#and you gotta internally be like 'oh right i missed friday because i ordered a smoothie and they accidentally put pineapple in'

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

y'know, i'm super bad at being stealth given that i'm one of the manliest dudes i know and cis people are generally super oblivious

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

It’s a cray cray Friday when Vietnam gets its eng subs up before GMMTV Thailand. What alter-reality are we in? Well, the Vietnamese offerings are better right now anyway. (Oooo, feel that burn.) 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Top Secret Together Ep 2 - pulping it up in the best possible way. Sure sound and production values are pants, and in classic Thai fashion the editing in post is exacerbating (rather than fixing) pacing issues, but it’s still CUTE AF. I don’t even mind the added university storyline, because they’ve got good chemistry (and a confident gay fresher after a panicked gay hazer is an old favorite... what can I say, SOTUS was my first love). We aren’t spending too much time with any one couple, so it’s weighted a lot better than Brothers was, but also character development is slow. 

Siew Sum Noi Ep 2 - Unfortunately, it’s just too hard to find, plus no subs. I’m dropping it in the hopes it comes back on my radar some day. 

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) It’s rough having a ghost boyfriend, half your friends are scared, the other half think you’re crazy, and kissing shortens your lifespan. This was a cute couple even if I wasn’t wild about the surrounding story. 

Close Friend Ep 5: (Dear My Star/JimmyTommy) - about high school penpals. It had to rely entirely on voice over work as the actors only meet face to face at the end. It’s a good thing they are appealing screen presences on their own, with good vocal control. It’s hard to imagine any other BL pair carrying this kinda plot. It’s by far my favorite of the series so far, and I’m not even a big JimmyTommy fan. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 7 - no subs. Do we care? Not really. Because we have... 

Nitiman Ep 3 - currently my favorite out of Thailand. It’s the university Thai BL i’ve been waiting for since... when was the last good one? My Engineer? Yowza. Anyway we got: head on my shoulder, baby is a floppy drunk (but still wants to be in control), proximity alert, boyfriend’s closet, seme gets seriously jelly, and a cute twist on feeding him. There’s something fun and complex about Jin’s character. He’s not a panicked bi. He knows exactly what’s going on, he just hasn’t decided if he wants Bb or not. He clearly enjoys being looked after, the compliments, and the attention, but he’s not sure if he’s going to like what happens if he gives in. I like that twist on the usual tsundere uke archetype a lot, cautious rather than willfully obtuse or freaked out. We can see Jin realizing in stages: I like this person, I like that they like me, I like the romantic attentiveness. But in the background is... do I actually want to f*k him? It’s a dynamic we don’t often see on BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 10 fin - the most ridiculous show using BLs worst tropes in a sort of weird smoothie of bitter greens and too ripe banana. The ending was the sappiest cheesiest thing ever, like cheese syrup tapped from the cheese tree. So of course I loved it, but I’m pretty sure I giggled through all the bits meant to be profound. Because, in the end, to tolerate this show at all, you just can’t take ANY of it seriously. RECOMMENDED (with some SERIOUS reservations and trigger warnings.) Full review here. 

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 1-2 - I don’t mind a damaged seme character but this one is a bit weird for me. Like creepy Cheese in the Trap level weird. On the bright side, the story has given our tsundere uke good motivation for his angst and great existing friendships, loyalty, and likability. Plus I’m invested in the cafe owner/innocent puppy side dishes. So if it’s only the seme character I’m not jiving with, and he’s the most established actor, it should all turn out fine. I believe in you, Taiwanese BL. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 6 fin - speaking of belief. This such a good show but they gave us a cliffhanger ending. Now we must hope against hope for season two. That’s never guaranteed with Taiwan tho. So, I’m docking a few points and saying, RECOMMENDED so long as you realize it’s a cliffhanger. 

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 1-9 (BL subplot) - this is a good het romance, but the fact that the BL subplot is a beautifully acted disaster bi + confident gay means you’re hearing about it whether you want to or not. Plus they just added in some GL! Come on! I gotta support Taiwan normalizing queer to this extent. They are fighting the good fight and if I also have to watch a career lady and her much younger softest straight boi get it on, too? Twist my arm with that service sub subtext. Go on Taiwan, TWIST IT. It’s on Viki. Join the revolution.   * Incidentally if you actually like the D/s het dynamic of this show, I highly recommend Japanese Kimi wa Petto - career woman keeps a hot young dancer boy as a pet. Oh yes, an actual pet, that IS the pitch. Never doubt Japan when kink is on the line. It’s also on Viki. Go get your kink on, thank me later. (If it helps: That was not a request.)  

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 2 (AKA 5) - love triangles aren’t my thing, but if you’re gonna do it short form, by all means bring in the lead’s other BL pairing so the chemistry is on point. Now I've no idea who I want him to end up with. Can’t they just be in a poly triad? 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 7 - I’m still enjoying it a lot. It’s still unabashedly queer and the tension is ramping up. We now have secret identity, blackmail, femme fatale, faen fatale, and incoming seme confrontation. Best of all, the series is still airing, which makes it longer than any other Vietnamese BL I’ve seen (aside from Tein Bromance - which is just too weird to count). 

Gossip - Thai BL 

SEVEN PROJECT TEASERS

No one is entirely sure what Studio Wabi Sabi’s Seven Project/7Project will entail. 

It might be like Close Friend (1 episode per couple, no linking), 

or Y-Destiny (2 episodes per couple, loosely linked), 

or The En of Love (4 episodes per couple, linked but independent consecutive stories). 

They’re giving the couple’s arcs separate titles. So each one would be what? Seven Project: Once Upon a Time or the like? We’re in Taiwanese title territory people and NO ONE WANTS TO GO THERE. Anygay... 

Once Upon a Time is the BounPrem (og UWMA) anchor story, and seems to be the most dramatic and likely saddest. These two can handle most of what’s thrown at them at this juncture, so it should be good. 

Vs Love is a BoomPeak (og Make it Right) university vehicle. Since I thought Boom was done with our nonsense, I couldn’t be more thrilled and surprised this pair is doing another show together. I don’t think either of them are the greatest actors but I find Peak very endearing and Boom charismatic on screen, so I’ll watch. 

Would You be My Love is the hotly anticipated SantaEarth launch. They’re a (cultivated) IRL ship and Earth is an established BL actor. They have great chemistry and high energy so this could be lots of fun. 

We are also getting a GL from this series from established BL actresses Samantha and Pineare. Nothing teased yet on that, but I’m looking forward to this installment the most. Also curious to see how the ladies handle the branding and promo side, not to mention the culture. (Thailand variety shows gonna force *girls* to play the Pepero game?) 

Secret Crush on You upcoming Thai BL with no release date, co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with all fresh faces. (Previously known as Stalker the series.) It looks like pure pulp and I’m not wild about the plot but could be better than expected as it’s adapted from a novel. Cheewin is an okay director when he has an actual story to follow. 

Don’t Say No the series. Coming from the producers of TharnType this is the JaFirst vehicle many have been waiting for. Friends to lovers + a good boy/bad boy pairing on a sports romance foundation. It’s basketball so they tapped Meen as well (he’s semi-pro). The bad news? You get one guess as to who is writing the darn thing? Yep it’s MAME. So, ya know, expect some slam dunk kidnapping, a light dribbling of rape, and me turning into a basketcase. AKA... 

Will I have to live blog this series in order to survive it? That seems to be the only way I can. So probably. Which means the bad sports puns will continue. Look, if I’m suffering, SO ARE YOU! 

Rumors of a new YinWar vehicle The Best Story (mini series) coming in July. Also rumors that their previously announced Love Mechanics (full length series) has either been delayed, is facing money issues, or is moving studios, or all three. 

Breaking News 

DELAYED (I’m talking these three off the watch list until we get new airing dates) 

Love Area’s release was pushed out but it got a trailer. 

Golden Blood was supposed to drop Weds but comments in MDL report that it is delayed due to C19.  

Love’s Outlet (Taiwan) is supposed to have started a 50 episode run (only 3-5 min each, what utter nonsense). Sadly, this delay is due to a surge in cases in Taiwan which was doing so well, but also doesn’t have many inoculations. 

Bad Buddy has started workshopping at GMMTV actual. 

Kang Insoo’s BTS for Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding is SO FLIPPING CUTE. You have to watch it. Trust me, I don’t rec behind the scenes stuff often. 

Next Week Looks Like This: 

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[insomniamamma]

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris  Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language.  Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

           "You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns.           "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes.           "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him.           "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average."           "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes.           "I know, I know--"           "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison.           "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life.           "Have fun, guys," she says.

         Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple.          "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face.          "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?"          "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?"          "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects."          "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?"          "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say.          "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine."          "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees.          "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you.          "Why?"          "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands.          "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn.          "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

         Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury.          At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him.          "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end.          "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly."          "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling.          "You ever seen this next movie?"          "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind."          "Oh boy," you laugh.          "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing  or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is."          "You know she set us up, right?"          "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker."          "She winked at me." Ezra dimples.          "Did she now?"          "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other.          "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together."          "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

         "Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?"          "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us."          "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now."          "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated."          "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt.          "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch--          Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window.          "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming.          "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified.          "I'm sorry, I just--"          "Get us out of here, Ez."

         You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter.          "What's so funny?"          "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers."          "You're laughing because we got caught?"          "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles.          "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra.          "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke.          "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze.          "Better late than never."          "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [7]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself busy.

Note: I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided... You were overly alert and entirely uncertain. 

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, how would you even pick him out? You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has-- Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. A lot.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

“I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because...you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet. 

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself. 

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn't mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big--”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need--”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t--”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant--” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk. 

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 3

A/N - Just a small update, im sorry if its bad but it was written after 2hrs sleep! 😂💕💕

It was finally Friday! I had finished my shift at the coffee shop and collected Mason from preschool. He was telling me all about his day happily chatting away as i drove us home, It was only a ten minute drive from the preschool so we were soon parking up out front.

"So what do you want for dinner tonight bud?" I asked as we walked from the car to the front door.

"Pizza!!"

"Pizza? Really?"

"Pleaseeee mom?"

"Fine!" I chuckled shaking my head at how happy he looked, the boy loved his pizza, and how could i say no to that face!

"Hey neighbours!"

I rolled my eyes and internally cursed at the voice of my next door neighbour Brian. The guy honestly creeped me out, Hannah was convinced he had a thing for me, the thought alone made my stomach turn!

"Hey Brian" i gave him tight lipped smile to be polite but carried on toward the house, i just wanted to get me and Mason inside.

"How are my favourite neighbours?"

"We're fine, thank you"

"So um...Y/N, a few of us are getting together tomorrow for a BBQ.... you and Mason should come"

"Sorry Brian, we have plans with some friends tomorrow" i lied, there was no way in hell i'd accept an invitation from him.

"Oh ok, no problem. Maybe some other time...?"

"I gotta get inside and sort out dinner, Mason's hungry. Have a nice time at your BBQ" i said quickly as i unlocked the door getting Mason inside first, i rushed in behind him huffing out a sigh of relief that i was away from Brian.

Mason was sitting down on the sofa watching a show about space and eating some fruit while i cleaned up a little in the living room and kitchen, i was running late this morning so didn't have time to do it until now. I had decided i'd order the pizza around 5pm being as Mason tended to stay up later on a Friday night. Just as i was finishing up in the kitchen my cell started ringing, i already knew it would be Hannah she called around this time most days.

"Hey"

"Hey, so im thinking we need to go out"

"Okayyyy random" i chuckled wiping down the counter and tossing the dishcloth on the side "why?"

"Because we both need to find a man!

Y/N we deserve some fun!"

"Things with Damien didnt work out i take it?"

"No, his a jackass! Come on please? Next week?? My mom already said she'd watch the boys"

"I don't know Han, you know i don't really date....i definitely don't hook up"

"But maybe you'll meet someone nice who you can get to know and eventually it could lead to something.... you dont have to hook up with anyone. We just need a girls night out, a night where we're just Y/N and Hannah and not mom"

"Can i think about it?"

"Sure! As long as your answer is YES!"

She said loudly making us both laugh.

"Fine! I'll go out if it makes you happy"

"Oh my god we're gonna have so much fun!!"

"I don't know about that! The last time we went out drinking together we were in a bar fight because you made out with some girls boyfriend!"

"Haha good times! How was i to know he had a girlfriend?"

"Your trouble Han" i shook my head thinking back at how wild she was before becoming a mom. We soon said our goodbyes and i went to join Mason on the sofa while i ordered our pizza.

Just as i was about to lock my phone once i was done i noticed the little notification on my messages indicating that i had a new message.

Unknown: Hey Y/N, its Chris.

Can we talk?

Y/N: About what??

Chris: I was hoping maybe we could talk in person....

Y/N: I don't think thats a good idea Chris.

Chris: oh.... well this is kinda awkward.... im outside

Are you fucking kidding me?!!

I said loudly in my head as i got up and went over to the window. There he was sitting in his car parked behind mine on the drive looking down at the phone in his hands, probably waiting for my reply.

"Mace? Im just going out to the car bud i wont be long okay?"

"Uh huh" he replied without even looking away from the TV.

As soon as i opened the front door Chris's car door opened and he got out quickly giving me a nervous smile.

"Thank you for coming to talk to me"

"What are you doing here Chris?" I asked as i looked through the front window making sure i could keep an eye on Mason.

"I wanted to apologise, for how i treated you, how i ended what we had.... i know i was a huge asshole. I just want you to know that im nothing like that guy anymore...."

"Thats great Chris, really. Because that guy was a careless, selfish son of a bitch"

"I know" he nodded sadly "i wish i could go back and make better choices. Take back the things i said to you.... Y/N the biggest regret of my life is that i lost you. You were my best friend.... my wife...." he shook his head "i didn't know what i had until you were gone"

"You couldn't have missed me that much" i scoffed "its taken you almost 6 years to come see me, i haven't heard from you once in all that time"

"I was ashamed of myself"

"Ok" i nodded "well thanks for coming by to clear that up but i have to go..."

"Scott told me" Chris called from behind me as i headed back inside "about Mason" he added, i froze on the spot feeling my heart start to race at hearing those words.

"He what??!" I spun around to face him with wide eyes, i was internally cursing Scott to hell!

He told Chris about Mason???

"He told me he came to see you, found out you have a son...."

"what is it with you two just showing up at my house unannounced and uninvited??"

"I knew if i asked to come see you you'd say no"

"You're right i would. It doesn't change anything just because you know about Mason"

"I know i just...." he shook his head as he searched for the right thing to say.

"You don't need to feel guilty, like you have to be here now you know, we've managed fine without you for this long"

"What?.... what do you mean by that?"

He asked taking a few steps towards me, it was at that moment i realised he didn't know Mason was his son.... shit!

"Y/N.... is Mason my son??" Chris asked as his chest heaved from how heavy he was suddenly breathing as he processed this new information.

"I thought... you... you said Scott told you all about Mason...."

As if on cue the front door opened and Mason appeared holding my ringing cell phone. I heard a gasp escape Chris's mouth as he looked down at Mason, at the little boy who was a spitting image of him.

"Mom your phone keeps ringing" he said holding my cell phone out to me.

"Thank you baby" i quickly looked to see it was my mom calling and sent it to voicemail, i'd call her later.

"You wanna come inside? I guess we need to talk" i said looking back at Chris who was stood with tears in his eyes, he nodded quickly not taking his eyes off of Mason and followed us inside.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @katiew1973 @denisemarieangelina @mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax (if your name is crossed out it wouldnt let me tag you 😞).

[goth-girlfriend]

Endeavor’s Intern

(4/?)

Pairing: Endeavor/Enji Todoroki x Student Reader

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: none?

Notes: Spelling errors? I was going to finish it with this part but decided I’d like to add a bit more before I finish.

💙❤️🖤❤️💙🖤💙❤️🖤❤️💙🖤💙❤️🖤❤️💙

“SHOTO!” I jumped onto his back and clung to him. His hands grabbed my thighs to keep me from falling off his back.

Deku looking shocked, his eyes wide.

“ARE YOU TWO DATING?!” Denki stepped into ask.

I laughed as Shoto seemed unamused, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my chin on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” I asked and tilted my head.

“Yes?” Denki asked instead of answering.

“...........ok.” I shrugged and moved upwards and tried to get higher.

“So, let’s get to class.” I said still cling to Shoto.

He sighed and started to walk, Deku fell into step on our left, Denki to our right. He was curious that’s for sure.

“Also no, it’s not Shoto I’m dating. He’s just the bestest friend in the whole world!” I squeezed him.

He sighed and bounced to get me higher. Denki didn’t seem impressed or like he believe it.

“So winter break comes up next week. What are you going to be doing?” I asked.

“Spending it with my step mom.” He said keeping a straight face.

“Awe, that’s sweet. I like her, she’s sweet and pretty.” I smiled at him.

“Yeah, Dad never stops talking about her.” He looked back at me.

“Anyways, what about you guys?” I asked the other two.

“I’ll be him with my mom.” Deku answered.

“I’ll be with the fam, you know how it is.” Denki said and sighed with a smile.

“That’s sweet.” I said, we finally stopped at the class door.

“Oof, such a short walk.” I mumbled.

“Because you weren’t walking.” Shoto said rolled his eyes.

“Hehe,” I smield and opened the door, “What are we waiting for?”

We entered the class only three of four people were here. I made my wya to my seat and took a deep breath and sighed. Deku and Denki went to their seats and I was lucky to be beside Shoto.

“So where are we going?” I asked and tilted my head.

“I don’t know, he said it was a surprise. My brother and sister don’t know. I think they would freak out if they figure out his second girlfriend is the same age as his last child.” Shoto whispered back.

“Yeah, So it’s just you me and the big guy?” I asked, I paused and thought, “and Deku?” I I nodded in his direction.

“I was going to ask him until Kaminari showed up. I was just lucky you showed up to break the silence.” He was so serious.

“Oh, well, tomorrow is Friday. Do it then or you never will.” I sighed and pat his shoulder.

“Now I’m cold soooooo,” I slid closer to Shoto and hugged his left arm.

“You’re so warm.” I pressed my cheek into his shoulder, “So warm.”

A lot of people rushed in started to take seats just as the bell rang.

“Everyone shut up and sit down.” I smield At Aizawa as I moved to my desk.

It’s gotta be a struggle being a pro hero and a teacher. Especially with this class.

“Alright, as a reward for how good most of you have been doing and have grown. We’re going to be having a party.” Cheers erupted.

“SHUT UP BEFORE I CANCEL IT.” Everyone stopped.

“It’s nothing fancy, just our class. Today is our last day before break starts. We’re going to run a quick test like on the first day of school to see how much your control over your quirk and skills have improved. So get out of here and go get dressed.” He sighed and pulled out a juice pouch.

“Atleast it’s not a test.” I mumbled and stood up lingering at the back of class avoiding the big group. The day went by, just like the first day, long and sweaty. Luckily it wasn’t as hot as the beginning of the school year.

Bakugo still reminded number one, followed by Midoriya who tied with Todoroki then Shoji, Tokoyami, Kirishima, me, the rest followed, and the most important part, Mineta was last. I smiled, he’d progressed but not enough to move up. He was lucky the first time Midoriya didn’t have a quirk exactly but this time he lucked out.

Every sat down taking deep breaths and trying to relax on the drying field. Todorki sat his legs ages did him and leaning back on his open palms. I dropped beside him a threw my myself back over his lap.

“It’s hot.” I whined taking his right hand putting it on my forehead, “You’re such a good friend.”

The rest of the Deku squad came around and started to chatter, I was staring up at the sky as it started to turn from its pale blue to a darker blue. The sun was moving over making room for the moon. I sighed and sat up.

“Deku, I need to talk to you and Todoroki.” They both looked at me. “Privately.”

After they followed me to a more secluded part of the field I turned to Shoto and gave him a look. “So, this isn’t my business so I’m leaving.”

I turned and walked not waiting. I made it back and plopped down beside Tokoyami who was sitting in the shade of a tree. Just a calm and nice person to sit silently with while the time passed. He opened his right eye and looked at me. I gave a small smile and he nodded before closing it again. This is what a friendship is made of, no words, just a peace full silence.

Time passed and I found myself staring at the sun through the leaves thinking about times I’ve spent in secret at the Todoroki Estate. My parents didn’t know, they lived in a different city, I had been staying in a student apartment until the school opened dorms. Whenever unexpected breaks came up I’d just tell them I was staying with Deku and his mom and they approved. In reality I’d go and stay with Shoto and stay in his house in the guest room. I might be infatuated with his dad but I’m not a loose woman. I arched my chest popped my back and stretched my legs out. My mind drifting to memories, of shopping with Shoto using his dads card, spending time with Endeavor, stuck under his heavy arm pressed against his side as we watched movies. Lingering in his office when he was busy with hero stuff. Hanging out with Shoto more and getting to know more about Endeavor then I would’ve expected. Soft touches and forehead kisses. Helping mend his and Shoto’s relationship, they might not be lovey dovey but now they can hold a simple conversation without cold stares and loud Soba slurping. I thought of every picture in my camera roll and Snapchat, picture with Enji, pictures with my future step son Shoto, pictures with both of them. Pictures of just them together. The day came to an end, and everyone finally started to head back in. I walked beside Tokoyami, just casually. When everyone was hot and back in the classroom Aizawa told us to dress nice for tomorrow for a photo. Everyone mumbled an okay and then left.

“So, Shoto....” I started as I dropped onto his bed, “How’d it go?”

“He said yes.” His simple answer as he looked through his closet.

“Great.” I chirped and stretched across his bed.

“He now also knows you’re going to be my step mother.” I chocked.

“what....” I faced him.

“A family vacation and you would be there, I can’t lie and say I invited you. It would make no sense for you to just show up. So I told him you were dating my dad.” He found a white button up shirt and grabbed closet hanger.

“Oh, so I can call him son in law now....” I grinned up at him as he tensed.

“Sure.” He mumbled and didn’t face me.

“NOW TELL ME.” I shoved myself up, “Where are we going?”

“Ask Endeavor when you see him today, now get up we have to get to class. I won’t be late for this photo because you’re interested in my dad and vacation.”

The party passed quickly, Momo tried to make a move on Todoroki which was stopped by Deku accidentally bumping into Iida who bumped into Uraraka who bumped Momo out of the way and away from Shoto. It was a calm first period, we took photo’s with Aizawa Separately and then together as a large group. He seemed happy as he looked at his phone until Kaminari screamed.

“IM GOING TO MISS YOU DADZAWA.” and then hugged his shoulders which led to a group hug.

The rest of the day was spent watching movies, when the day finally ended class 1-A spent all night singing Karaoke and playing games. Everyone heard Bakugo genuinely laugh after Kirishima tackles him and started to tickle his sides. He’s the only one brave enough and the only one who would’ve survived. Bakugo was nice the rest of the night, small ‘heh��s coming out of him every now thin. Leaning on each other and smiling talking about things that happened until Mina brought up the game of secret Santa we had all decided to play. So everyone traded gifts and decided to not open them until Christmas the only thing being you have to send a video to the person who sent it to you. I thanked Todoroki as he gave me a box. I gave one to Kirishima, who gave one to Bakugo, who gave one to Deku, who gave one to Tokoyami, then Mina, then Shoji, then Ochako, then Mineta, then Sero, then Ojiro, then Jirou, the rest followed until everyone had one gift.

“Group chat! Everyone has to send a picture of what they get!” Kirishima said and made a chat before anyone could deny.

I smield down at my phone as people sent messages with names and pictures. The night ended and we all went our separate way in the morning with goodbyes, take care, hugs and platonic cheek kisses.

I was the last one, everyone had left. I head back up and grabbed my bag, and a bag with the things I needed. I walked home, looking up at the sky. It was starting to pepper itself with stars. I made my way up an apartment building to the third level. Room 300, I opened it. It looked exactly how I last remembered it. Navy walls, white counter tops. Black glass Kotatsu, navy cushions with stars and constellations. I sighed the cold air filled my lungs. I stepped in, and turned on the bright white lights. I locked the door behind me. The kitchen was still small, white walls, black stove and sink, black refrigerator, wood knife block with gold knives I bought for the esthetic. I saw a bowl of mangos and picked a note that was laying on it.

‘(Y/n),

Were sorry we couldn’t bring you home. We sent a grocery order, If you’re reading this note it means the order made it to your apartment. Your dad and I sent you gifts we bought for Christmas. We love you, and stay safe.

Also, I sent a few extra hundred to your bank account buy yourself something nice while your off for break.

We love you, Merry Christmas. Well call you soon.’

I nodded at the note and just sighed. I made my way to my room, the walls here mimicked the living room with gold trim. I had placed metallic vinyl stars along the crown and down wards. I stepped over to my desk and it’s chair. I looked at my bed, king size leaving almost no room for anything else. Two standing lamps on either side of the head of the bed. The windows beside it were letting the moons light shine in through.

I sighed and laid in my bed and took in the feeling of the cold heavy blankets. I felt my eyes stinging, Why was I crying? I’d get to spend a week with Enji and Shoto and Deku. But I guess after that I’ll be alone for four weeks. Being alone that’s why, I sighed and rolled onto my stomach burying my face into a pillow. I pulled the blanket over myself and fell asleep in the moonlight.

I woke up heart racing to tapping on my window. I looked at the window ready to face whatever it could be. All I came to face were large slow raindrops pelting themselves against the window. I watched the skies, bright blue and purple lightening bolts lights up the dark. I wish it could rain forever sometimes, but I guess that’s just not the case. I sighed and pushed the blankets back feeling the heat build up. The rumbling of my ac started up, I yawned and stretched. At some point last night I ditched my pants and bra. I pushed myself up and took a shower and got ready to do nothing. It’ll be this week and next week before I get to see Shoto and Enji. What should I do?

I looked around my living room and huffed, “I probably should’ve stocked up on entertainment. I guess I can go to that large art store down the street. Or binge watch some Netflix.” I grabbed my phone to check my bank account. I’d been saving up and rarely spending to be able to splurge on myself on Christmas. I’d saved up $800, and let me see what my mom sent. “600?!”

“I have $1,400.00 to spend on myself! I could do so much... but I should probably save it for vacation in case I want to buy something.” I closed my phone and just decided to binge watch Avatar The Last Airbender. I got antsy and started to practice baking. I wasn’t bad but I wasn’t a pro.

I sighed leaning on the counter staring at the screen, Zuko’s back story played and I spoke to myself. “He’s definitely the reason I’ve had so many explosive crushes.”

The rest of the day went by slow, I recited the deliveries of present, I made cupcakes and a cake, an egg pudding, and I tried my hand in mochi. I sighed and started to make the icing to actually finish the cupcakes. I looked up smiling at a funny scene from Avatar. I started to pipe on the icing, and smiled at the black and white swirls.

The first week passed slowly, I used every tube of paint I had and still cut them open, I wore down every crayon, used every pot and pan at least five times. I started watching naruto with fillers, and took up sculpting with ten pounds of air dry clay I got on sale for four dollars. I smiled at the little frog I had finally finished, I put it in the sun to let it dry with the other frogs and turtles.

‘Hey you wanna come over?’ ❄️🔥

‘Yes please😢’ ☀️🖤

‘Alright, you should know what to bring by now. We’ll be there to pick you up in 30.’ ❄️🔥

‘Your such a life saver 😭 do you like sweets by the way?’ ☀️🖤

‘Sure, what’s your address? Natsuo will eat it if I dont so what do you have?’ ❄️🔥

‘A bakery, I just sent you my location’ ☀️🖤

‘You live in a bakery? 🤔’ ❄️🔥

‘Nope, just been bored. I’ll pack so see you when you get here.💙💙💙’ ☀️🖤

‘Food?’ ❄️🔥

‘Bread???’❄️🔥

‘🍩🍩🍩??? 👀 👀’ ❄️🔥

I finished packing and grabbed my favorite pillow and went to the kitchen and packed two cakes and about two dozen different muffins, and a tin of all my cookies.

‘I’m ready.’☀️🖤

‘You live here? 🤭🤭’ ❄️🔥

‘Yeah why?’ ☀️🖤

‘Your husband doesn’t seemed to pleased....👀’ ❄️🔥

‘HE LIVES IN A MANSION MY APARTMENT IS LIKE HALF THE SIZE OF ONE OF YOUR SMALL CLOSETS. 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔’ ☀️🖤

‘Sorry 😅 just come out.’ ❄️🔥

‘I need help to bring boxes down. 😐’ ☀️🖤

‘He’s going.’ ❄️🔥

I opened the door and came face to face with Enjis chest before he knocked.

‘Enji!’ I cheered.

“Shoto said you needed help.” He said and stood there looking down at me.

“Yeah, I uh....work for a baked and I have a lot of sweets that I’m not going to eat so I asked Todoroki and he said I could take them so he and Natsuo could eat.” I smiled up at him.

“I see.” He looked past me at boxes.

“Well let’s get these down then.” He picked up the boxes with ease and took my bag still after I denied.

I followed him, my phone and wallet in hand, I looked at the building one last time before getting into the car. I sat in the back Shoto passenger and Enji driving. I smiled and scooted to the middle and watched the scenery from the middle of the windshield.

We made it to the estate and I learned Natsuo and Fuyumi wouldn’t be home till Wednesday, considering it’s Saturday I can love on my boo. I settled in the lavish guest room and then made a bee live for Enji’s office. I burst in not knocking and found him standing over his desk. I moved behind him and hugged his waist pushing my right cheek into his back.

“I missed you.” I smield and squeezed him, it had no physical effect considering the man was rock hard.

He pulled my off and turned around, I hugged him again and he took me into his chest. He was so warm, and broad. I smiled into his warmth and enjoyed the physical affection. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, I’m not alone anymore.

The next two hours I spent talking to Enji and kissing his cheeks at random times and hugging his neck and shoulders and arms. I left once he got a phone call and it sounded important. I found Todorki staring at one of the boxes I brought.

“Let’s eat!” I said and popped the box of cake open.

His aurora darkened and he held up a knife, ‘I’ve been waiting for this.’

He cut into the cake and we started to feat, we finished the cake laughing on a sugar high at the sound of Shoto’s chair making a funny sound.

I smield at Shoto and he smield back.

“I’m glad it’s you and not just some random lady who doesn’t care about anyone else but herself.” His words were weird.

“I don’t know what you mean but okay.”

“You make us happy, my dad, you spend time with me and see me as a person and friend when no one else did.”

“Stop Sho, I’ll cry.” I said now understanding.

“He’s lucky, and if he messes up he’ll lose the both of us.” He threatened before stuffing himself with more cake.

His belly now round as he slouched.

“I love you both, really, as much as I can. I really honestly do.” I smield down at the empty messy box.

“I’ll clean up, go clena your face.” I handed him a napkin and patted his head.

I cleaned up thinking about what the future could hold and wondering what it does hold for the future.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

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Party Invites and Coffee Companions | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is for the absolutely wonderful @queenmendes​ who just needed some frat boy!connor. Also, Connor was supposed to be an asshole and then as I wrote it, he just wasn’t? Don’t know what happened there lol, I’m sorry. And it’s based off this photo:

Summary: Connor invites you to a party, but things get a little heated when one of his frat brothers starts hitting on you. (College!au)

Warnings: unforgivably beautiful frat boy!Connor is a warning in itself. Also jealous/protective!connor also I guess this could be considered angst? But like… not really? But it’s not really fluff either? Honestly it’s just a mess like the rest of my life, what else is new?

Word count: 3.3k

***

“Y/n, hey, wait up!” A familiar voice says from behind me and I stop just outside the door of the lecture hall. “Hi,” he says softly when he’s finally beside me.

“Hi,” I say back softly, starting to walk again.

“Where you headed?”

“Coffee shop. Need an afternoon pick me up.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

“Not at all.” I swallow the nervousness that’s threatening to build – just like it does every time I’m with Connor.

It’s no secret that’s notoriously gorgeous. Eyes this beautiful shade of blue-green that can change from the lighting or depending on what color he’s wearing. Today they’re bluer because of the royal blue button up he has over a plain white shirt. His hair looks messed up – but in an attractive way, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Which he has because I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, doing it every few minutes in class.

“So,” I say to fill the silence because with me in the conversation, any silence is awkward and I am determined to not do that now. “What did you think of lecture today?” Wow, stupid question, y/n, way to fucking go.

He chuckles and like, did I just feel my legs buckle? “You want the truth or a lie?”

I hum, “A lie.”

“I was rivetted,” he answers casually, opening the door to the university center, gesturing for me to go in before him.

“Oh, thanks.” I look down, walking in front of him.

“What about you? What’d you think of it?”

“Honestly? I found it hard to focus.” Which is true. Because how can anyone focus when a literal Greek God sits in the seat diagonal from you? You can’t, okay? Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s impossible. Half of my notes consist of his name written in various different fonts across the page.

He nods, “His voice is so monotonous, right?” he says before reaching the front of the line and turning his attention to the menu just above the barista, who is absolutely blushing because of the man in front of him. Not that I blame her.

“What can I – I get for you, sir?”

“Large coffee, black. And whatever she’s getting,” Connor nudges his head toward me, pulling out his wallet.

I shake my head, “No, Connor, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just order, please?” he pleads and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his features quite this soft. So of course I cave in and order.

I try to protest again when he hands the girl his card, still paying no mind to her blushing, flustered state. but he just shrugs me off with a smirk, taking his card back.

“Do you need a receipt?” she asks, her voice a little less timid than it was a second ago.

“No,” He waves a dismissive hand to her and walks over to the side to wait for our drinks. I thank her again before following him. “Do you have another class today?” he questions, hands back in his pockets.

“Um, no. I was actually planning to go to the library to try and finish up my English essay. It’s much easier to get things done in there than at my dorm.”

“Roommate problems?” he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“No, it’s not that. She and I are actually really close. We’ve been friends for years. That’s the problem. She’s very much a distraction.”

He nods understandingly. “I get it. I can never work at the house. The guys fuck around too much for me to get anything done.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

“Large black coffee. Regular vanilla latte,” the barista calls out and we both move forward to reach for our drinks. But Connor reaches for both and our fingers brush against each other when we touch my cold cup. It’s a struggle not to flinch against his touch.

“Um, I live just off campus. In the Omega Sigma frat house.”

“Oh, you’re in a frat,” I say, actually a little shocked. He didn’t give off the frat vibe. But then again, what do I know? We’ve only had a handful of conversations. In fact, this is the longest we’ve ever been together without being in class.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckles, handing me a straw.

“No, I didn’t – sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m kidding,” he cuts me off and I’m oddly grateful for it. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d join one either. But it’s not too bad.” He clears his throat. “Hey, I know you said you were going to the library, but do you think we could sit for a minute?”

Well how can I say no when he just bought me coffee? “Sure.”

“The corner table good?”

I nod, “Yeah, perfect.”

He leads the way, sitting in the actual corner seat. I sit in front of him and stir my coffee a little with my straw. This should be weird, sitting with him like this when we’ve never been together like this before. But it’s oddly comfortable. Although, a part of me is still wondering why he even wants me to sit with him. I mean, it’s not like I’m a dazzling conversationalist.

We just sit in silence for a minute and I’m internally screaming as he takes the lid of his drink and just takes a sip of his plain, black, hot coffee. And he doesn’t even blink an eye. Who does that?!

“Do you have pla –”

“Brashier!” Someone calls from behind me and I try not to jump at the loud voice.

He forms a close-lipped smile and nods in the voice’s direction, “Sup, Craigen.”

“I need your notes for psych. I missed the first thirty minutes.”

“It’s a fifty minute class,” he points out.

“Yeah, that’s why I need your notes.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But then his attention is on me. “Shit, where are my manners. Hi, I’m Brian,” he extends his hand to me with a wide smile. “I’m Connor’s roommate and best friend.”

“Best friend is a little bit of a stretch,” Connor says.

I take Brian’s hand to shake and give a polite smile, “Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I take my hand back.

“Brash, did you invite her to the party?”

“Party?” I look back to Connor with a raised eyebrow.

He glares at Brian. “I was about to.”

Brian cowers back, holding up his hands. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you have a class you need to get to?” Connor asks, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

Brian checks his watch. “Fuck, yeah I do. But seriously, Brash. Those notes?”

“They’re in the room. I’ll give them to you when I get back to the house.”

“You’re a fucking angel. I gotta run. It was nice meeting you, y/n. I hope to see you around soon.” He says before rushing off, not even giving me a chance to respond.

“He’s friendly.”

“He’s annoying,” Connor says back.

“So… a party?”

He sucks in a breath, “Yeah. The house is throwing this party on Friday. It’ll be really casual. Just a punch people looking to get drunk and destress since midterms are coming up. And it probably doesn’t sound that appealing when I say it like that, but it really will be fun. And I don’t really know if parties are your thing but I’d really enjoy it if you came.”

I nod. He’s right though, parties aren’t really my thing. I mean, I’ve been to a few, but I was never the type to go and get drunk. But maybe it would be a good idea – to destress, like he said. And I mean, if he’s gonna be there, I wouldn’t totally mind spending a little more time with him.

“So, would you like to come? It-s – it’s totally up to you, though. You don’t have to. You probably already have plans, so if you can’t, don’t worry about it. I just thought I’d ask.”

“I’d love to come,” I say finally, taking a sip of my drink.

“Really?” he clears his throat, “I mean, yeah. Cool. Um, if you want to give me your number, I can send you the address.”

“Okay.” I don’t tell him that he could just write it down for me, even though he absolutely could. He hands me his phone with a sheepish – if I’m reading him correctly – smile. I type in my name and number and hand it back to him. “I should, I should get to the library,” I say after another couple minutes of silence. “Wanna find a comfortable place to sit. I might be there for a while.”

He nods, “Yeah, no of course. I’m keeping you from your studies,” he stands. “Um, I could – I could walk you there, if you’d like? I parked close anyway.

He still wants to spend time with me? What is his deal? But then again, who am I to deny the company of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on? “Well… if you’re going the same way, I don’t see why not,” I say nonchalantly. Even though on the inside my stomach is doing backflips.

---

I’m brushing out my hair when my phone dings with a message.

Hey it’s Connor! :)

I smile to myself and finish brushing out my hair before texting him back, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to him.

Hi! I type back simply.

It doesn’t takes long to respond again.

I have the address for you.

Friday night comes faster than expected – and after another impromptu coffee “date” with Connor after lecture. And even though Connor said it was casual, and I know I could have stayed in my outfit from earlier. But I change at least three times.

“Okay, what do you think?” I ask my roommate.

“It’s cute. But I’ve also said that about the last two outfits were cute. So who’s the boy? Why are you getting so dressed up?”

“It’s not dressed up, is it? Should I change the cardigan?”

“No, I mean why have you changed so many times? Who is he?”

I sigh, “Okay. You know, Connor Brashier? He’s in my Tuesday/Thursday lecture. I’ve told you about him once or twice.”

“He’s friends with Shawn, right?”

I shrug, “I think so.”

She smiles, “He’s a cutie. Good choice. You planning on doing anything with him?”

“I’m just going to a party.”

“Yeah, to see him.”

“No. He just invited me. He said it would be a good way to destress.”

“But you like him.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll text you when I get there.”

“Have fun, be safe. Call me if you need a ride back.”

---

I’ve barely been in the house for two minutes when I hear my name being called. “Y/n! You came!”

“Oh, Brian. Hey!”

“I’m so glad you could make it. Connor’s gonna be so excited to see you. Can I get you a drink?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

“Follow me,” he holds his hand out for me and I take it, walking closely behind him. He’s in the middle of pouring my drink when Connor finds his way over to us.

“Hey, you came,” he says to me, placing his hand on the small of my back and I think my heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Yeah, I did,” I smile and turn to look at him. He’s wearing a black hoodie and olive green pants with a backwards baseball cap. I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more beautiful. But god he does. His eyes are greener today. I don’t know if it’s because of the pants or because of the awful lighting in the room, but they’re green and he looks so good. His hair flips out a little under his cap and it’s so fluffy. It looks like it would be so nice to run my fingers through. And I wonder what it feels like to do it. His face, it’s more open today. Softer, maybe. His freckles stick out a little bit more, especially one right by his nose and one on his cheek.

“You look pretty,” he compliments when I take my drink from Brian.

“Thank you,” I say, to both of them.

“I’ll leave you two alone, but I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Brian says, pushing just past Connor.

“It’s kind of loud in here, you want to head outside?”

I nod, “Sure!”

We make our way outside, it’s a little less loud, but there’s still a lot of people out here.

“Pretty good turnout, huh?”

“It’s actually kinda small compared to our usual parties.”

I stare, wide eyed at him. “You mean they get bigger?”

He takes a sip from his cup with a certain nod, “Oh yeah. Last month, we got the cops called because it got so big.”

I laugh, “I heard about that. My roommate was at that one, actually.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, she came for Shawn.”

He chuckles, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Shawn bring a lot of girls back?”

“I wouldn’t say he brings a lot back. But they definitely attach themselves to him. He plays music when the bar down the street does open mic night. Girls love musicians.”

“And what about you?”

“What? Do I love musicians?” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

“No,” I say back. “I mean, what do you do? What makes girls attach themselves to you?” Besides your gorgeous face and fluffy hair.

“Girls aren’t exactly beating down my door,” he says softly.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Okay,” he takes in a breath. “I do photography. Film, mostly.”

“What kind of film?”

“Anything. I started with skimboarding, and just progressed from there. Sometimes I film the parties – the guys just fucking around in the house. Compile it all together just for fun.”

“Can I see some of what you’ve done?” I ask, genuinely interested in this boy and his hobbies.

“Um… yeah.” He pats his pockets and curses. “Fuck, I left my phone in my room. Give me second?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, just… wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Now what is a pretty girl like you doing standing out here alone?” A voice says from my left where the door to the kitchen is. I startle a little before forcing a tight smile.

“Um, I’m waiting for someone. He’ll be right back.”

“Well, I’ll keep you company until he comes back. Does that sound okay?”

I want to say no because I don’t really like the way he’s looking me up and down. But I go against my better judgement and allow him to stay. “I guess that’s okay.”

“I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name,” he takes a swig of his beer, looking me up and down again before taking a step closer, to which I take a subtle step away.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Don’t really come to a lot of parties.”

“Well I assumed. I definitely would have remembered you if you had.”

I want to roll my eyes.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I hold my cup up for him to see. “Already got one, but thanks.” I look around the backyard at all the people talking and laughing and I hope Connor comes back soon. Because Tim’s just taken another step closer to me and I’m really not –

“Little close there, aren’t you, Tim?” Connor’s voice sounds from behind the tall guy and I feel myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Just making small talk, Brashier. No big deal.”

“Right,” Connor says, squeezing between us, his hand gently grazing my thigh as he pushes me behind him. My breath hitches but I don’t thing either of them notice. And if they do, they ignore it. “I think you should go find someone else to talk to.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make. That should be up to y/n. What, do you make her decisions for her? Because she’s her own person and she can make her own decisions.”

“I know she can. But I’m this close,” he pinches his fingers together, “to punching you for getting too close to my girl. So let’s make a good choice, Tim, because it’s not looking too good for you if you keep on the path you’re on.”

I try not to let it get to me that he just called me his girl. He’s doing it for Tim’s benefit, I tell myself. He’s just trying to get him off my back.

Tim laughs, like actually laughs. “God, Connor. It’s a party, man. You need to loosen up. Maybe y/n can help you with that. She looks like a screamer. Could be good for your ego,” he says earning a hard shove at his chest from Connor.

“Con, no. Stop,” I reach for his arm, and I know this is serious and I shouldn’t be thinking it, but… how his muscles feel really nice. Even when they’re covered by his thick hoodie.

“Yeah, Con, stop,” Tim mocks. “Listen to your little girlfriend.”

“Tim, fuck off. I swear to god, I will punch you.”

“You’re gonna risk getting kicked out of the frat for a stupid girl?”

“Watch it,” he warns, taking a step closer to Tim who has somehow stepped farther from this scene that’s developed. I yank on his arm, my chest pressed firmly against his back.

“Connor, calm down. It’s okay.”

He turns his head toward me, the bill of his cap barely missing my face. His jaw is clenched tight, but his eyes show nothing but compassion. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I nod, “Please.”

“Let’s go,” his hand is back around my waist as he leads me the opposite way of Tim. He rounds the corner and we leave out the side gate. Only once we’re far enough for the bass of the music to not shake the ground we’re walking on does he take his first full breath. I do too, relieved that he’s no longer heaving. “I’m sorry,” he says finally and stops walking, his hands in his jacket pocket. “For what happened back there. I just – Tim’s not a great guy. And I know, I know it’s not my place to tell you or anyone else who you can and can’t talk to, but just know that I was doing it to prot-”

I cut him off with a soft kiss on the cheek, and we’re both blushing when I pull away. “Thank you.”

He clears his throat and looks at the ground, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “Oh, um… you’re welcome.”

I check the time on my phone, “Do you want to go somewhere?” I ask.

“Sure, where?”

“I don’t know. We could go get coffee at the diner downtown. They don’t close until one.”

He smiles despite the tense situation we were just in, and I smile back. “Is coffee gonna be our thing?”

I shrug, “That depends… do you want us to have a thing?”

He swallows and nods, fixing his cap on his head and pushing his hair behind his ears. And oh my goodness this man has the cutest ears. “I want us to have a lot of things… I mean, only if you want to, of course. I just – I don’t know, maybe we could hang out a little more. Preferably away from the frat house.” Away from Tim, he wants to say. “I want to get to know you. As more than just a classmate, or coffee companion.”

I can’t help but laugh as I take his hand, leading him in the way of my car. “I don’t know, coffee companion sounds like a pretty good gig.”

“What about a coffee date?” he asks with a smirk.

“Well… I think that sounds even better.”

***

I hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

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* bold wouldn’t let me tag

** if you want to be added or removed from any list (permanent, Shawn, Connor,  We Were Us, or Not So Brash Brashier’s) just let me know

[soundofseventeen]

Blind Date (Choi Seungcheol)

Hello! I meant to post one yesterday but yesterday was... not a good day so it never happened. But here we are!! I have officially crossed the half way point for writing these! Have a good Friday everyone! 💛💚

Requested by @laughinglikenialler​

63: “I am home.”

81: “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“Oh, here.” Seungcheol said, taking his jacket off of his shoulders. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.” 

“Oh, that’s not-” You said, Seungcheol just shaking his head. 

“Nonsense. What kind of date would I be if I didn’t at least offer?” Seungcheol grinned, lightly placing the jacket on your shoulders and adjusting it slightly in the front. “Perfect fit.” He smiled, you feeling your face burn ever so slightly as he did. You looked down just in time to miss the slight pink appear on Seungcheol's face, as he cleared his throat and turned to continue walking down the sidewalk. 

You couldn’t believe this date was going this well. Last time your friend had offered to set you up with someone, it had been less than pleasant. So when they offered to set you up on another date, a large part of you was inclined to say no. But they swore that this guy was actually your dream guy, so you agreed to at least meet him. Granted, it was under the condition that if this one went poorly, they were never allowed to set you up ever again. 

But you had to admit, they may have had a point. Seungcheol genuinely seemed to be your dream guy. You almost couldn’t believe it when he walked into the restaurant, coming up and asking if you were you. At first you just thought he was someone who knew you from somewhere, but when he introduced himself and sat down you realized he was indeed your date for the evening. 

You two got along far too easily. It almost felt like you had known him for years rather than just having met him that night. He told you fun stories about his friends and his life, and he even laughed at your dumb jokes that people usually sighed at. You even found yourself smiling as he laughed, internally deciding that you really enjoyed that sound. 

You knew it was getting late and you should have probably headed home after dinner, but you found it incredibly hard to say no when Seungcheol asked about stopping for dessert somewhere. He said one of his friends knew about this great ice cream place that made these massive shakes, and honestly seeing how excited he was to try one made you say yes. Apparently he hadn’t had a chance to go yet. 

So, after dinner instead of going home, you went with him to this shop. You had to admit, you were impressed by the size of these shakes. They were massive. Thankfully, Seungcheol pointed out that since you both just ate dinner, maybe splitting one would be a good option. So you spent another hour sitting outside of the ice cream parlor, telling each other even more stories. You couldn’t help but notice that Seungcheol kept turning the glass so that the toppings were always on your side. You smiled to yourself, figuring that was either because he saw you eyeing them when you were ordering, or so he could get more ice cream. 

After the ice cream though, you both had to admit that it was time for the date to end. You still found yourself smiling and nodding when Seungcheol offered to at least walk you home, glad that he seemed to not want this to end either. 

So you both walked the streets, his jacket around your shoulders, still managing to find things to talk about. You had actually been walking around your neighborhood, having passed your apartment a couple times, but you were still having too much fun. 

“Oh come on, everyone has one.” Seungcheol said, laughing as he looked at you. 

“Well, I don’t.” You countered, Seungcheol shaking his head. 

“No, no. Come on, everyone has at least one sport type they are attracted to watching. So come on, what is it?” He said, you rolling your eyes. 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You countered, Seungcheol looking at you for a second. 

“Fine. Volleyball.” Seungcheol said, you raising an eyebrow. “Volleyball players are very attractive. Don’t judge me.” He said, you letting out a laugh. 

“I’m not judging, it’s just…” You scrunched up your face, Seungcheol looking at you. 

“Oh my god. You play volleyball, don’t you?” 

“A little. It’s mostly recreational now, but I may have played a bit in school.” You said, Seungcheol nodding. 

“Wow, I didn’t think you could do it, but you somehow just became like, twice as attractive.” He said, you feeling your face burning as you looked away again. “Okay, I told you mine. What’s yours?” 

“I guess fair is fair. I might lean towards baseball players.” You said, Seungcheol raising an eyebrow. 

“Really?” 

“Baseball pants man. Can’t really explain it.” You laughed, Seungcheol nodding. 

“Wow uh… I am... not good at baseball.” He said, letting out a laugh. 

“Oh shoot. And just when this was going so well.” You shook your head, Seungcheol pouting at you. “I guess I can maybe make an exception. You gotta try on the pants though before I make an official decision.” Seungcheol let out a loud laugh. 

“Weird request, but deal.” He said, looking around your neighborhood. “Wow, you live really out of town, huh? I feel like we’ve been walking forever.” 

“Uh… Yeah.” You said, looking around yourself. “It should be here some-”

“Wait.” Seungcheol said, pointing at the corner store. “We’ve passed that.” He looked at you, an eyebrow raised. 

“Okay, I might have a confession.” You said, Seungcheol grinning at you. “This is my neighborhood. I just wasn’t ready for the date to end, you know? It’s been a lot of fun.” 

“Well,” Seungcheol said, officially taking your hand in his. “I should at least make sure you actually get home.” 

“...I am home, though.” You said, Seungcheol shaking his head. 

“No, I mean-”

“Literally my apartment building is right there.” You said, pointing to the building by the corner store, Seungcheol’s eyebrows going up. 

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, I will at least make sure you cross the street okay.” He said, you letting out a laugh as he led you across the road. 

“So… Thank you for a wonderful evening.” You said, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. 

“Thank you.” Seungcheol said, taking the jacket back. 

“You know, I find it weird that we hadn’t been set up before. We share a few of the same friends and everything.” You commented, Seungcheol’s cheeks turning pink again. 

“About that, I might have a confession as well.” You raised an eyebrow, Seungcheol scratching his neck. “I kind of asked Seungkwan to set us up. I saw you at Wonwoo’s birthday party and Seungkwan said you knew each other, so I might have asked him about it.” 

“Really?” You asked, Seungcheol nodding. 

“So… I don’t know what you were thinking, but I would love to possibly go for a second date?” He grinned, your heart doing little flips. 

“I think that could be arranged.” You smiled, Seungcheol nodding. 

“Well then… I will call you tomorrow.” He said, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your cheek. “Good night, Y/N.” He grinned, turning to walk away. You stood outside your apartment for a second, waving as Seungcheol turned back, yelling for you to go inside already. You giggled to yourself, turning and heading in, reminding yourself to thank Seungkwan the next time you saw him.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 2/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some language in this chapter but nothing more. 

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this. 

A/N: I have crawled out of my deathbed long enough to post this. Thank you to everyone who has read so far, and I hope your enjoyment continues with this next installment! xo

Chapter 1 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 2: Meet Me in the Morning

October 5: Saturday

Emma Swan doesn’t care about routines. She does most things at the same time each day, but that’s only because she wakes up, takes a shower, gets ready, and goes to work at the same time. Every day.

On the weekends, she’s a mess. She’s not entirely ashamed to admit there are some weekends she doesn’t even bother showering. She’s a single woman living alone so she’s the only one who has to deal with it.

It was by chance that, a little more than a month ago, she decided to walk to work early and saw Killian Jones for the first time. She’s been walking the same route for so long but she had never seen him before, more than likely because he seems to like to get to work early and she prefers to run in at the last second before she’d be considered late.

That first time was a fluke – she told David she would come in a little early to help haul records out of storage and there was this newcomer standing at the corner she crosses in order to get to Main Street. Storybrooke doesn’t get a lot of tourists, and of course she’d heard rumors that there was someone new, but to see him in person was a jolt of excitement.

He was reading something on his phone and looked like he was going to walk straight into the street. She had hustled to get to the corner sooner to stop him in case a car was coming (unlikely with how early it was and in this town) but he stopped, as if his shoes had suddenly stuck him to the spot. Without looking, he pushed the button for the crosswalk and kept on reading. Emma realized that this was something he had ingrained into him so deeply that he even knew where to stop because of muscle memory. Pretty impressive for a guy who’d only lived here a handful of weeks.

Despite being unconsciously aware of his surroundings, he didn’t seem to even notice her following him at a distance, so she lurked in her own way until she got to Granny’s, watching with interest as he took the left at the post office and went on his way.

Curious to see if he would repeat this chain of events, Emma showed up early again the next day just in time to see him walking up, but it was all wrong. He wasn’t reading, so he wasn’t lost in whatever was on his phone, and instead of just blindly stopping and pushing the button, his eyes met hers and he stumbled just the tiniest bit during the approach.

Suddenly, Emma kind of liked the idea of showing up every day around the same time to see if any of the above happened again – would be he lost in technology or would his steps falter again?

And both events did happen, but every time he’d get close to the corner, he’d look up and around, oftentimes catching the moment she was just approaching the crosswalk. Six weeks straight, every Monday through Friday, they walk together.

But last Monday he didn’t show up. She waited a couple minutes, but he still didn’t show. So she did what any sane person would do and went about her business. On a whim, she got two coffees at Granny’s and proceeded to stand outside for an extra ten minutes, not even sure he would pass by. Maybe he didn’t have to go to work. Maybe while she was getting the coffee, he went speeding past. Maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere. She didn’t even know him but she was tempted to set out a search party for the man who always walks to work looking like a GQ model. 

With that in mind, she’d started texting David asking how out of line it would be to create a missing persons report for someone who was, by her calculations, twenty minutes late.

“Who do you think is missing?” he’d texted back, clearly humoring her.

But that brought up a whole new set of problems because sure, she knew his name. How could she explain to David that she wanted to check up on someone she’d never even had a conversation with? And how could she do it without making David incredibly suspicious of Killian Jones?

When she looked up, Killian was there, looking just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. She had a moment of mild panic, locking and shoving her phone in her pocket without responding to her brother. She grabbed the coffees and started to just leave, but she noticed he didn’t have his to-go mug in hand and remembered why she ordered two on impulse. 

So she officially met Killian that day, embarrassingly asking for his name even though she already knew it, and their daily interactions subtly changed again. She ponders this over a late breakfast the day after their bar run-in, marveling at the fact that she didn’t drink that much, that she’s not nursing a hangover with greasy food and a whole pot of coffee. Instead, she settles on the couch with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and stares at the TV screen as she tries to decide which Netflix show to go for first. 

Halfway through the first show, though, her thoughts keep drifting to the way Killian’s lips felt on the back of her hand. It’s occurred to her that she’s in trouble because he’s already gotten closer than she’s let most men in the last few years. She all but swore off relationships after the last one, but there’s something magnetic about Killian that keeps drawing her back. There’s a kinship, maybe. She sees it in his eyes some mornings - just a flash of something she can’t quite name but that lives inside her as well. 

Knowing this is where dangerous thoughts lead, she finishes her cereal and eyes the visible messes in her apartment. Maybe some cleaning will help wipe the thoughts of getting those lips on hers from her brain. She starts with the overflowing sink. 

By the end of the weekend, her apartment is spotless but her mind is more restless than it’s been in ages.

It doesn’t help that David calls her Sunday evening, making sure to emphasize that Killian seems like a nice guy. She’s just gathering the last of her laundry to tackle while dinner is still in the oven, so she hauls the hamper down to the basement of her building while David pries into her personal life.

“Yeah, he does,” Emma replies nonchalantly. “Do you want me to bring breakfast to the station tomorrow?” If she tries to change the subject, no one can really blame her for it. 

“No need. It’s muffin Monday. But back to the guy that suddenly showed up after you were just texting me about putting out a missing person report on someone?”

“Geez, David. Way to be subtle,” she huffs as she finishes stuffing the clothes in the washer, starting the cycle before walking back to her apartment and pacing a circuit as the conversation continues. “So, was it Killian? How long have you been seeing him?”

“I’m not seeing him,” she defends, even though David’s tone is less stern and more overly-cautious-about-who-dates-his-sister. “We just sort of walk together for a bit in the mornings. I got worried when he showed up late one day. The guy is like an advertisement for punctuality.”

David hums a response, not sounding convinced. “And spending time alone with him last night? How does that figure into all this?”

With an exasperated sigh, Emma stops walking around her living room and drops onto the edge of the couch. “It just means that I have a new friend or something. That’s all. Nothing more than that.”

“Uh huh. So make sure the Save-the-Dates have ‘David was right’ written somewhere on them, okay?”

“Oh, would you look at the time? Dinner’s burning. Gotta go!”

This is one of those moments she sincerely misses phones with cords because it’s not nearly as satisfying to click the lock button to end the call and toss her phone on the coffee table as it would’ve been to slam down the receiver. She leaves it there for the rest of the night until it’s time to plug it in before bed, letting it represent all the truths she isn’t ready to face yet. 

Killian is just on his way to becoming one of her friends. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing more than that, either.

-x- October 7: Monday

On Monday, Emma follows her own version of her morning routine and gets to the corner just as Killian is pushing the button for the crosswalk. She’s exhausted from a night of intermittent sleep, but can’t resist returning the gesture when Killian smiles and waves when he sees her. 

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets, his cheery demeanor trying its best to rub off on her but failing miserably.

“It’s certainly morning,” Emma grumbles, wanting to reach out and grab the stainless steel mug from his hand and chug until she can function again. 

“Well, that’s certainly a Monday mood if I’ve ever heard one. Not enough sleep last night?”

She shakes her head instead of responding, not really sure how to explain that he’s the reason without it sounding like either flattery or an insult. Truly, it was her own internal fuck-ups that kept her awake, and the fear that Killian Jones might be someone she wants to think about more often. This all floats through her brain on a lazy river of thought, and meanwhile, the light changes and Killian ushers her across the street and maneuvers her up the path to Granny’s before she can even register that she’s moved at all. 

But instead of that being the end of their daily interactions, Killian is still walking beside her, opening the door for her when they walk up the few steps to the entrance, and somehow herding her without touching her all the way to the proprietress. 

“Granny, I do believe our good deputy here is suffering from severe sleep deprivation. Might you have something strong enough to knock out her Monday?”

“You’re consorting with this one, now?” Granny asks her, confusion popping up one gray eyebrow above her spectacles. 

“I wouldn’t say consorting, as such, but we’ve become acquainted,” Killian says when she still can’t seem to find her words. 

“Americano,” Emma finally spits out. “Make that a double.” Her brain is trying so hard to catch up to everything but somehow hearing Killian describe them as not-quite-consorting is the comforting wake-up she needed. 

“There she is!” Killian’s exuberant tone jolts her a little bit, but she snorts a little and shakes her head. 

“I’m good now, Jones. Thanks.”

“No worries, love. Happy to help.” 

She remembers hearing the endearment the first time, that split-second instinct she had to correct him and tell him she was nothing to him at all, before she realized she’s been called the same by Robin and Will on more occasions than she can count.

Killian waits with her until the coffee is in her hands and walks the short length down to where they have to split in opposite directions to go to their places of employment. Emma tries not to linger once they get to that point, not wanting to hold him up from getting to work on time.

“Until tomorrow, then?” he asks, a gentle hint to the words. There’s something in his expression that speaks volumes more than his voice does, though.

“Until tomorrow, Jones.” She gives him a sly smile when she does it, lifting her coffee in thanks like he did the morning they officially met. 

At lunch time, she’s feeling a little more like herself thanks to the coffee, but her energy is flagging and she realizes she never even ate breakfast, either. Just a granola bar she had in her desk from who knows when. 

“I’m gonna walk down to Granny’s and get some lunch. What do you want?”

“Usual burger and fries?” David sounds as drained as she feels thanks to the stacks of files he’s been working on all morning, so she makes up her own mind to bring back more coffee to save them both from the ancient pot they still keep in the corner for some reason. 

There’s something a lot more enticing than caffeine waiting in the diner, however, since she spots Killian in one of the booths almost as soon as she enters. He’s elbow deep in a stack of pages, oblivious to the world around him as it all bustles along. Instead, she has a suspicion that whatever he’s reading is where he lives now. 

She wars with herself over whether or not to disturb him when he looks so engrossed, but it also looks like he hasn’t stopped in a while if his half-eaten lunch is anything to go by. With a quick stop by the counter, Emma places her to-go order and asks for a refill on Killian’s drink. 

There’s a knowing arch to Granny’s eyebrow as she hands over the coffee and Emma pretends not to notice it, instead telling the older woman to let her know when her order is all ready. 

“Careful, Jones. You look like you’re about to blow a fuse,” Emma says as she reaches the table, leaning casually against the other side of the booth after setting his drink in the last clean space. Even with the blatant approach, Emma can still tell she’s surprised him by the way he jumps a little in his seat. It takes a moment for him to speak, his eyes never leaving the page.

“I have to concentrate a little harder when there are beautiful women standing beside my temporary work space,” comes his response as he marks his spot on the page he’s working through. It’s then that he looks up at her, his eyes shining with humor but also the truth of his words. She knows it; she has a thing about people and lies. So of course she blushes, averting her eyes to scan around his mess of a table.

“I figured you were more of a neat, orderly pile kind of person,” she says with a gesture to the table. “I mean, you just seem the type.”

If he notices her weird tone of embarrassment, he ignores it. “You’re not wrong. I’ve just been so lost in the stories here that I’ve let the chaos take over a little bit. Thankfully, everything is numbered, or else I’d be in trouble.” “Why read here? Don’t you have an office with that fancy publishing company?”

“I do. It’s a very small, very modest office that I probably sit in more often than my home. But it also has other people who don’t like to respect my closed door in the afternoons. Namely, of course, Will Scarlet.”

She chuckles at that, not entirely surprised that he would choose to escape instead of trying to deal with Will. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

“And you? What brings you in? You look far more alert than you did this morning, by the way.”

“Thanks, I think? I’m here for lunch and coffee. We’re just getting started trying to get the old reports all transfered to our digital format. I love him, but David primarily uses the single fingers typing method that’s popular with dads and I couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore.”

“Emma!” They both jolt at the calling of her name, looking over to see Granny holding the bag with her order inside.

“Speaking of which, sounds like I’m up. I guess I should leave you to it, then. Wouldn’t want to add to your distractions list.”

“For the record, Swan, you’re always welcome to interrupt my work without ending up on my naughty list.” There’s just something about the way he says the line that Emma thinks is 99.9% totally innocent, but the very use of the word “naughty” has her 100% sure he could take it in a very dirty direction if given the chance. The most shocking part is that she kinda wants to walk right into it. “And thanks for the refresher on the coffee.”

“Don’t fry your brain,” she comments before pushing away from the booth and collecting her lunch. With reluctance, she walks out the door instead of going back to the damn booth and taking up more of his time. 

-x- October 11: Friday & October 18: Friday

The rest of the work week passes quickly, with greetings to Killian in the mornings, steady work in the afternoons, and dinner spent alone in the evenings. With each new day, her conversations with Killian got a little longer, more drawn-out, and she was finding out so much more about him.

By that Friday, they’ve talked about work, and bickered about the best toppings to go on waffles, what their sweet tooth go-to is. And then, again, their habits change a little bit more.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asks, not even sure what prompted her to say anything. She wasn’t initially planning on heading to the bar after her shift, but their morning topic of pet ownership is apparently enough that it makes her want to talk to him more. 

“Maybe,” he tells her. He means “yes” if his expression is anything to go on.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.”

“It’s not a no, either,” he tells her, reaching up to push her hair off her shoulder with his hook. With that same smug expression on his face, he waves goodbye and leaves her outside Granny’s to get her coffee. One of these days she’s just going to steal his as retribution for saying that Pop-Tarts are not a suitable breakfast. 

He does make an appearance that night, sitting between herself and Snow after he wanders in with Will. She can already tell that he’s worming his way into Snow’s heart, and while that will ultimately make her life more complicated when the other woman starts pressuring her to date him, at least she’ll have her sister’s approval. 

He doesn’t stay long, claiming at one point that he could very well fall asleep on his walk back home. Emma is this tempted to ask if he wants her to walk with him, but he bumps her shoulder companionably and says he’ll see her on Monday before he rises from the table and walks to the bar to pay his tab. 

She keeps her eyes peeled on her own walk home to make sure he isn’t asleep somewhere along the route, just to be safe, and that’s damning enough on its own to indicate how she feels about him. 

The next Friday, she’s lost in thought picking up dinner from Granny’s when the voice of Will Scarlet intrudes her personal space. 

“Get your boyfriend to go out with us tonight. He’s refusing to leave his office,” he says bluntly, sliding up next to Emma at the counter. She’s thrown for a second by the word ‘boyfriend’ and stares at him for a moment before she realizes Will’s talking about Killian.

“Killian’s not my boyfriend,” she says, trying not to sound too bristly.

“Well, not with that bloody attitude he’s not,” Will says, grin still in place.

“Go away.”

“I will as soon as I’ve got food for that prickly bastard I work with.”

“Why’s he prickly?”

“He’s been locked away in that bloody office all week. Never left the room except for toilet breaks today. Propped a chair in front of the door so I couldn’t get in to try to make him break for lunch.”

“Doesn’t his door have a lock?”

“Do you really think a locked door can keep me out?”

It’s none of her business, not really, but she’s still a little concerned about that much work. 

“C’mon, Lady Sheriff. I figure if anyone is going to get him to cut back a little bit and take a night to recharge, it’ll be the woman he fancies.”

There are so many things for her to unpack in that sentence.

“I’m the deputy,” she corrects almost absently because the rest of her brain and a thumping portion of her heart are still stuck on the idea that Killian fancies her - the very British way for Will to say that he like likes her. Has he said that out loud to Will? Does he talk about her?

“I don’t have his number or anything. It’s not like I can just text him and tell him what to do.”

“Okay then, you can take him the dinner I was planning on dropping off and use your womanly charms to get him away from that bloody computer screen for a night.”

Emma snorts at the idea of trying to use any kind of womanly charms, since she hasn’t used those since she was helping chase bail skips back in her early twenties. She doesn’t think Will has the same ideas as she does when she hears those words, and thank goodness for that. 

In the end, when the food is ready to go, Emma takes the bag from Will. “Fine. But only because he’s probably so sick of your face that he’d just as soon starve than open that door for you again.”

Will is clearly torn between celebrating that his plan has worked and being an ass about her reasoning, but Belle walks in and diverts his attention, so Emma starts edging towards the door with the two bags of food in hand.

“You know where the building is, yeah?”

“I do.”

“Turn to the left past reception and it’s down the second hall to the right.”

It’s almost pointless that Will gave her the directions, since there’s only one office in the whole building that seems to be lit up. The rest of the place is deserted, but his door is propped open and she’s about to knock, but takes a moment instead to appreciate how intense Killian looks while he’s working. 

He’s chewing on his lip, eyes scanning his computer screen with fervor. He’s wearing glasses, which she’s never seen before, and even though she’s been standing here for at least thirty seconds, he still hasn’t seemed to notice she’s there with how deep he’s in the story. With a shifting of bags, she lightly knocks on the doorframe to catch his attention. 

“If you’ve come to get me out of this office, you’ll have to try harder than by bringing me food.”

“Even if it’s really good food?” Emma asks. “I see you unblocked the door.”

Killian’s head snaps up so fast that she’s sure he’s given himself whiplash.

As such, his voice is breathless when he says her last name, as if she’s a mere mirage standing in his doorway and he is a man dying of thirst. With the expression on his face, she’s pretty sure that’s not far from the truth. 

“You’re not Will.”

“And thank god for that,” Emma says, finally entering his office and presenting him with the bag of food marked with his name on it. 

“Ah, but he sent you,” Killian retorts as he accepts the bag. He sees the second bag in Emma’s hand. “Do you have time? Would you like to eat, as well?”

She hesitates for a moment, thinking about how all she was going to do was drop off the food and go, maybe remind him to drink water or something, but he looks like he could use the company of someone other than the fictional characters in front of him. “Sure,” she finally says, moving the chair in front of his desk closer so she can place her own food on the surface. 

As they each eat their dinners, Killian tells her more about the project he’s been assigned. 

“It’s a relatively short book compared to the other projects I’ve worked on, but because of how much is riding on this one thing, I feel like I’m hyper-obsessing over every detail. I read the whole thing that day you saw me at the diner, and I’m still in the first chapter making edits and comments because I keep wondering if it’s the right call or not. I meet the author in a couple weeks and I want to have more than three pages marked up before that day.”

“You need to stop psyching yourself out so much,” Emma concludes as she pops another onion ring in her mouth. “And you definitely need to ease up on the time in the office. How long ago did everyone leave today?”

“Most cut out by three on Fridays.”

“So you’ve just been here for three hours working by yourself in a dark office building? With the front door unlocked?”

“It’s Storybrooke, love. Who’s going to even want to come here?”

“You have a point, I guess.” She wipes her hands with a napkin, shoving her trash back in the bag and crumpling it up. “But still, you should consider going out with everyone tonight. Or at least going home and drinking a lot of water and thinking about self-care.”

“Will you be included in this everyone?” He sounds a little quiet, a little unsure, a little nervous when he asks. 

The woman he fancies, marches back through her head and Emma’s heart flutters a little. “Yeah,” she says, with no intentions of teasing him or leading him on. She gives a little shrug, smirking along with it. “Besides, it’s… also my birthday. Just so you know.”

“Today?” His full attention is on her, now, even forgetting about the fry that was halfway to his mouth.

“Tuesday, but since it’s a weekday, we’re celebrating tonight.” The wheels are turning behind those tired eyes and she knows she almost has him. “You can tell me about how you finished this chapter when you get to the bar tonight.”

“Maybe,” he says, but there are cracks in the facade he’s trying to hold onto.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.” Last Friday comes back to mind, and she thinks this may just be the start of a routine or something now if he keeps this up. 

“It’s not a no either, Swan,” he says with a smile that she’s beginning to recognize as the same she gets on her face when she thinks about him. She is so screwed. 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, standing from her chair and flippantly tossing the trash from her dinner into the wastebasket by his desk. “See you later.” She winks when she says it, and his responding smile gives away that he’ll definitely be there. 

-x- October 18: Friday

Fifteen minutes after Emma gets to the bar, she finally orders her drink. She knows Killian will show, but it’s a matter of how much longer. The drink has barely been in front of her for thirty seconds when she hears the door open and close again. She doesn’t even flinch when he appears by her elbow and orders his usual. 

With a casual glance, she sees that he’s still in his suit and tie. He looks a little ruffled from the long day, but even at what she’s sure is a rough state, he still looks like she’d like to kiss him. That thought isn’t new, but the intensity of it is.

“What a surprise to see you, Jones.” She takes a sip of her drink before she looks at him again. 

He’s shaking his head, looking like he’s trying not to smile but she gets to watch the grin fully bloom as he fails to keep a straight face. He glances around the empty tables where everyone usually congregates. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, I told Will that you wouldn’t go out unless we went to Aesop’s Tables. So I assume that’s where he is. And David and Snow had plans tonight.”

“Trying to get me alone, Swan?”

“I figured you could use a night to decompress without Will challenging you to a chugging contest.”

“You’re a savior, you know that?”

“I’ve been called that once or twice,” she admits, grabbing her drink and standing from the barstool. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah. Decompress. I have darts. You have a long week to put behind you. We both have good, strong drinks. Let’s go.”

He still looks baffled by the whole thing, and Emma’s not really sure why she’s so intent on trying to get him to loosen up, besides the fact that he’s one of the most put-together people she’s ever met and to see him a little disheveled is… kinda nice. She turns him and nudges him towards the other end of the bar where the dartboards are set up.

“Oh!” Killian stops in his tracks in front of her for a second and turns around. “What about your birthday?”

“What about it?”

“You said you were supposed to celebrate tonight.”

Emma fights with the smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t have plans,” he says, the words tinted with a bit of confusion, but it’s definitely a statement. 

“Nope,” she says, popping the last consonant. “C’mon. Tell me about your book thing.” She gets him moving again with a gentle jab to the middle of his chest. 

And he does. As soon as they settle into a rhythm at the boards, Killian goes through the general premise of the twist on fairy tales. His arms are constantly moving as he talks, something that Emma finds fascinating. The impressive part is how he can do that and still throw without really concentrating. Sometimes, however, that doesn’t mean the throw is good.

“I haven’t played in a while,” he confesses after his first dart ends up on the floor and the second ends up embedded in the light cover above the board.

“Mmmhmm. Keep telling yourself that’s the reason,” Emma teases, collecting the darts and hitting three numbers she needs.

The game progresses with ease, however, and they keep up a steady conversation with the music buffering them from the other patrons and conversations. Round 1 ends up going to Emma. 

“He still has one detail I wouldn’t have written if it were my book,” he tells her when they’re deep in round two. 

“Oh?”

“There’s the ever-present failsafe: True Love’s Kiss.”

“And why wouldn’t you have written that into the stories?”

“Because if these are twisted tales, why should that be the save-all? Case in point, what if it were a curse instead of the fixer?”

“What do you mean?” She takes her throw, but it’s a bad shot. She’s officially more interested in what he’s saying so her game is going to shit.

“Bear with me a moment. In most stories, that kiss is the thing that fixes everything, breaks the curse, completes someone, etc. etc.”

She nods as she takes a sip of her drink which is slowly becoming more water than alcohol from the ice melting. It’s clear he’s on a roll, both in telling the story and with the darts. With the first throw, he hits the triple 20. 

“So if I were to meet and kiss my true love, in Henry’s version, I would live happily ever after. But if I were the one twisting the fairy tales, my true love would turn into a hand. The thing that would literally complete me, so to speak.” The second dart hits the outer ring of single 19, leaving him with one more dart and only needing the double bullseye to win the game. 

“Then I’d just be this poor, lonely bastard with a reminder of this great love I was owed and instead have a hand to carry around at all times.” The dart goes flying, sinking into the middle of the board with ease. He spins, his look of disbelief fighting with the full-blown smile taking over his face. All Emma can do is laugh. 

“One hell of an ending, Jones,” she says, not sure if she’s talking about the game or the curse. “But for the record, I hope you don’t think that a missing limb makes you any less whole.”

He’s at the dartboard collecting the darts when she says it, and he leaves two of them on the board as he comes back to the table they’re set up at. She’s surprised the words even came out of her mouth, unsure of where the need to tell him that came from. 

“I did once, after it first happened. I was young and suddenly down one hand, discharged from the Navy because of it, and had no direction.”

“How did you find your way again?” 

It’s so close to home. She thinks about being 18 and alone in Tallahassee, trying to find any way she could to make money to get back to David and Storybrooke without breaking down and asking him for money.

“Mostly with the help of my brother, Liam. He kept me moving forward when I wanted to slide down the hill.”

“That’s one of the perks of having a brother,” Emma says, clearing her throat and taking a sip from her drink. 

“It certainly is,” he replies. Sensing the shift in tone, Killian offers to refresh their drinks. 

“Sure. But light on the vodka in this one.”

While he’s getting the drinks, she shakes off the memories. Maybe she should share with him that they have more in common than a route to work, but she also thinks that can be saved for another time. Because although they still haven’t exchanged numbers or full back-stories, she feels like this is all much bigger than a morning routine, now. 

They throw for best out of five. In the end, Killian is the victor of their mini-tournament. 

“Re-beginner’s luck,” Killian tells her as they settle their tabs and wish Jefferson a goodnight.

When they step outside, they start a slow, meandering walk back towards their homes. The October wind picks up, whipping her hair around her face and forcing her to zip her jacket up all the way. Without meaning to, Emma ends up huddled against Killian’s side, trying to escape the bitter wind. Somehow in the mix, she also ends up holding onto his arm, enjoying the way the fabric of his suit jacket feels beneath her fingertips. There’s a little smile on his face when she glances up at him, and when his eyes meet hers she can’t help but notice the way a quiet affection shines through. 

They don’t talk much, mostly about the nothings that get lost in the mundane details of their day, like how she’ll start driving the Bug again soon when it gets colder. At this, Killian seems to deflate a little, and she realizes that it’ll bring an end to their walks down the street until the weather warms up again.

“But that’s not for another couple weeks,” she says, trying to make up for the fact that yeah, eventually she won’t be up for frigid commutes to the station in the snow. It’s not until she glances around that she realizes they’ve walked all the way back to her apartment complex. “Oh. This is me,” she says, pointing with her free hand up at the modest building. “I didn’t mean to make you walk this far out of your way.”

“I’m always happy to escort Storybrooke’s finest,” he mentions. “And thank you for getting me to relax tonight. I’d probably still be in that bloody office if it weren’t for you.”

“Or be three sheets to the wind thanks to Will.”

“Again, you’ve saved me in multiple ways today, Swan.”

“And yet, this was my birthday celebration and you got me no gift.”

With a glint in his eyes, Killian sways just the tiniest bit closer. “Only one gift I’ve got to offer,” he says, his index finger going from nervously rubbing a spot behind his ear to tapping his lips twice, the smile that overtakes those lips knowing and teasing and everything she’s wanted to kiss since he touched her hand that first time. 

“Please,” Emma says, her voice dipping low. “You couldn’t handle it.” Even so, she’s moving closer without really meaning to, magnetically pulled towards his body in ways she can’t even explain. 

“Perhaps you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” he retorts, holding eye contact with her the whole time. 

It’s a challenge. And she doesn’t like backing down from a challenge. 

Her eyes shift between his for a second more, and then she’s hauling him towards her by the lapels on his suit jacket. Their mouths connect, both anticipating, both going for it like there’s a prize for who wrecks the other more. Back and forth they go with who leads and who takes, coming up for air twice in the process, until they’re both breathing heavily and she has to hold onto him to steady herself for an extra second. 

“That was…” he mutters, his voice low.

They sway closer one more time and Emma’s pretty sure he’s going to kiss her again, but suddenly, the flight instinct takes over. She can’t like him. Can’t let him in. With barely a glance up, she decides to ruin the only good thing she’s had going for a while.

“A one time thing. Goodnight, Killian.” She says it with pain in her voice as she gently untangles herself from his embrace. It takes a lot of effort to command her own fingers to let go of his coat lapels and start walking away. 

She doesn’t turn back, doesn’t want to see the look on his face that she knows is the same one on hers. Because they only walk together for part of their daily commutes. Nothing more. More is what leaves her in the middle of the night. More is what falls for her and dies in her arms. More is a lying, cheating asshole.

The door to the building closes firmly behind her, cutting off “more” before it even begins.

 -x-

Chapter 3

[whumphoarder]

⭐️?

You Broke Tony was originally going to be told from Peter’s POV instead of Tony’s, but I decided to change it so that we see more of Tony’s confusion and less of Peter’s anxiety, giving it a more lighthearted feel.

If you’re interested, I still have the original draft from Peter’s POV:

“Hey FRIDAY?” Peter called out tentatively as he limped into the entryway of the building. He was hesitant to move any further. “Is Mr. Stark home?”

Her voice answered immediately. “Yes, Peter. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark of your presence?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment and Peter assumed she was relaying the information. “Boss says he’s working on something in the lab but to let yourself in and that there are those pudding cups you like in the fridge. Butterscotch, since you’re 16 going on 80.”

“Oh, uh, tell him thanks. But I’m kinda… messy.” He looked down at the white marble he was currently staining crimson. Dizziness washed over him and he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Do you know if Mr. Stark has any old towels I can borrow? Ones that can get stained?”

“There is an ample supply of towels in the linen closet at the end of the hall, to the right of the first guest bathroom.”

“Oh.” Peter glanced down at his soaked Spider-Man suit, and then behind him at trail of sticky red footprints. “That’s really far away.”

“Do you require assistance, Peter?” the AI asked.

Peter wasn’t exactly known for taking people up on their offers of help, so his instinct was to say no, thanks, he would be fine. But realization was hitting that even if he could manage to limp to the linen closet on his throbbing ankle without incident, it would only make an even bigger mess. He figured he was in enough trouble as it was. “Um… maybe,” he admitted.

The AI was quiet a moment again before responding, “Mr. Hogan is on his way.”

Peter acknowledged the information with a grunt. The headache he’d had since being slammed into the store counter earlier was ramping up now. He wanted to lean against the wall, but he couldn’t bear the thought of messing up Mr. Stark’s pristine walls as well as his floor. He settled for carefully lowering himself down on the entryway floor and letting his head rest on his knees.

It was several minutes before Happy stepped out of the elevator, carrying two towels and looking pissed as always. “Not sure why you think I’m your butler now,” he grumbled as he approached, “but FRIDAY said you needed…” Happy’s eyes went wide and he froze midstep. “Aw, shit! What did you do?!” 

“Wha..?” Peter had started to doze off in the time he’d been waiting. He lifted his head and blinked at the gaping man. “Oh, hey Happy. How’s it going? Sorry about all this...” he rambled.

But Happy wasn’t listening. He closed the distance between himself and Peter quickly while ordering at the AI, “Tell Tony to get his ass up here ASAP. Code red—the kid’s in trouble.” Dropping the towels to his side, he bent down and grabbed Peter firmly by the shoulders.

Trouble -- the word rang in Peter’s aching head. The last time he was in trouble with Mr. Stark, he gotten his suit taken from him. Peter was panicking now. His head felt fuzzy and his words were coming out slightly slurred. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I’ll clean it up, please don’t be mad!” He reached for a towel, but Happy swatted his hand away.

“Shut up and hold still, kid,” Happy barked. His hands were running over Peter’s body now, patting him down like he was searching for something, which Peter thought was strange. When he touched the lump on the back of Peter’s head, the kid let out a hiss.

“That hurts?” Happy questioned. “Did you hit your head?” 

Peter nodded. In a small voice, he asked, “Is Mr. Stark gonna be mad?”

“I’d say that’s a good possibility,” Happy replied curtly.

Peter hid his face back in his arms and moaned softly, internally cursing himself for coming to the tower in the first place. If not for this stupid headache, he was sure he could have figured out a better solution than involving Tony, but the day’s events had left him not exactly firing on all cylinders. 

Just then, Mr. Stark came bursting out of the elevator doors, still dressed in the grimy old jeans and T-shirt that he only wore in his workshop. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he swore. In a few quick strides, he was kneeling at Peter’s side, his eyes scanning Peter up and down. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter whimpered. “I’ll clean everything, I swear, I jus-”

“What. The hell. Happened.”

It was the same scarily calm voice that Tony had used on the ferry. All of sudden Peter was back on the dock, getting chewed out by the one person he looked up to most. “Th-There was a mugging,” he tried to explain. His throat felt tight and his eyes stung. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I tried to stop him but-”

“Where are you hurt?” Tony demanded. He pressed the spider insignia on the front of Peter’s suit and the fabric loosened around him.

Both Tony and Happy were working now to pull the suit off him, and all Peter could think was that Spider-Man was being taken from him again, right here in the lobby. He kept rambling, tears slipping out now, “I’m so sorry about the mess and the suit and-

Mr. Stark paused. “Hey, hey, look at me, kid.” Tony touched Peter’s chin and tilted it up to him. Peter blinked at him. The anger that he had expected to see in his mentor’s eyes wasn’t there. Instead, there was fear. “I don’t give a shit about the floor or the suit. I need to know where you’re hurt.”

Happy spoke up. “He’s got a head injury, but I don’t think that’s where the blood is coming from.”

“Then where is it coming from?” Tony shot back.

Peter frowned, confused. Blood? Was he bleeding? Looking down at himself, something finally clicked in the teenager’s addled brain and he realized why everyone was so upset.

“Guys, this isn’t my blood,” Peter said simply.

Both men stiffened immediately. “Whose is it?” Happy asked, looking horrified. 

Peter shook his head. “No, no, sorry! I mean it’s not anyone’s! It’s not real.” The adults looked unconvinced so Peter licked the arm of his suit, staining his tongue bright red. “See? It’s like colored corn syrup and glycerin or something.”

The two men relaxed, but only for a millisecond. 

Tony was the first back on the offensive. “Alright, we are backing the fuck up here. Then why in god’s name are you sitting on the floor of my lobby covered in fake blood? Because if this is some kind of prank…”

“Not a prank.” Peter closed his eyes and groaned softly. He took a deep breath. “I was on patrol. There was a mugging going on in the alley between Walgreens and… uh, you know those temporary stores that pop up around Halloween and sell costumes and decorations and stuff?”

“Yeah, go on,” Tony prompted.

“One of those,” Peter continued. “Anyway I tried to web the guy up but my web-shooter jammed and he got away and ran into the costume store. So I ran in after him but he had a gun and-“

“Did he shoot you?” Tony interrupted.

“Well, he tried but-”

Immediately, Tony started trying to pull the suit off again and find whatever injury Peter was hiding.

“No, no Mr. Stark, he missed!” Peter said quickly. “But when I jumped out of the way, I sorta crashed into this display shelf and knocked a bin over, which was full of these little plastic bags. And then I landed on them so some of them burst open...”

“Let me guess.” Tony sighed exasperatedly. “Fake blood.”

“It was everywhere,” Peter said miserably. “Kinda hit my head on the counter too…” He ran his fingers over the lump on his skull, wincing.

(A/N: You’ll note at this moment in that a wild Bruce appears. I do not know where he came from and he did not make it to later drafts of this story lmao)

Bruce frowned and tilted Peter’s chin up towards him. With the other hand, he held up a finger and traced sideways across the teenager’s line of sight. Peter tried to follow with his gaze, but it only made him feel dizzier. Bruce pulled a penlight from his chest pocket and shined it at the boy’s eyes.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Tony asked.

“I’ll preface this by reminding you I’m still not a medical doctor…” Bruce began. 

Tony waved his hand indicating he should go on.

“Pupils are blown, and he’s having a hard time tracking. I’m guessing mild to moderate concussion, but we should get him to Medbay and run a CT to be sure.”

Tony nodded. “FRIDAY, be sure to alert a real doctor of that and send someone up from medical with a stretcher.”

“Right away, sir,” the AI replied.

“Mr. Stark, I can walk-“

“Finish your story, Pete,” Tony cut him off.

Peter closed his eyes and obeyed. “The blood was all over and I think the guy thought he’d hit me because he started running back out. So I jumped up and webbed him — it worked this time. And then I webbed the gun up too and left them both for the cops.”

“What about your ankle?” Bruce questioned.

Peter blushed. “Oh. Uh, on my way out I sorta… slipped.” 

“You slipped?” Tony clarified.

Dropping his gaze to his feet, Peter muttered, “...On the blood.”

At this detail, Tony let out a snort of amusement. He quickly turned it into a cough though, as both Happy and Bruce shot him disapproving looks. “Sorry, kid,” he said through coughs. With a smirk, he added, “But you gotta admit that is a fantastic image.”

Peter only groaned in response.

I much prefer the vibe of the story from Tony’s POV, but Happy was fun to write in this and he sadly got the cut :(

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

[rogue-barnes-16]

I'M A MONSTER

Summary: Y/n knew for a fact that Wanda was definitely not doing well when it came to dates. After a particular rough night, Y/n finds out the reason for what had been happening.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, angst, makeout session

A/N: —

"Morning" I greeted the three members of the Avengers who were doing nothing but chill in the leisure room.

"Mornin' doll" Bucky replied without looking up from his laptop.

Clint gave me a quick glance before redirecting his whole attention to the TV show he was watching. "You look terrible."

"Thank you very much." I replied sarcastically, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. "it's Steve's fault, by the way." Bucky asked an intrigued 'how so', to which I responded. "had to train with him because someone didn't show up this morning, right Wan?"

The brunette witch, who hadn't even spared me a brief look, nor a single word, flickered her gaze to my form. "Sorry."

"what happened?" I asked, keeping it cool.

I didn't want her to realize I had heard her cry until she fell asleep the night before, right after she had come back from another date.

I didn't want her to know I was worried sick about something I wasn't supposed to know, so I kept it cool.

"Nothing," she shrugged turning the page of her book without making eye contact with anyone in the room. "I was just not in the mood."

"Wait what the fuck?" my eyes traveled to the archer. "Wanda, this doesn't work like that." Clint scolded her. "You gotta train every day, it's not about being 'in the mood', this is your job."

"Clint, give her a break." I tried to get in the middle and cool things down after seeing the way Wanda started to fidget with her ring, just like she did every time she was anxious or uncomfortable. "it was a one time thing."

"It wasn't." Bucky spoke, giving me a look before turning his gaze to Wanda. "I really hate to lecture you, but Barton's right." Wanda's green eyes looked for aid in mines, but I wasn't sure of how to help her. You've been skipping training on and off for two weeks, kid." she left the book aside and started pulling at her sleeves. "If you feel like you can't keep up with Y/n's rhythm, say it. Tony will change your partner but-"

She grabbed the book and, after abruptly getting up from the bed, Wanda stalked out of the room.

"what's gotten into her now?" Clint asked, rather worried.

"Dunno man." after Bucky’s reply to Clint's rhetorical question, the soldier's blue eyes lingered on my form, longer enough for me to notice. "Hey Y/n" When he called my attention, I knew he was onto something. "why don't you go and check on Maximoff?"

"Why would I?" I quietly asked whilst internally dying to sprint through the hall in order to reach Wanda's room.

Bucky waited an instant before answering me, in which he took the liberty of analyzing my body language. "You're the closest to the door." with a half grin playing in his lips, he turned back to the laptop.

Damn, he knew.

"I mean-" I cleared my throat, considering all my alternatives. "I think she just needs some time alone."

Nor Bucky, nor Clint turned around, but I could feel their confusion.

Despite my shocking reply, I wasn't actually lying.

Wanda was a very introverted girl, very sensitive. She had her own way of dealing with her own problems and, as much as I would love to help, her ways, more often than not, didn't include the girl who had fallen in love with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday night again.

Wanda had gone on a date again.

"you seem happy" I lazily commented, pretending I hadn't been stealing glances at her smile since that morning, when she received a message from a random stranger.

"Oh" she attempted to bit back a smile by chewing her lower lip. "Do I?" I turned around to see her struggling to zip up her dress. "Hey Y/n can you-"

"Hold on" I left the book I was reading aside and stepped towards her. "where ya going?" I questioned, parting her hair from her back.

"Uhm I have a..." I felt her, rather than heard her, sigh when my fingertips intentionally ghosted a line down from her neck to her bare low back before actually zipping her dress. "I have a date."

"Nice." I whispered, accommodating her long hair back in its initial place. "have fun and take care alright?" I struggled to pull my hands away from her.

"I will." she replied, turning around with beaming eyes that seemed to be waiting for something else from me. "don't worry."

I had been taking it out on one of the gym's punching bags for at least a couple of hours, until I was so tired that I couldn't walk, until I had no energy to keep hurting for things I would never say, until every feeling I had for Wanda had been shoved out of my body, at least for a while.

I was making my way to my room when I heard her crying again.

This time I was too tired to hold back, I was too tired to think about giving her space, and before I knew it, I was pushing open Wanda's room's door.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I tiredly asked, taking her completely off guard and, therefore, making her give me her back while she cleaned her tears.

"Nothing, I-I'm fine." she lamely lied.

"Wanda, don't even try, I'm not stupid." I replied, taking a few steps towards her. "almost every night you go out on a date, you come here crying."

She shook her head, slowly turning around, hugging herself. "That's not-"

"I swear on my life" I stared speaking, finally reaching her. "If those assholes are hurting you I'm gonna kill them one by fucking one."

"it's not like that." she muttered with trembling lips.

"what do you mean?"

"it's my fault" she choked up, finally making her green eyes, now glassy and bloodshot, dig into mines. "I'm a monster."

She let herself fall to the floor sat against the wall, straight up sobbing, and I couldn't do anything but stare blankly at her, barely starting to process what had just come out of her plump, rosy lips.

"Wanda" my voice sounded broken, but I couldn't help it. "Wanda, that's not true. What the fuck" I kneeled before her, caressing tenderly and reassuringly every part of her that I reached. "that's not fucking true. Wanda look at me. Wanda." I lifted her chin. "that's not fucking true."

"it is." she replied, sniffing with her eyes shut and her lips pursed in an attempt to stop the tears and the quivering. "you just don't wanna see it. No one--" hiccup. "no one here does b-but I know it's true."

"Wanda for fucks sake it's not true." I pulled her hands to get her to look at me because I was dying to show her how wrong that statement was, even if I wasn't sure yet of how I was going to show her. "Wanda please-- listen to me. Doesn't my opinion count or what the fuck?"

"It's- It's n-not like that it's-- I'm-- Y/n you don't... You see wh- only what you-- you don't see my dark side... I..." words came out of her stumbling as she tried to cover her face once more.

"Look at me!" I tugged her hands harder this time, in a way that she had no option but stare into my eyes, red from holding back the tears. "I don't fucking see your dark side? who the fuck was in Sokovia by your side when you lost it? Whose mind you played with the first time I met you?" the brunette's lip quivered again and I brought her closer. "You're not a monster."

"youjustsaythatbecauseyouloveme" the sentence came out of her so quick and chaotic that I almost didn't understand it.

Almost.

"I'm saying it because I know you." My voice finally shattered, trying to ignore the fact that she knew about my feelings for her —feelings that probably were unrequited— at the same time as I struggled to prove she was wrong. "You're loving, kind-hearted, empathic, amazing, trustful, funny, and I also see your damn flaws alright? But that's- that's not the point."

"then what's the point?" she muttered, tired and hurt.

She was looking for something in particular in my next reply, but I didn't take the cue.

No, no I didn't catch what she was looking for, because my mind was buzzing way too loud, not allowing me to notice that Wanda had just realized I may have feelings for her, feelings that mirrored hers.

"the... The point is that you- I--" I gripped her hands tight, as if the thoughts I couldn't put into words could be sent to her mind by our touch. "the point is that I'm gonna fucking kill whoever said this to you, 'cause-- 'cause I'm-- this-"

I fixed my eyes on hers, and still didn't catch a glimpse of her sudden desire for me to finally put my feelings into those three words.

I didn't catch that, but I didn't come to the conclusion that there was only a way I could somehow show her how wrong she was.

I gave both her hands one last tug and my lips attacked hers, desperate for making the witch feel loved, desperate to prove she wasn't a monster.

Tears kept streaming down my face, instantly being aware of the high chances of her rejecting me, but a thought crossed my mind that gave me strength not to pull away and run.

If someone has to be broken, better be me because of a truth, than her because of an ugly lie.

The chaos in my head stopped me from noticing the sob of relief that came out of Wanda, muffled by my lips, along with her shaky fingers holding onto my shirt as if it was the end of the world.

She pulled away and I prepared myself for the worst, already letting go of her arm and cheek.

To my surprise, in her eyes I saw what I had missed during the kiss, and I also saw love and desire.

She didn't hesitate before closing the gap between us by holding the sides of my neck, letting one of her hands travel to my hair to tug it slightly the moment our mouths reunited.

My hands pulled her hips to mine and sat her down on my lap. "I love you too" she mumbled between hungry kisses, unconsciously rocking her hips to mines. "I... I love you..."

The grip on her hips tightened enough to bruise her while a moan or two left my lips. "Wanda... Wait" I made her stop and, after pecking her lips I pulled away. "I need a shower first."

She nodded but didn't leave her spot.

"Wanda?"

"can I shower with you?" she asked shyly, looking down at her lap.

"of course" I replied kiss her jaw with a half smile. "let's go alright?"

[cevans16]

Thank You Bostonx - Chapter 4 ~ First Date

 -------Friday-------

You were very swamped at work as Opening Night was around the corner, the season had already started but it was going to be the first home game. You had been running around with various meetings throughout the day.

You were finishing up a report when you saw your phone was ringing, it was Chris.

“Hey Chris, sorry I’m running late” you said apologetically.

“No worries I figured uhmm if you want you can just let know when you get home,” “OH are you cancelling?”, you asked. “No no I’d rather you not rush so just let me know when you’re home so I can head over to pick you up,” he replied. “Okay, I’m almost done with this and I’ll update something else before I head home, thanks for understanding.” “Of course, I’ll see you soon, be safe”.

By the time you got home it was almost 8, you texted Chris you were home and jumped in the shower to get ready fast. You didn’t wash your hair so you just brushed it out and redid some waves and put on a natural makeup look. It was rather warm outside so you put on a baby blue summer dress and some sandals, you liked keeping it casual even if it was a date. By the time you were done the doorbell rang phew just in time you thought. You grabbed your purse and headed to the front door but when you opened it it wasn’t Chris, it was Jules. “Well don’t you look nice, where are YOU going?” he asked. “I have a date with Chris remember?”, “OH okay so you are going?”, “Yeah why wouldn’t I?”, “Honestly I thought you’d chicken out” he teased, you rolled your eyes. “Is everything okay Jules?”, “No yeah it’s all good, I was heading out with some buddies and wanted to see if you wanted to come,” he replied. “Oh well maybe next time ?”, “Of course, have fun with Chris but not too much fun” he winked, “and if you do, I support you, just be safe and know you deserve to be happy” he said as he gave you a hug. “Awww thanks Jules,” you said as you hugged him back. You noticed Chris pulling up to your house, “I gotta go, love you Jules“, “Love you too, hey Chris, have her home before midnight” he joked causing Chris to chuckle and you to roll your eyes again. Chris got out of his car to open the door for you, “your chariot awaits princess,” “ew stop Chris,” you laughed but thought it was sweet he opened the door for you.

“So are you hungry or in mood for ice cream?” he asked, “Hmmmmm both”, “Welp Italian restaurant it is,” he said as he started driving. You guys kept small-talk as he drove into downtown Boston and arrived at a cute small Italian place. You were sat in the back of the restaurant as the waitress took your order, you can tell she was trying not to be nervous over Chris, you thought it was cute. “Well you look very nice today (Y/N)” he said as he looked over to you. “thanks you as well and you smell great too,” you said. Chris had dressed casually too but took his hat off when you guys sat down. You both weren’t sure what to get so you decided to order appetizers and split them. You were in heaven as Italian food was your favorite.

“So California girl huh, what brought you to Boston?” Chris asked. “I got a job out here, well I kind of always wanted to live here for a bit since I’ve always thought it was beautiful. I got a job with the Pats and interned with the Sox, then I got a higher position with the Bruin,” you explained. “Don’t miss home at all?” “I really do but I knew if I didn’t do this I’d regret it one day, but Jules helped me out because he’s from California too.” “So you and Jules dated right?” “Yeah we met when I first started working with the Pats and he tried to secretly date me but I knew it wasn’t a good idea at all so I told him we should try to be friends, on my last day there he chased me outside to ask me out,” you said as you chuckled to the memory. “So what happened? If you don’t mind me asking”, “We went on a few dates but it just didn’t feel right, I guess we were better off as friends, so what about you? I mean I know you’re from here but how are you single?”, “Just haven’t met the right one” he replied. You guys kept talking about your lives and eating, until you noticed everyone had pretty much gone home. “Ohh I think we should get going” you said as you looked around. “Yeah, didn’t think it was this late already.” Chris paid and you guys were off back home, somehow the drive felt comfortable with Chris.

Chris walked you back to your door, “I had a nice time with you (Y/N)”, “I did too, thanks again for dinner and driviing me and being patiend with me being out late from work,” you babble on, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, “look Chris I really appreciate it but if you’re only here to sleep with me that’s not going to happen, I don’t want my time wasted” you explained. Chris seemed a bit annoyed, “look I understand but I wouldn’t have been talking to you for this long if that’s all I wanted, I want to take you out on another date.” he explained.

“Okay, see you soon then” you smiled, “See you soon” he replied as he gave you a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home safe please.”.

Text: Just got home, can’t wait to see you again”

[kurly-quill]

Robin’s Nest Cafe (part 1)

So, here goes nothing! This will probably have more than one part, but will likely be non-chronological. 

Pairings: JayTim, maybe future JayDickTim 

Rating: Mature for Language [for now] 

Coffee Shop AU (sort of), Civilian!Tim (mostly?)

         Part 1 - Part 2

(1) Hot Chocolate

The first thing to know about Gothamites, is that they are objectively, irrevocably rude as fuck.

It’s not like New York City, where people bustle past without so much as a nod of acknowledgement because they have somewhere to be and don’t have time for pleasantries, or the aggressive shoving on the metro in Tokyo, or God forbid, like Metropolis, where people born past 1930 still tip their hats at passerby.

No, the average Gothamite would see you, without an umbrella, soaking wet, and shake their umbrella off on you on the way inside. If you gave up your seat to an elderly Gothamite on the train, they would sooner say fuck you than thank you. If you tried to mug a Gothamite, they would probably punch you in the face and steal your wallet, because, hell, you’d be the fifth person to try it this week.

And Tim, for all of his “good breeding” and “respectable upbringing” is, at his very core, a Gothamite.

His smile is so wide that he’s baring teeth, and while it doesn’t match the snarl on the face across from him, it’s no less able to convey the sheer amounts of fuck you very much, have a fucktastic day!!

“I ain’t sayin’ it again -” the man bellows, spit hitting Tim’s face and, ew, probably his lips too, “- give me the money inna register ‘afore things get ugly!”

His eyes glimmer with the sharpness of the icicles hanging outside along the shop window, barely sparing the knife shaking under his chin a second glance.

It’s 11 pm on Friday night, and the cafe is still open because Gotham never really sleeps and Tim lives above the shop, anyway. Behind Knife Guy, there’s a few people in line, displaying varying degrees of concern.

(1- was born in a Gotham alleyway, please if you’re going to stab the cashier just do it I’ll pour the coffee myself, 5 - been in Gotham for awhile, kinda worried but Killer Croc smashed my car last week and I just really need a coffee, 10 - visiting Gotham for the first time this weekend-- and the last time.)

Tim looks skyward, praying for strength. There are cobwebs up there he’s never noticed.

“Sorry, the money in the register is a seasonal flavor. But hey, bright side, we’ve just got peppermint mocha back in, so I can ring you up for that instead?”

Knife Guy gapes for a second, squinting at Tim like he expects him to start tap dancing any second now. Tim raises a brow, patient. With a frustrated snarl, the knife jolts forward enough that it clicks against Tim’s nametag, chipping at the edge of the black and yellow batman sticker beside his name, which is his favorite sticker so excuse you.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. Either you put away the knife and order a peppermint mocha with christmas tree sprinkles, and we pretend this never happened, or we do it the less fun way, with the GCPD. Who are a total buzzkill, by the way, believe me. Your choice.”

There’s an eye-twitch, and a change in the man’s expression that makes Tim’s finely-honed Gotham instincts go “oh damn, here we go”, when someone opens up the front door with far too much strength, the glass rattling with the force of its inward swing. The freezing night wind billows in, the scent of oil and snow filtering through the warmer scents of the cafe. There’s an unceremonious tinkle of the bell dangling on the doorframe, and beneath it stands another man.

Tim stares. Knife Guy stares. One of the customers looks up from her phone, groans long and loud, grabs her triple-espresso hazelnut latte with caramel drizzle, and walks out into the late-November chill.

The Red Hood holds the door open for her, because he’s a fucking gentleman.

The door swinging shut with another tinkle, and there’s a pause filled only with catchy holiday jingles that have been playing over the radio since September. Hood surveys the scene before strolling toward the counter.

“Damn, lemme tell ya, it’s cold as fuckin’ balls out there,” Hood laments, with absolutely zero prompting, rubbing his hands together as though he’d gain any friction through the gauntlets. He stops just short of where Tim and Knife Guy are facing off, the blade hovering threateningly in the air just under Tim’s chin. Hood cocks his head.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?”

Tim takes a quick second to make sure that, if he opens his mouth, his jaw won’t hit the floor, before he replies, “Just regular customer service in Gotham. Hope you’re not here for the money in the register too - We’re fresh out of stock. Moving onto the Winter Menu, you know?”

Hood nods, making what sounds like an understanding hum through the voice synthesizers, “Some people just never check the website. Read you’ve got a mean gingerbread latte on special.”

Tim would respond, except now the knife is shaking to a worrying degree– Knife Guy is scared shitless, because the Red Hood is nearly shoulder-to-shoulder– or, well, shoulder-to-bicep with him, because the man is huge and smells very distinctly of cigarette smoke and blood. Tim would sympathize if he wasn’t having an internal fangasm to end all fangasms at this moment.

In a display of panic-borne, truly ballsy stupidity (unfortunately, also a common trait amongst Gothamites, particularly the ones that rob cafes at knife-point at just the hour the Bats tend to come out), Knife Guy whips the knife to the side to turn on the vigilante.

Hood’s got the knife out of the guy’s hand in an instant– Tim has just enough reflexes to grab the steaming cup of caffeine goodness that’s sitting innocently in harm’s way– and in the next second he’s grabbing the guy by the hair and slamming his head backwards onto the counter, spine bent at an angle that makes the onlookers flinch. A few more scurry out the door. There are other places to get a caffeine fix.

“Look here,” Hood growls, No-Knife Guy going cross-eyed as the knife points straight at his nose, “I ain’t lookin for a side of stitches with my candy cane hot chocolate with heavy cream, ya feel me?”

Mr. No Knife squeals.

“P-Please– I’m sorry, I’ll go! Promise! Just– fuck, l-lemme go!”

Hood’s head makes a minute motion, somehow conveying sheer exasperation despite the helmet (Though Tim can just feel the eye-roll going on). He drags the wannabe-robber up to his feet, though it’s pretty useless seeing as the guy’s knees give out they’re shaking so hard– and, oh dude, gross, that’s definitely a wet spot in the front of his jeans there. Tim’s nose wrinkles. He better not have to mop that up.

Hood pays the fact that he’s basically holding up all the man’s weight one-armed no mind, dragging him to the front of the shop. The bell chimes merrily as he gives the guy a literal kick in the ass out the door. The guy lands face-first in dirty, oily, Gothamy snow. An eight year old kicks him as she walks past, hand-in-hand with her father to the nearest bus stop. That Uptown Gotham charm, amiright?

“You’re just lucky I’m feeling the holiday fucking spirit right now– Plus, no offense,” a quick appraisal, “you’re kinda pathetic.”

And then Hood closes the door.

But he’s still here.

Tim looks around the shop. Apparently, at some point in the last 2 minutes, the rest of the customers have decided that they really don’t have time for the typical Bat-dramatics today and fucked off to another cafe. Tim should be more upset about the loss in business than he is, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind.

Because the Red Hood (It’s him, it’s really him) is still standing there. In the cafe.

 With Tim.

He glances down at his chest to make sure the knife isn’t actually buried there, because the possibility that he’s died makes more sense than the Red Hood standing in his cafe, surrounded by a horrific mash-up of dollar-store Hannukah and Christmas (because his family is technically Jewish even if they didn’t celebrate jack shit, and Steph took the shitty plastic menorah on top of the espresso machine as a challenge).

“Um,” Tim remarks, scrambling for the words he wants to say to one of his childhood heros, “So, can I get you something? I feel like I should get you something. Cause I mean. This is an establishment that supports vigilantism, okay? Robin’s Nest cafe, at your service. At least a 10% discount, just like military. Just putting it out there.”

Right. So where is that knife again? Can’t speak if he doesn’t have vocal chords.

The vigilante makes a sound through the synths in his helmet that must be a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. He moves back up to the counter with movements far too fluid for someone of his size, and Tim swallows a bit as he’s forced to look up (and up) at close proximity. Wow, the helmet is something else– he’s itching to get his hands on it, take it apart and see all its functions and how it was made.

“Gotta first aid kit?” is almost lost to Tim, he’s so mesmerized – he thinks distantly that he’s probably looking a little manic, cause he’s running on caffeine and spite, and people have always told him that his tendency to hyperfocus is unnerving on a good day – but then the words click. He frowns.

“Yes, we do? He didn’t get you with the knife, did he?” he questions, eyes raking up and down Hood’s leather jacket for any telling rips or tears.

Hood tuts, reaching up to tap at his neck, “Nah, not me, but you’re ‘bout to need a new white shirt.”

Tim mimics the movement on autopilot, clapping his hand to the side of his neck and feeling the stickiness there. His heart jumps for a second as he pulls back his hand and sees enough blood there to wonder how he’d missed it.

“Oh. Damn.”

And that’s how, five minutes later, Tim’s got the doors to the cafe locked and finds himself sitting in the break room with the Red Hood dabbing at his neck with a cotton swab.

If he finally manages to overdose on caffeine tonight, he thinks he could go happily.

Hood’s so close that Tim’s 100% sure the vigilante can feel his heart trying to burst all his arteries by its sheer pumping force. He’s getting light-headed because he’s trying not to be creepy and do something like smell the the tall, buff guy with gentle hands (Cause, God, somehow the scent of cigarettes, leather, and gunmetal just work for him) and has thus forgone taking any deep breaths.

“Lucky you, s’not deep,” are the only words either of them has said since he plopped down on the table. Tim hesitates for a second, watching Hood close the first aid kit and step away, before he clears his throat.

Courage, Tim. Come on, you’re from Gotham.

“So. Thanks. For all that, I mean.”

Hood shrugs.

“Eh, there are worse ways to start the night. Plus, it’s way warmer in here than out there. Wasn’t kidding when I walked in– was gettin fucking blue balls out there, and not even from anything fun this time.”

Tim lets out a surprised laugh.

“Oh? Well, I think I have a way to warm you up.”

There’s amusement in every line of Hood’s shoulders as he tilts his head, becoming increasingly intrigued by this particularly bold civilian. When he speaks, there’s a definite purr there, mechanized though it is. Something prickly hot shoots down Tim’s spine, and he has to fight down a flush.

“Yeah? You got something in mind?”

Tim can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Let me guess. Hot chocolate with heavy cream?”

“Shut your shittin’ mouth, Dick.”

.

.

.

.

“…. It’s got candy cane flavor in it”

[benbarnesescape]

Rules

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap that willy), bad language. If you’re not 18 you gotta go to the kids table until you are (sorry ‘tis the law)

A/N: This was inspired by Dua Lipa’s song Rules and for @starless-skyox for my B. Russo prompt challenge. I had to write vulnerable Billy even if he’s an asshole. There’s just something about men who you know aren’t good for you….

“Oh Billy…”

Your nails claw down his back as your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him deeper into you. Both your sex fills his nostrils as he bites down on your neck, catching that sensitive area of skin that has you moaning out his name in approval.

You both had been fooling around for months. It had started out as something casual. An old friend of Curtis, Billy knew of you. Knew that Curtis would do anything for you just like you would do anything for him. You both had grown up in the old neighborhood together. When Curtis had introduced you both to meet for quick drinks at happy hour one Friday night, one drink became two drinks which became karaoke, then dancing, followed by street shawarma with more drinks.

When you had woken up in his bed the next morning – you had been petrified. You were married. Sure, your husband was dull and boring. Sure, the sex was bad. Sure, maybe you had married him because it was your mothers dying wish before she gave into the cancer that had been killing her for years. Cheating was cheating. You told him such.

That was of course, after you had fucked him senseless on his kitchen counter. Before you had sucked him off so good, he had almost passed out from his orgasm.

Yet you still called and when you did, he was more than eager to meet you.

You were both addicted to each other. Sex was just sex.

You had even defined three rules to ensure that it stayed that way. To ensure that this just stayed sex – nothing emotional. Just sex.

That was what he told himself as he felt your body shake under his own, feeling the way your walls fluttered around his cock as you bite your lip, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy before he released himself in you, his body shaking just as uncontrollably as your own.

It was just sex.

You both lay together in your post coitus bliss, his head laying gently on your chest before you’re pushing him away softly. Too soon.

“Told Bryon I was running to the store for ice-cream and now I have to come up with an excuse to why I’m late.”

You swing out of bed all too quickly, looking around the room for your underwear and jeans.

“Run to the corner mart.”

You snort as you shimmy into the tough material, before you’re scurrying around for your bra.

“Think I haven’t already figured that out.”

Billy smiles before he turns his head, watching you as you throw your shirt on before walking to the mirror in his room. You give an internal sigh at your hair, fresh from sex, before tugging on the hair tie around your wrist as you pull your hair into a ponytail.

He catches your eye in his mirror and your lips tug into a soft smile as you watch each other. Then you shake your head, turning around before saying,

“You know I can’t stay.”

“Never asked you too.”

You walk up to the bed, bending down to place a soft kiss on his lips before whispering,

“Maybe not this time.”

He pulls you down to him, his hands finding your waist easily and you giggle into his mouth as your weight falls on top of him, before his lips are skimming down your neck.

“Say halfway to the store you got called into work. Stay a little longer.”

“Billy…” You groan as you pull away and he sighs, his head falling into the crevice of your neck.  

Rule # 1 – you don’t stay the night. 

You were crystal clear about that. Never bended on it, not after that first time. Yet he pushed.

He always pushed.

He had missed the way it felt to wake up to another warm body, inhaling the way your shampoo filled his nostrils with his arm wrapped over your body, warming you up.

Not because he had feelings. He just wanted to feel that way again. Feel like there was someone else in the world who gave a damn about him.

“Or I could wait for you to call me when you’re ready to be fucked the right way again.” He sighs, pulling away from you and you cast your head to the left, your eyes considering him before saying,

“How about lunch a few days from now? There’s this great new French restaurant that opened by your job. We can have lunch then dessert and that way you don’t have to feel like a used sex slave.”

Billy laughs, trying to bite away the excitement building in his gut. Trying to deny the fact that you never wanted to do something casual, like go to lunch or go out and be seen with him and that he was far too excited to spend time with you outside of bed. Instead, he does what he always does as he caresses your face tenderly. He hides behind a lie.  

“You can always get your husband to buy your meals.”

You nod, rolling off of him,

“I could. But I’d rather this time you do. You are the one, after all, benefiting from dessert.”

You kiss him one last time before pulling from his arms, walking to his bedroom door. You give a small wave,

“Au revoir amore.”

And then you’re gone, like you always are, the faint smell of your perfume the only evidence that you were fever around.

Lunch took too long. When you had shown up to the restaurant, a phone held to your ear as you maneuvered through the intimate space, he knew he was done for. The dark gray dress hitting your curves in all the right places, teasing your cleavage behind the designer blazer he might as well threw in the towel now.  When he saw you, typically in tight jeans and leggings, hair thrown up as you laughed with him you were casual. Light hearted. Fun. The kind of fun girl you imagine taking home and fucking for hours.

Now you were like a runaway model, demanding the room of your presence as you strolled power walked into the room. You walked with confident purpose as you neared him, a large smile on your face as you held up a finger, speaking into the phone at a rapid pace in what was either Arabic or Armenian. His ear was rusty, hadn’t been abroad in a while.  

“What is it that you do again?” he asks naively, aware for the first time that you knew too much about his life but he knew too little of your own.

“I work for the U.N. International Relations Manager. Means you translate and keep the kids away from each other when they get into a bad fight. And hello to you too.” You placed a kiss on his lips that lingers for too long. You’re both aware of it as you pull away, blinking at him.

Neither of you refuse to accept it.

“Got you flowers.”

His hands idly go to the bouquet of tiger lilies to the left of him and your twitch up into a smile as you threw a napkin over your lap, taking the gift and inhaling them softly.

“How’d you know tiger lilies were my favorite?”

He leans back in his chair, thrumming his hand against the table as a waiter comes, asking for your drink order. Billy takes a cool sip of the whiskey he’s already been sipping, trying to navigate his next answer.

“You mentioned them a month back. When we were attempting to watch a movie.”

“You were listening?” you counter and he shrugs,

“Was in the military. You learn to pick up on details.”

The twinkle in your eyes tells him that you don’t believe him, that you believe it’s something else but you don’t voice it. Just watch him curiously.

“Perhaps I should make a more conscious effort to get to know you. Tell me – what was it like growing up in New York?” he’s trying to steer the conversation away from how you were making him nervous.  You lift a skeptical eye though and he knows you don’t buy it. He hopes you don’t challenge him on it.

“You don’t wanna hear about that. And honestly, you don’t have to know me to validate fucking me on the side…” You allow yourself to drift and he leans onto the table, his elbows propping up as he balls his hands into a fist.

“Yea I do. I know about as much as Curtis told me about you and you know way too damn much about me. I’d like to fix that.”

Rule #2 – you would learn as little about each other as possible.

Helped ward off feelings of attachment. You both worked hard for that. He was a naturally private person as were you.

But when you were around someone so much, no matter how hard one tried, it was inevitable to pick up little things about them. What made them smile. How they grew up. What motivated them. He was curious about you now, knowing that you were a UN officer. Intrigued. His thirst for needing to know all the details outweighing the need to lie to himself.

You give a slow nod, watching him as you take a long sip of water before shrugging.

“Okay, but this is just to make things even. Doesn’t mean anything else okay?”

He nods and you sigh, gesturing for the waiter to pour you another glass of wine.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” He says simply

He listens, his dark eyes bearing into you as he watches you as you dive into your autobiography

This was different. It was different in the way you laughed as you sat back in your chair, allowing the white wine to consume your senses. The way you brushed hair out of your face as your eyes eagerly told him tales of growing up, your hands moving from nervously playing with your napkin to know moving around you in an animated fashion. The way you sit up in your chair, crossing those legs he knew like to wrap around his waist when he was plowing into you deeply, as you bite your lip, sharing things he knows you normally would keep to yourself.

This was different because he was seeing you beyond the woman who he just wanted to fuck. Now he was seeing you as something else – someone who grew up with an abusive stepfather and a mother who drank herself to death. Someone who was the youngest of seven kids and had to step up at an early age to support the family. Someone who had found a way out of a shit show family situation only to be forced into a loveless marriage. Bryon – the insurance carrier who had you had known your whole life and eventually married because toward the end of your mother’s sickness, was one of the few things that gave her peace.

The way you felt like you were alone in this busy world, standing amidst a crowd screaming for help only to fall on silent ears.

You were like him. And that small ache deep in the back of his heart, the one that had always told him that he was going to be alone, chips a bit.

When you’re done, realizing that he hasn’t responded you begin to nervously begin to fiddle with your napkin again, wringing the tough fabric in your hand.

“Sorry to dump that all on you.” You finally say after you take a long swig of your wine, finishing the cup and he shakes his head, reaching out for your hand. The movement takes you both off guard and he shakes his head, trailing circles on your exposed hand,

“Don’t apologize about being you. Not to me or anyone us. Most of us fill the same way but would never admit it.”

You quirk your head to the side, watching the way his lean fingers play against your skin and you look back up at him, eyes lust blown as you clear your throat. He had pushed too much. Got too intimate. You were pushing him away as you shrugged out of your jacket, exposing your shoulders and allowing him a better view of your cleavage.

“Where’s the nearest bathroom?” you ask and he can’t help his eyes from wandering between your eyes and your chest.

“Behind me in the back. To your left.”

“Family restroom?” you ask and he nods as you pull from him, ceasing the intimate contact as you stand to straighten out your dress. Then you walk toward him, bending down quickly to whisper,

“Meet me in 5?”

“I’ll see you in three.” His eyes are fixed on your face as you smile, noting the way two dimple dig deep into your cheeks before he feels your fingers grazing over your shoulder as you walk past him.

The fuck was wrong with him. He waited a beat, before straightening out and buttoning his jacket.

This was just sex.

He never realized how lush your lips were. It was all he could think of as you pulled him to the back seat of his car –  his $600,000-dollar car he reminded himself – laughing as your lips fall on his neck, drawing a low moan out of him.

You’re both drunk. Way to damn drunk. You were both technically supposed to be inside, celebrating with friends and strangers the start of a new year. Your husband was inside. Curtis was inside. Neither of you gave two fucks. The minute you walked into Anvil in the glittery, tight fitting number he knew he was going to fuck you. His eyes had undressed you the minute you waved at him, walking over with someone a bit smaller than you, my gangly in your presence.

You’re husband. Things clicked the minute you introduced him. He understood why a woman like you – a woman full of passion and adventure – had to get away from someone like that.  Understood why you choose a job that required you to be away most of the year. Understood why you ignored your phone when he called or texted. Understood why you had cheated on the sad man in the first place.

He was an ant trying to carry a goddess.

It had been six months and while he hadn’t tried to be sentimental, it had slipped out while you were both in bed.

“Come to my New Year’s Eve party?” he whispered against your hair, his arms wrapped around you as you nuzzled into his chest. You were going to be gone a month and had forced him to take half a day for work. You were insatiable.

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

He snorts though something bites at his heart. Wishing it wasn’t this way. Confused on why he wanted it.

“Not asking you too. Curtis is coming and he’s not either.”

You laugh, kissing his chest softly before resting your head on his pecks.

“Why do you want me to go?”

“I think it would be fun. Booze, dancing and good company. Come on – tell me you don’t want to go out and have a good time together. It’ll be like the first time we met.”

You sigh but he knows by the smile tugging at your lips he’s got you. He doesn’t admit to himself that he wants you to go because it marks the six months you’d have been together. That would really scare you. Scared the shit out of him when he thought too hard on it. Which is why he lied. To himself, to you.

Lying was how you survived in this world.

Of course, this was the karma for wanting more from you. Now he was stuck with your husband – Brandon was it? – having to listen to him as he dryly droned on about running – one of his hobbies. How he was thinking of expanding your New York home, how he devoted all his time volunteering to fill in the time when you were away for work.

God could the man be more boring.

So it was a little after 11, when people were really starting to feel buzzed and you were leaving the bathroom that he had pulled you into the dark hallway.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he had whispers in your ear and you relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck as you shake your head.

“You scared the shit out of me Billy.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he runs his lips down your neck causing you to tremble as he mutters against your skin, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

You laugh, giving him a soft nudge before saying,

“You know my husband is here right?”

“Yea I noticed. Why is he here? I invited you and Curtis. Not you, Curtis and the third boring amigo.”

You laugh, shaking your head and shrugging,

“No way I leave the house looking this good and not have an explanation. Besides I’ve been gone a month in Columbia, he missed me, blah blah blah…”

Billy bites down on your collarbone causing you to yelp and shakes his head.

“This simply won’t do. Can’t have you dissatisfied.”

“Hmmm,” your hands make slow work of his button up shirt, popping each button slowly, “What are you going to do to remedy it.”

He lifts you, carrying you out to his car, a place more private from the wandering eyes inside, throwing you in the back seat as he turns it on. Locking the door to warm the small space up. Had only got so far before you were pulling him in the back seat, your hands greedily reaching for his belt as he lifts your dress up.

“This dress on you,” he ruts up the material high on your belly, taking in the garters you’re wearing and he groans as he rolls back on his knees, taking you in, “Fuck babe, this dress on you should be illegal.”

You give a satisfied smile as his hands roam up your thighs, over the intricate material running down your flesh at it meets in your center before he’s pulling down your underwear, biting his lips. Watching the way you were watching him, your arousal filling up the space and goddamn if that doesn’t do him in, he doesn’t know what will.

He pulls down his briefs quickly, spreading your legs apart as he leans between them, his face barely touching yours as he slowly slides into you, causing you to moan. Then he bends down and he kisses you, his cold lips pressed against your own and you both freeze. Stare at each other for what seems like a century. 

Rule # 3 – No kissing. 

Kissing was intimate. Invited something more. Sure a few pecks down each other’s neck was fine but actual kissing was off limits.

He was breaking all of them now and he knew it.

He’s about to pull away, about to take it back but then your tongue is skimming along his lips, asking them to be opened and he submits, his tongue mingling with yours for the first time. Tasting you. Moaning deeply into your mouth as he lifts your leg, hitting your deeper as his cock grazes across that spot that has you moaning out his name, your hands digging in his hair.

Your other leg wraps around his torso, drawing him closer to you as his hand snakes between your leg, circling your clit. He can feel the way your body starts to shake, succumbing to the pleasure he is giving you as you pull him closer to him, kissing him deeply.

He pulls you up higher, driving into you deeper, a low moan grumbling from his inner chest as you wrench from him, grasping at the leather underneath you as his name fills the air. Your hand rakes down his chest as his forehead leans on yours, lips brushing against each other and he whispers,

“I think I could fall for you.”

You cradle his face, wrenching away from him for a second and shake your head whispering,

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t cease his movement as his hips move faster, more sloppily against you. Doesn’t stop as his hand intertwines with yours, coming inside you as his head falls into the crook of your neck, moaning out your name. You however are still, your head moved to the side as silence starts to fill the car. The sound of people counting down echoing against the crisp night air.

“Forget I said it.” He whispers in your neck, pulling away from you, that part of him that has always kept himself distant starting to harden up again. You’re silent and he looks down at your face, at the way tears glisten in the moonlight and fear grips your heart.

Was the thought of him loving you really that horrible? Was he that unlovable?

“Really, I didn’t mean it.” He tries to get it out in a gruff but he knows it’s more of a whisper and you turn toward him, shaking your head.

“I can’t have you Billy. Just as much as you can’t have me. The sooner you come to terms with that – the easier this can get.”

He’s confused, knows his face is reflecting it and you wipe at your tears before your face cradles him,

“You’re kinda great Billy you know that? Funny. Talented. Successful. Intelligent. Perceptive. But your just as broken as I am. You don’t know how to love. I don’t know how to love. Two broken things don’t make a right. This is fun, what we have but one day you’ll get bored. You’ll find someone else and I’ll go back to my dull existence. Maybe you find a boring, charming girl who can put up with you and your broken soul but it can’t be me. Don’t know how to love you in all the ways you deserve to be loved. Because you do Billy – deserve love. But it can’t me. Don’t get attached to me.”

There’s something about the way your voice hits his ear, the way you look at him before you’re fighting back a sob that tears deeply to his soul.

Because he was you. Knew you. Knew that everything that you were saying was true.

You were two broken souls just looking for someone to put you together. But that couldn’t happen. Too much damage had been done. Far too much.

“Hard to not love someone like you.” He mutters and you laugh, pushing him a bit.

“Billy Russo doesn’t love.”

“And Y/N does?” he challenges back and you shake your head.

“I don’t want to see you after this.”

It tears him. Feels like the air is being sucked out of his lungs slowly, filling up with something dark and twisted that poisons his lungs. He feels alone and vulnerable suddenly. But he knows you’re right.

You had to go. He had to watch you go.

Love like this was dangerous.

“After tonight?” he asks and you nods slowly and he sighs, wiping a strand of hair from your face.

“Only if you come home with me. Just for tonight. Then you can go.”

The only rule you haven’t broken yet. The only one that’s mattered the most.

You don’t hesitate to say yes.

When he wakes up the next morning you’ve left him alone in his bed and you’ve taken his broken heart with you.

[annasbones]

Musings

Ok so now I’m on the laptop its easier to type and let it all out.

My life right now is revolving around two major subjects; Jakob and intermittent fasting/weight loss.

Jakob first.

This time last week I was a wreck. I was crying and struggling to comprehend that he had gone. It was made worse by the fact that he couldn’t get home in the way he originally planned to and it turned into a massive 30 hour journey or something stupid. i was relieved when he let me know he was back at his family home.

Since then I have had bad days where I miss him terribly and wish he would come back. Wish it would be back to how it was and that he never left. In actuality it was never perfect. He was a damaged, unhappy soul. I could not fix that. We had good times but ultimately Sunday night always came around and he would be sad. I’ve never been with someone who struggled with those types of mental problems. He was a fragile man in many ways but also a truly loving and caring one. It was exhausting for me sometimes to stay afloat and not drown with him. I think his decision to give up, quit and leave was wrong. He quit so quickly and it then happened very fast. 

But now he is gone. It’s 1 week later and he isn’t coming back. I mentioned the idea of ‘do you think its weird that we were still talking but will never see each other again?’ and he said no/doesn’t try to think about it. That is fair enough. I wanted him to say we will see each other again in some capacity. I would go to him in a heartbeat. I can’t imagine him coming back here. I need to move my life forward and so does he. I’m worried for how his future looks... Germany is not coming out of lockdown anytime soon and he doesn’t have any income. IDK about unemployment money but it’s just another thing that irks me - how or why couldn’t he continue to work at VF for just a few more months. So he could job skip. I know it’s a regret of his but oh well... He will move into a new place and then get back to normal I hope.

For us i want to feel like we’re not just exchanging formalities. Now we’re over the initial shock period it is time to heal. But I want to talk to you all the time and tell you about what’s going on in my life - vice versa. Apart from when it comes to girls/guys. I don’t want that for at least a year... I’m just not ready. We had such a fail relationship really. Maybe when he is back working and things are a little more normal we can get more flirty... last week wasn't ideal as hashtag period was a happening. 

So for today its the 8th February 2021 i think... I miss you and want to be back in your arms more than anything else. But I will let you go eventually. x

Second topic of discussion featuring in my internal monologue... IF and weight loss!

So, after he left 7 days ago I found that my appetite was shot. I didn’t eat for almost 3 days and felt so defeated. I had a takeaway on the wednesday and then ate again on Friday. i then ate on Sunday. So during the weekend i realised what I had essentially been doing was intermittent fasting. And it wasn’t super hard. I’ve buried myself in the subreddit and have bigged up myself on peoples stories of losing 15lbs in the first month etc and decided it’s something I will commit to.

I didn’t weigh myself last Monday so i can’t really claim weight loss. Right now i’m hovering around 201/2lbs which isn’t my highest but urghhh it’s big enough. Way too big. I had a think and if I am really good and actually stick to this thing I could lose some serious weight. First goal is 180. When i was hungry at the weekend I said to myself ok you can order a bird/take out whatever when you see 18x on the scale. It will have been early 2018 when i last weighed 185 or something. That will be a big achievement for me. So at the moment I am fasting and eating a big calorie deficit. I hope when i go to write my next entry I will be lower lower lower. I just need to avoid alcohol. 

Now what I haven’t put is my long term goal and why. I want by summer time to have lost 50lbs. I want to look at myself and feel good. I want to have DONE THAT. I also want to do this... there isn’t a way of typing it any differently or saying it but i want to do this to look good for HIM. I always struggled with the weight difference between Jakob and I. I couldn’t feel sexy around him. So when I do hopefully get to my magic 150... in my stupid head i will think yes now I can initiate us seeing each other again and hooking up. It sounds INSANE but I want him to want me and to think i LOOK GOOD. That is good motivation and drive. It was not a horrible break up but I sure do feel bitter about it. Like ok i’m going to go full ex gf hotness on your ass and make you regret everything.

... Which is dumb. because he was always going to leave no matter how good the pussy was. I mean today even he said ah if i had worked at vf until april whilst living in GERMANY i could have saved 5k or something. pfft. 

So i guess you could say i have 2 goals: 50lbs and to”get my manz back”. one of those is likely to not happen. i’ll check back in...

So yah as of today I'm 201/2ish. I had a meal yesterday that finished around 2:30pm and then i ate at 12:30pm today. It was a small meal maybe around 500calories and I don’t plan to eat again until tomorrow around the same time. Hell, I might even fast buuuuut i gotta eat that pepper.

I am also doing apple fitness+ which whilst is not super motivating it is something to do and it’s free for now. i really hope the weight starts to drop off.

i think that’s it?? I am still doing my german duo lingo which is kind of pointless but one day I will go back to germany and who knows, maybe i’ll see jakob maybe i won’t, but my German will be GOOD! It’s good to have goals. it’s good that I have this free time and availability to do whatever the fuck I want... I can fast and not worry about feeding someone else for however long.

it’s hard to keep up with friends. i love them dearly but sometimes i just don’t want to reply. 

i hope by the beginning of March which is in 3 weeks i will be down to 193. and then by the beginning of april it will be 180. see where I'm going with this? k I'm going to have a pee now and then do 20 mins of apple yoga. peace

[flowerconcept-blog]

prince!hoshi

req’d by anon!!! 

truly just the sweetest softest kindest boy in the whole country, and incredibly humble considering he’s also THE PRINCE

growing up the country totally adored him because he was so mischievous and cute, he would attend public events with his parents and would always manage to wiggle his way out of his bodyguard’s line of sight and run into the crowds to play with a dog he saw or kiss a baby

like ……. his parents hired an extra secret service guard for him after each event but even when there were ten of them watching him he was able to goof off and make the public laugh

as he got older he didn’t get less mischievous, but in public he had to behave better and also he was too big to sneak away :-( so most of the mischief happened in the palace

soonyoung and his bff seokmin, the head of staff’s son, would wreak havoc

it’s not like soonyoung didn’t want to be a prince as a child…..but his etiquette lessons bored him and he didn’t like the idea of being “refined” and “regal”

because that wasn’t his personality!!!! and it never would be

the only class he liked at all was his dance class, because he liked the instructor a lot and he really loved dance itself, something that he grew more and more passionate about over the years

so he ditched a lot of his dumb classes, and he and seokmin would spook the butlers and leave whoopie cushions on seats in the council room and run away from the guards hooting and hollering

one time they tried to sneak off the palace grounds into the city w/o protection….. the guards at the gate nearly had an aneurism but finally got them back inside the palace

they gave a lot of people headaches but the staff of the castle loved them anyways

because no matter how silly he was, prince soonyoung would always help the maids carry sheets to guest rooms, bring carrots to the stables for the horses, set the dinner table alongside the staff, basically he would just be humble and lovely and helpful

he never ever thought he was better than them and he always wanted to learn how to do things, whether it was baking bread or grooming a horse or gardening

in particular he spent a lot of time in the kitchens with seokmin, sometimes trying to steal snacks (they always got caught) but also just hanging out with the cooks

the head chef, a middle aged woman, loved soonyoung to death!!!! and sometimes acted like more of a mother than his actual mom did, and if he ever scraped his knee or anything the first thing he would do would go crying to the kitchens

he never got good at cooking despite all of the chefs trying to teach him his favorite recipes, but it never stopped him from trying, bless his lil heart

by the time it was time for him to go to school his parents had gotten a tiny bit fed up with his dislike of his royal tutors, so they decided to send him to boarding school just outside the capital of the country

honestly high school wasn’t HORRIBLE for soonyoung, but he missed the palace and seokmin and being able to see his people, and when he graduated he really wanted to go to college in the capital …. and because he did well in school his parents let him apply to whatever school he wanted, which was only like 20 minutes walking from the palace

because soonyoung didn’t like acting superior to anyone he compromised with his parents (who wanted him to live in the palace w/ full security) and ended up living in a little apartment near his campus

which ……. is right next door to your little apartment!!!!

you don’t go to college, in fact you’ve actually just started to work in the palace kitchens because you’re saving up to go to college!!!! until then you’re capitalizing off of being an incredible baker and working in the palace

but you want to be able to take classes in business and start your own little cafe, which is a dream since you were young …… you figure that actually understanding business is necessary to own your own, but you don’t know ….. anything about it

anyways, when soonyoung moves in you’re surprised to walk out the elevator on a normal sunday morning and see ????? a bunch of secret service guards in the hallway ?????blocking the route to your home?????

at first you’re panicking because ur like “oh god they’re here because i took a cake home oh no what do i do” but then you realize that there must be something else going on!!!! for a moment you’re trying to figure it out but then you’re like. you’ve gotta get your groceries into your home before your ice cream melts

so you try to sneak past but the guards are stone faced and are like “you can’t go past here” and ur like ????um i live here ?????? and they’re like “provide proof of your residence”

at this point you’re truly confused and about to argue but then you hear a voice go “c’mon guys let them get to their apartment” and you turn and oh my god it’s the prince ??!??!!??!?!

you’ve never seen soonyoung in person despite working in the kitchens, the older staff always tell stories about the prince and talk about how well he’s grown up, but he’s understandably busy now that he’s older so he doesn’t stop by that much anymore

and the times that he has dropped into the kitchens you’ve been off shift

honestly you were sort of jealous of your co-worker friends because they would rave about how handsome and kind he was and u were like!!! i want to see the prince :-(

but seeing him in person you really don’t think your friends were doing him justice … his eyes are sparkling and his skin is practically glowing and his hair looks so soft and MAYBE you’re getting a little too starstruck, but soonyoung is even more handsome than the kitchen intern named mingyu who everyone thinks is a model

and when he smiles toothily at you, you’re like. oh my god. An Angel Is Right In Front Of My Eyes?

meanwhile soonyoung thinks your shocked expression is adorable and he’s excited to have such a cute neighbor, so he sticks his hand out nd introduces himself and you stutter out your name and then you stammer out “i’m sorry i don’t mean to be so rude i’ve just never seen a handsome prince in person”

which. is NOT what you meant to say but soonyoung laughs and his ears go a little pink and you’d probably happily stand there staring for another hour but... … one of the guards is like “your highness-” “PLEASE call me soonyoung” “-uhhh soonyoung you have a lot to unpack before your dinner with your parents” 

and the moment sort of fades away, you manage to get into your apartment but of course you can’t stop thinking about soonyoung (and how AWKWARD you are)

you think that even if he wasn’t the prince you would be excited for him to be living next door to you…...in fact you think him being the prince has almost nothing to do with the way you can’t stop thinking about his cheerful smile and kind eyes

little do you know :-) soonyoung is also thinking about you :-)

you wish that you could work up the courage to talk to him again, but you’re afraid of saying something embarrassing again and also he’s a prince!!! he’s surrounded by beautiful rich people that he could be friends or lovers with, so why would he want to be either of those things with you???

however your politeness and friendliness means that you have to give him a welcome gift, so a few days after he moves in, you bake him a cake and leave it at his door with a little note attached to it

and when soonyoung gets home from classes and sees your gift he blushes! he’s so happy!!!! he scrawls out a little thank you note (with a tiny drawing of himself eating cake!! cutie) and puts it on your door, and i’m not saying you stick it on your fridge but yeah you do that

you sort of get into a routine of passing notes between apartments, little things like “hope you have a good day” or “i liked the music you played last night haha,” but you never actually talk to each other :-(

because as famous as soonyoung is, he’s just as nervous to talk to his cute neighbor as you are!!!!

your schedules don’t line up at all so you don’t see each other either, but starting that night you’ll sometimes hear him laughing loudly with someone (seokmin!!!!) and sometimes you hear music playing (as he dances!!!) and it’s oddly comforting to know that he’s there

in fact you don’t see him until one slow day at the kitchens, you’re kneading dough and suddenly you hear the head chef exclaim “soonyoung!” and there he is in the flesh!!!!

many of the staff gravitate towards him, but you watch from afar, nervously trying to decide whether or not you should say hello or if you should just hide

but before you can slip away like a middle schooler with a crush soonyoung catches your eye!!! his smile grows at the sight of your floury apron and rosy cheeks and before you know it everyone’s going back to work and he makes his way over to your little baking station

seeing him in Prince Clothes honestly takes your breath away …. his hair is carefully done and he’s wearing a collared shirt and you don’t know how anyone is allowed to be this attractive?!?!?! especially when they’re also kind and rich !??!?!?!

soonyoung is like “i didn’t know you worked here or i would’ve come by sooner” and internally cringes at how cheesy he sounds…...

but when you duck your head and laugh shyly he figures it was worth sounding c*rny ;(

you talk for a couple of minutes before seokmin comes in and is like “soonyoung we gotta leave to go to this event rn” but before he leaves soonyoung asks if you’d like to come over for dinner on friday and your heart catches in your throat

and you say yes

as soon as he leaves the kitchen seokmin is like whom is that???? and soonyoung is like THAT Is The Most Amazing Person in the World and won’t shut up about how nice you are and how he can’t believe you said yes to getting dinner and seokmin regrets ever asking

friday you go next door to soonyoung’s for dinner………..except he sheepishly explains that he tried to cook and fucked it up ……….so you end up ordering chinese food but it feels more authentically soonyoung so you don’t really mind

and he’s genuinely interested in your interests and job and dreams so you end up talking until like midnight, he tells you about his fear of being king and his wish to help his people and make their lives better and his love of dancing

and as much as he’s interested in your dreams, you’re interested in his …… which is something that soonyoung doesn’t encounter that often ….. people are interested in his title or his image, but not necessarily what drives him and what he loves

and when he tells you he loves to dance and your eyes light up and you ask him to show you some time, he can’t help but lean in to kiss you

it’s only for a second before he realizes what he’s doing, and then he pulls away apologizing but you’re just like. soonyoung!!! don’t be sorry!!!!!!! and kiss him again

it’s your first kiss of many many many many many kisses

both you and soonyoung are always sort of in awe of the other, and for a while it’s difficult for either of you to believe that you’re dating, but slowly you get used to the movie nights and texting and cuddling and it stops being a fairytale

not that it isn’t still amazing!!! but soonyoung appreciates that you don’t expect a fairytale from him and understand that he’s just a normal guy who happens to be royalty, and you appreciate that he doesn’t want you to be royalty or famous, he loves you just the way you are

he starts stopping by the kitchens a lot more and the head chef totally knows and teases both of you about it, but also one day she tells you that she couldn’t have thought of a better fit for soonyoung and you can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day

despite soonyoung’s love of skinship, he wants your relationship to be private and intimate (because so much of his life has been public) so even after you’ve been together for a few years and the public knows about it your relationship the real affection is behind closed doors

but when ur in one of your apartments he will cuddle you until you overheat and literally need him to let go

he LOVES your baking and supports you wholeheartedly in your dream of opening a cafe!!!! it takes a long time but when you save up enough money and finally buy a little storefront near the castle he cuts the ribbon and obviously since prince soonyoung likes the cafe you do really well

but as he always tells you….. he made your talent known to the public but you’re the one who really made your dream come true, not him

he dances for you sometimes and you think it’s the most wonderful thing in the world!!!!! you encourage him to show people and it actually gets him to start teaching dance classes to underprivileged kids in the city !!!!!

when the two of you are wrapped under the covers and he whispers about his worries that  everyone sees him as “the prince” and not as soonyoung ….. you kiss his nose and tell him that there is no universe that you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, prince or not