#Dressing Room Design Brooklyn

[cabinetmakerqueens]

Dressing Room Designer Manhattan

When it comes to the overall design of the space, the options are endless. A dressing room can be designed to match the style of the rest of your home, or it can be a space to express your personal style. Whether you are looking to use neutral colors and natural materials, such as wood and stone, to create a classic and timeless look, or brighter colors, bold patterns, and modern finishes, for a more contemporary feel – the Empire Closets team has got you covered!

Our professional designers can help you to design and build the space to meet your specific needs and preferences. The installation process can take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, depending on the complexity of the design and the materials used. For more information on dressing room design and other services, be sure to contact Empire Closets today.

[thisistennis]

Closet Dressing Area Large transitional women's dark wood floor dressing room photo with raised-panel cabinets and beige cabinets

[insomniumstella]

baby, she's all yours

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: free use (consent to be "used" anytime & anywhere), explicit language, fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), a sprinkle of degradation, a sprinkle of breeding kink, dom!bucky, public sex, light spanking, daddy kink (i should be stopped). this one is bad, so it goes without saying, but MDI

word count: 1,240

author's note: this is a lil' story in celebration of kinktober, which time won't permit me to participate in, but my thoughts always wanted to. ➼ sharp, but oh so gentle

James was hesitant to explore the concept you described as free use at first, and maybe a fraction scared. The two of you had been dating for close to three years, and though things were great, the idea of you introducing free use into the bedroom days after knife play troubled him. His heart has always been heavy with the notion of being too difficult to love and too bothersome to deal with, but you made him feel enough; more than. Special in public when you would proudly hold his hand, and special in the comfort of plush sheets when you would let him cherish you — use and mould you into a drooling mess, obeying every demand. Was proposing a fresh kink a silent plead to advise him you have gotten bored? 

As it turned out, it was. Kind of. The itch beneath your skin urging you to explore foreign waters wasn’t boredom but rather lust. Fiery hot and addicting type of lust that ignited every nerve ending in your body around him. Still does. Introducing Bucky to free use was the best—and the most deliciously infuriating—thing to soothe your constant yearning for his touch. 

It caught you off guard, the first time he complied with the request. Steve had recently purchased an apartment in Brooklyn and organised a small housewarming celebration. You slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen once your glass turned empty, oblivious to the very needy pair of eyes studying you. The music muffled your soft moans then, as James fingered you against the blonde’s new refrigerator, suffocating the whines his thick fingers caused with passionate kisses. 

The second time it happened, it was winter. Powdery layers of snow covered the entirety of New York City, and, as the sun laid to rest for the evening, the streets seemed magical. James and you were rushing to Natasha’s birthday dinner, stopping by Bergdorf Goodman for a last-minute gift. Time around holidays is always strenuous, but the missions almost doubled last year, rustles of a deadly biochemical weapon dampening the joy of Christmas and stealing your attention away from getting Natasha a gift early. Bucky tackled the three bottom floors whilst you handled the other three, scouring the variety of fine jewelry and designer clothing. As fate would have it, a gorgeous sequinned dress piqued your interest, the colour of it overly harsh for the redhead’s complexion but perfectly complimenting to yours. James practically pleaded for you to model it, assuring nobody would notice you being late a minute or two. Desire waltzed in his eyes when you agreed at last, twirling around to present the garment and flaunt how well it flattered your curves. He shoved the two of you into the private dressing room once the sales associate disappeared to bring out a pair of matching heels, closing the curtains and hiking the dress up to your waist. “Be good for me,” he spoke, undoing his zipper and slipping the tip of his cock into your dripping heat, “you wouldn’t want employees to hear us, would you, doll?” You couldn’t think of the gift you ended up buying Natasha, but you can still remember sobbing into Bucky’s hand as his hips feverishly snapped into yours.  

Sometimes, that particular memory makes you wonder if introducing James to free use was a mistake — you’d be lying if you said it was because the thrill of being played with at times you least expect is exhilarating. The agreement caused many risky scenarios, though. There was that instance of Bucky between your legs, lapping at your core during a video call with your sister. The wooden desk shielded him from view as he relished you, but the grimaces on your features were a smidge more difficult to camouflage. “You taste incredible, baby,” Bucky mumbled, flesh and metal hands gripping the softness of your exposed thighs, before eagerly licking your clit. “Couldn’t ever get enough of this pussy.” You inadvertently moaned thrice during the call, disguising the sinful sounds by feigning coughs and attributing your strange demeanour to a common cold. “Tell her the truth,” James teased then, slipping a metal digit inside your needy hole, and you sneakily slapped his shoulder. The unsuspecting woman on screen continued to babble about her upcoming visit as you hit the mute button on your computer because the man below you had zero intentions of easing up. “Can feel you squeezin’,” he groaned, slipping a couple more of his metal digits inside. “Please end the call, peach, so I could fuck you atop this desk already.” 

There was also the time he got annoyed on a road trip, freeing his cock and guiding your head downward to silence your complaints about his driving on unpaved roads. “Be a good girl and put that mouth to better use,” he grunted as you licked drops of pre-cum off his skin. “Na uh, doll,” with his left arm on the steering wheel, James forced the entirety of his length into your mouth, “we ain’t got time for any foreplay shit right now.” 

Furthermore, introducing him to free use is the reason for your current predicament — being bent over the sink at a local bar with Bucky balls deep inside you. 

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” James praises, catching your gaze in the grimy mirror before spanking your velvety hips. “My girl’s such a slut for me, letting me play with her in a random pub’s bathroom.” It’s more of an observation than dirty talk, and you bite back a moan, nodding. “Bet you’re always thinking about daddy’s big cock, wishing you could be bursting full of me forever, aren’t you?” A harsh spank lands on your scorching skin when you don’t immediately answer. “I asked you a question, peach.”

“Yes,” you sob, digging your manicured nails into the base of your palm. “Love it—,” another wail slips past your swollen lips, “love it when you use me, daddy.” 

The pace of his hips slamming into yours remains brutal as he studies your expression in the mirror. “Look at you,” he clutches your chin, the slight pain of it forcing you to peel your eyes open, “my baby’s so fucked out, she’s having trouble speaking.” The steady pulse of your approaching orgasm heightens as Bucky admires the whimpering mess that is you, leaning lower until the slight stubble on his jaw tickles your ear. “Should I let you finish, or should I leave you all desperate and stuffed full of my cum until happy hour’s over?” 

“Please,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

“That’s too—,” James chuckles through a groan as his own orgasm bursts in syrupy waves, “—bad.” The rhythm of his movements falters and then stops, and if tears weren’t streaming down your face already, you would’ve cried at the loss of contact, feeling terribly empty without Bucky to keep you warm. Though you don’t say a word to him, he can sense your frustration, the weight of your emotions lingering in the atmosphere around you. Slithering his metal hands between your legs, he pushes the cum that leaked out back inside you, thrusting a couple times to soothe your disappointment before withdrawing his touch and shoving your discarded panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t let it drip out if you want a reward when we get home.” A lazy grin stretches across his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.” 

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river. 

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back. 

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.” 

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” 

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor. 

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?” 

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another. 

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder. 

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath. 

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.” 

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.” 

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.” 

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards. 

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams. 

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped. 

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened. 

“No… oh no.” 

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour. 

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone. 

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis. 

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-” 

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!” 

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.” 

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side. 

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.” 

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.” 

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask. 

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension. 

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web. 

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?” 

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience. 

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?” 

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly. 

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return. 

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.” 

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client. 

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down. 

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss. 

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly. 

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls. 

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh. 

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you? 

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.” 

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space. 

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.” 

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.” 

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great. 

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!” 

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground. 

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background. 

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization. 

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps. 

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes. 

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company. 

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him. 

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by. 

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity. 

And in this one… 

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe. 

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.” 

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?” 

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.” 

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel. 

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.” 

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up. 

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head. 

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?” 

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities. 

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.” 

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.” 

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.” 

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face. 

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.” 

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.” 

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.” 

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.” 

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches. 

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.” 

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.” 

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point. 

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?” 

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.” 

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face. 

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.” 

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.” 

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.” 

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.” 

“That would be preferable.” 

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.” 

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address. 

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.” 

And it would be good for you to see her again. 

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him. 

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

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[spectersgirl]

Hey everyone! This wasn't anything anyone asked for yet again, and idk what made me decide to write this but I just wanted to put a hugeeeee disclaimer and TW for SA. If you are sensitive to this topic, it's the entire basis for this fic (a situation is described but not in detail) so I suggest you skip this one and take care of yourself.

*incredibly personal anecdote* Admittedly, this was incredibly cathartic to write, as I directly based this on something I experienced and still work through every single day, with a lot of details changed. If you are also a victim of SA, I'm sorry. It was not your fault, and you couldn't have known they would do what they did to you, no matter the relationship you shared prior. All of that being said, if you do choose to read this, I hope you get something out of it.

Darkness

Harvey Specter x Reader

The way you felt when you walked into the lobby of Pearson Specter Litt only to be greeted by sight of the man directly responsible for the greatest source of trauma in your life, Dylan, felt nearly as horrific as when it all happened. You froze in place, unable to move or speak as you watched him shake hands with someone you didn’t recognize. It felt like the earth was moving in slow motion as you stood there, unable to move or breathe or think. You watched him walk with the other man he was talking to, totally oblivious to your presence a mere 15 feet away. You stared blankly ahead, your heart rate rising and jumped when a hand touched your shoulder gently.

"Hey woah, Y/N are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost?"

You looked up at the source of the voice and the hand on your shoulder. It was Mike Ross, who was undoubtedly there to retrieve you so you could sign some final paperwork in regards to the lawsuit your company had just won thanks to Mike's hard work. You owned a small clothing company based in Brooklyn and one of your designs had been completely ripped off by a larger brand, but the suit was far from on your mind at that moment.

"I- I need a minute" You said hurriedly, rushing to the nearest bathroom.

You stood in the mirror, clammy hands and white knuckles shakily gripping the edge of the counter as you attempted to collect yourself. Your breathing was ragged and the room was spinning. You closed your eyes, doing everything you could to make the panic stop. You felt a little angry at yourself for the way your body reacted to seeing him, but you’d deal with that later. Finally, your breathing started to return to normal, heart rate slowing to a more reasonable speed.

You knew you'd have to explain what had happened to at least Mike, and probably anyone else that saw you run. You had never kept secrets from each other, but this was something you were too ashamed of to tell even Mike. You knew logically that you had nothing to be ashamed of, you knew it wasn't your fault that this happened to you, but that little voice of doubt in the back of your head screamed that you should've turned around and left.

Mike and you had been friends since childhood, keeping in touch consistently even through the busyness of life. He was one of your closest friends. You'd been to the PSL offices many times, becoming close with all of Mike's colleagues, and even custom-designing some dresses for Donna and suits for Harvey, the two people you'd grown the closest to in the time Mike had worked at PSL. Donna had become one of your best friends in the city since moving to Manhattan only a couple of years back, and you and Harvey had recently crossed the threshold of more-than-friends and were now in the stage where you pretty much spent every night together at either your apartment or his condo. Mike knew about your budding relationship with Harvey and although he pouted for a while, he eventually got over it, stating that as long as nobody got hurt, he was fine with it.

The bathroom door opening jolted you from your thoughts, and you looked up with petrified eyes at Donna. Her face had concern written all over it as she walked cautiously to you, saying nothing as she held her arms out. You accepted the gesture graciously and hugged her as if your life depended on it. She had no idea what you had been through either, nobody but you and the man from earlier did, but she knew that something was terribly wrong.

"What happened, Y/N?" She asked as she sat down with you on the small ottoman that sat in the corner of the room. "Mike told me you freaked out and ran in here, he wanted to help but..." She trailed off, gesturing at the women's restroom.

You sighed, looking down at the floor and attempting to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach.

"I've never told anyone this..." You started quietly, looking up at Donna finally. She nodded encouragingly, placing a hand on your back.

"When I was 19 and in college, I met this guy. We hit it off and became friends, we had a couple of classes together and studied together and eventually, I grew to sort of like him. One night, he and his roommate had a party that I went to, and I started drinking like everyone else. He just kept filling my cup for me and before I knew it, I was hammered. I didn't know it then but he was pretty much sober. He told me he wanted to talk somewhere quietly and he took me to his bedroom, and I was so drunk that I didn't realize what was happening before he took my top off and... he had me doing things I never would've done if I was sober. Not yet with him, at least. It ruined me for a really long time. I still think about it, wondering if I should’ve done things differently. I had liked him so much before, that I didn't understand that everything that happened was assault. He got me wasted so he could take advantage of me. He never talked to me again and avoided me in classes the rest of our time at that school, and I haven't seen him in years until just now when I saw him in the lobby. I had a panic attack. I used to get them a lot after it happened but they don’t really happen anymore. I just really hope they don’t start coming up again, that darkness is something I never want to feel again.”

By the end of your story, there were tears pouring down your cheeks. Donna handed you a tissue which you took gratefully. When you finally looked back up from your lap, there were tears in Donna's eyes. She wasn’t able to find the words for how horrible she felt for you, and how angry she was at this guy for doing something like that.

“Y/N I… I am so sorry you went through that. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better right now?”

You thought for a moment, feeling a weight come off your shoulders as you realized how good it felt to unload the burden of this memory for the first time. You shook your head.

“No, but we can leave the bathroom. I think I’m feeling a little better” You responded, hearing the tiredness in your voice.

Donna smiled sadly, standing and holding a hand out to help you up.

She walked with you back to her desk, and your head stayed on a swivel, watching for any sign of him.

Donna clicked around on her computer screen once you reached her desk, and looked back up at you after a moment.

“Harvey won’t be back from his meeting for another hour or so and I know you’re exhausted from all of that so if you want, you can take a little power nap on his couch, I'm sure he won't mind. You don’t have to but, I just want you feeling better.”

You could’ve cried at how much she truly cared. You nodded weakly.

“That would be really nice, thank you Donna.”

“Of course honey, go right in.”

It took you all of about 20 seconds to fall into a deep sleep once you laid down.

Harvey returned to the office, stopping at Donna's desk when he noticed you passed out on his couch.

"Uh, what's up with Y/N?" He asked the redhead, who stood and walked to an empty conference room, waving him in with her. She closed the door and spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to hear.

"Something happened and I'm sure she would want to tell this story herself, but it's something you should know." Donna started, bracing herself to tell the abridged version of what you'd told her only an hour ago.

By the time she finished telling Harvey what she knew, the anger was emanating off of his being. His fists were clenched and his jaw sat in a tight line.

"Who's the guy and who was he meeting with? I'm gonna go pay him a visit."

"Harvey you can't just go talk to him, he doesn't even know she's here-"

"Talk to him?! Please, I'm gonna fucking lay him out!"

"Please, just let her talk to you and if that's what she wants, then do that. I know you care about her and I know you want to protect her, but do that how she wants you to. Don't make this worse for her."

Harvey sighed, frustrated that he couldn't go throw the dude through the window right then and there, but he begrudgingly understood what Donna was saying. As much as he wanted to put this guy in the dirt, this wasn't his fight to fight unless you asked him to, and he would do anything you asked.

He quietly entered his office, busying himself with paperwork and anything else that he could find to be both productive and quiet as he periodically looked up, watching you peacefully sleep.

You woke eventually, you had no idea how long he let you sleep but you were certain it was longer than the hour you were expecting.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." Harvey greeted with a smile, but you could see the fear in his eyes. He could fool others with his poker face, but not you.

You said nothing but held your arms out, beckoning him to you. You knew he had to have asked Donna what happened, based on the look on his face. He stood and walked to the couch to join you. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you in a way that felt like your pieces were fusing back together. His warm hands rubbed up and down your back, softly kissing the top of your head before pulling back and speaking.

"Y/N, Donna told me what happened, I know you probably would've wanted to tell me yourself but she thought I needed to know. I am so angry that something like that ever could've happened to you, especially when you were so young. I want you to know that if there's anything you want me to do to this guy, I'm gonna find a way to do it."

Tears fell from your eyes yet again, and Harvey wiped them away gently with his thumbs.

"Thank you. You don't have to do anything, just being here with me is more than I could've asked. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it, about him, it just felt... embarrassing. I didn't want to burden you. I don't want you to have to constantly look over your shoulder just because of me."

Harvey took a deep breath before he took your hands in his, looking into your eyes with passion pooling in his own before he spoke again.

"Y/N, you could never be a burden to me, okay? I would go to the ends of the earth and back to make sure you’re safe. The idea that I couldn't protect you from everything you've gone through because of that asshole makes me weak in the knees, it makes me feel sick. From here on out, if someone’s making you uncomfortable, if you feel unsafe, anything... You can always call me. You can come to me. I will never let you feel that way again, that’s a promise.”

Tears flowed from your eyes both from the mental toll the last few hours had taken on you and at Harvey's words. He's never spoken so passionately, so candidly with you before.

You felt your hands trembling even as he held them tightly, despite him trying his best to soothe you. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to collect yourself.

"For not being the guy who comforts people, you sure are good at it." you said with a slight grin. "Thank you. For everything."

Harvey smiled, glad that you were feeling okay enough in that moment to make a joke. He opened his mouth to say something, but got interrupted by a tapping on the glass door of his office.

"Y/N, hey! I came to find you earlier but you were asleep. Are you okay? What happened? Donna wouldn't tell me anything, she just said you should tell me?" Mike asked frantically, clearly still worried about you.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Donna was right, this is something I should tell you myself. I should've told you a long time ago." You started, waving him inside so you could tell him everything.

Mike and Harvey listened intently, and you saw both of them physically stiffen and get angrier the more you told them, despite Harvey having already heard from Donna. Harvey had poured himself a drink, and by the looks of it, a very strong one. He paced the floor as he listened, presumably to expel some of his energy on something other than finding the guy and putting his fist through his face.

"God, I wish you would've told me back then, I would've beat the shit out of him. But I understand why you didn't. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I hate that he did that to you, but I'm so proud of you for being so strong all this time. I just wish you didn't do it alone."

"Thanks Mike. I was just felt so much shame, that I didn't tell anyone. I couldn't."

"I know. It's okay, I'm glad you told me. I'm sure Harvey already offered but if there's anything I can do..."

You nodded, telling him you'd let him know.

"Ok, I'm gonna head out but call if you need anything?"

"I will, thank you Mike. You're a good friend."

He smiled before giving you a hug and leaving, giving a firm nod to Harvey on his way out, the two men's silent way of communicating their mutual agreement to watch out for you.

Harvey decided to take the rest of the afternoon off to be with you, despite your insistence that he had a shit ton of work to do and that you were feeling better.

"Honey, you are the most important thing to me right now. This'll all still be here in the morning.”

You smiled softly at the nickname.

“Right now, if you want to that is, I'm going to take you back to my place and we can sit by the fireplace with a glass of wine and talk for a while, and I'll run you a hot bath and you can just relax while I cook us dinner."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him softly.

“That sounds perfect.”

[ginnsbaker]

brooklyn

Summary: One night in Brooklyn, with all the twists and turns in your histories, you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena end up at the same table.

Word count: 3.2K+ | A/N: This is for all of my ILGOSS readers. Requested by anon:

Would you ever be up to writing in the ilgoss universe the first time after everything that happened that Yelena Kate Wanda and reader interact? Like after reader and Wanda getting officially back together

Also, if you can't tell, I've recently been obsessing about degustation menus.

Masterlist

-

A gilded Brooklyn evening envelops you. It further transforms elegantly as the sun dips below the horizon. Around you, the silhouettes of trees stretch and bend, their leaves rustling gently in the evening breeze. It's in one of these timeless structures that Wanda has woven her dreams, with her restaurant, Hasta Feliz. 

After spending a year in the heart of Catalonia, Wanda meticulously planned to work towards that dream, especially given the possibility that realizing her other dream—you—might never be possible again. You've always admired Wanda’s tenacity, the way she harnessed her experiences—both good and bad—into passion. It was a trait you fell in love with and, ultimately, the reason you found your way back to her, despite being more than a year late in doing so.

The restaurant's door, ornate with wrought iron designs, pushes open with a gentle nudge. The hostess greets you warmly, addressing you by your name. She leads you to the kitchen table, which offers a prime view of the open kitchen where all the magic happens. At the center of the action is your wife, dressed in full chef's gear, sampling dishes being prepared by her kitchen staff. 

You rest your chin on the heel of your hand, a subtle smile playing on your lips, contentedly watching her perform like an artist. Wanda began as an art student at NYU, and while her current career might deviate somewhat from the degree she earned, you believe it's only natural for Wanda to have found another avenue to express her creativity.

Wanda moves gracefully around her stage, a look of unyielding concentration etched on her face. Her commanding presence is undeniably alluring, both authoritative and captivating in a manner that, even after all these years, never fails to draw you in. Dark, intent eyes scan over her dominion, ensuring each plate is a masterpiece before it's allowed to exit her kitchen.

Her commanding presence fills the room, drawing all eyes to her. To you, this side of her is intensely attractive, and as you sit there, you find yourself wondering if others perceive her the same way. Glancing down at the wedding band you wear on your finger, a possessive instinct tugs at you. The idea of someone else being equally entranced by your wife makes you slightly uneasy. But an even stronger feeling is the perpetual awe that she is yours.

She occasionally glances up, catching staff members' eyes, and with just a look or a small nod, redirects their actions. It's mesmerizing how she manages to communicate so much without words, and you marvel at her ability to lead so effortlessly.

You're jerked from your reverie when she looks in your direction. Her eyes light up as she spots you, and for a moment, the chaos and noise fades into the background. It's just the two of you in that instance. She sends you a discreet wink before returning to her duties, bringing a light blush to your cheeks. James, the restaurant’s sommelier, promptly pours you a glass of wine and serves you a small charcuterie board to accompany it. You thank him with a smile and quickly indulge in a 1998 Rioja, the aged liquid burning down your throat before spreading a comforting warmth through your chest. 

It’s a full house tonight, save for the table near the window you've reserved for your friend, Kate Bishop. She has transitioned from being a journalist to a food and lifestyle contributor for many renowned magazines. Wanda's restaurant has only been open for two months, but with Kate set to cover their 10-course tasting, you're hopeful all of New York will be talking about it soon.

“You’re early.”

Temporarily handing over the kitchen's control to her sous chef, Wanda takes a seat beside you and sneaks a bit of brie from your board. You swivel your chair to face her, already wearing an alcohol-induced cheeky grin. “I've missed you all day.”

Wanda beams and leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek. But before she can pull away, you gently cup the back of her neck, stealing a more proper kiss from her lips. Wanda blushes, glancing around to see if any of the staff witnessed the exchange, and you can't help but suppress a chuckle at her reaction. In retaliation, Wanda seizes your glass of wine, taking a lengthy swig that nearly empties its contents, then wipes traces of it from the edge of her mouth. A smirk plays on your wife’s lips, and you exert every ounce of restraint to keep from wiping that smirk away yourself.

“Nervous?” you ask, your hand rising to massage the knots on Wanda’s shoulders. With your other hand, you signal James for a refill.

“A little,” Wanda confesses. She was over the moon when she learned of Kate's intention to review her restaurant. Only once before has a food critic penned thoughts on her new restaurant—it was a piece in a lesser-known tabloid that awarded her a 3.5 out of 5 stars. Despite reassurances that it's a respectable score for a newcomer, Wanda couldn't help but fixate on it. Now, she's on a quest to earn that perfect rating.

“Relax, you’re going to do great,” you say. “I think it helps that Kate loves Spanish cuisine.”

“That’s the thing, there’s more pressure serving someone who’s quite taken and familiar with the food.”

Suddenly, a flurry of anxious voices emanate from the open kitchen. While there's no dramatic crash, you notice two of Wanda’s chefs exchanging nervous glances, hands slightly trembling, as they try to discreetly deal with a small mishap away from the customers' prying eyes.

Wanda's sharp eyes catch the nervous interaction. Without hesitation, she's on her feet and swiftly approaching the two chefs. She glances your way briefly, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “Sorry,” she mouths to you as she delves into the matter.

You pull out your phone to distract yourself for a while, and notice a message from Kate timestamped five minutes ago. She says she's close and that she's bringing a plus one. Your brows knit together; the reservation was for two, intended for you and her. Adjusting your plans on the fly, you realize you might have to have your dinner elsewhere tonight. It's fortunate that your wife operates a restaurant; you're almost certain there are set-aside orders in the back you can indulge in.

You’re still typing up a reply to Kate when the delicate chime of the entrance bell lifts your eyes. Kate steps in, wearing a suit for the occasion. Beside her stands Yelena, looking slightly out of place in her edgier, more casual attire. As soon as they catch sight of you, you offer a small wave in greeting.

“Hey,” Kate starts, taking in the scene before her, especially the ongoing, discreet chaos in the kitchen. “Seems like a busy night.”

“It sure is. And Yelena, what a surprise.”

Yelena chuckles, “Got wind of dinner at a posh place. Thought I'd tag along.”

You turn to Kate with a restrained smile. “You did mention to her that this is, well, Wanda's place, right?”

It’s Yelena, however, who answers, “She did. I'm truly eager for dinner tonight.”

“Good. That’s... good,” you reply, feeling slightly off-kilter.

Kate shoots you a teasing grin. “Oh, don’t wear your nerves on your sleeve, Y/N,” she chides gently. “After all, you’re not the one preparing our meal, right?”

A laugh escapes you, and you dismissively shake your head at her playful jab. “Your table’s right over there. I’ll join you in just a moment.”

You hurry back to the kitchen. Wanda is right in the thick of it, her brow furrowed in concentration as she meticulously adjusts a plate, ensuring that each element is perfectly placed.

You edge gently into her line of sight, attempting to get her attention. “Wanda.”

She remains unmoved, as if the world has fallen away from her.

You inhale, hesitating for a brief moment before uttering the one thing that you know will seize her attention. “Yelena. She’s here.”

Her head snaps up, “What?!” Wanda exclaims, her hands momentarily stilling.

You explain quickly, “Kate brought Yelena along tonight. She's seated with her, waiting for dinner.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide—a little too wide—that under any different occasion you’d find funny and would tease her endlessly for it. But the present moment treads a delicate line between a comical irony and a grave reunion of sorts; the memory still lingers that you cheated on Yelena with Wanda, and initially, you were with Yelena because the latter had cheated on you. 

While you trust Yelena not to let personal bias sway her judgment, it's clear why your wife is teetering on the edge of panic.

“S-Should I cancel?” Wanda asks.

“No, no, no,” you say quickly. “Baby, you can do this.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize over the years. “Okay, let’s think this through. Yelena is professional. She won't let past grievances affect her review. And the food... it’s top-notch. They’ll love it,” she tries to reassure herself more than you.

“They will,” you assure her, nodding. “What can I do to help?”

“Could you keep them entertained and assist me in presenting the dishes?”

“Absolutely.”

Wanda looks a bit on edge, but she gives you a grateful smile and plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.”

-

The 10-course meal Wanda whipped up kicks off with an appetizer that makes your mouth water. You walk with her as she serves it to Yelena and Kate. She's ditched her chef's hat tonight, and you can see those little wild hairs on her forehead with her hair all tied up into a strict bun.

The gazpacho sits elegantly on the table, vibrant and almost begging for a photo. Wanda, poised and with a touch of flair, presents it: “This is not just any gazpacho. It's the essence of summer, distilled into a plate. Tomatoes basking in sunshine, cucumber with a hint of earth, and a watermelon gel that adds an unexpected twist.”

She suggests the, “For those wanting a fuller experience, there's the Albariño from Rías Baixas. It's crisp, coastal, and James will bring it to you.”

“It's beautiful,” Kate comments, digging in, while Yelena gives Wanda a faint smile. Wanda clears her throat, feeling the intensity of your ex-girlfriend's gaze, while you watch her, seeing up close for the first time how she introduces her dishes.

Wanda gives your waist a sly pinch, pulling you out of your daze.

“Ow!”

With a poised smile, Wanda says, “Enjoy your meal,” then heads to the kitchen. You're about to trail after her when Yelena gets your attention.

“Y/N,” Yelena says. “Sit with us.”

After a moment's hesitation, you find a chair, drawing it up to the table to sit between the two. James arrives with two glasses of wine, and you request a third glass for yourself.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” you venture, trying to ease into casual conversation.

“Just for three weeks,” Yelena responds, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m on assignment.”

“I hope the long-distance thing is treating you both well,” you say.

Kate sighs dramatically, “It’s a challenge, but we make do. Frequent flyer miles, late-night calls, the usual.”

Yelena adds, “And surprises. Like tonight.”

You fidget slightly, hoping to navigate the conversation away from the potential landmines of the past. But Yelena catches your unease. “You seem... tense.”

“Can you blame me?” You try to deflect, glaring at Kate for the last-minute heads up.

Yelena chuckles, that hearty laugh you remember so well. “Relax, Y/N. I don’t pull any strings with Kate's reviews. But between you and me,” she leans in slightly, “that appetizer? It's a 5 out of 5 in my book.”

Your smile relaxes. Maybe the evening won't be so treacherous after all.

Just in time, Wanda returns with the second appetizer for the night.

-

It takes about two and a half hours for the pair to work their way through the entire tasting menu. By the end, Kate has undone the button on her trousers, while Yelena, full and drowsy from the meal, struggles to keep her eyes open.

“Where's Wanda?” Kate asks, returning the bill with her credit card to the waiter.

“I'll go find her,” you say, rising from your seat.

You head toward the open kitchen but don't find your wife. After asking a few staff members, they direct you to the staff room. There, you find Wanda sitting on a bench, about to open the tupperware of food you prepared for her earlier.

“Hey,” you greet as you approach. She's shed her uniform and is now dressed in the same clothes she wore when she left the apartment this morning. Her tired eyes brighten up slightly at the sight of you. She grins at you, masking the exhaustion you’ve grown so attuned to recognizing.

“You did amazing out there,” you start, thumbing the faint shadows beneath her eyes. “Kate looked genuinely impressed. I've never seen her react that way before.”

Wanda tilts her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, baby. But, I noticed them looking around after dinner, were they looking for me?”

You nod, “They did want to talk to you, yes.”

Her face pales slightly. “Is that a good idea? With Yelena… after everything?”

“Yelena and I have talked about…well, us—and that includes you—several times in the past. She doesn't hold any grudges against you, I promise.”

Wanda sighs, toying with the edges of the tupperware. “I just don't want to make things awkward for you or for her.”

You draw her closer, brushing a kiss on her temple. “It’s in the past, Wands. We’ve moved on, and so has she.”

She smiles, leaning into your embrace. “Okay.”

As you both stand up to make your way back to Kate and Yelena's table, you suddenly notice the tupperware still clutched in Wanda’s hand. You pause, an incredulous look on your face. “Wait, you're actually going to eat that?”

She looks down at the container and then back at you with feigned innocence. “What? I'm hungry.”

“That?” you say, pointing to the tupperware. “With all the culinary masterpieces you've been churning out tonight, you're going to eat... whatever that is I threw together this morning?”

Wanda narrows her eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “Don't you dare insult my favorite meal, especially when it’s made by my favorite person.”

You shake your head, your cheeks warming up. Even after all these years, it's amazing how Wanda can still make you blush like a smitten teenager. “You're nuts for preferring anything I whip up in the kitchen. It's like a five-year-old's attempt compared to your gourmet dishes.”

She pokes your chest playfully, “Maybe you put a hex on me, you know, making me helplessly fall in love with you.”

It's so cheesy that you burst into laughter, draping an arm around her. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

Wanda giggles, resting her head against your shoulder briefly before you both continue toward the awaiting table.

-

“She did not do that!”

“She actually did!”

Yelena is grinning from ear to ear, her eyes darting between you and Wanda. You groan, sinking lower in your seat, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Wanda nods enthusiastically, her laughter causing a few stray curls to fall into her eyes. “She did! Y/N, trying to cook a romantic dinner for me and setting off the smoke alarm. Not only did our apartment's alarm go off, but it triggered the entire building's system.”

Yelena wipes a tear from her eye, trying to suppress her own laughter. “And having the entire building evacuate? Oh, that’s just golden.”

You hide your face in your hands, “It was our anniversary date! I wanted it to be special.”

“And it certainly was,” Wanda adds with a smirk.

Feigning offense, you reach across the table to try and snatch the tupperware filled with the meal you'd made for Wanda. “Alright, if my culinary skills are such a laughing matter, perhaps you shouldn't enjoy my latest creation.”

Wanda holds onto it defensively, pulling it close with a teasing grin. “Not happening. Despite that incident, this is still my favorite dish.”

“I wouldn't have thought Y/N to be the clumsy type. Next to her, I'm a complete klutz,” Yelena remarks.

“Can't argue with that,” Kate adds, receiving a playful swat from Yelena.

“I did have burnt toast for breakfast for a while,” you say with a smirk, alluding to the brief time you had with Yelena. It feels unreal, discussing the past so openly and without that familiar twinge in your chest.

Suddenly, Kate clinks her glass, drawing attention to herself with a burgeoning smile. “Well, speaking of choosing who gets to make our burnt toast in the morning,” she begins, beaming at Yelena, “I asked this one to marry me.”

“Congratulations!” Wanda exclaims, and you mirror her sentiment with a broad smile.

Yelena simply smiles, her usually fierce demeanor softened, eyes glistening with joy. She holds up her hand, showing off a beautiful, but temporary, band.

“I found out before she could surprise me with the custom ring,” Yelena mumbles, looking visibly smitten. “So she panicked and proposed with this.”

Kate shrugs, a little embarrassed. “It’s a placeholder until the real one is ready. Still, the sentiment remains.”

Wanda laughs, nudging you with her elbow. “Speaking of proposals,” she starts. “Remember last year when I popped the question to you?"

You groan for the nth time, hiding your face in your hands. “Not that story.”

“We were by this old swing, and I just... I felt it, you know? That it was the right time. So I got down on one knee, trying to make it special and romantic,” Wanda recalls, rolling her eyes.

“And?” Kate prompts.

“She said 'no'!”

“It wasn't a real no!” you protest, feeling the warmth rise in your cheeks. “I just... I had my own plans, okay? I wanted to be the one to propose.”

Yelena stifles a laugh behind her hand. “That sounds just like you. Always wanting the last word.”

Kate nudges her, “Oh, and you didn’t?”

Yelena feigns innocence, “I just said yes.”

“It all worked out in the end, for all of us, didn't it?” you muse, your eyes flickering between Wanda and the newly engaged couple across the table. Wanda’s fingers intertwine with yours, giving a gentle squeeze. But it's Yelena's slightly misted eyes, softened from their usual guarded sheen, that draws you in. The slight upturn at the corner of her mouth suggests she's pondering the same thought: the richness of your history together didn't always follow the conventional path of strong friendships. Still, you're both grateful for the memories you've created and for Yelena's grace in forgiving past transgressions.

It's a fitting evening to begin a new chapter, and you're hopeful that each subsequent page will be even better.

Yelena nods ever so slightly. “Yeah,” she exhales, her voice a thin whisper over the candlelights, “I suppose it did.”

It's late, and with everyone gone, the four of you are left to close up the restaurant.

With a swirl of your wine and a nod towards the remaining bottle in the ice bucket, you ask the group, “One more for the road?”

[definitelynuwonhere]

2nd Gen Shawpack Pookies

I’ve had them in my notes for AGES and I’ve still yet to finish a design, but i do intend on creating little skits of them cuz of how much I’ve invested giving them all personalities and pinterest boards. (If this isn’t me exhibiting my deep love for the Redactedverse idk what is)

Some descriptions are longer than the others, I’ve obviously put more thought into certain characters

•Shaw Twins

- both children are sadly ungifted in the kitchen, despite the fact that David has made them his little helpers when since they were little. Multiple flames have been put out because of them.

-Both do share a love for nature like their father.

Gabriella Shaw (Gabby)🫶🏻

- Angel carbon copy with a dash of Gabriel’s silliness and courage, which always made David smile.

- Natural born Leader. Despite being the eldest child (4 fucking minutes) David has never burdened them with the responsibility or thought of inheriting the business. She stepped into the leadership role on her own, with more brighter approach, personality wise.

- Rollerskates, Angel started taking her to roller rinks since age 6 and she loves taking Lyss and KC with her

Callum Grey Shaw 🌱

-Yes he’s named after the sweet Caelum. David wanted to commemorate his childhood friend.

- Inherited David’s resting bitch face, if you point it out he’ll even growl like he does.

- Great Observer. Because his sister was the more outgoing one of them, he was always the listener, making him more emotionally aware, noticing things most people miss.

- Loves sitcoms. He’s probably watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine so many times he can name episodes in order. This also translates his love for the security company his dad runs. Always begging David to take him to work with him. (I think we know who inherits the company)

•Talbot Troop

-Asher is the only one I picture having multiple kids with a range of age gaps.

-No doubt the most outgoing ones of the pack.

August Talbot (Auggie) 🍕

- Foodie

- Life of the party, stealin’ hearts with his million watt smile

- DDR is his sport

Kelcee Talbot (KC/CeeCee) 🧠

- Designated driver of the group

- Straight A student. When she was young she’d share all the interesting facts she’d pick up on to her parents and it always astounded Asher, how she can command a room, especially being the SOMEWHAT, mellow one among the three.

Oliver James Talbot (OJ/Ollie) 🪲

- Very inquisitive

- Youngest of the pack (the only 7yr old in a group of 17 year olds)

- Has a special bond with Alyssa

•Greer Icon

Alyssa Marie Greer 💥

-Now while i think of Milo and SW as the D.I.N.K (dual income, no kids) couple, and i will somewhat always think that, but— this name crossed my head and I just cannot let it go. IT HONORS MARIE OK—

-Unsurprisingly is always the best dressed. Milo is very proud.

-Has a very ‘takes no bull personality’ making them the most intimidating out of group.

- Plays archery competitively

- Straightforward

-Weirdly great with babies, explains her close bond with Oliver

•Collins

Sean Riley Collins 🥐

- aka Peace Officer Collins

- The code name speaks for itself, he is very much like his old man when it comes to ensuring his friends don’t do anything stupid, and in the very common occasions they do, he of course serves them with a patented Collins lecture.

- He may be half vamp, but that doesn’t mean he has to have a mundane food pallet, this man can COOK and bake, a soft, crispy shelled sourdough being one of his specialties

•Solaire

Hugo Solaire 🎭

- theater kid

- sarcastic, confident, somewhat frivolous, despite his royal status, which gets him in trouble for

- May or may not have a thing for the alpha’s daughter.

- Like Vincent, he’s mostly only close to the Collins’ but has occasionally hanged out with the shaw pack.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for this wonderful Brooklyn, New York City 1910 Renaissance Revival limestone that underwent a top-to-bottom designer renovation and restoration in 2021. 7bds, 4.5ba, $8.9M. And, if you like blue, you'll love the decor. (No white & gray.)

The designer did, however, paint the original wood white. (I would've told her not to touch the mirror- a little contrast never hurt.) Notice that the newel post and railing are black. Painting original wood to brighten older homes is a trend that, if it goes out of style, will be a bitch to put back to the way it was.

The sitting room with rusty red accents. I like to analyze what designers do- they left all the originals, just painted over them. The floors look great with the inlaid patterns.

The dining room has a taste of the Orient with deep purplish toned wood and black & gold floral wallpaper.

The was renovated and renewed. At least it's light and bright.

The light fixture is glass, but they look like plastic squeeze bottles from a distance.

Attractive guest powder room.

The library has a door that opens to the garden.

Beautiful stained glass skylight in the stair well.

Pretty primary bedroom has a little seating area and a lovely fireplace.

And, there's also a small private balcony.

They made a closet/dressing room and a modern bath with a stylized take on a clawfoot tub.

Modern sauna. They made a radiator cover to match and left the stained glass window.

Rusty red family room with a pop of color.

Two of the smaller secondary bedrooms. The yellow one is very small, but cute and they did fit in a nice chair.

Brand new shower room.

In this room they constructed a lofted bed. Fun for a kid. Glad they kept the fireplace.

They don't show the garden, but they do feature the rooftop deck.

Lovely street in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn.

[silent-raven13]

"It's all cool."

(AU: So I was inspired by one of Heiibo's artworks, it's the one with the Au of Miles being in his 30s and Hobie in his 20s. So I decided to write a one-shot.)

Hobie L. Brown, a twenty three year old student at Borough Brooklyn Community College soon transferring to New York University, if he wants to go that route. Honestly, he's not sure if he should transfer. There's many reasons to why he shouldn't go to a University.

One it's a fucking scam! He can't justified paying so much money for a couple of classes for a degree, he could perfect his skills by putting himself out there.

Two, he likes the easy slack off of community college, he's not weighted by so many units being a part time student. It's easier for him to be Spider-man, jumping through hopes. It's a tough job being Spider-man while maintaining a personal life.

The young man had his big red headphones on while listening to Kendrick Lamar, he holds on his skateboard and Jansport customize backpack. His black backpack had all sorts of pins, buttons, markers of doodles and graffiti, he likes his things having his own artistic touch. The tall skinny young man let his heavy red Doc martins boots make heavy thuds with his baggy light blue sweats and a white sleeveless shirt. His bouncy freeform locs follow every step he takes, his grey eyes glistening by the lights in the hallway heading towards an apartment door.

The last reason... He stopped by the number of the apartment, his heart pounding against his chest... he could feel his cheeks warm. Is he flustered? Does anyone noticed he's blushing? Probably not with his dark skinned tone, yet his eyes gaze with love. If he does transfer, he will no longer have a reason to see his crush.

With two knocks, he heard a male voices through the door, "Coming." Hobie bites his bottom lips feeling his heart pounding faster and faster, he's excited to see his crush.

Then, at the door swung open revealing an older thirty year old black Latino man with big Honey-brown eyes and a great smile. God, Hobie loves his smile, it's like he's staring at a Sunflower.

"Hey, Hobs! What's good? Glad you can make it." The thirty year old happily smiles, "I'm so glad you agreed to help me."

"Heh, it's no problem, Miles." Hobie plays it off cool, being the quiet one.

The older man name Miles chuckles, "Still I appreciated it." Hobie met Miles in a Literature class, they seem to hit off. The tall young man got to learn Miles went back to school for a quick certificate, he already had a Bachelor's Degree in Graphic Design. It didn't take him long enough to fall for the thirty year old, he's his type. Smart, funny, love for good music, loves art, Miles is an artist, and he's so passionated about whatever he put his mind to it.

Hobie fallen for this man hard! If he were to transfer, would they be able to contact each other like right now? He doesn't believe so.

"Come on in, man. You thirsty? I can get you soda, or juice or-" Hobie walks inside Miles' apartment seeing how clean it is. "Um... Soda is cool." He lick his dry lips taking in his crush's scent, the type of aesthetics he's into.

Miles' apartment had a modern style mostly simple, it seems the warm bricks was the main attraction to the living room. So the subtle warm tones with black furnitures suited the room, having a bit of plants and warm light wood. Hobie's eyes saw the creamy white wall with a few paintings and photos.

"Sit, man." Miles came by with a cup of tea and can of cold soda, "Man, I'm glad you're here. I need your opinion on these projects I'm working on."

"It's all cool." Hobie sat on the couch putting his headphones down around his neck. He took the can of soda to sip.

"So how's your day going?" Miles stood taking a sip of his tea, he gave a small smile. "Heh, sorry for my fit. I kinda dress like this on my day off." He wore a black oversized shirt and black sweats.

"Nah, it's cool." Hobie kicking himself. What is he thinking using the same vocabulary? 'It's cool'?

"Haha, always being a cool dude, Hobie." Miles decided to sit on the couch next to Hobie, he set his tea on the coffee table, then grab his laptop on his coffee table, "So, let's get started."

The twenty three year old nodded, he inhale Miles' scent. Damn, he smells real good that cologne he wears always got him intoxicated. Hobie saw his crush typing away, then a message pop up which got the older man to sharply inhale.

"Sorry, dude. I gotta check on my work for the moment." Miles sigh, his whole bubbly personality shifted to a serious attitude.

Hobie saw the older Latino giving a slight frown, then inhale sharply at the email he received. The younger male being curious slightly leans over looking like a cute puppy with his grey eyes sparkling to catch a whiff of Miles' cologne.

"Mmm," Miles place to fingers on his left cheek letting his chin rest on the rest of the finger having to think.

Hobie leans in more to the point his face rested on his crush's left shoulder not really caring what the document on Miles' laptop is, he gave a small sigh through his nose. He wanted Miles to focus on hi this time.

"Sorry man, I know you changed your work schedule to see me. Let me give a quick message and I'll work on this later." Miles chuckles as he leaves back letting his head slightly tap against Hobie's.

That's another thing Hobie likes about Miles, he wasn't the typically Macho Black Latino that always try to prove their masculinity. He seems to be very comfortable with being touchy with Hobie.

Hobie's heart flutter feeling Miles' warm cheek touching him, yet he maintain his cool. "It's alright." He said.

Miles quickly type his message to send it to his team, "There. Awe man, I didn't expect for Alchemax to be very strict on their copyright. Make sense."

"Oh yeah? What was it about?" He asked.

"Some new drug. We needed to make some designs for it, and worked on their website." He chuckles, "They always compete with Oscorp."

"Oh..." Then Hobie saw Miles' desktop with a fan photo of Spider-man swinging from around the boroughs. "You... You like Spider-man?"

"Yeah, he's cool. I like how he's cleaning up the city. It's been a long time since the city been safe, with all the news coming out about corruption with the NYPD... I'm glad we have a Superhero willing to take matters in his own hands."

"Oh yeah?" This made Hobie flustered a bit more before sitting back on his spot.

"Yeah, heh." Miles finally had his laptop rest on his lap, "So, for class... are you ready for the Midterm?"

"Fuck no." Hobie chuckles.

This made Miles laughs, "Yeah, me neither. I guess we need to start somewhere." The two are taking African American Music studies. "So... what were thoughts on the Punk era?"

"I loved it. I always listen to those types of music." Hobie said.

"Oh yeah?" Miles chuckles, "I didn't take you to be into punk music."

"I always loved their beliefs. Anarchy ruling while capitalism is down." He's a bit shy talking about his own opinions. Sometimes he keeps to himself about it.

"I'm more into R&B." Miles rubs his chin, "I'm a bit old school, ha. I am an old man."

"You're not old, man. You look like you're twenty seven."

"Ha, thanks. Anyway, we should get started with the beginning." Miles got his music ebook and flips it over. Hobie took out his textbook with his iPad and apple pen taking notes.

The two study together giving each other pointers and made flashcards. Miles brought out a bag of chips and all sorts of snacks. "Hey, let me know if you're hungry. I can order us Chinese food, my treat."

"Oh thanks man." Hobie said, "I... I can pay-" Miles shook his head, "Nah, it's fine. Get whatever you want, it's my treat since you took time off to study with me. Helping this old man study, hahaha."

Hobie nodded, "Okay." His grey eyes watches his crush getting up to get him another can of soda. Then, the front door jiggled suddenly being open.

A grown Asian man came walking in talking through his airpod, "Oh yeah? Well, I told you that Wednesday is a no go because we need to get the report from Sander! Okay, contact him." The guy looked surprised to find a young stranger in the living room. "Um.. hi?"

Hobie was about to curse him out, until he heard Miles' voice.

"Ganks, that you?" Miles came from the kitchen to the living room spotting his best friend. "Hey, man."

"Hey, dude. I came to the stereo. Sorry, I didn't know you were on a date." Ganke said.

"What? No, we're just classmates, man. He's definitely too young me for." Miles quickly said, this made Hobie a bit upset. Really? Hobie didn't think he was that young, then again Miles probably had more experience with- Wait, did Ganke assume he was Miles' date- so that means-

He felt his whole face warm, there's a chance Miles is gay or bisexual. That made him super happy to know he'll have a chance, if he's Miles' type. It seems his crush views him like a kid, which sucks. "Hobie, this is Ganks. My best friend."

Ganke got his stereo before taking his leave, he side hug his best friend bidding him a farewell. Miles went back to Hobie, "Sorry about that. I forgot my best friend was coming, his fiancee asked for my stereo for a party."

"Are you going?"

"Nah, it's more for couples and I ain't gonna be on a blind date." Miles casually said.

"Oh yeah? You don't want to find that special someone."

"Ehh, I feel like I work too much." Miles chuckles, "But you're young, so I recommend enjoying your youth. I'm pretty happy being on my own." He finally sat next to Hobie. "Anyway, I'll stop talking about my boring dating life, I bet ya'll young folks prefer a good talk about multiple partners and stuff."

"No. I... I actually don't mind hearing you. You're not old, you know. I think you're pretty young." Hobie slightly frowns, "You are pretty inspirational."

"Oh..." This made Miles a bit bashful, "Awe, man. You're making me blush, heh." The young man gave him a small smile. Hobie always been kind to him from he saw in their classes. The young man never seems to be bothered by anything or ignore everyone he doesn't care for. Yet, he always treated him as a friend, and seems like an adorable lost puppy.

Then he felt Hobie's head lay on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, um... I got accepted to New York University."

"Ay, that's great. You gonna go?"

"My scholarship only pays part of it, I would have to take out student loans." He yawns, "I wanted to ask you if... you think its worth it."

"Hmm, honestly Universities are a scam. I don't want you to be debt and feel like nothing good came out of it. Think about the major you pick and see you can do it with an Associate. I do believe Masters can only take you far if you're into business, or tech or stuff like STEM. But if it's about making music or producing you can survive with your Associates or none, just networking."

"Hm," Hobie didn't want to go, he wanted to be here with Miles. At least, he felt safe with him, and there's no judgement. This is the first time he fell for a guy like Miles, his own taste in people never were as good as him. "I dunno... I'm a bit unsure."

"Hey take your time. Do what you want. I feel like I got lucky with school. Of course, I worked my ass off but honestly, if I were to start over, I should've went to community college and start from there. Would've been much easier to find what I wanna do."

"Really? Your mister Columbia."

"Haha, hey with the major I pick I think I would've been fine with other schools with a much lower tuition. My student loans wouldn't bite me in the ass." He jokes, "Anyway, take your time. Damn, if you go we might not hang out like this anymore. I'ma miss this."

"You... you don't wanna hang with me outside of school. I know, I'll be in a different school, but..."

Miles quickly said, "I don't mind, it's just... you might wanna enjoy your college life. Make new friends-" Hobie quickly said, "I like hanging out with you." His grey eyes gleaming at his crush.

"Me too, man. If that's the case, I can share you my socials!" Miles offer.

"Sure. Um.. my stuff is a bit..." Hobie saw his own Socials seeing how he post himself showing off his chest, or being seductive. Maybe he can catch Miles being interested in him. "rated r."

"Nah, that's fine. My artworks been a bit R rated..." Miles admits having to share his personal art social media.

Hobie got the chance to see Miles' artworks, they are beautiful and empowering of black men and women. There's drawings of their body in the nude with pencil, markers, and paint. It's Life drawing of these figures expressing their body. Lowkey, Hobie got jealous seeing these men being so damn handsome with their hands holding their penis with a grin on their face, and eyes staring at the viewer. This means, this person was smiling at Miles when he drew this.

"A bit too much, huh?"

"No. It's cool. So were they your partners?"

"Some... some are old friends, models..." Miles chuckles, "I really like this drawing. The model was so much fun to be around. I think I got his number..." He got a weird serious look from Hobie. "What?"

"Nuthin'." Hobie didn't like that. He can tell the model might have a thing for Miles. It's like his eyes turned almost sharp like a Great Dane, like be careful whatcha say. "You keep their numbers?" Sounding jealous.

"Ha, only for hang outs or for my next project. He lowkey got a bit expensive since everyone likes using him as their muse."

"I could be your muse."

"Hm?" Miles got caught off guard from that.

"If you look at my socials you can find me posing at stuff for fun. People say I'm model material... I just never saw myself like that."

"Let me see," Miles saw Hobie's socials to find pictures of him showing off his V-line and happy trail, "Ohh, I see. Yeah, you got a great body, would you be comfortable if you posed in the nude?" Since he's an artist, he wasn't phased by nudity.

"Hmm, depends what type of poses." Hobie would be nervous to have Miles staring at his naked body. "I wouldn't wanna show my junk."

"That's fine. We can have a blanket covering it. What about your butt? I do like how tall and slim you are, I'm assuming you got an amazing back." Miles' artistic side blooming with ideas for his next projects. He gasps, "I can have you lay on a bed with a nice silk sheets and cover some parts. You got nice piercings on your body, it would be ashamed to not draw them."

Hobie nodded, "Yeah?" He never saw Miles so happy about drawing him, it actually got him happy. Can he really be his muse?

"Oh man, we're getting side track. Sorry, man. You probably wanna focus on school-" Hobie shook his head, "No, I'm fine with us just talking. I kinda know most of this stuff." Honestly, he already taken the class before and passed with flying colors. He retook it when he heard Miles telling them in their friends' circle at school about needing this class for an elective. Hobie just had to retake it to be closer to him.

"This is pretty much your stuff. I don't expect less from Hobie Brown." Miles chuckles which got Hobie lovingly staring at his smile.

Soon the two went back to studying, then Miles order Chinese food. The two ate while studying a bit more. "Mmm, this is pretty fun." Miles said, then he noticed Hobie slowly falling asleep on his shoulder. Should he wake him up?

The young man looks so cute like this. It seems like he's exhausted. Who knows how busy he is with his part time jobs! Miles put a blanket over them, he kept studying for a bit. Soon Hobie snuggle against him being comfortable, he felt safe with his crush around him.

Miles noticed how the young man got on top of him almost having him be his stuffed teddy bear. "A little break with be fine." So Miles set his textbook aside and lies down to let his friend snuggle him. The thirty year old went on his phone texting his best friend.

Ganke: Dude, that guy likes you 🥱

Miles just chuckles, then felt Hobie's arms wrapping around his waist a bit tighter. "Mmm." He snoozes.

The older man rub his friend's slender back to calm him body, then said, "Sleep tight, Hobie." Placing a small kiss on his forehead like he would do when he watched over his baby sister. Hobie let out a small smile still sleeping away, he had one of the best sleep in his life.

[plasticfangtastic]

Anybody Else Won't Do. Ch. 2

A Homeash Fanfic

A/N: apologies for the delay but I hope y'all enjoy this chapter if y'all wanna be tagged plz let me know, prev. chapter here:

Tags: romance, fluff, Homelander warning, dadlander, slight spicy not really smut.

Chapter Two

He tried controlling the narrative, flirting with some of the single moms, some receptive and some terrified of the kind of wrath they would incur from his woman if she ever found out.

What took him by surprise was the disgust of the alpha moms– the audacity of him to be openly unfaithful in a room of mostly married parents, they thought of him as shameless, unbefitting of his image, certainly not the Homelander they've known for decades, and he could tell by the way they stared at him from a distance.

These women were spiteful, protective of their code of honor, and mothers who dared flirt soon found themselves in piranha infested waters according to playground whispers.

Homelander could only find the situation disturbingly familiar.

Disgusted looks for him and pitiful stares welcomed Ashley.

Other parents became nicer towards her, suddenly actively trying to befriend her, throwing invitations for coffee and to join them with their kids for playdates whenever they spotted her, most of the times catching her by surprise and all she could do was smile awkwardly in absolute confusion as to what was going on, at first anyways… eventually it began to eat her with anxiety for they had a habit of speaking over here, convos being so brief she hardly had a second to spit out her words, or a child that was at times just as pushy as his father pulling her away before she could respond properly, at times she wonder if Ryan was trying to protect her from that pack of hyenas instead of being impolite.

And it was all she could think about at work, the words wife simmering in her mind.

Watching him grumble and curse after another verbal lashing disguised as a meeting she stays back as the rest of the team leaves, he lifts his gaze annoyed to witness he wasn’t alone.

He straightened his back, grinding his jaw but he isn’t menacing– he’s visibly uncomfortable by her presence, it’s admittedly both unnerving but masochistically soothing to witness.

“Can we talk?” She tried to sound as sweet as she could, for she was just as frightened as he was uncomfortable– is about Ryan…”

That washed away his discomfort and wrapped him with anxiety. She hurried to take a seat as the man eagerly awaited for her to spit it out, his eyes so wide she wondered if she should’ve worded things differently.

She takes a deep breath before turning her phone towards him, he stares at her annoyed, ready to bark and growl until he reads the speech bubble.

“You’re not on the groupchat.”

“What am I looking at, Ashley?”

“The Mom’s groupchat… I don’t know how they found me and added me to their groupchat but you're not there and–” She takes her phone for a moment and switchest group– they added me to a private one… with Brooklyn and Steph.”

Homelander designate them as the alpha moms, the leaders, those so fawn over that their lives were not just exemplary but worthy of imitation-- from the way they dresses to their way of thinking after all they were the creme de la creme of New York City socialites: classy, wealthy and beautiful. The kind to get their own spin-off of The Real housewife of New York type, MET Gala invitee for no reason type, he was certain that at least one of the women had been on the show... if not at a Whitehouse dinner for Steph's perfume was familiar, and her husband some congressman.

Homelander took the phone off her hand, almost cracking the screen as he read the exchanges.

“I’m cheating on you!?? We are not even together!?” He shouts, his eyes flicking faster than police sirens in a high speed chase– what…? They think am a scumbag!?”

“They gave me their lawyer’s phone number in case I need it.” She bites her lip– I don’t think I can pick up Ryan anymore–

“So they think that you left me because I cheated on you!!” He barks– You don’t leave me Ashley! I leave you!”

He threw the phone across the table, his mouth ajar and his eyes so wide and mystified by it all.

“If this gets out… dear god I would have more than TMZ on my ass.” He stares at the phone from afar– Fucking Brooklyn Buccellati… How long has she been spreading this? How long have you been in these groupchats!?” He shouts.

“Two weeks before I noticed you weren’t in, I mean you don’t like using your phone much Homelander and Also Ashley handles your socials so I didn't notice am so sorry, sir… and maybe for a while…”

“Are all these jobless bitches just gossiping and talking shit about me in there?” He began to sound hurt, his eyes getting pink in the corner– I can’t believe they didn’t include me! Am Ryan’s actual parent!! Not you!”

His voice tries not to crack at the end, as miniscule as she was the thought of her replacing him haunted his thoughts, Ryan who was fond of her, who didn’t hate her or found that being around her was a waste his time... certainly seen her in a light Homelander never had and now he feared this was by design and not his son's innate compassionate soul.

Last night memory of being in the theater watching 'Cats' was soiled even further by the fact that that was her recommendation the kid had followed, he had picked her's over his, and irritation that had been carried snce last night.

Ashley was unknowingly trying to replace Homelander, she wanted to steal him away and take him back to Vought’s lab, he thought. His heart palpitation tickled his ears… she was just another one of them not somebody he should trust… a familiar voice whispered to him alone, he was struggling to breath and yet Ashley could only sit there wondering what was eating him up.

“It’s mostly talking about tutors, extracurriculars and tennis… but yeah they don’t like you and I think they kicked out some of the members because you flirted with them, Homelander.” 

Ashley shrank in her seat.

Her tone was so normal… spiced by anxiety… he calmed down a bit reminding himself that she was useless without him, he had broken her and groomed her to his liking, she wouldn’t have the audacity of conspiring against him.

She didn’t have it in her to hurt Ryan... not anymore.

He paced around the boardroom, she dared not leave for fear this was her fault, for she barely replied to the messages mostly lurking and answering things about Ryan’s schedule obviously Brooklyn and Steph’s kids were friends with Ryan, Homelander had competition in the fake bitch department for that woman was perfectly poised and friendly when he was around, never acting like she was better than him, never letting him suspect she held such disdain, even when sharing bellinis while Ryan joined her son Credence for piano lessons no wonder she wouldn’t shut up about owning a Grothian, she was bragging about being more cultured than this beach blond hick, and he had been too narcissitic to note.

Yet as he took a deep breath he realized that he couldn’t intimidate her, he couldn’t kill her– he could but it might not be a good idea; she had too much social clout to risk a Starlight-lite situation… especially not when he was being used so heavily in a presidential campaign, a scandal was the last thing he wanted in his lap.

“Okay. Who else knows about this? Beside Miss Piggy, Annie Sue Pig and the Snowths!”

“Just us.”

“You have to fix this. You have to cheat on me… publicly.” He said with a deadpan tone– flirt with one of the mom’s or dad’s I don’t care– just have your cooch eaten, then we “break-up” understand?”

“We could also set it straight that we are not a couple” Her grimace was painful to look at.

“Oh, yeah.” His smile comes with a whiplash– You’re just my pet.”

Ashley could feel her own brain malfunction, maybe it was the casualness of his tone, frankly she had been forever curious as to what he saw when he looked at her but never did she picture herself with a collar– a minion, slave, a servant, a grunt, those were things she could definitely see herself as.

But not a pet.

“Pet?”

“A gerbil, with your big eyes and nervous disposition.” He takes a few steps back towards her– little, simple minded, adorable and easy to break.”

Her jaw tightened as she processed his expression, he walked towards the discarded phone mockingly lamenting the cracked screen before returning it to his owner who sat defeated.

“It be easy if we release an official statement but I think it is best if you just use those manicured paper pushing thumbs of yours to type one final comment.” 

“But that would mean you won’t have access to their conversations anymore” 

He had just missed that smirk forming in her lips.

His eyes perked up, likign the sound of her idea... there were benefits of knowing the backdoor gossip, to learn what he could use against them, and for once he was glad to have Ashley around.

“Oh you think I could what… blackmail them? With what stolen gluten-free eggless carrot cake recipes?”

“They talk shit of their husbands… of each other… am sure they wouldn’t like it if anything leaked… it’s an invite only exclusive group.” Her smile as sharp as her nails– am sure we could cause a little scene just to get back at them for thinking they are better than you.”

He felt his ears grow warm, he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“You are the only one left worth something in this company, it seems.”

She watched his cape sway as he left, she cursed silently as she digested his words: A gerbil. That’s all she amounted to? After all the abuse, after doing everything to win his graces, all she was was a glorified rat– bit rich coming from the lab rat, she thought.

It made her throat itch, as her eyes burned slightly. He had no right to see her that way after all she has done for him, after being the most diligent and loyal person in this room– certainly most of it came from being utterly frightened by him but it wasn’t without perks, she was CEO! 5 years ago that would had been a fantasy, forever just an assistant always running to get matcha lattes for Stillwell and the other execs that laid eyes on her, she had broken her back, endure disrespect and unfairness before landing her first major league gig with 'the Seven' back when Starlight arrived, she was so proud and excited for the opportunity to prove she was more than just a glorified secretary... but somebody of value to Vought.

Then of course she was fired.

She could still feel the throat pain from screaming, crying then hollering when she got the call from HR saying that The Homelander had personally recommended her for the job, a man she had sworn had barely acknowledged her existence.

If she was in the room he might had given her a glance, call her by the right name 4 out of 10 times, he barely bothered with her yet the moment she finished that phone call– she was over the moon, to think that deep down he had noticed her… then the incident and everything else after and continues to happen… Now it made sense why he liked her above all the others.

She was just his pet and people liked their pets.

She was glad that it came with the security of being in his inner circle, people kept their distance, gave her respect and did not piss her off for she was Homelander fave… lapdog more accurately, but still only he got to belittle her not them.

So she squeezed her fist so tight she fail to notice the blood under her nails.

She was gonna force him to say he liked her.

After all they have endured together, she would make him like her.

To look at her.

Not at the gerbil fursuit he dressed her with.

Is not like the bastard had friends… subjects most definitely but not even a real confidant, just him in his depressingly emptied tower.

And what better way to bond together but by scheming petty vengeances? For he was the pettiest man in the whole kingdom, it should be easy, she thought.

Homelander scratches at his ear thinking of her big green eyes, her sultry expression, that flirty smile that was obviously trying hard to be alluring… he never expected that woman to even be capable of it, much less that it would fail to disgust him.

That even if he suspected she could betray him, he didn’t despise her… trusting her inability to try to fuck with him. 

It stayed with him until his head rested on silk pillows, silk was a slippery thing but it was good for his skin allegedly, yet he hated it on nights like this.

Rolling side-to-side, earning no eyeshut or rest, no force can’t keep his eyes closed, he rolls off his bed walking around with a dried mouth, his apartment sparsely lit by manhattan’s skyline but is not like he would bump against anything. He looks around the various groups still working in the offices below most of the building its barren, not surprising considering its past midnight, he can tell The Deep its still binging some comfort 90s sitcom, A-Train has left the building probably hanging out all night with his friends and the others are either asleep or glued to their devices– he can’t say he’s entertained wrapping his silk robe as he defeatedly moves towards the kitchen with the hopes that a drink will help him sleep.

He continues looking beneath him, following the working ants that are still glued to their computer screen typing incessantly while half-drank coffee cups and energy drinks piled up on their desk, security guards doing the rounds and a scientist yawning as he does his runs.

A glass fills before his ear catchest muffled moaning, a dirty smirk decorates his features as he follows the sounds, taking a sip until his eyes catch a glimpse of a nasty scene, a man having his bindings undone, his hair a complete disaster, his behind covered in red stripes from the belting he��d received and his darkened gaze it's glued on the woman speaking to him.

He takes a bitter sip as he witnesses that salacious sight.

Blouse hanging open covering very little of a lacy two-piece set... bold choice he noted.

Homelander could care less about what the two are speaking of, for all he knows Coleman is not even in the room, all he’s witnessing… all he’s paying attention– is her body, that demure expression of pure satisfaction as her hand smoothly re-wrapped a pink rope.

Licking his lip as she fixes her hair, her lipstick smudged just a bit.

Homelander stays planted on that spot thinking of gossiping tongues, women looking at them solely as a pair, it peeved him, unable to accept that it peeved him to see her make such an expression to men like Coleman and Bourke, when she could be aiming higher… after all he was the best she would ever get even if it was just for a rouse.

Giggling in the dark, he continues to watch her.

“They think you’re my wife… at least they think you can pull better than that! Have some self-respect Ashley” he whispers to himself– jesus…”

Watching her until she’s home alone, glad that she has a day off tomorrow, showering without care, her hair had returned and now styled into a trendy pixie cut he much prefer if it was longer… it suited her best, brushing her expensive wig before finishing with her skin care routine, he can’t say he was entertained.

But he watched, feeling nostalgic. 

tag-- hope you enjoy this @ultrasoniccarousel

[liaromancewriter]

What Could Have Been (6/?)

Series Premise: When Ethan breaks his promise, Cassie is forced to accept they’re not inevitable after all.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angst Words: 1,660

Series Masterlist

Chapter 6: Sunshine and Rainbows. A new romance leads to a surprising admission and food for thought.

A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge - using January challenge prompt "dating". I'm also using one of the flirty pick-up prompts @creativepromptsforwriting. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills

Cassie Valentine had forgotten what it was like to primp for a date and try out sexy outfits designed to drive a man crazy. And feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach when she really liked a guy.

She tried to remember the last time she’d been on a date. Flipping a mental calendar, she paused in surprise that it was with Nate Hanson six months ago. And now they’d come full circle.

Despite their physical intimacy, she and Ethan Ramsey had never gone on a date. And she was a woman who loved romance. So why had she settled for less?

Because being with him in whatever way she could, had filled her heart in so many other ways.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, Cassie nodded in satisfaction. Dark jeans, a black blouse that shimmered in the light, a dark red leather jacket and subtle jewelry completed the look.

She was grateful Nate had texted to say the dress code was casual. After today’s harrowing events, she wasn’t in the mood for fancy. Luckily nothing was broken or torn, and the swelling in her shoulder would die down in a few days as long as she didn’t overdo it.

Cassie absently wondered what it would be like to go on an actual date with Ethan, not just a stolen coffee catch-up at Derry’s or wine and takeout in his apartment.

In her mind, she saw a candlelit table tucked away in the corner. Ethan in a beautiful suit, her in a gorgeous dress that would make his eyes darken with desire. He would have to behave in public, but the dress never stood a chance once the door to his apartment closed behind them.

And imagining what couldn’t be was not helping her get in the mood for her very real date with a lovely man who deserved better.

When the knock came on her door, Cassie shook off the memories and reached for the sling, carefully adjusting it around her strained left shoulder before cradling her elbow.

With a final look in the mirror, she blinked away the lingering sadness and left the past behind.

“You know, when you said we’re going out for pizza, I wasn’t expecting to be whisked off to Brooklyn in a helicopter,” Cassie said a few hours later.

She hummed in pleasure as the hot, gooey cheese burnt the top of her mouth and the mouth-watering flavors exploded on her tongue.

“Best pizza in the city,” Nate grinned, carefully biting into his slice. “And I was trying to impress you even if private jets and helicopters are par the course for a Valentine.”

“It worked,” Cassie teased, lifting her glass of Chianti in a mock salute. “This pie was definitely worth the trip.”

“I make it a point to visit Lucali whenever I’m in town,” he said.

The atmosphere in the pizzeria, with the aroma of garlic and Italian spices in the air, was homey and casual. Packed with locals and tourists alike, the restaurant was loud and noisy, perfect for her mood.

“How’d you hear about this place?” Cassie asked, curious. She knew Nate lived and worked in Bethesda.

“I was visiting VCs in the area, trying to secure funding for my start-up. This was back in med school,” he told her.

“I’d already decided residency wasn’t for me and opted out of the match process. Needless to say, I was financially desperate and emotionally invested in getting the company off the ground.”

He polished off his slice before continuing the story. “Anyway, after a couple of rough meetings where I was basically laughed out of the room, I walked around the neighborhood and stumbled upon this place. I hadn’t eaten all day and practically inhaled a whole pie.”

“And you loved it so much it became your favorite?” Cassie prompted when he paused, lost in thought.

He laughed. “Not quite. I was sitting in the corner, wondering if I’d just thrown my career away on a whim, when one of the top VCs in biotech dropped in for dinner. Apparently, he’s a regular here.”

As he narrated the tale, Cassie watched Nate’s face become animated with a hint of self-deprecation she found charming and refreshing. He wasn’t afraid to share parts of himself with her.

Ethan always held himself back from everyone, only letting his guard down when she backed him into a corner.

“I figured nothing left to lose, so I walked over and pitched him the idea while he dug into his calzone. I could tell he was amused by my naïvity,” he grinned and shook his head at the memory.

“He handed me his business card and told me if I was gutsy enough to interrupt his dinner, I’d earned at least twenty minutes on his calendar. Tim’s still my biggest investor and has become a friend and mentor.”

“So, you brought me here because this place is special for you,” Cassie said, astutely connecting the dots.

“Yes,” Nate said, topping their wine glasses. ”It marked a new and auspicious professional beginning for me. I’m hoping it does the same on a personal level with you.”

Cassie sniffed in amusement and observed him over the rim of her glass. “Tim was right. You’re definitely gutsy. No wonder Fortune Magazine put you on the cover.”

Cassie appreciated that he didn’t push her for an answer, letting their conversation drift to other topics. But in the back of her mind, she kept turning over his proposition and wondered if she was ready to move on from Ethan.

It was late when they returned to Boston, and the drive from Logan Airport to her apartment didn’t take long. Cassie felt satiated from the meal and the company. And a little bit tipsy from the wine, if she was honest.

Nate escorted her up the steps of her building, and they stood facing each other in front of the street entrance door. He took her hand and moved close, angling his face, and his hazel eyes caught the light.

Anticipating a goodnight kiss, Cassie tilted her head back and wondered how his lips would feel against hers. And would they be enough to make her forget laser blue eyes and a firm mouth that had touched every part of her body and soul?

Lifting his hand, he tenderly brushed a golden lock of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

“So,” he murmured, leaning in. “How does dinner and dancing sound for our next date?”

“Hmm. I haven’t decided if I’m going on a third date with you yet,” Cassie said, amused.

“You know, I believe that honesty is the best policy,” Nate said, his lips hovering above hers. “So, to be perfectly honest, I want to spend many more days with you.”

Cassie stilled. He was being honest with her, and she owed him the same. She stepped back, breaking the spell cast by the wine and a moonlit night.

“I need to confess something,” she said, closing her eyes briefly as she struggled to find the right words.

Nate looked confused, but he didn’t say anything.

“I was in a relationship until recently, and it ended badly,” Cassie said, rushing to get the words out before the pain that never went away caught up. “He broke my heart, but I can’t seem to get over him. I don’t want to lie to you, pretend I’m okay moving on when I don’t know if I’m ready.”

She peeked at Nate through her brows, worried that she’d hurt him or made him angry by not being honest sooner. He looked taken aback, but he pressed his lips and schooled his features neutrally.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting, Cassie,” Nate said eventually. “But I can’t be sorry that his loss is my gain.”

He put up a hand when she started to speak.

“Not many people know this, but I was engaged several years ago,” he said, shoving his hands in his pant pockets and rocking back on his heels. “She dumped me when she realized I didn’t want to become a doctor after med school. It took me a long time to get over what we were to each other, longer than it should have. So, I get it.”

“I like you,” Cassie said sincerely, tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you when I’m still mourning the loss of what could have been.”

“Dreams of what could be are the worst delusions and the hardest to wake up from,” he said softly, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Nate checked his wristwatch. “It’s late. You have work tomorrow, and I need to fly back to Maryland tonight.”

He stepped towards her and framed her face between his hands, his eyes so gentle and understanding that Cassie felt like crying.

“I like you too, Cassie, and we could be amazing together,” he said. “Selfishly, I want you to pick me because you believe that too. But I don’t want to be the fallback guy because you know he will never be an option.”

“I do believe that, but….” Cassie said, her voice drifting off when uncertainty reared its ugly head.

“Let’s do this,” he said, filling the silence. “I’m leaving on an R&D trip to Australia in a few days with a detour to Singapore. I should be back in about three weeks, four at the most. Take this time to figure out what you need and if things with him are truly over. I’ll accept your decision, whatever that is.”

He kissed her forehead, a sweet touch rife with friendship and caring, and then he was gone.

Cassie watched the red lights of his car fade into the distance and wished she could fall in love with Nate. But as things stood now, she couldn’t see herself loving anyone but Ethan.

When a Valentine meets their true love, it’s for life. But could a Ramsey believe that too?

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

All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

[cabinetmakerqueens]

Dressing Room Design Queens

A dressing room is a dedicated space where you can store and organize your clothing, shoes, and accessories. For many men and women, the ideal dressing room provides a functional and stylish space that can serve as a sanctuary for getting dressed and preparing for the day. At Empire Closets we strive to help you create a personalized space that is tailored to meet your specific needs and wants to best tackle your day!

[artist-kreating-stuff]

I was surprised at how much good reception my Ninjago x Across the Spider Verse crossover fic received, so I decided to make a sequel! And maybe even more, depending on how my brain decides to work on this.

Enjoy part 2!

—————

He feels warm. He feels comfortable. He feels safe.

Miles can’t remember the last time he felt this secure. Even from before he became Spider Man, Brooklyn was never 100% safe. He remembered a few times in his childhood when he woke up to gunshots happening in the streets just outside his window. After he donned the mask, the paranoia only got worse. He always went to bed terrified that he would wake up with one of his arch nemeses pointing a gun or a claw at either his head or his parents.

I guess I’ve never really felt safe, He realized as he snuggled deeper into the soft surface. It’s nice.

Then he turned over on his side and a sharp pain in his shoulder rudely pulled him out of his secure bliss.

He abruptly sat up with a hiss and grabbed for the joint, massaging it until the discomfort subsided. As his senses started to wake up along with his body, he realized that he was feeling something rough beneath his fingertips. It stung, but he gradually opened his eyes to investigate. He took in the blurry sight of his shoulder wrapped in something white, and as his vision cleared, he realized it was a wad of bandages. Not only that, but he dimly noticed that the hand that was rubbing the wad was its normal brown skin color instead of the red and black fabric of his suit. Looking down, he realized that his other hand was also uncovered; the elusive gloves were discovered on a nearby bedside table. Other than that, upon inspection beneath his sheets, the entirety of his Spider Man suit was still attached to his body.

Even his web-slingers were still on his wrists. Whoever had removed his gloves probably thought they were weird pieces of jewelry or something.

After locating his missing clothing pieces, Miles’s gaze started to wander. He found that he was in a small room mostly made of wood, with walls and flooring that almost looked like canvas. The space was lit by morning light from a large window with dark wood panels. Peering outside, Miles found the reason for why he felt so safe:

There were no buildings. Therefore, there was no noise.

All he saw was endless sky.

Miles shrank back from the window and pressed himself further into the admittedly soft mattress, digging his uncovered hand into his hair. “Where am I… how did I get here?” He asked himself softly. He shook his head, trying to recall what had happened to him the night before. He remembered running from his alternate self and Uncle Aaron. He remembered finding a random open portal and diving through it. He remembered emerging on the other side to a world that was still far from the one he had grown up in. He remembered finding a quiet spot on a building where he could sit and think about how his luck had run out.

He remembered the stranger dressed in green.

He remembered being offered a soda that tasted like burnt cherries.

He remembered pouring out his troubles to the stranger, then crying on his shoulder while he held him.

He remembered the stranger telling him that his name was Lloyd Garmadon.

And he also remembered Lloyd telling him that he could help.

He couldn’t recall anything that happened afterwards, though. It was all a black blur. Did I pass out after that? He wondered. That guy said he was a teacher… is this the school he teaches at?

If it was a school, it was a pretty quiet one. Try as he might, he couldn’t hear a single blip of noise from outside or inside the building. It was a nice break from the usual hustle and bustle of Brooklyn, but the silence was quickly turning from peaceful to unsettling.

Regardless of the silence, his Spider Sense was going crazy. Even though he couldn’t hear anything, there were definitely people moving around inside the building. He didn’t know if it was the design of the place that kept sound from reaching him or if they were deliberately trying to be quiet, but either way, it only served to put him on edge. Why are they being so quiet?

His Spider Sense started heightening to a fever pitch. Someone was approaching the door to his room, still somehow without making any noise. Panic started to creep in as the feeling kept growing until he was certain that the person was right outside his door. Lloyd seemed nice, but how many people in this place are like him? He started to bring up a wrist in order to defend himself if need be, his gaze never leaving the doorway. Friend or foe…

The silence was finally broken by the soft sound of the door being slid open. A head slowly poked itself into the room and took a cautious look around. Upon catching sight of him sitting upright in bed, the face broke into a wide smile. “You’re awake!” The person exclaimed.

Before Miles could blink, this newcomer was suddenly right at his bedside, still talking animatedly. “I just came down to check on you, but I didn’t know that you were actually awake - good morning! How ya feeling? This is so exciting - I’ve never met someone from outside of Ninjago before! Well, technically that’s not true, I have. But from what Lloyd tells us, you’re from much farther than any of us have been! I have so many questions - what languages are spoken in your realm? What kinds of food do you have? What’s the weather like? What do the animals look like - are they weird? Is day day and night night where you’re from, or is it the other way around?”

When the new stranger paused for breath, Miles took the opportunity to break in with a weak “Um… hi?”

The stranger blinked before chuckling, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck sheepishly. “Sorry… guess I got a little carried away, huh? Let’s start over.” His hand came down and in front of him in an attempt at a handshake. “Hiiii - I’m Arin!” He explained cheerfully. “And you are?”

Before answering, Miles took in his enthusiastic new fan. He was around the same age as Miles. He had brown skin about a shade or two darker than Miles’ own. He also had a similar style of hair, though his was slightly less sculpted, with curled locks falling over his forehead and ears. He wore a bright orange hoodie with a slightly darker fabric covering his right arm, with a metallic shoulder guard cresting his right shoulder. The front boasted a kickass dragon design with a fanged mouth and bared claws, reaching towards a stylized white X.

But it was his name that took Miles off guard. Arin… one couldn’t tell how it was spelled just by hearing it out loud, but it sounded too close to his uncle’s name. Hearing the name caused some painful memories to resurface - memories he thought he’d pushed down in the months after Uncle Aaron’s death. For a second, he was even sure that he saw his uncle’s face in front of him.

The illusion soon broke, though. This new Arin was still staring at him expectantly, shaking his hand slightly as if he thought Miles had forgotten it was there. He blanched and gave his head a mental smack. This guy isn’t Uncle Aaron - doesn’t even look like him! Get a hold of yourself, man! He finally reached out and took the proffered hand. “I’m Miles.”

“Nice to meet ya, Miles!” Arin told him brightly, shaking his hand with a surprisingly firm grip. “Lloyd told us that we had a guest who’d recently been through a tumble, but he wouldn’t tell us anything more.” His gaze landed on Miles’ wrapped shoulder and his eyes widened. “Wow… I guess he wasn’t kidding about the tumble part, huh? How are you feeling?”

Miles rubbed his shoulder again and grimaced. “A little sore,” He admitted.

“I know what that feels like,” Arin agreed, nodding knowingly. He leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Do you know what always makes me feel better when I’m sore?”

“Painkillers?” Miles guessed. He could really use a few at the moment.

“Pie!” Arin said instead. It was then that Miles noticed that he hadn’t come into his room empty handed. A porcelain plate had been his partner in crime, which he now held up in triumph. On top was a single slice of pie, the crust a golden brown and the filling an interesting array of colors, alternating between cheery yellow, warm brown, and meaty orange.

It smelled heavenly, but Miles blinked at the offering. “…That’s laced with painkillers?” He added to Arin’s statement, half expecting the whole thing to be a joke.

Arin lowered the plate and looked at Miles as if he’d suddenly sprouted two heads. “No! That’s called ‘spiking’!” One of his hands left the plate to position itself against his chest, giving him an air of self-importance. “I will have you know, I am a well-respected baker in these parts - I would never endanger my reputation by deigning to spike one of my pies!”

Miles put up both of his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I kid!” He claimed. Whatever he’d meant to do by coming to this place, it wasn’t making enemies with the very first person he met. Though that does seem to be becoming a trend with me…

Luckily for him, Arin’s smile returned. “So do I,” He revealed slyly. He gently set the plate down on Miles’s covered lap and procured a silver fork from seemingly out of nowhere. “You know, you’re actually came here on a pretty good day,” He went on to explain, placing the fork next to the slice of intriguing pie. “This is my famous Breakfast Pie - I only make it when I have enough energy to get up early in the morning. Which, trust me, around here…” He set a hand on the bedsheets and leaned towards Miles with a dead serious look in his eye. “Is very rare.”

He then stepped back and stared at Miles expectantly. Getting the feeling that he was supposed to start eating the pie, and finding himself unwilling to make yet another enemy in his trip across the multiverse, he readily picked up the fork. The silver points pierced the golden crust, separating a small amount from the rest of the pie. With Arin looking on, he brought the utensil to his mouth and took a cautious bite.

Immediately, his tastebuds came alive with flavor. “Oh my god - what is in this thing?” He asked Arin as he started shoveling forkful after forkful of the divine pastry between his teeth. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until he’d actually put food into his mouth, but now that he’d acknowledged it, he couldn’t stop eating.

“Breakfast!” Arin claimed simply; seeing that his dish was an instant hit, his smile grew even wider until Miles was sure his face would split in half. “I filled it with eggs, sausage, cheese, bacon… oh! And I made the crust using pancake batter!”

The pie was gone in five seconds, allowing Miles to give Arin his full attention. “Impressive! Those things are delicious on their own, but I never would have thought to put them all in a pie.”

“That’s Arin for ya,” A familiar voice came from the still open doorway. Both heads swiveled to find a young man with blonde hair and green eyes standing there, the features glinting almost ethereally in the light from the window. Miles realized that it was the stranger he had met the previous night, Lloyd. Only instead of the baggy hoodie and sweatpants from before he was wearing an ensemble that kind of looked like a green gi from a stylish karate dojo, complete with similar green armor. And unlike his previous appearance, his current apparel showed off a more fit physique.

“Lloyd!” Both boys exclaimed in surprise. “So… martial arts teacher, huh?” Miles asked him, nodding to his outfit.

“You better believe it,” Lloyd confirmed with a sly wink. He walked fully into the room and playfully ruffled Arin’s already messy Afro. “I see you’ve met Arin. He’s our on-site baker, and a pretty good one at that. Give him an ingredient, and he’ll find some way to bake it into a pie.”

“It’s true!” The student in orange agreed enthusiastically, sounding eager to prove his skills. He looked to Miles imploringly. “Go on - give me an ingredient!”

“Oh - uhm…” Miles floundered upon being put on the spot. He searched his pathetically empty brain for a baking ingredient and spat out the first thing that came to mind: “Blueberry?”

Arin pushed air through his lips in a condescending pshaw. “Please - child’s play,” He boasted, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Cinnamon crust, add a little lemon juice to the filling, and the blueberries sing like a sweet songbird. Come on - give me a hard one!”

“We don’t have to do this now,” Lloyd tried to protest gently, but Miles cut him off.

“Nah man, I want to see how far we can take this,” He told the blonde teacher. He set the empty plate on the bedside table and sat up more comfortably in the bed before turning back to Arin. “Apple?”

“Cinnamon all the way, with a slight splash of orange juice to bring out the citrus flavors!” Arin proclaimed confidently, a pointer finger high in the air. “I told you to give me a hard one!”

“Grape?”

“Mix it with sugar and you essentially got a jelly pie!”

“Rhubarb?”

“Same as with the grapes - dunk them in sugar to counterbalance the sourness!”

“Celery?”

“Kind of unconventional, but you can mix cubes of it with peanut butter and raisins to make a kind of ‘Ants on a Log��� style pie!”

“Meat?”

“What kind?”

“Okay! Can we stop this now, please?” Lloyd butted in, placing his hands between the two like a referee. He shot Miles an accusatory glare. “Before Miles here gives you an ingredient that absolutely should not go in a pie?”

Miles snorted and sat back on his hands. “Oh please - I wasn’t going to say anything bad, exactly,” He claimed with a smirk.

“I’d prefer not to find out, thank you,” Lloyd responded drily.

After that little exchange, the blonde teacher sighed and gestured to the edge of the bed. Miles hadn’t even realized that he’d set down a neat pile of clothes while they had been talking. “Anyway, I’d already been coming to your room to give you a change of clothes when Arin here decided to scream to the Monastery that you were awake.”

“I-I wasn’t screaming!” Arin protested, his dark cheeks turning darker from a self-conscious blush. “I was… loudly announcing. There’s a difference!”

“Yeah, the difference being volume - I could hear you from the laundry room!” Lloyd rebutted with a slight laugh. His attitude took a serious turn as he crossed his arms and looked at his student with a frown. “Anyways, are you sure you should be up and around with that ankle?”

Confused, Miles glanced over the edge of the bed. To his surprise, Arin was barefoot and sporting a bright orange nylon ankle brace over his right foot. While it wasn’t obvious that he was in pain, he was favoring most of his weight on his left. Lloyd did say that one of his students got hurt yesterday, He remembered, looking at Arin in a new light.

“Zane said it was only a minor sprain,” Arin assured him, his smile taking a softer edge. “He cleared me for training, as long as it’s not anything too laborious. Seriously, I’m fine.” To provide further proof, he made a show of rocking back and forth on his heels.

Lloyd looked like he was going to protest again, so Miles decided to speak up on the matter. “It’s only a minor sprain, right? I say let him do what he needs to do.” When two pairs of eyes swiveled to meet him, he shrank back. “I mean… if he’s up to it…”

Arin grinned at him appreciatively before turning back to Lloyd. “See? The new guy gets me!” He claimed, waving in Miles’s direction. “I’m fine, really!” Lloyd’s green eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, to which Arin abruptly jutted a finger in his face. “Uh uh uh! You’re outnumbered, mister - can’t say no this time!”

Lloyd swallowed whatever he was about to say and sighed instead. “Fine, just… take it easy today, okay?” He asked, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “If I hear anything from anyone about you being in pain, I’m putting you on the sidelines until that brace comes off completely. Capisce?”

“Capase, dad!” Arin yelled in exhilaration. Bouncing on the balls of his injured and uninjured feet, he grabbed the empty plate from the bedside table and made to exit. Before he did, he turned and gave Miles a grateful bow. “Thank you for helping me plead my case, new guy!” He said cheerfully. He then rushed out the open doorway and rushed down the hall, yelling “HEY GUYS - LLOYD SAID I’M GOOD FOR PRACTICE! AND NO, I AM NOT KIDDING!”

Lloyd watched him go with an expression of fondness. “So, you’ve met one of my students,” He noted briskly. “First impression of my work environment?”

Miles snickered, absently wiping a few stray crumbs from his suit. “If all of your students are like Arin, I think your allies are very lucky, and your enemies are in for an earful if they ever manage to capture him,” He admitted.

Lloyd laughed out loud, making Miles jump. “I’m sure they are, but I doubt they’ll ever catch him,” He said, sounding totally convinced. “Arin’s too good.”

“Sounds impressive,” Miles complimented. He waited a few seconds before addressing the elephant in the room: “So Lloyd… what exactly happened last night?”

Lloyd gave him a surprised side-eye. “You don’t remember anything?” He asked.

“I remember everything up until the point where you…” He trailed off, suddenly aware of how embarrassing what he was about to say was. “Hugged me.”

Lloyd stared at him a few seconds before smirking. “What, embarrassed to say that a complete stranger offered you support in your darkest moments?”

“I-I’m not saying that…” Miles stuttered, digging his fingers into the sheets around him.

Fortunately for him, Lloyd seemed to be as resilient to inadvertent insults as his student, as he laughed once more. “Ah, don’t worry - I’d be a little weirded out too if I was hugged by someone I didn’t know.” He leaned over and pressed his fingers against the bandages on Miles’s shoulder, inspecting it. “Well, after our little heart-to-heart, you kind of passed out on me, so I had to carry you back here to get you checked out. Our medical professional looked you over, and other than a slight concussion and a few scratches on your shoulder, nothing too serious. Though he did bandage you up just to make sure nothing reopens.

“Sorry I put my hands on you without your consent,” Lloyd said jokingly, holding both his hands up in mock surrender as he stepped away from the bandages. “But I had to make sure you were out of danger. Don’t worry.” He spread his arms and gestured to the building around them. “The Monastery of Spinjitzu is about as safest as you can get in these parts.”

“Monastery of… what?” Miles questioned. He was familiar with a few martial arts, but he’d never heard of… what was it again? Spin-jit-zu?

Lloyd laughed again, though not unkindly. “Boy do we have a lot to show you,” He mused.

It was meant in good-nature, though it only served to remind Miles that he might be here for a lot longer than he wanted to be. “So uh… Lloyd… before I passed out…” He began slowly, trying to bring up his case in a way that didn’t seem ungrateful. “I remembered you saying that… you could… you know…”

“Help you?” The blonde teacher finished. When Miles nodded, he gave one in return. “Yup, already on it - our tech experts are trying to find a way to get you home as we speak.”

Good news, but the vision he’d seen of the Spot killing his father echoed in his mind, reminding him what was at stake if he didn’t get home soon. “D-do… do you think they could, um… speed run the process?”

Lloyd looked at him a little more seriously. “It’s a delicate process, so I don’t know how much quicker they can run it,” He informed him. “Any particular reason?”

The vision flashed across his vision once more, making him flinch. “Let’s just say that something really bad will happen if I don’t get home.”

Lloyd stared at him for a second longer before sighing. “I’ll check in with them and see what they can do,” He promised. A finger reached out and tapped the pile of clothes he’d left on the bed. “In the meantime, you can change into these and come meet the others. They’ve been dying to meet you.” With that, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Miles was about to protest that he didn’t need to change clothes, but he raised his arm to his nose to check and nearly took a longer nap. He’d been running around so much, he hadn’t realized how dirty his suit was getting. Now thankful for the clothing change, he reached for the pile and pulled it over to him.

Well, I woke up this morning in a different dimension… maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up back home.

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 8

I had been up since the crack of dawn, already covered in flour and sugar as I prepped for Tony Stark's event. The fact that Tony Stark himself had come into my bakery still felt unreal, but I had to keep it together. There was no room for nerves today. The boxes of pastries and other goodies were packed, labeled, and stacked near the door, ready for transport.

I glanced at the dress hanging in the back of the bakery. It was a soft blush color, something elegant but simple, and definitely not what I'd normally wear. I had brought it to change into for the event, but the thought of showing up looking anything less than my professional self made my heart race. What was I doing, getting involved with these Avengers? My life was flour, family, and keeping everything running smoothly. I hope I can fit into Steve's world as he fit into mine.

Once everything was set to go, I packed the van with help from my crew and drove to the event. When we arrived, the grandeur of the venue hit me. Stark Tower was nothing short of magnificent, modern, sleek, and shining in the city lights. It felt like I had entered another world.

I'd been to fancy events before, but this was something else. As I directed my team to start setting up the tables, arranging the desserts and pastries in perfect rows, the reality of the situation started to sink in. I was catering a high-profile Avengers charity event. For Tony Stark. I tried to push down the rising nerves by focusing on the task at hand, ensuring every display looked perfect.

And then there was Steve. I hadn't seen him yet, but I knew he'd be here. The thought sent a little flutter through my chest that I tried to shake off. He was a distraction, a nice one, but a distraction nonetheless.

Once the setup was mostly done, I wiped my hands on my apron and sighed. It was time to change. I grabbed the dress and made my way to find a spot where I could quickly swap my baking clothes for something more presentable. Just as I stepped out of the catering area, I heard a voice behind me.

"You're not planning on changing in the hallway, are you?"

I turned to see Steve, standing there with his classic grin, hands in his pockets, looking far too relaxed considering the chaos of the event around us. I let out a small laugh. "No, I was hoping to find a quiet spot, but I didn't plan that far ahead."

He raised an eyebrow. "You can use my room. It's quiet, I promise."

I hesitated, feeling the familiar warmth creep up my neck at the idea of stepping into his personal space. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

He nodded, that easy smile still playing on his lips. "Trust me, it's better than the hallway. Come on, I'll show you."

I followed him through the maze of corridors, trying not to let my nerves show. When we reached his room, he opened the door for me and stepped aside, giving me space. "Take your time. I'll be outside if you need anything."

I stepped inside, immediately struck by how... grand everything was. The room wasn't just a room—it was like a suite, modern and sleek, with a view of the city that could take your breath away. The bed was massive, the furniture all dark wood and expensive fabrics, and there were little touches that reminded me just how different his life was from mine. The framed photos on the wall, the crisp, clean design—it was so different from my cozy loft in Brooklyn.

I walked over to the window and stared out for a moment, taking in the cityscape. My mind started wandering, and for the first time, I really let it sink in: Steve Rogers. Captain America. He had been coming to Brooklyn all this time, spending his days at my bakery, acting like it was no big deal. But this—this was his world. A world of luxury, elegance, and a level of fame I could barely wrap my head around.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even hear the door open behind me. Steve stepped in quietly, probably noticing how long I'd been in here. "You okay?" His voice was soft, a little concerned.

I turned to face him, realizing I'd been staring out at the city for who knows how long. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, though it came out a little weaker than I intended. "Just... trying to wrap my head around all of this." I waved a hand, indicating the room, the view, everything.

He crossed the room, standing beside me but keeping enough distance to give me space. "It's not really my style, either, if that helps."

I glanced at him, surprised by the admission. "Really?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's a bit much for me. Stark insisted, though. Says it suits the image." He shrugged, like he wasn't sure what to make of it himself. "But it's just where I live. I don't spend much time here."

I looked at him more closely then, thinking about how often he'd been in Brooklyn, how casually he'd slipped into my life, and how much effort he must have put into making it seem like it wasn't a big deal. My heart did a little flip. "You really go out of your way to visit the bakery, don't you?" I asked, my voice softer now.

He shrugged, but there was a smile in his eyes. "It's not out of the way if it's worth it."

My heart skipped a beat. He wasn't just talking about the pastries, and I knew it. For a moment, I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there, looking at him, feeling the weight of everything he wasn't saying.

"Dani?" His voice pulled me back, and I realized he was standing a little closer now, his blue eyes steady on mine.

"Yeah?" I managed, my breath catching.

"You should probably get changed. Don't want to be late to the event." He grinned, teasing lightly, but his gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Right. Good point." I stepped back, finally remembering the dress I was holding. "I'll be quick."

He nodded and moved toward the door. "Take your time. I'll be out here."

I stood there for a moment, holding the dress in front of me, trying to shake off the nerves. I undressed and slipped into the pretty dress. As I went to zip it up, I realized the zipper was stuck. Typical. I tugged at it, but it wouldn't budge, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

Glancing toward the door, I hesitated. I really didn't want to ask for help, but the thought of being late wasn't appealing either. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door just a crack and peeked out. Steve was still leaning against the wall, looking at his phone.

"Steve?" My voice was soft, a little unsure.

He looked up immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Yeah?"

I bit my lip, feeling a little embarrassed. "Would you... would you mind helping me with this? The zipper's stuck."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Of course." He moved toward me without hesitation, stepping into the room and closing the door. The tension was palpable as he stood in front of me, the air between us suddenly charged with something I hadn't expected.

I turned around, holding my hair up to give him access to the zipper. "It's just... caught on the fabric," I explained, though my voice sounded breathless even to my own ears.

Steve stepped in closer, and I felt his fingers brush against the bare skin of my back as he tried to free the zipper. His touch was warm, and it sent a shiver down my spine. "I see it," he murmured, his voice low, focused.

He gently tugged at the zipper, his fingertips grazing my skin again. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and suddenly, everything in the room felt smaller, closer. My pulse quickened, and I swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than how aware I was of him standing so close behind me.

"There," he said quietly after a moment, finally getting the zipper to move. But instead of stepping back right away, he hesitated, his fingers lingering on the now-closed zipper. "All set."

I turned slightly to look at him over my shoulder, catching his eyes. There was something there—something neither of us had fully acknowledged before now. His gaze was softer than usual, but there was an intensity behind it that made my breath hitch.

"Thanks," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His hand dropped from the zipper, but he didn't step back. Instead, his eyes held mine for a moment longer, and I could feel the electricity between us crackling in the air. It was subtle, but undeniable, and I could tell he felt it too.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice rougher now, like he was holding something back. He took a small step back, giving me space, but the tension still hung between us.

I let my hair fall back over my shoulders, feeling my heart race as I turned to face him fully. "I guess we should get back out there, huh?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes in the same easy way it usually did. "Yeah... we probably should."

As we walked back to the event together, the warmth of his touch still lingered on my skin. The slow burn we'd been dancing around for weeks now felt like it had sparked something much bigger, and I wasn't sure either of us could—or wanted to—ignore it for much longer.

As we stepped out into the charity event, the grand ballroom buzzed with energy. Laughter and soft music filled the air, and a sea of well-dressed guests mingled beneath chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the room. The pastries I had prepared were laid out in a beautifully arranged spread at the center of the food table, and it wasn't long before people started gravitating toward them.

I had changed into my dress after Steve helped with the zipper, but as I looked around at the glamorous crowd, I felt a little out of place. These people were... rich. And not just rich—*rich*. The kind of people who casually dropped names like Cartier and Chanel in conversation, while I was still hoping I didn't drop a mixing bowl during a morning rush.

But seeing how excited everyone was about the pastries gave me a boost of confidence. I could see people whispering to each other as they took their first bites, smiling and nodding as they enjoyed them. It was satisfying, knowing that something I'd worked so hard on was being appreciated.

I noticed Steve watching me from across the room, giving me a subtle smile and a nod of approval before he was swept up by a group of guests, probably asking him about his time as Captain America. I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my chest at the thought of him looking out for me, even here.

I started making my rounds, talking to a few guests who were clearly intrigued by the spread of pastries. A couple of them asked for my business card, and I could feel my confidence building more and more with every compliment.

A man in a sharp tuxedo approached me, champagne glass in hand, with an overly confident smirk that I immediately didn't trust. "You're the baker, right?" he asked, his tone smooth, but with an edge that put me on alert.

"Yes, I am," I replied, keeping my tone polite but detached. "I hope you're enjoying the pastries."

"Oh, they're great," he said, taking a step closer, his eyes lingering on me a little too long. "But I'm more interested in knowing who made them."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, already feeling uncomfortable. "Well, you know now," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. "I'm glad you liked them."

He didn't take the hint. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his smile widening in a way that made my skin crawl. "You know, you should really get out of the kitchen more often. A woman as talented and beautiful as you... you'd do well in this world."

I stiffened, taking a small step back. "Thanks, but I'm fine where I am," I said firmly, hoping he'd drop it.

But he didn't. He reached out, lightly brushing his hand against my arm in what I assumed he thought was a charming gesture. "Come on, don't be shy. I'm just trying to get to know you better."

I was about to tell him off—politely, of course, because I didn't want to make a scene—when a familiar voice cut in.

"Is there a problem over here?"

Steve's voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable firmness behind it. I glanced over to see him standing just a few feet away, his eyes locked on the man in front of me. There was no anger or aggression in his stance—he wasn't looking to cause trouble—but the protective energy radiating off him was unmistakable.

The man took a step back, clearly recognizing Steve. His smirk faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. "No problem at all," he said smoothly, though I could see the hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Just having a conversation."

Steve's eyes didn't leave his. "It didn't sound like a conversation she was interested in having."

The man hesitated, looking between me and Steve, clearly weighing his options. After a long pause, he scoffed and took a step back. "Fine, I'll let you two get back to it," he muttered, before turning and walking away, disappearing into the crowd.

I let out a sigh, feeling my shoulders relax. "Thanks," I said, turning to Steve with a grateful smile. "I didn't want to cause a scene."

"You wouldn't have," Steve said gently, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "But I didn't want him making you uncomfortable either."

I smiled at the way he handled the situation—calm, respectful, and not making it into something bigger than it needed to be. "I appreciate it," I said, feeling the warmth of his presence beside me.

We stood there for a moment, just the two of us, the noise of the party fading into the background. "You're really good at that," I said with a small laugh, breaking the tension. "The whole saving-the-day thing."

He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "Comes with the job."

"Well, you did a great job tonight," I said teasingly. "I'm impressed."

"I'm just glad I could help," he replied, his tone lighter now, but there was something deeper behind his gaze—something that made my heart beat a little faster.

We continued chatting as we walked through the event, both of us subtly gravitating toward each other. As the night went on, more people complimented the pastries, and a few even tried to flirt with me again, but this time, Steve stayed close by, offering his quiet, steady support. There was something reassuring about having him there, knowing that I wasn't alone.

At one point, we ended up near the large windows that overlooked the city, the lights of Manhattan twinkling in the distance. I leaned against the railing, taking it all in, and Steve stood beside me, his presence calm and steady.

"You know," I said after a moment, glancing over at him. "I still can't believe Tony Stark personally invited me to cater this event."

Steve smiled, his gaze following mine as we looked out over the city. "Tony has good taste. And it wasn't just him—you're the best baker in Brooklyn."

I laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. "I don't know about *the best*, but I do my best."

"You're being modest," he said, turning to face me more directly. "I've seen the way people talk about your pastries. You're incredible at what you do."

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks at his words. There was something about the way Steve looked at me that made me feel... seen, in a way that was different from how anyone else looked at me. "Thanks," I said softly, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, we just stood there, the unspoken tension between us hanging in the air. It wasn't uncomfortable, but the feeling was undeniable—

Finally, Steve broke the silence with a small smile. "So, when do I get to try the next batch?"

I laughed, grateful for the shift in conversation. "Well, I'll be back in the bakery tomorrow morning. You know where to find me."

"I do," he said, his voice warm. And as the night went on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something between us was shifting— I don't think I could ignore it much longer.

[fashionablylala]

Fashion Week isn't for the Weak!

What's twice a year and has a bob? That's right, it's fashion week y'all! It's the most hectic time of year for anyone in the fashion industry. From designers, influencers, celebrities, and even people like myself, journalists! This season highlights the fall/winter collections from some of the biggest names in the world, and introduces a few newcomers. Take a stroll down the runway with me as I break down the most memorable moments surrounding Black talent!

First off we have New York, home of Timberland boots and of course my favourite music genre, hip hop. Usually I really love NYFW because some of my favourite designer showcase there, but honestly this season bored me.

Thom Browne had celebrities like Janet Jackson, Queen Latifah, Alton Mason etc dressed head to toe in their brand for the FW24 show.

Along with some gorgeous campaign images all shot by Black photography duo AB+DM (Ahmad Barber and Donté Maurice). I love it when Black creatives are given the opportunity to thrive in their skills on a big platform; their photography is immaculate. Each celebrity was well put together, the styling was perfection.

I very recently learned that Luar was founded by Raul Lopez, a Brooklyn based designer originally from the Dominican Republic. The collection wasn't really my vibe so I'll just be quiet on that subject lol. No shade. In other news, we saw Beyoncé attending his show in support of her nephew Juelz, who debuted on the runway modelling for the brand. Miss Renaissance wore a full silver outfit (of course lol) by Gaurav Gupta. I hated the way it was styled personally, especially with the Luar bag. The handbag felt forced and probably was to some degree, as she was sitting front row as an invited guest that meant she had to wear something from the brand. Her team could have done a better job pairing the accessory with another outfit or choosing a different bag altogether. Also I'm very much over the cowboy hat, but I know she's currently promoting her new country music so I wasn't surprised. I wouldn't call Beyoncé a fashion girlie, but considering she's the biggest star in the world I hope that her glam squad would do a better job. Fix it Jesus.

Beyoncé wearing Gaurav Gupta Couture and Luar bag

LaQuan Smith is probably my most anticipated designer from NYFW, but this season I didn't even see his collection on my feed. I had to search for it, which is unusual for me as it's usually posted all over my timeline with everyone gagging and hyperventilating. I then realised why it was barely posted when I finally saw his collection, because it left me feeling uninspired. It wasn't innovative or exciting, just kind of regular and something that's been done before. This is a fabulous gay Black man who usually CLEARS every time, but this season left me confused. Where was the innovation? Where was the hoochie mama flavour? What was the extra razzle dazzle? It was barely there. It felt like an lazy afterthought and I'm even sad to say that about one of my favourite Black designers. If I compare FW24 to his previous collections you will see exactly what I mean. For example the FW22 collection was opulent, sexy, and vibrant. LaQuan is a true innovator who doesn't follow trends, because he sets them hunny! So I'm not sure what happened this season, but I blame Elon Musk. Somehow it's always his fault, don't question me lmao. I just know that my fav can produce better designs, but I won't let this low key mid collection put me off. I guess we all have bad days right? It wasn't ugly by any means, it just kept the hoochie mama flavour and unusual designs to a minimum. And my beloved friend and fashion partner in crime, keeps telling me that it's now a dying theme to make room for quiet luxury, which had me heartbroken. On a nicer note, the music on the runway however was GREAT! I loved that he used “The Player's Club” snippet as the intro, it's such a classic movie and a staple in Black culture. I would listen to that entire mix daily! It was a beautiful blend of Curtis Mayfield, Baby Tate, Nicki Minaj, Sadé, Missy Elliott and more. Plus with a piano performance by Babyface, who sang Two Occasions by The Deele. That was a very nice touch! I'm gonna need LaQuan to put it on Spotify asap so I can pop my puss 😜

LaQuan Smith FW24

LaQuan Smith FW23

While I was sad that I couldn't get an invite to see my favourite London based designers showcase their talent, I was quickly relieved when I saw what went down the runway. I would have sold my left arm to be at some LFW shows this season, but my disappointment followed from NYFW as I felt unimpressed by the usual showstoppers. Despite that, I quickly felt better once I spotted UK grime legend Skepta at the Burberry show wearing a BLOODY GORGEOUS fur teal coat by the brand. Every time I see that man at fashion week or on a red carpet he looks extremely good. I don't think he gets enough credit for his drip and we need to change that.

Anna Wintour and Skepta at the Burberry show

As I previously mentioned we also occasionally see newcomers during fashion week, and that brings me to introduce Tolu Coker. She's a British Nigerian designer who graduated from Central Saint Martins in 2017, and hasn't taken her foot off the accelerator since! Tolu first showcased her FW19 collection at London fashion week, and she's worked with the likes of Stefflon Don, Burna Boy, Adwoa Aboah and more amazing names.

Her collections are always nothing short of fabulous and full of life. Tolu even had a collab with UGG for the footwear of her FW24 collection, which was definitely a BIG FLEX lol. Making it to Vogue Runway is already a great achievement, but to have a popular loved brand like UGG supporting your collection is very cool. UGG has also been known to collab with Telfar, another incredible Black owned brand. And I'm starting to see a pattern here and I love that for us 🥰

MFW

As we move into Milan, the first collection that comes to mind is Diesel. They had all the Black folks walking hunny! It was like a family reunion lol. We saw names like Alton Mason to Leomie Anderson and so many more! And of course everyone was killing it because that's what we do! 💅🏾 The clothes were fun but still practical, which is expected from Diesel. Leomie had on a gorgeous pink and orange number that was oozing with IT GWORL ENERGY. It was overall a great show. I'm a sucker for a fur coat especially if it's an usual colour, and Diesel was nothing short of that. Besides the weird music announcement thingy lol I have no notes.

Gucci finally produced something I liked after years of mediocre BS designs, but I'm still not buying clothing from a racist brand. I think a lot of people have forgotten why the household name was being boycotted some years ago, so here's a quick reminder…

Y'all can still give them your coins if you want to but I'm not a damn EEDIAT fool. You only need to insult me once. Thank you. Next.

It's now time for Paris! Some of you might know the city for their wonderful pastries, but I know it for some of the most popular fashion houses in the world! Supermodel Anok Yai, didn't walk for Mugler despite her recently being chosen as the face for the brand, and I definitely missed her presence! 😭 However our favourite curvy models Precious Lee and Paloma Elsesser did. I wasn't too excited by the outfits they were wearing, it felt like they gave them the safe options. I see this happening far too often with plus size models and it's frankly getting extremely tiring. It's rare to have bigger bodies on the runway at all, but if we do they're completely covered up. Plus size models are barely visible, we only get 1 or maybe 2 if we're lucky on the runway at a time, because yay tokenism! 🥲

Model and gamer, Paris HK said it perfectly. Bigger bodies deserve so much better. I say this at least 10 times a year smh.

Moving onto better news, my other fav Balmain, was brilliant… but I'm never surprised by that. Olivier Rousteing has been the creative director since 2011, and he's a Black French designer who always knows how to bring life back into the runway. His recent custom looks haven't been giving the same energy and I'm not sure why, but his collections are never a disappointment! He puts his foot in that sh** EVERY TIME! His FW24 show was gorgeous, however he could have came a little harder! His core ideas were based on heritage and his hometown, Bordeaux. His take was elegant and giving grown woman, which makes sense because some designs were inspired by his mother's wardrobe too. We saw lots of different ways he incorporated fruits and shells into perfect pieces of walking art. A few designs felt a tad bit unfinished, and I wasn't a fan of him pairing slouchy Chino style trousers with the corsets. However for the most part Olivier absolutely delivered. I liked his bags too which usually go under the radar. There was so much to enjoy with this collection. Olivier is a brilliant designer, and I always look forward to what he brings to fashion week because he rarely ever disappoints!

Watch the FW24 show here via YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/live/chUl7Gdr41E?si=qpHNziXA66_cOHhr

Off-White also has a Black creative director by the name of Ibrahim Kamara, who is also the Editor-in-Chief of Dazed. I completely loved his collection! Butterflies, pastels, fur, dice, lime green… and everything that makes me happy 😊 it had a New York edge to it and felt like an obvious nod to hip-hop and overall Black culture. It was a nice combination of basketball bags and the matching sneakers, and not to mention the hoochie mama designs, which y'all know that I love! His collection was giving “girly but keep it gangster” and that's definitely a bit of me. At first Ibrahim seemed like he lacked the confidence to really go for it when he debuted his very first collection for Off-White SS23. For those that don't know, he took over as CD when the incredibly talented, Virgil Abloh suddenly passed away in November 2021. Tbh I wasn't moved by Ib’s first collection but since then he's found his footing bit by bit. This season I definitely enjoyed the menswear a lot more than the womenswear unfortunately, which is crazy because the potential was totally there but it seemed like Kamara wanted to keep the girls more edgy. Models like Chanel Iman and Jourdan Dunn were spotted walking in the show, of course they came to f**k sh** up as per usual!

Off-White FW24

My girlfriend in my head aka Precious Lee, walked for the show wearing a trench coat that completely covered her up 🙃 yet again, why do designers always hire plus size models and cover them in excessive amounts of fabric? It's childish, like grow up! I wanna see her titties bouncing like a basketball on a court. Stop playing with me. It's always the same stupidness and as a plus size baddie myself, it truly jars me. The same thing happened last fw season and it needs to stop.

I want to see girls like Precious Lee wearing sexy bodycon dresses or figure hugging clothes that show off her shape, because that's more realistic. That's how I look when I'm wearing my favourite clothes and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. All bodies deserve to be seen regardless of their proportions. Have you seen her body?!?! Why hire someone as delicious as Precious if they're just gonna drape loads of pointless material to hide her magnificent curves??? Don't piss me off.

Precious Lee for Off-White FW24

Precious Lee for Off-White FW23

On a happier note, Halle Bailey and Willow Smith were spotted in front row. It was a nice moment that everyone seemed excited for, including me! I hope we can see a duo from them one day, because not only do they compliment eachother visually but musically that would be an iconic link up.

So fashion week this season was a bit chaotic as always, but in some ways quite impressive. I must always ask though, when will the day come when we see a Black woman occupying the role of creative director of a huge fashion house??? We've seen Pharrell takeover at Louis Vuitton for menswear and several other Black men are in that chair for Balmain, Off-White etc …so when will Black women get the opportunity? Moschino is one of my favourite brands of all time, but their recent decision to hire another white man has left a bad taste in my mouth. They've never had a Black CD and haven't had a female one in over 20 years! I think it's time for a change. Where's Gabriella KJ at? 👀 Or even the CEO of Black owned luxury fashion brand, Hanifa? It's 2024 and Black women are the ones who are buying fashion items THE MOST, but are leading in the big fashion roles THE LEAST. It burns me to my core y'all. It's hard to love fashion whilst witnessing this sh** to be completely honest with you. The only thing that keeps me smiling is seeing people like Tolu Coker being praised, and seeing more Black models on the runway. A win is still a win! So I will take those wins and skip all the way to the very last topic…

Here is my best and the worst of FW24!

BEST:

Susan Liang

Chen Peng

Balmain

Schiaparelli

Richard Quinn

Wiederhoeft

Harris Reed

Diesel

Tolu Coker

Stella McCartney

WORST:

Alexander McQueen

Moschino

Vivienne Westwood

Balenciaga

Louis Vuitton

Miu Miu

Loewe

Blumarine

Well I hope I was able to teach you something about fashion week that you never knew, or maybe you just enjoyed having a little kiki with me 😊 Whichever it was, I wish you all a beautiful start to Spring! And I hope you have your pastel outfits ready, because being afraid of colour is silly. Life is too short to only wear Black, and if it feels like I'm talking to you then I probably am... Fight me 🥰🥰🥰 Plus everybody knows that baby pink looks pretty on darker skin 😉

xoxo LaLa

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

SUMMARY: Robyn and her friends join Jake and his group for some fun in the sun. Also, Robyn is put in a situation where a hidden talent is revealed.

AUTHOR'S REQUEST: Please reblog this chapter if you like it! No author likes it when their work becomes buried. Also, as always, please comment after reading. I value your input.

SONG CREDITS: "Fast Car," by Tracy Chapman

IMAGE CREDITS:

🌟Cast Pictures: Not mine!! Definitely not mine!

🌟Baseball and Glove: cpastrick @ Pixabay

🌟Karaoke Sign: Nikola Duza @ Unsplash

     Simone let out a little sigh as she paused outside the door of a small office in Brooklyn. She knew she was a tad early, but with Frank it was best to be prompt. He was a busy man, and he didn't have time to dawdle. And so, after checking her makeup and making sure her clothes were just so, she opened the door and stepped inside. It was an unusually warm autumn day in New York, and she barely felt the slight breeze that came from a standup fan near the door. She stepped up to the receptionist's desk, not taking the time to smile as the petite woman couldn't be bothered to look up at her.

     "Name," the receptionist greeted, her tone flat.

     "Simone Hughes."

     The receptionist checked the schedule, frowning a bit. "You're early."

     "Yes. I know that." When the other woman finally looked up at her, Simone plastered on a smile; the kind that she usually reserved for restaurant guests when she knew they would be big tippers.

     "I'll let Mr. Kessler know you're here," the brunette stated before she got out of her seat and knocked on the door. "Mr. Kessler, Simone Hughes is here to see you," she said as she opened the door.

     "Send her in."

     Not much of a people person. Are you? Simone thought as she brushed past the receptionist, who returned to her station without giving her so much as a smile. As she entered the office, she was a bit taken aback by the mess. Papers were strewn across the desk, and a filling cabinet drawer was left open. The room, unlike the main office, was a comfortable temperature thanks to the air conditioner in the window.

     Frank Kessler was a man in his 50s with salt and pepper hair, and a handsome face bearing age lines and a scar on his upper lip. Dressed in a white shirt and a pair of blue jeans, he looked nothing like the stereotypical vision of a private investigator.

     "Sorry about the mess. You know how it is." Frank stood up from his seat behind the desk, giving her a warm smile. "It's always good to see you, Simone," he said, gesturing for her to have a seat.

     "And you as well," Simone acknowledged with a smile and a nod. She sat down in one of the leather chairs, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her lap. "How is Jackie?"

     "She's great. Taking over the world one restaurant at a time. She sends her love." Frank returned to his seat, eyeing Simone curiously. "So, who do you want me to investigate?"

     Simone reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded-up printout of the Chic Spaces article covering Robyn's career. After unfolding it, she presented it to Frank. "This woman."

     Frank's eyes quickly scanned the article, and he narrowed his brows in confusion. "Why do you want me to look into a interior designer? She rip you off?"

     Having predicted that Frank would ask her this question, Simone decided to go with the truth. Why not? She had nothing to hide. "No. Let's just say that I'm ... concerned." Frank's right eyebrow shot up in curiosity, and she continued. "Jake has become rather close to this woman. I want to be certain that he won't be hurt."

     Not at all surprised by this, Frank considered Simone's request for a few moments. "All right. I can do this for you. My fee isn't cheap." Simone seemed unconcerned, and Frank grinned. "But seeing as you're a friend, we can work out a payment plan. I should warn you, though. This is going to take some time. Especially since she's not from around these parts."

     Simone gave him a nod. "I'm certain it will be worth the wait."

     Robyn sat in the back of a taxi cab, gently nibbling on her bottom lip as she watched the city pass her by. On her lap was a paper sack, neatly rolled shut to protect its contents. A little flutter formed in her stomach as she realized she was getting closer to her destination. Closer to 22W. Closer to Jake. It had been nearly a week since they'd last seen each other. The driver maneuvered through the city streets, while Robyn's thoughts traveled back to the day Chloe told her about Jake's decision to wait for her. The romantic in her smiled at the thought, but the anxious part of her worried that he would eventually grow tired of waiting. After all, there was no telling how long it would be before she'd be ready to pursue another relationship. What if Jake moved on?

     The cab pulled up to the curb, and Robyn reached for the door handle. "Will you wait for me, please? I won't be long."

     "Anything ya want, doll. It's your money."

     Choosing to ignore that remark, Robyn stepped out of the cab and onto the curb. It had been two months since she'd set her eyes on this place, and she smiled to herself as she took it all in. The outside was decorated for the autumn season, complete with elegantly carved pumpkins and barrels filled with orange and yellow flowers. Through the window, she could see Jake's co-workers in the midst of enjoying Shift Drinks. Nicky was, going by the looks of it, engaging in light banter with Ari. Sasha, Will and Eric were seated a ways down the bar. And then, there was Jake. He stepped up to the bar, dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, a cigarette between his lips. His dark hair was a little messy, and the soft glow of the lights highlighted his features nicely.

     Damn, he looked good!

     She pulled out her cell phone and accessed the text messages, typing a brief message:

     Jake, I'm outside the restaurant.

     - Robyn

     She pressed SEND and then returned her gaze to the man in question. A few seconds later, he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen. He turned his eyes to the window, giving her a smile and ignoring his co-workers' playful teasing as he made his way to the door.

     "Hey," he greeted as he stepped outside. "You doin' all right? I haven't heard from you since --"

     "I'm fine," Robyn assured him with a genuine smile. "I had myself a good cry. Watched my favorite films. Spent time with my girls. Threw out everything that reminds me of Ethan. Except Luna, of course."

     "And how is the famous Luna?" Jake wondered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

     "Missing you, I think." Jake raised a brow and let out a little laugh. "No. Seriously. She never warms up to a person so quickly. I think you have a fan." She held out the paper sack that she was clutching, and he raised his brows as he took it from her. "Your clothes."

     "You mean, you're finished holding them hostage?" Jake teased.

     "Oh, yes. And I assure you that they were well taken care of. I even laundered them for you. But I must warn you, I used lavender-scented dryer sheets. So you may want to let them air out. Unless, of course, you don't mind smelling like flowers." Jake's expression fell flat, and she grinned at him again. "I'm sorry I didn't return them to you earlier, but I've been busy."

     "Clients keeping you on your toes?" Jake inquired, tossing his cigarette to the cement and grinding it out with the toe of his boot.

     Robyn nodded. "Yes. That, and the girls insist on turning ladies' night into something that occurs every other night. They're afraid that I'll fall into a depression and lock myself up in my flat."

     "They're just worried about you," Jake assured her.

     "I know. And I appreciate it. Staying busy does keep my mind off of ... certain things. My employer, Rebecca, walked in on me as I was in the middle of a meltdown. Seems Ethan thought he could charm his way back into my life with flowers, a stuffed bear, and a pathetic apology card. Rebecca caught me as I was about to murder the poor bear. I was this close to cutting it open with a letter opener when she walked in." Jake had to chuckle at this. "She took me out to lunch and demanded an explanation. And she told me something: I can either feel sorry for myself, or I can pick up the pieces, dust myself off ... and discover new things."

     "So which option are you going with?"

     "Option B. As I told you before, I lost who I was when I was with Ethan. It's time that I find myself again, apart from him." She paused for a moment, not certain how he was going to react when he heard this next part. "Apart from any man." She took note of the flicker of disappointment that passed over Jake's face, and she decided to give him some hope. "That's not to say that I'll remain single for the rest of my life. I'm not a nun, and I've no interest in joining a convent. I simply need to focus on learning about myself. Discovering new things; new passions." She gave him a small smile. "I'm even looking into taking a few classes. Dance. Art. Pottery. That sort of thing. Who knows? If I take that pottery class, there may be a handmade bowl or mug in your future."

     Jake's heart warmed at that thought as his gaze turned in the direction of the inside of the restaurant, watching as his co-workers began to file out of the bar. Looking down at Robyn once more, he said "We're going to Home Bar. Join us. Could be fun."

     Robyn considered it for a moment, but shook her head. "I'm a bit done in. I think I'll pass."

     "But I'll see you tomorrow. Right? Will said he invited you."

     "Yes, I will be there," Robyn confirmed with a nod. "And not just because Chloe said that she'd never forgive me if I were a 'no-show'," she added with a smirk. After sharing a brief moment of comfortable silence, she favored him with another smile. "I'd best be off, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

     Jake gave her a nod, watching as she slid into the back of the cab. As the taxi pulled away, he could feel his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of spending time with Robyn. Maybe tomorrow would be even better than he thought.

     Jake and Will were the first to arrive at the baseball field, deciding to play a game of catch before everyone else arrived. As they tossed the ball back and forth, the sun casting long shadows along the ground, their conversation meandered between the upcoming game and the topic of a certain British brunette.

     "So, do you think she'll show?"

     In spite of himself, Jake felt a flutter of anticipation build within him. Keeping his response casual, he shrugged. "Yeah. Why wouldn't she?" Will fell silent for a few seconds, and Jake took note of his friend's expression. "What?"

     "Nothing," was Will's response. When Jake gave him a skeptical look, he relented. "It's just ... what are you doing, Jake?" The bartender furrowed his brow in confusion, and Will elaborated. "With Robyn, I mean."

     Jake narrowed his eyes at his co-worker, refraining from tossing the ball back to the other man. "What are you getting at?"

     Will sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Look, Robyn just went through a bad breakup."

     "I know that, Will. I was there," Jake retorted, his voice laced with irritation. "Your point?"

     "My point is ... she's vulnerable. I just don't want her to get hurt again."

     "And you think I'll hurt her?"

     "Come on, Jake. You know how you are with women. You move from one to the next, and --"

     Jake's glower intensified, his grip on the ball tightening. "It's not like that with Robyn. She's different." He paused for a moment, studying Will closely. "You don't think I care about her. Do you? You think I'm going to fuck her and then leave her." He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as his annoyance turned to anger. "I don't believe this." He took a few steps toward Will, closing the space between them. Standing face to face with his friend, his voice took on a threatening tone. "I don't have to justify myself to you. What Robyn and I do is our business, and you need to stay the fuck out of it."

     Taken aback by the intensity of Jake's anger, Will swallowed hard. Not wanting to start a fight, he simply nodded in response. He wanted to say something in the hopes of diffusing the situation, but the sound of laughter captured their attention. Jake was the one to end their little staring contest, his eyes moving to look at the three women who had just stepped onto the field. Robyn, standing between Sam and Chloe, was the first to pick up on the tension between Will and Jake. She frowned as Jake turned on his heel and made his way to the bleachers, sitting down and snatching up the catcher's mitt.

     Will let out a weary sigh before he turned to the three women, giving them a smile. "Hey, ladies! Glad you could make it!" he called as he jogged up to the group.

     "I wouldn't miss this for the world," Chloe said, just before she shared a lingering kiss with him. "Happy birthday, baby," she murmured.

     "Ugh! Get a room already!" Sam quipped as she rolled her eyes.

     "Hello to you, too, Sam," Will joked as he cuddled with Chloe.

     Robyn glanced at Jake, who seemed to be stewing on the bleachers. As she stepped up to Will, she softly inquired "Is everything all right?" as she eyed Jake once more.

     "It's fine. Nothing serious. We were just debating pitching techniques."

     Robyn nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. Wanting to get to the bottom of it, she wished Will a happy birthday and made her way to the bleachers. Jake was staring out into the field, moving the ball from mitt to hand, his jaw clenched tight.

     "Hello, Jake," Robyn greeted as she approached him.

     Jake's expression relaxed a bit, his jaw unclenching. "Hey."

     Robyn blushed as Jake took in her appearance for the first time since she'd arrived on the field. She wore a simple light grey tank top, a pair of black shorts that showed off her legs, some sneakers, and a New York Mets baseball cap. Her face was free of makeup and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, calling attention to her natural beauty.

     She sat down on the same seat as Jake. Not close enough to touch, but not too far away. She turned her head to look at him, studying his posture and demeanor. He hadn't relaxed much since her arrival, and she couldn't help but be concerned. "Is everything all right between you and Will?"

     With a shrug, he answered "Yeah. Just had a difference of opinion. Are you a fan of the Mets?"

     Robyn grinned. "Yes. I am."

     "Uh-oh. Well, that just may be a deal-breaker," he teased.

     "I take it you're not a fan?"

     Jake shook his head. "Naw. But I'll give you a pass, just this once." He gave her a smile. "I'm glad you made it."

     "So am I. Though I admit I've never played." Jake raised a brow at her, and she chuckled. "You seem surprised. I've watched a few games with Chloe and Sam. So I'm not unaware of what is involved. It's simply that I've never had the opportunity to play. I thought I would wing it."

     "Well," Jake began with a grin as he stood up, "we'd better get started on your first lesson. Pick up a bat and follow me."

     Robyn let out a little laugh and did as she was told, following Jake to the home plate. He positioned himself behind her, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. He knew that what he was planning was, most likely, a very bad idea. Terrible, even. But he simply couldn't resist taking the opportunity to flirt with her. Just because she wasn't ready to pursue a relationship just yet, that didn't mean that he couldn't let her know that he was still an option.

     "First, you need to stand up straight." He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch sending subtle shivers down her spine.

     Trying to ignore what she was feeling, Robyn straightened up a bit. "Like this?"

     His face was close to her own, his breath tickling her ear. A faint blush graced her cheeks as he said "Perfect." He began to move his hands from her shoulders, making sure that one of his thumbs brushed against her skin as he did so. He smirked to himself when he saw the way she was reacting to his touch, listening to the two quiet little gasps that she let out as he rested his hands on her hips. "It's all about balance, Robyn. You need to make sure your feet are in the right spot and your weight is even. Adjust your stance a little."

     Robyn moved her feet a bit, trying to block out the images that barraged her mind. Images that involved being alone with Jake in his apartment, pinned up against a wall with him behind her as he did things to her that made her legs tremble and her heart pound. Off in the distance, she could see Will, Sam and Chloe watching this flirtation. Sam gave her a thumbs up, while Will simply shook his head and exchanged a few words with Chloe before walking away.

     The rest of the players, all of whom were Will's friends and co-workers, arrived on the scene. While most of the group settled for glancing in the direction of Jake and Robyn, Scott could be heard yelling "Are we here to play ball or watch a bad porno?"

     Jake gave Scott the finger. "Sorry about that. He has no filter. Remember?"

     Robyn said nothing, clearing her throat and shaking her head. Like that would erase the erotic thoughts that were bouncing back and forth like ping pong balls? Oh, if only!

     "And last, but not least: the grip. Yours is almost perfect. You just need to overlap your fingers a little more, like this." He reached out and gently adjusted her grip, his fingers brushing against hers and sending a jolt of electricity through the both of them. Jake couldn't help but smile when he saw how his touch affected Robyn, taking notice of the fact that her skin was flushed. "The key is to relax your grip a little," he continued. "You don't want to slow down your swing, so you need to find perfect balance." He stepped away from her, and Robyn felt disappointed by the loss of physical contact. "Now, take a few practice swings. And if it helps, when you're swinging at the ball ... just pretend that it's Ethan's face."

     "I'll keep that in mind," Robyn said with a laugh as she swung the bat a few times. "So tell me something, Jake: how do you know so much about baseball? Were you on a team?"

     "Yes, actually. During my junior year of high school." Robyn stopped what she was doing, only long enough to look at him over her shoulder. "You seem surprised."

     "I am. I didn't realize you were a team player," she answered, just before she went back to taking practice swings.

     He chuckled. "It was all part of the adults' plan to rehabilitate me. I had some aggression that needed to be worked off. Simone insisted that I try out, and so I did. Imagine our surprise when it turned out that I was actually good."

     Robyn stopped swinging when she heard him mention Simone, and she walked next to Jake as they made their way to the bleachers. Tilting her head to the side, she inquired "Her opinion means a great deal to you. Doesn't it?"

     Jake shrugged. "Well, she raised me. I trust her."

     Robyn watched him carefully for a few seconds, an uneasy flutter in her stomach. Something about Simone had her on edge, and she worried about the influence she had on Jake. Though he didn't admit it, Robyn could tell that trying out for the baseball team hadn't been something he truly wanted to do. He'd done it merely to appease Simone, and Robyn couldn't help but wonder about the lengths Jake would go to to please the woman who'd raised him.

     "Jake, I --"

     "All right, people! Time to gather 'round!"

     "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Quit bossing us around, old man!" one of the players called as the group slowly congregated on the field.

     "Have you signed up for Social Security yet?" teased another.

     "Ha, ha! Very funny, guys. I may be 30. But baseball is my game, and I can still kick your ass." Rolling his eyes at the playful murmurs coming from a few of his friends, Will continued. "Okay. First, I want to thank everyone for coming. I know some of you came a long way." He gestured to two of the men. "Mike. Alex."

     Alex grinned. "Why would I pass up a chance to kick your ass?"

     "And besides," Mike began as he eyed Becky, who was standing next to him, "I didn't want to miss out on meeting your New York friends."

     "Hey, can we move this along?" Heather chimed in with a smirk.

     "Yeah! Some of us are still drunk!" Scott added, letting out a belch to emphasise his point.

     "Oh! Is that what that smell is? I thought something died," Sam commented, waving a hand in front of her face.

     "And that's why you're going to be the umpire," Will announced, pointing at Scott. "Less chance of you seeing your breakfast in reverse if you're not running from base to base."

     Scott shrugged. "Fine with me." Eyeing Sam, he added "Gives me a chance to chat this one up."

     "Keep in mind that I'll be armed with a bat, and I won't be afraid to use it," Sam retorted with a roll of her eyes.

     "Armed, gorgeous and dangerous. I like that combination."

     "Oh, please. Like you could handle me."

     Standing between Sam and Scott, Robyn couldn't help but laugh quietly to herself. Should she warn Scott about Sam, or let him find out for himself? Sam had a tempestuous spirit, and it would take a miracle for any man to win her over.

     "All right. Time to pick teams," Will declared. "As always, Jake and I are team captains. And since it's my birthday, I get to pick first."

     "Just don't hog all of the good players this time," Jake remarked with a smirk.

     "Hey. Whose birthday is it?" Will retorted, surveying the group. "Chloe."

     "Big surprise," Sam remarked with a scoff as Chloe moved to stand next to her boyfriend.

     Jake pretended to take his time selecting the first member of his team, acting as though he were considering their speed and skills. Finally, after much fake deliberation, he gave Robyn a nod. "Robyn."

     Just before Robyn moved to stand next to Jake, Sam elbowed her playfully. "Told you he'd pick you."

     Within a matter of minutes, Jake and Will had selected their teammates. Sam, Eric and Heather joined Jake's team. Meanwhile Becky, Alex and Mike were chosen by Will. As the sun beamed down on the baseball diamond, Jake was the first to step up to the plate. Standing next to Robyn, Sam watched with amusement as she noticed the way her friend stared at Jake as he took on the proper batting stance.

     "Look at you. Practically drooling over him," she quietly teased.

     Robyn scoffed. "I am not drooling. I am merely ... observing him. You know, for the purposes of learning."

     "Yeah. Sure. Is that what you call staring at his ass? Learning?" Sam paused for a moment, and then turned her head to the left. "He does have a great ass, though."

     Smirking to herself, Robyn allowed her naughty side to come through. "Mmm. You'll get no argument from me."

     With an air of confidence, Jake swung the bat and made contact with the ball. As the ball soared through the air and Jake raced around the bases, his teammates cheered while the opposition scramble to catch the ball.

     Having heard the friends' conversation, Heather shook her head. "Oh, Lord. Don't tell me Jake's snagged another one," she muttered to herself as Sam shoved Robyn forward, indicating that it was her turn to step up to the plate.

     "Yeah," Eric replied as he took a few practice swings with his bat. "Rumor has it, they were hot and heavy a few months ago."

     Heather lifted a brow. "And he's still interested in her?" she asked with surprise. "I guess some things do change. Back when I was working with him, he bounced around from one woman to the next. I can't tell you how much money I won, betting on whose tail he'd end up chasing."

     Eric and Heather watched as Robyn swung the bat, striking out. "Yeah. Well, must be something about her to keep him interested. It's probably the accent. Some people are into that."

     Robyn could feel her heart pounding as she prepared to swing again, the pressure mounting. She glanced nervously at Will, who stood tall on the pitcher's mound as he wound up for pitch. As the ball hurtled towards her, Robyn instinctively swung her bat. She cursed under her breath as Scott, crouched down behind her, called out "Strike two!"

     "That's all right, Robyn! You got this!" she could hear Sam call out to her.

     Taking in a deep breath, Robyn shook off her disappointment. She adjusted her stance, refocused her gaze on Will, and decided to put Jake's advice into practice. She clenched her jaw as her eyes locked onto the ball, imagining Ethan's face emblazoned on it. The ball flew toward her, and this time her luck changed. She swung her bat, her body moving in perfect harmony with her mind, and struck the ball with a resounding crack that echoed through the air.

     As the ball soared through the field and Jake took the chance to run for home plate, Robyn's heart leapt with joy as she sprinted toward first base. Her teammates cheered her on, their voices becoming background noise as she pushed herself to run faster. When she reached first base, her excitement and pride were evident.

     Two hours later, Robyn shook her head and watched in amusement as a bucket of water was dumped over Will's head. Standing next to Jake, she inquired "Is that how you Americans celebrate a victory? By dumping ice water on each other?"

     Jake chuckled and shrugged. "Well, someone forgot the Gatorade. Guess they had to improvise." He looked over at Robyn, smiling in amusement when he saw the state she was in. Some of her hair had come free from the ponytail, and a layer of dirt practically decorated her from head to toe. "Looked like you had fun out there."

     Robyn took off her baseball cap and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "I did. Though I'm sorry we lost."

     "Don't worry about it."

     They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked across the field, reveling in the breeze that ruffled their hair and cooled them off a bit. As they approached the stairs that led to the locker rooms, Jake came to a sudden stop. When he turned to face her, Robyn's steps came to a halt and she looked up at him curiously.

     "We're going out tonight. You should join us."

     "Home Bar?"

     Jake shook his head. "No. Nightcrawler's in Manhattan. It's this place that Will likes to drag us to every year. This music is shit and the place is a dive."

     "You make the offer sound so tempting," Robyn said sarcastically.

     He let out a little laugh. "Yeah. Well, I'll be there. So ..." And then, dropping his smile and giving her a look that made her heart race, he added "Seriously. You should come. Could be fun."

     She observed him for a few seconds, considering his offer. Although she longed to spend more time with Jake, she knew she had to be careful. Going by the way he touched her during their impromptu batting lesson, combined with the way she reacted to his touch, it was quite clear that their sexual attraction was still high. She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. It seemed that no matter where they were or what they were doing, they were drawn together by some invisible, magnetic force. But she knew that she couldn't afford to jump into another relationship, sexual or romantic, just yet. She had to tread lightly if she wanted to protect herself, as well as Jake. She didn't want to be caught on the rebound. She deserved better than that, and so did he.

     "All right," she relented. "Text me the details, and I'll see you there."

     The moment Robyn saw the neon sign that bore the word KARAOKE, she wanted to retreat into the relative safety of the taxi and go home.

     "Karaoke? Jake said nothing about karaoke," she commented, staring up at the sign in horror.

     Slinging an arm over her friend's shoulder, Sam grinned. "Relax, Rob. So there's karaoke. Big deal."

     "Yeah. You don't have to sing if you don't want to," Chloe assured her.

     "That's what you said the last time we went to a place like this. That was just before you two dragged me onto the stage and practically forced me to sing that Madonna song."

     "Okay. First of all, you could have escaped at any time," Sam pointed out.

     "I tried, but you kept pulling me back!"

     "Second of all, you know you had fun." 

     "I was faking it," Robyn argued.

     "Relax, Rob. It'll be fine," Chloe began. "Just focus on having fun and enjoying yourself. Let your hair down and live a little." As though able to read her reluctant friend's mine, she added "And if you try to make a run for the door, I will make you regret it. This is Will's birthday, and you're not going to ruin it by being a stick in the mud."

     Robyn stared up at the sign again, feeling as though the word "karaoke," was taunting her. "All right. Fine. But don't even think about signing me up for a song. My singing days are over." She pulled the door open and entered the bar first, completely unaware of the mischievous look Sam and Chloe were exchanging behind her back.

     As the three ladies entered the bar, the lively sounds of laughter and music filled the air. The space was dimly lit, adorned with colorful neon lights flashing on the walls. To their right was a long wooden bar that stretched along a wall that hosted an array of shimmering liquor bottles.

     Robyn's gaze wandered across the crowd, catching glimpses of groups of people huddled around tables and sitting in crowded booths. On stage was a woman who was doing her best rendition of Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody, and Robyn cringed every now and then when the performer hit a note that made her voice sound a tad screechy. She would have felt sorry for the woman if not for the fact that she seemed to be enjoying herself, in spite of her lack of singing chops.

     "Oh! There they are!" Chloe said enthusiastically, leading the way to a booth occupied by Will and his group.

     Will, sitting at one end of the booth, immediately got up when he laid eyes on Chloe. "Thanks for coming," he said, giving her a sweet and chaste kiss. "I saved you a seat," he announced, gesturing to the empty space next to Heather.

     "Aww! Thank you. That's so sweet."

     Sasha grinned at Robyn, waving her over. "Come, Kitty Cat. You sit next to me."

     Robyn gave him a small smile as room was made for her, reluctantly taking Sasha up on his offer. It wasn't that she disliked him. She had grown quite fond of him, really. It was simply that she was never truly prepared for his antics, and she often found herself the target of his embarrassing and crass remarks.

     Taking note of the disappointed expression on Robyn's face, Sasha gave her a pat on the leg. "Don't worry, Kitty Cat. Your scratching post comes soon. Baby Jakey always late."

     "And he always leaves us with the tab," Heather remarked with a shake of her head.

     Sam pulled up a chair and straddled it, making herself comfortable. "Where's Scott? Is he at home, licking his wounds?"

     Will gave her a little smile. "He's at work. He doesn't scare easily, but I think he's terrified of you."

     "I warned him about her," Robyn began. "But he just wouldn't listen. Poor man never saw it coming."

     "That's right!" Sam declared. "I am a wild spirit who will be tamed by no man." She craned her head to the left, her eyes settling on the stage in the center of the room. "Be right back. Karaoke is calling my name. You coming, Clo?"

     Chloe gave Sam a nod, and Robyn watched as her friends approached the man in charge of the lineup of performers.

     "You're not going with them?" Will inquired.

     "I'm afraid not. I'm here to observe only."

     "You and Jake have something in common," Heather commented. "The day he gets up on stage and sings will be the day Howard stops fucking his employees."

     "Ah! Speak of the Devil," Sasha said with a smirk, watching as Jake approached the group. "Baby Jakey, late as always."

     "Fuck off, Sasha," Jake retorted, turning around the vacated chair and settling down in it.

     The Russian brought a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "Such language!" he exclaimed before he suddenly reached over and covered Robyn's ears. "And in front of a lady, no less!"

     "Get your hands off of me!" Robyn protested, swatting his hands away.

     "Ooh! Such attitude from the Kitty Cat." Tapping the tip of her nose with his index finger, he grinned at her. "I like it."

     Robyn laughed. "You are so odd."

     "You have no idea, Miss Kitty."

     Robyn shook her head in amusement and then cast a glance in Jake's direction, locking gazes with him as he gave her a smile. Though he wouldn't tell her this, he was happy to see how well she was settling in with his odd collection of friends. He certainly didn't need or want their approval, of course, but he loved seeing her let her hair down and enjoy herself while outside her comfort zone.

     Chloe and Sam returned, each carrying drinks that they'd ordered from the bar. "So I leave my chair for ten minutes, and you think you can take it over?" Sam playfully clicked her tongue at Jake.

     "Never said I was a gentleman." Jake smirked and took a swig from his beer bottle.

     Sam gave him a lopsided smile before she turned her attention to Robyn. "Here, Rob. I ordered your favorite," she announced, holding out a pink fruity drink decorated with an umbrella.

     Once Sam settled down in a chair, Chloe looked around at the group. "Does everyone have a drink? Good. I'd like to propose a toast to Will." She raised her glass, and everyone followed suit. "Will, you may be over the hill and sporting a few grey hairs. But you age like fine wine, and I'm thankful for every moment I spend with you"

     "Aww! That's so sweet," Robyn remarked.

     "Yeah! So sweet, I think I just threw up in my mouth," Ari said with a sarcastic grin.

     "Okay. Let's wrap this up before we all do that," Heather teased. Raising her glass once again, she exclaimed "To Will!"

     "To Will!" the others repeated, clinking their glasses together.

     The two lovebirds leaned toward each other, whispering sweet nothings before they exchanged a kiss. While most of the group erupted into hoots, hollers, and teasing words, Jake remained silent. His eyes were practically glued to Robyn, taking note of the flicker of sadness that crossed her face as she averted her gaze and fiddled with the blue umbrella in her drink.

     When her eyes met Jake's, she gave him a smile that was meant to be reassuring. She knew that she was being selfish; that her happiness for Chloe and Will should override any sadness she felt at the moment. But she couldn't help it. She missed the days when she had someone she could be sweet and romantic with. Just because breaking up with Ethan was the right thing to do, that didn't mean that she wasn't lonely.

     Sensing Jake's concern without him having to voice it, she mouthed "I'll be okay," and then focused on her drink.

     The group's attention was drawn to the stage once more when the announcer's booming voice filled the room. "And now I present to you ... Chloe and Sam!"

     Robyn watched with amusement as the women in question approached the stage with enthusiasm, the crowd erupting into cheers when the introduction to Joan Jett & The Blackhearts' rendition of I Love Rock 'n' Roll boomed over the speakers. She couldn't help but admire their bravery, wondering if there would ever be a day when she'd cast her fears aside and join them on stage.

     Chloe and Sam's voices rang out, clear and confident, as though they had transformed into rock stars. Their eyes sparkled, their bodies moving with fearless abandon as they seemed to feed off of the infectious energy emanating from the crowd. Everyone in the room seemed to be enthralled by the ladies' performance as they tore through the iconic song, and Robyn's smile grew as her friends danced along to the rhythm of the music.

     When the final notes echoed through the bar, the room erupted into applause. Chloe and Sam stepped down from the stage, their faces flushed as they returned to their friends.

     "You two were amazing, as always!" Robyn commented, raising her glass to her friends.

     "Eh. I could do better," Sasha commented with a dismissive wave of his hand.

     "On what planet?" Ari elbowed him in the side, and he whined in an over-dramatic display of pain.

     As the night progressed, Robyn enjoyed herself more and more. But when she caught Chloe and Sam exchanging a few glances, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. She knew her friends well, and she couldn't help but wonder if they were up to something. She chose to brush off her unease, however, assuming it was her paranoia getting the best of her.

     Once again, the announcer's voice blared over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen! Up next we have the radiant, the ravishing ... Robyn Hewitt!!!"

     Robyn, caught in mid-sip, nearly choked on her drink as her eyes became wide with shock. After choking and sputtering for a few seconds, she narrowed her gaze at Chloe and Sam. "What did you do?" she growled.

     "Umm ... Robyn Hewitt? Are you here?" the announcer inquired, standing up on stage as he scanned the crowd.

     "Oh, lighten up!" Sam said before taking a sip of her drink.

     "Yeah. Have fun, Rob. If it helps, we chose your favorite song."

     Her name was called once again, and Robyn's heart skipped a beat as she looked to the other group members for help. Not one of them - not even Will or Jake - rose to the occasion. "You will pay for this," she warned, only half-jokingly.

     "Come on. You know you want to," Sam said with a smirk, sliding two shot glasses of whiskey toward Robyn. "We even bought you some liquid courage. So drink up and then get your British ass up there."

     Once again, Robyn looked to the other group members to rescue her. And once again, she was denied. She thought about it for a moment, considering making a run for the nearest exit. But Sam was right. There was a teeny, tiny part of her that was tired of living in fear. Besides, she'd done things that were far crazier than this. Right? She once went sky diving, for crying out loud! And she was afraid of a little humiliation?

     Heaving out a sigh, Robyn relented. She shook her head and made a sound of disgust, her eyes scrunching shut after downing each shot.

     "Robyn Hewitt, this is your last chance!" the announcer warned.

     "I'm coming!" Robyn bellowed grumpily as she slid out of the booth, stomping her way to the stage.

     "And here she is, ladies and gentlemen. The lovely, the --"

     "Oh, enough," Robyn snapped, her reluctance and displeasure overriding her sense of decorum.

     The man seemed to wilt under her angry gaze, and he called out "Robyn!" before he stepped to the side.

     The crowd clapped as Robyn adjusted the microphone, her hands shaking slightly as she took in a deep breath. The blue and pink lights danced upon her face, bathing her in an almost magical glow that outlined her features. The introduction of a familiar song played through the speakers as Robyn closed her eyes, letting out a few calming breaths and holding onto the mic stand for dear life. The crowd hushed as Robyn sang the first few lines of Tracy Chapman's Fast Car, her voice quivering a little as fear settled over her.

     "Louder!" someone bellowed, making Robyn jump a little.

     "Come on, Rob! You can do it!" Chloe called.

     "Go, Rob!!!" Sam chimed in.

     Robyn opened her eyes for a moment, looking over the crowd and keeping her gaze focused on a random wall. This was a technique she'd taught herself years ago. She found that if she sang to a wall or some other lifeless object, as opposed to a group of people, her nervousness wouldn't be so strong. It seemed to work, and she found herself filled with a strange sense of euphoria.

     Gradually, her voice gained strength and began to weave effortlessly through the melody. Though her voice didn't have the quality of a professional, it was pleasant. And when she felt brave enough to look at an actual person, she found her gaze settling on Jake's face. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he smiled at her, listening to the warmth and soul that emanated from her voice.

     When she reached the chorus and the crowd began to cheer for her, she smiled as her confidence grew. The rest of her performance flew by in a blur, and she couldn't help but feel proud of herself as the crowd applauded and her group cheered her on. She returned to the table, blushing furiously as her friends showered her with praise and cheers. And though Sasha insisted that he could do better, she could tell that even he was impressed.

     Robyn settled down in her seat and watched as the server brought over a tray full of freshly made drinks. Sam raised her shot glass in a toast, and the others followed suit.

     "To Robyn! Kudos to her for removing that stick from her ass and having a good time!"

     "To Robyn!" everyone called, clinking their glasses and bottles together.

     Chloe leaned toward Robyn, giving her a smile. "See? Told you you could sing."

     "Yeah. Well, don't think I'll make it a habit. This is a one-time thing," Robyn retorted, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes drifted over to Jake, who was shaking his head at her. "What?"

     "Nothing. It's just that you surprised me. Again."

     Robyn, quite pleased with herself, sat up a bit straighter. Giving him a proud smile and a wink, she replied "Good. I like keeping you on your toes."

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