#sugar n spice diner

[shutterandpencil]

“Sugar ‘n’ Spice Diner”

Well, I’ve never gone to a diner but Sugar n Spice caught my eye, so that morning, I opted to try them. Couldn’t go wrong with chicken and waffles, certainly.

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 5)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: After a fight with his dad, Rafe makes another mistake that could cost him everything.

Masterlist

Stella spots her dad easily in the crowd of parents and runs toward him. He picks her up, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How was daycare, little witch?” Rafe asks. She moves in his arms to look at him, “Good. It was my turn to feed the fishy today.” For the past few weeks, Rafe has been picking up Stella at daycare and dropping her off at the diner. It was tiring at first to drive back and forward from the Outer Banks to the mainland every day, so he rented an apartment close to Y/N’s house to make the journey shorter. Ward wasn’t too pleased when Rafe started working remotely, but Sarah talked to Ward about it. “That’s sounds fun. Are you still mad at Sabrina?” he asks while buckling the little girl. She finds his eyes through the rearview mirror, “Yes, she stole my boyfriend.” “That’s okay, you’re too young to be dating anyway. Boys are yucky,” he laughs at the pouty face she gives him.

——

Y/N is refilling the sugar container when Rafe walks through the door. Her surprise is written on her face because Stella is at her grandparents’, so he doesn’t need to drop her off this evening. She sets the sugar down, “Hey, is everything okay?” “Yeah, just didn’t really know what to do with my time since I’m not dropping Stella off. I thought I’d keep you company,” he states, sitting down at the counter. She laughs, “I remember the first time my parents took her for the weekend. I had a lot of time on my hands and I didn’t know what to do, so I rearranged my spice cabinet three times.”

“That sounds fun. How did you arrange them?”

“By country of origin, and then by taste, and then by alphabetical order, which is how I already had it. So I’m glad to be your spice cabinet for this evening.” 

Harvey comes out from the kitchen and sees Rafe at the counter, “Hello, Rafe. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” “It’s okay, Harv. I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink. I’ll put in his order in. You can head on your break once you serve your table,” she informs, putting the sugar back under the countertop. Patty receives his order and Y/N heads back out to stay with Rafe. “How has your day been?” she asks, sitting on the stool across from him still behind the counter. He looks up from his phone, “It was a little disappointing. Work was the same as ever and I didn’t get to see my little witch. Seeing you is the best part of my day. How about you?” Her heart flutters and she uses a cough as an excuse to hide the sparkly in her eye. “I like seeing you too,” she says, focusing on the countertop. He gives a little chuckle, “I was asking more about your day, but it’s good to know you appreciate my company.” 

He knows she turned him down for a date and it hurt at the time, but Rafe hasn’t given up hope. She said that she liked him and timing was the only issue. He just has to show her he can stay sober and be in a relationship with her. Her eyes shy away, “Now, I feel stupid. My day was not bad. Business is better than usual, which means more money for me.” “Don’t feel stupid, Buttercup. It’s a simple mistake. I’m glad that business is going well,” he comforts. 

The two engage in smile talk until Patty comes out to give Rafe his food. “Patty,  I could’ve brought out his food,” Y/N protests, moving out of the way so Patty can slide the plate directly in front of him. Patty gives him a warm smile, “I know, but I just love seeing this handsome face.” “Aww, Patty. I love seeing you too. If only I was a few years older,” he plays along. She shakes her head, “If only. I would never dream of taking you for Y/N/N though.” “Patty, he isn’t mine. He is free to do whatever he wants,” Y/N interjects, disappointing Rafe. He turns his attention to Y/N, “There isn’t anyone else that I want other than Stella.” She looks at him with shock, understanding the hidden meaning behind the look in his eyes. “Stella is one lucky daughter,” she states while breaking their eye contact. Harvey calls Y/N over to ask her a question and this ends their conversation. “You love her,” Patty remarks. Rafe nods his head, “I do, but she doesn’t love me.” “Just you wait. She’ll come around. You’re already on the right track. Stella is definitely the way to her heart,” Patty returns to the kitchen. 

——

With Stella away, Y/N decides to give Patty and Harvey the rest of the night off and she would close up shop for the day. What she didn’t anticipate was Rafe staying with her until she closed. He spent eight hours with her at the counter. About three hours in, he commandeered her laptop to keep himself busy as she took care of the customers. He would tell her random facts to catch her attention and tell her a joke to hear her melodic laugh. He would steal glances at her every so often. Unbeknownst to him, she would steal some right back. She told him multiple times that he didn’t need to stay, but he insisted he needed her company to fill the hole of Stella being gone. The last customer leaves the diner and Y/N locks up behind him.

She turns toward Rafe, who still hasn’t left, “Do you want something to eat? You have been here for eight hours.” “I could go for some fries, but only if you eat something too. You haven’t eaten since I got here,” he points out. Right on time, her stomach growls in a long low tone. She didn’t realize she skipped dinner and felt butterflies at the fact that Rafe was keeping an eye on her. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Around fifteen minutes later, she returns with a place full of fries and a burger. She rounds the counter to sit beside Rafe and puts the plate between the two of them. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she questions, pulling her laptop to her to open Disney +.  His hand finds a fry, “Sure.” He lets her pick Ratatouille since it feels like fitting with them being in a restaurant and all. Y/N inspects the fries on the plate and before she can take the fry she decides on, Rafe mindlessly grabs the one she wants. The fry is near his mouth, but she grabs it out of his hand and shoves it in her mouth. “Hey! I was going to eat that, Buttercup,” he complains. She shrugs her shoulders, “I like the crunchy ones, Button. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you have this crunchy goodness.” 

“That’s awfully selfish of you. How are you going to make it up to me?”

The pair had unknowingly gotten closer to each other. Their faces are only about three inches away from each other. His breath finds her lips and it takes everything in him not to bring them to his. She stares into his eyes, trying to figure out what he wants her to say. “Well… I don’t have much, but how about I let Stella sleep over at your place next weekend? Does that make you feel better?” she genuinely offers. Upon seeing she is serious, his face turns to joy, “I would love to have her sleepover. I have to get the spare bedroom ready. Maybe get her a few toys and some-.” “Woah, slow down there, Button. She is only there for a night. You don’t need to do too much for her,” Y/N stops his tangent. 

“I know. I just want her to enjoy her weekend with me so she’ll want to come back. So I can prove that I am a good father.” 

“Rafe, no matter what you do, she will want to be with you. You are her father and that’s all she needs.” 

Her right hand finds the side of his face and she plays with the bottom of his earlobe. He leans into her touch, letting himself be comforted after he is a little vulnerable with her. Her eyes flicker down to his watch and she notices the time. “Damn, it’s late. I should probably start walking back home,” she worries, scrambling off the stool and cleaning up their late-night snack. He looks at his watch, “You are walking home? What happened to your car?” “Joshua asked to borrow it and since Stella is not with me, I said it was fine,” she notes as a matter of fact. He helps her clean up and takes out his car key, “I see. I’ll drive you home then.” “Rafe, you don’t have to. You know it isn’t that far for me to walk,” she tries to refuse. He shakes his head, “Y/N, I’m not letting the mother of my child walk alone close to midnight. So, don’t worry about it and let me drive you.” She stops arguing and gets to work quickly cleaning up.

Once she closes the diner, they walk side by side to his car. He notices the goosebumps running up her arm and shrugs off his grey North Face jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She whispers a thank you. They get into the car and make their way to her house. He walks her to the door with his fingertips itching to touch hers. At the door, they turn to each other, looking into each other’s eyes. He takes a tentative step forward and she doesn’t move back. He is about to take a chance and lean in for a kiss when the door flings open to reveal Benedict.   

“Finally, you’re back. You sure took your sweet time with closing. Hey, Rafe. Y/N, do you have any mayo? I feel like eating just straight-up mayo,” Benny interrupts, walking away from the door to the kitchen. She pulls away from Rafe and follows her brother inside, devastating Rafe. He slowly enters the house after a few seconds to see the siblings bickering about Benny eating only mayo. The domestic sight makes him feel left out, so he bids goodbye to the pair. He is almost to the door when Y/N catches up to him. “Button, wait,” she calls out, gently grabbing his arm above his elbow. “I wanted to say thank you for keeping me company tonight. And for taking me home. I know you didn’t have to stay and that part of the reason you did is because of me. So thank you.” He looks back at her with a soft smile, “No problem. I have to protect the woman I lo- I have to protect the woman who gave birth to my baby girl.” She caught what he was about to say, nails finding their way between her teeth. “Right, well… goodnight,” she mutters, stepping back into her house. He moves back towards the sidewalk, “Goodnight.” Y/N waits for Rafe to be out of sight before closing the door.

——

Rafe opens the door to his apartment to find Ward Cameron waiting with an annoyed look on his face. “What do you want?” Rafe grumbles, leaving the door open and walking away from it. Ward enters the room, “You can’t keep living here. You need to come back to the Outer Banks.” “No, I don’t. I’ve been keeping up with my work and going back when we had a meeting. So I don’t see a problem,” Rafe argues, going to the kitchen to pour himself some water. 

“When are you going to realize that you are just playing pretend? That you are eventually going to get tired of playing family. It’s better you realized that sooner rather than later.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not going to leave my family. You always say that family comes first and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Listen, Rafe. I know you and the only thing that you can stay committed to is coke and the family business. So stop kidding yourself.”

Rafe shakes his head in frustration, “Well, I’ve changed. I want to give my daughter the support you never gave to me but you gave to Sarah.” “When you realize this is all a mistake, don’t come crying to me to fix this problem. I already told you to sign a paper saying you’d only give child support,” Ward warns, heading back out the door. Rafe yells in frustration, throwing a water bottle at the wall. He doesn’t understand the point of his father coming over just to tell him he is going to end up abandoning his family. It drives Rafe crazy that Ward thinks he knows everything about his son when Ward barely takes the time to talk to him. His feelings for his dad come cropping up and he needs something to relieve the stress. 

A knock on the door causes him to stop his tantrum. Shit, he forgot he is supposed to have Stella over for tonight. A second knock comes when he is splashing water on his face to calm down. At the third knock, he opens the door to see an excited Stella and a nervous Y/N. His daughter walks into the apartment as if she lives there while Y/N notices Rafe’s emotion. “Are you okay? She can sleep over next weekend if this is a bad time,” Y/N says. He doesn’t want to talk about it, “I’m fine. She can stay. I could use her company.” She isn’t sure if what he says is the entire truth, but she trusts him to know what he needs and if he needs his daughter, she won’t stop him. “Okay, well call me if you need anything. I’ll be at home all night,” she informs, heading inside to give Stella a kiss before she leaves. Rafe sighs once the door is locked, turning toward his daughter with a fake smile. “What do you want to do, little witch?” She gives him a massive grin and pulls something out from her bag, “Can I practice my face painting on you, Daddy? I can make you into a monster.” “Doesn’t that sound like a great idea? I would love to be your model.”

——

The evening he gets to spend with his daughter is the best he’s ever gotten to spend. They went on a Target run and got a variety of stuff. Toys. Clothes. Food. Board Games. Accessories. Anything she wanted found its way into their cart. He didn’t care about the looks he got for wearing skeleton makeup that Stella put on his face. It may be June, but it is never too early to celebrate the spooky season. They got back home after the shopping spree to make all the food and play all the board games they bought. He had just put her to bed when the bad thoughts started to creep back in. The doubts he is feeling about being a father start to seep through. So far, everything has been great. They always have so much fun. But what happens when the real struggles of parenting start to begin? When Stella won’t simply go to bed because he told her so. When she starts to resist his authority because the newest of having a dad is over. 

His hands are going crazy with fidgeting with his watch. The leg bouncing up and down is the only thing emitting a sound throughout the living room. He goes to call Diana and is sent to voicemail. He wants to call Y/N but thinks twice about it because he doesn’t want to worry her. He knows he shouldn’t but he needs to stop the voices in his head. The DVD case in the TV centre is calling to him. His feet lead him closer to what he shouldn’t be close to. He gets out the case and opens it up to find the little bag of powder. Before this day, he forgot he had stashed it there and that is why he hasn’t got rid of it yet. It’s okay if he has a little bit though, just a little. Maybe if he knows he should control himself, then it will be better than using more. He just needs a little something to stop his brain. 

He forms one line. One line should be enough. The relief he feels, once he snorts the line, begs him to do another. One more couldn’t hurt. He doesn’t realize he has gone through the whole bag until he can’t make any more lines. The energy he feels gets him up and moving. He cleans up the mess they made while cooking and organizes the board games they played. After a while he starts to crash, so he lies down on the couch to try and get some sleep but the coke isn’t letting him. He stares at the ceiling for hours until eventually, the mindlessness of sleep overcomes him, forgetting to clean up the evidence of what he did. 

——

Y/N taps the door as lightly as possible to hopefully not wake up Stella. She wants to help Rafe get breakfast ready for the little girl. The knock goes unanswered, so the next one that comes is a little harder. Rafe opens the door with a confused look that turns to panic when he sees who it is. “Hey, Button. Sorry to wake you up so early. But I thought I could help you make Stells some breakfast. I hope you have some eggs because I was thinking about making some eggs benedict,” she explains, heading toward the kitchen to place down the tote with the food she brought. Rafe scrambles to block her view of his coffee table, “Uh, yeah. The eggs are in the fridge.” He was too late. Her eyes are already narrowed at something in the living room and he knows she saw his last night late activities. 

She heads toward the table to make sure she is actually seeing what she thinks she is seeing. “You relapsed,” she mutters to herself in a calm and worrying tone. Rafe runs to her side, gently turning her to look at him, “Buttercup, I know I did. But I promised it wasn’t that much. I just needed something to stop my thoughts.” Her head starts to shake violently as she yanks her hand out of his hold and walks back slowly toward Stella’s room. The anger she feels is now showing, “If it wasn’t that much, then how come the bag is empty, Rafe? How much was in that bag? HOW MUCH COCAINE DID YOU DO WHILE MY DAUGHTER WAS UNDER YOUR CARE?” The blow comes in twofold. The first, she didn’t call him the playful nickname she always does. The second, she called Stella her daughter instead of theirs. 

“I know I screwed up, Buttercup. But I promise, she wasn’t awake.” 

“You don’t get to call me that right now. I don’t care if she is awake or not. I’m upset at the fact that you did drugs while she was in the house. That she could’ve woken up while you were sleeping and had access to the mess you left. Or worse, you died on the couch because you overdosed. ” 

“Of course, you are allowed to be upset. But it was a mistake. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. Y/N, please.”

“I can’t Rafe. I know that relapsing is sometimes a part of the journey to sobriety and I can forgive that. I can’t forgive putting Stella at risk.”

Y/N walks away in the direction of Stella’s room. All he can do is wait there as he hears the door open. “Stella. Baby, wake up. It’s time to go,” Y/N murmurs, kneeling beside the bed and running her fingers through Stella’s hair. The girl gently stirs, “Why, Mommy? I haven’t had breakfast yet.” “Because, Baby, Daddy needs to go somewhere so we have to go. We can make breakfast at home,” the mother explains, helping her daughter put of the bed. She knows Stella wants to debate more, but isn’t allowed to because Y/N is packing Stella’s stuff as fast as she can. 

Rafe is still standing there when Y/N comes back out with Stella in one arm and the little girl’s bag over the other shoulder. This makes him rush toward her, “Y/N, please. Don’t go. Please.” She ignores him and walks out the door, leaving the food she brought. He can hear Stella demanding to say bye to her Daddy and it rips his heart out as he hears Y/N firmly say no. He slams the door shut, screaming into the oblivion of his pain. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[inbarfink]

List of which songs are included on each Polka under the cut

Polkas on 45: "Jocko Homo" by Devo, "Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple, "Sex (I'm a …)" by Berlin, "Hey Jude" by The Beatles, "L.A. Woman" by the Doors, "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" by Iron Butterfly, "Hey Joe" by Jimi Hendrix, "Burning Down the House" by Talking Heads, "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner, "Every Breath You Take" by The Police, "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by the Clash, "Jumpin' Jack Flash" by the Rolling Stones, "My Generation" by the Who

Hooked on Polkas: "Twelfth Street Rag" by Euday L. Bowman, "State of Shock" by The Jacksons and Mick Jagger, "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top, "What's Love Got to Do with It" by Tina Turner, "Method of Modern Love" by Hall & Oates, "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by Yes, "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister, "99 Luftballons" by Nena, "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins, "The Reflex" by Duran Duran, "Bang Your Head (Metal Health)" by Quiet Riot, "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Polka Party!: "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel, "Sussudio" by Phil Collins, "Party All the Time" by Eddie Murphy, "Say You, Say Me" by Lionel Richie, "Freeway of Love" by Aretha Franklin, "What You Need" by INXS, "Harlem Shuffle" by The Rolling Stones, "Venus" by Bananarama, "Nasty" by Janet Jackson, "Rock Me Amadeus" by Falco, "Shout" by Tears for Fears, "Papa Don't Preach" by Madonna

The Hot Rocks Polka: "It's Only Rock 'n Roll (But I Like It)", "Brown Sugar", "You Can't Always Get What You Want", "Honky Tonk Women", "Under My Thumb", "Ruby Tuesday", "Miss You", "Sympathy for the Devil", "Get Off of My Cloud", "Shattered", "Let's Spend the Night Together", "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" - all by The Rolling Stones

Polka Your Eyes Out: "Cradle of Love" by Billy Idol, "Tom's Diner" by DNA featuring Suzanne Vega, "Love Shack" by the B-52's, "Pump Up the Jam" by Technotronic, "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M., "Unbelievable" by EMF, "Do Me!" by Bell Biv DeVoe, "Enter Sandman" by Metallica, "The Humpty Dance" by Digital Underground, "Cherry Pie" by Warrant, "Miss You Much" by Janet Jackson, "I Touch Myself" by Divinyls, "Dr. Feelgood" by Mötley Crüe, "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice

Bohemian Polka: "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen

The Alternative Polka: "Loser" by Beck, "Sex Type Thing" by Stone Temple Pilots, "All I Wanna Do" by Sheryl Crow, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, "Bang and Blame" by R.E.M., "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morissette, "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by The Smashing Pumpkins, "My Friends" by Red Hot Chili Peppers, "I'll Stick Around" by Foo Fighters, "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden, "Basket Case" by Green Day

Polka Power!: "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, "Flagpole Sitta" by Harvey Danger, "Ghetto Supastar (That Is What You Are)" by Pras featuring Ol' Dirty Bastard and Mýa, "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" by the Backstreet Boys, "Walkin' on the Sun" by Smash Mouth, "Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys, "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba, "Ray of Light" by Madonna, "Push" by Matchbox Twenty, "Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind, "The Dope Show" by Marilyn Manson, "MMMBop" by Hanson, "Sex and Candy" by Marcy Playground, "Closing Time" by Semisonic

Angry White Boy Polka: "Last Resort" by Papa Roach, "Chop Suey!" by System of a Down, "Get Free" by The Vines, "Hate to Say I Told You So" by The Hives, "Fell in Love with a Girl" by The White Stripes, "Last Nite" by The Strokes, "Down with the Sickness" by Disturbed, "Renegades of Funk" by Rage Against the Machine, "My Way" by Limp Bizkit, "Outside" by Staind, "Bawitdaba" by Kid Rock, "Youth of the Nation" by P.O.D., "The Real Slim Shady" by Eminem

Polkarama!: "Chicken Dance" by Werner Thomas, "Let's Get It Started" by Black Eyed Peas, "Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand, "Beverly Hills" by Weezer, "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay, "Float On" by Modest Mouse, "Feel Good Inc." by Gorillaz featuring De La Soul, "Don't Cha" by The Pussycat Dolls featuring Busta Rhymes, "Somebody Told Me" by The Killers, "Slither" by Velvet Revolver, "Candy Shop" by 50 Cent featuring Olivia, "Drop It Like It's Hot" by Snoop Dogg featuring Pharrell Williams, "Pon de Replay" by Rihanna, "Gold Digger" by Kanye West featuring Jamie Foxx

Polka Face: "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga, "Womanizer" by Britney Spears, "Right Round" by Flo Rida ft. Kesha, "Day 'n' Nite" by Kid Cudi, "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum, "Baby" by Justin Bieber ft. Ludacris, "So What" by Pink, "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry, "Fireflies" by Owl City, "Blame It" by Jamie Foxx ft. T-Pain, "Replay" by Iyaz, "Down" by Jay Sean ft. Lil Wayne, "Break Your Heart" by Taio Cruz ft. Ludacris, "Tik Tok" by Kesha

NOW That's What I Call Polka!: "Wrecking Ball" by Miley Cyrus, "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People, "Best Song Ever" by One Direction, "Gangnam Style" by Psy, "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen, "Scream & Shout" by will.i.am feat. Britney Spears, "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye feat. Kimbra, "Timber" by Pitbull feat. Kesha, "Sexy and I Know It" by LMFAO, "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis feat. Wanz, "Get Lucky" by Daft Punk feat. Pharrell Williams

[inkykeiji]

what are your iterations favorite meals? do any of them like spicy food? and who has the worst sweet tooth?

omg anon such a fun question!!!! i'm gonna answer for the dabi iterations only since there’s so many of them, but if you’re interested in my other iterations as well pls do not hesitate to send in another ask! <3

touya-nii (and, honestly, sd!nat touya, too): wagyu steak, of course, with steamed sweet potato and grilled asparagus. touya-nii is a notorious meat eater, and although he lectures his little sister on eating a balanced, colourful diet stuffed with a variety of fruits n veggies, he could definitely take a page or two out of his own book and eat a few more fruits n veggies, too (more than a spoonful of potatoes and three spears of asparagus, at least!). bmb dabi: ramen! any kind, from the cheap dried packages to the uber expensive artisan bowls tomura favours. tag dabi: karaage don. it’s cheap, it’s tasty, and it’s easy for him to make on his own. twin dabi: beef udon! hold the fishcakes, please. twin touya: penne bolognese! DA touya: savoury crepes! dumb expensive for a very small portion of food, but that doesn’t matter when you cry tears of pure platinum, now does it? 1950s dabi: a really, really good burger from his favourite hole-in-the-wall diner and fresh thick cut fries (with extra ketchup!). who likes spicy food? touya-nii loves spice like he’s got something to fucking prove. but he genuinely does enjoy it, and he enjoys it the most out of all of my dabis. twin touya, sd!nat touya, + dark academia touya can also handle spice fairly well and like a bit of kick with their meals. bmb dabi likes spice if it comes paired with copious amounts of sugar. who has the worst sweet tooth? bmb dabi BY FAR. he lives on a diet of sugar; he thrives on a diet of sugar. tomura has definitely had to drag him by the hair to the dentist for cavity fillings more than once. twin dabi also likes sugar, but not nearly to the extent and frequency bmb dabi does. bmb dabi’s sugar consumption is almost on the same level as flawless tomura’s—almost.

[amo-ridere]

I got the pleasure of getting some breakfast at Sugar 'n' Spice Diner. Well, I couldn't go wrong with chicken & waffles. #signatured #feedyourchibis #nendography #nendoroid #killlakill #sukajanryuko #juniorryuuko #ryukomatoi #motogstylus2022 #mobilephotography #SugarNSpiceDiner #smol #smolandnagry #incomingnoms #chickenandwaffles #breakfast #morningphotos https://www.instagram.com/p/CrCQ2k_LtK7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[melancholyshadow]

sunday’s with a solider || b. barnes

part one 

summary: after a good date with bucky, (y/n) figures out who she’s really getting involved with. 

pairing: bucky barnes x female!librarian!reader 

warnings: kissing (??), swearing

an: im honestly speechless, the first part of this series has 150+ notes! i’m so happy you guys liked it! i’m debating on make this a three or a four-part series, please let me know what you think, but there will definitely be at least another part. one of the next, or the next, will include some spice, if you know what i mean. and who do y’all want me to write about next? im thinking mr. steve rogers. 

tags: @biixlv​

“Please tell me you’re a booth person and not a table person.” You chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Uh, yeah.” He laughed and rolled his eyes at you. He began walking towards one of the booths. You followed happily behind him, scooting into the opposite side of the booth. He pulled off his hat and both his gloves, setting them on the seat next to him. You propped your head on the palm of your hands, stopping yourself from looking at his metal hand, you weren’t even sure if it was metal.

The diner was one that had been in this town for, at least, forty years, and it definitely showed its age. It was trying to be a ‘retro diner’ in the eighties, so that aged it another thirty years. You grew up coming here with your family, the food was good, and you thought the inside was cute. The building was longer than it was wide, and the floor reminded you of a checkerboard. There was a long bar on the left, space for waiters to maneuver, and a long panel of metal enclosing the kitchen portion. Bright red bar stools were implemented into the floor, screwed into the floor, every two feet or so. On the right, were five or six booths, the same shade of red as the bar stools, big enough for about four people max. 

“Hey, sugar!” A familiar voice chirped to your left. Your eyes met a familiar pair of green ones, and a smile immediately filled your face. “Hey, Mabel!” You cooed, half-standing under the table and wrapping your arms around her small, fragile frame. She smelled like coffee and smoke, as she always did. The two of you pulled away, and her eyes instantly went to Bucky. “Who's your friend?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at you. “Mabel, this is my friend James. James, this is Mabel.” You explained, quickly introducing the two. He smiled at her and stuck out his ‘normal’ hand to give her a handshake, which she was very fond of. 

“Well, it is great to meet you, James! What can I get you to drink?” She had abandoned her notepad well before you were born, her ability to just remember someone’s order still amazed you. “Coffee please, no sugar or creamer please.” She smiled at him, and turned back towards me, “Regular for you, dear?” She asked, and you smiled, scrunching up your eyes and nose. She practically pranced away with a huge smile on her face. Bucky chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts, turning your head back towards him. His eyes were scanning over the faded laminated menu.

“How do you know Mabel?” He asked, looking up and unzipping his jacket, pulling it off his abdomen and onto the seat beside him, with his gloves and hat. “I grew up coming here with my family, she’s known me since I was in my mother’s stomach.” You explained, pointing to a picture above the bar. It was pretty faded after sitting in direct sunlight for over two decades, but it was a picture of Mabel, your mom, your dad, and you, you all had on party hats. “I had my first ten birthdays at this diner.” Bucky squinted his eyes and smiled once he made out the picture of baby you. 

“That’s awesome.” He said looking back at you. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mabel cut him off. “Here is that coffee, Mr. James.” She slid the coffee in front of him, “And a regular for you, (Y/M/N).” She wiped her hands on her apron, “What can I get you two to eat?” Bucky looked at me, wanting me to order first. “We’ll both take the ‘67.” You smiled. She copied, “You got it, dearie.” And she walked away. Bucky cleared his throat, “Just trust me, Bucky,” You chuckled, placing your hands on top of his, “You’re gonna love it.” He paused for a moment, “I’ll hold you to that.” He winked at you. Did he just wink at you? Was he flirting? You immediately shot back at a wink and a flirty response, “Deal.”

The two of you ate and chatted for about an hour and a half. “Okay, you were right, that was the best food I’ve ever had.” He said, stacking your plates and utensils together, making it easier for Mabel when she took them off the table. “Can I get you two anything else?” She asked, picking up the two plates with ease. Bucky looked at you and you nodded a ‘no,’ and he looked back at Mabel, “No thank you, ma’am, but I will take the check.” He smiled. 

“No, Mabel, split the check pl-” But Mabel cut you off, “Sorry, dear, my hearing aid died, I can’t quite hear you. I’ll bring that check right to you, Mr. James.” Quickly walking away. “Bucky, no, I will pay for mine.” You insisted, going to reach for your purse. You looked around you in your seat in a panic, and then you remembered, it was in the saddlebag attached to his bike. He laughed at you as you came to that realization. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. He simply shrugged and smiled, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Once Mabel returned with the bill and Bucky’s card, the two of you stood, and he let you walk out first. It was a lot colder now, goosebumps layered your exposed arms, like a reflex you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Here, you take this.” He insisted, placing his heavy leather jacket on your shoulders. “No, I can't, you're gonna get cold too.” You began to shrug it off, but he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. “I’ll be fine.” He smirked at you, his hands lingering for a little longer than normal. 

“Ready?” He asked as he straddled his bike, once more. You stuck your arms through the long sleeves, which went way past your fingertips. You took your seat behind him, and he handed you the helmet, and you slid it over your head. Similar to earlier, you snaked your arms around him, clasping your hands together, and resting around his mid-abdomen. His hands, once again, landed on your thighs, pulling you even closer to him, making a different type of goosebumps cover your arms. 

“Hang on tight, doll.” He said as the bike came to life. You were so glad you were wearing a helmet, so he couldn’t see the brush creep onto your cheeks. As you two rode, he used his prosthetic hand to steer the bike and kept his flesh hand on your knee the entire time. The sky had ditched the orange, pink, and red hues and was now littered in stars and moonlight. You didn’t want this to end, you felt like you could stay there for hours, but the library came into view a lot sooner than you wanted it to. 

The next day came and you got excited, as always, to see Bucky. Today was a little different though, after your date last night. Wait, was that even a date? It had to be, right? I mean he paid and flirted with you. 

“Bucky, why do you come in here every day?” You asked, peering at him over the book in your hands. He didn’t move for a second, you assumed he was finishing the sentence he was reading. “Well, all the libraries in New York City are crowded and noisy.” He explained, “So when I found this place while scoping out new libraries, even though it is quite a distance, I knew this place was it for me.” He smiled at you. “At least that was the reason initially.” He muttered, picking his book back up. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You set your book down this time, squinting your eyes at him, and propping your head up on your hands. “Well obviously, I now come back because the shitty coffee you offer is to die for.” He said sarcastically. You gasped and threw one of your pens at him, bouncing off his chest and onto the floor. He broke out into a fit of laughter, and you soon followed. 

“No, but now I come back to hang out with you.” He admitted to you, avoiding your stare. “Oh that so sweet…” You started, “...Dork.” Throwing another pen at him, this time hitting the bill of his hat. Bucky had come in every day for a little over a month now and missed not a single Sunday. “Hey (Y/F/N)?” Bucky asked, looking back up from his book. Your eyes didn’t leave the pages of your book, but you answered, “Yes, Buck?” You asked back, flipping the page. 

“I won’t be here tomorrow, and for a couple days after that.” When the words left his lips, a wave of sadness washed over you. Your lips twisted into a pout, looking towards him. “Why?” You asked, dragging out the word. “I have some obligations.” You rolled your eyes at him, “Okay, Mr. Mysterious.” You scoffed, feeling a bit upset. How long had he known? Why was he just now telling you? “I’m gonna be so bored without you.” You whined, leaning back in your chair with a huff. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

It was closing time now, and as usual, Bucky walked you to your car. “You better bring me a souvenir from wherever you’re going.” You joked, tossing your purse into the passenger seat, and turning back towards Bucky. “Would you prefer a T-shirt? Maybe some socks? How about a shot glass?” He joked back, leaning against the side of your car. “Surprise me.” You laughed, pushing his chest. 

As you went to pull away from his chest, his flesh hand wrapped around your wrist, softly. He placed it back on his chest, and his metal hand went to your hip, pulling you closer to him. The only distance between both of your chest was being occupied by your hand. You swore up and down that he could hear your heartbeat, but you were soon reassured because you could feel his heartbeat racing just as much as yours was. Bucky glanced down at your lips, and you did the same. 

You closed the space between your lips, and without thinking your eyes fluttered closed, taking in everything happening over your entire body. His lips were soft, tasting like coffee and mint. The growing stubble on his chin rubbed against the softness of your cheeks. His flesh hand was warm around your wrist, gripping it softly, he never wanted to hurt you. But the gestures with his metal hand were very different. It was leaving a cool tingling sensation against the small patch of exposed skin, and his grip was tighter, pushing you impossibly closer to him. You took your free hand, and placed it on his face, thumb running over his cheek, and your other four fingers resting on his neck. 

After what feels like minutes, but was probably only about thirty seconds, you pulled away from him. Reluctantly, of course. The two of you just stood there, not moving, relishing at the moment for as long as you could. “You know I meant to surprise me souvenir-wise, right?” You chuckled, messing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Oh okay, we can just never do that again.” He sighed, messing with you. 

“No, no, we can definitely do that again.”

~

It was the first Sunday without Bucky in a while, he had been gone for almost a week now, you assumed working on his ‘obligations.’ You had been keeping yourself busy with a new book series, one that Bucky actually recommended to you. But today would be full of dusting, reorganizing, putting away some newer books, and vacuuming. It was probably around 3:30 in the afternoon, and you were dusting the large bay windows by the front of the store. 

You could feel the music moving through your body, making it impossible for you not to dance, at least just a little wiggle. You swayed your hips, the music taking over, singing into the duster like a microphone. Your free hand ran up the side of your body, from your thigh all the way up to your face. You threw your arm up over your head, and prancing around the tables, shifting the duster from a microphone to an electric guitar. When the song was finally over, and you were very much out of breath, you made your way back to the window. And when you did so, your heart dropped to your toes. There was a man standing on the opposite side of the window, watching you. 

It only took a few seconds for your fear to turn into relief. It was Bucky. You dashed to the left towards the door, unlocking the door, and running out to greet him. Practically leaping towards him, you wrapped both arms around his neck, and his arms snaked around your waist. After a few moments of swaying and just taking in his presence, you pulled away. He was smiling widely, “I didn’t mean to end your concert so soon, I was enjoying it.” Adding a chuckle. Your face blushed, and you put your hand over your eyes, peeking at him through your middle and ring finger, “Did you see the whole thing?” You asked, dreading his answer. “The whole thing.”

The two of you walked back inside, the music still playing loudly. There was a slow song playing, and you grabbed your phone to turn it down, but Bucky stopped you. “Wanna dance?” He asked, putting his hand out for you to grab. You smiled, happily taking it. He pulled your chest against his. Your arms rest on his shoulders, your fingers loosely interlocked. Both hands on your hips, both of you just rocking side to side. The music wasn’t even registering in your brain, you were just focusing on this moment with him. 

“I remember when this song came out.” He said softly. You cocked your eyebrow at him, “Didn’t this song come out in the fifties?” You asked confused, what did he mean by that? “So you really don’t know who I am, huh?” The question caught you off-guard, it sounded very egotistical. “No..?” You asked more like a question. And that’s when he explained everything, making a very long story very short. He explained the arm, the serum, and the ‘obligations.’ 

“You’re a fucking Avenger?” You asked, head in your hands, elbows on your knee. “Well, technically I’ve never been asked to be one, but kind of.” His hand on your back, rubbing it in small circles. “So you’re the James Buchanan Barnes from the Captain America museum?” He nodded. Everything kind of flooded back to your memory, you knew you heard the nickname “Bucky” before, and you knew he looked somewhat familiar, but you assumed he just looked kinda similar to an actor or something. 

It was silent for a good five minutes, but Bucky broke it. “Hey, guess what?” He asked, trying to hide the upturn of his lips. What now? Was he gonna break some more news to you? Was he also part alien? “Hmm?” That was all you said, running your fingers through your hair. He moved his hand to reach into his backpack and pulled out a book, sliding it towards you. 

“Russian Urban Legends.” You read the title, quickly flipping through the book with your thumb. “Flip to page 48, and tell me what it says.” He said, propping his head upon his hands. You did as he said and landed on page forty-eight. “The Winter Soldier.” You read the words written in a bright red font, the page decorated in grainy photos and ridiculously cheesy government lettering and drawings. Bucky looked at you, prompting you to continue. 

“A ghost story or a real threat?”

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

How I imagine the nations smell/what perfumes and scented candles they’d have/like.

Because my friend Richie started talking about how nations smell like, I’m thinking about it a lot so here’s my rambled thoughts cause why not. This normally isn’t my dig but why not Im bored.

--N Italy--

Vene smells like happiness- I joke but I imagine he smells just very bright. Like orange peels, and freshly cut grass. Firm pressed designer leather bags too. Not to mention fresh food, like he just left the kitchen after being in it all day. The warring smells of all sorts of spices that linger on his clothes from accidental hand fumbles or just a little too much enthusiastic shaking.

--S Italy--

Romano’s is very sharp, something that hits you when he walks in but not in an unpleasant way. I think he’d smell like a coffee shop. Very warm and impactful. Citrus and coffee, like an espresso romano. Specifically lemon and dark roasted coffee, maybe the faintest hint of caramel or something sweet that you can’t quite place. A gentle touch, just a touch of the ocean too. Just a slight sprinkle of salt.

--Germany--

Germany smells like a bakery, that’s it I wont take critique on the matter. I used to lean oak wood and car oil like his brother but let’s be real this man smells like he’s been sleeping in the bakery for 10 years. He smells like bread and cinnamon and blackberry jam. He smells like turbenado sugar and fresh baked apple pie. Just... warmth. A warm bakery or a kitchen. Filled with laughter and homely vibes.

--Prussia--

Prussia’s is similar to Germany but a bit harsher. There’s the under-hint of sweets but the overtone his oak and mahogany wood and leather. With just a twinge of that sweet hoppy smell of beer. Not too much just on the very edge. Wouldn't be surprised if he has a splash of car oil to his vibe. Just smells like an old man XD. But joking aside its a very homely vibe. Like he just came in from being out in the garage all day working on his car and just came in for a drink and a conversation.

--Japan--

Japan has the most subtle of scents. Cherry blossom is the most obvious but I think he leans more toward warm ocean breeze, faint sea salt and macha tea. Just that warm ocean vibe like youre standing right by the ocean, feeling thew waves on your feet, feeling the salt sting your nose just a bit. Balanced out with the round smell of macha that mellows it just enough for the gentle but pronounced cherry blossom to come through.

--USA--

America sounds like a drive in or a diner. That warm fry oil and seared beef and bacon. And soda, like that tingle of when you first open a soda. Specifically a cherry soda, that sweet, sticky fake cherry syrup smell. That kind of energy. He also smells like worn leather and cut grass, mainly from the his old bomber jacket that he wears all the time. It gives him a more well rounded vibe to him. Like sitting in an old diner from the 60′s with the leather booths and the jukeboxes.

--Canada--

“MAPLE” yeah of course obviously. He of course smells like maple syrup, but also other things. To me he has a forest vibe to him, a cabin in the woods. Like pine trees, moss, half frozen soil, maple sap/syrup. He smells like the halfway point between winter and spring. Where pollen and the vague scent of flowers are starting to appear while the soft scent of fallen snow and salt still lingers.

--UK--

England’s a really easy one for me. He smells like old books, earl grey and black tea and the ocean. He smells like- wet. Even when he isnt. You know the smell when you get soaked in the rain? That vibe. And of course, the old dusty books, ones that have been on the shelf for years and years, whom pages are starting to yellow. Fresh brewed tea with that hint of steam, just wet cool and a bit bitter.

--France--

While I’m trying to not have all of them smell like flowers because that unrealistic, I’m going all for it here. You can’t tell me this man doesn't smell like a bouquet of roses with an after-hint of that sharp sting yet pleasant and mellow scent of a good red wine. Like that distinct smell of alcohol, surrounded by a vibrant array of bright floral scents. He smells like he walks around with a dozen roses and a bottle of wine in his hands all the time and he cultivates that approachable suave energy with it.

--China--

China smells warm. Just warm. Like I can’t quite specify what it is but I feel like his ambient scent is just warmth. Like cinnamon and star anise, Chinese five spice kind of vibe. Something that when it hits your nose you just feel good. Like he just walked out of a high end fancy restaurant after a big meeting with others. Maybe a subtle hint of peonies. He has that natural vibe that just makes you wanna smile.

--Russia--

I like to think Russia smells like a snow covered forest. That scent and feeling when the air is sharply cold and you can smell the snowstorm coming in, with a bit of pine. Maybe even a hint of a campfire. If I had to pick like a building that he’d have that ambient scent of it would be like a carpentry shop. The smell of a fire in the fireplace, freshly lacquered wood, cut mahogany and pine sap.

[toomanyrobins]

Sugar

Summary: Moving to the small town of Lehigh was supposed to be a quiet escape. But, the local sheriff and his determination to drive you crazy turns your plans right on their head.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Content Warning: some swearing, annoying misunderstandings that would be fixed if people just communicated

Notes: This has not been proofread, so any mistakes are entirely my own. Whoops!

You had just arrived in Lehigh the week before and had been busy moving into your new home on the outskirts. When you’d seen the little cottage, you knew that it was meant to be and used the money grandpa had left when he died to buy it. A few days after moving in the last of the boxes, you wandered through the small town. The help wanted sign in the front of the diner made the job search easy and after a week working as a waitress, you’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. The other waitresses had been kind to her and now you considered Wanda and MJ to be friends. MJ and her boyfriend, Peter, had a young son and she had begged you to take the breakfast shift so that she could be home in the mornings. You had readily agreed, enjoying filling your days with work, and now it was your first morning shift.

You greeted Wanda as she pulled in and together you flipped on the lights and put on music to dance to as you started up the coffee machines and took down the chairs. It wasn’t long before people started coming in. Two men in uniform walked into the diner and sat in one of the booths in MJ’s usual section. You couldn’t stop the little voice in your head from appreciating how attractive they were, but you shut her down. You walked up to the table and plastered on a smile, “Morning, gentlemen. What can I getcha?”

The blonde looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know you.”

Your internal voice snorted at the obvious statement and you nodded, “And I don’t know you. Now, what can I getcha?”

The dark-haired man did snort at the awkward interaction, “I will have a black coffee and whatever pie you have.”

“Does cherry work?” He nodded and you turned back to his friend, “And you, Officer Stranger?”

“That’s Sheriff Stranger—I mean Rogers—Sheriff Rogers.”

“Alright, Sheriff,” you decided to take pity on the awkward man, “What’ll it be?”

“Toast and black coffee.”

“Right away, Sheriff Stranger,” you flashed him a dazzling smile and went to put his order in.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, “Well done, Punk. You made a great first impression on the pretty waitress.”

Steve groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Thanks, Buck. Appreciate it.”

“Get some coffee in you and try again. Maybe smile this time.”

After that first failed encounter, Steve had come to the diner every morning. For two weeks, he would come and sit in your section. You couldn’t help yourself and continued to call him Sheriff Stranger. It had evolved into a fond nickname, instead of a sarcastic quip. He had taken to sitting at the counter instead of the booths so that he could chat with you as you moved around. He had been surprised by how quick your mind was and it had become the habit for him to read the paper aloud, the two of you going back and forth about whatever the front page was reporting on.

That morning, just like every other morning, he put in his usual order of black coffee and toast. You threw your head back dramatically and groaned, “Stranger, you’re killing me. Variety is the spice of life. How about scrambled eggs? Home fries? A piece of fruit?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at your dramatics, “I like my toast and coffee, Sugar.”

“Fine!” You threw your hands in the air, “It’s your really boring funeral.” Steve chuckled under his breath as he looked back down at the paper. It didn’t take long for you to bring his plate over and when he put the paper down, he choked at the sight of what was on his plate. You meticulously had arranged a bacon smiley face with melon balls for eyes on top of his toast. You skipped away before he could say anything and he was left to stare at the ridiculous breakfast. Steve contemplated calling you over, but dreaded seeing the disappointment in your eyes. Instead, he popped a melon ball in his mouth and when he looked up, you had a massive grin on your face. You purposefully avoided looking over, but both of you knew this was a victory for Y/N.

After that first day, you continued to sneak new things on his plate often. The day after, you brought him his usual coffee and toast, but also put a glass of orange juice down. You winked at him, said something about vitamin C, and walked away to help another customer.

The day after that, it was an omelet with peppers and cheese. Every few days, you would allow him a respite from the over-the-top breakfasts and would bring him toast and coffee, but always added an orange juice to the order, insisting he needed some fruit.

One day when you allowed him to order his boring breakfast, as you’d dubbed it, you pulled the paper away from him, “I have to ask. Is the toast and coffee an indication of the other meals you eat? Because if you’re boiling your chicken, we are gonna have a serious problem.” Steve looked ashamed and you gaped at him, “Oh sweet Jesus! You boil your chicken!” You propped your head up with one hand, “It is flavor? Do you just hate things that taste good?”

“I am busy helping to run this town. I don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”

You looked incredulous, but perked up when you saw someone walk through the door. Steve could see the gears whirring in your head and knew this was not going to be good for him. “Officer Bucky, sir!” you waved him over, “I have a question for you! Answer it right and your meal is on me.”

The dark-haired man looked confused, but figured it didn’t hurt to try his hand at a free meal, “Alright, hit me.”

“What did you make for dinner last night?”

“Ciorba de Perisoare. It’s my mother's recipe for meatball soup. One of Nat’s favorites.”

You grinned victoriously at Steve and tapped the counter where there was a seat available, “That answer gets you one of those potato and cheese omelettes I know you love. Oh, and a slice of cherry pie.” You came back out with Bucky’s delicious looking breakfast and Steve’s sad toast and black coffee. The latter rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, begging God to give him strength to deal with the stubborn young woman who had captured his interest.

“Any chance you can tell me why I’m eating for free?” Bucky asked.

“I boil my chicken,” Steve grumbled.

“What?”

“You’re eating for free because I boil chicken.” Bucky just stared at Steve in disgust and confusion before turning back to his breakfast, shaking his head at the two clueless idiots.

It had been almost three months since you had moved to Lehigh. Once Bucky had told his wife about the pretty waitress at the diner that had ensnared Steve’s attention, Nat had made it her mission to befriend her. She had gone into the diner one day and chatted with you, inviting her to join her friends for a girl’s night. That had been the start of a beautiful friendship that had the redhead trying to sniff out what the feelings were between you and Steve.

At the diner, it had been a long day for you. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon and she was dead on her feet. Nat came flying into the diner, “Sugar, get your best outfit on! We are going out tonight.”

You shook her head at the amount of energy her friend had. All you wanted to do was finish your shift and go home to soak in the claw foot tub you’d just scrubbed clean the day before. You leaned against the counter putting on your best puppy dog eyes, “I have been on my feet since 6 o’clock this morning. The last thing I want to do is go out.”

“It’ll be an easy night, I promise,” Nat hopped onto one of the stools at the counter as you poured her a cup of coffee, decaf of course, “It’ll just be some drinks at the Hideout. Please? First round’s on me.”

You groaned and then nodded, “How could I ever say no to you? I get off in an hour. We getting ready at mine or yours?”

“Mine. I already told Buck that they could meet us there.”

“They?”

“Yeah… Bucky and Steve.”

“Nat, don't tell me this is some setup for a double date.”

The redhead gasped in outrage, “What you must think of me! I just want my friends and I to spend a night out together.” You raised an eyebrow at her friend. Nat held her hands up in defeat, “I promise. No more setups.”

You finished up the last hour of your shift and timed-out. When you walked out, Nat was waiting for her. She drove over to Bucky and her home and they started getting ready. This had become such a common occurrence for the two women that she had taken to leaving a pair of clothes at Nat’s for convenience.

You had opened a bottle of wine while they got ready and by the time the two men arrived, you both had dissolved into giggles. It had not gotten better as the group got to The Hideout. You and Nat were having a great time and the music started playing. The latter had pulled Bucky out of their booth to dance. Steve had slung his arm over the back of the booth and in your inebriated state, you didn’t notice how much either of you had curled against each other. Tucked comfortably in the booth, you people-watched. As the music transitioned into a slower one, he held out his hand, “Dance with me, Sugar?”

“I’d love to,” you laughed as he pulled her out onto the floor. Soon the music slowed, and you were swaying together. Steve had chatted away about his work and you were happy to listen to him speak so passionately. Eventually, you leaned your head against his broad chest, feeling his hand move underneath her shirt. His fingers grazed your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You felt Steve’s heartbeat speed up and smiled softly to yourself. You weren’t alone the effects of being in such close contact. As the song ended, you lifted her head up and got sucked into his deep blue eyes. Just as you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you, the main door swung open and three women walked in. When Steve saw them, he cleared his throat and stepped back awkwardly. You were left feeling cold and confused as Steve walked away before you could ask him what was wrong. You moved to the bar, wondering if you’d just screwed everything up with that almost kiss. Steve had become the person you were closest to in town and without his company, the loneliness was sure to grow.

Throwing back a shot before heading to the bathroom, you needed a moment to clear her head. You stared into the mirror, wondering how you could fix your mistake. One of the stalls opened revealing one of the women that had come in. She washed her hands and fixed her lipstick before acknowledging you. The smile she gave didn’t reach her eyes. She spun around, “You’re Y/N, right? From the diner?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you were not sober enough to remember if she’s ever been into your work before, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

The blonde looked almost insulted that she wasn’t instantly recognized, “I’m Trish. Steve’s fiancée, Carly, is my best friend.”

You thought you were going to be sick right there on the floor, “Steve has a fiancée?”

“Oh yeah!” Trish explained, “It’s not official yet but she found the ring in his sock drawer a month ago. I’m sure that’s why he hasn’t mentioned it yet. But, it’s coming any day now”

“Right--,” you grabbed a paper towel and dried your hands quickly, “It was nice to meet you. I guess I should get back to my friend.” You hurried out of the bathroom and back to the booth, grabbing your purse and jacket. Thankfully, it seemed that Nat and Bucky were still occupied and you made a quick getaway.

The walk back home was only 20 minutes and as soon as the front door was shut, tears started to well in your eyes. You fanned your face, “Stop it. Stop it. He’s not yours.” Walking into the bathroom, you hated how much Steve had melded into your life. You’d brought paint samples into the diner one day and asked his opinion. Now, the color he picked seemed to mock you. How could she have been so stupid as to let this man in? Of course, he had a girlfriend, soon to be fiancé. Why would he want a waitress who forced her way into his life. God, I’m just a nag. You threw the towel against the wall and curled up in bed, letting yourself wallow in self-pity.

The next morning, Steve didn’t show up for breakfast. Every time the bell above the door chimed, your eyes jumped to see who it was and each time you cursed herself for being that way. Around lunchtime, Nat came in and looked upset. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye last night?”

You plastered on a fake, apologetic smile, “I started to feel sick and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“How did you get home?”

“I walked,” When Nat opened her mouth to scold her about being safer, you shook your head, “I know. I know. It was a stupid idea, but I was drunk. I promise I won’t do it again.”

The redhead nodded and then switched gears. A mischievous grin grew on her face, “You and Steve looked comfy on the dance floor last night.”

You scoffed as you turned to refill a coffee pot, “That’s never gonna happen.”

“But—“

You decided to be blunt, “I know about Carly.”

Nat looked confused, “And because of that you won’t give him a chance?”

“Definitely not. I’m kinda insulted that no one said anything to me.” A family walked in and sat in your section, “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

When you turned back to put the family’s order in, Nat was gone and it felt like a boulder was weighing on your chest.

It wasn’t until a week after that awful night that Steve deigned to come back to the diner. He looked like a child who’d just been told off by a parent. He took his usual seat at the counter and put his hand on top of yours when you came over, “I’m sorry about last week. Sugar, let me explain.”

You slid your hand out from under his and shook your head, “No need. I know the story now. I’m sorry if I gave off the wrong impression. Let’s just be glad nothing happened. I’ll bring your breakfast around.” When you brought him his meal, Steve felt sick to his stomach. There were no melon ball eyes, no bacon smile, not even a glass of orange juice. Just toast and a black coffee. You walked away before he could say a thing.

The food tasted like sand against his tongue and when he swallowed his last bite, he walked out and left the money on the counter without another word. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled his cruiser onto the side of the road and threw up the “boring breakfast.” His temper was at an all-time high and he was shouting at everyone in the station. Finally, Bucky walked into his office and shut the door, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I fucked up and it’s unsolvable. I almost kissed Y/N last week, but Carly came in and I freaked out instead. You know how those women are and I thought that if they saw me with Y/N, they’d run her off. Turns out I was right. She said she’d heard enough and is glad that nothing has happened between us.”

Bucky was surprised to hear that. You had seemed too sweet to let something like Carly’s lies get to you. Especially without hearing Steve’s side. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, Punk.”

Things did not improve as the weeks went on. First, your greetings had slowed down in their enthusiasm and he missed being called Sheriff Stranger. Steve tried to catch your eye, but you quickly put the plate down and went to another table. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your eyes weren’t as bright and he could see the makeup trying to hide how tired you were. Everything about Y/N was just off.

It was late that night when Steve swung around the back of the diner. The main parking lot was packed and he decided the back was easier. He saw a figure leaning against the wall and figured it was one of the waitresses on a smoke break. As he walked closer, Steve realized it was you and that you were asleep. You’d had walked out back for some air and had fallen asleep against the back wall. Steve shook you awake and you were embarrassed that you’d crashed like that. He pushed a strand of hair out of the way and you winced at the close contact. He pulled his hand back, “What’s going on, Y/N. Did something else happen?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. Steve hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up so that your eyes met his. He leaned down and kissed you, instantly making you dizzy. You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moved closer until your back was against the brick, both of you intoxicated with the other.

You were interrupted by someone calling your name inside and you pulled away. With one look back, you hurried back inside. Steve ran a hand through his hair, a grin on his face. Maybe not all was lost if you kissed him back like that. You were the first person he’d been interested in since he’d ended things with Carly. After they’d broken up, she was so angry that she told anyone who would listen about how he couldn’t get it up and was all-around disappointing. One of the downsides of living in a small town was that once something was out, everyone knew. Since their breakup, Steve had been too worried to even try and date someone else. Suddenly, you’d shown up in a hail of melon balls and paint samples and the idea of trying again wasn’t quite so terrifying.

You had gone home that night, the kiss seared in your mind. It felt like you’d just closed your eyes when your alarm went off. It was a rough morning and you were nursing a cup of coffee when you saw Steve, Bucky, and Nat arrive and sit in one of the booths in your section. You groaned when you saw the shit-eating grins on all their faces and walked over to the table, “Morning. What’ll it be?” Bucky and Nat quickly put in their order and then you turned to the blond.

“Waffles.”

You just stared at Steve and slowly brought one hand up to his face. He cheered internally when he felt your cool hand on his forehead, “You don’t have a fever. Are you dying?”

Both Bucky and Nat were dying on the other side of the table. Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you, “Ha. Ha. You’re on me all the time to try something different; so I am.”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s face made it all worth it. She said nothing else, worried he’d change his mind. She put the order in and went to check on her other tables. The minute his breakfast was ready, Y/N brought it over to him, “I won’t force the orange juice on you today. So, your coffee is on me.”

“Sugar, you don’t need to do that. If I didn’t want the waffles I wouldn’t have ordered them.” Nat saw the smile falter at the pet name and decided she was going to get you to talk before she left.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m in charge of your bill. Just say thank you and tell me I’m right.”

“Thank you.”

You tried to stay busy as the trio ate, but you squeaked as Nat came out of nowhere and dragged you into the bathroom, “Spill.” You stammered as you tried to figure out what to say. “I know you and Steve kissed, but when he called you Sugar you looked like you were dying inside. Are you really so shallow that you’re going to let one little rumor from a heinous girlfriend ruin this chance?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m honestly super pissed off that you’d try and set me up with an engaged guy just because you don’t like his fiancee.”

“Who’s fiancee?”

“Steve’s!”

“Steve doesn’t have a fiancee.”

It felt like all the air had deflated from you, “What?

“Steve’s not engaged to Carly. Never was. They broke up over a year ago.”

“I don’t understand. Why would her friend tell me that?”

“Because Carly is a psycho bitch hates to see Steve happy. After they broke up, she told everyone that his little friend was less than great and he sucked in bed. Everyone in town has been talking about the two of you and how cute you guys are. You’re the first woman that he’s gotten the courage to any show interest in since it all happened.

“That…” You couldn’t believe you’d been trapped in such a lie, “BITCH! How could she do that to Steve? He’s like the sweetest guy ever!”

“He thought you’d heard the rumors and that’s why you pulled away.” You were so confused and just stood there. Nat smacked you on the arm, “Well, go out there! Kiss him and tell him that you're both idiots. Go!”

You were practically gnawing at your bottom lip, your stomach in knots. You walked up to the table, “Steve, could we talk?”

“Of course, Sugar.”

Your eyes slid over to Bucky, “Outside?” You grabbed his hand and dragged him out the front door. You bounced your leg as you tried to figure out how to start this, “Um--so--you see--I--.”

“Y/N?”

“Fuck it,” You threw caution to the wind and hooked your finger into Steve’s belt loop, pulling him in for a kiss. He buried his hands in your hair, his tongue tangling with yours. He pulls away, both of you trying to catch your breath. His eyebrows were furrowed and vulnerability and fear shone in his eyes. “I am an idiot,” you blurted out.

“I’m just not quite sure what’s going on. We don’t talk for like two weeks and then I kissed you and you ran away and now you’re kissing me again.”

“I thought you were engaged.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, I know that now. Nat explained everything to me. The actual story. I have half a mind to burn down that bitch, Carly’s, house.”

Steve laughed and wrapped an arm around your waist, “I really don’t want to have to arrest you for arson.”

“Technically, it'll be attempted murde--,” He leaned down and kissed you again, shutting you up. You pulled back and smiled up at him. “I’m taking you out tonight. I’ll tell Nat to come by your place to help you get ready.” You couldn’t help but giggle at how well he knew you.

You turned to walk back into the diner and found every patron plastered against the windows watching you. “Somehow, I think she might already know, Stranger.” Steve just smiled at you and laced your finger together, walking back into the diner where it all began.

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 3: Charlotte

Summary: High school AU, 1985, Winter. The year’s off to a strange start as Charlotte and her friends find out that not only does Lola work at the new diner that opened up in town, but her dad owns it! Charlotte humbles Nikki in a very un-Charlotte manor, and Vince’s parents decide to host an English exchange student in an attempt to give him a good role model; instead, they get Razzle.

A/N: 8466 words. Do I care too much about this AU? Yes. as always, for my dears @misscharlottelee and @newyeareva ft. a softer world quotes

the city sometimes feels like a movie set. maybe this is the big scene. maybe i can be an extra at least.

Charlotte’s only a few practice hours away from being able to get her provisional license, and she berates her past self for not getting it sooner, especially not when her Winter Break has been kind of a shit-show and she’d rather tear off her own arms than ride in Tommy’s shitbox of a car with Vince Neil. 

Since his blowout house party, Vince had essentially been grounded for the rest of the school year, had his car privileges revoked, and the only people his parents apparently trusted him to hang around with outside of school, were Tommy, Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach. Tommy was delighted. The girls, unsurprisingly, were not. Vince himself was downright somber, and had sulked for the remainder of the semester, and well into the break.

He had been in a particularly sour mood since last night, New Year’s Eve, when his parents had announced they were going to be hosting an exchange student from England for six months. Vince is convinced it’s an attempt to give him some sort of role model his own age, and spent most of his parents’ New Year’s Eve party ranting to Tommy and the girls while they played cards in his basement.

Her saving grace is Eileen, of course, who’s father had bought her mother a shiny, new car for Christmas, and had given Eileen the keys to her mother’s old station wagon. 

“It’s kinda dumb that we’re taking two cars,” Peach, Eileen’s little sister, pipes up from the back seat, hands fiddling in her lap. It’s New Year’s Day, and while their various parents were sleeping off their hangovers, they’d suggested the kids check out the new diner that was opening today. Vince jumped at the suggestion of freedom, and everyone was in agreement, but Eileen and Charlotte took Peach in Eileen’s car the moment Vince slid into Tommy’s front seat, holding the flyer he’d gotten at the mall that told them all about the diner’s opening day, “just saying, we could all fit in one.” But she’s met with silence, “are you going to be mad at him forever?” She finally sighs.

“Yes.” Both Charlotte and Eileen answer automatically. Peach sighs as dramatically as she’s able, and sinks as low into the seat as she can. Charlotte turns on the radio, and hums along to something familiar, but that she doesn’t quite recognize, staring out the front window at the back of Tommy’s car. Vince turns around in the front seat and flips them off.

“I’m gonna ram them,” Eileen says, with absolute sincerity and serenity, leveling an intense glare at where Vince was now waving.

“Don’t,” Charlotte advises, equally level.

“I don’t get why you’re still mad, I’m not even mad,” Peach huffed, pouting. Charlotte and Eileen share a look; at sixteen years old, Peach was top of almost all of her math and science classes, but she was still a teenage girl, and an absolute fool for a blonde boy who made her cry. Charlotte knew that feeling all too well, but thankfully she’d moved on from the ‘wondering why she wasn’t enough’ stage to the ‘realizing her ex is a cheating douchebag and it was never her fault’ stage. She really hopes Peach can move on to ‘realizing Vince made her cry and hasn’t even tried to change since then and deserved to get his car keyed’ stage quickly.

The diner was bustling when they arrived, a large decal on the inside of window, black, thick and flowing lettering, outlined in gold, reading Leo’s. Through the window, several booths were already filled, as were a host of the stools along the counter. It looked warm inside, inviting in golds, yellows, peaches and oranges, neon signs and rusted street signs, band and comic book memorabilia, and photos. Behind the counter -

Lola. Smiling.

“I’m freezing my butt off, can we go in?” Peach asks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her parker, the only person who did not recognize the girl currently pouring coffee for an elderly gentleman at the counter. 

Inside, the diner is warm, filled with the sounds pleasant chatter, and of the Beatles coming from a cherry wood jukebox in the corner.

“Lola!” Tommy can’t help himself, lighting up at the sight of her, and once Lola finishes pouring her customer coffee, she looks to their confused little group, and waves.

“Find yourselves a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she calls back, smiling bright and wide, hair tied back with a bright, red bandana. 

The teens do as they’re told, pulling off jackets and gloves and scarves, sliding into a booth by the window, looking around, wrapped up in the smell of warm food, and the confusion of Lola’s presence, and completely unfamiliar demeanor. There’s an uncertain kind of quiet among them, having just expected to spend lunch at a cool new diner, but this has shift everything, only Peach, blissfully unaware of who Lola even was, seemed at ease, rearranging the sugar packets in their little holder.

Lola comes by with menus, and cups, and a pitcher of water for the table, looking pristine and put together in a tight, black blouse, skirt, and scuffed black combat boots, little peach-coloured apron tied around her waist. She pulls a notebook and pen from the pocket of the apron, looking around at them all, as if finally taking a moment to assess the situation.

Charlotte picked up a menu.

“You work here?” Tommy asked, and Lola confirms brightly, but doesn’t give any further details. She does, however, thank them all for coming, and recommend a few of her favourites.

“I’m also partial to The Lola, for obvious reasons,” she gives an actual laugh at that, as if implying one of the burgers was named after her was giving away too much information, and Charlotte was quickly scouring the menu.

Beef patty, double bacon, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a home-made smokey maple-barbeque sauce, on a toasted bun.

“The menu’s kind of misleading,” Lola admits, moving to look down over Charlotte’s shoulder as she was reading, “all the patties are home made too, with Leo’s signature blend of herbs and spices.” That asked more questions than it answered. No-one’s quite sure what to say.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Peach pipes up, and Lola’s smile grew wide as she asked what flavour, “chocolate, please, and do you have curly fries or regular?”

“Hand cut,” Lola tells her proudly, but that means very little to Peach, who’s just glad to be having food, “still need time to think?” Lola asks the rest, and they all give her awkward, quiet smiles and nods. 

Lola leaves, heading back to the counter, and the moment she’s gone, the whole table explodes with whispered confusion, leaning in, asking questions and not getting any answers. 

“You guys are being super fucking weird,” Peach hisses loudly at them all, while Charlotte and Tommy argue about how the other should have known. Eileen, quietly delighted by the chaos, demands to know if anyone else thinks Lola might secretly have a twin, and Vince, who’s had the least contact with her aside from Peach, is babbling about how it’s weird to see Lola so chipper; their mutual confusion is enough to set aside Eileen and Charlotte’s hatred of him, at least for the moment. 

When Peach demands they explain what they’re all whisper-shouting about, disturbing the booth behind her, they all quiet down, and Tommy and Eileen take it in turns explaining their full understanding of Lola. Charlotte takes the time to actually look around the diner now that she was inside.

There’s two other waitress, one behind the counter, the other always moving on about the various tables and booths on one side, making sure the customers are happy and food and drinks are delivered, both in the same outfit as Lola, though with varying footwear. 

The view to the kitchen is unobstructed behind the counter, a half wall where meals ready to be delivered were sat, but a clear view to where three people in the kitchen, two by the grills and fryers, turned away; a broad-shouldered man towering over the grill with the longest hair Charlotte’s ever seen braided neatly down his back, and a comparatively shorter man, also with far shorter hair, though enough to be pulled up into a messy pony tail. The shorter man’s working the fryer, and putting together burgers as the taller man cooked up their various ingredients. There was also a strangely familiar kid with a mop of dark, curly hair washing dishes on the other side of the kitchen, barely visible.

Lola worked diligently, smiling and chatting away; she collected dishes, and ferried meals, and handed out slices of desert from the cute, multi-tiered desserts display on the counter. When she came back, milkshake in one hand, basket of fries in the other, Peach is fully caught up on each of her friend’s short but confusing histories with her, and blurts out -

“You’re Lola?” Injecting new meaning into the words, into the name, as if anyone else at their entire school had the same name. Lola’s smile goes a little tight as she places the fries and the milkshake before the redhead. Standing back up, she taps her nametag, which reads Lola, with little flowers drawn around it, and confirms, though it’s clear she’s more on edge than she was before.

“You guys ready to order?” She asks, still trying to keep up her chipper attitude, pulling out her notebook again. Everyone’s quieter this time, looking over the menu and finally deciding on food.

“My mom heard the owner was a chef, is that true?” Tommy asks, looking up from the menu to Lola again, and the tense set of her shoulders loosens considerably at the question.

“Leo is a chef,” Lola nodded, grinning broadly, “trained at the Culinary Institute of America back in the sixties, and worked his way up to being the head chef of Parker House in Boston, which I know probably doesn’t mean much to you guys, but it’s,” Lola laughs a little struggling to describe it, “it’s fine dining at it’s finest, but for the past twelve years, he’s been running Leo’s in Salem, and now he’s here, still using all that fine dining training for the anyone who wants a good meal at a good price.”

“Is that something they have you memorize in training?” Vince says, a little awed, and Lola gives a strange little smile.

“Leo’s my dad.”

Everything kind of fell into place after that, finally making sense, and the gang’s confusion quickly shifted to understanding, and the air around the table seemed to clear. It was easier after that, the teens in the booth ordering quickly, and the chatter picked up to a normal level as she moved away, shouting their order back to the kitchen once she was back at the counter.

She doesn’t spend much time at their table, still in charge of waitressing half of the tables and booths, but she always gives them a nod as she passes, and their meals are being delivered efficiently, so there’s no reason to complain.

The food itself, for diner food, is nothing short of spectacular, which kind of just raises more questions - why if Leo can cook food that tastes this good, and with all the experience he evidentially has, would he open a diner in suburban LA, and not a high-end restaurant? But it feels kind of intrusive to ask, so Charlotte simply enjoys her food, and her friends’ company.

Up until Vince starts complaining about the exchange student again.

“His name’s Nicholas, he shows up in a week, and mom’s making me clear out the basement so he can sleep there,” he’s despondently poking his milkshake with one of his fries, head propped up on one hand, “I’ve been asking for years if I could move into the basement, and this fucking Nicholas just gets it?” His whole expression scrunches up at the thought, and he angrily eats his fry.

“Wait, so the issue isn’t that you have to clean up the basement, it’s that he gets to use it as a bedroom and you don’t?” Charlotte frowned, lowering her own burger, “why would you even want to sleep in the basement?”

“Privacy!” Vince throws his hands in the air, eyes wide, “Tammi keeps complaining about getting cramps in the back of my car, but my bedroom walls are paper thin,” he huffs, “I need my own space.”

“Tammi?” Peach asks, her voice high and almost painfully chipper, “Tammi Frisk? She scored the winning goal in the softball final, right?” She’s not looking at Vince, when Charlotte looks over to her, she’s looking at her plate of fries, pushing the few left around without eating any, smiling in a way that’s clearly forced.

“You were at the softball final?” Tommy asked, frowning slightly. Peach did not look up.

“For the school paper,” she explained, voice still strange.

“You’re still with Tammi Frisk?” Eileen asks, making sure the disgust is clear in her voice as she draws the table’s attention away from the clearly uncomfortable Peach. Charlotte’s lip curled; she wanted to make sure her expression was as judgmental as possible when Vince turned back to her. 

It’s not that she cared about who he was dating, she was mostly apathetic to Tammi, and knew little more about her than the fact that she was on the softball team, but Charlotte knew Vince had been dating Tammi when he’d decided to crush Peach’s heart publicly at the start of the last semester.

Neither Peach nor Eileen had told any of them exactly how, but apparently Eileen’s hatred was well warranted, both against Vince, and according to Eileen, Tammi too.

Vince, immediately sensing Eileen’s shift in tone, and seeing the look on her face, frowns.

“Kind of,” he responds flatly, and his gaze flicks to Peach, “not really,” he backtracks, and his indignation at the whole situation seems to fizzle out with a sigh, and he slouches, going back to paying attention to his burger, “she’s sort of hanging out with one of the second-string football guys, but they’re not... and we’re not really...” he trails off, despondent once more.

At least Vince seemed to be self-aware of the fact that he was an asshole to Peach, at least he had the decency to feel bad about it. Why he kept inviting Peach to hang out, despite the fact that he knew Eileen, who hated his guts, would come along too - invited or not - baffled Charlotte. 

Tommy was his friend, and a guy, Charlotte was a cheerleader and technically popular, and so was usually begrudgingly invited too, but Peach, sweet Peach, recent Science Fair Winner, junior reporter for the school paper, treasurer for the AV Club, by all accounts ‘a nerd’ when judged by her interests, was still on the guest list of Vince Neil’s life, even if he wouldn’t admit that out loud. 

It kind of made Charlotte want to punch him in the face.

But that’s not news.

“I hope the English exchange student is a decent influence on you,” Charlotte tells him. Vince scowls.

“You sound like my parents.”

you make me want to pretend to be a better man.

Now that school has started back up, Vince has thankfully had his car privileges returned, and Charlotte can return to not glowering in the back seat of Tommy’s car when he picks her up on the way to school, and drops her home on the days they both have practice. 

But it’s Wednesday, first week back, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he’s babbling about practice, or cheerleaders he thinks are pretty, or Lola, but today, he meets Charlotte in the carpark, leaning against the trunk of his car, hands in his pockets, quiet. It’s decidedly unnerving.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” Charlotte asks, yanking the passenger door open once he unlocks it, sliding into the seat and putting her bag by her feet.

“Nothing,” Tommy voice betrays the lie, the thoughts so clearly on his mind that he was trying to avoid talking about. Charlotte won’t push him, if he wanted to tell her, he would, and he usually does, “put on some music, will you?” And Charlotte obligingly opens the glove compartment in front of her to look through the collection of 8track tapes he keeps in there, several of which had been Christmas gifts from Charlotte herself.

Feet on the dashboard, Charlotte’s more than content listening to Bon Jovi, bopping her head to the beat, when Tommy finally finds the words for his thoughts.

“Lola and Nikki Sixx are friends.” 

Up until now, Charlotte was under the impression that Tommy, like her, thought Nikki and Lola would be great as friends, Tommy’s current tone implies otherwise. 

“Is that not good?” Charlotte’s careful about her words, still not sure where Tommy’s hesitation was coming from.

“No, they make sense,” he’s quick to try and backtrack, words spilling from him almost too fast, “they make sense as friends.” He deliberates, before asking, “Charlie, you’re not friends with Nikki Sixx are you?” And it sounds like he already knows the answer. Charlotte hesitates.

“He keeps bothering me during my free periods, I wouldn’t exactly call us friends -”

“He called you Charlie,” its deadpan and accusatory in equal measure, and Charlotte shrinks back into her seat as Tommy keeps talking, “he called me ‘Charlie’s cousin’. It was weird.”

“I thought you wanted to be his friend -” she tries, right as they pull up to a red light, and Tommy fixes her with an unamused look, the only expression that makes him seem older than his years.

“Did you tell him I was obsessed with him?”

“No!” Charlotte snaps, automatically defensive.

“Because I’m not -”

“I never said - I told him you were a fan! That’s all! Like Duff was!” Charlotte tries to clear up, and Tommy looks back at the road, though this time he thankfully looks more pensive than angry. Only Bon Jovi cuts through the tense air between them for the rest of the drive back to Charlotte’s house, and when Tommy pulls up outside, he doesn’t say anything to her when she gets out. 

The next day, like clockwork, fifteen minutes into her free period, Nikki Sixx comes climbing over the school’s fence, into the garden Charlotte had been trying to force herself to study in. In all honesty, she’d been waiting for him, picking at her nail polish beneath the table and reading the same sentence in Moby Dick over and over again.

“Miss Lee,” Nikki nods to her, a little gruffer than usual, “you seem more tense than usual; I can help you with that if you want,” but he still manages to smirk his way through an unsubtle come-on, and Charlotte rolls her eyes, not in the mood for their usual banter.

“I’d rather sit on a cactus,” she tells him icily, without even a teasing edge. Nikki’s eyebrows shoot up at the hostility, and he puts the packet of cigarettes that he’d about to offer her on the table, knowing she’d turn them down anyway, “I thought people weren’t meant to know that we know each other.”

“What people do?” Nikki frowned, raising his lighter to the cigarette between his lips, “is this about yesterday? I talked to your cousin, big deal. Everyone knows you two are related, and everyone knows you,” he looks pointedly to the embroidered logo on her cheer uniform, “I wasn’t even looking for him -”

“Dude,” Charlotte felt as though she was about to tear her hair out, “you called me Charlie to him, people don’t just call me that!”

“Plenty of people call you that! That leggy redhead you’re always hanging around calls you Charlie -”

“My friends call me that -” Charlotte snaps, “and I know you know that’s Eileen Austen.” And Nikki’s wearing a dreamy look, like he’s thinking unholy thoughts about Eileen as Charlotte speaks, before snapping out of it as the first of her words register like a bucket of ice water to the face.

“I’ve called you Charlie before. To your face.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Charlotte tells him dryly, crossing her arms, “it’s less effort if I don’t correct you. We’re so not friends that I don’t even care about correcting you.” Back when this school year started, Charlotte wouldn’t have dreamed saying half the nasty shit she’s thrown at Nikki Sixx, and at some point she may have to confront the idea that being around him has made her meaner, “but did you tell my cousin that I told you he was obsessed with you? Because I never -”

“I said I was glad he was a fan!” Nikki scowled, sitting back and glowering at her across the table, “all I wanted was to ask Lola if she wanted to sit on the roof with the rest of the smokers, and your fuckin’ yappy, dumbass of a cousin -”

Punching someone in the face hurts a lot more than Charlotte had been anticipating, but it’s worth it to see Nikki toppling backwards off of the picnic bench and onto the cold grass. His cigarette lies some few feet away while he lays groaning, clutching his cheek, and Charlotte’s standing, leaning, thighs pressed against the picnic table for support as she’s staring down at him, breathing heavy through her nose while the adrenaline rushes through her system.

“What the fuck, Charlie?”

“Don’t talk shit about Tommy,” her heart’s thundering in her chest, she can feel the blood rushing in her ears, and when she looks at her hand, she sees the skin of one of her knuckles has split enough to draw blood, “he has done fucking nothing to you apart from support you, and think you’re really fucking cool, for whatever dumbass reason, so don’t you dare talk shit about him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nikki groaned, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath after being winded so thoroughly, hand still cradling his cheek. That’s how Charlotte leaves him, slinging her bag onto her shoulder, and stalking towards the library to finish the rest of her free period in peace.

When Tommy drives Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach home after school that day, he’s quiet once again, but it somehow feels completely different to the oppressively accusatory air of the day before. The three girls were chattering away, trying to plan a trip to the mall for the upcoming weekend, and only when Peach and Eileen were waving goodbye in the rearview mirror did Tommy speak up.

“Did you punch Nikki Sixx in the face?” There’s a smile in her cousin’s voice, and Charlotte’s not quite sure how to react.

“I had good reason to,” she says, carefully guarded.

“He said you guys were friends, and then he thanked me for being coming to the gig a while back; told me he’d asked you to bring me specifically,” Tommy’s tone was oozing pride, and if Charlotte had been looking at him, and not frowning out the window, she would have seen how he was all but preening.

“He told you all that?” Charlotte’s anger at her memory’s of the morning’s altercation was fading fast.

“He hung out with me and Lola by the carpark for lunch,” Tommy paused, snorting a laugh, “didn’t want his buddies to find out a cheerleader gave him a black eye.”

“I - what? No I didn’t...” Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and finally she looked at her cousin’s beaming face.

“You definitely did; Lola laughed at him for a full ten minutes because of it.”

“Serves him right,” Charlotte said, with a begrudging little smile.

Nikki sits with Tommy and Lola on Friday too, which Tommy is delighted to inform Charlotte on Saturday while he’s driving them both to Vince’s, where his parents have invited them over to meet the exchange student. Nicholas.

He arrived on Wednesday, but Vince’s parents have given him the rest of the week to settle in, and had invited around the few friends Vince has that they deem to be a positive influence, if only so he knew a few faces around school. 

Charlotte had been picturing some over-gelled boarding-school boy, used to itchy uniforms and strict rules, and about to get a good deal of culture shock hanging around Vince and the rest of their motley little pack, but when Charlotte brings this speculation up in the car, Tommy’s quick to dismiss it. Vince, from the little Tommy had spoken to him in the past two days, was over the moon, claimed that Nicholas - Vince had called him Razzle - was amazing. If Charlotte felt an quiet sense of foreboding at that sentiment, she felt it was justified.

The first thing either of them hear after being directed down to the basement by Vince’s mother, is Alice Cooper playing almost obnoxiously loud; Charlotte’s not sure why, but it eases something in her chest. 

Nicholas’s - Razzle’s? - room, first and foremost, is possibly the coolest bedroom Charlotte’s ever been in. He’s decked it out with movie and band posters, though most of the band’s she’s never heard of. There’s string-lights above a desk, a bed crammed into one corner with a bright duvet, and even a sofa, and a few beanbags all crowded around a low, wooden table that had mostly been taken up with a record player, which is where they found their friends. 

The name Razzle suited him, Charlotte considered, as she took in the newcomer’s appearance, all spiked up dark hair and ostentatious clothing, animatedly telling a story while Peach and Vince hung onto his every word. He looked almost wild, like collection of half-thought ideas all vying to become a reality through the texture of his clothes, the height of his hair, the hint of amusement that tailed his words, the passion shining in the blue of his eyes when they flicked to look at her and her cousin, standing on the stairs and watching him.

His words grow quiet as he takes them in, as if waiting for something to happen, for someone to introduce them.

“You must be Charlie and Tommy!” His accent, thick and bright, made her nickname sound so familiar on his lips.

“Charlotte,” Vince corrects, giving a surprisingly respectful nod to Charlotte, who tries to shrug nonchalantly.

“Charlie’s fine. You’re,” and Charlotte hesitates for a moment, ignoring Vince’s eyeroll, “Razzle, right?” Razzle’s smile is blinding at her immediate use of the nickname, and he waves them in.

Peach throws Tommy a cushion from the sofa when he asks, and he settles himself on the floor next to Vince, while Peach and Eileen squeeze over to make room for Charlotte on the sofa clearly only made for two people.

“I was just telling these guys ‘bout my band’s very first gig, ‘nd how I had to sneak out just to get there,” Razzle settled back into his own beanbag, hands out and ready to return to his story, eyes still shining with anticipation at the memory, or possibly just glad to have an audience. 

Oh, Charlotte thought, looking at this boy she barely knew, already fighting off a smile in the face of his infectious enthusiasm, maybe Vince was becoming a better judge of character.

“You’re in a band?” Tommy’s eyes light up, and Charlotte gives her cousin a fond smile; Razzle has already won his seal of approval.

we need more good crazy. it'd be nice to watch the news, and think, 'that's fucking insane', but feel a little jealous instead of just alone.

Heather hasn’t been glowering as much at lunch, and the rumour is that it’s because she’s getting laid. Well, it’s less of a rumour to Charlotte, since Heather confirmed as much to the rest of the cheer squad when one of the girls asked her, but she’s being coy and secretive about who she’s with, which is the really weird part; Heather won’t say, and no-one’s coming forward, and lord knows that most guys at their school would jump at the opportunity to claim they’re banging the Vice Captain of the Cheerleading Squad. 

But Charlotte knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and instead just smiles back when Heather gives her a sunny smile in the cafeteria.

Tommy is less than thrilled with the news when Charlotte brings it up in the car after school. Nikki’s still sitting with him and Lola during lunch, despite his bruising going down considerably over the weekend, and Tommy is equal parts delighted and uncomfortable, for reasons he can’t seem to put into words. 

“At least Pam’s single,” he says it with as much of a dreamy sigh as he can manage, though it comes out more forlorn than anything else. Charlotte pets his shoulder, and reminds him that so is over half the squad; he perks up a little at that. 

They pull into Mick’s gas station, and Charlotte waves to Mick and Lola, who are sitting on the step by the door sharing a cigarette. Lola waves back.

“Meant to give this to you,” Lola says to Charlotte, still sitting while Mick begrudgingly heads inside. Tommy follows him in, not needing to fill up the tank, but rather just looking to drown his sorrows regarding Heather in a jumbo slurpee. Outside, Charlotte waits with her hands in her pockets, giving Lola an amused smile, watching as the dark haired girl pulls a pin off of the jacket she practically lives in, and hands it over.

It’s a piece of black card stock cut into the shape of a star, barely an inch in diameter, taped to a safety pin. It say Punched Nikki Sixx in silver pen, one of the points of the star already a little bit crumpled. 

“You’re a little bit punk, so you get a pin,” Lola tells her, smiling around her cigarette, looking quietly pleased, and perhaps even a little bit proud; whether of herself or of Charlotte, Charlotte can’t tell, but it still makes her flush.

“I thought Nikki didn’t want anyone knowing that a cheerleader gave him a black eye,” Charlotte mused, looking at the little pin, and Lola’s face scrunched up, expression falling.

“So? Who gives a shit?” She shrugs, looking away tone having shifted to almost forcibly neutral in an instant, “wear the pin or don’t, I don’t care.” Lola stands with a groan, without giving Charlotte a chance to respond, and calls to Mick that she’s heading to the diner. Mick waves, Tommy calls out a farewell, and Charlotte frowns, wondering what just happened.

“I hate that,” Nikki says flatly, the moment he spots the pin where Charlotte’s fixed it to the strap of her backpack. There’s no hard feelings between them after last week’s altercation, thankfully, though they don’t talk about it. If Charlotte’s glad that he still showed up, if she’s realised she may, in fact, enjoy his company, she keeps that information to herself.

“Lola made it for me,” Charlotte tells him. Nikki leans in, squinting at the handmade pin.

“Of course she did,” he sighs, leaning back. Surprisingly, there’s quiet between them for a few, long moments; maybe, Charlotte considers, this will be one of those mornings where Nikki uses their time together to catch up on sleep, and Charlotte can actually use her free period for it’s intended, study-related purpose, but then Nikki sighs like he wants her to ask what’s wrong.

So she does.

“I need a new band.”

“I can’t help you.”

“I know,” Nikki nods with resignation, “I was gonna ask this guy I work with, Slash, he plays guitar, but he’s already in one -”

“Wait, you don’t mean Duff’s friend Saul Hudson, do you?” Charlotte frowned, intrigued despite the stab of anger she felt at the mere mention of her ex. Nikki seemed taken aback by her question.

“You know Duff McKagan?”

“I dated him for a year and a half,” Charlotte finds herself suddenly very interested in drawing connecting triangles in the back of her notebook, not looking at Nikki, who’s quietly processing this information.

“He’s in a band now,” and neither of them seem to be quite sure why he offered that information, but they both let is hang between them for a moment.

“Makes sense,” Charlotte nods, tone flat, “with Saul - Slash?”

“Yeah,” is all Nikki has to say.

“Slash is a good kid, I always liked him,” Charlotte offered, and finally she looks up, “Tommy plays drums.”

“Marching band isn’t exactly -” Nikki begins, but Charlotte’s shaking her head.

“No, like, legit drums,” she enthuses, “his parents fixed up their whole garage to make it sound proof for him,” but she doesn’t want Nikki to think she’s pushing her cousin on him too hard, not after last week, so she sits back, and crosses her arms, trying to play it cool, “I mean, you can ask him yourself, see if he’s any good.” She shrugs, but Nikki looks like he’s already considering it. 

“How many musicians do you know, Charlie?” He finally asks, giving her a faint, amused smile.

“Probably too many,” Charlotte responds with a longsuffering smile, before her mind turns to the things Tommy himself had told her, “I heard you and Lola are getting along; what’d I tell you?” She teased, and much to her surprise, what she could see of Nikki’s face, for his hair, was turning pink.

“She’s a bitch; you know she’s a bitch, right?” He asks, but he’s grinning, all sharp and dangerously amused.

“I knew you guys would get along,” Charlotte gives a pleased little sigh, as if she’d manufactured their whole friendship herself. Nikki rolls his eyes at her, and the bell goes.

Tommy, as it turns out, thinks they’re sleeping together, at least that’s what he tells Charlotte when they’re on their way to Leo’s after school to meet up with Vince, Razzle, Peach, and Eileen. The news of Nikki and Lola’s potential affair surprises Charlotte at first, but after a moment of consideration, she thinks she should have seen it coming. 

Tommy’s reasoning is that they’ve become friends far quicker than he’d realised, and Nikki’s always giving Lola lifts after work, like they’re going in the same direction, even though he’d pretty sure Nikki doesn’t live near Leo’s. It also turns out that that was what had been bothering him about Nikki and Lola being friends; he still tries to insist he doesn’t have a crush on Lola, but he and Charlotte both know that’s mostly a lie.

So Charlotte can see how conflicted he is when he tells her that Nikki’s looking to start a new band, and that he asked about Tommy possibly playing drums. A beat of silence follows, and then, without looking away from the road, Tommy mutters a quiet thanks, knowing without asking that Charlotte had been the one to recommend him. Charlotte leans over and bumps her forehead against his shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment. 

“Duff’s in a band,” Charlotte’s voice is soft and a little unreadable.

“Sorry,” Tommy mutters, tone somber like it’s the worst news in the world, “we could throw rotten tomatoes at him?” He suggested, at the mental picture alone was enough to make Charlotte laugh, “or is that just in the movies?”

“I think that’s just in the movies,” Charlotte says, amid giggles, “besides, the rest of his band doesn’t deserve that.”

In the week that Razzle’s been in LA, Vince and his family have taken him to several, sophisticated restaurants in the vicinity, and Razzle had apparently loved them all; Leo’s was no different. He was sitting across from Charlotte in the booth, at the end of the table, reading the menu intently as the others chattered away about their day, making noises of intrigue every time he spotted something new he wanted to try. His knee knocked hers under the table, but it barely seemed to register, so engrossed in the menu that he muttered the faintest apology.

“Afternoon, guys, welcome,” Lola at work never failed to startle Charlotte, despite the fact that she’d been here once already since the first time. At least her chipper introduction seemed to bring Razzle back to reality. 

“Hi, yes - oh! I know you!” Razzle lit up at the sight of Lola, and the rest of the gathered teens watched with interest, trying not to give away how intrigued they were to see Lola’s reaction, “Miss Honky Cat, you work here?”

What?

“Alright, Razzle, you found me, did you wanna order something?” Lola says, with a good-natured eyeroll, and an easy grin, hip cocked to one side. Razzle asks her what she recommends, and orders that, and then the rest of them, who had been sitting in stunned silence, are quick to order for themselves.

When she leaves, it’s mere moments before Tommy asks what that was all about, and Razzle’s eyes go wide.

“That’s Lola, innit? From school? She’s in my music class, was playing Honky Cat on the piano in the second music room, the Elton song, you know, when we had some free this morning,” he explained, confused, “she called me Rocketman when I picked what she’d been playing, but I told her my name’s Razzle.” 

“You’re an enigma,” ironically, it’s Eileen who says this, wearing a fond little smile, while Razzle just looked bemused.

“I think it’s the accent, chicks fuckin’ love it,” Vince pipes up, smirking, and Razzle tries to hide his own pleased little grin since he can’t very well deny it, “Pam was all over him in Phys Ed yesterday -”

“We were just having a conversation -” Razzle was quickly turning red, while Vince clutched at his arm, putting on a high voice, twirling his blonde hair around one finger as he pretended to be Pam.

“Oh Nicholas, tell me more about The Clash, please, I want to know more!” He ended with a fake moan, which had Eileen and Peach laughing, while Razzle grabbed Charlotte’s hand and exaggeratedly mouthed ‘help me’. 

“Pam’s into Razzle?” Tommy groaned, breaking the moment, falling dejectedly against Vince, who was already leaning pretty heavily on Razzle, who was then ejected from his seat and onto the floor, while Vince was draped over where he was just sitting, and Tommy was draped over Vince, “I’m gonna die alone.”

Despite Tommy’s despair, the rest of the table was greatly amused.

Thankfully for Razzle, it wasn’t a far fall, and he’d held tight to Charlotte’s hand, so at least he hadn’t ended up flat on his back, and Charlotte gave him an apologetic grin as she helped him to his feet. He lets go to dust himself off, and it’s here Charlotte notices his maroon, velvet pants, and black and white leather shoes with their little heel.

“Fancy threads,” Charlotte points out, notes of approval in her voice. Razzle makes a move to straightening a jacket he’s not wearing, and clicks his heels together, drawing the attention of the rest of the table to his shoes, of which they all make various noises of approval, or at least interest.

“I dress to impress,” and judging by his tone, if he were as crass as Vince or Nikki, he would have winked, but Charlotte’s kind of glad he refrained. He then shoves Vince, and by extension Tommy, back up to a sitting position, retaking his seat across from Charlotte, this time purposefully knocking his knee against hers.

Charlotte’s glad that Lola’s back with their drinks, so she can look at something that’s not Razzle’s sunny smile, because she doesn’t want to think about how pretty it makes him look. Stupid, British, band boy and his stupid, blue eyes.

But then she’s looking at Lola, and all she can remember is Tommy’s dejected expression when he told her that Lola and Nikki were possibly sleeping together, and Nikki’s half-hidden, bashful grin when he calls a bitch with a kind of fondness that Charlotte had never heard from him before. The urge to protect her cousin, from harm, from heartbreak, is carved into her bones, but part of her knows it would him hurt more to let him keep falling for Lola when she’d never really end up catching him. Suddenly staring into the depths of her soda became the safest option.

i have loved since you. but when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath.

Heather, of all people, is holding a party, and she tries to limit the amount of people she tells - the squad and her friends were the first to be invited - but of course, the guest list spirals out of control, and it’s exactly one and a half days before Tommy’s mooning over the fact that he’s been invited to a party at an actual cheerleader’s house.

“Dude, you’re killing me here,” Charlotte tells him at lunch; she’s finally sitting with him, Lola, and Nikki, though Nikki’s late. Heather had coyly asked her to ask Vince to bring Razzle - the cute English guy, specifically - and Charlotte had picked up her bag and left. Something about Heather in a good mood was worse than when she was being catty.

“You don’t count, you’re my cousin,” Tommy waived her off, and Lola snorted a laugh from where she was laying in the grass, using her backpack as a pillow. “You going?” Tommy pokes Lola in the ribs and she smacks his hand away, but makes an affirmative noise, and throws her arm over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

Something about how that makes Tommy smile, almost pleased, has worry sinking heavy in Charlotte’s gut. 

“Heather asked me to ask Vince to invite Razzle,” Charlotte’s not quite sure why she says it, or why it makes Lola bark a laugh of her own, but at least it get’s Tommy’s mind off of last time he and Lola were at a party.

“Of course -” Tommy sighs, but then, in the very same breath, he lights up like a lightbulb, “wait! If Heather’s preoccupied with Razzle, and Pam’s going, then I -” he turned sharply to Charlotte, eyes wide, “is Pam seeing anyone?” Charlotte gives him an amused, but longsuffering look, shaking her head.

“You gonna put the moves on her?” Lola’s smirking, and Tommy’s steadily turning red, but refusing to be embarrassed.

“It’s now or never, you know? She’s graduating in a few months, will go to college and date some meathead, college footballer, this is my chance,” he enthused, and Charlotte pet his shoulder in solidarity. 

Nikki joins them halfway through lunch, right as Lola and Charlotte find themselves playing angel and devil on Tommy’s shoulders regarding how he should dress for the party. Charlotte’s firmly of the opinion that he should be be wearing bright, eye-catching things - “Come on, you know Pam likes those new-wave guys!” - while Lola was adamantly recommending to go all-out punk. 

“Don’t ask Nikki’s opinion, you know who he’s going to side with,” Charlotte implored, and as if to prove a point, Nikki throws his bag to the side, and lays down with his head pillowed on Lola’s stomach. 

“Because Nikki has taste,” Lola throws her arm above her head, into the grass, neck at an awkward angle as she looks, wide-eyed to Tommy. 

“Thank you,” Nikki grumbles, and immediately closes his eyes, “what are we arguing about?” A pause, then, “and why is Charlie here?”

“Heather asked Charlie to bring Razz to the party next weekend,” Tommy says, the words sounding rote off his tongue, before he gets into the meat of the argument, laying himself back in the grass. Somehow it makes Charlotte feel left out, being the only one left marginally upright, and she slouches a little lower against the fence. 

Tommy explains his conundrum, and much to everyone’s surprise, Nikki refrains from giving his opinion, sighting that he has no clue what Pam would like, and that he’s not taking the fall if Tommy looks like a dickhead and crashes and burns while talking to, arguably, the most popular girl in school.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole,” Tommy groans, without really thinking, and as the realization and subsequent horror took over his expression, Lola barked a laugh, and even Nikki was grinning.

The moment was surprisingly light, Tommy’s face buried in his hands, though he’s now hiding a smile, and Charlotte is surprised at how easy it is to smile and laugh here, these people accepting her presence without another thought. The politics of the cafeteria make it all feel so foreign, but Tommy said ‘Charlie’s sitting here now’ and Nikki and Lola took it in stride.

And later, Eileen will ask her where she was at lunch, will go on to sigh and roll her eyes as she recounts barely sitting through five minutes of the cheerleaders buzzing like cheerful, little hornets, discussing who would be at the party, and how they would coordinate their outfits. She’d spent another five minutes with the swim team, who spent the entire time picking apart her backstroke technique since she ‘finally decided to join them’.

“This is why I don’t sit with them,” Eileen had frowned, sitting in the McDonalds carpark, absentmindedly violating her soda with it’s straw out of frustration, Charlotte, wide-eyed, quietly eats her terrible, oily fries, and lets Eileen vent, “if I have to listen to one more five-am-gym-going-wannabe-sports-scholarship tell me my form is off, I’m going to go full Carrie-At-The-Prom at our next meet,” Eileen warned, and reached over to snatch a fry. Very few people were ever privy to Eileen’s frustration, as the redhead seemed to do a rather good job of bottling it up, but Charlotte personally felt honored that her friend could be so honest around her.

“I was thinking of joining yearbook, maybe? Or the school paper with...” a strange moment of hesitation, “with Peach,” Eileen paused, taking a long moment to think, and take a sip of her drink, eyes glass as she stared out at the highway as cars passed before them, “auditions for the school play are on Friday,” she adds, like she’s seriously considering it, “it’s Singin’ In The Rain, Keanu actually suggested I should audition.” The idea that Keanu and Eileen have talked enough for him to suggest that she audition for a musical and for her to serious consider it is kind of baffling; Charlotte doesn’t process the meaning behind any of this now, however, just files it away in the back of her mind for later.

“Macy moved to Portland over the Summer,” Charlotte feigns seriousness with her suggestion instead, trying not to give away how amused she is, already anticipating Eileen’s response, “we’re holding cheer tryouts to replace her on Tuesday,” Eileen’s expression is already souring, almost comedically disgusted at Charlotte’s implied suggestion, though she lets the blonde finish, “you were the best bottom-right to the pyramid we’ve ever had,” she said, barely stifling giggles as Eileen turns to her.

“I’d rather die,” her lip curled, and Charlotte leaned over the center console of the minivan to press her forehead against Eileen’s shoulder, and Eileen reaches up with her free hand to scratch gently at Charlotte’s scalp, before bursting out with, “and my form’s not even bad! The coach loves me, Charlie, she loves me, they just think they’re better than me, bunch of clique-y, insular, webbed-toe bitches.”

The words hang in the air, a surprising outburst from the usually reserved and thoughtful girl.

“Do they really have webbed toes?” Charlotte asks, turning so her temple still pressed against the soft cashmere of Eileen’s sweater, but she was following the ginger’s gaze out to the highway ahead. Eileen gives a tired, little laugh, as if her outburst had left her exhausted.

“No.”

Charlotte wants more than anything to ask her what’s wrong, but knows better than anyone that Eileen only says exactly what she wants someone else to know. Instead, she offers her fries silently. Eileen takes one.

“Peach and I got into a fight today,” voice barely above a whisper, Eileen follows her words with a sigh, and suddenly her out of character frustration made complete, and utter sense. For all that she’s known both Peach and Eileen, Charlotte has never known their altercations to be quick or painless affairs, “Vince invited her to Heather’s party.”

“He invited her himself?” Charlotte’s not sure what the issue is beyond their general dislike of Vince, but if Vince himself is starting to possibly change, then it’s hard to see the issue. 

“Yeah,” Eileen seems to know what Charlotte’s thinking, and pauses to find the right words, “I don’t trust him, and I don’t know how she can trust him either.” There’s a quality to her voice that Charlotte’s only heard rarely; uncertainty, “and I don’t want her going to Heather’s party, I barely want to go myself, and what if she drinks, and what if she does terrible things she regrets -?” Eileen cuts herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning her head back against the headrest.

“I get it,” Charlotte says, so gentle, so understanding, but Eileen’s still quiet.

“She’s my little sister, Charlie,” Eileen sighed, “and it’s like our parents couldn’t care less, so I have to protect her, and I have to keep her from the guy she thinks is the love of her life, and I have to be the one to always remind her of all the shitty things he’s done and remind her that life isn’t a goddamn fairytale.” She sounds close to tears, soda cup between her knees and hands clutching, white knuckled, at the steering wheel, or else she may have been tearing her hair out. 

There was a shake in her voice, tight and exhausted in equal measure, like the words had sat, unspoken, pressed against her teeth, for far longer than Charlotte had realized she’d been thinking them. Charlotte rests her hand on Eileen’s. 

“She loves you more than anyone else in the world, you know that right? She’s just sixteen, you know all the drama and shit we went through last year -”

“I can’t watch her go through what you went through with Duff,” the words escaped Eileen in a rush, and she clamps her mouth shut, sitting forward in the driver’s seat, lips pressed into a thin line, as Charlotte’s heart sank in her chest, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Charlotte sat back in her own seat, nodding dejectedly, fiddling with her bracelet. 

“You... Charlie, you know you’re my best friend, and I love you, and seeing you in pain with no way to help,” Eileen’s hands slid down the sides of the steering wheel as she forced herself to relax, though her words have Charlotte’s heart swelling with fondness, “it fucking killed me,” she admitted, leaning back, letting her shoulders sags with the weight of her words, like the weight of the world, and as she leaned back, she looked to Charlotte, so unguarded, so sincere, “I can’t let Vince break Peach’s heart like that.”

Eileen has always looked and seemed older than her seventeen years, but it’s strange to see her like this, to be reminded that she holds within her this unassuming duality. To protect is her first instinct, herself, her feelings, her friends, her family, but she’s still so young, just a kid; she still deserves to be protected too.

“I’m so tired,” Eileen murmurs, gaze dropping to her hands, now folded in her lap, and she huffs a humorless laugh, “I’m seventeen, Charlie, I’m fucking tired of feeling thirty.”

[puckmeupfam]

The Right to Be Jealous | Jake Virtanen

Word Count: 3177 Note: Friends with benefits to lovers with the one and only. I feel like everything I write is same ice cream different cone, but I like to give the people what I want.

Sitting in the shadowed booth, your nails dug into the faux leather upholstery. Everyone else was out dancing and laughing loudly on the sticky floor. They were relaxed, blowing off steam, singing along to the ‘00s pop throwback that was blasting. You just stayed glaring daggers at your vodka cran that had slowly become watered down by the ice, shedding a puddle of condensation. There was one other member of the Canucks posse who was not on the dance floor: Jake was standing with his elbow on the bar while his eyes were on the woman perched on the barstool. In your desperation, you had even tried that body language deciphering trick of looking at his feet just to find them pointed towards her as well. 

Jake was free to do whatever he wants, you told yourself, you have no hold over him. The two of you met shortly after you moved to Vancouver for school. At first, you were friends but nothing more. Yes, you found each other attractive, that was clear. But you were much more compatible at making sarcastic jokes and counseling each other through life’s daily mindfucks than anything else. Then, Jake started inviting you as his plus one to events and parties, he had found that everyone had a tendency to pair off at those events and he wasn’t a fan of not having anyone’s attention. That’s how it started, him shushing you because you were incapable of keeping your voice down and you saving him whenever he got caught in a boring, bureaucratic conversation. 

And that’s how it went until last year’s Halloween party.

You both drank more than usual. And maybe the catalyst was him placing his hand on your bare thigh where the costume had ridden up. Or maybe it was you lamenting about how long it had been since you had gotten laid. But probably it was him tying a knot in that damn cherry stem. No matter how it happened, you found yourself being pulled by the wrist down the hallway of his building. Both of you drunk and giggly. When you stepped into his apartment, he spun you around so your back was flush against the cold door. He spent a minute staring down at you, not laughing anymore. You let yourself get lost in his bright eyes that kept flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it you brought your hand up to his face and stroked your thumb along the apple of his cheek. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed you, hard. The hand on his face went to wrap around his neck while the one previously at your side ended up tangled in his hair. You tasted booze and hints of sweet grape from jello shots as he licked your lip. When you opened your mouth there was something else on his tongue which you classified as “fuck-why-have-we-been-doing-anything-but-this.” No matter what the catalyst was you were gone.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache and messy hair. On your right, Jake was sprawled on his stomach with one tattooed arm thrown over your hip. As you started to shift he groaned and tightened his hold on you. Reaching over to scratch your nails against his scalp, you spoke in a scratchy voice, “I’m just getting coffee, you big baby.” When you came back with the mugs full of steaming liquid, Jake’s with an extra splash of cream, you both sat against the headboards quietly. Minutes passed but it was Jake who broke the silence, “(Y/N), you know, I’m so sorry,” he said in a nervous jumble. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn’t that. 

“I just really, really don’t want to fuck us up. You’re so important to me and I just can’t not talk to you every day. It’s not something I can live with,” he continued. When you peered over at him he wasn’t looking back at you but rather locking his eyes on a chip on his mug that he worried with his thumb. Your chest felt tight and your chin wobbled a bit. If Jake was trying not to ruin your friendship then you would have to try too. So you steeled your emotions and forced your hands not to shake as you brought the mug to your lips.

And that was that. 

Until the holiday party. Where the same thing happened, except the next morning he didn’t say anything. Instead, when you moved to get coffee he held your wrist back and insisted he take you out to a diner. While you would really rather him not tell you that last night was a mistake in front of witnesses, you still threw on a hoodie and did your best to tame your hair though you didn’t bother attempting anything for the dark circles under your eyes. The surprising part was that when you got to the diner he didn’t say anything about the night prior. He even went so far as to order for you before you could even open your mouth. Caramel french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar. And when the food came to your table, he even went so far as to nudge the syrup in your direction. 

He never brought it up. And he didn’t the next day. Or the next. But then he pulled you into a corner at Bo’s New Year’s Eve party, planting his lips on yours until you found yourself slipping out the door with him with over thirty minutes remaining until midnight. Whether you liked it or not once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three was a pattern, and after that… Well, you had simply stopped counting once you got to eleven. Stopped trying to make sense of it. Just went with it.

You’re broken from your memories by Troy and Emma coming back to the table to get their things. With the night winding down and your group dispersing, some realities occurred to you. Jake had picked you up at your apartment earlier in the evening and both of you had planned that he would take you home at the end of the night. Apparently, he had forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care. You weren’t sure which was worse: being thrown to the side for a blonde at the bar or being such a blip on your best friend’s radar that he would totally forget about your existence.

“Hey, would you guys be able to give me a ride home by any chance?” you asked, drawing their attention to you. The couple shared a look before nodding along. You grabbed your bag and jacket before scurrying out of the booth and following behind them, not sparing Jake a glance. Slipping into the backseat of Troy’s car, you reminded him of your address. They had the radio turned up lowly so you could vaguely hear the tune but not quite catch the lyrics. You looked at your phone for a few moments before Emma spoke. 

“Didn’t Jake drive you?” You held in a sigh at her loaded question. While you had never spoken about your situation with Jake to anyone, not even Jake himself, you knew other people noticed that there was something going on between the two of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly cautious, nothing you and Jake did was well thought out, the two of you had surely drunkenly made out in too bright of a corner or stumbled out the door a bit too loudly. And everyone had likely discussed whatever the two of you were doing after you left. And Jake might have even talked about your situation during late-night card games on roadies. And… You snapped yourself out of the weird self-analyzing pity show to answer Emma and save yourself from hyperventilating in your friends’ car.

“He did,” you began, “but he was… busy, and I didn’t want to get in his way.” You were sitting behind Emma so you had a much better view of Troy as he reacted to your answer. He squinted before looking over at his girlfriend with a raised brow. Emma’s only response was a mumbled, “Oh.” 

As Troy pulled up in front of your building, you were glad that they didn’t push further. You thanked them profusely for the ride before jumping out and speed walking into your apartment. You closed and locked the door as soon as you got in before pouring yourself a glass of water. One glance at your phone showed that you had many texts waiting for you and one flash of Jake’s name had you powering the device all the way off and plugging it in. You wiped your makeup off and rubbed in your favorite rich moisturizer. Even though it was still fairly early, you felt exhausted with emotions that you shouldn’t have. Nevertheless, you took a melatonin gummy for good measure and brushed your teeth before encasing yourself in blankets and waiting for sleep.

When you woke up to the morning sun on your face, you got up purposefully avoiding your phone. After drinking a cup of coffee you decided to cook a healthy breakfast. Maybe if you detoxed your body a bit it would help to detox Jake from your mind. When you were finished you sat at the counter. You couldn’t stop flashing through every moment with Jake, looking for hidden meanings in his actions and replaying his words to search for anything valuable. It was like you couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the emotional pain. You weren’t sure how much time passed before you tasted metal and realized you had been chewing up your lip in thought. 

This simply wouldn’t work. No more wallowing, you decided. Cleaning up the pans and dishes you had used with a bit more elbow grease than you would typically use you shoved everything back in its typical place. You stopped yourself for a minute as something occurred to you. While you wished it had been an epiphany about moving on or signing up for online dating, you realized that your kitchen organization was completely lacking. Your pots were nowhere near your stove. Your cups weren’t close enough to your sink. Your pantry was a disaster.

Without any hesitation, you started pulling everything out of the cabinets. Before you knew it your counters were covered in plates, glasses, mugs, pans, and a rice cooker. You had just started alphabetizing your spices when you heard a knock on your door. With a loud groan, you ran to the door and swung it open without even looking through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was none other than Jake Virtanen. You stilled your frenzied movements to just stare at him. His eyes were sharp as they studied your face. 

“Can I come in,” you barely heard his words but they somehow woke you up and you opened the door wider before spinning around and racing back into your kitchen. Your heart pounded wildly as you went back to work. Nerves coursed through your veins so you weren’t being productive but rather picking up an item and setting it down in a slightly different place. The sound of Jake’s footsteps followed you and you could feel him hovering.

“Um… (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He paused for a minute to watch you scramble around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I honestly have no idea.” You huffed and forced your hands to still on the counter top.

“I’m organizing my kitchen.” You forced your face into an expression that could be read as ‘duh’ but given your flushed cheeks and wild eyes, it didn’t seem to translate. 

“Can we talk about what happened last night,” Jake asked. While you hadn’t assumed this was a typical social visit, his question reignited your panic and you resumed your pottering around the kitchen. At first, Jake just seemed bewildered but after a loud clang erupted from two pots you were moving from one side of the counter to the other his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl and he snapped, “(Y/N), do you mind?” 

You threw up your hands and turned to him as he continued, “I want to talk to you and have you actually listen like a normal person instead of doing… whatever it is that you’re doing over there.”

“Talk about what,” you asked, partially trying to buy time and partially trying to seem blase.

“About last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, Jake.”

“I watched you leave with Troy and Emma. You just left, (Y/N).”

“So? You were busy, I wanted to go home.” Without you even realizing it, Jake was taking steps towards you until you glanced up from the floor to find him right in front of you. He reached out his hand to hold your arm. Whether he was trying to comfort you or prevent you from escaping you weren’t sure. The spot where his skin met yours sent tingles down your spine that you forced yourself not to react to.

“When you left, I called Troy,” he said. Now this was news to you. Before you could interject Jake spoke again, “I had been trying to text and call you but you weren’t answering so I finally called Troy. He said you left without me because of that girl.” You tried to pull away but his hand around your arm tightened.

“You were jealous,” Jake said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You glared at him, you couldn’t believe that he would come to your apartment just to embarrass you about your feelings for him.

“I wasn’t jealous. I have no right to be jealous about what or who you do,” you snapped. He threw his head back and sighed.

“That’s the fucking point, (Y/N). I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

Your heart stopped. Your mind stopped. You looked up at him just to see his eyes boring into yours. 

“What,” you asked hazily.

“You heard me. I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

“B-but what does that mean?”

“It means… I love you, okay? I love you and I want to be with you and I want you to be jealous even though you don’t ever have to be. Because you’re the only one I see in a crowded room. Because every time we go to a wedding I imagine it’s us standing up there in front of our friends and family. Because I can’t fucking stand being away from you. Because you’re the most important person in my life,” he said emphatically, vehemently. 

“You love me?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), I love you,” he said with a smile on his face. This all felt so confusing and so surreal and you wanted to pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real life. In real life, Jake was the one who decided that the two of you were friends with benefits. Jake was the one who didn’t want to take it any further. Jake was the one who talked with girls at bars.

“Since when,” you murmured. Jake’s smile only brightened.

“Since always,” he told you.

“But, Jake, you said you didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You never seemed like you wanted to take us any further, where is this coming from?” At your words, Jake released your arm and rubbed his palm along his face. The tables turned and now he was the one pacing through your kitchen.

“I thought you wanted that. I thought you were going to tell me that it was all a mistake, that you didn’t really like me.” His words made your stomach squeeze and it felt like you had been slapped in the face. As much as you wished you could wrap your arms around him and kiss him madly, telling him that of course you wouldn’t do that. Because he was Jake and you were you and that would never be a mistake. But you knew that if you fell into him now you wouldn’t get clarity, so you pushed on. “Then what have we been doing? If you were so scared, if you really felt that way, why did we keep happening?” 

Jake stopped his pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets. He refused to look at you, trailing his eyes along the mess in your kitchen and the pictures on your fridge before settling on the floor.

“I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I thought that if that was all I could have with you it would still be better than nothing,” his words were quiet but you still heard him. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and you opened your mouth to speak before Jake interrupted you.

“But then I called Troy last night asking where you were, what happened to you… and he said that you liked me too and I needed to snap out of whatever I was doing and man up,” he brought his eyes up to yours, “he said he was sick of me whining about you like a lovesick puppy and that I needed to, quote, go get my girl.”

His eyes read nothing but love and sincerity. You trusted and believed him. You didn’t want to stumble around your feelings anymore so you stepped forward until you were chest to chest.

“I love you too, Jake,” you said drawing your hand up to his neck. His face erupted into a smile, but instead of leaning in to kiss you, he spoke.

“Do you want to do this thing with me?” Your responding laugh was watery but he waited for your response.

“What? Being in love?”

“Well, yes, that’s pretty important. But I meant being in a real relationship. Y’know? Hold hands in public, change our relationship statuses on Facebook, the whole deal.”

“You don’t even use Facebook,” you teased. He groaned dramatically but the smile seemed to be glued to his face.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “do you want to do this thing with me?”

Jake’s eyes sparkled and you bit your lip. You didn’t deign his question with a response, just brought the hand that rested on his neck down so you could capture his lips in a kiss. For a few blissful moments, it was just you and him. You arched your back to press yourself more fully against him as he planted one hand on your hip as the other snaked up your back. As he moved to press scorching hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat he broke the silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You pulled on his hair until his mouth was back against yours and you whispered against his lips an answering yes.

And if Troy Stecher whistled and hooted an “I told you so,” when you and Jake showed up to the next Canucks gathering, hands tightly intertwined… well, would he be wrong?

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS.  ( 1 )

Summary:  Cthugha explains a little more about who he is and why he’s there--  besides the obvious, of course. Warnings:  N/A. Notes:  Yes, nouns like ‘Balance’ and ‘Universe’ are capitalised on purpose.

    THE  STRANGER  NAVIGATED  the precinct as if he’d been there before.  He wound his way through tables like a snake, ignoring the curious glances that officers shot him as he passed.  As he reached Kuro's office, the Sheriff was almost convinced that he was the one who didn't know his way around the station.

    "Oh,"   the boy mused, head tilted upwards in the direction of his corkboard.  It was littered with different coloured post-it notes and twine, Kuro’s neat block letters bold against their garish backdrop.   "An upgrade for sure."

    "Who are you?"   Kuro asked slowly, enunciating every word as he stared at him intensely.  Part of him felt that he should recognise him.  Perhaps it was the familiarity that he'd been approached with.

    "My name is Cthugha.  I came from the future,"   he replied nonchalantly, arms tucked behind his back as he looked over the board.  He winced slightly upon seeing one of the names on one of the many sticky tabs.   "You never find that one, by the way."

    "Excuse me?"    Now he felt irked.   "That's a real case, y'know.  This girl's really missing.  That's somebody's daughter."

    "Unfortunate,"   Cthugha said, his tone a fraction softer.

    "She ain't fodder fer yer li'l sideshow.  She's a real person 'n' she's Raku-knows-where.  Y'don't have the right to t'be involvin' her in yer stunt."

    The look that Cthugha shot over his shoulder was cold.  After a beat of silence:   "Her name is Olivia Brannon.  She went missing a week ago.  You found her things in a field directly adjacent to the subway tunnel--  her dorm keys, student ID and textbooks--  but you have no further leads.  You think that she's playing hooky with a boyfriend she's keeping a secret from her overbearing parents--  that she threw her belongings as a student away to pursue a life with him in private--  but he's still in town and hasn't seen her either.  You’ve pursued him for questioning but he’s come back clean as a whistle.  He even has an iron-clad alibi under his belt!  You don't know where else to look, so you trawl through town like a dog sniffing for blood, only to find nothing.  The case eventually goes cold."   A thin smile shaped his lips as he took in Kuro's stupefied expression, impatient and derisive.   "How's that for a stunt, Sheriff Braav?"

    "H-How did you--"

    "What part of 'the future' do you not understand?"

    A thick blanket of silence befell them, and Kuro found himself leaning against the wall for balance.  Just five minutes ago, it had been a typical Tuesday morning.  Now, it felt as if his world was teetering to one side, his pulse an electrical current that thrummed in each temple.  It wasn't easy to bewilder him after all that he'd seen, but this curious stranger had achieved it in a matter of minutes.  How else was he supposed to react to being told airtight details about a case that hadn’t been made public knowledge yet?

    How is any of this happening?  What is happening?  None of this is right.     Who is this guy?

     "I won't waste any time,"   Cthugha said soberly, moving away from the board.  He circled Kuro's desk like a vulture, blue eyes scanning the tabletop with apparent interest.  A finger grazed a half-solved rubix cube curiously.   "I've come for one very important thing:  the Balance is at stake.  I need to fix it.  You can help me."

     "What…?"   Kuro blurted stupidly, mind reeling.   "What're y'talkin' about?"

     "Alright."   Cthugha paused to pinch the bridge of his nose.   "I'm gonna need ya to sharpen up, detective.  I came to you because I know you're smart."

    “Surely y’realise how insane this is!”   Kuro bit back, finding a foothold in the conversation.   “This kid materialises out of nowhere--”

    “Not a kid.”

    “-- ‘n’ tells me that he’s from the future, ‘n’ that he’s here t’restore the Universe’s Balance--”

    “In layman's terms.”

    “--’n’ that he needs my help t’do it.  Ten minutes ago, I was enjoyin’ a cup’a coffee ‘n’ finishin’ the paperwork fer an open-’n’-shut robbery!  This shit is  WAY  outta my professional league.”

    There was a lilt in the conversation--  one in which was stolen by the subtle tilt of Cthugha’s head.  There was a strange metaphysical gravity that surrounded him, one that drew in attention like he was sucking it through a straw.

    In a small, hopeful voice:   “... you have coffee?”  

    “That’s what y’take away from everythin’ I just said?!”

    “I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in months,”   murmured Cthugha, scratching his chin pensively.  Whatever peril the world was in, it seemed to be irrelevant to him now.   “I had some at a diner in a pocket dimension a couple weeks ago.  The waitress was lovely but the coffee was…”   His teeth came together in the form of a fierce grimace.   “... sweet.”

    Kuro blinked owlishly, his mind racing.  Everything was happening so quickly.  He'd had no time to process the other's abrasive introduction, nor the deeper meaning of the things he was saying.  The most he knew of the 'Balance' was that it was a cosmic force that even God's wrestled with.  On the handful of occasions that it had come up in conversation, Raku was either struggling to maintain it or finding loopholes to avoid doing unsavoury things to appease it. Hardly an educational display.

    "How about…"   It was a sheepish start, no doubt, the town-hero more than a little out of sorts.  He paused to stand up straight again, trying to strengthen his resolve.  Get it together.  He's scrawny.  But so is Raku.  He owns the very ground that you stand on.   "... I put on a pot of coffee, and we talk more?"

     "See, now it feels like you’re meeting me in the middle."

                                                                ________

    A sense of normalcy returned to him as he took a sip of his coffee.  The Regular Tuesday vibes are back.

    "What's the verdict?"   he asked as he watched Cthugha peer into his cup.  He found it incredibly odd that somebody who looked so… on-the-cusp-of-adulthood-and-no-older had asked for it black, all but turning his nose up at the offer of sugar and milk.

    "Hm..."   He hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing at the dark abyss before him.  Then, he took a sip.  Kuro watched as he paused mid-drink, eyes widening slightly.  After a moment, he began to gulp it down, continuing until his mug was empty.  

     After a relieved little exhale:   "Refill?"

    "Sure…?"   the Sheriff said hesitantly, reaching for the pot and filling his mug again.  He seemed to slow down for his second helping, really taking in the taste of it.

    "Ah…  this district gets it.  So much flavour,"   Cthugha praised, looking comfortable in his cross-legged position in Kuro's chair.  It's frame dwarfed him, the black leather suiting his businesslike approach.   “I’ve found that’s a common trend here.   Huros make good food too;  organic produce, and lots of spices and herbs.”

    "Uh, yeah…"   He couldn't focus on the idle chatter.  He had too many questions--  too many burning queries-- to ask for anything other than answers to them.   "So about why you're here--"

    "Well, as you observed, I can tell the future, because I've seen it.  I--"

    "But how?"   Kuro interrupted, unfolding a rickety metal chair and sitting on it.  It creaked angrily beneath his weight, his six-and-a-half-foot frame not built for its meagre services.   "Who are y'?  What are y’?  I-- I've met Raku several times over and not even he can mess with time--"

    "I'm sort of his foil,"   Cthugha answered impatiently, his foot tapping against the arm of the chair.   "Look, do we have to play Guess Who right now?  There're more important things--"

    "I need t'know how y'knew about Olivia.  I ain’t gonna help y’at all ‘til I know that.  How do I know yer trustworthy?  How can I be sure my own officers ain’t leakin’ things t’outside sources?   I don’t know y’.  How could y’know?"

    There was a tense pause between them, one that seemed to reverberate throughout the office.  Suddenly, Kuro felt incredibly claustrophobic--  as if the sound bouncing off of the walls was drawing closer and closer.  He watched as Cthugha sighed, drawing his mug to his lips for a final time before setting it down in his lap.

    "Fine.  I'll tell you.  Once.  So you’d better listen good.  You just remember--  you asked for this,"   he warned, tone anything but ceremonious as he wagged a finger at him.   "God's can't touch time because that's what we rifters are for, dummy.  We govern the fabric of reality. Time's separate to a God's responsibilities, see.  Gods maintain districts and concepts; we maintain things relating to the Universe itself.  Time and space, namely.  Those things're outside of a God's scope."

    "So yer…  above Raku?"

    "I'd argue yes,"   the rifter said pridefully.   "That little chump's only got a district to look after.  I've got this entire timeline, and parallel timelines that're born from this timeline."   He retrieved his coffee, brought it to his mouth.  With his lips against the rim:   "... but it doesn't matter.  We work together.  In tandem.  We help each other.  The basic idea is that Gods keep their people happy;  those happy people are way more likely to stick to their destined paths, which means less problems for rifters.  If there is a threat to the peace of the district, the God quells it;  if it is a threat to the Balance, I do.  We ultimately both serve the same function--  to keep the Universe happy--  but we're at opposite ends of the spectrum."

    "We're…  pre-determined?"

    "Heh.  I forgot you're the existential type,"   Cthugha tittered numbly.   "No.  Not in the way you're thinking anyway.  People live in more of a probability map than they do a script;  they have a list of things they could do in any given situation and can select from most of them without any real consequence to the Balance.  People have free will because the Universe isn’t overly fragile, get it?  The continuum isn’t going to shit itself if you take a detour from your usual lunch order.  Every choice births a parallel universe in which the other was made.  Most of these parallel universes are benign and don't need to be touched.  So basically, you could make any choice and each of them would be as inconsequential to me."   At least, if we’re talking about your average choices.   “No more about this, okay?  It isn’t gonna do you any good.  I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but since you were so stubborn...”

    He wasn't going to get into the ins and outs of his job, especially not with a simple huro.  It wasn’t productive.  It wasted time.  It could have catastrophic consequences for his mortal mind.  And the Balance, above all, was a picky sonuvabitch that Cthugha didn’t understand.  Sometimes a store being out of a person's favourite sandwich led to them becoming an angry, tyrannical politician that eventually ended the world.  Other times, a person could murder seventeen children in cold blood and the Balance remained unchanged, seeing those seventeen lives as pre-determined losses.  He’d stopped asking questions a long time ago--  had learned to accept that, in most instances, what was meant to be was meant to be.

    Not when it concerned the end of all life in the Aphanta Region, though.

    Kuro looked dizzy.  He sank a little further into his seat, his tanky frame looking all but comical in the small fold-up chair.   "... 'n' what can I do about any'a this, huh?  I'm just a police officer.  A damn good one, sure, but I’m no cosmic cop."

     "Mm,"   agreed the time-keeper, a solitary nod offered.   "Sure.  But you're a police officer in a district that contains a Universal Hazard."

    "Universal Hazard…?"

    "Sheriff."   It was the first time that Cthugha had paused to find the correct words during their conversation.  He seemed brazen, largely unconcerned with hurting peoples' feelings, but this appeared to be an exception.  Kuro steeled himself, spine turning rigid.   "... I've seen the death of this district, then its neighbours, then beyond.  It all circles back to one very particular problem:  a case you never solve."

    “Brannon…?”   he asked, feeling his heart leap into his throat.

    “Not her.  Someone whose case’s gotten so cold it’s practically subzero,”   Cthugha murmured, polishing off the last of his coffee with a well-timed swallow.   “Remember Mia Vanton?”

    “... oh shit.”

    Cthugha nodded solemnly.     “Yeah.  Her.”

[astro-stark]

Sugar and Spice

Pairing: Bucky x Baker!Reader

Word Count: 770

Warning: Fluff

Summary: You’re too busy to acknowledge your pouty boyfriend.

A/N: HEYO! Back from the dead to give you a small dose of fluff. Thanks to @holy-captain for this beautiful mood board and helping me edit this. Love you!

Bucky let out an exaggerated huff, arms crossed over his chest. Blue eyes darting over to your back. Watching as you hum to yourself while spreading homemade icing on your famous chocolate cake. He thought it was a good idea to come to visit you at your bakery. He was hoping to take you for a bit to eat at your favorite diner down the street. But with you too busy baking up fresh goodies left and right, you barely acknowledged the brunette walking into the large kitchen of your bakery. You simply gave him a short ‘Hey Hun’ and a quick smile before returning to your tasks.

That was over 30 minutes ago.

Bucky’s patience was growing fairly thin. Itching for your affection as you wandered around the kitchen, prepping all types of fresh treats. Grumpily, he scooted the small bar stool so he could sit right beside you. Making sure to scrape the legs of the barstool against the tile floor a little to give out an obnoxious noise. Secretly desperate for your attention that he was hoping that you would scold him. He found the way your face scrunches when you're annoyed extremely adorable.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

He rested his chin against his hand, his elbow on the hard cold table while pouting up at you. Bucky studied your profile, admiring the way your tongue poked out just a little as you focused. Your attention was still focused on the nearly complete cake as you delicately placed raspberries and strawberries on top. The ex-assassin couldn’t help but envy the dessert.

He remembered how your famous cake was the reason how the two of you met. One Morning Sam and Steve practically dragged Bucky into your bakery after their 5 AM jog. Babbling how mouth-watering this specific cake was. He was barely listening to his friends once he laid eyes on you. Bubbling laughter and beautiful smile fully entranced him. He was so mesmerized by you as you took costumer’s orders behind the counter that he only snapped out of it once he heard Steve and Sam laughing at his awe-struck face.

That’s what brought Bucky back every single morning. He found himself spending hours there when your bakery wasn’t too busy. Occasionally sparking up conversations, and sampling some of your new recipes for you. It wasn’t long till he found the courage to ask you to dinner.

He never thought that a cake would come between the two of you. Even if it seemed a bit dramatic, he was extremely jealous of the cake.

God, he can't take it anymore.

His gaze dropped from your face to your hands. Waiting for the moment one of your hands were free and then gently slipped his hands into yours. Locking them together, startling you in the process.

"Buck?" You glanced over at him quizzically. Bucky practically beamed at finally hearing your voice. Yet he continued on his pouting frenzy while placing your hand against his stubbled cheek. Quietly asking you to caress his face. You couldn't help but laugh softly at your adorable boyfriend."What has gotten into you, huh?"

His eyes lit up once your attention was finally on him. He wrapped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. The pout remaining on his face, quietly asking for a kiss. Biting the bottom of your lip to stiffen a laugh, you gently caressed his rough face before slowly leaning in to give him a gentle loving kiss which he happily returned. Pulling you closer till your body was pressed flush against his. When you finally broke from the kiss you brought your other hand up to cup your boyfriend’s face, smearing some chocolate frosting on his cheek in the process. His loving smile and puppy dog eyes prevented you from leaving his side. He would just have to clean it off later.

"Was I accidentally ignoring you again?" You teased.

A dramatic exaggerated sigh escaped through the brunette's mouth but the adoring grin remained."Maybe."

You let out a snort. "My poor baby," you giggle as you tuck a strand of hair out of his face. Bucky practically melts at your gesture and leans into your hand in hopes that you would keep playing with his hair. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Another kiss would be nice." He answered, puckering his lips slightly. You happily obliged, giving him another kiss in which he let out a sweet sigh that is soon followed by a cheeky smile.

 "Can I also have a slice of that cake?"

[t0ngue-tech]

Deadline | Three

“Without saying a single word, you emerged turned around and reached out to wrap your arms around Jungkook’s torso. He stumbled a bit before finding his footing. You knew you caught him off guard because it took him a few seconds before he snaked his arms underneath your hair to secure them around your neck.

‘U-Uh--’ Jungkook stammered.”

↠fluff, angst, highschoolAU, fakerelationshipAU↞

word count: 7.4k

↠series: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ↞ 

A/N: HI GUISE OMG IT’S BEEN SO LONG HASNT IT, BUT HERE I AM!!!! ive honestly been working on this since finals and even when finals finished, i hit a writer’s block. then, all of a sudden i was hit with a rush of motivation and this is the outcome huhu. i hope you all enjoy!!!!

-

-

-

The clock ticked endlessly on and on as the students of your history class were in disarray. Usually everybody would be working with their partners on the history project, but a substitute teacher sat at your teacher’s desk instead; this meant a free period.

Jennie sat with you, huddled in a corner of the classroom catching up on other work for another class. You assisted her with whatever she needed while also proofreading a paper from your AP English class.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit by Jungkook?” Jennie whispered.

Your eyes darted across the room and spotted Jungkook with his head down on the desk, buried within his arms.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You brought your attention back to your paper.

“You do know that two of Chaeyoung’s goons are in this class, right? They’re probably going to tell every single detail about you and Jungkook that happens here.” Jennie leaned in closer to keep her voice at a hushed whisper.

Jennie did have a point, but despite that, you stayed planted in your seat. You were used to having Chaeyoung’s friends’ eyes glancing at you from time to time in class but ever since the night in the diner parking lot, they’ve been watching you like a hawk. It was a bit concerning.

The substitute reminded everyone that the sign-in sheet was at the front of the class and to straighten out the desk before leaving. Before the bell rang, Jungkook awoke from the sound of the desks scraping against the tile floors. He stretched out his limbs and lazily threw his backpack over his shoulder.

As soon as the bell rang, the students stampeded towards the door and Jennie bid you adieu. Jungkook glided across the class to where you were, still putting papers in their correct folders. He held your water bottle and phone in one hand, patiently waiting for you to get situated. When you finished adjusting your bag on your bag, he silently reached for your hand and slid his fingers in between yours. It’s been roughly two weeks and you still weren’t used to the feeling of holding his hand.

“I’ve never seen you look this tired.” You spoke over the rush of students in the hallway.

Jungkook yawned deeply and shook his head to wake himself up a little. “I’ve had three consecutive late night training and it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Do you have a fight coming up?”

“Next month, but I need to make weight and train as much as I can so I have a lot of work to do.” He explained.

“Hm,” you hummed. “I guess this means you have to cut back on the fries.”

Jungkook dropped his jaw slightly. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

Since the two of you started this fake relationship, Jungkook always walked you to your fourth period. He didn’t mind being a few minutes late to his class because his teacher was “cool.” It worried you a little, but he stressed that it was really no big deal.

“Do you have a meeting after school?” Jungkook stationed you against the wall near your classroom to let other students pass through.

“I just have to drop off a few folders to the club classroom and then I have to pick up a package for my mom at the post office right after.” You reached for the items Jungkook held for you and he gave them back to you with ease.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’m gonna head straight home after school to sleep before my practice tonight.” Jungkook sighed as he enveloped you into a tight hug. The hug lasted roughly a minute and just before he let go, it felt as if he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head; unless that was his chin bumping against you because of how tall he was compared to you.

You were used to seeing Jungkook with an abundance of energy and seeing how physically exhausted he was now worried you a lot more than it should have. Instead of focusing like how you usually did, you spent the entire class period looking up different kinds of foods that boxers could eat while trying to make weight. A lot of the information you found were similar lists of light proteins and reminders to watch the sugar and fat intake.

A lightbulb went off somewhere inside of your head and you were now creating a small shopping list in the notes section of your phone. This wasn’t your problem, but somehow you felt compelled to support him. Maybe it was the title of being his “girlfriend,” who knows.

↠↞

You [3:04]: hi mom, i just picked up your package and i’m heading to the grocery store. let me know asap if you need anything

When you arrive at the grocery store parking lot, your mother replied with a short list of a dozen eggs, cherry tomatoes, and a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

“Ground turkey...ground turkey...ground turk-ah.” You dropped the package of lean meat into your shopping cart.

You never tried cooking any of the dishes you had bookmarked on your phone, so your nerves were shaking inside of you. There was a lot more options that weren’t as complicated, but of course, you didn’t want to settle with that.

It never occurred to you that there was a possibility you could poison Jungkook just before his boxing match. This thought made you want to put everything back on the shelves, but you also thought about how tired Jungkook looked today and it gave you some strength to follow through with your plan.

“Ooooh, mama y/n. Making dishes for your man.”

On your way home, Jennie called you to talk for a bit before she took her sister to her dance lesson. You filled her in with your plan to make a few meals for Jungkook so he can keep his energy up and Jennie was elated.

“Jennie, calm down. He’s not my man. I’m just trying to better a good...person? For him?” You pulled up to your driveway and disconnected your phone from your car. “Am I taking this role too seriously?”

“Sigh, y/n. You’re doing exactly what you need to do.” Jennie explained in your ear. “This is going to help you feel more like a girlfriend-girlfriend for him! I’ve seen you hang out with him at school and I can tell you’re still awkward with this whole thing.”

You shuffled into your house with your bags of groceries dangling from your arms and your phone tucked in between your shoulder and ear. “I’m still trying to get used to him, okay? You still have a point, but I might kill him.”

Jennie laughed in your ear and sighed. “That’s okay!”

Your mother waved at your from the kitchen counter and rushed over to help you with your bags.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, bye! Love you!” Just like that, you hung up before Jennie could say anything else.

You remembered that you didn’t tell your mother about Jungkook and you weren’t ready to confront her about him yet.

“How was school, y/n?” Your mother glided over to help you unload your bags.

“It was fine—it’s okay mom, I got this, you can continue with whatever you were doing.” There was a tinge of panic in your voice which didn’t sound as convincing as you wanted it to be.

Your mother lifted an eyebrow and reached in to grab her bag of chips. “Okay, honey. Just uh, don’t forget to put the eggs in the fridge.”

It took a few minutes for your mother to leave the kitchen because she rummaged through the fridge to retrieve a bottle of iced tea to have with her chips. She sat down at the dining table where her laptop was set up as well as a stack of papers.

You silently moved around the kitchen to put certain foods inside of the fridge and laid out a cutting board and other cooking utensils. The first order of business was to wash the lettuce and other vegetables you were going to use.

“Let’s see, lettuce wraps…” After rinsing the vegetables, you tied an apron around your waist. “Season the ground turkey with salt…” You whispered the instructions to yourself and carefully measured the spices and dropped them into the bowl with the ground turkey. It was such a delicate process and you wanted to get everything right on the first try because besides preparing him a few meals, you wanted to surprise him during his training tonight.

To an extent, you knew your way around the kitchen. You could easily whip a meal for yourself that could be done with minimum ingredients, but you weren’t skilled enough to create detailed meals meant for others to eat. This was one of those cases.

You were tempted to ask your mother for assistance because she cooked more often than you did. It wouldn’t hurt to do so, plus you could easily say that the food was for yourself.

“Mom…?” You called out quietly.

Your mother hummed and typed away at her keyboard.

“I may or may not need help.”

She stood up from her chair to take a glance at whatever you were doing. All of your ingredients were sprawled out all over the island in the kitchen. Everything was in disarray and your mother chuckled at the chaos.

“And what in the world are you making?” Your mother closed her laptop and strolled over to the mess of vegetables and packages of meat.

“I—uh, I’m making a whole bunch of shi—“ you stopped yourself from completing your sentence. “Stuff. A whole bunch of stuff.”

You barely started the cooking process and you already felt defeated. It was in your nature to figure things out and handle things on your own, but this was cooking for another party so you needed all the help the universe could give you.

“Okay, well, what exactly are you making y/n?” Your mother asked while tying on her own apron.

“Ground turkey lettuce wraps, roasted vegetables, sweet potato fries, and some sort of protein bowl with these chicken tenders, and a lot more stuff.” As you listed your menu, your mother stared at you suspiciously. “What?”

“Nothing, I just—I didn’t know you had such a healthy diet that’s all.”

There were two reasons why you felt yourself sweating: 1) prepping ingredients was tough work and 2) you hated lying to your mother.

“Yeah, I just wanted to try something new, you know? Gotta stay in shape somehow someway.” You let out a nervous chuckle and your mother stared at you, unconvinced.

It took a few seconds before your mother scaled the island to stand next to you. She eyed out the mess in front of you and sighed.

“You know, y/n,” she began and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “When your father was still alive, I used to prepare a lot of meals for him just like this because he always left for work before the sun came up.”

You knew exactly what your mother was trying to tell you and yet you still hesitated.

“I may be going out on a limb here, but is this for that boy who dropped you off back home a few days ago?”

Right on the money.

It only took a matter of seconds plus the piercing gaze coming from your mother to crumble and nod your head. You had no problem in confining in your mother with absolutely anything, but this was painful for you to do. Despite what you told Jungkook, the reason why you didn’t tell your mother about your “relationship” is because it was only temporary. She had just witnessed you sulk throughout the entire summer and you didn’t want to burden her a second time by telling her that you and Jungkook “broke up.” Keeping the relationship a secret would have been hard work but you had to do what you had to do.

“You saw him?” You asked quietly.

She nodded her head and pulled out an extra cutting board from one of the compartments in the island. “I was repotting some of my flowers at the side of the house and when I got up to stretch, I saw you two through the gate; he opened the door of his car for you.”

For the record, you and Jennie both bet that your mother was going to say something within the first week.

“Uh, y-yeah. His name is Jungkook.” The smile that appeared on your face happened on an impulse.

You proceeded to tell your mother the forged story Jungkook came up with and also mentioned that you known him since elementary and that he was your partner for a history project.

“Wait, is this the same Jungkook who put the gum in your hair?” Your mother exclaimed with a laugh.

“That’s—That’s the one.” The bitter memory of having to cut your hair just below your shoulders flashed in your head. You also remembered the moment when Jungkook’s mother showed up the next day to pick him up from school and made him apologize again. She also gave you a ziploc of powdered brownies because of how terrible she felt.

“Wow, what a small world, huh?” Your mother smiled fondly at you. “Y/n, you know that I don’t want you hiding this kind of thing from me. You can trust me.”

It truly broke your heart hearing her words. If it was already difficult admitting the relationship, you knew you were going to suffer when the deadline would occur.

“I know, mom. I’m sorry.” You replied sadly.

She patted your back and grinned. “Don’t be sorry, honey. Now let’s get this chaos in order because first and foremost, you should always prep all of your ingredients first.”

Cooking took a lot longer than you expected because of your lack of skills. It was a trainwreck, but your mother managed to assist you in making a few days worth of meal prep for Jungkook. Even though you burnt your fingers on the pans from roasting the vegetables in the oven, you were satisfied with the outcome.

“Hopefully Jungkook isn’t going to die.” You sighed.

Your mother pulled out a reusable bag from the cupboard and neatly stacked the tupperwares inside.

“He’s going to be fine, y/n. I taste tested your food and it tastes fine. Just be sure to tell Jungkook that I’m going to be needing my tupperware back.” She instructed.

You nodded and mentioned that you were going to use her car because your keys were in your room which was “too far” for you.

As you boarded the driver side of her car, you sighed deeply thinking about if this was too much of a gesture. Giving someone food is one thing but making a home cooked meal was another.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s fine. It’s just food, it’s not like your kissing him or something—okay wait, no. Just shut up and drive.” You muttered to yourself and started the engine.

↠↞

The gym that Jungkook trained at was about a fifteen to twenty minute drive from your house which meant it was most likely closer to his house. It was no secret where Jungkook trained, plus you had him on almost all of your social media platforms so you saw parts of what the gym looked like.

When you pulled into the parking lot, you spotted Jungkook’s car easily because of how bare the lot was at that time of night. You had time to abort your mission, but you found yourself stepping out of your vehicle and grabbing the bag from the passenger seat.

Entering the gym, there was a strong stench of overused body spray mixed with the tiniest tinge of sweat. There were a few people still using the exercise equipment and a few boys and girls working with a trainer. You took a couple of more steps inside and you easily spotted Jungkook sparring with his coach in the boxing ring towards the left wing of the gym. You approached the surrounding area cautiously, not wanting to distract Jungkook from his training.

You watched Jungkook take forceful jabs to the sparring equipment that his coach was holding. The sound of his boxing gloves hitting his coach’s punching mitts was intense, almost making you flinch with each punch. With the headgear blocking majority of his face, it was still clear it was Jungkook because of his strawberry blond hair.

From where you were standing, you could hear his coach tell him to take a break for a bit. He helped Jungkook remove his mouth guard and boxing gloves. Jungkook took off his headgear and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He quickly glanced in your direction and took a double take just as quick. Jungkook climbed out of the ring and you met him half way as he wiped down his body with a towel.

“Hey, uh, this is a nice surprise.” Jungkook chuckled.

“Hi.” You said blankly. You didn’t realize you were spacing out until Jungkook waved his hand in front of your face. “I come bearing gifts.”

Before handing him the bag, Jungkook offered you a seat at a bench nearby. He sat down a couple of inches away from you, apologizing that he probably smells disgusting and is drenched with sweat.

“I couldn’t shake the thought of you being exhausted all day and you also mentioned that you had to make weight. So I took the liberty to meal prep you some food.” You explained and handed him the bag.

Jungkook smiled at you with a shocked expression and peered inside of the bag. He rummaged through the tupperware that were labeled with post its.

“Y/n, I--I don’t know what to say, thank you so much.” He couldn’t erase the smile from his lips and opened up the tupperware that contained a thick turkey wrap that was cut into two. There was also a batch of roasted sweet potatoes, parsnip, and red bell peppers stuffed inside. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

Well shit. You were so focused on cooking for Jungkook that you haven’t even eaten anything since that afternoon.

“N-No, I haven’t.”

“Great! No, not great but, wanna stay for about ten more minutes? I’m gonna do one more session and I want to share this with you.” Jungkook closed up the tupperware and stood up.

You were worried that Jungkook felt hesitant about eating the food you made yourself; with the help of your mother of course. But he looked extremely excited about asking you to eat with him that saying no didn’t seem like an option.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” You answered sweetly.

“Okay, just sit tight.” He spoke, practically skipping all the way back to the boxing ring.

Before getting started, Jungkook and his coach exchanged a few words and peeked over Jungkook’s shoulder to wave at you. It was most likely he introduced you as his girlfriend; it was still a weird title to have under your belt.

It was exhilarating watching Jungkook in the ring. You didn’t mean to stare, but you found yourself gawking at his biceps that were glistening under the fluorescent lights. You remembered Jungkook being scrawny back in middle school and freshman year. Then all of sudden, he grew taller, gained muscles, and gained the habit of dying his hair often. Honestly, he had always been adorable but you never saw Jungkook in that way, ever. It was difficult to admit, but he looked attractive in his element.

That was it though. Just attractive.

The ten minutes flew by in a blink of an eye. He politely asked you to wait for another five minutes because he wanted to wash up before sitting in close proximity with you for the second time. Just like those ten minutes, the five minutes passed just as quickly. Jungkook came out from another room, waddling with his drenched hair bouncing everywhere and his duffle bag swinging from his side. He gestured you over to exit the gym which you were thankful for. The overwhelming smell of the body spray started to give you a headache.

↠↞

“Are you sure you want to share this with me? I made this for you, Jungkook.” You questioned as you sat on the parking block in the empty parking stall next to Jungkook’s car.

Jungkook tossed his duffle bag into the backseat of his car and proceeded to sit next to you. He changed into a dark gray track suit and still had water dripping from the ends of his hair.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I always drink some protein after training and that’s going to fill me up pretty well. You can have the other half of this wrap since you didn’t eat yet—oh fuck, my blender bottle.” He retreated back to his car and retrieved his blender bottle that already had a measured amount of protein powder and a bottle of water. “Have you made one of these before?”

You shook your head and he handed you both bottles and just as you were making his meal prep, you felt like you were going to ruin his protein.

“You see this line here? 12 ounce? Fill the blender up to there, close it tightly and then shake as if your life depended on it.” He instructed.

The instructions were simple and yet you still continued to second guess yourself over something so trivial. You did as you were told and as you shook the bottle, Jungkook laughed at the strained look you had on your face.

“Hey! Cut me some slack. I don’t shake protein on a regular basis.” You abruptly stopped the motion and Jungkook continued to laugh whilst pleading for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just--” Jungkook still failed to stifle his laughter. “Your face---” He took the bottle from your hands and imitated the look of your eyes screwed shut and your lips pursed closely to your teeth. Jungkook’s expression caused a burst a laughter to rise out of you and playfully shoved him off of the parking block.

“Just eat your food, Jeon!” You chuckled.

Jungkook recovered from him fit of laughter and proceeded to take the lid off the tupperware. Your fingers trembled as he handed you the other half of the wrap. While your eyes held the gaze of anxiety, he had the gaze of astonishment mixed with hunger.

“So, what’s in it?” He asked whilst examining the wrap.

“Uh, turkey breast slices, yellow bell pepper, spinach, tomato, and hummus.” As you explained, Jungkook lifted the wrap closer and closer to his mouth.

The deafening silence between the two of you as Jungkook bit and chewed was astounding. Your throat had gone dry and it felt as if your half of the wrap was going to slide out of your hands.

Jungkook abruptly stopped mid-chew and looked at you with his eyebrows knitted together. Your eyes turned into moons as you felt your heart break piece by piece.

“Y/n…” Jungkook mumbled slowly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to prepare yourself for the rejection of your food. However, you did expect it.

“This is fucking delicious.” He said in pure bliss. “I don’t ever eat anything like this, but holy shit, this is amazing.”

The disappointed look on your face twisted into a confused facial expression. “Really?! Are you sure?”

“Try it.”

Even after your mother’s approval and Jungkook’s compliment, you were still hesitant in taking a bite. Jungkook gestured at you to try the turkey wrap as he took his own bite.

You took a breath and proceeded to follow through with the action. After chewing for a bit, you came to the realization that, “wow, okay, this isn’t bad.”

“See?! It’s great!” Jungkook gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Why were you so nervous about it?”

“It’s because the only people I’ve ever cooked for are my mom and Jennie.” You explained. “I make the most basic things ever, so you know, of course I’d be nervous making you something that I made.”

He nodded his head and reached for one of the vegetables in the tupperware. “Well, I really appreciate it, y/n—for doing this, I mean. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” You sighed. “I wanted to.”

Jungkook smiled at you with his cheeks puffed out from the food that he stuffed inside. You felt compelled to poke one of his cheeks, but you fought it because bringing him food was already as “intimate” as you could get.

You still found it hard to make the first move to hold Jungkook’s hand in school or even hook your arm with his. He always initiated skinship first which you were grateful for because you were obviously too chicken to do it yourself.

“So,” You started after swallowing another bite of the turkey wrap. “I uh--my mom, she uh, you know, knows.”

Jungkook stopped midway through his bite and stared at you with concerning eyes. “What happened?”

You began to tell the tale of your mother’s smart instincts. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed for a moment.

“She remembers you as the kid who put gum in my hair.” You gently nudged his shoulder and he snorted at the memory.

“Ah, yeah, I remember that. My mom got so mad at me.” He sighed and flicked at a lock of your hair with clean fingers. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

You envisioned the eleven year old version of Jungkook who “stealthily” stuck a wad of gum in your hair but tripping over someone’s backpack while trying to flee.

“It’s alright.” You chuckled and put your hand up.

Jungkook quickly finished the rest of his wrap and chugged half of his protein shake. “You want to try some? It’s chocolate.”

You hesitated at first, only because you had that split second thought of sharing an indirect kiss with him.

I need to stop watching anime.

After what seemed to be forever, you reached out and took a swig from his protein bottle and scrunched your nose.

“It tastes like...grass.” You shuddered and smacked your lips, still tasting the chocolately-grass flavored protein on your tongue.

Jungkook laughed sharply and escaped to grab another water bottle to give to you out of his duffle bag. “Yeah sorry, it’s a vegan protein. You get used to it when you drink it often.” He offered you another sip which you declined with a sour facial expression.

Your brain sifted through the thoughts that were racing inside of you and you thought about whether or not Chaeyoung was used to the taste of Jungkook’s protein flavor. You wondered if she ever gave him a home cooked meal or if she randomly showed up at the gym while he was training.

Duh. Of course she has y/n. She was his girlfriend.

You weren’t trying to compare yourself to Chaeyoung, but he did date her for three years which meant he was accustomed to random acts of flirtatious banter and actions. On the other hand, you were also used to those things but with Sehun, not Jungkook. It never really occurred to you before, but you wondered why he never hesitated to show public displays of affection to you; his breakup with Chaeyoung was just as “recent” as yours and yet it almost seemed like a second nature for him.

Just this once, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Hey Jungkook,” you began softly waiting for a signal from him to continue your words. “How is it so easy for you to do this?”

He tilted his head and pointed to his blender bottle. “Do what? Drink my protein?”

“No.” You chuckled. “I don’t know, pretend to be in this relationship with me. Pet names, holding my hand, you know, the works.”

Jungkook stretched his legs out in front of him and took a deep breath. “Honestly,” he started. “It isn’t easy.”

You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t expecting this answer at all.

“For three years, I’ve only affectionately held one girl’s hand and called only one girl babe or whatever. It’s all I’ve ever known--routine, you know. So, jumping right into something new terrified me a little, but I knew I had to be confident about this so Chaeyoung could finally leave me alone.” Jungkook explained.

This was probably one of the most serious moments you ever had with Jungkook. While you always made it known that you weren’t used to PDA with Jungkook, he remained confident with every move he made that you never suspected him to feel the same way as you did. It was honestly impressive.

Also, Jungkook was right. He had to do this in order for Chaeyoung to finally get off his back. Although you held his hand in the hallways and hugged him whenever he initiated it, Chaeyoung and her lackeys could probably tell from a mile away that there was something suspicious just from the look in your eyes; a woman’s intuition.

If you put as much effort as Jungkook did in the beginning, then maybe this whole thing would be over much quicker. After all, that was the stipulations of this fake relationship: it would last until Chaeyoung gives up. You also had a hidden goal embedded in this relationship which was to make Sehun jealous. Selfish? Yes. Did you care? A little.

You left the conversation as that and carefully eased into a different subject. Jungkook never questioned your question, he just casually followed your lead.

You decided to spend another ten minutes with Jungkook before deciding to head home; it was still a school night. Jungkook tidied up the backseat of his car to make proper room for the bag of meal prep so it wouldn’t fall over while he drove.

“By the way, am I still picking you up tomorrow morning?” Jungkook asked taking the bag from you.

“Yeah, if you still want to.” You gave yourself a few more seconds before continuing. “My mom actually starts a little later than normal tomorrow, so if you want to come out to say hi then..”

Jungkook took a noticeable breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’d love to say hi. I’ll stop by the usual time.”

You nodded your head and waited for Jungkook to ready himself to get into the driver’s seat. Instead, he shut the backseat door and gestured you your car. You cocked an eyebrow and spun around on your heel with Jungkook walking closely behind you.

“New car?” He asked.

“No, my mom’s.” You unlocked the car and just as he’s done every single time, Jungkook moved ahead of you to open the car door. You placed your phone into one of the cupholders and opened the middle console to double check if your wallet was still there.

There was a voice inside your head screaming at you to turn the fuck around and give Jungkook a hug or at least a high five. You hesitated because it’s what you do, but the voice grew louder and louder until your thoughts boiled over.

Without saying a single word, you emerged turned around and reached out to wrap your arms around Jungkook’s torso. He stumbled a bit before finding his footing. You knew you caught him off guard because it took him a few seconds before he snaked his arms underneath your hair to secure them around your neck.

“U-Uh--” Jungkook stammered.

This was your cue to release him and you did just that.

“Drive safe.” You playfully swatted his chest, making him flinch and then sliding into your mother’s car.

“You too. Drive safe.” Jungkook closed the car door and before he shifted his body, you caught a glimpse of a smile on his face. You started the engine and rolled the windows down. Jungkook turned back around to you and you waved him off so he could go to his car. He also waved goodbye and you waited until he got into his car before you pulled out of the parking stall.

The hug you gave him was going to be the first of many that you were going to initiate first. You promised yourself to actually act like a girlfriend for once. Hugs were a bit on the easy side for you because you didn’t need to look at him while doing it. Little by little, you were going to push yourself to initiate PDA towards Jungkook. Sehun would get jealous, Chaeyoung would officially call it quits with Jungkook and then everything would go back to normal.

↠↞

You loved it whenever your mother started later in the mornings. This meant you could sit at the table with her and chat before heading to school. It was rare for her to be home before you went to school because even on her days off, she would catch up on some sleep.

It was a quiet Wednesday morning and you were enjoying a plate of waffles drizzled with maple syrup and dusted with powdered sugar. Your mother sliced you up a few strawberries and poured you a nice tall glass of orange juice. Whenever she prepared a decent size breakfast like this, it reminded you of your childhood; breakfast with your parents on a typical Sunday morning with you begging your father to add whipped cream to your waffles and your mother nagged at you to not pile on more sugar on your breakfast. There wasn’t a lot of memories stored in your headspace, but you cherished them all.

“So that’s what you were working on yesterday.” You forked a slice of your waffle into your mouth.

“Yeah. I don’t know why the head honcho decided to move the meeting today on such short notice.” Your mother spoke from the kitchen, spooning another serving of the batter into the waffle maker. “At least I finished it, but I might be coming home an hour or two late because today’s schedule got completely rearranged.”

Nowadays, it was not uncommon for you to be home alone or alone until late hours of the night. Over the years, your mother worked hard and became head of her department in the office. By the time you were a sophomore, she went on a few business trips that left you home alone for a few weekends. You had to admit, it was a bit lonely at times, but you were extremely proud of her accomplishments.

Your phone vibrated against the hardwood of the dining table with a surprising text message from Jungkook.

[6:53] jeon kook: Outside

Your fork clattered on top of the plate and you bolted towards your driveway, disregarding your mother’s question.

“I thought the usual time meant 7:15?” You questioned Jungkook as he stood at the passenger side of his car, flattening out his shirt and ruffling his hair. He nonchalantly opened his car and pulled out a drink carrier that held three drinks.

Your eyes grew wide and your jaw dropped slightly.

“What--What is going on?” You asked suspiciously.

“Iced hazelnut latte for you and two orange-mango iced teas because I don’t know how your mom takes her coffee.” Jungkook explained holding up the carrier and shutting the car door.

“O-Okay.” You stuttered, still confused as to why he was doing this. “Let’s go in then.”

As the two of you walked up the pavement, you suddenly remembered this would technically be the first time he’s been in your home; the one time during elementary didn’t count because it was for your birthday party. Jungkook would be stepping into your home as your “boyfriend” and it was nerve wracking. Was your mother going to embarrass you? Were you going to embarrass yourself?

“Mom!” You called out, almost hesitant to let Jungkook inside. “Jungkook is here.”

You stepped out of the way to let Jungkook in who was struggling to kick hi shoes off before entering.

“H-Hi! Good morning Mrs--”

“Oh just call me ‘auntie’, Jungkook. It’s alright.” Your mother always instructed your friends to call her ‘auntie’ while Jennie called her ‘mom’.

“A-Auntie..” Jungkook repeated with a small smile. “I’m sorry to drop by on short notice.”

“It’s no problem. Have a seat and have some breakfast before you two head out.” At your mother’s words, you flashed her wide eyes. Even if this was all apart of the relationship package, you only prepared yourself for them to exchange greetings not have an entire conversation over breakfast.

“I don’t know how you take your coffee--or if you even like coffee, so I got you an orange-mango iced tea.” Jungkook took a few steps forward, nervous to enter the kitchen. You gave him a gentle push and he glided across your wooden floor to hand over her beverage.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you.” She traded the drink with a plate of waffles for him to indulge in.

As he walked back towards you, you gave him a reassuring “okay” sign with your fingers. Jungkook seemed to want extra “good-boyfriend-points” and he seemed to be on the right track.

↠↞

Breakfast with your mother went surprisingly well.

One of the first things Jungkook said was an apology for ruining your hair and with a full hearted laugh, she forgave him. Your mother asked about school and shockingly, he didn’t quite lie about his academic performance. He expressed his struggle to focus in class sometimes and he was glad to have you tutor him from time to time. Nothing embarrassing, nothing too cringey, everything went exceptionally well.

Your mother thanked Jungkook for picking you up and also thanked him once again for the iced tea as you two were preparing to leave. She even witnessed him open the car door for you. You have to admit, you were impressed and proud of Jungkook for doing this.

“I’m pretty sure she likes you.” You commented and rolled down your window.

Jungkook chuckled and slicked his hair back. “Of course, why wouldn’t she?”

“Oh my god, I take it back.” You leaned further away from him, cringing at his greasiness.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Jungkook gently tugged at your wrist to bring you back to how you were sitting before. “I swear I was shitting bricks though, but your mom is a lot easier to talk to than what I thought.”

You smiled as you listened to Jungkook rant about how he couldn’t sleep last night because he was too nervous. His eyes flickered from you back to the road and even still holding onto your wrist, he still spoke with a few hand gestures. This would have been your cue to wriggle yourself free, but you suppressed the urge. You had to get comfortable somehow, someway and this was your way of trying.

“By the way, how does your mom take her coffee?” Jungkook released your wrist as he reversed his car into a parking stall.

“Straight up black. Iced or hot. Ugh, it tastes disgusting.” You shivered and rubbed your wrist.

“I guess I’ll bring that over the next time I meet with you two.”

Small words were exchanged as the two of you exited Jungkook’s car. You had both of your backpacks at your footside during the whole car ride and he walked over to your side to take his bag from you, you offered to put it on for him. He squinted his eyes at you, wondering what you were up to this time. But you nudged him on to slip his arms through the straps.

“Hmm, y/n. What’s going on? First the meal prep then--oh fuck, my waffles!” Jungkook thrashed around and quickly opened the passenger side door of his car to reach for the ziploc with extra waffles that your mother made for him. “Anyway, first the meal prep, then that hug you gave me--which by the way, you never do first. During breakfast, you dressed up my waffles for me and now your helping me put on my bag? What exactly are you planning, Ms. y/n?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “First of all, at my house, it’s called manners. Second of all, I’m not planning anything. I’m just...playing my part.”

Jungkook chuckled and slyly weaved his fingers in between yours because of the amount of students that were in the parking lot.

“Well, whatever pushed that on, I’m glad it did. Chaeyoung was seriously doubting us.” He whispered.

“You know that for certain?” You asked intrigued because he did sound certain.

“Yeah, she told me.” Jungkook kept his hushed tone. “Remember at the diner? She went on and on saying that you didn’t seem like a ‘girlfriend’ because you acted differently with Sehun or whatever. I told her to just mind her business.”

A quiet sigh slipped past your lips. Chaeyoung wasn’t wrong, which was why you were trying your best to push past your boundaries and act like a better girlfriend. Jungkook hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. He always quietly warned you if he was going to do something out of the ordinary like a back hug. You were always grateful for this, so you needed to meet him halfway for once.

“I--” You started. “I’ll try my best to do better, okay?”

Jungkook smiled at you and shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Thanks.”

He guided you all the way to your locker and leaned against the cool metal. This was practically routine for the two of you; you’d head to your locker first to grab whatever textbooks you needed for first and second period, then head over to Jungkook’s locker to grab a single notebook.

“Any plans for lunch?” Jungkook asked as he entered his locker combination.

“I was going to go to the math lab. I have to go over some criteria with Chanyeol since I didn’t get to stay for a full meeting for the past week.” You explained.

“I feel like that’s my fault since you’ve been helping me with my math work. Sorry about that.” Jungkook kept his head in his locker searching for god knows what.

“It’s no...problem.” You said barely above a whisper. Across the hall, you easily spotted Sehun with his group of friends chilling against another row of lockers. There was no doubt that he was staring right at you while his friends became background noise.

It wasn’t fair. You wouldn’t need to be making Sehun jealous in the first place if you two didn’t break up in the first place. You and Sehun would have been happy together and nothing would be messy right now.

Ugh. Shut up, y/n.

You didn’t even need to make Sehun jealous in the first place; this was just you being selfish. Sehun became unhappy at some point in the relationship and you had a personal duty to show him that you were happy with someone else.

“I guess I’m seeing you after school then.” Jungkook shut his locker, making you break the eye contact with Sehun. He kept his back turned without knowing who or what you were staring at.

“Yeah.” You absentmindedly tugged at Jungkook’s shirt to smooth out a couple of the wrinkles that splayed across. In return, he gently pushed a few hairs out of your face with his fingertips.

“Alright, let’s get you to class, Ms. y/n.” Jungkook took the textbook out of your grasp so he could properly hold your hand.

As you laced your hand into Jungkook’s, you stole a glance of Sehun whose eyes were still trained on you. You swore to yourself once again that you were going to show Sehun that you were happy with your boyfriend, Jungkook. Sehun was going to have to watch in the background as you walked the halls of the school with someone who wasn’t him.

Your class was in the opposite direction of where Sehun stood with his friends. Just as you started to walk off with Jungkook, you softly squeezed his hand and lean your head against his shoulder. There was an intense feeling of eyes piercing through the back of your head and just before Jungkook could look down at your face, you smirked.

Bingo.

-

-

-

♡ rae jagi

[bittywitches]

Promise (G.D and E.D fanfic)

sort of a continuation of my fanfic My Valentine, but not really. but sorta.

It’s a bit long, but I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hope you guys enjoy!

“He’s going to hate me!”

You’re sitting on the couch next to Ethan, holding his controller loosely in your hand as the tv screen illuminates, telling you “Congratulations!”, you’ve just kicked Ethan’s ass in Mario Kart. But your attention is not focused on your long-awaited victory, but on the incredulous thing that your boyfriend’s brother is trying to convince you to do. “He’ll never trust me ever again!” Ethan stands in front of you, hands on his hips. “Nah, he’ll be fine.” You gape at him. “Have you ever met Grayson?” He rolls his eyes. “Yea, he’s my twin brother.” “Then you of all people should know this is a terrible idea.” You huff, throwing the blanket off of you and storming off towards the kitchen. Ethan hastily follows you. “Come on, you know it’d be hilarious. Besides, he’ll get over it.” You scowl at him. He coughs. “Er... eventually.” You cross your arms. “You’ve got to be absolutely mad if you’d think I’d decide to do that. He’ll be heartbroken! I can’t do that to him, E. So leave me alone!” You reach into the cupboard to grab a bag of chips and try to escape to Gray’s room, but Ethan catches your arm. “Y/N, come on! Imagine the kind of video we could make with that-“ “You want me to pretend to break up with Grayson for a video?!” “No! No... just, give him a little scare.” He takes your chip bag, placing it onto the counter as you sneer at him. “Besides, anything he assumes is entirely his fault.” You throw his arm off of you, stomping off. “Ethan, you are an untrustworthy, dreadful, disgusting son of bi-“ “You’ve been complaining about how it’s too big for you anyway!” He throws his hands in the air. “Honestly, I’m doing you a favour.” You scoff at him. “I’m not complaining, it’s just a bit loose. Not too loose in a way that it needs to get fixed, but a comfortable kind of loose that makes it easy for me to play with.” Ethan blinks at you. “How can you use so many words to describe a ring?” You roll your eyes. “I just don’t want to lose the promise ring Grayson gave me. Mind you, that was two weeks ago!“ “Exactly, which is why it would be the perfect time to-“ “Don’t even think about it, you-“ “Just imagine the face he’d make, it’d be pr-“ “I’m not going to break my boyfriend’s heart just for one of your stupid videos!” Ethan gives you an exaggerated gasp as he puts his hand on this heart, giving you the most overdramatic expression of hurt and betrayal you’ve ever seen. “I can’t believe it...” “Don’t give me that bullshit.” Ethan wipes away a fake tear, turning his back to you. “Making videos is my passion, Y/N...” “Don’t you even-“ “..and you have the audacity to call it stupid?” He turns back to you, his lip quivering. “E, don’t you dare give me the puppy dog eyes.” “I wouldn’t have to, but you’ve offended me so much your making me resort to this.” “Ethan...” “But hey, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal, it’s just for a stupid video, after all...” Ethan’s shoulders slump and he begins to sulk off to his bedroom.

You sigh. “E, wait.” ———— A half hour of guilt-tripping later, Ethan has convinced you to help him with his prank on his brother. You sit cross-legged on his bed, arms crossed, as he finishes telling you what you’re going to do. “I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” Ethan laughs. “Come on, you guys need to spice things up every once in a while.” You groan. “Going out more than once a month is already too exciting for me.” You bury your face into your hands. “How do you expect me to do this with a straight face?” “Like the people in those shows do it.” He comes over and sits in front of you, one leg dangling off of the bed. “First you’re gonna be all quiet and serious, so when he comes over for your guys’ ‘talk’ he’ll be nervous.” “Yea, I can manage that. But there’s no way I can do the next part while keeping a straight face.” You peer up at him through your fingers. “Just pretend you're in one of those old movies.” He clears his throat and puts on a terrible female southern accent. “‘I don’t think this is gonna work out, sugar’,” he breaks character to smirk at you, and you snicker. “Okay, practice on me. Pretend I’m Grayson.” “That’s actually harder than you think it is,” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes. You take a breath, to keep yourself from giggling. you try to pretend you’re in one of those diners in those old movies, getting ready to tell your significant other that “it’s over”, and then slide your ring across the table, making it official. Returning the thing that made it official that you were theirs. Giving up the thing that makes you Grayson’s- “I can’t do it!” You slump forward onto the bed, burying your head into E’s pillow. “It’s too haaaaard...” Ethan sighs. “Come on, Y/N, you’ve got this. Just focus! Let’s try it again...” ————

“You can’t tell me what it is right now?” “I just think it’d be better if we didn’t do it over the phone.” “Why? Is something wrong?” “I just want to tell you in person, Gray.” “Ok... I’ll be home in around half an hour.” “Ok.” “Love you.” “Love you too.” You cut the call, and fall back onto Ethan’s bed. “Why’d you say ‘love you’?!” He exclaims. You sit up. “Because he said it to me!” He sighs. “You’re definitely gonna screw this up for us.” He looks up at the camera. “Guys, if this prank fails, know that it’s all Y/N’s fault!” “Oh come on!” You push Ethan out of frame. “You guys know that if I didn’t say it back he would’ve definitely suspected something was up!” Ethan laughs, leaning back in so he’s on screen. “Okay, we’re gonna have to wait until Gray’s finished running all his errands. See you guys when he gets home!” The camera turns off. ———— You’re sitting on the couch, playing on your phone when you hear the door click open. You nervously check the hidden cameras around the room, but as you hear Gray’s footsteps get louder you redirect your attention to your phone. He walks into the room, holding a bunch of grocery bags. He’s wearing a pair of Baby blue jeans with rips in the knees and a loose t-shirt. He kicks off his shoes and drops the groceries onto a table. “Hey, babe.” “Hey.” He throws his keys onto the coffee table and walks over to you. He takes your face with both his hands a plants a soft kiss on your lips. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.” “Yea, well there was something important I needed to tell you.” Gray sits down next to you, still holding your face with one of his hands as he brushes a few hairs out of your face. “Mhm?” You take his hands from your face. You need him to focus on you, or this isn’t going to work. But his arms make their way around your waist. He presses his body against yours, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw all the way down your neck. “Grayson...” “Mm...?” He pushes you gently down onto the couch, his hands traveling from your waist to your neck as he kisses the bridge of your nose. His mouth travels from your cheeks to your ears, gently nibbling them. “Gray, please.” You hold his shoulders and push him off of you, so you’re both sitting directly in front of each other. You can see the disappointment in his eyes. “We need to talk.” He inhales, brushing the hair out of his face. “Of course. What is it?” You look at him, and you just can’t seem to get any words out. He looks so defeated like he’s already lost a fight that hasn’t even begun. You can feel the nervousness radiating off of him, and all you want to do is hold him. Why are you doing this just for a video? Ethan is going to owe you big time for this. You sigh, slipping the ring off of your finger, placing it in front of Gray. You look up at him and see his eyes widen to twice their size. “Y/N...?” He’s looking at you, waiting for something, anything to explain what your doing. “Baby...” You can’t look him in the eyes or you know you’ll break. You use so much willpower just to keep you from cracking a smile. But his eyes remain on you. You’ve got to tell him now or you’ll ruin the prank. 3... “Babe.” 2... “Look at me.” 1... “Y/N!” “The ring is too big!” You throw your head back and burst out laughing, and from around the corner, you can hear the laughter of a certain someone as well. “What...?” Grayson looks at you in disbelief as Ethan comes barreling around the corner. “IT WAS A PRANK YOU DUMBASS!” But he can’t even get the sentence out properly before doubling over, laughing. Grayson’s face flushes red as he exhales the breath he’s been holding. “Oh my god…” he slumps into your arms and buries his face into your chest, and you rub his back as your laughs turn into giggles. “I’m so sorry Gray..!”

His grip around you tightens as you hear his muffled voice. “I hate you so much.”

You run your fingers along the top of his head, playing with his hair. “It was all Ethan’s idea!”

Grayson looks up at Ethan. “You’re a prick, E.”

Ethan is on the floor now, still struggling to contain his laughter. Gray scowls and looks up at you. You see that his eyes are red.

“Babe, are you-”

“Yes, I’m crying! I thought you were going to fucking break up with me!” His voice cracks, and it feels like your heart has too. You hold his face in your hands, gently wiping away the tears running down his face. “Gray…”

He gets up off of your chest and grabs your face, kissing you with such desire that you can’t help but give a tiny moan. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. When you pull apart, he looks at you in a way that tugs at your heart.

“Promise you never fuck me up like that again, okay?”

You kiss his forehead.

“I promise.”

[jakeefer]

Traditions. —— #neon #vintage #americana #spartanburg #diner (at Sugar-n-Spice) https://www.instagram.com/j.a.keefer/p/BwwoaZHgn3M/?igshid=1ijuq12que8x3

[hcnnybcnny-archive]

MEET THE MUSE !

LEGAL NAME: Honey Bunny. ( Honey Lou Bunny is her unofficial ‘full’ name )

NICKNAME[S]: The Amazing Honey Bunny. Honey Bun / Hon ( Bugs ). Daisy Lou. Mrs. Bugs Bunny.

DATE OF BIRTH: May 2nd, 1942

AGE: 76 ( turning 77 this May! )

GENDER: Female.

SPECIES: Toon.

PLACE OF BIRTH: WB STUDIOS.

CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Her primary home is a small apartment on the outskirts of Toon Town. She lives there mostly to go to work as her waitress job / club singing job is nearby. She does have a multitude of burrows around the world, though.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: As a toon Honey has trained to be able to speak and understand multiple languages. We actually hear her speaking in Japanese for a couple of Japan-only Looney Tunes commercials she did alongside Bugs and Daffy!

EDUCATION: Honey actually did attend college as shown in her comics! We also see her as a college woman in some official art as well. I’m still headcanoning on what she went for. But I do know she took a dance class there and is shown a fascination with business / technology / literature so I imagine she must have a degree or two.

OCCUPATION: Adventurer. Waitress at a 50′s themed diner and current main performer at a human-based nightclub called the Recherche Club. ( Former Occupation: Far too many to list. Mains being a former toon celebrity from WB Studios, a Broadway / Opera singer, actress, toon model, lingerie model, etc. )

CRIMINAL RECORD: Does not have a criminal record but has committed a few minor crimes before. Mostly because she was forced or did so accidentally on her adventures.

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS

LIKE[S]: Adventuring / traveling. Motorcycles. Fashion. Technology. Vehicles in general ( motorcycles, race cars, planes, boats, etc ). Sports / exercise / fitness. Skating ( rollerblading / ice skating ). Snowboarding.  Modeling. Fashion. Singing. Certified ‘shopaholic’.

DISLIKE[S]: Being called ‘Bugs in drag’ and being ignored for her other looks. Being called a ‘playboy bunny’ by men or people she performs for. Loud shrill noises.

FEAR[S]: Dip. Being picked up by humans without her permission. Being replaced.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Adventurous. Toon silliness ( has the remarkable optimistic nature and silliness most toons possess. aka: charismatic, charming, colorful, etc. ). Mischievous.  Guarded / distrustful ( routinely treated poorly by the studio she loved, was replaced, and had to face constant emotional abuse from people there to the point where she can barely trust those she loves out of fear of being hurt  ). Flighty ( always seeming to want to be on the move and gets bored in one spot if there too long ). Determined.

{ P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N }

HAIR COLOR: Blonde.

EYE COLOR: Blue ( sometimes green depending on the artist )

HEIGHT: 3’1” ( around 3’7” if you include her ears standing up ; sometimes appears around 4” because of heels she wears as well )..

WEIGHT: as a toon she weighs very light ( thanks toon physics! ). it’s why she can jump so high and can easily float on a parasol. she pretty much weighs next to nothing.

TATTOOS: Two actually! She has a skull and crossbones on her upper arm and a heart with an arrow through it on the top of her foot. She will always have her ‘lovers’ name on her foot as well under the heart depending on the verse.

{ F A M I L Y   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SIBLING[S]: Candy Bunny,Sugar Bunny, Buttercup Bunny [ DECEASED BECAUSE OF DIP ], Spice Bunny, and Tootsie Bunny 

PARENT[S]:  Horatio Bunny. Designed for Honey’s comic debut 20 years after she was first inked. A lazy con artist type. His idea of fun is going to a Playbunny Club, sleeping on the couch, and demanding food. While he does have a good heart, plus is shown to highly support and encourage Bugs love of his daughter ( even in the comics giving Bugs advice ), he’s not exactly the ‘father of the year’ material. He tends to be weak and often will run from a fight. A mother was never mentioned.

CHILDREN:  Honey was supposed to have children with Bugs but they were never fully drawn. In her Dodgers verse she has 4 kids with the youngest being a infant.

PET[S]: A poodle she’s had since the 90′s called ‘Bee’.

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Bi-bi-bunny!

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In mainverse she’s single as she’s the former ex-wife of Bugs. But she has a crush on a certain redhead ( @krupnick ) that she does her best to hide but she’s a dumb bun and constantly gives her feelings away. Wears her heart on her sleeve, she does!

tagged by: @krupnick ( ok i saw honey’s tag and i nyoom’d on it lmao ) tagging: take it :’)