#they taste like a sunrise and syrup and i’m choking up

[rendevok]

step into the light

what do you see?

my sun,

my stars

shining on me

[devilsodas]

night hawks ii

words: 2.6k

pairing: Hayakawa Aki x reader

Also on: ao3

a/n: hope everyone is staying safe and warm! hell (i.e: Texas) has frozen over and this is the first time I’ve had any internet for the past three days, so any mistakes I'll just edit out later! + spoilers for chapter 25 and light mentions of alcohol and canon typical gore

part i | part iii

Her hand rummages through a discarded jacket and pulls out a cigarette, studying it before slotting the stick between her teeth in a fashion you’re all too familiar with. Her smile glints like a branded knife.

“I’ll be sure to finish my business before then. In the meantime--wanna take a puff ?”

ii. peacefall

You don’t think you’ve seen a sunrise so breathtaking. Or at least, you don’t remember seeing one.

Even in your hungover state-- eyelids heavy and bleary in its alcoholic daze--you can still appreciate the warm hues of pink, purple, and blue that glow across your face. Almost sweeter to view up upon the terrace than the sugary syrup you lick off your bottom lip. You rarely have the opportunity to drink at Himeno’s, schedules always too conflicting, and you intend on indulging in every moment while you still have a chance.

Speaking about the eyepatch-clad women, Himeno lazes about across from you, eating her share of fluffy pancakes and speaking about a topic you’re listening to half committedly.

You can’t help but think she appears more reserved than usual, words fluttering through her mouth a mile a second, yet all of it superficial. Just filling the silent morning with noise. At the end of the day, you didn’t really mind though; content with the warm morning shine and your pancakes drowned in strawberry syrup. If she wanted to interrogate you on what your least favorite vegetable was (which were eggplants, those things are horrid) then so be it. Why ruin such a good morning over small details like that?

“Hey, do you like Aki?”

You choke.

A laugh rips through her, the smile resting on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks at you the same way a wolf watches its prey before it pounces, gaze sweeping for weakness, opportunities to strike. But her body language is picture perfect nonchalance, with her legs crossed on the seat and her head resting in her palm.

You blink, embarrassed, waiting for the punchline of whatever unfunny joke she’s dropping on you. And Himeno stays quiet, the only part of her moving is the left eye that watches intently.

You shrug. “I-I mean, I guess-”

She tilts her head. “So you don’t like Aki?”

“No! I mean-Yes!” Heat warms you from the top of your head all the way down your neck. What's this all about? She’s probing you about your affections the same way one would interrogate about the ethics of cannibalism. “ Of course I like him, he’s a friend.”

A long, drawn out sigh leaves her nose. The sickly sweet smile still stained on her lips. “Okay, how about this? Do you like-like Aki? Do you love him?”

You open your mouth, feelings you didn’t know how to phrase on the tip of your tongue, and close it. Busy your hands with the napkin laying in front of you and keep your eyes trained on the horizon; anything to distract you from the question posed before you because in all honesty--you’ve never humored these thoughts before.

Do you love Aki?

He’s a familiar face, someone who always happened to be around--you could hardly remember a time where there wasn’t a Hayakawa Aki in your life. He’d ask if you liked to tag along for lunch with him and Himeno. If he didn’t get the chance? He calls you later that evening. When you’re sick he drops by with medicine and homemade soup. He even walked you home once when you forgot the way to your apartment, and though he complained most of the time, he still made sure you remembered the way and even offered to walk you again the next day.

And when an assignment went awry and you landed in the hospital, he was there when you awoke, shaky hands and tracks of tears you pretended not to notice.

Dependable, familiar, attentive Aki was a close friend who resided even closer to your heart; always feeling lighter after you spoke to him.You couldn’t fathom a world where you didn’t know him, where he didn’t exist.

But does that mean you love him?

The thought makes your heart drop to your stomach, because any pursuit of passion in your profession is just a pipedream. As long as anyone carried that godforsaken badge in their pocket, they became a beacon for self damnation. That’s why devil hunters always dropped like flies, too fast for you to learn their names or bother remembering it. You can’t afford to care too deeply, to hold anyone close to you but yourself.

But you do. And in a world where you face the most grotesque phantoms of reality, are you at fault for attaching to someone who makes it enjoyable? Even for just a moment?

You’re way too hungover for this.

“Hmm, well I like Aki. He’s pretty easy on the eyes, dontcha’ think?”

You raise a questioning brow and meet her gaze, and it's as if she sees right through you. Feeling exposed you busy yourself with the leftover food on your plate. The pancakes are cold and soggy and taste like chalk on your tongue.

“He’s really kind too, y’know? Super selfless.”

“Yeah..”

“And he’s pretty serious..I’ve never met anyone so hung up on that damn gun like Aki is..”

You give a hum.

“Yep. That’s what makes him as good as dead.” Himeno says languidly, the same tone of voice you’d use to talk about the weather and you almost miss it.

Startled, you laugh, it comes out as a forced breath of air. “What’d you mean? Don’t believe in your own buddy’s abilities?”

She looks to the horizon. The sun is creeping along the clouds now, almost in view, but still tucked away. Himeno stares at it with somber eyes, the playful, almost sinister smile wiped clean from her face. A shadow of who she was a moment ago.

“It’s because I believe in him so much..,” She mutters, voice thick, pauses. “Aki is..he’s cool and serious and kind--he’s the type of guy who’d help old ladies on the street, but-”

She looks at you, earnest, “ If you saw him somewhere, you would never think he was a devil hunter because he doesn’t look like--doesn’t act like..”

She points a finger to her chest, then to yours.

Aki isn’t like Himeno. He isn’t like you, either.

Because Aki is normal.

And you, with your spotty memory, are not.

There’s nothing in you that objects to the suggestion, but it doesn’t stop you from resenting Himeno just a little for saying it. For the food in your stomach to feel like stones weighing you down.

You lost your appetite.

“I hope you didn’t get me drunk last night just to tell me how normal Aki is.” Your voice came with more bite than you’d like, but you don’t take it back. Himeno accepts the venom and throws it away, chuckling in response.

“I want him to leave public safety--switch to the private sector or change jobs completely--I don’t care.” She says, “But he can’t stay here.”

“Okay? Why’re you telling me?”

She gives you a look, eye glittering with mischief and a devilish grin on her lips. People say that contracts can only come to fruition between a devil and a human, but if they felt the clutch of Himeno’s perspicacious eye, they’d know bindings between mortals are the most consuming of them all.

“Well..he’d never listen to me.”She drawled, “But if I had someone to give a second opinion..”

And leers up at you.

You scowl, but before you can get a word out Himeno reaches across the table and grips your hands in hers.

“Listen, he’s the first buddy I’ve ever had that hasn’t kicked the bucket in the first six months, you can’t just waste a life like that.” Her voice wavers,your chest pulls at the sound.

“I care about him.” She says.

“And if he’s such a friend that you like,then you must care about him too, no?”

You fix your gaze to the intertwined hands and Himeno gives them a warm squeeze, a summer smile. Your cheeks flush.

You can’t remember the last time someone held your hand.

You’ve been in public safety as far back as you can remember, for a good chunk of your life you’ve been wearing the same uniform everyday, but you barely know any of your co-workers. There were familiar faces you could halfway recognize in the fourth division, and you’re sure you’ve probably had a good conversation with a couple of them, but a harsh assignment would come around and you’d..well..forget.

Maybe people took that as you being apathetic. To be budding friends one day and give them the cold shoulder the next. Or maybe they thought it to be a fruitless endeavor. Why be friends with someone you could never reap the benefits of a close connection from?And as your memory left, so did everyone else.

Then you met Aki.

When you think of your first meeting, you can’t remember much except for the fact you gave him a bloody nose that you never apologized for. But even after that, he spoke to you the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And then before you knew, you’d go out to lunch with him and Himeno. Help out with groceries, he’d come to your apartment and help you relearn whatever kitchen appliance you forgot how to use.

That’s what makes him as good as dead

You can hardly remember days where Aki wasn’t around, and you’ve never doubted his abilities enough to consider he never would be, but Himeno wasn’t wrong.

Aki is cool and serious. Dependable and selfless. A kind guy you’d see on the street.

A normal guy.

That’s what makes him as good as dead.

And no matter how strong you are, normal never survives in a fight against the irrational fears of others.

The thought alone leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Because a world without Aki wasn’t a world you wanted to relearn.

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not asking him first, you bring it up.”

Himeno gives you a grin, spreading as smooth as margarine across her face and you almost hate how infectious it is. Your mouth twitches.

“But y’know,” You say belatedly,“ caring for others is a pretty typical thing. With the way things are going, we’ll be six feet under before we can help anyone else.”

Her hand rummages through a discarded jacket and pulls out a cigarette, studying it before slotting the stick between her teeth in a fashion you’re all too familiar with. Her smile glints like a branded knife.

“I’ll be sure to finish my business before then. In the meantime--wanna take a puff ?”

“Hell no.”

A year and one bullet wound later, Special Division Four shrinks to five members.

You don’t know the movie you’re watching.

Eyes glazed and unfocused, you stared at the television screen as a mess of muddy and muted blues and blacks gave way to a blooming primrose red. The delicate color bleeds into every corner of the screen until it seeps its way into the apartment, consuming all four of you in an eye straining scarlet that makes your eyes burn. You blink and ah,

It’s blood.

The crimson sucks the technicolor vibrance of everything around it, the wailing women on screen appearing more lifeless than her wound suggested. A pair of hands came into view, haphazardly pressing makeshift gauze on her abdomen. It was shrapnel, and if you weren’t so out of it, you might have looked away in disgust from where it protruded.

Instead, you ogled the television, taking in every pixel until it’s seared into your mind. Your own messily wrapped abdomen throbs at the scene and you move to thumb at it, to rip the gash open wide once again in hopes of keeping the memory of why it’s there.

Because there's a familiar tug in your gut, a ringing in your ear, that tells you that this wound will join a litany of scars that you have but don’t remember why. And it terrifies you.

Because Himeno is dead, and the ghost that always haunts the graves of her colleagues will not be buried herself.

There wasn’t a body left to bury.

Aki stops your hand before it can make contact with your shirt, and changes the channel.

You probably shouldn’t have been watching it anyways, but Denji picked it. And, from what you gathered, the kid has only seen one movie in his life. It felt wrong to say no.

(Then again, him and Power are off snoozing together on the edge of the couch, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you shut it off, not that Aki cared.)

Your side still hurts. You squeeze his hand.

It’s warm.

“I heard Madoka quit.” He murmurs.

You blink, a pair of glasses and a faded scar comes to mind, and nod, a little dazed and foggy-eyed.

“The new girl, what's her name? Kobento?”

“Kobeni.” Aki interrupts.

“She told me she’s gonna resign soon.”

The studs in his ear shimmer in the perwinkle halo of the room, catching your eye. A children show is playing now, one of the characters is moving away. They all huddle together, teary eyed, and cry.

Aki changes the channel.

“Do you think it’s the right choice?” You look at him, but he keeps his gaze on the tv, “quitting, I mean.”

Your side hurts. You squeeze his hand. His right eye’s a little foggy.

(Distantly you wonder if it’s due to the Future Devil. Did it show him what you’d do if he didn’t catch your hand? Or was it all Aki’s intuition?)

“It’s better for them to quit now while they're ahead then find out later.” He answers.

It’s a chick-flick. The heroine’s reuniting with someone she met before, they embrace in the rain.

You change the channel.

“Why? Are you considering quitting?” In the corner of your eye, his earring flashes and moves, he turned his gaze to you.

The back of your mind thrums like a war drum and your mouth feels thick and gummy. Your gut lurches, urgent. There’s something you wanted to say to him, something he needed to know, but you draw a blank.

You turn your head, Aki is still turned to you. The tv screen gleams a bright white and your breath hitches. He looks awful; paler than you remember and two, crescent moon bruises under his eyes. He’s still waiting for a response.

He looks glassy, almost transparent and you wonder if you should say anything at all. Terrified to say the wrong thing because there’s a weight behind his gaze when he looks at you and you might just crumple under it; might just say the wrong thing and he’ll break.

‘That damn gun’

Oh. Right.

You reach out to cradle his cheek with your free hand and he leans into your palm, (was it the future devil or aki’s intuition) gently swiping your thumb on the lavender skin that resided there.

It’s still warm. You hope he gets some sleep after tomorrow.

“I gave up too much to stop now, I have to at least meet the devil waiting at the end of this. We have to meet the devil waiting at the end of this”

‘That damn gun’

The words felt muddy on your tongue. Was that the wrong thing to say?

Aki sobers up and nods. You give him a (summer) smile.

Denji and Power startle themselves awake and you jump, moving your hand. He clears his throat and rest his palm where your hand used to be, thumb absentmindedly sweeping under his eye and your cheeks feel hot.

You must’ve circled back on the channels, because it’s showing the first movie. The women lays in a hospital room now, abdomen smothered in gauze and dressing, but she still bleeds through. Shocking the white surroundings in a hot pink.

Your side throbs, Aki squeezes your hand.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Can't quite believe you'd write a fic for little old me 🥰 Ezra is one of my favourites, I adore the dichotomy of the character, he's dangerous but soft, educated but unrefined. I love fics with feels, to me the emotion is what makes smut really connect. Maybe something from before he goes to the green? One final night with his lady before he knows he has to leave. Or conversely, a reunion after he and Cee escape. I'd be happy with anything at all. I know whatever you write will be amazing ❤

The Promise of Forever, pt 1/2

So... I got carried away by this. It’s gonna be a 2-parter.

Warnings: shameless, indulgent angst.

It’s been a whole year since you saw Ezra.

Sometimes you wonder if you made him up. His lick of blond hair, the languid way he speaks, as if he swallowed a sedative and the dictionary together on one wild night.

You can hardly feel the ghost of his touch any more, if you even recalled it properly to begin with.

“One last venture, Sunrise, and we’ll be set for the remainder of our days. I’ll be kneeling at your feet with my haul before you even know I’m gone.”

You clung to those words for the first few weeks. Still clung to them when the communicator crackled now and again, but no trace of Ezra’s syrup-over-broken-glass tones could be heard.

You moved aimlessly through the days at first. Nova-3 was a pleasant enough planet to make a home on - not too expensive, clean air, plentiful water. The twenty-foot trees got some getting used to, but now you found them a comforting shelter from what you knew to be the merciless expanse of space.

You knew Ezra had existed. You knew. And not just in your heart. You had the polaroid camera - a find in a junk shop on Polaris II; and the shop owner had sold you a compatible roll of film for a pretty penny - and pictures of Ezra littered the refrigerator. His sunshine-smile, a little crooked. He joked that it was a reflection of his skewed morality. His hands, the little circular tattoo on his left one that you sometimes kissed while he slept. His big, soulful brown eyes.

“I miss you, Ez,” you’d muttered for the first few months.

Then the weather turned, the huge trees turned from purple to a deep gold, the wind gentled, the seasons changed.

You missed him still, the ache got deeper, but you felt it less, some days. His side of the bed remained unslept in, after two weeks you had to change the sheets, and they no longer smelled like him.

You cried, the first night your bed smelled of laundry powder and not your sweet Ezra.

He’d left a few pieces of clothing behind and you slept in one of his shirts until it grew threadbare, drawing comfort from his clothing against your skin. When the shirt fell apart after constant washing and wearing, you curled up a strip of the neckline and tucked it into the locket he’d given you when you’d been together six months.

“Perhaps it’s overstepping the mark, Sunrise, although I’d wager you know that propriety and I have never seen eye to eye, but I chanced upon this and I thought of you. You have the promise of forever in your gaze, Sunrise, and I am but your humble servant, hoping for a crumb of your affection.”

You hadn’t taken it off since.

Your work continued, you’d accepted a position at the local botanist centre, cultivating new plants by splicing the seeds of herbs and flowers with healing properties. You’d made a few friends, you met them for drinks sometimes. Had even made a cocktail from one of your new plants. You’d called it the Sunrise. You knew Ezra would had laughed.

A man at the centre had asked you for dinner twice. You’d turned him down, but if he asked again, maybe you’d say yes. 

Maybe he’d touch you like Ezra had. 

You so wanted to be touched.

Then one not so special day, as the trees that passed your window had started to turn silver, signalling the start of winter sinking its teeth into the planet, your door buzzer crackled to life.

You hadn’t ordered any food. Some mistake, maybe? A lost traveller?

You depressed the button to connect. “Hello?”

A crackle, then, a girl’s voice, asking to confirm your name.

Must be a lost delivery driver. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Ezra asked me to bring him here,” the girl said into the comm.

Thank Kevve you hadn’t been holding anything. You would have dropped it. “Wh- what?” You must have misheard.

The girl repeated herself. “Can we come up?”

“I’ll come down.” You took your finger off the button and your hand was shaking. You took two deep breaths, pocketed your keycard, and hurried down the stairs.

You yanked open the front door.

The girl before you gazed at you with a clear, steady gaze. She wore nondescript clothes - jeans, a plain salmon pink sweater.

And leaning heavily on her was Ezra. Your Ezra. Here.

“Kevva,” you whispered, your heart leaping into your mouth. Ezra’s eyes lifted to yours, that soulful brown just like you remembered. A thousand words dried up on your tongue.

“Sunrise…” he murmured, but his voice was low and weak. No quick quip, no crooked smile.

“He needs to rest,” the girl interjected.

“Of course. Come in.” Your mind whirled with what their relationship might be, and as you swiped your keycard into the elevator slot to open the doors, you noticed that Ezra’s right arm was missing. His button-up shirt was loose, open three buttons down, the grey not injecting any colour to make his pale face any brighter. The right sleeve was tied neatly.

You pressed your lips together. Should you touch him? The girl seemed to have a handle on it, and confusion and sadness twisted your stomach.

The elevator pinged open four floors up, and you busied yourself opening the door to your home - yours and Ezra’s home - and holding it open.

“I’m Cee,” the girl said matter-of-factly, and you hurried over to help her lay Ezra on the couch once you realised her intent. Just touching him made a hot burst of serotonin flood your veins. “Took him to a doctor yesterday and they patched him up, but he refused to stay there more than one night. Wanted to see you.” Her lip curled in that teenage way. “He won’t shut up about you.”

“He does talk a lot,” you agreed, and Cee smiled slightly.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you dropped to your knees and smoothed your fingers over the blond tuft of hair on his head. It felt as soft as you remembered, and your heart turned over. “Ezra.”

He opened those bottomless brown eyes and met your gaze, and a sob wracked up your throat. “My… deepest apologies.. For the delay…. Sunrise.”

And upon hearing his voice, by far the most integral part of him, the dam broke, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck and sobbed, hearing your own voice crack like dry ground under the sun too long.

“I’ll, um, come back later. Gotta, um…. Yeah,” you vaguely heard Cee say, and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the door closing behind her.

You cried for moments that stretched, breathing him in, your hand on his chest, just feeling his heart beating against your palm.

After a time, Ezra’s remaining arm curled around you, and you felt his fingers playing in your hair.

“Soft as spun sugar, Sunrise. I remembered you right.”

And those words made you cry harder, press yourself into him. “I was beginning to think I made you up,” you choked out, hearing your own voice clogged with tears and emotion so heavy it dragged at your limbs. “I thought maybe I’d never see you again.”

Ezra huffed softly. “Know that it was ever my most acute intention to return to you, Sunrise,” he murmured, kissing your hair.

Your hand wandered to what was left of his right arm. “What happened here?”

His face twisted. “Returnin’ to you in such a state pains me more than you can know,” he bit off darkly. “Regrettably, it was the arm or my life. Cee did a good, clean job, and the doc we saw yesterday patched me up further.” His hand clenched on your neck reflexively. “I… will understand if you no longer find me-”

Words failed you, because there was no universe where you would not want Ezra, this perfect puzzle of a man with his measured speech and bottomless heart and eyes that were like looking into his soul. You interrupted his words with a kiss. Your first kiss in an entire year of heartache, of tears, a whole year of empty beds and foggy memories.

Ezra opens for you, and you taste him, cheap, black coffee with too much sugar, and a moan escapes you, and you wrap your arms tight around him.

“Ezra,” you sobbed, brokenly. “You came back.”

“Always. It was my greatest fear, shuffling off this mortal coil without seeing my Sunrise one more time.”

And his words made you cry harder again, making his face wet with your tears, but he doesn’t complain. He takes what you dish out, and his arm stays tight around you.

“Tell me about Cee,” you asked, when your tears had started to run dry.

“Sunrise, the tale is a long one, and I fear at this moment in time, my energies would be best spent…. Elsewhere.” He smiled, and his gaze flicked down his body, and you followed the path of those hazelnut eyes and saw his cargo trousers tenting.

Oh.

Part II is now up here

Tagging the Pedro pals & Hummingbird ‘verse friends: @alldatalost @beccaplaying @ezrasarm @abuttoncalledsmalls @winters-buck @songsformonkeys @mrsparknuts @pajamasecrets @the-green-kid @dornish-queen @mrschiltoncat @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @cryptkeepersoul @queenofheavenandhell @badassbaker @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @theravenreads @libellule2001 @engineeredfiction @keeper0fthestars @hiscyarika @auty-ren @emmy-dandiliom918 @paniclana @starlight-starwrites @kindablackenedsuperhero @thisisthe-way @caitlincat-95 @trippedmetaldetector @harryandthatgayvodka @agirllovespasta

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[romantic-barnes]

gin, tonic & a lemon on top

Pairings: fluffy!bucky x bartender!reader

Summary: Maybe Bucky’s an alcoholic or maybe he just has a crush on the sweet like syrup bartender.

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Bucky Barnes, the college student struggling to put food on his plate, eating ramen noodles like any other in his shoes. The one who spends too much money on textbooks and tutors, now sitting at the bar of one of the few places good enough to pay a visit to.

Bucky has a knack for alcohol, not the bad type; he just enjoys himself a long-drink or a cocktail once in a while. It’s something that struck his interest oddly enough. 

Now here he sat, a Knickerbocker Martini in hand but his eyes fixed on the woman behind the bar.

She’s somethin’ else.

Her all black outfit blended her in with the other staff if you didn’t care to look hard enough (or too drunk). 

Bucky emptied his drink in one gulp, the dry vermouth stinging in his throat. 

“Excuse me?” He called out, catching the attention of the girl. She walked over to him, a polite smile on her pink lips.

“What can I get you?”

“A gin tonic, doll.” 

She went right ahead, grabbing a glass from behind her, filling the glass with ice and alcohol, a slice of lemon on top. She slid the drink in his direction taking Bucky’s money in return.

He stared at the drink for a minute, his eyebrows wrinkling. “Where’s the cucumber?” He asked, not rudely, but with a smirk playing on his lips.

The bartender chuckled. “Well, if you must know, Tanquery gin is actually infused with citrus fruit, not cucumber.” She leaned on the counter, pointing a finger at the drink. “That’s why we put a slice of lemon in it.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, dumbfounded by the knowledge he was hit with. He could smell her perfume from the close proximity.

-

Bucky send Steve a quick apology, arriving at the bar just in time for happy hour. 

Although he could’ve hung out with Steve and Scott, he’d rather spend his time eyeing the pretty bartender, besides drinking. 

Bucky slipped onto the bar stool he had almost claimed for himself and started to look around for her. He didn’t know her name, or if she even worked tonight, but he was hopeful nonetheless. 

Just in time for him to order, she appeared around the corner, walking behind the bar. They locked eyes and Bucky flashed her a million dollar smile. 

“You again. Should I be worried you’re stalking me?” 

“Oh god no, but I should call the police on you and have them arrest you for being so damn pretty.” Bucky shut his mouth before he could say anything further. His face glowing red afraid he stepped over a line.

“Please do, I like being handcuffed.” She winked at Bucky and he chuckled. 

“Kinky.” 

“What are you having today?” 

“Mojito.” Bucky said without looking at the small menu of drinks.

“Classic. I see.” 

She went ahead and mixed his drink, throwing a few leaves of mint in a glass, lime and syrup. Ice was added and liquid. She finished off his drink with powdered sugar on top of a tree of mint. 

Bucky took a sip from it, satisfaction written on his face. “No brown sugar?” 

The bartender chuckled. “No, we make our Mojito the Italian way.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky took another sip, contend with the taste.

“Because the owner is Italian.”

-

The following week Bucky couldn’t wait to see the cute bartender again. Between classes he tried on different outfits to find one that would look good enough to catch her attention, but also casual enough to not seem desperate for it.

His efforts didn’t go unnoticed though, his two friends teasing him and asking questions nonstop. Bucky wouldn’t give in to it though, his mind focused on the girl he was trying to impress. 

The days ended slower than Bucky would like to and friday rolled around after all. He mentally prepared himself to make a move, exhaling heavily upon entering the bar. 

Sat on the bar stool he had chosen as his favourite, he watched with curious eyes, the girl mixing drinks with ease, like it’s so engraved in her body she doesn’t have to look at the bottles to know which one is which.

“Hey there.” She smiled, approaching Bucky. 

“Hey.” Bucky wiped his hands on his jeans. “Can you recommend something for me?” 

She thought for a moment, grabbing all the ingredients, mixing them up and setting the finished product on the bar top. 

Bucky was about to fish money out of his wallet, but she stopped him. 

“This ones on me.” 

Bucky’s cheeks warmed up from the gesture, shyly looking away from her eyes to the drink in front of him. Within seconds he could tell it was Tequila Sunrise, the orange to red gradient giving it away.

“A Tequila Sunrise?” Bucky quirked a brow, stirring the orange and red together. 

“It’s my favourite.” She watched as he sipped. “I like my drinks like I like my men. Sweet.” She said, quiet enough for only Bucky to hear.

He choked slightly, making her laugh. She walked away tending to the other customers, her head turning to him, winking.

He forgot all about the move he wanted to make, too flustered to say another word.

-

“Just take us with you, Buck come on!” Scott whined.

“Yeah, we wanna know who took your sanity.” Steve followed up, smiling at his friend.

“No, you guys are just going to embaress me.” Bucky mumbled, sliding his arms through his jacket. 

Despite all efforts to keep Steve and Scott away, they insisted and wouldn’t drop it until Bucky gave in, even following him outside. 

They reached the bar, Bucky nervously biting his lip. Luckily for him, there seemed to be a good amount of people scattered around the bar to keep the barkeeper distracted.

He needed to find the courage somewhere within himself to speak up, but Steve took the lead waving his arm at the girl. Bucky lowered his head afraid of what might come.

“Good evening gentlemen, what can I get you?” 

“I’ll have a uh,” Steve took a quick glance at the menu, “Apricot Lady.”

“One Bee’s Kiss for me.” Scott said, glancing over to Bucky to let him order.

He slowly lifted his head, surprise in the bartenders eyes as they connected with his. “A Moscow Mule.” He smiled shyly.

“Is that her?” Scott asked earning a confused look from her. Bucky’s cheeks tinting bright red.

She smirked, working on the three cocktails. “Depends on who I’m supposed to be.”

“Excuse my friends, they’re idiots.” Bucky glared at Scott and then Steve who were smiling, knowing exactly that she’s the woman he’s been so whipped for.

She set the drinks in front of the three men, tending to the other costumers at the bar. 

“Why haven’t you made your move yet?” Steve looked at Bucky.

Bucky let his shoulders drop, his lips forming to a frown. “I don’t know if she likes me.” 

“Aw come on, anyone with eyes can see that she’s interested to see what Bucky Barnes has in store.” Scott patted Bucky on his shoulder a reassuring smile on his face.

“Look, she’s coming back.” Steve nodded to her and Bucky’s gaze shifted from his friends to the bartender. “We’re just going to go get some fresh air.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but both Scott and Steve were already out of reach.

“Your friends left you all alone, how rude.” She said, leaning her elbows on the bar top, her head resting in the palms of her hands. 

“Yes, they uh - they.” Bucky stuttered, quickly trying to search for some confidence, unsuccessfully. 

The bartender leaned in, her eyes warm and full of affection. “My shift ends in ten minutes, maybe I could accompany you instead of your friends.” 

Bucky’s mouth opened slightly, taken back by the question.

“I promise I won’t abandon you like them.” 

Bucky nodded a smile stretching across his face. “I’d love that.”

“What’s your name?” She asked, slowly moving away from the bar top. 

“Bucky and yours?”

“Y/n.”

[pascalls]

Huzzah! A romance prompt:

Hot Chocolate

I finally wrote something for this and it’s so dumb but I hope you all enjoy it. Featuring Charlie, Sam the Barfly, and Moe (and also Barney a little bit). 

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

With the taste of malt liquor stale on his tongue, Charlie found himself coming back to consciousness, a musky scent filling his nose and making him want to gag. The greasy floor he was laying on was hard and uncomfortable, having left his bones aching and his back feeling like he’d just been hit by a car. His eyes opened, despite his brain not wanting to, and for once, he was thankful that the lighting in Moe’s was subpar, at best. The dusty interior was not an aggravated assault on the senses, but still, he would have liked to have woken up in a bed instead of on the hard tile. 

“Ugh… What time is it,” he groaned, not yet sitting up, but at least trying to peer over to where Moe was hovering, lazily wiping down the bar top with an overused rag. There was no way it was morning yet. Or, at least, it wasn’t past sunrise. Otherwise Moe would be pouring vodka into his bowl of Froot Loops. It didn’t seem like he’d gone to bed yet. 

“Two-thirty,” the bartender responded. He didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Charlie had passed out on the floor. Not like it was the first time. As of late, the hybrid had a bad habit of finding some kind of substance, chasing it with his body weight in whiskey, and then promptly falling asleep before he could make it back to the reverend’s. “You slept with Barney.”

“I what-?!” Charlie exclaimed, pushing himself up, only to whack his head on the underside of the table he’d holed up under. His ears rang and he groaned again, reaching up to rub at his scalp. Ow.

“Oh. Hah. Sorry. I meant you fell asleep under the table next to Barney.”

Charlie glanced over to see that Moe was correct. Barney had somehow rolled off the bar stool he’d been sitting on a few hours prior, passing out unceremoniously underneath the large circular table that was neighbor to Charlie’s. The hybrid muttered to himself before eventually crawling out from under his sleeping spot, making his way over to the bar to sit and glaring at Moe. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that ever again.”

They weren’t alone. While Barney had opted for a nap, Charlie recognized a few others still lingering in the wee hours of the morning. He assumed both Lenny and Carl had staggered home not too long ago, but both Larry and Sam remained, neither seeming to be very invested in their own consciousness. As was the usual. Charlie’s stare lingered for just a moment before Moe was pulling his attention back. 

“You wanna nightcap?” He asked, already in the process of grabbing a nearby bottle which Charlie quickly refused. His stomach was churning a bit from his previous binge. He didn’t need to lose everything he’d eaten during the day on top of his splitting headache and exhaustion. 

“No, m’fine. I should probably… go before somebody gets on my ass about not being where I need to be.” 

“Alright, but you better not be drivin’.” Moe pointed at the hybrid with a squint; one that Charlie returned in kind.

“I don’t have a car.” 

“I figured you’d steal one.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because that’s what I’d do.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie scooted off the stool and made his way to the door, passing the other two men briefly and giving them a passing wave. He’d talked to the pair once or twice. They were wordier when they were drunk, but only just so. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie reminded himself, that Sam knew a little more about Charlie by pure happenstance. Thankfully, he’d remained fairly quiet about that too. 

Swinging open the door, Charlie took a few steps outside before he realized - a little too late - that rain was coming down fairly heavily. There was no wind to carry it in one direction or another, the drops simply pouring onto the pavement and soaking Charlie entirely. The hybrid stared dully into the distance. This might as well happen. 

He didn’t move from where he was, just sort of standing there on the sidewalk and feeling his clothes get more and more soaked through. His brain didn’t seem to think that was much of an issue, but his feet refused to carry him in the direction of home. Instead, he continued to stare into nothingness, exhaustion - and a sudden heavy veil of listlessness - keeping him rooted to the spot. Somewhere along the line, he began to realize that his temperature was dropping. That was probably not good. He’d have to fix that before long.

“...You’re gettin’ all wet.”

The voice pulled him back to the present, turning and noticing that Sam and Larry had finally made their way out of Moe’s, presumably to retire for the night before they too passed out next to Barney. Larry was already walking away, his jacket collar pulled up in a fruitless effort to protect him from the rain. Sam, on the other hand, at least had an umbrella keeping him dry as he stared at Charlie with some manner of concern. 

“...Uh. Yeah. I guess I am,” Charlie replied, blinking once or twice and then glancing down at himself. Hm. Well. Yeah. He was wet. Wow.

Sam glanced around briefly before taking a few steps over and placing the umbrella over the both of them. As he spoke, his words slurred, but Charlie didn’t notice over his own foggy state of mind. “You’re not some kinda marine iguana or somethin’ right? I think they like water. Saw it on uh… Mm… That… science… channel once.”

“National Geographic?” Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nah…” Sam replied. “ESPN 2.”

The hybrid snorted in amusement. “No. I’m not a marine iguana. I’m just… really drunk, I think.” Among other things. He’d taken some mixture of pills that he would not recommend to anyone else. But they would make their way out of his system eventually. “Uh… Thanks. For the…” He gestured to the umbrella. 

“Honestly, this weather ain’t great for walking. Y’think Moe’s got anything to eat in there?”

Charlie seemed to give that some thought. It was already the middle of the night. And if Lovejoy wasn’t blowing up his phone by now, the chances of him noticing any time before sunrise was slim. He hummed a little under his breath before shrugging. It was probably best he filled his stomach with something other than booze and pills. 

“Let’s ask.”

Sam didn’t need much convincing himself before he moved to keep them marginally dry as they wandered back into the bar. Moe had been in the process of trying to roll Barney over with a broom so he could sweep up underneath him, but glanced up when the door opened again. Charlie shook the water from himself as best as he could, but it was to little avail. He’d probably just need to wait until he was dry.

Closing the umbrella, Sam tossed it against the wall near the door and settled himself back on the stool where he’d been before, Charlie scooting up and onto the one next to him. As long as Barney was passed out, the hybrid took some time to pull off his mask and other effects which were fairly soaked through, placing them on the stool next to him and breathing out a little sigh. Moe had seen him a few times by now. It seemed like more and more people knew what he looked like as time went on. At that particular moment, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Tell me you’ve got something to eat,” Charlie asked as Moe drifted back over, looking over the rain-soaked man with some scrutiny. 

“I’ve got uh… Probably some Spam sitting around somewhere. Lemme look.”

“I’m having a hard time turning that down.” Charlie wasn’t going to be picky. And apparently, neither was Sam, as the man said nothing.

Moe disappeared in the back room for a time, clattering around among his shelves and god knew what else. Charlie watched as a roach slid out from the doorway and promptly disappeared into the nearest electrical socket. There was a little buzz, a hiss, and the roach did not re-emerge. The hybrid assumed that whatever it saw in the back room was heinous enough for the little bug to end it all.

“Well lookee here!” Moe proclaimed as he re-emerged, holding a half-empty jug of milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup that looked like it came from the 70’s. “It ain’t Spam, but it’s somethin’, huh? Check this out.”

“Chocolate milk?” Sam asked, staring at the bartender. 

“Nah. Even better.” Moe brought over the ingredients, pouring the milk into a few glasses and squirting the chocolate… syrup (it looked more like sauce at this point) into it soon after. He then held up each mug in turn, using a lighter to heat up the bottom of the glass before plopping a few stale marshmallow Peeps that were sad and dull from their time spent hidden somewhere in the cabinets beneath the bar. Presumably from Easter. ...This past Easter, hopefully.

Pleased with himself, Moe offered two of the glasses to Charlie and Sam who stared at the brown concoction that was making short work of dissolving those Peeps into rainbow mush that floated at the top of the layer of milk. “See? Hot cocoa! PERFECT for them rainy days like this one.” As if to sell the mixture, he took a long swig of his own, choking back the drink with a few hacked coughs and then offering his two patrons a grimacing smile. “Eh? EH?!”

Charlie squinted down at his own before coming to the conclusion that… he really didn’t even care what he put into his own body at this point. And the chocolate DID smell at least a little enticing. So with a little glance at Sam and a shrug, he upended his own into his mouth. It was not great. In fact, one might even say that it was terrible. The milk was absolutely close to spoiling, if not already spoiled, and the Peeps floated around in his mouth in chunky bits. But he downed the drink dutifully. It was warm, if nothing else. And it’d keep him from drifting off into a hypothermic coma. 

“...It’s great, Moe,” Charlie replied once he was able to say anything about it at all. A blatant lie, but the bartender was content with the review. The hybrid just hoped he wouldn’t put it on his ‘menu’ as a permanent addition. 

“Uh… yeah. Really… great.” Sam added, having had a bit of a harder time with his own, but he too didn’t find it very necessary to spoil Moe’s spirits. But the two shared a knowing glance, watching as Moe, triumphant that he’d created something worthwhile for once in his life, scurried off to write down his ‘recipe’. 

Charlie pushed his empty glass away, poking his tongue out a little in disgust. Egh. “We can never tell him.”

Sam did the same with his own, wishing that he’d just ordered another beer instead. “...Yeah, I’m on board with that.” 

“And so the pact is sealed,” Charlie joked, reaching up with a hand to offer his pinky claw to the other. “I would say we should seal it in blood, but I’m already suffering with this aftertaste.” 

Sam offered a little smirk before reaching up to hook his own pinky with Charle’s. “Takin’ it to the grave.” 

Their hands remained touching for a few seconds, a delayed reaction only bringing Charlie’s back to himself after a prolonged met gaze, his eyes flicking away in mild embarrassment. He was drunk. They were both drunk. Reaching up, Charlie absently ran a hand through his hair to try and make it a little more… presentable. He wasn’t sure why. 

Well. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t sure why.

Moe’s return chased away the moment. He’d come back with more random ‘ingredients’ he’d found in the back storeroom.

Charlie and Sam gave a few little groans. Had Charlie known they’d be given the job as taste-testers, he might have just walked back to Lovejoy’s in the storm. 

But… he wasn’t alone here. Even if he’d never get the taste of stale Peeps off his tongue, he at least felt content with the knowledge that there was a warmth keeping him from drifting too far into the cold loneliness of the rain. 

Yeah. This was better.

[fairytsuk1]

do you pinky promise, papa? (f)

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

words: 1383

summary: it’s datenshi’s first day at school! here’s how the morning goes.

a/n: surprise bitch, thought you’d seen the last of me? BOOM. part two, let’s roll

   The gentle sunrise cascaded through the windows and shone on the small of your back. Shoto gently traced the area with the tips of his fingers. He enjoyed watching the light dance around and reflect shadows on the wall. With a small smile, he nudged your head upwards and began to trace your pulse with his teeth. The soft kisses left a prickly feeling on your skin as you squirmed under his touch.

“St-nngh-stop. Shoto…” you drawled sleepily and twisted in his arms while he chuckled, “you’re being a tease. I’m sleepy.”

   “I’m not doing anything. You should wake up though, Datenshi wants pancakes for her first day.”

“Yeah yeah, I hear you. Next time, wake me up differently! Unless you’re actually looking for something more explicit,” your features focused a glare on his dual colored eyes. Sitting up, you could feel your bones pop and muscles ache when you pushed yourself up to stand. You chose to ignore the lingering eyes on your figure.

“You’re annoying. And the biggest pervert I know.”      “No fair. I can see you sitting there on the bed when I come out of the shower, you’re just as guilty. It’s a good thing I love you, our new neighbor looks pretty cute hm?”

“Uh huh. Her boyfriend’s pretty hot too. Get ready,” you patted his blanket covered calf and stalked towards the bathroom.

  Todoroki rolled over and became a blanket burrito. You scrubbed mint toothpaste on your teeth as you walked out to find your childish husband looking at you with a gentle smile. God, he was so annoying. But…you still loved him. Even if he was a big baby.

   Spitting out the paste, you quickly rinsed your mouth and walked on tiptoes towards your thermostat. Upping the heat so your morning could be more bearable, you ambled towards the kitchen to start breakfast. Datenshi was beginning her first day of first grade and she was oddly more nervous about it than kindergarten. Pulling out the griddle, you got to work using leftover soup, pancake batter, and eggs to create a breakfast fit for a queen.

   For a second, you briefly wondered if this was worth the effort. That is, until you heard the tell-tale of feet padding down the hallway. Yeah. It was worth it. Especially if you got to see your baby’s smiling face.

   “Papa?” Datenshi rose on her toes to peek at her father’s face, he was completely asleep! It’s her first day, he said he’d be there with her every step so he should be awake like everyone else! Datenshi had already seen you while walking past the kitchen, you were hard at work and she was excited to eat!      “Wake up papa!”

   No response. The snoring seemed even louder like a dinosaur or volcano. This called for serious matters. She went to the corner of the bed frame to use as a step stool, before pulling herself up on the bed and looming over him. Now she was all tired, and he still wasn’t awake! Mama’s right, he is annoying!

   Closing her eyes and spreading her arms wide, she jumped forward and bounced off Shoto’s sleeping figure to land beside him. A gasp and a choke forced it’s way out of Shoto’s throat as he struggled to orient himself.

   Did his daughter want him to die? He unraveled himself and sat up to look at the giggling little girl staring up at him.

“Why would you do something like that?? You’re gonna give me a heart attack someday!” More laughter.

   “You were sleeping papa! Mama made breakfast and I need help getting ready for school! Also, I’m nervous and you said you’d be there the whole morning!”

“Ah, I’m sorry Shi-Shi. I’m wide awake now so you don’t need to worry,” he pulled Datenshi into his chest and gently kissed the top of her head, “good morning. Why are you nervous? It’ll be a piece of cake for you, I have lots of faith in you.”

   “I know. But this time you’re really gone the whole day and I have to be in a new classroom and everything! What if someone makes fun of my light-up shoes?” she confessed every worry that a seven year old could have. Pushing harder into her father’s chest, she sought out more comfort.

“First of all, your light-up shoes are awesome. Don’t let anyone tell you something stupid like that. You’re worth more than a pair of shoes! Second, we are always with you, Shi-Shi. Whenever you feel alone, you have to know me and mama are there in your heart. And whenever you feel scared or lonely, feel the warmth. Cause that’s mama and I with you in that moment. No matter how far apart we are, we will never leave you. I pinky promise that!”

   “…Feel the warmth, that’s you and mama. I think I get it. I feel really warm and happy right now, is it you?”

“Definitely. Now let’s go conquer first grade! I love you, so have no fears.”

   A wide smile showed her baby teeth as he kissed her on the nose. Oh, how he wished he could be there with her forever. He loves her. So much. They locked pinkies together and she leaned in for another hug, her worries were long gone.

“Heeey! We don’t have all day, you rascals better hurry up!”

   Downstairs, you plated food for your husband and daughter. You didn’t have to look up to know the gentle feet were Shoto. Looking up, you saw Datenshi in his arms as he marveled at the food and then at your face.

   Their bedhead was clear and you almost laughed at how similar they looked. Messy hair with two different colored eyes. Shoto placed her on a barstool before rounding the corner to give you a sweet kiss. You tasted like mint and syrup, you’d already eaten a pancake or two. A noise of disgust interrupted the intimate moment as Datenshi picked up her chopsticks.

   “No kissing at the dinner table! Or bar…whatever! Good morning, mama and thanks for the food! Me and daddy talked about lots of stuff upstairs, but it’s a secret so I can’t tell you.”

“A secret? Oh, I’m crushed Shi-Shi! How could you keep something away from me…” mocking sadness, you pressed the back of your hand to your forehead and leaned against the bar.

   “Okay well…I’ll tell you a little! But only a little! All we talked about was-mhm, this is good!-was about how you’ll always be in my heart even if you’re not actually there!”

“He’s right. And thanks, I made it with love,” you leaned across to pinch her nose and smile at her, “now hurry and eat! I’m gonna help you look the best you can!”

   Looking over at Shoto, you noticed him watching the scene with love in his eyes. He smiled before beginning to clean up.

   “Are you coming mama? Hurry up! I don’t wanna be late!”

   Feet ran up the stairs quickly being followed by a loud thud and an I’m okay!. Then a door was slammed shut.

“Bossy isn’t she? Reminds me of someone…”

   “Shut your trap! I’m not bossy, I just don’t trust other people to do it correctly.”

“Oh, my bad,” Shoto snickered, “is that what it’s called?”

   Shoto Todoroki received a slap on the chest and a dishrag pushed into his hands. You could still hear his laughter as you walked upstairs to your daughter’s room. Opening the door, you would’ve burst into laughter had you not been a parent.

   Datenshi Todoroki ran around in circles as she grew even more tangled in her long nightgown. It seemed to be stuck around her shoulders causing her arms to flail about, looking like a wild animal rather than a child. She wailed and turned, not knowing where the door was but knowing you were watching this go on.    Disguising your laughter as a cough, you knelt and began to help her out of her childish prison. What an interesting person she was.

   You wonder, how will life change as long as she’s around? You have no idea, you just hope you get more of these moments and less tantrums.

[wazzupmrstark]

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Six || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Sat down with my rose water candle lit, James Taylor record playing, and cherry coke and finished this sucker. Don’t let the beginning fool you 👀

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst god why am I such a dramatic ass bitch I thrive on it

What I listened to while writing: ...the twilight score (the only good thing that came out of that franchise was the music don’t @ me) I listened to A Nova Vida 3 times in a row. Also Tiny Meat Gang which if any of you read this part of my intro regularly I’m so sorry my music taste is so fucking weird if you couldn’t tell already and TMG takes the cake.

Word Count: 3k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

“Y/N?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Don’t sleep on the floor tonight.”

You froze, only 93% sure you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“You slept in like six sweaters last night, you’ve been taking ibuprofen all day, don’t make yourself miserable again by sleeping on the floor.”

You stood unmoving, still all the way across the room with your arms crossed. Tom was way more observant than you gave him credit for. “Tom, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” In fact, you were almost positive it was a terrible idea.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep on the floor tonight, but as your boss I’m demanding you sleep in the bed,” he insisted.

“You know you’re not actually my boss, right? And you have a concussion there’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor,” you sighed and gave in “but if it’ll get you to shut up we can share the bed.”

You turned off the light and made your way to your side and hesitantly climbed into bed next to him before settling under the covers. There went your heart again, pounding rapidly in your chest, and slowly what had been a comfortable silence slipped into an awkward one. Both of you were lying on your backs, completely stiff, totally uncomfortable. You’d been tired after watching Titanic, but now you were wide awake. It was just like last night and you were about to give up and move to the floor again when Tom spoke suddenly.

“We should order waffles in the morning.”

You wanted to laugh. You had been expecting him to say something serious about how this wasn’t working and one of you should move to the floor, but instead that came out of his mouth.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like the waffles here would be good,” he laughed.

He must have hit his head harder than you thought. “Okay, yeah sure we can get waffles,” you agreed. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You woke up to sunlight, not your alarm. Tom had opened the curtains and the light was streaming in through the window, directly into your eyes. Slowly, things came into focus. Tom was getting ready in front of the window, making him look like a silhouette against the pink sunrise. You watched him throw a t-shirt over his head and roll a pair of socks on. You didn’t know what time it was, but you could tell it was the early from the way your body protested when you rolled onto your other side, away from the sunlight.

Tom turned around when he heard you moving. “Oh, sorry did I wake you?”

You rolled back over. “No, it’s just the sunlight.”

“Sorry, I’ll close the curtains when I leave. We’re not called for a few more hours if you want to go back to sleep. I’m just headed to the gym. Do you want to come?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” You couldn’t tell if he was just being polite or extending a genuine invitation, but running around after Tom’s ass all day was workout enough. Of course, you kept that bit to yourself. “Are you even supposed to be working out with your head and stuff?” you asked, concerned that you’d get in trouble he didn’t rest for as long as possible.

“Doctors said I’d be fine today,” he shrugged and slung a backpack over his shoulder.

“Okay, well be careful, have fun and all that jazz,” you said and waved a hand in the air noncommittally, already half asleep..

“Get some more sleep, sounds like you need it.” Tom said as he put on his sneakers. “When I come back I’ll have the waffles.”

So he remembered that. Half of you wondered if he’d just said it in a sleepy haze, but you were happy he was following through. Tom closed the curtains as promised before he left and you fell back asleep almost immediately.

When you woke up again it was to the door slamming closed. After you realized it was only Tom you relaxed a little. His hands were full of takeout boxes and you could hear the music blasting from his earbuds.

“You hungry?” he asked and only got a groan in response. You held a pillow over your eyes as he opened the curtains to let the light in again. He shook his head, but smiled at you as he sat down in the armchair in front of your side of the bed. “Here,” he held one of the boxes out to you, “you don’t even have to get up.” You didn’t move. “Come on, y/n, your food is going to get cold.”

You sat up at last, squinting in the bright sunlight, finally getting a good look at Tom. He’d discarded his t-shirt in the time he’d been back, presumably while you had the pillow over your face, and was now sitting shirtless in front of you. His shoulders and arms glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and his damp curls stuck to his forehead stubbornly. 

“You okay?” he asked, holding your food out to you and cocking his head to one side. You realized you’d been staring.

You chalked it up to being tired and took the food from his hands. “Yeah sorry, still waking up.”

“I didn’t know what to get you, so I got you these.”

You opened the container and peered into it. Inside were two chocolate chip waffles with strawberries on top. “These are perfect, thanks.”

“You want syrup? I have a bunch of the little packets.”

You made a face. “No thanks.”

Tom stared at you in disbelief. “You don’t like syrup?”

“Hate it.”

“Figures,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes. “You hate everything good.”

He was joking, but you fought a frown, suspecting that what he said had some truth behind it. Sometimes it did feel like you were the villain in Tom’s eyes, always on his ass about schedules and social media. It was kind of your job to take the fun out of everything, and you supposed he had a right to be frustrated about it, but you still felt the sting of every snide comment he made to you. 

As you ate your waffles you gazed out the window, watching Venice wake up. The city was drenched in golden light that made everything look like an old movie. The canals were already bustling with produce salesmen and friendly neighbors greeting each other. Excited families of tourists walked up and down the sidewalks with open maps trying to get a head start on the day. In the building across from yours, women leaned out of windows to hang laundry or water plants. It looked like the intro scene to a classic romance. You snapped your attention away from the window when you felt Tom looking at you.

“Are you okay?”  he asked for the second time.

“Just people watching,” you shrugged, skirting around the question then changed the subject. “By the way, why are you lying to Harry and Haz about the rooms? I didn’t say anything to them about it, but figured we should be on the same page.”

“Oh, uh, the pair of them have big mouths and I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

You almost choked on a strawberry. Tom had lied because he thought someone would assume you and him were sleeping together.

“If anyone thought that, we’d just tell them the truth, obviously.” 

“Yeah, but once it got out people’d assume the worst and you’d get fired, or even blacklisted,” he explained.

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of consequences to sharing a room if people found out. Wasn’t having to share it with Tom at all punishment enough?

“What would happen to you?” you asked.

“Probably nothing,” Tom admitted with a shrug.

“What the fuck? That’s not fair.”

“I know, but you’re the handler. Maybe I’d get fined.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Tom leaned back, brushing the damp curls off of his forehead. “Anyway, that’s why we can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, good to know.” You looked down at your half finished waffles. “You want these? I’m full.”

“Sure, thanks.” Tom took the container from your hands and immediately ruined your leftovers with three packets of syrup.

You thought about yesterday, how easy it would’ve been to ruin your career with a few little words. “I wish you’d told me not to say anything sooner, I could’ve fucked that up for both of us.”

“Sorry,” Tom said sheepishly. “It’s just awkward to talk about, and honestly it’s fucking sexist, but it’s the industry.” Tom finished scarfing down your waffles then looked at his phone. “Fuck,” he said with his mouth still full, “we have to be ready in 20 minutes.”

That sentence didn’t mean much to you, but Tom launched himself out of the armchair and began rifling through his suitcase frantically. He let you brush your teeth and hair before hopping in the shower, something he probably should have done much earlier. Getting ready didn’t take much time for you now. You usually just threw on whatever and Harrison’s hoodie over top so you were pretty much dressed and ready by the time Tom was done showering.

“We’ve got five,” you informed him as he shook his hair dry with a towel.

“Yeah, I know,” he snapped.

You pursed your lips, but kept your composure. “Okay, well I’m going downstairs. We shouldn’t go together.”

Tom didn’t even acknowledge he heard you or say goodbye as you let yourself out. You’d never met a boy so obsessed with his appearance.

Most of the cast was downstairs already when you got there. Of course Tom was the only one missing. If he was late everyone was going to be even more pissed at him than they already were.

“Wow, y/n, we beat you for once,” Haz joked when he saw you.

“Haha,” you said, genuinely trying to laugh, but ended up sounding like a robot trying to imitate human sarcasm.

Harrison scrunched his eyebrows and pulled you to the side. “You okay? You’ve been acting really weird lately.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the time change?”

“It’s only an hour different from London, but yeah I’ll believe you if you want me to.” You smiled thankfully. Haz had always been there to talk if you needed, but never one to pry, even when he knew something was up. “How’s Tom?” Haz asked, changing the subject for you, not knowing it was going to make you even more flustered than you already were.

“What, why would I know how Tom is?” You were definitely sweating.

“You were supposed to be checking up on him to make sure he’s resting.”

“Oh yeah, he was fine when I last saw him.” You weren’t technically lying, but Haz only stared harder at you, his icy blue eyes trying to read you. It made you feel guilty about keeping things from him. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

You were saved from answering when Zendaya appeared behind Harrison and grabbed him by the shoulders and greeted you both.

“Y/n, please tell me you’re going to the thing tomorrow night,” she said. “Don’t leave me alone with the boys.”

“What’s wrong with ‘the boys’?” Haz protested, while Z nudged him playfully.

“What thing? I thought tomorrow was an off day.”

“Yeah we get the afternoon off, but there’s a party at some bar late tomorrow night. It’s one of those mandatory press outings that get publicity for the movie.”

You were familiar with these events because you were usually forced to go. The last one had been bowling back in London where you weren’t even allowed to participate, but had to monitor everyone’s alcohol intake and social media posts for the night. Harrison had hung out with you out of pity, but the rest of the cast kept their distance from you, the chaperone, and you couldn’t blame them.

You automatically dreaded the thought of having to go to this party. It sounded a thousand times worse than the bowling thing, but forced a smile for Zendaya anyway. “If it’s a publicity event, I’ll probably be there working.”

“Thank god,” she cheered before shifting her gaze over your shoulder. “Well good morning, sunshine.”

Tom had appeared finally and smiled brightly at her, an expression you’d only seen him give Zendaya. He looked at her like she hung the moon, which was fair, but for an actor he didn’t hide his infatuation very well. You fought the urge to scoff. Zendaya could do way better than Tom.

“How’s your head?” she asked him.

“Like nothing ever happened” he replied and knocked on the side of his skull as proof.

“Yep, he’s still a dumbass,” you added under your breath earning an elbow in your side from Tom.

“Fuck off, y/n.”

“You first.” 

To your surprise, Tom chuckled. “Good one. Are you sure I’m the one with the concussion?”

“Oh like yours was so original,” you shot back. 

Tom didn’t respond, but rolled his eyes through a smirk.

Now that Tom was downstairs everyone could get to set. Apparently the first scene of the day was taking place on some sort of tour boat, which made your job a lot easier because Tom was stuck on a boat. All you had to do was make sure he stayed on the boat.

Honestly at this point you had no idea what this movie was even about. There were about thirteen kids on that boat and you didn’t know what any of their characters were, aside from Peter Parker. You were so removed from the production process by now that you were almost always lost during filming.

Today you, Harry, and Harrison were stuck inside a random building with a bunch of crew because they had to clear so much space for a clean shot of the boat on the canal. The three of you practically lived behind the monitor these days. You all were making up your own dialogue for the scene being shot because the only people who could hear what was going on had headsets. Technically, as a production assistant you had a headset you could use, but this was more fun.You called Jacob, Harrison took Tom, and Harry claimed Tony.

Your Jacob voice was absolutely terrible. “I’m Jacob and I hate this fuckin hat, Ned would look better with a bowl cut,” you said in your lowest possible register.

Harry and Haz burst out laughing, getting some annoyed looks from the director of photography and digital intermediate technician.

“Something Jacob would say, but definitely not like that.” Haz teased. “His voice isn’t even that low, y/n!”

“Okay fine, you go.”

“Uh, I’m Tom and I can’t keep my mouth shut during interviews.”

“Or ever,” Harry added and you were surprised that sentence hadn’t come from your own mouth.

“How do you sound just like him?” You shook your head in wonder. If you had your eyes closed you could've sworn it was Tom standing in front of you and not his best friend.

Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m Tom and I don’t need a fucking handler, god I’m twenty-two for fucks sake.”

“Heard him say that before,” you groaned.

“Keep going, Haz,” Harry encouraged.

“Yeah, I have a handler, but y/n’s on her goddamn knees for Jon Watts and he fucking buys into it. It’s the only reason she hasn’t been fired!”

“Wait, what the fuck, Harrison?” you felt like you’d been slapped.

“Dude.” Harry shook his head.

“That’s not funny! Did Tom actually say that?”

Haz and Harry went stiff and silent in front of you. You had half a mind to go outside and yank Tom off of that fucking boat yourself, but you needed to know if it was true first.

“Great fucking job, Haz,” Harry muttered.

“So he said that about me?” You looked back and forth between the two of them, daring one of them to answer you. Hesitantly Harrison nodded. “When?”

“The first day in Venice, when he had those meetings.”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of when Tom had the opportunity to talk shit about you to the boys, but you were with him the whole day.

“How is that possible?” you demanded.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Harrison gave him a look like a warning. Harry continued anyway.

“In the groupchat.”

In that moment you felt everything slow down. The roaring of anger in your ears halted, your breathing slowed, time stood still.

“You guys have a groupchat to talk shit about me?” Your voice was much quieter than it had been less than a minute ago. The sentence sounded ridiculous coming out of your mouth. 

“It’s just our groupchat it isn’t meant for that or anything,” Haz mumbled, finally speaking up.

“Not specifically, but it happens anyway?” you assumed out loud. Neither of them denied it. “When did he send it?”

Haz shot Harry another look, which he ignored. “When he was in the meeting.”

“So he sent that when we were all sitting in the hallway together and neither of you bothered to say anything to me?”

“What were we supposed to say?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe: hey y/n, your boss is a huge fucking dick maybe quit while you’re ahead so you don’t look like an idiot when all of this blows up?”

“Y/n, you already knew he hated you, why is this a big deal now?”

But you couldn’t exactly explain that you were so upset because you and Tom didn’t really hate each other as much anymore and bonded over Titanic and waffles, and shared a bed, so you just started taking off Harrison’s sweatshirt. It felt like it was suffocating you now.

“Y/n what are you-”

“You can take this fucking back.” you shoved the sweatshirt back into Harrison’s arms and started towards the doors. 

“What? Y/n, can we talk about this-”

“You didn’t want me to report him, did you?” you cried. “That’s why you really didn’t tell me?” Again, you received no answer.

“Where are you going?” Haz asked, pleading, but you didn’t know. All you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

“Don’t follow me.”

You burst out of the building and onto the streets of Venice, your heart being pulled in a thousand different directions. Traffic moved around you effortlessly, like you weren’t even there. The hotel. The airport. Tom. What was going to be the least painful?

Son of a bitch this is late I’m v sorry!! But um wow what a ride, who let me have a computer?? It’s very possible this has typos, also sorry for that. 

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[goddammitstacey]

“you’re really invested in your tv show/book/etc and i don’t think you understand how much your absentminded petting is getting to me but like hell am i gonna ask you to stop“ !!

Poe has a thing about his hair. Touch it and he purrs. Pet it, he melts. Pull it… well. Yeah. That’s… yeah. His hypersensitivity has never been an issue before. People who get close enough to get their hands all up in his curls are generally doing so with pretty specific intentions, and even if they’re not, they learn fast how the tide’s rolling. 

But then people aren’t Finn.

Finn who learns scary fast, but is still playing catch up when it comes to a lot of social cues, particularly those centred around touch. Poe has a feeling Finn might have been a tactile person anyway—takes one to know one—but growing up in an insulated body glove obviously hasn’t done him any favours. 

These days Finn touches everything - fingers tracing the gouges in the mess hall tables as he eats, palms pressing against the bark of the megaflora that surrounds the new base like he can feel the sap pumping if he concentrates hard enough. Poe finds it both endearing as hell and teeth-grittingly motivating during those missions he gets the First Order square in his crosshairs.

Finn’s not as physical with people yet — or at least not ones he doesn’t know well. Poe’s obviously not in that category though, which brings him back to his current predicament. 

Finn’s leaning back against the head of the bunk, a data pad propped on his knees as he reads something distracting enough that he hasn’t noticed what’s going on with Poe yet. Poe’s not really sure if that’s a blessing or a curse, to be honest. Because on the one hand, Poe probably looks a special kind of stupid right now, processor parts forgotten on the floor in front of him as he all but drools into his own lap. On the other, if Finn keeps this up too much longer, Poe’s libido is going to start knocking insistently on the situation and that’s… not ideal.

Because Finn’s his friend. Finn’s his friend who’s still learning what it means to have friends and Poe doesn’t want to fuck that up for him. Which means Finn’s deft fingers twisting through his hair and scratching lightly against his scalp is fast becoming A Problem.

Finn hums lightly behind him—a noise Poe’s come to associate with him reading something particularly interesting—and Poe has to bite his lip against humming for his own more inappropriate reasons as Finn’s fingers card through the closer cropped curls at the nape of his neck.

Poe clears his throat. Then has to try again when he almost whimpers instead. “Ah, buddy?”

“Hmm?”

Finn’s petting doesn’t even pause. Poe’s done nothing to deserve this sort of temptation.

“I’m ah… getting a little distracted down here.”

Understatement.

Finn’s touch halts but he doesn’t pull his hand back and Poe finds himself swallowing hard against the instinct to push back into Finn’s palm.

Finally Finn says, “In a good way or a bad way?”

And that’s… huh. Poe cranes his neck back to look up at Finn’s face and finds a soft smile waiting for him, Finn’s eyes amused and… knowing.

“Fuck,” Poe says. “Who told?”

Finn huffs a laugh, thumbing lightly behind Poe’s ear. “Jess.”

Of course it was Pava. Poe would be annoyed but the way Finn’s looking at him as he smooths his fingers back through his hair, he has a feeling he’s gonna end up buying her a cake.

Poe lets his eyes flutter shut as he feels Finn’s movements turn deliberate, fisting a grip at the back of his head and… yeah. Shit. Poe’s breath catches which is probably the only thing that saves him from flat out moaning.

“You should come up here,” Finn says, voice drawn tight and Poe would be relieved he’s not the only one affected here but he’s too busy giving himself over to Finn’s very nice, very competent hands.

“I should definitely come up there,” Poe says. He’s about to get right on that when Finn’s grip shifts and twists and Poe’s hips go rogue, bucking instinctively up and fuck, he’s hard, when did he get hard?

“Oh wow,” Finn says. “Jess wasn’t kidding.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Poe says, strangled.

Finn laughs like he’s just so delighted and Poe would bask in the warmth of it but Finn’s also taken it upon himself to manhandle Poe up onto the standard-issue mattress, a move that makes an entirely different sort of heat suffuse Poe’s limbs.

Force, did Pava just write out an itemised list or something?

Poe finds himself flat on his back, Finn braced over him, grinning like Poe’s a new dessert he has yet to try. It puts Finn’s very nice shoulders in optimal clutching range and Poe isn’t going to shirk that opportunity, no sir.

“Hi,” Finn says softly and Poe realises he’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Fuck he hasn’t felt this stupid for someone since…ever.

“Hi back.”

Finn dips down, mouth dizzyingly close and Poe very nearly whimpers when he stops just short of his lips, because fuck.

“I ah… you should probably know I have no idea what I’m doing,” Finn says, and ah, that answers that question then.

Poe slides his hands up to scritch through the hair where it’s growing out at the nape of Finn’s neck, easing the nervous tension the best way he knows how.

“Well,” Poe says, struggling to gather his thoughts in the face of Finn humming into his touch like a spoiled loth-cat, shit. “We can slow our roll a bit. Pull back and talk a few things through…”

“Or?” Finn says, dipping toward Poe’s mouth again like a faulty grav drive. The move brushes their noses together, something that probably shouldn’t make Poe’s toes curl but here they are.

“Or,” Poe swallows harshly against the instinct to just tip his chin up, turn things wet and hot and fast, but no - this is Finn’s show. This needs to be Finn’s show. “We can wing it. Do what feels right, speak up when something doesn’t…” 

Finn’s eyes snap back up to his at that and Poe very nearly chokes on the want behind the look. “You’ll show me how?”

Fuck. “Yeah,” Poe says, and he’s gonna need some sort of award for how steady his voice is here because seriously. “Yeah, I’ll show you how.”

The smile that slips across Finn’s features is like a sunrise, slow and syrup sharp. Poe wants to taste it. “We’re gonna do this.”

It’s not a question, but Poe answers it by meeting Finn’s mouth on a groan anyhow.