#I live and grew up on the California coast

[frobby]

why are anime characters always from or going to California it's not even that cool over here

[love-quinn]

— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away. 

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment. 

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now. 

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state. 

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later. 

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him. 

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride. 

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest. 

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly. 

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible. 

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked. 

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him. 

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point. 

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had. 

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him. 

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face. 

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone. 

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered. 

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought. 

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations. 

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life. 

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it. 

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike. 

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here. 

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love. 

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love. 

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth. 

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :( 

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are. 

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous. 

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all. 

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend. 

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it. 

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders. 

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together).  The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you. 

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you. 

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain. 

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her. 

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment. 

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore. 

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule. 

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do. 

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York. 

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you. 

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails. 

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle.  “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while. 

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder. 

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck. 

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed. 

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny. 

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine. 

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no. 

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike. 

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers. 

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that. 

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend. 

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together. 

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike. 

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him. 

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood. 

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out. 

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted. 

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend. 

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend. 

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it. 

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit. 

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner. 

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash. 

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask. 

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing. 

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him. 

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly. 

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse. 

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves. 

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home. 

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him. 

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself. 

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him. 

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of. 

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face. 

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back. 

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too. 

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend. 

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet. 

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time. 

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple. 

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.” 

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that. 

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her. 

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back. 

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York. 

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though. 

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him. 

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy. 

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to. 

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet. 

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it. 

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period. 

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots. 

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him. 

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not. 

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner. 

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you. 

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are. 

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there. 

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again. 

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne. 

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in. 

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck. 

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with. 

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up. 

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in. 

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

[parkersbliss]

Hi hi!! i love ur writing it’s so comforting like a cup of cocoa! I had this random idea where the reader is like “man i want kisses” referring to the chocolate and keegan’s in the vicinity and is like “Yeah? C’mere” and theyre not rly together but theyre rly close friends who secretly have a thing for each other but they’re both oblivious and keegan just likes throwing teases👉👈

oh my god I love you??? and yes, yes, yes!!! I LOVE MY HUSBAND RAHHH

IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES

PAIRING: KEEGAN RUSS x F!Reader WARNINGS: none, just a bit angsty, passive suicidal thoughts if you squint?? A/N: not sure how this is both fluff and angst guys but I love him

Masterlist | Taglist | Requesting (open for cod!)

Keegan was, in all honesty, a simple kind of guy. There was little to be known about him and little to be revealed. He was quiet and stoic, but not in a rude way. In fact, you’re sure you’ve never met someone as kind and thoughtful as him. The words he didn’t speak were revealed in his actions. So, if he didn’t say that he��thought highly of you, it was obvious in the little nods he gave you during missions. If he didn’t say he cared for you, you could tell by the way he always checked over his shoulder for you. And if he never said I love you, it was certainly questionable by the hand at the small of your back or the lingering looks from across the room. 

Yes, Keegan was a simple kind of guy, but your relationship was not. 

Then again, wouldn’t it be kind of selfish to be concerned about minuscule things like that when you were literally living in a war zone? That’s what you told yourself when his arm slung around you on the couch. It was resting on the sofa, barely touching you, not even pulling you closer but a silent nudge of possessiveness. 

A relationship with Keegan didn’t matter if America was blown up. Again. 

You turn the slightest bit to get a good look at him as he chats idly with Merrick about something. He’s a good friend. 

That’s all. 

They’re talking about food or lack of it — the special things that is. When ODIN struck and destroyed the West Coast, it didn’t leave room for disagreement. There were no family-owned restaurants, local coffee shops, or candy corner stores anymore. People were too busy fighting for their lives or relocating themselves to the East. Not that you ate very well being part of a task force. You ate some MREs when in the field and whatever scraps they had back on base. 

“All this food talk is making me hungry,” Merrick said, pushing himself off the couch. “Y’all want anything?”

“You mean the various dehydrated and freeze-dried things in the pantry?” You asked, referencing the conversation they were just having. 

Merrick laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then pass.”

He walks into the kitchen, leaving you and Keegan on the couch. 

He shifts to face you. “What do you miss most?”

You sigh, thinking back to all the flavors and sensations of good food. The twinge of pineapple lingering in your mouth, the deep umami of a good Japanese soup, the delicate sweetness of a French pastry. ODIN made you yearn deeply for things you had previously overlooked. It wasn’t just food. It was family, friendships, driving down the California coast, and late-night ball games. All of it is irreplaceably gone. Then there was Keegan, who took away all that yearning, that desire from decades ago, and molded it into some long-lasting nostalgia. With him, the only thing you cared for was him against you. A hand on your back, a lingering of lips on your forehead. Forget the food, the people, the things that made human life alive. Keegan did that just fine for you. “I miss a lot of things,” You finally said. 

He nods, fingers drumming against the leather of the sofa. “I miss Chicago deep-dish pizza.”

“That’s really specific.” 

“Yeah,” He agrees. “Well, I grew up there — the suburbs.” He’s got this look in his eyes and you can practically see the memories replaying in his mind. His lip twitches upward slightly, a smile. “It was like a Friday night staple after school. Cruise on over, grab a slice or a whole pie.” 

“I’ve never had it,” You admitted with a shy smile. “Like real authentic deep dish.” 

“Really?” Keegan asked. 

“Yeah. There wasn’t much around me, growing up like restaurants. And it was too much of a hassle to drive into the city for it.” 

His fingers brush your shoulder, tentatively before jerking back. “If we ever make it to the East Coast or something, I’ll find somewhere to take you.” 

“And if I don’t like it?” 

“You will.” 

You go to respond but then Merrick is yelling from the kitchen, asking where the salt is. You push off the couch, feet padding across the tile. “Here,” You said, opening up a cabinet and handing him the shaker. 

He has an embarrassed look on his face, probably just having overlooked it. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” In the corner of your eye, you see it. A familiar brown container of Hershey’s cocoa powder. God, what would you do for chocolate again? Your mind spins with familiar memories that were a lifetime ago now. 

Your family celebrating a birthday with a chocolate cake. Layers of frosting greeted with a soft, pliant, cake that was the perfect blend of cocoa. 

The warm mug of hot cocoa, steaming in your hands as you continue to drink it anyway as your sibling giggles. 

Past Valentine’s Day accompanied by heart boxes of exotic chocolate. The boy didn’t last, but the chocolate did.

The stocking above the fireplace was filled with Hershey's kisses an hour before gifts took place so they wouldn’t melt. A family tradition you had forgotten about. Mind lost to war, torment, and other memories that you didn’t want to hold. 

You turn to see Keegan on the couch, an answer to his previous question finally forming in your head. “Kisses,” You blurted. “I want kisses.” 

Keegan’s brows shoot up. His head tilts, soft black hair falling over his forehead. Were you asking him to help? He wasn’t mad about that, really. Honestly, his heart had probably jumped up 10 beats, his pacemaker cells firing a little faster. He didn’t know what that meant, didn’t want to. He was comfortable with how things were, how you were. Always the girl to cover his six, always the person he’d want to. Perhaps the only person he really trusted. Was it years of friendships or something more that caused that? He wasn’t sure and he didn’t care to go investigating the answer. 

Keegan was simple. He liked your smile, he liked the giggles that would spill from your lips, the way your eyes sparkled and burned with a fire no one could extinguish. He did things that would cause those small instances to happen. So ifgiving you kisses would produce a smile, a giggle, well why not? 

“Okay,” he said slowly. “C’mere then.” 

You don’t. You stand there, lips parted as you try to process his words. There’s a stillness in the room, more prominent than when you were holding a sniper in your hand. Something that’s warning you to back off and yet urging you to step closer. 

Your feet move themselves, eventually, carrying you to the spot next to Keegan. Familiar irises of topaz search yours, a hand on the couch perching on your shoulder. The heat radiates off of it, converting itself into a blossoming warmth in your cheeks. 

He’s not moving forward, you’re not moving back. 

Friends. 

What bullshit that’s always been. 

“The chocolate,” you whispered. “I meant the chocolate.” 

His hand inches closer to your face. “Oh, yeah?” He’s being an asshole, cocky, watching the way your breathing stutters. “We don’t have such luxuries anymore.” 

“I know,” you breathed. 

“Don’t really have much else to offer,” He said, hand coming to your cheek as he swipes across it. 

He’s not talking about chocolate or food. You know what this is truly about. There wasn’t much left for either of you to offer each other. There was no promise to stay together in a war-wrecked world, no guarantee you could wake up the next day, no rings to signify a marriage. 

No chocolate kisses on Valentine’s Day, or expensive vacations for anniversaries. 

All you had was each other. 

“It’s enough,” You assure him, grabbing his other hand. “I don’t need anything else.” 

He inches closer. “And if tomorrow never comes?” 

Tomorrow could be damned if it meant one moment with Keegan. None of it mattered if you had him. If his hand held yours, his lips tasted you, his warmth against your chest. 

You didn’t need tomorrow. 

“All I need is today.” 

His lips solace, safety, refuge on yours. He’s exactly how you imagined he would be. A surge of electricity rushing through you, a spark of life, a reason to keep going. Your other hand grabs his head, pushing him closer. There’s no questioning tomorrow as long as he stays right here. You didn’t need to question anything when your mind was consumed only by Keegan, and his body slotted against your, hands everywhere and nowhere. He’s feverish, kissing you like there is no tomorrow. 

Because, truthfully, there might not be. 

So consider his lips a promise, that if there wasn’t tomorrow, he loved you today. 

Read more, HERE. Never wanna miss a fic? Join HERE.

Keegan Taglist: @trxpslxt

[anghraine]

I love living in Washington—I wasn't born here, but my family moved from Oregon when I was in elementary school and I lived in WA until I was nearly 20 and then moved back seven years ago. So a lot of my life has been spent here and what hasn't been spent here has been in Oregon (mostly) or California (two years of grad school).

Obviously I love the Pacific Northwest and I love the West Coast in general, but nothing reinforces this like seeing the reminder I sent to myself to sign up for health insurance, answering a handful of questions, getting immediately approved by the system and picking a plan, and promptly being informed that I now have health insurance with dental, vision, mental health, etc and that my ridiculously low adjunct hell wages means it costs *checks* $0 (even as autumn makes the PNW more beautiful than usual!).

I know it's a very US American problem to consider. But I grew up on the Canadian border, which meant that when my parents went bankrupt from my childhood medical expenses after I hit their insurance's lifetime cap when I was... like, 12, I was entirely aware that Things Don't Have To Be This Way because I had friends and family acquaintances with Canadian citizenship. And meanwhile I have relatives and friends on the US side who have to incorporate health care so much into calculations about what jobs to take, where to live, what the cost of living really is with a medical condition.

Another guy in my department and I were actually just talking the other day about figuring out possible jobs/cost of living calculations not just from reported numbers for a state or city, but about the importance of calculating cost of living for yourself specifically because of health expenses, difficulties of transportation, etc. Like, people talk a lot about how expensive California is and it definitely is, but for me that was significantly offset by the state paying all my medical expenses despite me not even having California residency. The Portland metro area is expensive, but it is entirely possible to never drive anywhere because of good public transit+walkability.

So anyway ... thanks, Washington State, that is a huge load off my shoulders and it makes voting against right-wing bullshit in WA a pleasure as well as a civic duty <3

[queen-of-the-avengers]

No More Hiding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: minor angst, fluff

Summary: After a night of bonding, you and Bucky start the relationship of your dreams. However, you have to hide it from the one person you really want to tell: your twin brother.

Square Filled: confession in a desperate situation (2023) for @buckybingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

There are ups and downs to living in a different state from the one you grew up in. The second you and your twin brother got enough money to move out, you did. You two did everything together growing up so it made sense to move out when he did. He moved because of his job in the Army while you moved to be with him. Your job is remote so you can work anywhere, so it wasn’t a big deal to pack up your life and follow Steve across the country.

The West Coast is so much more different than the East Coast. Warmer weather, colder oceans, and lots and lots of mountains. It’s a nice change from the snow and the humidity, but there’s nothing like home. Your parents are still living in New York, and as much as you FaceTime them, it’s not the same as being there with them.

It would explain why you feel so homesick. Your mom was just telling you that Shelly, one of her neighbors, found out she was free of cancer so she’s throwing a small party for the neighborhood. You were there when she was diagnosed, and you were often the one to help her with the small tasks when her kids couldn’t be there for her.

You and Steve don’t live together but you do live three blocks away from each other. If you want to, you can see him any time you want. He’s stationed in the state of California, so he gets to go home every night and get some weekends to himself, so you hope he’ll be home. Just seeing Steve makes you feel better, so you start the trek to his apartment.

You opt out of driving there for two reasons. The weather is nice and you can use the walk to clear your head. Plus, it’s not far anyway. You and Steve pop by each other’s place all the time so you’re not worried about interrupting anything he’s doing. If he has something important to do, he texts you just in case you plan on coming over.

You knock on the door when you get to his apartment and wait. When the door opens, it’s not Steve but his best friend, Bucky, who is also in the Army. He got injured so he was granted medical leave to recover.

“Oh, hey. Is Steve home?”

“No, he’s out on a date right now and probably won’t be home until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Realization comes over your face and you scrunch in disgust. “Oh.” You sigh and try to will the tears away. “Okay.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, but I just… I had a really bad day and I’m homesick. I was hoping Steve was here because he makes everything better when I get like this. It’s fine. I can go.”

You turn but Bucky stops you.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not Steve but I am company. Want to come in and watch a movie?”

It beats being alone right now. “Sure. Thank you.”

You walk in and find a home on his comfortable couch while Bucky makes two bags of popcorn. You like all kinds of movies so Bucky puts on a comedy to get your mind off family. Before you know it, the popcorn is gone and the movie is over with.

“Thank you for that, Bucky. I’m feeling a little bit better,” you smile.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I remember when this movie came out in theaters. Steve and I were broke so we broke into the theater and snuck into the movie. We got about halfway through the movie when we were caught, so we booked it out of there so fast before they could call the cops.”

“That sounds like Steve,” Bucky laughs.

“Yeah.” You bite your lower lip and turn to face him. “So, why are you home alone on a Friday night? Where’s your date?”

“Eh, dating isn’t really my scene. I don’t know. The last girl I dated just up and left me without warning. Like she moved away and blocked me on everything. I was never good at the dating stuff, anyway.”

“Yeah, me, too. The last boyfriend I had was so boring. He never did anything spontaneous. I was as good as dead if I stayed in that relationship.”

Bucky looks at the time and chuckles. “Well, we can either watch another movie or I have some board games in my room.”

“Oh, I’m a master at board games.”

“We’ll see about that,” he laughs.

He leaves and comes back with all kinds of board games ranging from Monopoly to Heads Up to Battleship to Uno. You lose track of time until you stretch out your stiff muscles. You look at the time and do a double-take when you see how late it is.

“Holy shit, it’s four in the morning. Wow. Time really does fly when I’m kicking your ass at Uno.” He can’t help but laugh. “I should get home.”

“Did you drive?”

“No, I walked, but it’s fine. I’ll walk back. I don’t mind.” Bucky gets up and he grabs his jacket from the coat hanger on the closet door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.” You open your mouth to protest but he won’t hear about it. “Y/N, it’s four in the morning. I don’t care if you live across the street. You’re not walking out there alone in the middle of the night. Come on.”

Despite making it to Steve’s apartment in thirty minutes, you and Bucky make the walk back in fifty. You two just don’t want this night to end.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I still want a rematch on Battleship.”

You turn to leave but Bucky stops you in your tracks.

“Can I kiss you?”

You turn to him. “What?”

Bucky suddenly grows shy and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I’m not very good at this part but can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you smile.

Bucky takes two strides to you and he’s in your arms. He pulls you in gently by your face and kisses you like you two haven’t seen each other in months. The second you touch, sparks fly. It might be cliche but you’ve never felt a connection like this before. This is where you belong.

Steve is so overprotective of you, so you’re not sure how he will react to you and Bucky starting a relationship together, so you’ve decided to keep it on the down low for right now. A few weeks of stolen kisses and moments go by when Steve and Bucky are home together for the first time in days. Bucky’s injury healed itself so he was able to go back to work with Steve. He isn’t able to do rigorous work so his workload is light right now.

“Just so you know, I’ll be at Erika’s house tonight. We’re getting a hotel that’s attached to a water park,” Steve says once he’s done packing.

“So, you’ll be gone all weekend?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky takes out his phone while Steve’s talking to text you.

Bucky: Steve is out all weekend. Want to come over?

You: Hell yeah. I’ll be over soon.

“Did you hear anything I said, Buck?”

Bucky looks up like a deer in headlights. “What?”

“I said Y/N might be over. She’s been feeling a bit homesick, and I hope you can keep her company. I worry about her.”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“Thanks, Buck. It means a lot. Oh, don’t forget to ask about this summer.”

“Okay.”

Five minutes after Steve leaves, you arrive at their apartment with a bag in hand. You don’t plan on leaving this place until Steve comes back. It’s been days since you’ve seen him and you’re Bucky-deprived. You jump into his arms and kiss him, and he carries you to the couch with ease. Bucky already has a movie playing but you two don’t do much watching.

You’re in his lap making out with him. He runs his hands over your thighs as his lips move over your neck. You pull his face back to yours so you can kiss him properly when you hear an explosion happening on the TV screen.

“You put this movie on so we can watch it,” you giggle against his lips.

“I got distracted by you.” You laugh and slide off his lap. “Hey, I still have to work it out with my job, but Steve and I are planning on taking a week’s vacation on his girlfriend’s yacht in the summer. Want to come?”

“Ooh, fancy. I’d love to.” You pause. “Wait, what about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Come on, you know he’d kill you if he found out we were dating.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. He’s my twin. I’ve never kept secrets from him. He’ll be so mad.”

“Then we don’t go.”

“No, he’s your best friend and you deserve a vacation. Yeah, we’re going to go. It’ll be fun. It’s going to be fine,” you smile and quickly kiss him.

With Bucky and Steve going to work day in and day out, time flies by. Before you know it, the summer is here and you and Bucky have been hiding your relationship from your brother for nearly half a year. Being with Bucky makes you feel alive. He makes you feel good about yourself. He’s spontaneous.

Erika’s family owns two yachts and allowed her to bring a small party onto one of them. She is an experienced sailor but you don’t go far from the docks, only far enough not to bother anyone. She invited a few of her friends and Steve invited you and Bucky. You’ve never been on a boat much less a yacht, and you’re loving every single second of it.

Except for one thing.

Steve is here which means you can’t love Bucky in the way you want to. Bucky is getting pissed that you keep avoiding him whenever Steve is around. All he wants is to love his girl and he can’t do that because you’re scared Steve will kill him.

You sneak downstairs to the kitchen to grab a snack when Bucky comes in.

“This is driving me crazy. We have to tell Steve.”

“Bucky, we’ve been over this.”

“Y/N, it’s been six months. I’m sick of sneaking around.”

He has a point. You’d feel the same if the situation was reversed. Sneaking around was fun at first but now, all it is is a hindrance.

“I guess we can kiss in front of him. If he gets angry, we can say it was a joke or something.” Bucky scoffs, and you drop the knife a little harder than you should have. “What do you want me to do, Bucky?”

“Nothing.”

He turns and leaves, and you feel worse than you already do. After the sun has gone down, everyone is gathered around the small raised firepit. Out of the ten people on board, there are only two couples. Well, three if you weren't so chicken. You’re sitting with one of Erika’s friends half-listening to her talk about her rich-people problems while Bucky is sitting across from you with a beer in hand. Steve is with Erika being all lovey-dovey, and you can see the pot just about to boil over for Bucky.

Erika giggles and Bucky explodes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Bucky says and stands.

“What are you doing?” you ask and stand, too.

“This.”

Bucky storms over to you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses you like how he should have been doing this entire trip. Steve does a double take when he sees his sister and best friend kissing, and he jumps up from his spot.

“Hey!” Steve pulls Bucky off you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“She’s my sister!”

“What is it that I’m doing wrong, Steve? Am I a bad best friend?”

“No--”

“Do I treat women poorly?”

“Well, no, but--”

“Give me one good reason why I can’t be with your sister.”

“What if it ends badly? I’d have to choose between you two.”

“It won’t go wrong.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m in love with her.”

“What?” you ask.

Bucky turns and walks closer to you. “I’m in love with you. Like, I see ourselves having a big white house with a picket fence and five dogs and three horses and chickens and cows and all kinds of animals. I fell in love with you the first time I kissed you. You are my person. Am I yours?”

Everyone is silent as they wait for your response. You smile brightly and try to hide it but it comes out anyway.

“I’m in love with you.”

Bucky pulls you close and kisses you. This time, a round of cheers goes by. You’re done hiding from the world. Bucky is yours and you are his.

“I guess Bucky isn’t a bad choice for a boyfriend,” Steve says when you part.

“I think so, too,” you grin at your boyfriend.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝟔 (𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥)

༻༺༻༺༻༺

༻༺༻༺༻༺

The months after your engagement passed in a joyful blur. Wedding planning wasn’t without its chaos—debates over guest lists, venue hunting, and the endless details—but through it all, you and Drew leaned on each other. Every decision felt like a step closer to the life you’d both dreamed of, a life you were building together with care and intention.

You settled on a small, intimate ceremony on the California coast. The cliffs overlooked the ocean, the waves crashing against the rocks below, the air filled with the scent of salt and blooming wildflowers. It was a day straight out of a dream, but the most magical part wasn’t the venue, the dress, or even the golden sunset—it was the way Drew looked at you as you walked toward him.

His blue eyes shimmered with tears, a smile breaking across his face as if he couldn’t believe this moment was real.

“You look like forever,” he whispered when you reached him, his hands trembling as they took yours.

The ceremony was simple, heartfelt, and perfectly you. When Drew said his vows, his voice broke, and for a moment, he paused, taking a shaky breath as he looked into your eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long, even when I didn’t know how to say it,” he began. “You’re my best friend, my home, my safe place. You make me better, stronger, and braver, and every single day, I thank the universe for bringing you back to me. I promise to love you, choose you, and fight for us—always.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you recited your vows, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “Drew, you’ve always been my greatest what-if, my unfinished sentence. But now, I get to write the rest of my story with you. You’re my partner, my greatest love, and my home. I promise to stand by your side, to celebrate your dreams, and to love you in every moment—big or small—for the rest of our lives.”

When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, Drew kissed you like it was the first and last time, the world falling away until it was just the two of you.

༻༺

Married life felt like an extension of the life you’d already been building together—comfortable, joyful, and full of love. But it also brought new adventures, new dreams, and new lessons.

Drew’s career continued to soar, his new series earning him accolades and opportunities he’d never imagined. You supported him at every premiere, every red carpet, your hand in his as he navigated the world of fame with his characteristic humility.

Your own career flourished in L.A., and for the first time, you felt truly settled. The two of you made time for the little things: late-night walks on the beach, lazy Sunday mornings with coffee and pancakes, and quiet evenings on the couch watching old movies.

One afternoon, as you sat on the patio watching Drew water the lemon tree, you couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” he asked, catching your gaze.

“Just thinking about how happy I am,” you said, your voice soft.

Drew set down the watering can and walked over, crouching in front of you. “You know, I think about that all the time. How lucky I am to have this—to have you.”

He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring. “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

Years passed, and your love only grew stronger. There were challenges—long stretches apart during filming, the pressures of balancing work and family—but you faced them all together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

Eventually, the two of you decided to start a family. It was a new chapter, one filled with sleepless nights, baby giggles, and a love so profound it made your heart ache. Watching Drew as a father—his patience, his joy, the way he lit up every time your child said, “Daddy!”—only deepened your love for him.

Your home became a place of laughter and love, a sanctuary where every corner told a story. The lemon tree in the backyard grew taller, its branches heavy with fruit every summer. You planted a garden, built a swing set, and spent countless evenings watching the sunset, your family by your side.

One night, as you and Drew sat together on the porch, your now toddler fast asleep inside, he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Do you ever think about how crazy life is?” he asked, his voice soft.

You smiled, leaning into him. “All the time. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He nodded, his hand resting on your knee. “Me neither. You’re my best decision, you know that?”

“And you’re mine,” you said, your fingers lacing with his.

༻༺༻༺༻༺

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[fazedlight]

Also... Vancouver is way closer to Ireland in terms of biome compared to southern California.

Given that they were already doing Vancouver doubling (very common) with National City, I don't see why they couldn't do it with Ireland as well.

Wait. Wasn't William Dey british? Did they bury him in National City away from his family? Or did they all transplant to the US?

If they did bury him in the UK, it could have been really cool for Lena (who is IRISH) to be like, hey I'll meet you guys later, and take a side trip to Ireland to visit her childhood home.

[thetypedwriter]

Unlikely Animals Book Review

Unlikely Animals Book Review by Annie Hartnett

This book was so magically cozy. 

Set in a small New Hampshire town where everyone knows everyone (relatable) and ghosts narrate throughout the whole story (less relatable), this book was the pure piece of comfort that I needed in my life. 

A murmuring (gathering) of Starlings is the main focus of Unlikely Animals. Emma, the prodigal daughter, finally returns to the East Coast after years of being in California and avoiding her family.

Clive Starling, Emma’s dad, is dying of an unnamed disease that makes him constantly forget what he is doing and allows him to see ghosts, specifically the ghost of Ernest Harold Baynes, history’s real life Dr. Doolittle. 

Emma’s mother is struggling with her husband's degeneration as well as still coming to terms with the affair he had a few years ago. In the meantime, she’s trying to look after her other child, Emma’s brother who is also a recovering addict, working at the university, and running the historical society. 

While the book sounds simple—and to some degree, it is—it is also profound and beautiful. The Starling family, cracked and fissured, still obviously love each other despite their differences and conflicts of interest.

I didn’t expect much from this book, a book club pick from my high school, but found myself loving it.

While the beginning was slow, the novel stole my heart as the pages continued, bringing me further and further into the lives of this town and the people inhabiting it. 

I adored the small-town feel, how every time Emma left her house she would run into this neighbor or that neighbor, something I’ve experienced a lot living near where I grew up.

I also cherished all the characters. While none of them were perfect—far from it—they all felt distinctly human. They all struggled, loved, and hoped for various things. Nothing about their lives was fantastical, but that’s what it made it so heart-warming to read about. 

Last, the book was hilarious, so much funnier than I expected from a novel where the dad is dying, the brother is an addict, and the mother is absent. Every other scene had me laughing out loud at the absurdity of the situations that the characters got themselves in. 

Recommendation: If you’re looking for a cozy, technically magical realism story, then this book has something for everyone. Cute animals? Check. A loving, albeit dysfunctional family? Check. A Stars-Hollow-esque setting? Check and Check. Read Unlikely Animals and with a nice cup of tea and laugh your worries away. 

Score: 8/10

[problematicsashawaybright]

If you truly loved your child, you would not raise them in orange county, southern california. certainly not a place nicknamed "surf city, USA". I haven't lived in "surf city, USA" in around 7 years, but every single person I meet immediately clocks me as someone who spent their formative years in orange county and los angeles county because despite not living there for over half a decade, my accent is SO strong and SO distinctive and even someone who's never been to the west coast in their life can guess the general zip code of where i grew up as soon as i open my mouth to introduce myself.

[lizzardwitch]

The 750-word fic from the fic wheel but it's over the limit (yet too short to post on Ao3)

(aka I took a dusty WIP and finally decided to finish it)

(also implied steamy stuff at the end but nothing explicit)

The ceiling fan whirred with a vengeance overhead in the balmy room, the cold air it blew providing a great reprieve from the near stifling humidity drifting in from outside. Discarded clothes and blankets were strewn about the floor, shed in an attempt to combat the heat, which now swirled overpoweringly throughout the room. California’s summers were never kind to anyone, especially those unfortunate to live off the coast like the citizens of Ocean Bluff, but the heat waves were a different sort of menace which brought forth a smothering blanket of mugginess straight out of hell. 

Fran lounged on the bed, groaning as she flipped absentmindedly through the book open in front of her. She’d tried to pass the time by completing her annual rereading of Emma (her personal favorite Jane Austen novel), but as her eyes began to roll off the pages, it was clear she was making no considerable progress as her vision became spottier the longer she attempted to make out the words. Growing frustrated with the stickiness of sweat against her skimpy top and pajama shorts, Fran slumped her head forward, hoping to shake off the hair freed from her pigtails that’d since stuck to her neck. 

Mixed in with the ambient white noise, the faint rock ballads drifting from her boyfriend’s earbuds hadn’t helped her already waning concentration, finding herself more engrossed in the lyrics wafting into her ears than the prose on the pages in front of her.

RJ similarly made zero progress in successfully beating the heat, having stripped to his shorts after finding his normally spacious violet T-shirts to be too suffocating in the fury of calidity around him. He wished to drown his uncharacteristically high frustrations in his playlist, not wishing to disturb his girlfriend as she read. However, not even the melodic sensations of electric guitars and drums could erase nor distract him from the persistent beating he was taking from the heat. 

Flopping over to his side, he lazily reached over and began toying with the ends of Fran’s pigtails, hoping to attract his girlfriend’s attention. 

“Yes, Robert?” Fran intoned in a slightly exasperated voice.

“You haven’t flipped a page for 5 minutes.” He teased. “Now I know you like to take your time, but I also know you aren’t that slow a reader.”

“Yeah, thank you for noticing.” Fran snarked. She sighed. “Can’t make any damn progress with this heat.” Closing her book, she rolled over onto RJ’s chest, settling her head above his heart. 

“Thankfully, today’s Sunday. I am not in any mood to work today.” She muttered into his chest.

“Ditto. I think the ovens combined with the heat wave would kill me, and that’s not even counting what the customers would be like, no doubt this thing would rile them up further than usual.” RJ chuckled, bringing a hand up to comb through his girlfriend’s hair.

“Tell me about it.” Fran hummed. “Customer service is the fucking worst.”

Fran revelled in the subsequent silence settling around them, almost as heavy as the heat wave had it not been for the ceiling fan still at it overhead. She sank into the rhythm of RJ’s heart beating in her ear and the feel of his fingers brushing her scalp, hugging her arms tighter around his waist.

Just as RJ was about to doze off, Fran extricated herself from on top of him, a mischievous look across her countenance that he grew to recognize all too well.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, RJ?”

RJ’s eyebrows rose in interest, turning his gaze towards the unfortunately empty drawer. “I am, though the fear of you-know-what is on the horizon given I don’t have one on me.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Fran scoffed. “It’s not like the extra experience we’ve had over the past couple months will hurt should it actually happen.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sifted through the discarded clothing on the ground before her eyes caught a distinct splash of lilac.

“The best part is,” Fran chirped, pulling on her boyfriend's violet t-shirt. “If we did have a baby, it’d have a 50% chance of being either a werewolf or cannibal.”

RJ’s eyebrows scrunched at the comment, shooting her a bemused look as he tilted his head in her direction. “You’re a cannibal?”

“No, silly.” Fran hand-waved away his concern before flopping onto the bed, her voice as lilting and amiable as ever as she placed her knees on either side of his waist. “It skips a generation. We've got nothing to worry about.”

She began to trail a finger down his torso, brown eyes now fully and intently bearing down on him.

RJ closed his eyes. He trusted Fran’s judgment, of course, as he sat back to allow her to do her job. Nothing to worry about at all…

[rjzimmerman]

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Northeast Is Burning. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

The smoke around New York City is back. But don’t blame Canada.

In Vancouver, British Columbia, where I’ve lived for 25 years, we used to blame California and Washington for our occasionally smoky skies. Then in the summer of 2015, Vancouver’s air turned Martian orange, just as the air on the East Coast did last year. Only this time, the fires were ours. It wasn’t just a bad year; something fundamental had changed. Since then, almost every summer has brought red suns at midday, health advisories, broken heat records, anxiety and, when fires get close, real fear: Our old house is a tinderbox. Where would we go?

Red flag warnings in New England indicating fire weather — that is, hot, dry, windy conditions — have been issued repeatedly since late October. These warnings are common in the West, but they are extremely rare in the Northeast, where I grew up and where my base line was established, my notion of what normal weather is. And I can tell you: This isn’t normal. Back in the 1970s, the idea of wildfires along the I-95 corridor in November was simply inconceivable.

This fall, more than 500 wildfires have ignited in New Jersey alone. And in the past two weeks, in parts of Connecticut and Pennsylvania where developments end and wild lands begin, known as the wildland-urban interface, fires have been threatening homes, too. New York City’s fire department responded to 271 brush fires across the five boroughs just in the first two weeks of November. A 5,000-acre fire has been burning for more than a week on the New York-New Jersey border, prompting voluntary evacuation orders on Saturday, after the fire broke through containment lines.

Last month a firefighter was killed and two more were injured by a vehicle while fighting a wildfire in Berlin, Conn. On Nov. 9 an 18-year-old New York State employee was killed fighting a fire in Sterling Forest State Park. Wildfire fighters getting killed? Maybe in Colorado or California. But in the Northeast, hardly ever.

Two weeks ago, a newspaper reporter from Provincetown, Mass., called me. Could the pitch pine and scrub oak forests of Cape Cod burn like the Western forests I described in my book “Fire Weather”?

“Yes,” I told him. “Maybe not in the past, but now they can.”

It felt strange, almost traitorous, to say that, because I’ve been going to the cape since I was a child. I know the smell of those pine needles in summer, the soft crunch of the cones underfoot. The idea of those trees burning never occurred to me before this year.

We are being reminded the hard way that we share this world. Smoke knows no boundaries, and neither does fire. It’s not a Southern problem or a Western problem; it’s our shared reality. This is not just a “bad year.” Globally, 2023 was the hottest year in recorded history, and that record is already being broken. This year is on track to be not only one of the driest autumns in U.S. history since records have been kept but also the first full year in which global temperatures rose 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit) above preindustrial levels. That doesn’t sound like much, but when this kind of elevated heat is prolonged, it stresses natural systems, killing marine creatures and making forests and grasslands more flammable.

[acountrygirlsfun]

Facets of a Diamond

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz || Teen || 35k

Southern California is where Buck has spent the most time since leaving Pennsylvania. Of all the places he’s lived and worked over the last few years, this place is where he decided to stay. It’s why he picked LAFD: to put down some roots. It’s warm, has the ocean, and it’s the opposite coast of his parents. So if he’s going to be here for a while, he thinks he’ll need to make an effort to let people in. * The fic about Buck letting people at the 118 know him, knowing himself and also me fixing canon as I go along.

Even the best laid plans go awry, and Buck will be the first to admit this wasn’t his greatest plan. After getting fired and rehired on the same day, he realizes he might have taken  things a little too far. Buck knew he was getting a little desperate for some attention, but he didn’t know that would lead to a Tinder hookup convincing him to take a ladder engine out for a joyride in the middle of a shift. He’s honestly not sure how his actions helping Sergeant Grant were enough to get him his job back. What he does know is everything he currently needs, (encouragement, support, a little grace, maybe a quick hug if he’s totally honest) he could possibly already have from his coworkers if not for his plan. 

At 26, Buck knows by now that he’s a lot to be around. 

Physically, he’s taller than average, and even though he slimmed down from all the swimming during his time at SEAL training, he’s still pretty broad in the shoulders. But more than that, he knows if he doesn’t rein himself in, he can get a little loud, a little too intense to those around him. He knows it’s at least partly because he grew up feeling invisible in his own house, and he overcompensated for that by being impossible to ignore everywhere else once he finally left his parents behind. 

So the plan to keep this job and make it a career, to finally do something that matters, (to finally be someone that matters, a nasty voice whispers) was to rein it all in. 

Don’t be too loud; don’t overshare; don’t dominate conversation; don’t be needy. 

But as he had packed up his locker, finding out everyone on his shift agreed that he deserved to be fired, he realized he’d perhaps hidden too much. He’d hidden so much that no one knew him enough to even do him the kindness of lying, to even pretend to be on his side of things. 

He doesn’t know where his strategy went wrong - it worked all through SEAL training and at the fire academy. The more he thinks on it though, he recognizes that none of the people from those two experiences are people he could call on for help except maybe one or two. He hadn’t made anything beyond surface friendships with those people at the time. So although it worked to keep people from being annoyed with him, it meant he didn’t make any lasting connections with anyone. 

Southern California is where Buck has spent the most time since leaving Pennsylvania. Of all the places he’s lived and worked over the last few years, this place is where he decided to stay. It’s why he picked LAFD: to put down some roots. It’s warm, has the ocean, and it’s the opposite coast of his parents. So if he’s going to be here for a while, he thinks he’ll need to make an effort to let people in.

Continue on Ao3

[artdcnaldson]

i have soooo much lore in my head surrounding patrick & art and how they grew up… their little quirks… etc…. sigh

i always think of patrick growing up in some giant estate in connecticut or massachusetts (pre!stanford au my beloved……). his family is super powerful. in politics, most likely. idk his dad mayb is a federal prosecutor or something and his brother + cousins + uncles are in politics. running for congress and senate etc. like the kennedys. i also imagine them having like a summer home in the hamptons or mayb deleware or somewhere random. mayb its his grandparents.

art… he’s less figured out for me. i looove midwest art. growing up primarily being raised by his grandma in her little farmhouse. mayb his mom died. his dad is kinda evil. whatevs. i also have thought about like. pacific northwest art. or northern california art. colorado art. nebraska!!!!!!!hmmmmm. i think they’re super catholic….. (catholic trauma midwest art… he’s so ethel cain kinda). this might be kinda unpopular but i think of his family as like. fairly middle class. mayb his mom’s parents were loaded (hence why he goes to boarding school. they pay) but they don’t really talk to him anymore after his mom died…… he lives w his dad’s mom in her modest little house. either a farmhouse or a little craftsman. i put too much thought into this…:(

tashi i haven’t thought about as much but. she’s def giving like socal. or texas!!!!!!!!! i think her family wasn’t like. super poor and struggling. but they weren’t rich. just average middle class.

lots of ppl headcanon the academy as being in florida… so that’s usually what i think about… but. i love the idea of it being somewhere else. california maybe. only bc i’m a firm firm believer in west coast best coast. anyways. sorry for talking your ear off…………….

NEVER EVER apologize to me pookie <3 u are a delight to have in the inbox <3

Why does Pacific Northwest art also make so much sense to me…….. teenage granola art going to national parks and hiking during his summers at home :((( bringing Lily to his favorite trails he used to hike growing up…. Put me down now lord I’m ready !!!!!!!!!!!

[anghraine]

Fellow PNW Tumblr girlie here - people outside the PNW definitely do not understand it at all 😂 I'm from Oregon, not WA, but when traveling on the east coast I've actually had people not know where Oregon is at all 🤦‍♀️ I've resorted to just saying west coast now, bc people will be like oh where are you from and then go 🙂???? when I say Oregon 😂😂

I've forgotten what prompted this, but you're entirely right, lol. It is genuinely a bit incredible to me how little most of the country knows about the PNW (despite all the griping about "coastal elites" not knowing all the nuances of other regional cultures). I almost always have to say I'm from "north of Seattle" to give people even a vague sense of my background (in reality, I grew up over 100 mi north of Seattle, but most people know so little about Washington that they just get blank and confused if I say anything more specific—even "on the Canadian border" is not always illuminating, somehow!).

I definitely feel you about Oregon, as well. My mother's family lives in eastern Oregon, a bunch of my other relatives in central and western Oregon, and I lived in various parts of the state for over ten years, so it's very recognizable to me personally—yet most people I meet away from the PNW seem to have zero familiarity with anything about it except sometimes Portland. Occasionally a conversation arises in which I think about trying to explain how much eastern Oregon is absolutely not the stereotype of the PNW but is still very PNW in some ways, but it would require so much explanation that I usually don't bother.

I remember the first time I really travelled away from the PNW as an adult, when I went to this conference in Florida and met some awesome people. But it was kind of funny because all these people who were mainly from the East Coast were like "you're from Washington? The West Coast? It must be so scary!" while a literal tornado had just struck outside of where we were in Orlando and it tore palm trees up by the roots and nobody seemed particularly perturbed. It turned out the "scary" West Coast thing they were thinking of was earthquakes, which ... uh, don't exactly dominate life in the PNW, lol. I thought for sure it'd be the ever present threat of Rainier melting Seattle or something like that, but no, the West Coast is just California+ to the rest of the country (and "California" is just LA or SF despite how absolutely gargantuan it is).

[andradrawsstuff]

Fourth chapter of my fic ✨

Finally back home so I can continue working on chapter 6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Bienvenidos a Miami

The sound of splashing water and humans’ laughter could be heard for miles. Crystal cyan waters glistened across the stretch of the coast, with skyscrapers towering directly opposite. Palm trees dotted alongside the road, and a mural of umbrellas painted the pearly-white sand a colourful rainbow. Party in the city where the heat is on. Welcome to Miami.

“Hey, boys!” A familiar voice emerged from around the corner. It was Gloria, holding what appeared to be a cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out of the top.

Skipper swung around, flicking his shiny black sunglasses engraved with tiny dolphins on the left rim, bobbing his head and stomping his foot to the beat of Will Smith’s fitting song ‘Miami’. “Hm?”

The penguins were plopped underneath the refreshing shade of a bright red gazebo on the sand, somehow managing to fit half of the locomotive underneath too. It was a miracle they weren’t spotted by the humans, but perhaps them choosing to bunk in a remote area of South Beach was a smart move. They did have to account for the rest of the circus folk and the fact that they were animals though, so they chose to squeeze in a quiet spot between 24th and 26th Street. As for their gargantuan circus tent? Sprawled across a few dozen square metres of greenery. Very discreet.

“What are you guys doing?” Gloria queried. “It’s like, ninety degrees!”

Private jumped in. “We’re fixing the engine! Admittedly, we are melting a little…”

“Aaaand so is the core.” Kowalski butted in. “Ugh, I hate the heat. Its always too clammy, and my inventions keep breaking!”

“You mean more than usual?” Private teased.

Kowalski shot him a disapproving look.

“Pfft, sorry…” He giggled.

The truth is, Private did have a point. Despite Kowalski being one of the smartest birds alive, he sure had a knack for making things that exploded mid-use. He was lucky no such thing happened to the train engine and the core yet. 3 months had passed since its initial installation and trip to California. This was a new record.

“Hey… where’s Rico?” Gloria pondered, noticing his absence.

Skipper pointed towards the cyan sea, sipping from a coconut.

A distant “WOOOOOO!” grew closer, as out of nowhere sprung Rico and Marty straddled on a neon pink surfboard. Marty struggled to control the direction they were being launched in, heading straight for the gazebo. Rico gasped and threw up a pointy rock in front of them, instantly halting the surfboard. The two monochromatic friends were flung into the air, landing on top of the gazebo and bouncing off only to plummet head-first into the sand.

“Well hello to you too.” Gloria sarcastically greeted the duo.

Rico opened his mouth and an avalanche of sand rushed out. “Bleeeergh…”

“Woo!” Marty celebrated. “Now that is something I never thought I’d try!” He raised his hoof in a hi-five position.

Rico burped out the last few grains of sand and slapped his flipper against Marty’s hoof. “Wahoo!”

“Okay boys, you’ve had your fun.” Skipper uttered. “Rico, we need your help.” He chucked over a screwdriver to the adrenaline-pumped penguin. They needed to lock in, or this core that Kowalski impressively hadn’t exploded yet, might just do that.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it, then… I guess.” Added Marty, gesturing to Gloria to join him.

The birds got along surprisingly well with the four ‘hippies’, as Skipper would call them. Over the last year they had the occasion to bond over both mundane and exciting adventured all over the world. The mammals did find the little guys charming and cute, so they grew quite fond of them. Although, they did tend to draw trouble wherever they went. But that was just something that they’d have to live with if they wanted to keep the little guys around.

In what seemed like only a few minutes, the beach was surrounded by darkness, with the crescent moon and neon city lights illuminating the entire coast. But the penguins had little success in fixing the engine, resulting in Kowalski removing the core completely until they managed to cool it down. He placed it in a small sachet that he swung around his shoulders in order to keep it safe. They were headed for the nightlife in the heart of the city. It was Miami after all, what else would they do?

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

obviously there's not an easy way to do this with like capitalism and bigotry and such, but I wish everyone in the US had the option for a sort of home-country study abroad situation, just the ability to spend a couple years living in different areas and different states and seeing what it's like out there

because like I grew up in California suburbs and didn't really spend much time anywhere else until I graduated college. And I love where I grew up, but I was really lacking a lot of perspective and context and understanding of the rest of the country. california has a hell of a superiority complex and there honestly wasn't a lot of a push to go or learn about or empathize with anyone else.

and then in the last two years, moving around for my job, I've lived in the rural southwest, in east coast suburbs, in the urban south. I've gotten crash courses in politics, in cultures, in history, and just how life is lived that I never would have seen in my hometown. I've met so many people, been a part of so many different communities.

I've met the kindest and most genuine people from brash and loud east coast cultures. I've found the most welcoming queer community I've ever been a part of in the south. I've worked with folks in the desert who live totally off the grid, who have to drive into town for water and can only get the news from their radio. I've also worked in urban sprawls with coworkers who've experienced homelessness in a big city.

and the people I meet and work with bring their learned experiences as well! I went to a potluck of midwestern delicacies thousands of miles from their origins, I've been lectured on grassroots politics in Florida by an enthusiastic intern on the east coast, I've been regaled with stories from a coworker who's lived in thirteen states in the last fifteen years. and I've learned so much.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Tomorrow I hit the road again, moving to my fifth state in the last two years, and I'm feeling nostalgic and also hopeful for the future. I guess I'm hoping that I never lose this feeling, this awe and respect for what I am experiencing and who I have the chance to learn from. And I really, really hope that other people have the chance to learn like this too.