#kind of the nature of the business. as Tom said you can’t go around talking about principles

[afairytalestray]

Day 18 of @storyweaverofgondor‘s Cats-pril - magic! I based this off of my pre-canon hc series #7. I wanted to look at what my fave Jemibub can do :) Also on Ao3 here.

..

“Demeter?”

Munkustrap about jumped out of his skin and fell off the tyre at the sudden quiet voice from beside him. Everlasting, how was Misto so silent? Demeter snorted as he tried to recompose himself. It was fine for her, she was used to him. There was an understanding between those two that he didn’t have – a level of trust built from surviving and escaping from Macavity together. Demeter had settled back into the Junkyard, but it was harder for Misto, who hadn’t had a real home before Macavity had gotten his claws into him. Misto was an exercise in patience; he was very nervous around other Cats after his experiences with Macavity, and it would take him time to trust the Jellicles.

“Sorry,” Misto whispered, looking worried as Munkustrap pulled himself back together.

“It’s ok, Misto, I just didn’t see you there is all!” he said, making sure his tone was light.

“It’s really fine,” Demeter smiled, rubbing her and Misto’s shoulders together, drawing a small smile from him. Munkustrap felt himself smile too, their friendship was a comfort and he was glad they had each other. “What’s up?”

Misto paused for a moment, his eyes flicking between Munk and Demeter, before deeming it safe enough to speak. Even that was a victory in itself – Munkustrap made it his business to get to know every member of his tribe, but at the moment, the only Cats Misto was really comfortable talking to were Demeter, Bombalurina, and Tugger.

“It’s Jemima.”

Munkustrap felt a brief spike of panic, but forced himself not to react in case he put Misto off. Demeter frowned slightly.

“Is she ok?” she asked, carefully controlling her voice to be slightly concerned but not accusing. She was masterful at this.

“Yes,” Misto nodded, and Munk felt his heartbeat calm. “It’s just…” he trailed off, his eyes flicking to Munkustrap again. Munk made himself smile and Misto took a deep breath. “She has magic.”

Whatever Munk had thought he was going to say, that wasn’t it. He felt a splurge of knee-jerk panic, and worked furiously to keep his face and body language neutral. He knew, intrinsically, that magic was not evil. It could be used for good, when in the paws of the right Cat. He had just never seen it. His and his tribe’s one and only experience with magic had been Macavity, which had been horrible. He knew that Misto also had magic though, although he only knew because Demeter had told him. Because of Macavity, Misto hadn’t wanted the other Jellicles to know. Demeter had told Munk of how Macavity had forcibly drained Misto of his magic and used it to hurt others, and Misto didn’t want the Jellicles to think he was similar to Macavity. It had been painful to hear, and Munk’s heart had gone out to the young Tom. No wonder he was nervous, Munk wouldn’t be in a rush to tell anyone that either.

“What kind of magic?” Demeter asked. If she was worried, she was hiding it entirely.

“Nonmaterial,” Misto answered. “She won’t be able to do physical magic like me, like conjuring lights or creating barriers or lightning-”

Everlasting, was that what he could do? Munkustrap could see how Macavity would be desperate to get his paws on him.

“-but her power is likely dynamic, and will grow naturally over time. She’s very emotionally intelligent, so I think she will develop empathic abilities.”

He fell silent and Munk took a moment to acknowledge that this was the most he had ever heard Misto speak.

“Is it dangerous for her? Will she need training?” Demeter asked, and Munk was glad that she seemed to understand all this much better than he did.

“No,” Misto shook his head. “Nonmaterial magic can’t be worked on, you have it or you don’t. It won’t affect her physically, she should maybe just make sure she doesn’t get her own emotions confused with another Cat’s, that could be overwhelming.”

“Does Jemi know?” Munk asked. The thought that she wouldn’t feel safe telling them hurt, but he could only imagine how scary that would be. Did she think they might turn on her? To his relief, Misto shook his head again.

“No, I only do because Magical Cats can sense other Magical Cats, even when they’re too young to be aware of it. She’ll work it out naturally when she’s ready to know, it’s scary to be told before that. But I thought… I thought you should know. He’s more interested in physical magic, but if Macavity senses her then he might try and take her,” he finished quickly.

Oh, that was why he was telling them. He was trying to protect her, to stop what happened to him from happening to her. Munkustrap felt his heart swell. Misto was clearly scared to tell them this, but still had for Jemi’s sake. How a Cat could go through what he had and still be good was a mystery to Munk. But before he could say anything, Demeter reached over and hugged Misto. She whispered something Munk couldn’t make out, and Misto nodded, hopped down from the tyre, and disappeared into the Junkyard in a flash.

“He’s still a bit scared of you,” Demeter explained, a half smile on her face.

“I can only hope it’s not because I’m Macavity’s brother,” Munkustrap said, but Demeter shook her head.

“It’s not,” she said, placing a reassuring paw on top of his own. “He’s just not used to the Cat in charge actually being nice.”

Munk winced in sympathy.

“I’m glad he told us,” he said. “I could tell it was difficult. But if it helps us protect her, then I’m grateful. I’ll be even more careful if I sense Macavity lurking about.” 

“I’m glad it won’t cause her any pain,” Demeter nodded. “I think the physical stuff can have some nasty side effects. I hope she won’t be afraid to tell us when she realises,” she said, echoing Munk’s previous concerns.

“Maybe we can have a brainstorm about reassuring the tribe that magic isn’t dangerous by itself? That might help Misto too.”

“We could talk to your dad? He has a connection to the Everlasting Cat, he’ll probably be able to talk about it better than us.”

“Yeah,” Munk said, “he’s better at stuff like that. I just want our Jemibub to be happy.”

“Me too,” Demeter sighed. “Hopefully she’ll never have to feel alone. She’ll have us, she’ll have another Magical Cat, all we can do is make sure she knows we love her no matter what.”

“I think we annoy her with how much we tell her we love her,” Munk chuckled, making Demeter smile.

“There are far worse problems to be had.”

[sigurdjarlson]

Thinking Greg, Ewan and Marianne (also Tom)

Also me rambling about a few takes I see here and there on Greg that I (respectfully) don’t really agree with.

Generally just me making things a lot deeper than they probably are, a lot of speculation and headcanons, blah blah.

Disclaimer: if you disagree that’s perfectly fine. None of this is an attack on anyone. Or even aimed at anyone in particular.It’s more just rambling and getting thoughts out.

Oh and the usual “I don’t condone what these characters do and they all suck” disclaimer because if you don’t put that people assume ur like lusting after Bezos bc you like fictional capitalists

Tw: abuse mentions (I’m regards to Ewan and Logan’s childhood and Tom and Greg. Also brief Tom/Shiv mention too)

First off I think Ewan is more similar to Logan than he thinks. I don’t actually like Ewan very much. I think he’s generally an unpleasant dude.

His morals come off performative. It seems more like he wants to find a way to be superior to Logan (being clearly bitter about Logan getting more than him) and has settled into believing he’s morally superior.

But he still backs Logan when the vote of no confidence happens. You know, the guy he claims is singlehandedly my destroying the world? It’s a selfish decision based on his own sense of familial loyalty rather than trying to make the world better.

He’s sitting on millions himself after all (and not just the inheritance he’s dangling over Greg’s head and later donated to Green Peace) so frankly he’s not exactly the voice of the people over there.

His relationship with Greg in particular is..sad. There’s no emotional warmth there from Ewan. None at all. Even when Greg tries to be affectionate he’s immediately rebuffed. He treats Greg with same disdain and annoyance as everyone else.

It’s possible he’s disappointed in how Greg turned out even before he dug his heels in and refused to leave the company. Greg didn’t exactly seem like he had a lot going from him lmao.

Maybe he’s just incapable of genuine selfless affection much like his brother. Whatever abuse they went through has clearly left them very..dysfunctional to say the least .

Ewan isn’t as outright cruel to Greg as Logan is to his kids. He doesn’t and hasn’t hit him to our knowledge. He just..has no emotional warmth and affection. Something Greg clearly wants.

He’s manipulative like Logan though. Greg does something he doesn’t like and he dangles his inheritance over his head as a threat. When Greg refuses to comply he donates it.

And then we have Marianne who we know almost nothing about.

It’s hard to say because we no absolutely nothing about Marianne’s mother but from what I can see she seems about as distant as Ewan is with Greg.

It could be that she’s simply annoyed with him and maybe she doesn’t act like that with him all the time but honestly i think she probably is emotionally distant like her father.

I mean I get that Greg probably asked for money a lot but her refusing to give him anything was kind of cruel. Dude had to sleep in a church and steal food from work. Like you sent him there and he actually is trying to get in so maybe idk support your son?

We know she racked up a ton of credit card debt that Greg pays off for her. Which is hmm interesting and again kind of shitty for her to do that? I mean I know he’s got money now but who’s mooching off who now LMAO

We know she’s got some of that Roy cunning and predisposition for manipulation. She’s the one who encourages Greg to use nepotism to get what he wants, she tells him to strategize and decide who’s more important [Shiv or Roman].

But she does tell her father to make sure Greg eats when he’s in town so she clearly cares about him somewhat.

I’ve seen people headcanon she’s got a drug problem given that she’s shown taking pills but those could be anything. (Health problems, mental health problems, some pain meds because dealing with Greg gives her a headache lmao)

Also she has a dog so that’s nice. I like to think Greg is a dog person.

We also know she was married at one point to Greg’s father who from what we know is basically an absentee slutty gay dad.

Nicholas mentions Greg comes from a “broken family” and says his father isn’t around and his mother feels far away. They also refer to Greg as being raised by his mother. So we can assume Mr Hirsch took off on them at some point

Nicholas really focused on that it isn’t just about the money for Greg. He wants a family. He wants to be a part of something.

It’s very telling Logan gets him to stay against his grandfather’s wishes with “I like you, Greg. I do.” I doubt that was genuine but pretend affection worked like a charm with Greg because his grandfather doesn’t give him that. (I don’t think Ewan DOES like Greg lmao)

So Greg’s dad took off and his grandfather is about as emotionally intelligent as a worm. Not exactly the best father figures eh?

Or Tom getting Greg to open the cruise files with “You’re family.” And Greg just says “thank you.”

And the Roys are fucking insane but “there are enough good moments with these people that he feels like he’s a part of something” - NB

And I find it interesting they say he wants family when his mother and grandfather are family but I think it’s fair to assume they’re both emotionally repressed so Greg looks elsewhere for the approval, guidance and affection he wants so badly.

(And ended up looking in the worst place possible)

We don’t know how many times Greg has seen his cousins and uncle before this. Caroline says they knew him as Greg the Egg and Shiv knows enough to correct Logan when he calls him Craig

(I assume Marianne and Greg were cut off when Ewan and Logan became estranged, if they weren’t already I mean. Although Marianne was able to contact Marcia to tell her Greg was coming so she must keep in contact to some degree)

If I’m not mistaken Connor says something to Greg in the background “your mother is funny” at the dinner table so they know who she is.

We also know they weren’t particularly wealthy. I’ve seen the (it was either a show runner or Nicholas Braun) where they say he’s never had a pair of nice leather shoes and never had a nice fitted suit in his entire life.

Greg is absolutely awed by their lifestyle. (Makes me think maybe if he did ever see his cousins it was when he was younger). He clearly didn’t have his cousins’ lavish lifestyle.

Which is odd because Ewan has money. He could share it with his daughter and grandson but he doesn’t. Why? Out of principle? Did she give him a reason? (Like racking up credit card debt lmao) Despite all his preaching he is seemingly fine with letting his daughter and grandson struggle.

But my conclusion is I think Greg came from a fairly emotionally detached family and that’s why there’s this part of him craving attention, affection and approval.

That’s a part of Greg I don’t see many people discuss and Nicholas Braun keeps emphasizing it. He’s lonely and he’s scared. He doesn’t have anyone except Tom and Tom is volatile and abusive to him sometimes.

(Don’t get me wrong, I love the ship, I love these dysfunctional maniacs but in the end that is what a lot of Tom’s aggressive behavior is. Abuse. I won’t deny that because that would be doing a disservice to both the characters and the ship. It’s so interesting because it’s messed up. Same with Hannibal and Will. Nothing wrong with shipping problematic things because well, they’re not real so no one is getting hurt)

Yes Tom’s behavior is a result of Shiv’s emotional abuse but that doesn’t really excuse it. It just explains it. I love both Tom and Shiv btw

But yeah Greg is thrust into a world he knows nothing about and he has to adapt. He’s trying to emulate the people around him and unfortunately they all suck lmao so he’s becoming a progressively worse person as he adapts to this lifestyle.

Tom praises him for blackmailing him, Gerri praises him for snitching on Tom, Kendall praises him for blackmailing him as well. Every time he lights up like a Christmas tree

Is Greg greedy? Hell yeah but I think his greed comes from a different place than the Roys greed comes from.

Greg has been a rock bottom before, he had nothing when he arrived. Why wouldn’t he want security? And then why wouldn’t he want luxury? (His cousins have it and they didn’t do anything to earn it other than being born into the right family)

He’s desperate to not to end up sleeping on church pews and scrounging food from offices again.

(I wonder if there ever was or is any lingering bitterness/resentment that they get all this and he got so very little. If there was I’m sure Ewan was the source)

Nicholas Braun says a lot of things boil down to being about survival for Greg and that tracks.

He jumps sides and blackmails and manipulated because he’s trying to survive in this cutthroat world and he needs to be on the winning side to keep himself afloat. (Is that not what they all try to do?)

It’s not out of malice or cruelty. It’s necessity. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone intentionally but he’s looking out for himself. Self preservation.

If Shiv, Connor, Roman or Kendall fail they usually still have obscene amounts of money to fall back on because for all his threats Logan won’t let them stay gone for long. He’s too controlling.

Greg does not have that. Especially after Ewan takes away his inheritance.

(No one else is looking out for him after all except Tom and that’s a volatile, rocky and confusing relationship for him. Also Tom did fuck him over by implicating by in the cruise scandal and was originally planning on using him as a scapegoat)

He’s watching them all stab each other in the back every other day and he’s also being praised for shitty behavior. Is it really a surprise he’s got progressively “worse”?

Also frankly no one is particularly nice to him? He’s constantly mocked, berated, humiliated and dismissed by everyone. They were so ready to sacrifice him and Tom “Tom sundae with Greg Sprinkles”

There are enough nice moments as NB said that Greg feels like he’s a part of this messed up family but..he’s really not. Like by blood yes but in their eyes? He’s not really a Roy. Neither is Tom. They’re not on the same level.

So..sometimes I ask myself why do people act like Greg owes any of them loyalty? Because they’re family? Bullshit, that doesn’t matter. I hate that shit. If family treats you like shit you don’t owe them anything. No matter what material things they give you.

Also hm maybe I’m an ass for this but I don’t care that Greg is a bit of a mooch when it’s the Roys he’s mooching off of. They are billionaires. They’ll survive Greg being a bit of a parasite (might as well get something out dealing with that family) it’s not like he’s going to hurt their feelings either.

I see a lot of “Greg acts entitled to stuff because of his family it’s disgusting. Nepotism at its finest” and this one makes me laugh because yeah I can see a few times where acts like that…but so is every single character on this fucking show? The Roy children more than any other characters.

The Roy kids didn’t earn their dad’s fortune. They are living off their father and if he didn’t own the business none of them would have a job there because none of them know what the fuck they’re doing or how to interact with other human beings (Roman especially LMAO)

Connor literally lives off his dad’s money and does pretty much nothing else until he decides he’s going to try to be president (Connor my beloved..you are so dumb)

I’m not saying he’s better than them either. Just that they’re both shitty and I don’t see how Greg doing the same things the Roys do makes him the most evil character on the show (no joke I have seen people say that and not in a joking way)

There’s a weird very aggressive double standard for people who just HATE greg for some reason (which is fine) and I think that’s a failing in the writing because Greg doesn’t have nearly as much material for the audience to sympathize with and get to know him like we do the Roy kids.

So when he does dick things it’s like “wow what a dick” rather than “oh he did that because ____ and he’s still a dick but I get it now”

I mean I’m looking for those things because I’m deranged but the average viewer I mean.

(Tom gets a lot of these same takes about not being worthy, being too entitled, needing to be knocked down a peg, etc or whatever but he gets a lot more sympathy than Greg and again that’s a flaw in the writing for Greg. Or maybe it’s on purpose who knows.)

Anyway we were talking about Greg not owing loyalty to the Roys.

Kendall gives him an apartment but it’s not a completely selfless gesture lbr. He needed a place for his parties. He needed Greg to get him coke and wanted to keep him on his side.I love Ken but he doesn’t seem to care much about Greg as a person.

He doesn’t owe Tom anything either because frankly Tom owed him for getting him into the cruise situation in the first place. Also considering the abuse Tom has consistently flung at him… (both physical, emotional and mental) it makes sense he feels a mix of resentment and a desire to get the fuck out of there

Sometimes I get the feeling people think Greg like owes Tom love back? (You can’t owe someone love just because they were nice to you a few times for that matter but that’s a whole other conversation) like because Tom loves him so much he’s a terrible person for not feeling the same way? (If you’re assuming unrequited in Greg’s part)

If I was Greg I’d fucking hate Tom. I would have called HR a loooooong time ago. (It wouldn’t do anything with that shit show of a company but I digress)

The fact Greg willingly sticks around after his attempts to leave are foiled is insane.

The fact he even seems to genuinely like Tom is a strange miracle. Yes, Tom has done truly good things for him but he also abuses him. That does not disappear or become magically forgotten just because he’s doing something good for him now.

I think Greg cares for Tom but I also think there’s a lot of resentment there over how he’s been treated. He doesn’t like how imbalanced their relationship is. He wants them on equal footing.

Tom is so many things to Greg no wonder he’s completely baffled by him. (I see people say three don’t understand how Greg can’t see it but uh the hostile behavior would throw me for a loop too. Just because it’s obvious to the audience doesn’t mean the characters themselves are being written with the same knowledge we have)

He’s all these conflicting wonderful, horrible things.

He’s safety, he’s danger, he’s affection, he’s scorn, he’s a helping hand, he’s the hand holding him down, he saves him, he purposefully implicated him in his crimes, he says trust me, he says never trust anyone, he’s a kiss on the forehead and bruises from water bottles flung at him in a rage.

He’s all of these things at once and I think that’s really fucking confusing for Greg.

I think Tom does realize he needs to put them on more equal ground for their relationship to improve in Greg’s end. (Greg’s less than pleased reaction to being offered the position of “Tom’s attack dog’ is very telling. He doesn’t want to be under Tom’s thumb anymore. He resents that power imbalance)

Will Greg betray Tom? I don’t know. Only time will tell if all those lessons on being ruthless have truly sunk in.

Tom kicked that dog [Greg] a hell of a lot and petting him now won’t make him forget. He shouldn’t be surprised if/when Greg turns around and bites him too.

Do I think losing Tom would devastate Greg? Yes, regardless of how you interpret their relationship. Tom is really the only person he has. He’d be completely alone. So, betraying Tom would ultimately ruin him too because the rich life won’t be so much fun with no one to share it with. It’ll be empty and pointless.

Logan is gonna play the same mind games with these two as he does his kids. (New kids who dis) and ultimately whether they end up screwing each other over or not (hopefully just screwing part heh) there’s no way this will end well

Another point I wanted to touch on is Greg’s complete disinterest in sex up until it’s suggested he can use Comfrey or the Contessa to climb the social ladder. (He expresses clear discomfort at the idea at the bachelor’s party being a sex party and doesn’t even respond to Tom’s “we should talk to some girls”)

And he loses interest the moment a girl seems to return his affection.

This could be interpreted as closeted Greg or at least Greg who’s willing to play straight to get better social status.

(But also bi Greg is a possibility but he just isn’t interested in them beyond social climbing apparently)

I for one like the idea of gay closeted Greg? Because I think seeing him struggle with the idea of becoming his father (gay homewrecker) would be really very interesting.

There’s a lot of potential here. Internalized homophobia even? Where he unconsciously sees being gay as something bad, as something that destroyed his family? Or just being terrified that his mother will look at him and think he’s just like his father.

Just daddy issues galore because not only did he lose his father but he has no stable father figure in his life. (I think he sees Tom as one in a twisted way, but also a potential lover. Daddy issuessss)

Like he needs someone to guide him and love him.

He can chase riches all he wants and that may keep him living in the lap of luxury but it doesn’t mean he’ll be happy.

In fact Nicholas B says that Greg just needs someone to ask him if he’s okay? Because he’s not. “Everything feels bad in this world all the time for him”

Greg is greedy. He’s..starving for a lot of things. For love, family, security, money, power, all of it. He wants all of it and he wants it all at the same time. (Who doesn’t want these things to some degree)

And I think it’s because he’s never really had any of those things in the first place.

I also think at this point he’s very lonely when it comes down to it. Tom is all he has and that’s probably half of why he tolerates Tom’s behavior at first (also he didn’t really have a choice) before he genuinely starts to care about him too

And he does show genuine concern for Tom at times. I think it’s just a very complicated relationship, maybe even more so on Greg’s side because of how volatile and wishy washy Tom has been to him.

“I wonder if she’d still be there if she knew the real me?” (Who is the real you, Greg? Because honestly we don’t know at this point and I really hope we get to know him 😉)

I just really wanna know more about Greg and his family okay. Let me get to know Greg the Egg

[hjea]

Going through the tag, it looks like a number of people are really struggling to understand Bram Stoker’s terrible cockney-accent writing style, which is a shame because Tom Bilder the Zookeeper is a real treat. So I’ve gone through and written out his dialogue in plain English as best I can. This isn’t annotated, just my attempt to make the writing a little more accessible for everyone.

Only Tom Bilder and his wife’s words are written out here, please insert the Pall Mall Gazette interviewer’s words as needed.

“Now sir, you can go on and ask me what you want. You’ll excuse me refusing to talk of personal subjects before meals. I give the wolves and jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea before I begin to ask them questions.”

“Hitting them over the head with a pole is one way; scratching their ears is another, when gentlemen with money want a bit of a show-off to their girls, I don’t so much mind the first—the hitting with a pole before I throw in their dinner; but I wait until they’ve had their sherry and coffee, so to speak, before I try the ear-scratching. Mind you, there a deal of the same nature in us as in those animals. Here’s you coming and asking me questions about my business, and I was so grumpy that it was only because you gave me a half-a-bloomin’-pound I didn’t immediately blow you off before I’d answer. Not even when you sarcastically asked me if you’d ask the zoo’s Superintendent if you could ask me your questions. Didn’t I cheerfully tell you to go to hell?

“And when you said you’d report me for using obscene language, that was the same as hitting me over the head; but the half-a-pound made that all right. I wasn’t going to fight you, so I waited for the food and howled like the wolves, and lions, and tigers do. But, Lord love your heart, now that my wife has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, and rinsed me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit my pipe, you may scratch my ears for all you’re worth, and you won’t get even a growl out of me. Go on with your questions, I know what you’re getting at, that escaped wolf.”

“All right, governor. This here is about the whole story. That wolf we call Berserker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Charles Jamrach, which we bought off of him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave any trouble to speak of. I’m more surprised at him for wanting to get out than any other animal in the place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves any more than women.”

“Don’t you mind him, sir! He’s been minding the animals so long that, bless me, if he isn’t like an old wolf himself. But there’s no harm in him.”

“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feeding yesterday when I first heard the disturbance. I was making up a litter in the monkey-house for a young puma that is ill; but when I heard the yelping and howling I came straight away. There was Berserker tearing around like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There weren’t many people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a hook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs running through it. He had a hard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a dislike to him, for it seemed as if it was him that was irritating the animals. He had white leather gloves on his hands, and he pointed out the animals to me and said: ‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’

‘Maybe it’s you,’ I said, because I didn’t like the airs he gave himself. He didn’t get angry, as I hoped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they wouldn’t like me,’ he said.

‘Oh yes they would,’ I said, imitating his tone. ‘They always like a bone or two to clean their teeth with around tea-time, which you could provide.’

Well, it was an odd thing, but when the animals saw us talking they lay down, and when I went over to Berserker he let me stroke his ears the same as ever. Then the man came over, and bless me if he didn’t put his hand in the cage and stroke the old wolf’s ears too!

‘Take care,’ I said. ‘Berserker is quick.’

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I’m used to them!’

‘Are you in the business yourself?’ I said, taking off my hat, because a man who trades in wolves, etc., is a good friend to keepers.

‘No,’ he said, ‘not exactly in the business, but I’ve made pets of several.’ And with that he lifted his hat as polite as a lord, and walked away. Old Berserker kept looking after him until he was out of sight, and then he went and lay down in a corner and wouldn’t come out the whole evening. Well last night, as soon as the moon was up, the wolves here all began howling. There was nothing for them to howl at. There wasn’t anyone near, except someone apparently calling a dog somewhere out in the back of the gardens in the Park Road. Once or twice I went out to see if everything was all right, and it was, and then the howling stopped. Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look around before turning in for the night, and, bust me, but when I came opposite to old Berserker’s cage I saw the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that’s all I know for certain.”

“One of the gardeners was coming home at about that time from an harmony, when he saw a big grey dog coming out through the garden hedges. At least, that’s what he said, but I don’t put much stock in it myself, since he never said a word about it to his wife when he got home, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night hunting the park for Berserker, that he remembered seeing anything. My own belief was that the harmony had got into his head.”

“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, “I think I can; but I don’t know that you’d be satisfied with the theory.”

“Well then, sir, I account for it this way; it seems to me that the wolf escaped—simply because he wanted to get out.”

“Right you are, sir,” he said briskly. “You’ll excuse me, I know, for teasing you, but the wife here winked at me, like she was telling me to go for it.”

“My opinion is this: the wolf is hiding out somewhere. The gardener who didn’t remember said he was galloping northward faster than a horse could go; but I don’t believe him, for, you see, wolves don’t gallop anymore than dogs do, not being built for it. Wolves are fine things in a storybook, and I daresay when they’re in packs and attacking something that’s more afraid than they are they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lord bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half as clever or as bold as a good dog; and not with nearly as much fight in it. This one hasn’t been used to fighting or even providing for himself, and more than likely he’s somewhere around the Park, hiding and shivering, and if he thinks at all, wondering where he’s going to get his breakfast from; or maybe he’s run down some area and is in a coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a fright when she sees his green eyes shining at her out of the dark! If he can’t get food he’s bound to look for it, and maybe he’ll find a butcher’s shop in time. If he doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes walking off with a soldier, and leaving the infant in the perambulator—well, then I shouldn’t be surprised if the census has one less baby. That’s all.”

“God bless me!” he said. “If there isn’t old Berserker coming back by himself!”

“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all cut and full of broken glass. He’s been getting over some bloomin’ wall or something. It’s a shame that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This here is what comes of it. Come along, Berserker.”

[zeldas-cigarrette]

⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

[petersasteria]

happier || haz osterfield

sour masterlist || osterfield || sour taglist

1,426 words i got carried away lmao and i made myself cry while writing

* * * *

Despite your painful breakup with Harrison a month ago, you still had the same circle of friends. It was awkward, but you loved all of them. They were on your side too even though you didn’t say anything to them. Tuwaine FaceTimed you almost every night just to check on you. Tom sent you a ‘care package’ and it had your favorite food and a few skin care items in it. Harry sent you pictures of everything he saw that made you smile. Sam personally brought you food the next day. He was there when you cried. After all, five years was no joke.

It’s Tom’s birthday and naturally, you were invited. Well, it wasn’t exactly his birthday. He just wanted to celebrate days before, so that he can celebrate his actual birthday with his family. Tom, Sam, and Harry were lucky to celebrate twice. You arrived at the restaurant with a big paper bag in your hand.

You looked around and saw Harry waving you over which made you smile as you made your way there. When you got closer, your smile dropped when you saw a girl next to Harrison a.k.a your ex that you still love because, again, five years is no joke. They were busy in their own little world, not noticing you sitting right across from them.

Noticing this, Harry said, “Sit beside me, Y/N! We have so much to talk about.” You glanced at him and gave him a small smile, but you were hurting already. You sit beside Harry and set your gift down under your chair before talking about random things.

Harrison finally noticed you and he acted as if he didn’t break your heart a month ago. It angered you and you had every right to feel that way. “Hey, Y/N/N! I didn’t see you there. This is my girlfriend, Gracie. Gracie, this is Y/N.”

You wanted the ground to eat you whole, but you plastered a fake smile on your face as you looked at her. She was beautiful and she seemed sweet. She was even shy when she greeted you and you had a feeling that she was genuinely kind. You glanced at Harrison for a second and saw that he was happy. He really was. He was laughing more and his smile was brighter. She really brought out the best in him.

You shook her hand and smiled. For real, this time. It was painful because it’s not everyday you get to shake the hand of your replacement, but for some reason you felt light. Probably because Gracie wasn’t a monster like the others and for that, you were thankful.

You never had closure with Harrison and maybe that’s why after eating dinner at the restaurant, he pulled you aside and asked you if it was okay for you both to talk. You just nodded before catching up with Sam and Harry.

Tom decided it was nice to walk from the restaurant to the nearest club. He was walking hand in hand with Nadia and it was such a cute sight to see. Meanwhile, Harrison and Gracie were doing the same thing, but you shook it off. You wanted to move on, but it was hard knowing that Harrison was right there.

You planned on getting blackout drunk because you wanted to forget. You knew it was stupid because you’d remember everything the next day, but drinking helped a little and you’ve been drinking often recently. You were killing yourself painfully slow by drinking excessively, but Harrison’s new relationship killed you and now, metaphorically, you were dead.

When you arrived at the club, you quickly went up to the bar and ordered yourself a few drinks before joining the rest of the group. They didn’t even notice you. After downing five different drinks, you made your way through the club and spotted the group. You sat beside Sam and you smiled at him.

“Where’d you go?” Sam asked in your ear.

“I got lost.” You lied, but Sam took it even though he knew that was a lie. Tom bought the first round of drinks and you quickly drank yours making everyone shocked. You just shrugged it off. The rest of the night was spent laughing, drinking, and dancing.

The twins were concerned about you, though. Tom and Tuwaine were concerned too. After all, they were your friends. Tuwaine noticed you were slurring your words and your movements were sluggish and that was enough for him to know that enough was enough. He gave you water and let you sober up.

“Is she okay?” Harrison asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Sam snapped. He wasn’t mad at Harrison, but he hated seeing you like that. Harrison was his friend, but he’s just another guy and you’ll find someone else too. You won’t find someone new as soon as Harrison, but Sam believed that the guy for you was out there.

“I’ll take her outside for some air.” Sam said as he led you outside through the swarm of dancing, happy people.

The air was refreshing and it wasn’t crowded. Sam stared at you as you took in the air before you finally broke down in front of him. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked softly.

“He moved on so fast, that’s all. It’s like what we had was just a joke to him, Sam.” You cried, making Sam tear up. He brought you in for a hug and you hugged back.

“Did he forget about me that quick?” You asked and it broke Sam’s heart.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I wish I knew.” He frowned before pulling away. He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “You’ll be fine, I promise you that.”

“I-Is it selfish of me to wish that he isn’t happier with her? And- And as much as I want to hate her so bad, I can’t because she seems really nice and I can’t bring myself to hate her. I have so many questions. Did he tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? Did he mean it when he said that shit to me? Or was he just playing with me? Did he really love me?” You questioned as tears streamed down your face. You were a mess, but Sam allowed you to just go on. God knows how long you’ve been keeping all that to yourself.

“I can’t let him go, Sam. Not yet. I don’t have the heart to because deep down I wish that he would come back.”

Sam smiled sadly and said, “We both know he’s not the type to go back to his ex.”

“I know. I guess that’s why I can’t let go because I thought I was the one for him. I thought we were it for each other, but I failed to notice that I wasn’t the one for him. I think I’m bitter because she could be the one for him and now that I see them together, my past with him keeps flashing back. I want him back and I think I’ll keep wanting him.” You rambled as you wiped your tears away. Sam gave you his handkerchief and you gladly took it to wipe your face.

Harrison walked out of the club and he saw both of you. He rushed over to both of you and asked Sam if he could leave. Sam hesitated, but you smiled at him and he nodded at you before leaving.

“Are you okay?” Harrison asked. You nodded, “Never been better.”

“Alright, that’s good to hear.” He chuckled. “I hope it wasn’t awkward with Gracie. What do you think of her?”

The question broke your heart even more and you didn’t think it was possible.

“She seems really kind and she’s beautiful.” You gave him a small smile.

He grinned, “Thank you.”

“I hope you’re happy with her. I mean it.” You said softly, thanking God that your voice didn’t crack because you feel a sob coming up.

“She’s the one, Y/N. I can feel it. I’m really happy with her.” Harrison said truthfully. “Anyway, I’ll go back inside. I just wanted to ask you if it’s awkward.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just shook your head. He gave you a quick hug before going back inside. You stood out there before walking home. You didn’t care about anything at the moment. You just wanted to go home because tonight, your soul left your body as you slowly died of heartbreak.

* * * *

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @celestialholland @alinastarkrovs @piscesparker @prancerrparkerr @spideyspeaches @givebuckyhisplumsnow @blueleatherbag

[babybluebex]

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation.  ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once. 

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee. 

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--” 

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked. 

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.” 

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver. 

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?” 

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him. 

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.” 

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.” 

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” 

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck. 

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him. 

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.” 

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet. 

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine. 

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?” 

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.” 

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?” 

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me. 

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?” 

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.” 

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called. 

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.” 

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Tom repeated. 

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace. 

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said. 

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.” 

“Y/N--” Tom began. 

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.” 

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?” 

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.” 

“Well, thank God you’re on time.” 

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space. 

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.” 

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?” 

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head. 

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.” 

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused. 

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.” 

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.” 

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.” 

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed. 

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.” 

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces. 

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked. 

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?”

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?” 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out. 

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly. 

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.” 

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked. 

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.” 

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.” 

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly. 

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked. 

“Who was yours?” I said quickly. 

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?” 

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed. 

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.” 

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly. 

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

[ohheyitsokay]

home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

>>

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

-           

 It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

-           

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

-           

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

-           

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

 <<

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter 

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

[zodiyack]

Smile

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Cuteness?, fluff, swearing, no proofreading

Words: 2,191

Summary: A cold winter’s night gives Tommy inspiration to go for the woman he desires. After all, what gentleman would let a lady walk home in the teeth chattering cold?

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @stydia-4-ever​, @simonsbluee​, @marquelapage​, @stuckysslag​, @darling-i-read-it​, @psychkunox​, @peakyxtommy​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @fandom-puff​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The woman who worked with his family, sitting at the front of the betting shop despite being someone who should never have to see what horrors the Shelbys have. She was the one Tommy dreamt of the few times he’d actually been able to sleep. His heart thundered as he passed her, waving a hand with a kind and welcoming smile, a genuine one at that. His family could tease him all they’d like, but Y/n L/n had stolen Thomas’ heart and he was perfectly fine with that.

However, he wasn’t the best at telling her so. He could talk to her just fine but telling her he fancied her... Y/n was far too innocent. Sure, she wasn’t literally innocent but he couldn’t bear to bring her into the shit-show disguised as “family-business”. The smile she returned to him every time he passed her only reminded him of that.

“Mr. Shelby? You-” His head perked up, expression of deep thought washing away at the sound of her soft voice. Oh, her beautiful voice. It serenaded him without either of the two even realizing it.

“Again, please Y/n, call me Tommy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he let out a small chuckle, “I promise. Now, what about me?”

“Um... Oh! Yes! You have a visitor. I assume it’s about some Peaky Business so I told them I’d get you.”

Tommy nodded. “Thank you, Y/n.” His eyes had been fixated on her long enough to notice more about her appearance than he had a  The pink on the tip of her nose, the slightest hue of blue on her lips. “Y/n...come here please.”

“Alright...” She did as she was told. A small nervous feeling bounced around in her gut, alarm bells ringing. Tommy was hard to read, but the request scared her more. Ada was the one who got her the job, Tommy was the one who let her keep the job. Was he having second thoughts?

Before another worrying thought could make its way to her head, Tommy swung his coat over Y/n’s shoulders. A little sigh of relief, yet also a gasp of surprise, escaped Y/n’s lips as the coat began to envelope her in its warmth. Caught in the moment, her eyes flicked to Tommy’s, his to hers. They just stared. And yet, neither of them minded.

His face... It was like a Greek god, or an angel maybe? So imperfectly perfect.

That’s what he was.

She thought about his smile, not currently visible, but always on her mind. It looked so handsome, so charming, and, dare she say, pretty. His smile brought hers to her face. Even if it was hiding in the pits of the darkest, deepest, smallest hiding place on a bad day, his own called hers to the surface almost instantly.

The beautiful blue of Tommy’s orbs, like sapphires sparkling in the light that bounced off them or a mad ocean; the rage secretly a symphony as each wave crashed and washed away, a symphony only those who stopped to listen, actually listen, could hear. She had so many words and ways to describe the almost child-like look in his eyes, full of a hidden innocence ironically enough, but a knock at the door tore them away from her before they even reached her mouth.

 “Mr. Shelby? If you and your...uh...friend are done here, I have some business to talk with you.” The man was impatient. Luckily, his scare drew an instant reaction from Y/n. She had hurriedly turned around to face the guest with a flushed expression across her face the moment the door swung open. With her attention elsewhere, she missed the wince the man elicited from Tommy when he called Y/n his “friend”.

“Yes. We’re done. Y/n, you may go back to your work now.” He excused her with the same lift of his lips he’d always given her, only this time, the corners of his mouth were a little higher, a little closer to his eyes. This was progress.

A thin sheet of snow, white as angel’s wings, cloaked Small Heath. The waters were slick with ice. The cold wrapped its arms round Birmingham, Mother Nature hoping to warm her children and herself regardless of her cold skin. It nipped at the tips of noses like she was booping her finger against them in attempt to draw a smile from her shivering children.

Tommy cursed to himself. It felt so much colder than it did at the start of the day- one person on his mind upon the realization. Y/n had left a little prior to Thomas, just like she did every other day. Her reddened nose, her trembling lips as her teeth subtly and silently chattered, her fragile form even more so with her arms wrapped around her and Tommy’s coat in attempt to gain warmth. The images never seemed to leave his brain, especially not when she returned his coat.

He began to walk home, still focused on Y/n. Pondering up a variety of situations, good and bad, he tried to reassure himself. Constant anxiety was not new for Tommy. He worried for his family, for his friends- for Y/n... Too much was on his mind but he couldn’t seem to shake any of it off.

Although he was looking straight ahead- looking where he was going, he wasn’t entirely paying attention. A grunt slipped from his throat as he walked into someone, knocking them over and causing him to stumble. Normally, he’d just tell them to watch it, but as he regained focus on what’s in front of him rather than what’s been bothering him, he paused.

She too was surprised, having literally been knocked off her feet by none other than Thomas fucking Shelby. Her head jerked upwards to see who had walked into her, a similar intensity as Tommy’s. But she softened as well, untensing when his face, those baby blue gems, came into her view. He looked so puzzled, so...guilty.

“Fuck!” He was quick to drop the ground and help her up, checking her for any form of injury. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you alright? You look frightened-”

“I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings, I must’ve walked right into you. You know I didn’t mean for that to happen, love? It was purely on accident. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Anything at all?”

“Tommy. It’s alright.” The way she said his name was comforting. Her voice was soothing as usual. Her hand came to his upper arm, a relaxed and friendly grip. She gave him a squeeze, letting him know she meant it, that she was serious. “But, before I answer your second question, please, answer mine.”

Thomas was ready to ignore her, lips already parting to ask her again, but the sincerity of her concerned demeanor crumbled the facade he’d put up. He released a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m just- ...worried.” It took a lot for him to admit some things, but the feeling of relief that surged through him after he told her...it felt like she took the burden from his shoulders.

“About what?”

He looked around for a minute and then suddenly stopped. Now that he thought about it, they weren’t that far from his place. He looked back to her. Her form was just as cold as it was this morning, the color of her lips had darkened, likely from longer time in colder weather.

“How about this. You come with me, to my place, we warm you up, get you a cup of tea, and then I’ll tell you.”

“W-what? No, Tom, you don’t have to-” There it was again. His name. She was like a siren, luring Thomas Michael Shelby, the helpless sailor, his name entwined with her voice- her melody. Her form did not change, as it was her he desired most.

“No, I do. I’m the reason you were on the ground, I’m the reason you’re covered in snow, but I’ll be damned if I become the reason you freeze to death out here.”

“I won’t-”

“You live quite some distance away,” his final attempt, a pleading sigh to mark it as so, and he was determined to make it a strong one, “...at least let me drive you home.”

She looked to be in serious contemplation of his offer, biting her lip and rocking back in forth to collect some warmth from movement before she returned her eyes to his. “...Fine.”

“I’d still like to get you warmed up though, so you can’t turn me down about that, yeah?”

The air escaping her parted lips could just barely be seen. Huddled by the fire, wrapped in Tommy’s sheets with a mug in her hands resting close to her face, the sinister chill was retreating from her body. Tommy felt his heart speed as he watched her. It felt...right. It felt right to have her be safe and warm, just as it felt right to have her there, with him.

Though a number of feelings were checked as “right”, there was a rather large one that didn’t. There was a feeling that wasn’t right, that hadn’t been satiated. His feelings for her poked at him, urging him to kiss her, hug her, ask her, to do something! Anything!

“You going to tell me what was on your mind, or was that just a trick to get me to accept your ride home, Mr. Shelby?” The grin that was present on her lips could be practically be heard as she asked the question.

“Not a trick, I promise.” His chuckle brought a chortle to Y/n’s mouth. He walked to the fire, sitting beside her. “I’ll tell you. But first...you have to promise me something.”

“Yes, anything.”

“Promise me that you won’t go spreading my business where it doesn’t need to be.” He took a deep inhale, exhaling it as he prepared to speak his next request involving her reaction. “And promise me this won’t affect our relationship.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “...I-...  I promise, but, ...I don’t understand how it could make a change between us?”

“It just...” He lifted his hands, scanning his brain for the right words. His hands dropped, making a small sound as they hit his thighs, the sound hidden only slightly by his sigh. “It just can.”

“How so? I mean, surely it’s-”

“I was worried about you.”

“O-oh? Thank you, that’s very-”  She didn’t understand. But how could he blame her with her lack of context?

“No. I was worried about you because I seem...” a pause to get it out. “I seem to have fallen in love with you.” He looked into the fire with an intensity. He looked at it as if looking at her would make him crumble on the spot. The moments passing by without any response from her made the fire so much more entertaining. Tommy Shelby couldn’t be scared by much, he’d already been through war, but this? It scared him.

A part of him wanted to look at her, see the reaction just in case it was just a lack of verbal response...but another part didn’t want to face the disappointment. Y/n was a nice woman and Tommy could never bring himself to hate her. Losing her would be hard, but seeing her at work would be harder. Tearing her from the job she cherished would be harder. He couldn’t do that to her.

Luckily, “Your eyes are so pretty...” he didn’t have to. “Your eyes, your smile-  everything about you has the stars jealous of its beauty. Personally, I wondered if our lips would meet. Today, in your office. It took everything in me not to surge forward, taste your lips on mine.” She snickered lightly, “Excuse my bluntness.”

“I like your bluntness. I only wish I’d been gifted with it.” He joined in, turning to face her, finally. He took a moment to admire the way her features looked in the orangey light from the fire. His eyes, observing her face with great interest, traveled to her lips before flicking back up to hers.

“Is that so?... Well, Tommy, now’s a good time to be blunt.”

“Pardon?”

She’d seen it. Fixated, just like him, on his eyes, specifically. “If you want to kiss me, just say so.” She’d caught him, easily with how entranced they both were.

He thought to himself. What’s blunter than saying he wanted to kiss her?

It happened in one swift motion. One second she was giving him a smug quirk of her brow, the next, her lips her locked with his. They pulled away, slowly and hesitatingly. “That was...as blunt as I could be.”

A laugh erupted from her. The sound sweeter than the songbirds. Then, Tommy smiled. Even if he wouldn’t be her target, in a boat on a restless sea, he knew, without a single doubt, that he’d go to her willingly. In fact, he did. And upon reaching the siren, perched on a sturdy ledge-like-rock, he realized she meant no harm. Tommy smiled. The smile reached his eyes.

[peeterparkr]

invisible string;tom holland.

summary:  life has a way of pulling you and Tom close to each other, then it pulls you apart. 

 “It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love.” 

soulmate au

word count: 6.4k

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: breakup mention, fluff, angst. fluffy angst. 

LOOK I TRIED TO WRITE FLUFF BUT I’M NOT GOOD AT IT SO ANGST CAME BUT I TRIED BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

heavily inspired by folklore and evermore by taylor

thanks @jambrosemc for helping me you’re amazing

So, this is for one of my best friends here, @badhollandfluff, Delaney I’m sorry this took so long but I wanted it to be perfect for you, surprise!!! I’m your secret Santa! Love you, hope you had an amazing Christmas and I wish you a happy new year, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Thanks to everyone who joined, happy holidays!! 

No one ever has time. We’re always running and rushing and trying to save a little, it’s always like we have it counted and we never truly realize time is passing by. The clock keeps ticking. You were a victim of that, sometimes, always running, never knowing why. Time always going faster than you wanted it to be. 

Until it stopped, it had stopped since last year. 

There you were now. A white mug. These days you don’t really see that. Everyone has the paper cups with the coffee collar. Their names scribbled on black that probably still smells like sharpie. But you were holding a white mug, that now was just slightly stained by your pink lipstick. 

The mug was stained inside too, with the leftover foam of your capuchino. You were letting it set cold, watching as the people would walk in. Waiting. 

You trailed your gaze around the room, there are some couples around you.

You liked the idea of this café, with people gathering around just for the simple fact of drinking a hot coffee out of a mug. You like to come here, to sit out your thoughts, sometimes you’ll find some time to work, read. But you’d be alone. You’ve been lonely lately. 

It didn’t matter, it’s fair to point that out. But today, you were going to meet him. Again. 

But you didn’t know that yet. 

You had once read about soul connections, interested if you’d ever find your own, seemed like most people around had met them. You hadn't. Not the one you were longing to find, that is. 

Bizarre. 

Honestly, you didn’t believe in them. Or you liked to say that to yourself, sad enough to admit you hadn’t found any type of strong connection. 

Or maybe you had. 

But it made absolutely remotely no sense, at all. 

How could you? There was absolutely no scientific proof that there were soulmates, and though everyone said you could feel them, that you’d sense it, and though the extinguished sadness on your friends could be proof enough, you were still sceptic. Maybe just doubting if you’d find yours. Or maybe you didn’t want to accept who was yours. 

Because Tom had left. 

Your friends had assured you that when they’d found it the world had turned idyllic, a pink life. 

Yeah, it had felt like that when you’d found Tom, but now everything was gray. 

However, you knew more about them than anyone else. You had researched about them, you had read about them and you were so informed that you sometimes didn’t even believe it. 

Though you liked to ignore that sometimes there was a song stuck in your head without reason or there was a sudden joy, that had no possible explanation. 

“It’s your soulmate,” someone would point out. 

It wasn’t, it’s just Tom’s favorite song. 

There was also a sense of pain, sometimes you didn’t understand why you felt such a heartbreak, how bad had they hurt them? If they did exist, that is. 

They didn’t, though. 

You’d read about that heart connection, that feelings connect trying to understand how it comes and goes.  

There are three types of connections. Karmic partnership, soulmates and twin flames. Different types of connections. 

First ones, karmic partnership, and it is as bad as it sounds. They’re often confused as soulmates and people like to cling to them. They’re… awful,  being the one heartache that is there to teach a lesson, the one person that is there to show you something about yourself, the one person who is strictly there for character development, let’s say. The one person you fall in love with and keep falling in love, but it’s not love,  no matter how many times they hurt each other they go back. It’s not love, though. Or maybe it is, but there reason they exist is strictly to make you reason. It becomes….Cyclic. Until you finally decide to break the cycle. Intense transformation, the one person that makes you see yourself from a different perspective and change. There is, however, no compatibility. 

Probably what you had with Tom. But… no, it wasn’t… There was too much compatibility. 

You’ve had your fair share of them, maybe you’ve had 

Then there are the soulmates. The perfect compatibility. 

The one connection that is beautiful, a person that you just… feel it. The one person you feel like you’ve waited for them your whole life. Strong compatibility, there are more than one soulmate, that is to say, it could be friends, it could be family. It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner. There are soulmates that you wonder how they can be such an incredible connection. 

Everyone has soulmates. You knew you’d met some of them, the friends one that is. None of them a connection strong enough to be your partner. Not that you didn’t want to, though. 

Or maybe you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You’ve read somewhere in the internet that there are connections that go beyond your wildest imagination. Go beyond soulmates. The… twin flames, the one your soul is so attached to, you can feel their pain, their joy. 

Journeys end when lovers meet. 

It’s fair to say, you’ve never believed in that information. Less after a heartbreak. 

You had a million thoughts over your head, oozing you with stress and feeding your not long enough sleep schedule. You were slightly angry, you’d say. You didn’t like him anymore. 

There are two kinds of people when it comes to liking someone. The ones who go forward it, fighting for it, hinting on it. Flirting as if there was no tomorrow. People like Tom. 

And then there’s people who run away from feelings and try to pretend to act natural around their crushes. People who definitely don’t want to overstep boundaries and are afraid of ruining friendships. People like you. 

But there was nothing to ruin now, was there? 

Because there’s also people who give up. People like him. And people who never dare to forget. People like you. 

It was never even. 

But you keep daydreaming about him and can’t help that tinge of red spreading across your cheekbones every time he was near you. You shouldn’t have given in. You should’ve fought, but you were reckless. A sunrise dropping by again, and you wondered what had gone wrong.

Tom wanted to talk, you didn’t. You loved him, he didn’t love you. 

Tom was gone. For good.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

It’s the kind of love that you’d probably want to avoid. You at least, avoided all kinds. After him, who’d want to love anyone else? He was the only one who could tell if you dared to smile with your eyes only. 

How stupid were you to believe he was your soulmate. 

But no, this wasn’t right. Because feelings make everything blurry and it’s something not exact. If it wasn’t for science and numbers you didn’t like to believe anything.  If you don’t know how it’ll turn out then you’ll probably avoid it. And when it comes to relationships, you never truly know. Or sometimes you do, but it’s usually... not pretty. You’d learned that with him. 

Relationships end, and while you don’t want them to. You’ve sensed it, from the beginning. And you just hope that they’ll remember you in a nice way. Did he? Or had he just passed the page. 

You still felt stuck in a chapter. He had stopped reading. So hard to be on different books now. 

But with him, He was an exception. He was pushy and wasn’t giving up at the beginning until he did. You had seen him fall out of love, and that’s the worst kind of thing you get to face, when you see them slowly trailing far from you. 

Plans? Dreams? The willow tree in that park when you had first kissed was still crying over your breakup. Your head had been low since you’d last kissed him. Had you known it was your last, you’d probably would’ve made it last longer, you would’ve held him for more time. You wouldn’t have let him leave. 

But you had had your moment with him. It had been the last time you saw him. The one moment when you realized that his  fake smile was just that, how convenient and cliche. But you didn’t want to give you in, just yet. No, you wouldn’t. He’d changed, and you didn’t like who he was now. Too changed, too built up, too busy, too whatever you could come up with. 

You got tired of begging, and then he was easy to forget, you hadn’t forgotten. Just two years ago you thought he’d made a decision, you had made it. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t stop him, he was growing and growing and simply he escaped from your touch. 

Then it had been a goodbye, and nobody had seen it coming. You had, you’d known it for a long time. And it was weird, you were so in love with him that you knew that it was the best for you both, to get away because though you loved him, you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. It’s difficult to let go of what makes you happy. 

You remembered it, how both of you would only smile at each other, like damn strangers, say a few hellos, and a fews how’s the weather, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in between the sheets, as if you hadn’t danced in the middle of the night, as if you hadn’t given him each of the stars in the night sky, as if you hadn’t shared enough drinks together. Or as if you hadn’t fought for your love. You with that red jacket of his. How every path led to him. How every stupid weekend belonged to him, but now you wished they’d pass by sooner. 

Maybe that’s why you were always rushing, so you wouldn’t feel it. You didn’t like the weekends anymore. 

And now, she looked at him the way you were supposed to look at him. At first, it had hurt just a little, you hadn’t believed it. You knew it, everybody wanted to love him, but nobody knew what it felt, the crushing feeling that was loving him. How much it hurt, to watch him paddling with a precious smile, and those pair of angelic eyes, so pure and then turn into a devil just for you. 

Nobody knew how it felt. Anticipating a heartbreak every time he walked in, and to pretend that you didn’t feel that anymore. 

Last time only you thought you’d give him your heart, and he had pushed you away because his heart belonged to someone else. Then it was forbidden, to think about him, to dream about him, to still smell his scent on your pillows. It wasn’t right. 

How could his heart ever belong to someone else but you? 

And you had to smile, to say you were happy for him. Because you were, and that new girl was a fool because anyone who dares to fall for him is a fool, tangled in between lies. She who dares to love him is willing to have her heart crushed by him. And who but a fool is willing to let your heart be crushed by him. 

Last time you’d seen him had been a friday night, 10pm on that one pub he liked going to. You had gone out with your friends, and he was there, with her against his shoulder, her with the long hair and the perfect smile, perfect laugh. 

To think that had been your place once. You had avoided his gaze, ignored he was there. Pretending he hadn’t seen you. But he had. Pretending you hadn’t seen him. But you had. 

Someone had said there is life after love, but there is not love after him. It’s like you’d thrown everything to the fire, and he had watched it burn. Everyone said it: you’ll be happy. 

When? 

Sure, it’d come, eventually. But it had been a year. 

You’d heard he had broken up with her, a while ago. Then it was that hope again, probably why you were recurring to that café. 

It’s funny to think you’ll love someone forever, and then it just… disappears. Every promise eventually breaks, every kiss eventually fades, and love is eventually gone.

Then why wasn’t it? 

Time was your biggest enemy. 

Your story with him, from the moment you’d first seen him, he was just—perfect, you thought about it, how everyone said it was your soulmate. And you believed it. From the moment you’d met him, you had finally believed in soulmates, because it made sense. How your story had been built up to him, and how many times of sudden joy had you had before meeting him because of how close you were. 

Life had been so reckless. You were supposed to meet him several times before you actually met. It was stupid to think, how you were always thinking about it, now that you were apart. 

The first time you’d ever crossed paths had been when you had been very, very young. You didn’t know he had been there, not aware, at a park. And there had been this sudden joy. You remembered feeling it, you’d said it, felt a spark. 

Just children unaware of a flame burning too deep inside of you. 

That other time, at the supermarket when both of you had gone with each other’s mothers and both of you had been playing with the toys. 

You’d never forgotten that one very time, first time your hands ever touched, and it had felt like electricity. Two kids very confused by that spark, when both of them had reached to that one toy, confused. 

Or that one time at the café when he had walked in, you were sure he had walked in, you’d felt it, how your heart had started to beat so fast,  but before you could even glance at him he had walked out. Lost in the crowds, always. 

How both of you had had a broken heart at the same time. First kiss had been almost at the same time, just blocks away, actually. 

Or how you’d both been at that one party, but didn’t know about it. It made no sense how life had been so desperate to get you together but both your surroundings pulled you away. That night had been so close, both dancing behind each other, singing on top of your lungs to the same stupid song. 

Or that one time when someone had pointed him to you when you were at that one pub, “look, that guy is cute.” 

You had looked at him, he was. Shy smiles had only been directed in each other’s direction. 

You’d later learned he’d sent you a drink but the waiter had mistaken the table. 

That one time when you had run out of cash at that sandwich place because their card machine had stopped working, you were rushing, and you were missing only cents, and Tom had come to your rescue. 

Or how he worked near you and his dad had been friends with your mom at some point. How his favorite song was the same as yours, and how often you’d be at the same park, him on his phone, you reading a book. 

How you’d once met his dog that had run over to you. A dog that would learn to love you and did miss you from time to time. 

How Tom had randomly found that one book you’d lost at the park once, under that willow tree and he’d read it. Loved it and then lost it again at that same park, with a random paper note that read: “Jerry’s 8pm, wine.” he’d used as a book separator. 

Who was Jerry? What would happen at 8pm? Wine? What type? Red? Rose? White? Why were you so intrigued by that note? 

You’d kept it to this day. Still didn’t know what it was. You knew Jerry now, though, he was a friend.  And now you knew that he liked wine but preferred beer. 

You’d given him a pretty book separator. He still had kept it to this day, never used it, he always used random notes or napkins or whatever he found. At first it stressed you, how many book separators did you not have and he’d use napkins or those fortune papers that come with fortune cookies. So you had transformed into a better habit, you would write notes so he’d used them. You’d order chinese food more often, too. 

He said he’d always remember that, your little notes, the way you always stained your cup of coffee with lipstick, your two left feet when you danced, or the fact that your laugh would be heard across a room. He’d always recognize your laugh. 

What a Whimsical thing love is when it’s not the right time. 

How many times have you not felt like there was something missing? Until he appeared, at that one park near the cafe where you are sitting right now. The first time you’d ever officially met. Nothing out of a book, something very casual. Both of you at that café, it had been crowded that one day and the only chair available was the one in front of you. 

“I’m sorry, hello,” he had said, making you look up from your book. “May—I sit here?” He asked. “There’s no other chair left in the room and—“

“Yeah, yeah, hi, you can sit,” you had said, without really looking at him, but the moment you had, the moment your eyes had met his, you had…. felt like the whole surrounding had disappeared and you were the only people in the room, it seemed he had also noticed something.

A cold november evening, both of you had a reason to go home yet neither of you had  gone home. Both of you had found a way to that café, with coffees in a mug. The leaves falling outside.

He had sat right in front of you, you couldn’t help but blush when noticing he was attractive, very attractive. But there was something else about him, maybe it had been the way he couldn’t sit still. He had stared at you, and smiled. 

From the very first time you’d ever seen his smile, you knew three things,

His smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on

His smile was so familiar 

His smile would eventually break your heart.

The third one wasn’t as cheerful but you could tell, he was one of those guys who could easily break someone’s heart in a blink. 

It didn’t take him a blink to break yours. You’d need a lifetime to break his. 

“I’m Tom.” 

“Y/N.” 

Both of you liked to debate over who’d talk to who first, it didn’t matter honestly. You both remembered how both of you had ordered the same drink, a cappuccino. Neither of you liked it, but apparently both of you had wanted to ask for something new. 

You’d always do that. Taste new drinks. 

And it had been… as if you’d met before. You had, multiple times before, but neither one knew, of course. Not at that point, but like you were meant to find him. The sun had gone down and it had been hours and hours of you talking to each other, like old friends who knew their deepest secrets and were catching up, laughs becoming one melody, and both of you had soon realized the cafe hadn’t been that crowded. Maybe it had been the damn destiny pulling you together. To that cafe near the park with that willow tree. 

He had asked questions you didn’t have the answers to back then. You did now. 

Before you knew it, you were walking with a stranger through the London night, seeing people walk by and not looking at them, because somehow you’d both walked to that one park. Both of you had discovered you both liked to sit on that one bench near the willow tree. How many times had you missed the other jusy by a matter of minutes. 

“You’re kidding, I love this place, I’m always here,” he had said. 

“I am, too, weird we’d never met before,” you had chuckled. 

You honestly didn’t remember how or why it had happened. A kiss. You’d kissed a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger at all. 

“I’m sorry, I-” He had started. 

“No, it’s--” 

And then kissed again. Your stomach had dropped and had been replaced with butterflies. How had a simple cappuccino led to this? 

He’d given you a smile and a promise. You’d met him the next day, and the other one, and the next one. With that stupid smile of his. 

You missed that smile, or how he flirted with you, make you giggle with a stupid joke, or how he’d open his arms to you and kiss you, tumbling down to the couch. The way he’d make you listen to him ramble about his latest discovery. How he always found a way to make you smile in the crowds, always holding your hand, new dates in different places.

“What do you mean you’ve never gone paintball?” 

Weekends only for him, going for breakfast, for dinner, for lunch, for tea, for this, for that. . Then it was the weeknights too, always finding time for you, traditions you created and that you got rid off. Laying down on the grass, looking at stars, kissing in bars, dancing in his living room, your head on his shoulder in movie theatres, his scent on your pillow, his favorite movies next to your dvd, your perfume in his closet and your toothbrush in his bathroom. Notes he’d written to remember things all around your place. Birthdays, new year, parties. 

Endless nights of laugh, of wine and of nothing at all. Kissing. Video Games you didn’t understand, failed attempts to bake, watching sport games he loved and you… tolerated. Him finally agreeing to watch that movie with Ryan Gosling. 

“Why Ryan Gosling?” 

Building plans together, nights of both of you debating on something stupid. Singing on top of your lungs without knowing the lyrics. Getting lost together, that one roadtrip where neither of you knew the way and ended up at that one hotel in the middle of the road. Kissing. Learning to read every emotion, and being each other’s blankets. Hearing each other’s ugly laughs, and crying in front of the other. Being each other’s confort. Hugging him when you were scared at the movie. Meeting the parents. 

“They loved you, don't worry.” 

Always holding each other’s hands.  Fights under the rain. Making up hours later and cuddling to let go of it. Being friends with each other’s friends. Seeing friends getting engaged, going to the weddings. Talking about a wedding. Learning, becoming their best selves. 

Then…. Cold. 

He’d left you when you had been the most in love with him. When you thought he’d shows up with a ring. But he had said goodbye instead. With his picture on your phone and your hand cold with no one to hold. He’d changed your life, completely. 

You’d learned so, so, so much. And at some point you…. Realized it. 

You should’ve known, he was not your soulmate. 

You’d read somewhere about twin flames. Yeah… you had, about the one soul that changes your life. 

You’d learned about the importance of the sunrise and the sunset, how beautiful both of them are, and how dizzy you can get when you get to see both because you didn’t get to sleep because you had laughed and kissed all night. 

They say time is wise, yet you still were hurting and you still loved him. Because it was like his love was a thread still engraved to your own very soul. And though when you were with him it was timeless, you’d learned to give more minutes to the hours you were with him so you spend just a little bit more time staring into his eyes. How you’d learned about the importance of one’s sight, and how the eyes are the doors to the soul, he’d opened his soul completely to yours. And it was so beautiful and so easy to read. 

You’d learned a lot of things, like how to throw pebbles in the ‘right way’ to the river. You’d learned how to lie to your friends so you could go see him, late at night when the moon is the only light shining above yours. You’d learned that mistakes aren’t the end of the world and that you actually are very good at baseball. 

Tom had shown you how to distinguish between a guitar and a bass, not sure why you’d always confused them. And that it’s okay to sometimes leave the clothes on the floor if you’re rushing to get somewhere. Or that sometimes the clothes end up on the floor because you’re both… rushing. That it’s okay to have breakfast for dinner and that you can have dessert before the actual main course. He’d also taught you that facetime isn’t as good as being together but it’s enough to listen to each other’s voice. He had shown you that it’s okay to laugh at sex and that sometimes it’s not as romantic as it should be, that sometimes it is silly and other times it’s passionate. That it’s okay sometimes to say what you want to say before thinking. 

And you’d shown him how to enjoy a bad movie, or how to tie his shoes this other way, and that though the night kept changing, and you both kept growing and learning, you were still the same. You taught him that it’s okay not to know the lyrics and still sing the song, and that if you add a pinch of salt to the cookies you’re baking it’d make it sweeter. 

You’d taught him that Chinese legend. The red thread. 

“It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love,” you had told him. “In China it’s around your ankle, I believe… In Japan, male’s thumb and the female's little fingers, and in Korea are both little fingers.” 

He’d once, jokingly but not really wrapped around both of your pinkies a red thread. 

“I made it visible, see?” He had said. 

“You’re an idiot,” you had chuckled. 

“What happens if you’re apart?” He had wondered. 

“It’s supposed to bring you back together, it…” 

“Can I pull it, if I ever need you?” 

“I guess,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure.” 

“Can it break?” He asked. 

“I… don’t know,” you had confessed with fear.

Because you didn’t know. Maybe yours had been broken. 

But you kept teaching him things, and he kept teaching you other things. You’d also taught him not to never mistake salt for sugar to add to your tea. 

“They’re both a white powder I thought-” 

“Yeah I can think of more white powders that would’ve also gotten us in trouble.” 

You’d taught him that as long as you were his and he was yours, you’d shine as bright as stars. He’d shown you how to say ‘I love you’ to someone for the first time. Because you had, when you least had expected it, just about a weeks after you’d first dated. 

You wanted to order something for dinner, that one night, he was on his laptop ordering food,  you were cuddled against him reading who knows what. 

“Is it weird I want more fortune cookies? Would you be weirded out if someone was asking for more fortune cookies?” He had asked. 

You chuckled. “To get more fortune?” 

“To get more cookies, darling,” he had grinned. “Can’t be more fortunate than this, I am dating you, ain’t I?” 

“Very fortunate” you chuckled as he was ordering. 

“How much food would I have to order for them to send us like ten cookies?” He asked, mostly to himself. 

You laughed, “why don’t you bake them yourself?” 

“We both know we suck at baking, baby,” he reminded you as he kept adding food to the cart. “Besides we wouldn’t get the fortune paper thing, I like those as book separators.” 

He did use them as book separators and liked to randomly leave them on your nightstand  

“Why do you want them? We could buy them next week at the supermarket 

“They’re so good, darling and it’s not the same, they’re not fate then.” 

You only smiled, watching him. 

“Why don’t they sell like… the cookies?” He asked again. 

“They do—“

“No, not but like at the restaurants because they choose which ones to give you, that is fate,”  he continued. “Or like… Okay is this enough food so they think we are like ten  people here? Like if I order enough food they’ll send it to us, right?” He kept rambling to himself. “Like okay, we’d have to eat this for a while but baby look at the bright side we’d have more cookies and that would make me happy because I like the cookies, plus I wouldn’t steal your notes to use as a book separator and we could have like enough fortune things to… I don’t know wrap presents with.” 

And it had come out, so easily, “I love you,” you’d said without thinking about it, interrupting his rambling. You’d felt it for long enough, first time you’d ever kissed him  but somehow you’d never said it. 

And he had stopped worrying for the cookies suddenly, as he only looked at you, he hadn’t been prepared. He had only opened his mouth with surprise. He wasn’t as hungry anymore. 

“I--” he hadn’t said it back. 

“No, I’m sorry, no, no I’m sorry,” you gulped and sat up to get away. “No I didn’t--No, I don’t… I mean, no, yeah I do, I’m… Look you don’t have to… say it…I don’t love—No, I do, I do—“

He had smiled and took a deep breath, with surprise. 

You walked away. “No, baby, sorry—Tom, I’m sorry you don’t have to say anything I’ll just—Yeah.” 

You had tried to walk away but he had tackled you from behind, and turned you around to kiss you in his very way.  “I love you, too.” 

And the food had eventually arrived after kissing for god knows how long and you remembered opening that one fortune cookie. 

“Love, because is the only true adventure.” 

And it had been. The greatest adventure of your life, and it hadn’t been one of those crazy adventures. It had been small, but great. Good enough He’d forgotten one thing, he’d never shown you how to get over him. How to live without him. 

And you had said it, how it would never be too late for him to come back. He wouldn’t, you know. But he knew it, you’d always have each other. 

You had read about twin flames. How the compatibility and energy is so strong, so, so strong, so meant to be.  An intense soul connection, sometimes called a "mirror soul," thought to be a person's other half.  A same soul. And at times it did feel like it. 

But it doesn’t have to be forever. 

It should’ve been, though. 

But Tom was easily scared, and maybe he’d felt like his life with you would be forever, and you didn’t blame him for being scared. Finding the love of your life doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have to spend your whole life with them. 

“I’m always going to love you,” he had said. You knew he wouldn’t. 

But he’d never leave your heart or your mind, no matter what, day, noon, midnight. He was always there, but he had moved on. Or had he, really? 

He hadn’t. But both of you had a very different version of the relationship. He had waited for you at that willow tree, you’d waited for him at that café. And it had been like that for a while, both of you waiting at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

He did miss you, very, very much and he also couldn’t get over you. You didn’t know, but even when he was dating this other girl he kept going back to you. He had kept his promise, he would always love you. With every cell, with every bone on his body. With his entire soul, because it felt like it was missing its other half. 

He had stopped burning when he was apart from you. No light, no nothing.

Because everything led back to you, everything was about you. And he had bumped into you several more times, you hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen you walking in the rain, and he’d seen you when he stared at himself in the mirror. He saw you in every fortune cookie he ate, or in every book separator he found. He had felt incomplete when he wasn’t with you. 

And after you’d broken up, Tom had felt incredibly numb and sad, your pain combined with his. He’d always wondered why that happened how he knew how you were feeling, a hunch he’d say. 

He’d always have a song stuck in his head, and he’d be thinking of you at the most random times. He’d always expect to find your lipstick stain on his mugs 

He always wanted to call, he never did though. But he was there, even if you didn’t notice. Like how he’d randomly send you a coffee with your friends, asking them not to tell you it came from him, or how if he ever walked by your place, he’d clean the dust from the mailbox because he knew how much you hated when it got dirty. How he had become friends with that guy from the Chinese place you liked to order from and he’d told him to always give you extra fortune cookies.

Tom wasn’t the same when he was apart from you, he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t smiled. But he did see one bright thing because it felt like he was being pulled back to you. 

He regretted breaking up because he’d been too scared to admit you were on the other side of the string. He feared it could break. But he was also scared that he would become the person he was before you, and how you probably wouldn’t like who he was before that. 

He also didn’t believe in soulmates, until you came. Because he thought And he thought your connection was too strong to be a simple soulmate. His soul and yours were one. 

But he’d left because he had to learn the last lesson, the one lesson you couldn’t technically teach him, and that lesson could only be taught by missing you. And damn, did he miss you. 

Because no one was you, no one knew his smile like you did and no one could read him like you. Your perfume still lingered and he missed your toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed having to get your hair out of his face when you were asleep. He missed the way you’d leave your books around his house or the way that he heard you sing the wrong lyrics. Tom missed the way you’d kiss his temple when you woke up earlier than him and how you always covered him with blankets. Tom missed looking into your eyes and making you laugh by making a stupid joke, knowing you’d be the only one laughing. 

He missed having you around at parties, when all of his friends were talking about things he didn’t like and he looked for you to give you that one knowing look but you weren’t there. He missed you when he got drunk, he missed you when you he woke up, when he wanted to run to you and kiss your cheek from behind. When he wanted to watch a bad movie and laugh at it, he’d miss you all the time. 

Tom was gone, yes. But Tom was gone because he wasn’t with you, and he couldn’t be himself again. How could he after you? 

Was there life after love? 

And eventually he’d seen you, always running into you but not letting you see him because he knew it would hurt you, it hurt him too. But how many times had his shoulder not bumped into yours without you noticing because your head was low. Or how many times had he not heard your laugh across the room and seen you. You were everywhere. 

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t get the courage like that one first time when he’d first asked to sit with you, that one time when he’d first kissed you. No other pair of lips deserved to be kissed after he had kissed you. 

And life was pulling him back to you but he didn’t know if you’d take him. He was scared that you had moved on, but something told him you couldn’t. He somehow knew that you still loved him because he loved you too. 

So he’d sit there, under that willow tree waiting for you to come back. But he was always running out of time, always having elsewhere to be. Because no one ever has time. 

You did, too, always rushing and that’s why you never saw him. Until today, with that mug in your hands, watching people, couples. Soulmates. And there you were, at that cafe, waiting for him to come, near that one park with the willow tree where you’d first kissed. 

Wishing he would come. 

But life is a strange thing, and maybe it had been the fact that the foam on your cappuccino had spoken to you, or the fact that you’d still kept that one fortune paper on the back of your phone, hidden underneath the case, or the fact that you had almost poured salt into your coffee instead of sugar, or maybe it had been  that thread around your finger or maybe a coincidence by itself, but somehow you’d left that café that day, willing to go to that willow tree for the first time.

Because no one ever truly has time, but he had pulled the string. 

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

To Love or To Lose

Sebastian Stan masterlist - Full masterlist

Summary: Antony convinced Sebastion to take a small vacation to Europe with him. In a mixup of sorts, they end up at the small town bar you work at. There’s a spark between you and Sebastian but they’re only there for a few days before they have to leave again. You’ll be damned if you let Sebastian go that easily.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3145

Author’s note: Hi, I wrote this very, very quickly at 1am because this was in my dream last night and I couldn’t get rid of it in my head. Yes, this is fully just a story I thought up for myself to insert myself in. I am Dutch. 

‘We’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘Just admit we’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘We can just use our phone-’ ‘We’re not lost!’ Sebastian sighs and looks around while Antony tries to figure out the cyclist map they bought in town. He’s sure they’ve cycled for miles but they must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now they’re in the Dutch countryside, surrounded by fields and farms. ‘Oh, look at this.’ Antony pulls Sebastian’s attention back to the map. He points at a street sign and then to the street as indicated on the map. ‘There’s a town just a little bit away from here.’ ‘Good, let’s go.’ Sebastian hops on his bike faster than Mackie can fold the map and is almost down the street when Antony joins him. They are surprised by the fact that there is a huge intersection just around the corner. ‘I guess you were right,’ Sebastian admits. Mackie just laughs and presses the button for the traffic lights. They cycle down the street to a roundabout and decide to take the first exit even though it seems less busy. ‘We could have a drink,’ Sebastian points out when they pass a small, roadside café. ‘We’ll have a drink at the next one,’ Antony says, still a bit sour that they’re not where they’re supposed to be yet. And no more than half a mile later they spot the next café. ‘Fine,’ Antony sighs. They cross the street and set their bike’s in their respective places in front of the bar. ‘Must be a bunch of alcoholics in this town if they have two bars in the same street,’ Mackie jokes, knowing that half of the people won’t understand him if they aren’t paying attention.

The terrace is quite full but there’s space. They walk up to a small standing table that has a sign on it. Neither of them can read it but they suppose it means something like “Wait here for service.” They see a tall, lanky man with a beard and messy hair walk around the terrace, delivering drinks to the patrons. He makes eye contact with the two and nods at them to let them know he’s coming. ‘Ik kom zo bij jullie.’ A girl rushes past so fast that Sebastian barely gets the chance to look at her. She carries a tray full of tap beer to a table across the terrace with such ease that it looks like second nature to her. Antony nudges him. ‘What do you think she said?’ ‘Probably something about coming over here to help us?’ ‘Yeah, sure.’ Together, they watch the girl as she stands by a table with rowdy men giving her lusting looks and strange smiles. They’re quite obviously very drunk. Sebastian takes a second to take her in as she stands with her back towards them. She has her hair in a kind of half-up, half-down style and wears a copper wrap dress with white specks on it. From the side, Sebastian can see a tattoo peek out from under her dress. She wears white tennis shoes with creme-colored ruffled socks poking out of them. When she turns around with a smile on her face he can see her red lips and blushy cheeks. She walks incredibly fast for someone her height, though she is a bit taller than the average American woman she still looks quite short compared to other people around. ‘Wat kan ik voor jullie betekenen?’ She speaks in Dutch and then she does a double-take. There’s recognition in her eyes as she speaks again: ‘Oh, sorry. How may I help you?’ ‘We’d like to have a drink and some help with our map,’ Antony tells her. ‘Of course,’ she smiles and looks around the terrace, ‘I have a spot down there on the benches or a few under the parasol.’ ‘Seb?’ He takes a look around and finds a nice spot that doesn’t have too much sun but isn’t quite in the shade either. Plus, it’s a bit more secluded. ‘That one over there. Is that okay?’ She looks down at the paper in front of her and nods. ‘Yeah, that’s alright. Have a seat. I’ll be right there.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem.’ She runs back into the bar to do whatever she has to do. They sit down and watch her dart all over the terrace, stopping shorty to inform her colleague with the beard of something, and then walks over to them. ‘What can I get you?’  She smiles brightly at the two. ‘A beer please,’ Antony says. ‘Make that two,’ Sebastian adds. She nods. ‘Two beers, coming right up.’ And she’s gone again. Before she reaches the door, she seems to be stopped by a guest whose glass is still full. She talks to her briefly and while the woman talking to her seems very serious, she keeps laughing it off. All while darting short glances at them and then the woman she’s talking to points at them. Of course, Antony takes that opportunity to joke around. He points at himself with a questioning look as he catches the woman’s eye. She shakes her head and points at Sebastian. The girl waves it off and quickly runs inside. It takes less than a minute until she’s outside again and standing at their table. ‘What was all that about,’ Antony asks her as she puts the beers down in front of them. ‘Oh, she’s a regular and she was curious why she heard me talk English.’ ‘So why the pointing?’ Her cheeks turn bright red as she clutches her tray with two hands but the look on her face seems to tell a whole different story than her body language. She chuckles. ‘She knows my love life is a mess and she knows I fall for guys like you,’ she tells the two as she looks at Sebastian, ‘I might have to prepare you for her. She’s quite the woman and she’s tried to set me up with guests before.’ Antony laughs. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to handle her.’ ‘You’re American, right?’ He nods. ‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle her.’ With those words, she walks away with a huge grin on her lips.

‘En?’ The woman looks anxiously excited for your answer. You laugh and wave her off. ‘Heb het niet gevraagd.’ I didn’t ask. ‘Waarom niet?’ Why not? ‘Hij komt alleen voor een drankje en ik ben aan her werk. Ik hoor niet met gasten te flirten.’ He’s only here for a drink and I’m working. I’m not supposed to flirt with guests. ‘Dus? Hij is je type en je bent al bijna een jaar niet uit geweest.’ So? He’s your type and you haven’t gone out in a year. You sigh and shake your head. ‘Ik ga hem niet uit vragen.’ I’m not going to ask him out. ‘Dan doe ik het.’ Then I will. ‘Be my guest.’ She gets up from her chair and limps over to the two Americans sitting across the terrace. You can’t help but watch what she’s going to do and your coworker joins you. ‘Wat gaat Sanne doen?’ What’s Sanne doing? ‘Ze gaat een date voor me regelen.’ She’s getting me a date. He looks over at the two men and looks a bit confused. ‘Wacht, zijn dat-’ Wait, are they- ‘Sebastian Stan en Antony Mackie. De winter soldier en de falcon.’ ‘Maar die zijn toch al veertig ofzo?’ Aren’t those two like forty or something? You shrug. ‘Sanne stond erop. Op deze manier laat ze in ieder geval even met rust.’ Sanne insisted. At least she’ll leave me alone for a while after this. ‘Je gaat ervan uit dat ze niet me je uit zouden willen?’ You’re assuming they wouldn’t go out with you? ‘Antony is getrouwd en ik ben vrij zeker dat ze beter dan mij kunnen krijgen. Er staan letterlijk modellen voor ze in de rij.’ Antony is married and I’m pretty sure they can get better than me. Modells literally line up for them. ‘Ze ziet er anders vrij tevreden uit.’ She looks pretty satisfied. We watch as Sanne walks back towards us with a victorious look on her face. ‘Tom, je moet haar vrij geven. Hij zei dat hij met haar uit zo gaan als ze zou helpen met hun kaart. Ze zijn verdwaalt ofzo.’ Tom, you have to give her the rest of the day off. He told me that he’d take her out if she’d help them with their map. They’re lost or something. You could sink into the ground right there and then. Tom checks his watch and seems to seriously consider it. ‘Ja, ga ze maar helpen. T is toch rustig.’ Yeah, you go help them. It’s not busy. Your jaw drops. Tom can be quite lazy and often keeps you on until closing so he doesn’t have to do everything alone. ‘Je maakt een grapje.’ You’re kidding, right? He nudges you towards the door of the bar, knowing that you’ll have to write down your hours and grab your phone before you sit down with them. ‘Nee, kom op. Dit meen je niet.’ No, come on. You’re not serious. ‘Y/n, maakt niet uit wat er gebeurt, dit is een geweldig verhaal om te vertellen op feestjes. Ga gewoon.’ Y/n, it doesn’t matter what happens, this’ll still be a great story to tell at parties. Just go. Sanne puts her hand on your shoulder as she says it. You sigh and take your loss. Or win. However you want to look at it. ‘Wat wil je drinken?’ What do you want to drink? Tom asks as he trails behind you into the building. ‘Doe maar een biertje.’ A beer would be nice. He nods and gets to tapping while you fill in your hours in the folder behind the bar and take your phone out of a drawer under the coffee machine. ‘Ik haat je.’ I hate you. ‘Tuurlijk.’ For sure. Tom hands you your beer and you head outside to sit down with Sebastian and Antony. You grab a chair and pull it towards their table. When you sit down, both men have an astonished look on their faces. ‘They actually gave you the day off,’ Antony asks, ‘all because your love life isn’t ideal?’ ‘You clearly underestimated how terrible my love life is,’ you joke. ‘Well now you’ve gotta tell us everything,’ Antony urges as he leans back in his chair. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’ ‘I’m supposed to take you on a date, so I would like it if you did tell me something,’ Sebastian says. ‘You really don’t have to,’ you tell them, ‘I know she’s a scary woman but she won’t kill you or anything. Besides, you won’t ever see either of us again once you leave.’ ‘That’s fair but this is a great story,’ Sebastian shrugs. You scoff and scoot your chair a little closer. ‘Sure. Now let’s see this map of yours.’

“We found it.” Sebastian sends the text and drops his bag in his room. It takes only a few seconds until you send a message back. “Yay, good job.” He smiles as he sits down on his bed and types his response. “Nah, that was all you.” “I wouldn’t be too grateful. I am going to cyberbully the shit out of you.” “Sure.” There’s knocking on his hotel room. He calls for the person to come in, knowing it’ll probably be Mackie and it is. ‘Hey man,’ he says and sits down in a nice chair across the room. ‘Hey,’ Sebastian replies, ‘you got a good room?’ ‘Great. Say, are you going to go back to take our tour guide on that date?’ Sebastian shrugs. ‘I was thinking about it but she’s quite a bit younger.’ ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Antony says with a nod. ‘But I still think you should do it.’ ‘Hold on, why?’ ‘She said something on the terrace that kind of stuck with me.’ He gets up from his chair and walks over to the window to look out over the busy Amsterdam streets. He looks a bit disappointed by the view. He preferred the small town. ‘You will probably never see her again after you leave.’ ‘What?’ ‘She’s from a small town, she works in the town’s bar, no one has a clue who you are around there. And I saw how you looked at her. So why not take a chance? Best case scenario, you have a fun date. Worst case scenario, you have a great date and are stuck with feelings for a woman who lives across the world. Either way, she’s fun to be around.’ Sebastian is shocked for a second but Antony is spitting straight facts. Y/n was a joy to talk to while she was helping them figure out their next move and what does he really have to lose? ‘You’re right.’

~Two months later~

‘Sebastian, we heard you finally took a trip with Antony Mackie. Do you have any stories?’ The fan looks smug as she asks it like she knows something. Like she knows what he and Mackie know. He adjusts himself in his seat and puts the microphone to his mouth. ‘We went to the Netherlands and when you’re there you have to go cycling. We got lost and Mackie refused to use his phone to look for where to go so we ended up in a small local bar where the waitress helped us find out that we were actually cycling towards the wrong city. We wanted to cycle to Amsterdam and we ended up in Amersfoort.’ And then I fell for the waitress who showed us around the city to make sure we had a good time either way even if we could’ve just taken a taxi to Amsterdam. We stayed longer than we should’ve and I miss her. But he doesn’t say that. He couldn’t. ‘The waitress,’ the interviewer asks in disbelief, ‘she could speak English?’ ‘The Dutch are actually great English speakers.’ ‘Was the waitress cute?’ Sebastian laughs. ‘She was adorable,’ he says, trying to play it off as a joke, an exaggeration, ‘but she was really smart. She helped us figure it out and even helped us to get back to our hotel.’ ‘You didn’t sneak her in, did you?’ ‘Oh, no, no. She just told us what to do and where to go.’

Sebastian walks through his apartment when his phone goes off. He checks the screen to see Mackie’s name pop up and he sighs. He knows what he wants to talk about. The interview went up just an hour or so ago. ‘I know,’ Sebastian says as he presses his phone to his ear. “Just for good measure, I’m going to tell you anyway. Call her.” ‘I can’t do that to her.’ “To her or to yourself?” ‘It’s too much of a distance. Even for long-distance.’ “She told you she’s thinking of moving to Canada.” ‘Doesn’t mean she’ll move here with the probability of a relationship. And a relationship in the spotlight.’ “So you’re going to deny you felt something?” ‘I’m not going to deny it, I just-’ “You’re going to bottle it up until it eats you alive in hopes of losing feelings.” Antony sighs. “Seb, this girl was made for you.” His phone starts beeping. ‘Hold up, I’m getting another line.’ “Sebastian, don’t-” He hangs up and picks the other call up without checking who is calling. He just wanted to get rid of Mackie for bothering him about Y/n again. ‘Hello?’ “Oh, hey.” Sebastian freezes at the sound of your voice coming through the speaker. “I didn’t think you’d pick up this fast. I need some help.” ‘From me?’ “Yes, I seem to have taken a wrong turn while cycling to Amsterdam.” She giggles softly. “And now I’m lost in New Amsterdam.” ‘New Amsterdam?’ He feels his stomach tingle at the words but he isn’t sure if she’s hinting at what she’s hinting at. “No, wait, they don’t call it that anymore. New York.” ‘You’re in New York?’ “Yeah, some dude with a gap in his teeth dropped me off in front of an apartment complex in SoHo but I think I’ve been scammed.” ‘In SoHo?’ He rushes to his window, struggling to open it with one hand. “Yeah, you know anyone who might have a place for me to rest my head until I figure out how to get back?” He finally pulls the window open and sticks his head out to look down and there you stand. You smile up at him and wave. “Oh, there you are,” she says through the phone. ‘I’ll be right down.’ He doesn’t waste another second. He pulls on his shoes on his bare feet, hopping as he goes. Snatches his keys from the table and sprints out, not really caring that he looks a mess. He runs down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and bursts out the door. You smile at him and he freezes, suddenly realizing you’re really here. ‘Wow,’ he mumbles, ‘it’s you.’ ‘Hey,’ you say as you bite your lip. He leans in slightly and then Sebastian becomes awfully aware of the prying eyes on the New York streets. He wants to hold you, kiss your lips, but he can’t on the street. Not when you just came here. ‘Come in,’ he says as he starts to usher you inside. He walks you to the elevator and presses the button. It opens right away and the two of you step inside. He notices you study his face and he feels himself getting nervous. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Trying to figure out if you’re actually happy to see me or just scared that I’m a stalker.’ ‘I’m happy to see you,’ he tells you as he suppresses a smile. You don’t. You smile brightly as you take his hand. The feeling is familiar and yet a little nostalgic after being apart for two whole months. ‘I���m happy to see you too.’ The elevator door opens and he shows you to his door. It’s only then that he notices you don’t have anything with you. ‘Did you jump on a plane like this?’ ‘No, I got a hotel room just in case I read you all wrong when you left.’ You take off your shoes as you step inside, something you also did at your own place when you took him home. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. ‘You didn’t’. Your arms slide around his neck as if they’re meant to be there. He slowly dips down and presses a kiss to your lips. ‘Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me two weeks.’ ‘And after that?’ ‘I either introduce you to my parents or I go back.’ ‘Go hard or go home.’ ‘Exactly.’

[pascalpanic]

Prom Date (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: It’s approximately 2030, and you were in the graduating high school class of 2021. Your boyfriend, Frankie, is slightly older than you and doesn’t know that you never got a prom, a graduation, any of it. Being the sweetheart he is, he decides that he needs to fix that. 

Warnings: cursing, the tiniest allusions to Frankie’s drug problem and his ex-wife, cavity-inducing fluff

WC: 3.4k

A/N: Okay, this one goes out to the kids who don’t get the chance for prom because of COVID: that sucks. This is my fix-it fic for you! This takes place after the events of Triple Frontier mainly because I didn’t want to write Tom but as if it happened a number of years after it did in the timeline so it’s maybe around 2030 here and the heist happened in like 2028ish then? So Frankie’s the age he was then, separated from the mom of his kid, and getting maybe like 50/50 custody of her. Here’s my inspo for what Luna, Frankie’s baby looks like! Her mom is only briefly mentioned but that’s where the gray eyes come from, the brown wavy hair is all him 💖. Also, I think the nickname Thumper is adorable for little kids who have lots of energy (it was also my nickname as a baby) and so Frankie most definitely calls Luna “Thumper”. I also, naturally, have inspo for the reader’s dress and Luna’s, but the outfits are never described specifically so you can feel free to imagine what you want for their outfits! Additional note: I don’t understand children’s milestones so please just suspend your disbelief if Luna is doing something that’s not fitting for a kid of 22 months, oops. Biggest thanks to @lunasblipsandblurbs​ and @ilikechocolatemilkh​ for their help- there may or may not be two characters named after them in here ;) and as always, my trusty proofreader Miki (who’s a nerd and doesn’t have Tumblr)

Movie night was going as it usually did for you and Frankie Morales: the TV droned quietly in the background while you cuddled with him, sitting in his lap. The two of you chattered and made out instead of watching the movie. Somehow the conversation made its way to your high school experience. That was a long time ago now. Both of you were fully grown adults. Hell, Frankie had a baby, you were working on a Master’s degree, and the two of you lived in a house together. Your high school experience was far different from his, you two soon discovered. He had all of it; you had your junior and senior year during a pandemic.

Your boyfriend looks at you incredulously. “So you never had a prom?”

You shake your head. “I wish I did, but no. I cried so hard when they announced that it wouldn’t happen,” you admit with a sad smile. “My best friend and I still wore gowns and got dressed up, but we just took pictures in the park and ate Mexican food on the couch.”

“As much as that sounds like a blast, that’s so shitty,” Frankie chuckles and snuggles you closer to his chest. “Was all of your senior year like that?”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “Fully digital and everything. Didn’t even get the chance to go to my junior prom either.” 

“Jesus. And you had the shit luck to be born into the one year where you didn’t get either?” He asks, rubbing your back and nuzzling his face into your hair. 

“Class of ‘21, what a time,” you sigh. It was true- you were the one graduating class that the pandemic hit hardest. It had upset you at the time, but you had gotten over it by now. It was years ago anyway, that didn’t matter. “My luck can’t be that shit. I still have a pretty damn cute boyfriend,” you tease and lift your head, softly kissing his lips before breaking away and resting your head on his shoulder once more. 

Frankie pouts down at you. “But you got all of that taken from you! Senior year was supposed to be the time to slack off and have fun. I took, like, two shop classes and one on basic aviation. Didn’t do anything,” he laughs. 

“Even if I was at school, it wouldn’t have been like that for me, Frankie,” you chuckle softly. “I was taking a bunch of classes for college credits and everything.”

“I know, hermosa, you’re a nerd. Just play along with me this time,” he asks jokingly, jostling you around on his lap. 

“Frankie,” you squeal and cling to him, laughing. “Fine. Poor me, I didn’t get anything from my senior year. It has haunted me and made my life a living hell.” You give him a fake pout. “Is that better?”

A smile covers his face as he looks at you. “Much better. Because now that you’re upset, I’m going to get to make it better. We’re throwing you a prom.”

You immediately frown. “Frankie, we’re adults now. Prom is not important to me the way it was then,” you try to reason with him, but you know your boyfriend. If he’s got a plan, you can’t get him out of it. 

Frankie shakes his head and takes off his ball cap, setting it on your head teasingly. “Too bad. We’re having a prom for you, babe. You deserve it, a night all about you. Here, you know what?” He says, his face lighting up as another idea pops into his head. “We’ll do it for your birthday, since that’s coming up. We’ll have a birthday party-prom for you,” he says, absolutely beaming. 

“No, Frankie,” you start to protest, but he cuts you off. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll dress Luna up, I’ll rent a tux, we can invite the boys,” he offers and the more he talks, the more you have to admit that this idea sounds like a blast. Your frown slowly eases into a smile as he talks. “Oh, you like it, this is happening,” he laughs and kisses your head, pulling you close to his chest. “Babe, will you be my prom date?”

“It’s not the most elegant of prom-posals,” you tease, “but it’ll do. Of course I will.” You nod and beam up at him. He kisses your forehead and the two of you return to watching the movie.

-

When the day, your birthday, rolled around, your first order of business was queueing the music for the night. Frankie had decided it was your night, and that made it that much easier for him to pin that responsibility on you. It was to ensure you liked the music that was playing, he had said, and he had half-heartedly meant it. 

As you sat on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, bouncing his daughter on your knee, you filled out the playlist for the dance. “There better be some Fleetwood Mac on there,” Frankie says with a grin as he walks into the room, fresh from the shower. Luna, his baby, reaches for him excitedly and he picks her up. “And maybe something like Baby Shark for this one,” he teases and blows a raspberry onto her tummy, earning a giggle from his daughter.

You grin up at him and his little girl, laughing. “Luna’s only in it for the pictures, come on,” you say and tilt your head as you look at him. “But you’ll be happy to know that I put down The Chain as the first song of the night.”

“Yes!” Frankie exclaims and flops down on the bed next to you, Luna giggling as the two of them fall. She crawls over to lie between the two of you, enjoying being between her two favorite people. “Aw, is that your mama?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Frankie, no,” you say and bite your lip for a second, looking away from the two of them. You know she loves you, and you absolutely adore her, but it hurts your heart that you’ll probably be nothing more than Dad’s girlfriend to her. “She knows that.”

“Hey, she knows the difference in you and Maria,” he shakes his head. “But that’s her mother, and you’re her mama, right niña?” he coos to the little girl and she giggles, burying her face in your stomach. It melts your heart. “Yeah, your mama.”

“My niña,” you murmur happily and pull her up to your chest, wrapping your arms around her. Luna relaxes happily as her head meets your chest. Frankie chuckles a little at the fact that your Spanish grammar isn’t entirely correct, but he doesn’t challenge your words. “Are you gonna tell me what your daddy is planning for tonight?” You ask her, teasingly nonchalant, before looking down at Frankie.

His face holds a little bit of a red flush. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he says, playing it cool.

“I know you too well, Francisco,” you tease and look down at him, rubbing Luna’s back gently. “You’ve got some kind of surprise plan for tonight, and I can’t tell what it is, but I know you’re planning something. You’ve got the worst poker face,” you laugh and cup the side of his face with your hand, enjoying the feeling of the stubble beneath your palm.

Frankie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, but you can feel the way his skin warms with the lie. “I don’t have anything planned that you don’t know about,” he tells you quickly.

You simply smile at him and rub the side of his face. “That’s a blatant lie, babe. But I’ll let it slide, since I know whatever surprise it is will be a good one,” you chuckle and press your lips to his. He smiles back and cups your face too. Luna makes a noise of disgust and pushes the two of you away. You both laugh at her action and smile down at the little girl, a carbon copy of her father save for her eyes. She takes her tiny hands and puts them on either side of Frankie’s face, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Oh my god, Luna,” you laugh. “Am I not good enough for your daddy? Is he breaking up with me, is that it?”  You ask teasingly.

“I’m getting you dressed up and treating you nice before breaking up with you, yes,” Frankie retorts sarcastically and rests his head on your shoulder, picking up his little girl and bringing her to sit between the two of you, perfectly fitting in the space where your thighs press against each other. 

“You never know,” you shrug with a smile. Luna grabs your face and kisses your nose this time, and your heart melts. “Aw, thank you. We’re each getting some love, huh?” You ask the little girl and tug at her wavy brown whale-spout ponytail. “Well, I think you and I need to get all dolled up, don’t you think?” You ask her and she giggles excitedly, babbling an affirmation in her little speech pattern. 

Scooting off the side of the bed, you kiss Frankie sweetly before picking Luna up. “Alright, Thumper,” you say with a mock groan. “Wow, you’re growing so much,” you say as you jokingly grunt at the effort of holding her. “You’re gonna be as tall as your daddy soon!” Luna protests that, giggling and playfully hitting your arm, mimicking what she’s seen her father do teasingly.

Frankie watches the two of you adoringly, his heart in his eyes. The two girls that matter most to him. “Hopefully not,” he shakes his head, chuckling and simply watching the two of you interact.

-

Frankie and Santiago did a wonderful job decorating, and the backyard is beautiful just as the sun goes down. Twinkle lights line the perimeter of the stone patio, and the night is a wonderfully warm dream, the colors of the sky absolutely stunning with tiny cotton wisps floating through. The boys are all dressed in their tuxedos, Frankie even omitting his traditional ball cap and putting some gel into his curls, and you beam as you and their dates take pictures of the four of them. They’re making the “delta” symbol with their index fingers and thumbs, naturally, since the Delta Squadron seems to be their favorite thing to call themselves. “You look like a bunch of sorority girls,” you call out over the already-blasting music, making Frankie’s face flush slightly.

“Santi’s hot as hell, but you sure got the cute one,” Lex, Santiago’s date murmurs to you, and you laugh at that. You wink at Frankie and he winks back, right as you press the button to take the photo. “Look at that, I mean come on,” she laughs and nudges your side. You two just met tonight, unsurprising since Santiago always brings new girls around, but you find her to be easy company. The Miller boys each brought a date, neither anyone you know, but the two of them stand separately. “And you, my dear, are just as cute as your daddy,” she grins down at the little girl holding your dress. “Okay, enough of these idiots,” she calls. “Time for couples’ photos! Moraleses, you first,” she says and scoots you (and subsequently Luna) towards the fence wall, decorated for the photos with fake vines, flowers and twinkling lights.

“We’re not-” you and Frankie both stumble nervously, avoiding saying ‘married’ or any word of the kind. You both give up as your eyes meet, and a smile falls across both of your faces. You give your head a little shake and the two of you dismiss it. The men disband from around Frankie and Luna runs to his side, him squatting down to pick her up. “Mija,” Frankie exclaims as she barrels into his chest, nearly knocking him over. “Don’t you two look wonderful, all matching?” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your lips before Luna groans and pushes your face away. 

You laugh, both at his words and Luna’s actions. The toddler had insisted that the two of you match colors; your dresses were different, but the same hue, and you both had absolutely beamed at the fact that the two of you were dressed similarly, especially when she informed you that she wanted to look just like you. “And you, in your tux,” you smile and break away, straightening Frankie’s bow tie. 

The group takes photos of the two of you as you converse and kiss, especially at Luna breaking the affection up with her tiny hands. You take pictures in different poses: where you stand now, Luna standing on her own, you and Frankie in the classic and cheesy prom pose, some with just you and him, him and Luna, just you and the little girl, who absolutely thrives under the spotlight given to her by the adults. Benny comments like she’s a model walking a runway, and she giggles, hiding her face in the tulle of your skirt. You keep an eye on the level of the sun in the sky, since Frankie’s mom is coming to pick Luna up later to allow the party to last as late as you want it to.

As the pictures are finished, you go to the ledge where you set your phone, starting the first song for the dance part. Just like you promised Frankie earlier, it’s The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. All of the boys holler excitedly as they recognize the song, grabbing their dates and starting to dance with them. Frankie picks up Luna and starts swaying her along to the slow beginning; naturally, with a father like hers, she already knows the tune and shouts along to the words.  You walk over to the two of them, singing already, and Frankie takes your hand, giving you a little twirl. You happily follow along, grinning at his little girl resting against his chest. She’s tired already, and you’re not surprised; despite the excitement of getting ready, it’s past her typical bedtime. He sets her down and she runs off to find her Uncle Santi, dancing with him, and Frankie takes you in his arms, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs with you. 

As the song draws to an end, the second song comes on: a slow one, the song you and Frankie have always loved. His heart speeds up as he thinks about what he’s about to do. He signals behind your back to the older Miller brother, who finds his way to your phone and turns it down a little. You lift your head from his shoulder at the change in volume, clearly upset. “Will, why the hell did you turn it down?” you call across the backyard, and he simply shrugs, holding the best deadpan he can. Frankie pulls away from you, probably to go knock him upside the head, you assume, but the look on his face confuses you. “What?” you ask him, looking down as you notice Luna has once again attached herself to your leg.

Frankie takes a deep breath then grins at you, and your confusion is just as strong. You ask him the same question, tilting your head, and you notice that the rest of the couples have turned to stare at the two of you. “Mi amor, you know how much I love you, right?” He asks. You nod, a small smile on your face, still confused. “I adore you, with everything in me. The most important thing in my life, my little girl, she loves you just as much. I know I’m a difficult man. I’ve done some messed-up shit, been a junkie, been a recovering idiot basically,” he chuckles softly, “but you never care about that, just about who I am now. You’re so wonderful, so perfect,” he tells you, the softest smile on his face. Your heart starts fluttering. Where did this monologue come from? What is- oh, you realize, and the smile drops. His drops too and he pauses, but you grin again, even wider, and he picks up his train of thought.

“Do you have it, just like we practiced?” He asks as he looks down at Luna, who nods and giggles excitedly. She’s holding something, something she wasn’t before. “Buena, mija,” he nods and ruffles her hair. She hands the object to her father, quickly enough that you can’t see it, then runs off to clutch at Benny’s hand, leaning against him. Your heart stops in your chest as you see what he’s holding: a small, rectangular box covered in velvet. You go to say his name but the words die before they can exit your mouth. “Will you do me the honor,” he begins asking as he falls to one knee and taking your hand, “of becoming my wife, of letting me marry you and be with you forever?” 

Tears well in your eyes at the love in your heart, your face hurting from how wide you’re smiling. He opens the box to reveal the ring inside, simple and elegant yet stunning, just like the relationship between the two of you. You go to tell him yes, to affirm the feelings inside, but your voice breaks. “Yes,” you say, your voice watery and cracking. You nod frantically and he takes the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger. He stands and you immediately take his face in your hands, kissing him desperately and happily. You giggle into the kiss, and the men and their dates behind him break into whoops and cheers. You laugh as you break away, forehead falling to Frankie’s tuxedoed chest, before looking up through watery eyes and holding up your hand excitedly. Everyone cheers again and you laugh again too, hugging him tight. “Frankie,” you coo lovingly as you break from his chest and look up at him. “This is our senior prom. We’re just kids,” you joke. “You really want to marry me this young?”

That earns a belly laugh from him, shaking his head. “Shut up,” he teases back, spotting Luna’s excited bouncing. “Come here, Thumper,” he calls and waves her over. You both squat down and beckon her over, and she once again zooms into both of your arms.

“Mama and daddy getting married,” she squeals in her little baby voice and it melts your heart, her tone filled with contentment. You nod and squeeze her and her father tighter.

“We sure are, kid,” you laugh and stroke her head. “You’re gonna be my flower-girl-of-honor, right?” You ask and pull away from the hug. She nods excitedly. 

“Flower-girl-of-honor?” Frankie asks and tilts his head.

“Well, she can’t just be my flower girl, Frankie,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s my daughter, right?” you ask her, earning a happy nod. She agreed.

Later, Frankie’s mom indeed came and picked up her granddaughter, absolutely beaming and telling you that she was glad her son finally got the balls to propose. You had both laughed at that, thanked her once again for watching Luna for the night, and returned to the dance floor.

The party seemed to last all night, you and your new fiancé and the rest of the attendees having the time of your lives. “Well, this is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” you tease, grinning up at Frankie as the two of you slow dance. He just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and singing along to the words of the music playing. “Oh my god, it was a prom-posal,” you gasp as the pun hits you. “Jesus, why did I do that?” he groans sarcastically. “That pun is gonna haunt me the rest of my life now.” “Just like I am,” you sing happily, grinning so wide your nose scrunches. He laughs and shakes his head at that, but pulls you closer into his chest. “You just made a promise you’re not gonna wanna follow through on, Catfish,” you tease. “I’m gonna make your life so miserable.”

Frankie sighs at your sarcasm but smiles contently as he looks down at you. “I don’t think you could if you tried, hermosa,” he tells you before bringing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. 

[babiesdreams]

The mirror +18 Doyoung Hogwarts au Part 2 This 2 fics are important. Really, read them if you wanna keep up w/ everything

Part 1 is in here (For context). Alsooo, as I said in the first part, I do not stand by what the Harry Potter creator says/thinks about the trans community. Don’t hate on trans people, trans lives matter.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: sexual content, fem1 reader

It’s been weeks and you were really dying to know what Doyoung saw on the reflection of the mirror, but he always refuses to tell you. At this point you really believe it must be something really embarrassing, since he wasn’t talking about it. 

Your best friend, Donghyuck, has been telling you how you shouldn’t trust him. The Gryffindor boy always hated on Slytherins and Doyoung always got on his nerves. The two of them were constantly fighting about completely unimportant things. 

“I’m sure he saw your dead body” Haechan says with a creepy tone.  “For god’s sake Donghyuck, he’s not the devil. He’s just a student” He chuckles “You know who else was just a student. Yes, you got it. Tom Riddle” He says in an ironic tone that really gets on your nerves. “He doesn’t want me dead okay?” You say angrily.

“Who wants you dead?” Doyoung says from behind of you. “What did you see in the mirror?” Haechan says getting closer to him, trying to intimidate him, but Doyoung’s eyes are only looking at you with a serious yet hurted expression. “You told him?” He says slowly. “I-I didn’t mean to-” You stutter, trying to explain yourself but he just furrows his brows and walks away, completely furious. 

“Fight me you stupid” Haechan shouts at him but he doesn’t seem to care as much, his body turns back, looking at the Gryffindor boy and he simply says “Aqua eructo” Pointing his wand at the boy. Inmediately a jet of water emerges from the tip of his wand, wettening Haechan’s body.

“See? The devil” Haechan whispers once he’s gone. You hit his arm, completely mad at him, but also wasn’t all the fault on yours? Weren’t you the one who told him about that personal and intimate moment?

“I gotta go” You say, holding tears from falling down your cheeks. You get to the girls bathroom, to hide from everyone around. Your tears quickly start floading, in between loud whines. Moaning myrtle’s ghost starts talking to you instantly almost like tears and cries called her soul everytime.

“Who made you this sad?” She coos at you. You look at her, kind of disgusted, knowing how annoying she could get sometimes. “I don’t wanna talk” You simply whisper. “It was a boy right? Boys are so cruel” She says crying out loud. You look at her fiercely and shout “GO” 

She shakes at the fierce and scary reaction. “Leave me alone” You scream at her. She ends up leaving with loud cries that get to your mind, making it hurt like crazy. Gosh you hated that annoying ghost.

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

You’ve been trying to apologize to Doyoung for weeks in different ways, but he always found a way out, not even wanting to look into your eyes. So you decided to go with the harsh way. “Petrificus totalus” You say pointing at Doyoung’s figure. 

His body petrifies under the effect of the spell. His expression turns into an angry one before it gets frozen. His body surprisingly mantains the balance, which is rare on victims under this spell.

You start off explaining yourself. “I wasn’t conscious of how much that moment meant for you. I really thought you would talk about it with your friends too. I just... He’s my bestfriend, and I know he can get really annoying sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He was just scared, since you were a Slytherin, and he doesn’t really trusts Slytherins... I’m so sorry Doyoung. I should hae never done that, or even pressure you to tell me. I just don’t wanna lose you. I have been so afraid of losing you this past weeks. I had to petrify you so that you would listen” You say, as tears start appearing in your shiny eyes.

“I love you Doyoung. And It fucking hurts okay? I don’t know what to say or do to make you stay. But if I can do something, anything, please tell me... I really can’t imagine my life without you” You cry out, looking at his petrified angry expression. “Renervate” You finally say pointing at him with your wand. His body slowly returns to its natural form. 

His expression in no longer angry but sad. “You can do whatever you want. I just wanted to tell you” You say as you turn your back to him, wanting y¡to leave the room. Now filled with embarrasing moments for you. “I wasn’t mad” He says, stopping your steps. “I was just hurted. But you couldn’t know why. You don’t know what I saw” He explains.

But your tears don’t stop falling, His words wouldn’t stop your mind from blaming your actions. It wasn’t your fault? Yeah sure. You couldn’t know? Why would that even matter? You revealed an intimate moment between you two without his consent.

“Are you listening?” The boy says worriedly. “You deserve to be mad at me” You say controlling the tone of your breathy voice. “I’m not mad” He shouts “I don’t care” You answer, also screaming. “You should be mad. You should be hating me. Why aren’t you?” You shout at him and he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Because I love you”

His words replay in your mind, like something that you needed to hear, yet you were to scared about. “You want to know what I saw in the mirror?” He says, almost tearing up, but you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter anymore” you whisper as your lips get closer to his. Your lips collide together in a explosion of feelings.

“I missed you” He says under his breath. “Me too” You simply reply.

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

It’s been a couple of hours since Doyoung forgave you and your heart was already fluttering around. His arm pulls you into a room, an empty room, and instantly everything that happened that night replays on your head.

Doyoung’s lips are leaving wet marks on your neck, making your body shake due to the pleassure. “Let’s take it slow this time” You whisper at him and he nods. His black hair really looks great with the rooms lighting. His dark chocolate eyes are fixed on your lips, your soft and moist lips. 

His thumb caress it softly as if redrawing them. They tear apart slightly, leaving a gap in between your top and your bottom lip. “You look perfect” He says looking directly at your lips. “Stay by my side” He whispers in your ear and you simply nod.

His thumb slowly enters your mouth, getting wet with your saliva as it does. He’s completely focused on fucking your mouth with his fingers in a very sexual way that he forgets about everything else. Your mind is also focused on the slow movements of his finger passing through your wet lips over and over again. Your tongue moves slowly, caressing the tip of his finger as he keeps inserting it in.

You swear you could just have  cum right there by the mere actions of a finger in your mouth, which was quite embarrassing. The way he moves tho... He doesn’t need a spell to control you, his words are more than enough. His free hand finally travels along your curves, The way his fingertips brush your skin makes you shake slightly, in anticipation.

He reaches your cunt, drawing a straight line through your clothed folds. His thumb is fully inside of your mouth, not moving now. His lips get close to your neck, pressing a soft kiss on it “I love you” He whispers against your skin before his tongue licks it off slowly. “I fucking love you” He repeats and you can’t contain yourself from humming against his thumb.

He chuckles, knowing exactly what you wanted to say, and keeps going. His tongue getting dangerously close to your breasts. Your hands fastly remove your clothes from his way, wearing only your underwear now. “Good girl” He growls against your collarbone. He licks his way down until he reaches the limit of your bra. 

As if reading his mind you unclip it, letting it fall down right after. His lips trap your left nipples, sucking it in slowly. His teeth slightly caress your skin as he dows, making you gasp. His lips slowly get away from your chest, making your nipple slide out. He then straight up bites the sensitive skin. His teeth are gentle tho, only making you feel a slight hint of pain in between all the pleasure.

His hand is still on your cunt, drawing circles around your clothed clit, making your panties completely wet and uncomfortable to wear. If his thumb wasn’t on your mouth you’ll be moaning out loud, letting the whole school know just how good he’s fucking you. But instead you’re only able to hum around his wet digit.

His fingers slide your panties down, letting them fall to the ground, the sensation of the cold air and the relief of not having a wet spot brushing your cunt is absolutely perfect. You don’t have much time to think about it tho, because his fingers quickly enter your dripping wet pussy, slowly yet deeply.

You wanna scream his name so that he knows just how much you’re enjoying it, but it doesn’t seem to be needed by him. He can tell just how much you’re enjoying it purely based on the wet fluids coming out of your cunt. 

His mouth finally atacks the other nipple, that was completely abandoned. His lips repeat the actions he previously did with your other nipple. You let out a whimp around his thumb, which he gets out of your mouth, leaving a wet trail of saliva connecting his digit to your lips. It’s a split second though, just before he gets his index and middle finger inside, filling your mouth again.

You hum in protest but he doesn’t really listen. His fingers get faster inside of you, curving themselves as they do, instantly making your body shake out of pleassure. His actions come to a stop shortly after as his fingers slowly pull out of you, making some of your juices fall to the ground from his fingers.

His fingers get out of your mouth as well. “On four” He simply orders, and eventhough you wanna protest you simply obligue, getting on the said position fastly. He’s busy removing his clothes, on your back. “I love you too Doyoung” You are finally able to reply as he gets undressed. The boy chuckles at your cute confession.

“I know baby” He says kneeling down and inserting his tip in you. You whimper loudly and he sighs. “You have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get us expelled” He says and you nod as if understanding, but deep down you know you will not be able to control sounds from coming out of your mouth.

He puts his hand on your mouth making your body follow his arm. Your back touches his chest slightly getting the boy’s sweat on you. His dick gets inside of you fully as you do. His hips move fast as if he had been retraining them all this time. “Have I ever told you how good you look like this?” You shake your head and he smirks. 

“You look perfect like this, when I fuck you” He whispers in your ear, leaving goosebumps all over your body. And it’s true, the way the lights reflect on your body, as it shakes, covered by shiny sweat is really a mesmerzing view. “Now you are gonna cum for me as I do okay?” He says softly and you nod, already feeling a wave of arousal coming.

Your body shakes when you feel his hot cum filling you out. “Fuck” You whisper loudly once he removes his hand from your mouth. He pulls out of you, letting his cum fall to the ground and he sits down, catching his breath back in.

“I need to tell you” He says in between heavy breathes. “About the mirror” He starts saying with a shaky voice, but his figure starts dissapearing without he even noticing. You gasp in surprise, not knowing what was happening. “I saw” His breathy voice says just before his whole body vanishes away.

You’re really shocked, not knowing what to say or do or think. You never saw this kind of magic before and he for sure wasn’t controlling it. Your eyes keep looking at the spot where his body used to be, thinking to yourself if all of this had been just your pure imagination tricking your brain. 

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

To be continued.

Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

[li-karina]

The Girl in the Bakery (Part 1)

It was another one of those days where Adrien Agreste just wanted to be someone else. Even with the glamorous lifestyle that came with his last name, there wasn’t anything that could outweigh Adrien’s craving of freedom. His entire life had been presented to him on a silver platter, except for the fateful day he received a black and red box. With Chat Noir, his superhero alter-ego, nothing stood in the way of being able to go wherever he wanted.

Maybe with the exception of Ladybug—not that he minded the hold that his partner-in-crime had on him. It was hard not to follow Ladybug anywhere she went, as her confident energy and natural leadership made her addicting to be around. 

She truly was the perfect woman in Adrien’s eyes. Beautiful, courageous, selfless, determined, yet stubborn, strict, and utterly irresistible. Ladybug was also a good kisser, not that Adrien would remember. The heroine in red had completely captured the heart of Paris, as well as her second in command. 

Rarely had Adrien been let out of the prison he called his home; however, with the powers of his miraculous, it was easy for him to escape out his window and into the world. He didn’t enjoy having to transform anytime he wanted fresh air, but it was the only way he wasn’t followed by his bodyguard or his father’s assistant, Nathalie. All he had to do was leave the record player on, echoing out the sound of Chopin or Beethoven, and he would get away with a few hours of free time. 

Usually, once Chat Noir’s feet hit the concrete of a deserted alleyway, he would turn back into Adrien and carry on his merry way--maybe take a walk through the park, get some ice cream, and avoid paparazzi as much as he could. But on this particular day, his leather suited counterpart seemed more appealing. Perhaps he was hoping to catch Ladybug on a daytime patrol or wanted to scale the Eiffel Tower, but something about staying Chat Noir just felt right.

He launched himself from roof to roof, occasionally waving at those who spotted him. His black ensemble made it harder for him to be seen due to the sky growing dark, but his green eyes and small yelps of joy made it very obvious to citizens which hero was out. Perched on the Louvre, Chat Noir hummed softly to himself. “Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady…”

“Chaton?” a voice spoke, ringing into the air with a sweet tone. Chat’s eyes darted up, settling on the blue eyed beauty standing behind him. A genuine grin stretched across his face, before replacing it with a smirk. Standing up quickly, Chat’s hand engulfed Ladybug’s and he pressed his lips to her knuckles in a playful kiss.

“Good evening Bugaboo,” Chat said, bowing slightly in a joking manner. “Nice of you to join me on this beautiful night.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes before taking a seat and gesturing for Chat to sit back down next to her. “It’s nice to see you too, kitty. But I can’t stay for long.”

Chat Noir’s smile fell before plopping himself next to his lady and clearing his throat. “Are you busy tonight?” he asked, realizing the disappointment in his voice. “Not that I can’t handle patrol by myself! And if there’s something you need to do, you can totally go do that.”

A light-hearted giggled escaped Ladybug’s mouth. “As much as I appreciate your concern, you know I can’t tell you to pro-”

“-tect our identities. I know. But you know that I care about you even without the mask. Whoever’s behind there, I still lo-” he cut himself off. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s not the end of the world if I know one detail about you. The real you.”

Ladybug stared at Chat for a few silent seconds, her lips pressed together in contemplation. She sighed, choosing her words carefully. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, something about his tone made her give in. “You know the bakery over on 12 Rue Gotlib?”

Chat nodded. His mom used to love their stuff. It was a rare treat he received, usually after more draining photoshoots, coming home to a box of chocolate croissants from Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. After his mother’s passing, he hadn’t even thought of the small business. A sudden craving for sweets came over him.

“Well, sometimes I help out over there. I’m not an employee or anything, but the owners let me take care of the smaller tasks. Like delivering cakes or working the register,” she said, her voice turning less professional and more care-free. A soft expression blossomed on her face, making Chat’s heart melt. 

Finally. He knew something about the woman he was so helplessly in love with. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was enough. Chat smiled. “Thank you for telling me. You can go if you need. I can handle it if Mr.Pigeon gets akumatized again.”

Ladybug laughed. He loved her laugh. “See you later kitty! Bug out!” And then she was gone.

Chat found himself staring after her with a lovesick smile. “Bye m’lady.” 

Clearing his throat, Chat turned around and once again started jumping from roof to roof. Landing on top of his own manor, he was about to swing back into his room, but a sudden hunger stopped him. He knew Nathalie would call him to supper soon, but if he was going to end up eating alone, he was at least going to eat something he wanted. 

Not that he disliked the meals provided to him by his chef, but the diets and cleanses got a little overwhelming at times. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the taste of a certain flaky, delicious pastry. 

Before he could even process what he was doing, Chat felt himself making his way to 12 Rue Gotlib. Staring at the lit up windows and catching a whiff of the sweet aroma, he suddenly dropped down and was standing in front of the cute building. Peeking inside through the glass door, Chat caught a glimpse of a girl sitting at the counter, idly doodling in a notebook. 

Something about her--her eyes, her dreamy intensity she had aimed at whatever she was drawing, or the way she looked like she needed someone to talk to-- drew him in. Chat’s breath got caught in his throat as she glanced up, causing him to dart into the dark shadows beside the building. He thought for a moment.

“Plagg, claws in.”

The small kwami that was just in his ring shot out. “Adrien? What are you doing?” 

“I just wanted to go in for something to eat. I promise I’ll be quick,” Adrien entreated, looking at his supernatural friend with pleading eyes.

Plagg sighed. “Fine. But once we get home, I want cheese,” he said before going to hide in Adrien’s overshirt.

Adrien took a deep breath and smiled--and in he went. 

The girl in the bakery looked up from her notebook, immediately closing the book in front of her and smiling politely. “Hi! How can I help you?” Her voice was as sweet as the atmosphere around them. The way her eyes sparkled made it impossible to look away. She was gorgeous.

Adrien smiled back at her, taking extra careful steps. She looked so delicate that the blond couldn’t help but put extra effort into being as gentle with every movement. “Hello,” he finally said. His tone was soft, and made his voice sound more silky.

Adrien’s eyes wandered around the small bakery, everything looking delectable. His mouth watered with every new item he noticed.Then he saw the chocolate croissants. His finger pressed against the glass directly in front of them. “Two please.”

The girl nodded. She grabbed a box and a bag and began packing Adrien’s order. Meanwhile, Adrien racked his brain trying to think of something to say. But before he could even come up with a coherent thought, the girl was already handing him the bag. “It’s on me. You look like you’ve had a rough day. I hope it gets better.”

Adrien stared wordlessly at her. “Oh, thank you. I just haven’t been here in years, so it’s a little strange being back.”

The girl hummed in response before speaking. “Why’d you stop coming?”

“My mom died.”

Adrien mentally slapped himself in the face. The slightly taken back expression on the girl made him feel even worse.

But then she returned to the kind smile she had before. “I’m sorry for your loss. Feel free to come in anytime, okay? I’ll have a warm croissant ready for you every time.”

He stared at her. “I...never got your name.”

“Marinette. Yours?” She looked back at him expectedly.

“Adrien. Adrien Agreste,” he replied a smile finally painting itself back on his face. 

“Adrien? Like from that one ad?” she asked, giggling.

Adrien laughed along with her. “Yeah, exactly like the one from the ad.”

Then a woman walked in from the other room, looking like an older version of Marinette. Probably her mother, Adrien thought.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Adrien. Hopefully I’ll see you again, goodnight.” Marinette waved, before disappearing behind the wall guarding what seemed to be the kitchen. Adrien waved back, not that she could see him do so. Without another word, Adrien left.

He walked back to his home while the sun set behind him. Plagg floated alongside his companion with a knowing smile. He knew who Adrien just met, and it killed Plag that he couldn’t tell anyone.

 It was maybe 7 P.M. and Adrien knew someone would probably check on him soon. The bag of boxed croissants hung around his wrist, tempting him to eat one right there. But he waited.

“Plagg, claws out.” 

The small black cat had a look of dread before he was sucked back into the silver ring. Once Adrien was back as Chat noir, he jumped to his room just in time to hear a knock on his bedroom door. “Adrien? Time for dinner.”

“I’ll be right out!” he yelled before transforming back and heaving out a held breath. The croissants were set on his desk and he readjusted himself. Plagg flew out, his intentioned set on the mini-fridge filled with camembert.

Well he’s all set, Adrien thought as he opened his door and started downstairs. His thoughts were filled with celebrations. Today was a good day.

(Quick Author’s Note: Hi! Okay, this took me hours to write but I think I;m okay with it. Sorry for no Marichat in this part, but I wanted to set up a relationship between Marinette and Adrien first so he has a reason to visit her in the first place. Hope you enjoyed!)

[away-from-anthills]

chapter two-

(prologue) (chapter one)

“Let all cats, old enough to catch their own prey…”

“Already?” muttered Stoatslink. A dash of doubt sat behind the white tom’s yellow eyes. “It’s been almost too soon for Shalestar to make a decision…”

Stoatslink’s tone stuck on Antstep like a burr. Had it been too soon? No- Shalestar had to know what he was doing. Antstep knew of Shalestar’s wisdom more than he knew of his own nest.

“Who do you think it’s going to be?” Russetfoot padded up next to him, his red tabby shoulder touching Antstep’s solid dark brown one. “I’d bet on Shadeflower, personally-“ -he beckoned with his tail to the dark gray tabby molly that sat at the edge of the nursery- “-but I think my brother could do a good job. My mate, too- but she wouldn’t want to follow her brother’s footsteps.”

Stripedwing and Rainleap had been close as kits, but had naturally drifted apart over time. She wanted to be a tunneler, and lacked ambition; he wanted to be a moor runner, and had had his sights on leadership since apprenticeship. There were no hard feelings between either of them- and Antstep recalled a dawn patrol not long ago where Rainleap said he intended to share tongues with his sister more.

Antstep had felt an envy towards Rainleap then. Rainleap, at least, had a sibling. Antstep had none.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Antstep realized Russetfoot was waiting on an answer from him. “So? What do you think? Did Shalestar tell you anything when he asked for you?”

“I- uh-“ Antstep tried to stall the conversation- but thankfully, Shalestar was already about to begin, and Russetfoot’s eyes had left Antstep to focus on the old scarred blue-gray tom.

“I realize it has been only a short while since I announced the loss of Rainleap to the Clan. However, we must follow the Warrior Code- even in unprecedented situations like this. I promised a new deputy by moonhigh, and my Clan shall get one. I have come to the conclusion of which WindClan member shall become your next deputy. I ask only that you be kind to him. He may not be an obvious choice, but with a bit of experience as deputy, he will learn quickly.”

It felt as all the Clan were eyeing each other. Half of Antstep wanted to puff out his chest with pride. The other half, meanwhile, wanted to shrink inwards and disappear.

“I say these words now, before StarClan, so our ancestors- Rainleap among them, now- may hear and approve of my choice. The new deputy of WindClan… is Antstep.”

There was a silence of deliberation for a moment, and then a gasp or two. Molethroat and Cherrycloud, who were near the back of the sandy hollow by the nursery, seemed to approve. Rockscratch and Russetfoot seemed to be in what Antstep could only assume was awe. He had never felt what it was like to cause awe before.

But there was a tense feeling among some of the others. Talonscar, their eyes still dimmed from mourning their former apprentice, sat in silence, shifting their weight from one paw to another. Sandwhisker looked pleased, but even she seemed to have some doubt about Shalestar’s choice, despite being particularly close to him. Antstep flattened his ears against his chestnut-colored fur as he scaled the rock to stand besides his leader.

“Again, I know he is perhaps not what you expected. But I mentored him myself, and it was I who brought him to WindClan when he was but a kit. I feel like I know Antstep particularly well- he reminds me of myself, when I was about his age. And I was about his age when Marigoldstar elected me as deputy, back before many of you were even born. It may take him a while to learn the ropes as deputy- but when he gets the hang of it, I promise you, he shall be a great deputy- and, perhaps… a great leader, once I pass on.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Antstep felt his spine coil. That sharp voice belonged to only one cat in the Clan- Sparkthistle. The ginger molly, with bright stripes and a snout that turned slightly upwards, pushed her way to the front of the hollow. “You’re telling us, Shalestar, that you’re replacing Rainleap with this sad sack? He’s not even a proper WindClan cat! He’s just your pet project! There’re so many cats in this Clan- and you choose that excuse of a warrior? He can’t even manage his own apprentice, let alone-“

“Sparkthistle, I am your leader,” Shalestar commanded, a fleck of anger on his tongue. “If you have any complaints, you can talk to me or Whitetooth in the morning.”

Sparkthistle opened her mouth as if she had something more to say- but, she began to flounder, and the shrewish molly backed away into the crowd. Cherrycloud rather embarrassed on Sparkthistle’s behalf, slinking back into the nursery den with Molethroat beside her.

“Meeting dismissed. Webwhisker, Stoatslink, remember it is your duty to keep guard over the camp tonight.”

As WindClan retreated to their dens, and Webwhisker and Stoatslink climbed the walls of the sandy hollow to assume the night watch, the coiled nervousness in Antstep’s belly began to loosen. He left the Tallrock and flexed his claws into the sand below. The moon- which was at the very center of the sky- looked downward upon him, and the hollow was filled with a certain stillness. The cicadas and crickets sang in the distance, and a curious hope began to flow through Antstep’s veins as his amber eyes locked with the moon’s pale one.

I’m WindClan deputy now… it’s my chance! They’re going to finally love me! I’m going to be the best deputy I can be…

It dawned on Antstep that he was not the only one there. He turned to see Whitetooth. The WindClan medicine cat seemed as if they were still analyzing him. They were nearly all white- the color of slightly stale milk- except for their ears, a spot or two on their back, and their tail, which was plumy and brown like a female pheasant.

“I look forward to our partnership and- if you’ll allow me to say it- friendship, Antstep,” they said simply. “As deputy and medicine cat. If you ever need anything- all you have to do is ask.”

Antstep nodded. Even the medicine cat wants to be my friend!

As Whitetooth slunk into their medicine den, where Marblepaw was already fast asleep, Antstep contemplated. He climbed the edge of the sandy hollow- away from Webwhisker and Stoatslink’s positions- and looked towards the east, where the sun would rise and where the marigolds grew.

 As sunlight crept into the clearing the next day, Antstep immediately began to try and plot out what his first patrol would be. This was, after all, one of the most important deputy duties. He had to get it just right. Suddenly, the confidence he had had earlier dissipated. What will the Clan think of me if I’m not able to plan this out right? They already hate me, don’t they…

“Well, you may be a good hunter- but I’m far better!”

“You’re not!” “Am too!”

There was a squeal as Twigpaw, in the heat of this little spat, launched himself onto Spiderpaw, grabbing onto her shoulder. However, she was too quick. The dark gray tabby molly shook herself, and Twigpaw let go as soon as he had latched on. She then jumped over and pinned the smaller brown tabby tom onto the sandy earth. As he grunted and tried to free himself, she stood triumphantly.

“Spiderpaw, let him go,” Antstep instructed. She gave it a moment of thought, and- after pushing down on Twigpaw for a moment- let him go. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Well, just remember, Twigpaw- my mom’s the leading queen and my mentor’s the deputy.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” warned Antstep, curling his paw around her feet to make sure she didn’t jump back out at him. “If I mess up too bad, you wouldn’t want to even look at me, now, would you?”

“Depends,” she said slyly, her lips curled upward like the biting adder. “But it means I have two on Twigpaw.” She grinned. “Hey, maybe when you’re leader, you could make my mom Shadeflower your deputy! Then Twigpaw won’t even be able to lay a paw on me.”

“Don’t get too ahead of me,” said Antstep. “It’s my first day. …Say, would you like to go on the dawn patrol this morning? You haven’t been out on it in a while.”

Spiderpaw nodded enthusiastically. Antstep felt proud of himself- but then the worries began to nip at his paws again. There’s no way that’s going to work! They’ll all think I’m favoring my own apprentice over the others! What other apprentices are there… Goldenpaw was on patrol just yesterday… Maybe Milkpaw or Coalpaw?...

“You’re up early,” yawned a sleek blue-gray tom. His shadow was identical to Shalestar’s; however, he was a tad shorter and far younger. A white bib-shaped marking covered his chin and chest.

“Oh. Hello, Toadpool,” said Antstep, nodding to acknowledge the blue-and-white cat’s presence.

“I think you’re going to do just fine as deputy.”

“Wh- what makes you say that?” said Antstep. Was his anxiousness that obvious already?

“Deputy jitters,” explained Toadpool, shrugging. “Everyone gets it. Even Grandpa told me that he had them. You’ll do just fine- I trust his choices, after all.”

Toadpool was right. Shalestar had a good head on his shoulders, and neither of them had a reason to doubt him.

“I’m trying to figure out the dawn patrol,” explained Antstep. “I was thinking Spiderpaw and your apprentice Milkpaw could take it this morning. Would you- uh- like to come along?”

“Sure! But you don’t have to ask, you know. Deputies usually just kind of say who’s going on patrol or not.”

Right. Antstep already felt hot embarrassment on his face.

“I have an idea. I can come with you and try to calm your nerves a bit. We can bring our apprentices, too. Maybe you could also take Rockscratch and Sparkthistle? I know you don’t like Sparkthistle and she doesn’t like you, but maybe you could talk it out…”

It was a naïve suggestion. But Antstep didn’t have the heart to tell Toadpool that.

“Sure.”

“Great! I know Grandpa will give you some tips and stuff, but I can tell you if there’s anything I know. And we can train our apprentices together.” He looked over to where Spiderpaw was- she was busy chasing down a centipede that had weaseled its way into the den. “Be careful of her,” he joked. “She’ll eat you alive.”

“Takes a brave one to be her mentor,” Antstep joked back, puffing out his chest with pride.

 The sun’s lazy red eye began to peer over the earth, and Antstep’s first patrol slithered through the WindClan grass. It was a quiet morning, and the world seemed as though part of it had stood completely still since Rainleap’s death. Dew stuck to their pelts as they schlepped themselves along the trail.

“If Rainleap were here…” said Sparkthistle in the back of the small group, muttering something off-key to herself. Rockscratch, who was just in front of her, distanced himself.

But Antstep tried to keep his worries behind him, crowded around Sparkthistle instead of wandering to his head. It was his first day, after all. Anything could happen. He could worry later, with the comforts of Shalestar and Whitetooth there to listen.

Spiderpaw ran up to him with a fat mole in her mouth. “Look!” she said, in the muffled way cats do when their mouths are crammed full. “Milkpaw showed me how to catch it. You have to feel their tunnels beneath your paws, and you gotta have the right timing. She told me it’s a tunneler skill. Maybe I should show you how, someday…”

Antstep watched Toadpool sign a joke to Milkpaw, who responded with throaty laughter. He didn’t get the punchline- it was something to do with tunneling, which he had never been familiar with- but he began to think. Why hadn’t Shalestar chosen Toadpool? Shalestar was also fairly close to Toadpool, and had watched him grow up in a similar way as he had with Antstep, although the leader had not mentored him. Toadpool even had something Antstep did not: Toadpool was the son of one of Shalestar’s children, who had perished in that forest fire around the time Antstep had been found by a WindClan patrol.

But then it truly sunk into him, as he watched Toadpool and Sparkthistle converse. He was trying to let her on in the joke, but she responded with overdone apathy, flattening her ears tight like they were strapped to her skull to get him to shut up. Toadpool was too ineffective; too naïve. Tatteredstar and Pigeonstar could tear him apart with one word.

He would make for a great friend. Perhaps a deputy- but as a leader? He would fall apart like dried leaves in a fire, up there on that Great Rock.

Antstep knew Shalestar had to have chosen him for a reason.

But he couldn’t think of what that reason was.

 -

The next few days went by with little incident. Patrols were organized; patrols were sent. Occasionally, when he was out with them, Antstep would see the wandering eye of RiverClan or ShadowClan cats, from deep within their own territories.

Did they notice a change?

Could they tell something was different?

Antstep did not know what he wanted the answer to those questions to be.

The camp was quiet. Besides his few friends, Antstep found himself once again a stranger in his own- or was it ever his own?- land. Perhaps the death of Rainleap weighed his Clan down too much still- this is what Antstep wanted to believe. But there was always this great, nagging feeling that sat on Antstep’s haunches- do they like me enough? What if they hate me? What if, on the night I become leader, they’re all going to kill me together? What if-

But Antstep tried to take solace in the fact that Shalestar was always there. Shalestar knew what he was doing. Shalestar would teach him all he needed to know. He’d learn.

It was a briar that shattered that thought.

 It was an overcast day- the kind of overcast where the clouds look like a big, unraveling blanket; the kind of overcast that makes your head feel heavy with the promise of an oncoming storm. Antstep was taking a few of the apprentices out into the heart of the moors to learn some hunting techniques.

“Now, the key to catching a good rabbit is to know what way to chase it,” Antstep said. “Some of you have caught one of them before. And that is very good! But you need to have a plan.”

“You could raid a rabbit nest,” said Spiderpaw, in that sort of smart-alecky way that was practically her second language. “Bunch of little rabbits in there right for the taking.”

“Ah, but what about rabbits who live in burrows? And what about getting the proper taste of grown rabbit meat?” That- and Antstep always felt a bit of pity, raiding nests and newborns like that. He assumed an almost exaggerated posture and tried to project his voice towards them. “What you have to have is a plan. You have to know how to corner it. The rabbit’s always going to run away from you, and it’ll outrun you nearly all of the time. What you have, that the rabbit doesn’t, is strength in numbers. You need to drive it towards your Clanmates and pounce from all sides.“

The apprentices nodded in unison.

“Now- look, there’s one now. All of you, position yourselves here. Crouch down and hold steady. I’m going to chase it here, and when I give the word, leap.”

Antstep hunkered himself down into the grasses and slunk around it in a great circle. The rabbit turned its head, and for a short moment there was stillness between the two. Then it bounded away, slowly gaining momentum as Antstep broke into chase. Faster and faster, becoming rhythmic with the land below and the sky above- until Antstep recognized the shapes of the apprentices ahead, hiding below patches of Queen Anne’s Lace.

“Now!”

Goldenpaw and Twigpaw leapt from one way, and Spiderpaw and Coalpaw from another. Goldenpaw grabbed onto its chest and pulled it to the earth, Twigpaw grabbed its head by the front of its throat and pushed it back as far as he could. Spiderpaw grabbed its midsection, and Coalpaw pinned the legs to the earth to prevent the leporid from kicking further. There was a struggle, there was a finality, and then it was gone, as if the soul had slipped straight out of the meat.

“Very well done! Now, you see how I made sure to go in a big circle around it? That’s so it’s tricked into running this direction. If I went right towards it, it’d run away. If I went at it from the side, it’d run away. I’m going to show all of you how to chase rabbits one by one. Hopefully, we’ll make more successful catches, and we’ll have plenty to restock the fresh-kill pile with by the time we return to camp around sundown.”

He took the corpse of the freshly-killed rabbit with him, straddling it with his front legs, and the group quietly moved to another location a bit north of where they initially where. “Now, be careful,” said Antstep. “There’s a briar patch over there- the rabbit’s going to be smart enough to avoid it, so we must plan around it.” He pointed his tail towards where a big, bracken-colored mass of twisted thorny branches lay. The apprentices nodded- but not without Spiderpaw whispering a joke to Goldenpaw about how likely it’d be that Coalpaw or Twigpaw would get themselves tangled in it.

They can handle it.

There was the sound of a soft crunching of plant stems in the distance.

“There’s another,” said Antstep. “Here. Coalpaw, come with me.”

Coalpaw was bigger and heavier than the other apprentices- a cat built for fights, but not so much the hunt. Antstep figured he could go first, as he might take longer to learn the speed and stealth involved with rabbit-hunting. Antstep hunkered down again, Coalpaw followed, and carefully, slowly, the circled back around to the rabbit. Just like last time, they gave chase, and the two cats started to herd the rabbit. Antstep felt his paws go faster and faster, his muscles slowly easing to let sheer momentum swing his feet, the earth moving below him.

“Now!”

He leapt onto the rabbit, and again the other three apprentices leapt, there was a moment of struggle, a moment of release, and then Twigpaw and Spiderpaw declaring victory.

Antstep felt very, very pleased with himself until he heard a voice behind him.

“Help me! Antstep! Help!” He turned to see Coalpaw. Evidently, during the chase, the young tom had tripped himself on a pebble and sent himself flying into the briar patch, where he lay now. He was not particularly stuck, but Antstep could see he needed someone to pull him out.

“Hold on, Coalpaw, I’m…” He got a good look at the briar patch. The earth below it was lower than the rest of the ground, and there was a definite incline between the two surfaces. If Antstep were to pull out Coalpaw, he’d need to watch his step.

“I’m coming. Here, Goldenpaw, hold onto my back foot.”

He felt Goldenpaw grip his back ankle with her teeth. He grimaced at the feeling for a moment, and then leaned over the edge into the briar patch. He grabbed onto one of Coalpaw’s legs.

“Shut your eyes and make yourself go limp, so the branches don’t scratch as much.”

Coalpaw did so, and then Antstep thrusted him out in one quick motion. But as he did, he felt Goldenpaw suddenly let go of him on accident. Coalpaw managed to scramble out onto the grassy pathway as Antstep plunged into the briar patch backwards and belly-up.

Dammit!

Antstep wriggled himself back and forth to try and get back upright, but the briars further tightened around him. He clenched his teeth, trying to thrash himself free, but he only slunk deeper and deeper into the briar patch. Panic seized him as he watched the apprentices crowd around to watch their own deputy make an absolute fool of himself.

And then, finally, he gave up.

“Twigpaw, can you send for a patrol?”

 “Well, well. Look who got himself stuck,” said a familiar unenthused voice. It was Sparkthistle, accompanied by Webwhisker and Emberheart. “Our own deputy can’t even get himself out of a stack of twigs.” “It’s a bit more than that,” said Webwhisker, cringing with sympathy.

“Here.” Emberheart slowly nosed her way into the briars and grabbed Antstep’s right foot. “Sparkthistle, you get the other one. Webwhisker, help us pull him out.”

Sparkthistle hesitated, and then grabbed Antstep’s left foot. The two mollies yanked him free- Sparkthistle a bit more forceful- and Webwhisker pushed him as soon as they had pried out his torso. Antstep flipped over onto his feet, his head dizzy from having been upside down.

“You’ve got a lot of scratches from it,” said Webwhisker. “You should see Whitetooth, I think.”

“For just that?” snarked Sparkthistle.

“I worry about it getting infected, that’s all.”

“It is rather bad,” Emberheart said as she inspected Antstep’s flank. “He’s lucky his ears and eyes are in one place.”

Great- I’m not even leader yet and I’m already incompetent enough that I nearly lost my eyesight!

“I can continue on with the apprentices,” offered Webwhisker. The two mollies waited to see Antstep’s reaction; he responded with a nod after some contemplation.

And so, Antstep, Sparkthistle, and Emberheart walked back to camp.

 “’Tis not too bad,” said Whitetooth, inspecting Antstep’s myriad of scratches as they wrapped him in cobwebs. “You shall be on your feet within a couple of days. But it is important you rest so infection does not begin. Lie down on the nest Marblepaw prepared for you on the right. Avoid Shalestar, you don’t want him to give you illness.”

“Illness? Shalestar?” Sure, Antstep had noted the leader was a bit slow the past few days, but he hadn’t ever noticed he smelled of sickness. He watched as Marblepaw- a little brown tabby molly, nearly identical to her brother Twigpaw- carefully inspected the sleeping leader, who’s eyes were crusty and who’s fur had became oily from a lack of cleaning himself.

“Mild whitecough, with fever. We have enough tansy for it, but it is worrying given his age. …May I talk to you in private?”

The two cats exited the medicine cat den and sat on the edge of the sandy hollow. Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, speckling the earth.

“…I suspect that Shalestar may not be long for this world. He may leave us sooner than he expected to.”

Antstep felt something inside himself, black and shivering, begin to coil. “You mean-“

“…This is mild whitecough, and it’s wrecked him. If he doesn’t pass of this- something else is going to come along, and it will be far, far worse.”

Antstep felt like he was going to vomit. He couldn’t even match wits with briars- and now, less than a moon since Rainleap died, less than a moon since he had become deputy at all, before he had even attended a Gathering, here he was. It felt as if a great shadow stood over him, one that only he could feel, who bristled the fur on his spine and clamped its paws on his shoulders.

“… What shall we do? I- I can’t be leader now! I barely got to be deputy! What will the Clan think? What will the other leaders think? What if they think I killed him? I can’t have that on my record, I can’t-“

“Calm yourself, Antstep.” Whitetooth’s voice was deep but smooth, like thick greenleaf tree-sap. “Take heart. You are not the first or the last cat to become leader on such short notice, and I am sure the other leaders will understand as will our Clan. Elsewise- I will be here for you. You know me to be very compassionate.”

The first thunders of a storm began to rumble in the distance.

“Please trust me, for the good of the Clan. …Now, rest. If our beloved leader passes within the next few days from this illness, take solace in that you will be there for him.”

Anstep nodded, and as the rain developed into downpour, the two cats headed back inside.

 Shalestar slipped away, later that night, long after all but Whitetooth and Antstep fell asleep; his last words were faint mumblings too obscured by the thunder outside to understand. It was a slow and very peaceful death- the eyes closed, the breathing stopped, the muscles suddenly went limp. Whitetooth placed two leaves over his eyes and positioned the body flat and compact, like he was crouching forever, so when the Clan would visit his body before the burial the next day he would not look too ill. When he died, there was a moment where the clouds unweaved themselves, and a small patch of starlight lit the center of the sandy hollow.

It was over now, and it had begun.

Antstep awoke as Antstar two days afterward.

[earthfire-75]

I don't know what to say about it,

When all you ears have turned away,

But now's the time to look and look again at what you see,

Is that the way it ought to stay?

Kashmir

Chapter Two, Part One:That’s the Way (Sleepwalking)

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music and beta’ed by @lady-jane-revisited )

I woke up the next morning and got out of bed. It was then I realized that I was indeed in a bed, when I had fallen asleep on the couch. Robert must have moved me when he came up to the room. I shook my head and went back out into the main room to get my clothes, quietly and quickly getting dressed. Sure enough, there was Robert in my place on the couch. I took the room key once more and made a dash out to the hall. Unfortunately, I was stopped by Cole.

“Enjoy yourself?” He asked sarcastically. “Honestly, though, I figured you’d be coming out of Jimmy’s room. Since he found you and all. Such disloyalty.”

“Do you actually know what happened last night, or are you just talking out of your ass?”

“I know how things work around here, girl. More than you do. It would have been bad enough if you had been with Jimmy. But Robert? That just looks bad for you. Half the other roadies already think you're getting special treatment just because you’re a girl. Myself included. This? Just reinforces that assumption.”

“I’m sorry, should I have slept out in the hallway? You know what, I don’t have time to stand here and justify to you where I slept last night. I have things to do before I officially start my job this morning. If you’ll excuse me.”

I stepped forward, trying to walk past Cole, but he stuck his arm out to stop me from leaving. Thankfully, before he could say anything further, G came around the corner. Less fortunately, Rogina was right beside him. It seemed they had been talking, but stopped upon seeing the scene in front of them. Rogina came to my side, glaring up at Cole, but it was G who spoke.

“Is there something wrong?”

Cole immediately dropped his arm and straightened his posture. “I was just explaining to the newbie that employees don’t sleep with the band. Even if she is a girl.”

G’s eyes narrowed at Cole. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“And I was explaining that it’s none of his damn business and I got a couple of things to grab from the drug store across the way because I currently have no toiletries or anything to pack my stuff in.”

“You’re right, it isn’t any of his business. That being said, you were supposed to get everything you needed yesterday.”

“I know and that’s on me, but everything was so rushed yesterday. And I know it’s not going to be any less so today.”

G sighs but nods. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you, my dear.”

“You’re just going to let her go?”

“Yes, and if you’re the reason she’s late coming back because you refuse to get out of her way, not only will you be picking up her slack, you can carry her things as well!” G boomed at him.

Rogina piped up beside me, “I’ll go with her, help her get what she needs so it goes faster.”

Cole just threw his hands up and stepped to the side. “Fine!”

Rogina roughly bumped her shoulder into Cole as she walked past him, glaring daggers at him before we headed to the elevator. We were silent for some time as we made our way to the drug store across the street.

Rogina grabbed a shopping basket, “Sorry that you had to go through with that Anj. Cole’s always been fucking prick that loves to cause trouble.” She tossed in hair brush, “If he or anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

I smiled as I added in shampoo and conditioner bottles, “Thank you. I’ll be okay, I can handle him.”

Rogina sighed as she placed a tube of toothpaste in, “Well let me know if he does anything, okay?”

“I will. Come on, we better hurry.”

We had managed to grab what we could during those five minutes. Having her here was great, given the time crunch and that she could help me find the necessary items that I would need, plus a backpack to my belongings. She offered to help pay for some of the items, but I let her know that I could take care of it. Once we were done, we hurried back to the hotel and found everyone in the lobby. G and Bonzo were conversing with Cole, their arms were crossed as they stood before the bearded man.

Robert spotted us and walked over, “There you are, is everything alright?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I just needed to get a few things-”

“No I mean, I heard about what happened this morning. G told me. I’m sorry Anjelika,” he continued.

“Really, I’m okay Robert. Besides he can say and think whatever he wants to,” I assured him. “I doubt he’ll be much of a problem anyway.”

Robert’s eyebrows pulled together, “Even so-”

G’s voice bellowed, “Alright everyone, make sure that you have what you need! It’s time to head out!”

And with that, we all grabbed our stuff and made our way out to the buses.

Robert had been kind enough to already have my things with his, so I was able to quickly transfer it all to the backpack. He mentioned something about needing a bag for my dresses so they wouldn’t get all wrinkled, but I didn’t have time to respond, quickly closing up the backpack and getting on the roadies’ bus. At least the trip to the venue wasn’t all that long.

Once there we got out and started unpacking the equipment to take inside and set up while G took the bands to go talk with the venue owner and crew. The whole process took quite a few hours and we took a break for lunch before resuming. We finished about three hours before the show was to start and slowly, everyone else left the stage.

Alone at last, the other roadies, Cole included, left the stage after everything was set up, I went to pick up the acoustic and sat at one of the stools and began to play. I didn’t know it, but I was being watched by Robert and Jimmy at one side of the stage, Rogina on the other.

“Life detaches

Much less loved

A taste familiar

But watered down

And each day passes

Into the next

Like television

Flickering unseen”

“She sounds so sad,” Robert whispered to Jimmy.

“She sounds…lost,” Jimmy responded thoughtfully. “There’s something else, too. I get shivers whenever I hear her sing.”

“I breathe

But I don't often think about it

Anymore

It's become a habit

Those embers fragment

That fire was

Just a fracture

In the ice“

Bonzo came up behind Robert and Jimmy. “Hey, guys!” Robert and Jimmy shushed Bonzo at the same time.

“Okay…” he responded in a whisper. “But why are we watching Anjelika like a bunch of creeps and whispering about it?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking“

“Because,” Robert whispered sadly, “I don’t think she would keep doing this if she knew she was being watched.”

“She’s turned down every opportunity to play in front of an audience, even as a backup. But, for me, it isn’t just that. I get the feeling she isn’t telling us everything.”

“And poetry

Fills an empty room

With science broken

And confused

And my desire...

Becomes a pacifier

I need to feel

Alive & awake”

“Everyone is allowed some secrets, Jimmy. You, of all people, should understand that,” Bonzo said pointedly.

Jimmy finally looked at Bonzo with a raised eyebrow. “You know something we don’t, don’t you?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking”

“S’pose I do?”

“Care to share with the class?

“Not my story to tell, Jimbo,” Bonzo shrugged .

“Something aging

In the water

In the damage

To my soul

The wishing fire

Is still alive

And I think his heartbeat

Will not die

How can I give

Anymore of my life

Away…”

“Fine, keep her secrets too.” Jimmy walked away.

Robert and Bonzo sigh and shake their heads at their friend. Both of them know that Jimmy won’t let it go so easily. He never did.

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking.”

“I just want her to be ok. No, more than that, really. I just…don’t know what to do.”

From her side of the stage, Rogina finally stepped out of the shadows toward me, a broad smile on her face. “That was beautiful, Anj. Robert’s right, you really should show off your talent.”

I smiled and ducked my head, given that my face was red. She had been nothing but good to me and for some reason, I had a harder time resisting her charms. Not that it was easy resisting Robert’s. Instead of answering her, I started to play again, something that might be more familiar to her. Tom Petty’s Breakdown, even taking on the singer's more southern dialect.

“It's alright if you love me

It's alright if you don't

I'm not afraid of you runnin' away, honey

I get the feeling you won't”

“There is no sense in pretending

Your eyes give you away

Something inside you is feeling like I do

We said all there is to say”

“Baby, breakdown, go ahead and give it to me

Breakdown, honey, take me through the night (baby, baby, breakdown)

Breakdown, now I'm standin' here, can't you see?

Breakdown, it's all right”

“It's all right

It's all right”

The next thing I knew, Rogina sang along with me as well. Her singing started out softly at first until she reached the chorus and her voice came out strong and powerful like a mountain. While I was familiar with Daltrey’s voice, to hear it before me was something else. As we continued, we found ourselves singing in such a lovely harmonious manner that the world around us seemed to have stopped.

The song came to a close, she placed a hand on my shoulder, “You have a great talent Anjelika.”

“Well compared to you, I seem like more of an amateur,” I joked.

“No Anj, your voice is lovely and so is your playing. That song you were singing before, I’ve never heard of it.”

I looked down for a moment, “Oh it’s just a little something that I’ve been working on.” I stood up from the stool and placed the guitar down, “I better get back to work.”

“Anj-”

I had already made my way off the other wing, only to see Robert, Bonzo, and Jimmy there. My face was flushing as I walked past them. I felt like such an idiot! What on earth was I thinking? The show was to start fairly soon and I had a job to complete. The ticks on the clock continued as everything from lighting, technical matters, clothing, and the instruments were put into place. The doors to the stadium opened and the fans made their way inside. The more dedicated fans were attempting to do what they could in order to get as close to the band members as possible. Security was already on the matter and they kept their composure as they desperately hoped to catch a glimpse of their idols.

I walked through the hallway with a black coffee in hand, hearing the echoes of varying conversations going on between roadies. I would offer a smile as I passed by, some would offer one back, others would give me a look of disdain. Cole was within my sights and so I kept my eyes facing forward. I kept my distance from him as I moved out of the way.

Cole blew a cloud of smoke in my direction, “On your way to give ol’ Plant a little ‘warm up session?”

I kept my back to him, “Why don’t you go do that yourself? Since you seem so keen on the idea.”

G walked over, “You two ladies fighting again?”

Cole answered back, “Actually I was just about to check on the boys.”

G raised a brow as he watched him walk away, “How are you doing Anjelika?”

“Well things seem to be going well for my first day.”

“Good. Now since this is your first night, I don’t expect you to know everything that happens. You might feel a little confused about how we do things at first, but you’ll learn pretty quickly.”

I nodded, “So how long do you think tonight’s show will be?”

G took out a cigar and lit it, “I reckon about three and half, four hours tops. I’ll have you out on the wings to help with instruments for right now. I want to see how you do tonight, then I’ll add more duties to your list.”

“Thank you Mr. Grant.”

I felt a gloved hand on my shoulder. Following the black leathered glove, I was greeted with the sight of Alice Cooper wearing a leather ensemble. His eyes and sides of his mouth were marked in his signature look.

“How do I look?” He asked

“Like a freak,” I answered with a smile.

“Why thank you,” he responded kindly with a genuine smile. “See you after the show.”

He and his fellow bandmates excitedly made their way down the hall, ready with their instruments in hand. They greeted the cheering crowd with the first notes and so the first act of the show began.

I gave all the support I could from the sidelines and adjusted guitars, restringing them when needed. His act lasted for a little under an hour and I gave him a hug in congratulations when he came off the stage. The Who were next and as Rogina passed me, I gave her a hug as well and a kiss on the cheek, despite my better judgment. “For luck.” I explained with darkened cheeks when she gave me a questioning look.

“Thank you,” she responded with a smile, then headed out onto the stage to join her bandmates. Halfway through their act, Rogina made some anecdote about life on the road and as a woman in rock music. She mentioned me, though not by name and dedicated the next song to a “special someone”, all the while looking at me and began to play ‘Love Ain't for Keeping’.

When their act was done and Rogina came off the stage, she came up to me and gave me a proper, if chaste, kiss before going back to the changing rooms. Then it was time for Zeppelin, the last act for the night. I hated how heartbroken Robert looked as he walked past me on his way to the stage. I had been so worried about getting my own heart broken…

“Wow, Anj…Rogina too? And poor Robert had no idea, did he?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cole,” I seethed.

“Or wha-“

I was beyond done with the man, if he could be called one, I whirled around and decked him, knocking him to the floor. Standing over him now, I took a fistful of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position and got in his face. “You really need a lesson in minding your own fucking business. Do yourself a favor and keep Rogina’s name out of your mouth and the next time you decide to butt into my life outside of actual work, I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be eating my steel toe boots!” I hadn’t realized it, but my eyes were glowing as I spoke.

I stood back up to find G standing there, but he didn’t say anything to me, just gave me a nod and I went back to doing my job. G had security take Cole to another room to get looked at and bandaged up as his nose was bleeding a little.

I marched into the hallways, grabbed myself a beer, and found an isolated area to sit and cool down. The day hasn’t ended yet and Cole continues to be a nuisance. I had hoped that after today he would have gotten the message. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching and quite frankly I wasn’t in the mood to talk. At this point I didn’t care who came over, I was angry and I needed some time to be alone. Yet my ears perked up when I heard a familiar voice.

“Anjelika,” Rogina softly called. “Are you alright?”

She took a seat next to me, but I scooted away, keeping my eyes on my beer, “I’m fine.”

“I saw what happened from the changing room.”

I uttered under my breath, “So? It’s resolved, let it go.”

[hookingminor]

close quarters (2) - andre burakovsky

a/n: here’s part 2! hope y’all enjoy please leave me a message w your thoughts I love hearing what you guys think

word count: 2,735

one / two / three / four / five

-

Despite his sudden aloofness that past few days, Andre knocked on your door the following Thursday.

“Hi, Andre, did you need something?” You asked curiously. He never bothered you in your room.

“Actually, I had something for you. I know you’re still looking for a place, so I talked to some people and got you a showing for tomorrow at five,” he replied.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you thanked him, “Really, I can find my own place.” Though, you weren’t really sure if that last part was true. It had been a couple weeks, and you were still at a loss.

“It’s no problem,” he said with a blush, “I can send you the address and phone number of the agent later today.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with me? You have to come with me, Andre. I can’t just show up somewhere for an appointment I didn’t make,” you said hurriedly before he left.

“I don’t think—,” he began to say, but you cut him off before he got any further.

“You sent me your schedule, I know you don’t have anything going on,” you said with an accusatory finger to emphasize your point, “You have to come with me.”

Andre opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He knew he’d been caught, and you weren’t taking no for an answer. You raised your eyebrows, putting on a hopeful face as your lips slowly quirked into a smile.

“Great!” You said cheerfully when you knew he wasn’t going to argue, “I’ll be ready to leave at three!”

When you closed the door in front of him, a victorious smile on your face, Andre threw his head back to gaze at the ceiling, cursing himself for not being able to tell you no.

-

You and Andre walked to your showing the next day as it was only fifteen minutes away and the parking in Denver was hell. When you arrived at the opulent building, you stopped in your tracks to berate Andre.

“Who the hell did you call? I can’t afford a place like this,” you said in awe, mouth agape as you stared up at the high rise.

“I may or may not have promised the landlord two years worth of season tickets in exchange for a favor,” he said, chuckling at your stunned expression.

“You really should not have done that,” you said, though the bite in your voice wasn’t as harsh as you intended it to be.

“It’s not a problem. I don’t have any family near me anyway, and I have the tickets to give away,” he said with a shrug.

Andre ushered you through the lobby and up to the seventh floor, apparently he’d been given the entrance code already. You didn’t say anything the entire way, too taken aback by the cleanliness and luxury of the building. You read the signs in the elevator that indicated the floors of a few amenities, pausing when you came across the information for a pool. This had to be way over your budget even with Andre pulling a few strings.

A middle-aged woman greeted you when you stepped out the elevator, tapping away on her phone as she stood outside the door you presumed was the apartment.

“Hi, you must be Andre. I’m Ellen, I’ll be showing you around today,” the woman said, using a key to unlock the door.

You followed her into the entryway, your eyes immediately noting the open concept and large kitchen. Granite covered the countertops, a perfect contrast against the white cabinets.

“As you can see, there’s a lot of natural light that comes from the large windows and balcony, high ceilings in all the rooms, new appliances in the kitchen, bathrooms were redone a year ago,” she listed on, but you were already sold the minute you entered.

“There is a gym on the first floor, each unit comes with its own washer and dryer, pool is on the roof, though it’s only open during the summer,” she continued as you wandered through the living room.

It was much bigger than what you needed but beautiful, nonetheless. Ellen led you to the hallway along with the attached bedrooms.

“This is the master bedroom, ample space for a king-sized bed and plenty of room for clothes and shoes in the walk-in closet,” she described with a chuckle.

“Oh, we’re no—” you started to say, shaking your head at the insinuation of you and Andre being a couple.

“We love it, thank you,” Andre said loudly, drowning out your voice, “Would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

“Of course, I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need me,” Ellen said with her best saleswoman smile. She left the two of you in the room, and you gave Andre a funny look.

“It’s easier if they just assume we’re a couple. Less awkward,” he explained, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. You gave him a smirk that said “sure, I totally believe you” as you allowed yourself to pace across the bedroom.

“So, what do you think?” He asked after a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“It’s perfect. Way out of my price range but perfect,” you replied.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s all handled. I promise it’s within your budget now,” he said.

You stood at the window, overlooking the city and taking in the view. It was the perfect location: only a few blocks away from your new job but still close to the interstate if you needed to go somewhere. There was a grocery store on the corner across the street, and you could see three coffee shops just from your view from the window.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this,” you said sheepishly. You hated owing people, and this felt like one huge favor no matter what Andre said.

“Think of it as a welcome to Denver present,” he said, “So should we go sign the papers now?”

As much as you wanted to say no, to tell him this was too much, the offer was too good to pass up. You weren’t going to find another place like this that you could afford, and Andre had already promised the landlord tickets. It would just be rude to refuse now. At least that’s what you told yourself when Andre led you back out to the kitchen.

“We’ll take it,” Andre announced when you’d joined Ellen back in the kitchen. She set her phone down on the counter when she heard his voice.

“Perfect!” She said joyfully, removing a packet of papers from her purse and setting them on the table, “I have to make a quick call, but let me know if you have any questions.” She pulled out a pen from her purse, handing it to Andre before moving to a different room.

Andre gave the pen to you as you began rifling through the lease. You scanned the apartment rules and contract appendices, noticing the way the monthly rent had been blacked out and replaced with a new price.

“I don’t even want to know what the real rent is,” you chuckled lowly, signing where it indicated.

“I wasn’t going to tell you anyway,” he replied, leaning his elbows on the counter as he watched you read.

You flipped through the rest of the pages, most of the words were a formality and discussed liabilities, not that you intended to break anything. When you had finished filling out the last signature, Ellen appeared back in the kitchen, the same bright smile on her face.

“All finished?” She asked, putting her phone back into her purse. You nodded your head, handing the stack back which she tucked away with her phone.

“You’re going to love this place. It’s very popular with young couples starting out on their own, so you’ll have a lot of neighbors like you,” she said as she escorted you back out of the apartment.

“The least starts on the first, and there is a service elevator just out back that you will be given a key to,” she added finally, locking the door behind you, “If you have any more questions, you can call me any time, or I’m sure you have the landlord’s number.”

It was clear Ellen had another appointment to get to, so you said your goodbyes quickly and left the same way you came.

When the elevator doors shut, Andre turned to give you a big smile.

“Don’t look so smug,” you said with an eye roll, “I’m going to be surrounded by young couples all the time now.”

“Well, you can always just invite me over if you need a fake boyfriend to show off,” he said without hesitation. You widen your eyes in surprise at his proposition, and Andre is quick to backtrack

“I didn’t mean like— I just meant that… If you ever need company…” he stuttered, cheeks heating furiously. You laughed at his uncomfortable shuffling.

“It’s okay, Andre, I know what you meant. And you’re always welcome here, you’re kind of my only friend in Denver anyway,” you chuckled playfully, trying to ease the tension.

The elevator hit the ground floor, and you exited, eager to leave that awkward conversation behind you.

“Back to the apartment, then?” You asked to change the subject as you both stepped out of the building onto the sidewalk.

Andre glanced down to look at you, entranced by the way your eyes glittered in the sunlight. So, he decided to take a risk.

“Actually, do you want to get dinner? I know a good sushi place,” he asked in a hopeful tone, “You know, to celebrate the new apartment and all?”

You didn’t think your mood could've gotten any better, and Andre didn’t think your smile could get any wider, but both of those things happened when he asked you out for dinner.

“I’d love to,” you replied.

Andre walked you throughout downtown Denver to a fancy sushi restaurant that sat on the corner of the street. Despite not making any reservations, you were lucky to see it wasn’t that busy and you were able to easily get a table for two.

He ordered a bottle of wine for the table when the waiter stopped by as you read over the menu.

“Do you want to get some sample platters and just share? That’s what I usually do when I’m with the guys. It’s also the best way to try everything,” Andre asked, pouring out two glasses of wine. You agreed at his suggestion, placing the order when the waiter came back.

“So,” Andre started, bringing the wine glass to his lips to take a sip, “How do you know Taylor and Tom? In all my years in D.C., they never mentioned you.”

“Taylor and I actually met in college, she was the senior assigned to mentor me freshman year. So, we spent a lot of time together. I moved to D.C. after graduation, and she was currently there with Tom so I reconnected with her and that’s how I know them,” you explained, taking your own sip of wine.

Andre nodded his head along with your story, and then he launched into the story about how he met Tom. You knew it was because of hockey, obviously, but he went into more details about their friendship and living situation with Latta.

“I always wondered why you had three ketchup bottles in your fridge,” you chuckled along with his story. You’d only been to Tom’s apartment a handful of times and it was usually because Taylor had to swing by and pick something up but you always found it odd why one household had three bottles of ketchup and absolutely no other food. You just assumed guys were weird and didn’t know any basic cooking skills; it turned out you were not all that wrong.

“Yeah, the domestic skills of the apartment were not very high,” Andre laughed with you.

He asked about your jobs after school and why you moved to Denver, and you asked about his home back in Sweden. Questions turned into recalling childhood memories and other hobbies and interests you had outside of your careers. The sushi came halfway through an anecdote of how Tom broke a hotel TV in Calgary because he was trying to kill a spider.

You continued into a story of how your sister tricked you into walking on a bee’s nest, which resulted in ten different stings and a trip to the hospital. An hour passed and the sushi between you slowly disappeared as you took turns telling stories and taking bites. Soon, the plates were empty, the bottle of wine was finished, and you could feel the waiter hovering near the wall waiting for your signal to deliver the check.

Exiting the restaurant, you stumbled out on the small ledge that dropped down to the sidewalk, your arm instinctively reaching out to grab Andre’s arm for stability. You chuckled when you made contact, clearly a little more tipsy than you originally thought. His hand slid down to your waist, holding tightly until he felt you were steady enough without the support. And even though he removed his arm from your hip, you kept your arms snaked around his as you began walking. Andre didn’t retract his arm or look uncomfortable with your proximity, so you kept it there.

He steered your bodies towards the direction of his apartment, and you knew you were probably a good thirty minutes away. The bubbly atmosphere from the restaurant followed you the entire way back to the apartment, both of you continuing the banter from earlier. It seemed as if the wall that was between you, the one that had you dancing around each other because of the unusual living situation, had been broken down and you were finally past the stage of awkward acquaintances and into the stage of friendship.

Well, you hoped it was at least at the stage of friendship, though you were silently hoping it had progressed past that. You would’ve been blind to have not found Andre attractive, but with his schedule and odd behavior and the fact that you lived together, you decided not to act on it.

But tonight you were feeling like pushing the envelope a little bit further.

The two of you entered the front door of the apartment, and for the first time in nearly two hours, a silence fell between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was clear that your night out was over and the bubble that surrounded your date had popped. Now, you were back into the temporary roommate bubble.

Your hand finally released its grip on his arm when you both reached the kitchen counter. Andre stood between you and the marble countertop, his eyes still twinkling as he gazed into your eyes.

“I had a great time today,” you blushed, “Thank you for dinner… and the apartment.”

Still in a blissed out haze from the date, Andre didn’t think twice about lifting his hand to brush aside a strand of your hair. You leaned slightly into his body as his hand paused to rest behind your ear for a second.

Taking a deep breath, you tilted your head up a couple more inches, hopefully communicating that you wanted him to kiss you.

It was this action that seemed to snap Andre out of his stupor because one second he was moving his finger to lift your chin, and the next second he was dropping his hand and stepping away. He blinked away the lustful mist that clouded his eyes before coughing awkwardly.

“Uh, I have to get to bed,” he said, taking a few more steps out of your reach, “Practice in the morning.”

“Oh, okay,” you said dejectedly, your lips turning into a frown. Were you reading the situation wrong? You could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way you were.

“Yeah, uh, goodnight,” Andre mumbled, turning on his heels before speed walking to his room.

The air around you felt awkward for the first time that entire night. You were bouncing off each other the entire night, why was he closing himself off now? Your brows furrowed in confusion as you took a few seconds to process Andre’s suddenly bizarre behavior.

What the hell just happened?