#but instead it’s a gorgeous old timer

[sommerregenjuniluft]

ME ME ME ME ME MORE OBX !!!!!!

James heads through the big opening in the wall where there’s yet to be installed a garage door.

Lily is already jumping over the side of James’ car, plopping down behind the wheel of his dark cherry-red beauty of a ’67 Chevrolet Impala Convertible. Two doors, two big benches with four intended seats, six if you don’t mind getting a bit cozy. It’s enormous, ancient and James’ dearest and most prized possession.

“Come on,” Lily urges, reaching out a hand, “Keys?”

James chuckles breathlessly as he gets closer, “Not a chance, Evans. Move your ass over.”

Lily sighs but makes space for James to immediately heft himself over the side of his car with his remaining momentum.

“Worth a shot,” she chirps.

James snorts. Sure. Like he’d ever let any of these idiots drive his baby.

Besides, no one gets the Chevy on as fast as he can. James also refuses to acknowledge the fact that him not giving up the keys to anyone might be a partial reason for that advantage.

[theconstantsidekick]

Avengers: Age Of Ultron ft. Static (1) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader (just a sprinkle)

Genre: Fluff with hidden angst.

Summary: The Avengers decide to party in the middle of which Tony and Natasha discuss his sister's embarrassing love life with the Golden Boy.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking.

a/n: I couldn't help myself. I have no idea why I think this is funny. Dedicated to @buckrecs cause she was wayyyy too kind and gave me a shoutout!

Captain America: Civil War (ft. Static) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“A little birdy told me your Brooklyn boy’s been looking for a new place.”

They’re at the farewell party. Both Stark siblings are safely tucked in a corner at the bar, looking over at the guests with warm eyes and warmer throats, CAUSE OOH! The whiskey might be smooth going down but doesn’t make feel you any less hot.

She rolls her eyes. “Sam told you that?” She cocks her brow in question, “He voluntarily shared that information with you?” 

“Maybe he did,” Tony shrugs. “Or maybe I overheard him while I was passing by.”

“While you were snooping,” she corrects him.

Leaning her back against the bar top by her elbows, he’s gotta admit; his sister never fails to surpass him stylistically. She’s wearing a gorgeous green dress and looking ethereal, as per usual.

“I admit to no such thing,” He counters from where he’s standing next to her, facing somewhere halfway between her and the party ahead.

“You just did,” she bites back.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“DID TOO!”

“DID NOT! Take it up with my lawyer!”

She rolls her eyes again in mock offense but the small upturn of her lips gives her away. 

He smiles too. Then back to the point he goes. “Why don’t you ask him to move in with you?” Tony suggests.

“You think you’re the first person to come up with that bright idea, Stark?” She asks with the utmost discontent and a cocked eyebrow. 

Yeah, no. Tony’s not taking her shit on this one. “Okay, smartass. Be nicer and answer politely.”

Sighing, she throws her head back in a kind of defeat he’s not used to seeing on her. “I already offered, he declined.”

“How’d you ask?” That shit really fucking matters… he may or may not be speaking from experience. “Maybe you didn’t do it right.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I don’t know how to ask my boyfriend if he’d like to move in with me?”

He shrugs again, dubious. “You’ve never actually had a serious relationship before this… maybe you did it wrong.”

“I didn’t do it wrong!” She seems adamant, he thinks.

He needs to be sure though.

“But what if you did?”

“My god, Stark! I did it perfectly well. And his answer was clear; he is not interested,” she answers, frustration clear in her voice.

“But what if it went over his head?” Leaning in closer, he whispers, “The old timer is older than—” He decides against finishing that sentence, instead opting to point towards her with his eyes. “You catch my drift?” 

“Stark,” it’s a warning.

As if warnings work on him.

She didn’t even call me ‘Anthony’, he thinks. Easy territory.

So, undeterred he continues, “You should be straight forward. Go up to him, say, ‘Hey, cuddle pie, I know you’re looking for a place (on account of your long lost best friend coming back from the dead destroying your old one) and I, coincidentally, happen to have one! So you should move in.” 

“Tony I—”

Cutting her off with a wave, he confesses, “The cuddle pie thing is a little weird, I’ll admit that but the rest is fair enough. Come on! What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could say no… which he did.” 

“That’s why I’m suggesting that you try it my way—”

“Dude!” She cuts him off, loudly. “That is EXACTLY what I said—verbatim… which, by the way, is really weird that you guessed it to a T.” Squinting, she mumbles almost to herself, “Maybe we spend too much time together.”

“Too late to worry about that now,” once again he waves his hand, dismissing her concerns, focused completely on the dumpster fire in front of him. “You said that? Exactly that?” She just nods in response. “And?”

“He said no.”

“What were his exact words?” He’s fucking curious. More than that monkey George ever was. This is curious stuff. Come on.

She stands up straighter, puffs up her chest, pretending to be the star-spangled man himself. “‘I really appreciate the offer, but I kinda like living in Brooklyn… and I wouldn’t want to impose.’”

Tony stares at her for a second. His hand slowly comes to cover his mouth in complete dismay. “Best case scenario? He really doesn’t want to move in with you… Worst case scenario? The man is beyond saving.”

She nods in agreement, “I mean, I think I would have taken it better if he just told me he doesn’t want to live with me.”

Tony tilts his head, nodding in confused agreement. “This was horrible. I am embarrassed on your behalf.”

“Share the burden with me, Stark. I need the assist.” Clinking their glasses together, they empty their respective drinks. 

“You sure sound like you do.” A voice chimes in from behind them.

“HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKS!” Both of them scream out in unison, turning to the intruder of conversations, and suffice it to say, there’s not an ounce of shock regarding who it is.

“How long have you been there??!” Tony asks, hand on his heart, trying to calm it down.

A completely unbothered Natasha answers, “Long enough to feel embarrassed on your behalf.” The woman is so unbothered, she doesn’t even look up from the drink she’s making for herself. “So what’s the plan now?”

Sighing, Y/n reaches over the bar and pours herself… that’s a double and a single, that’s a triple, fuck. She pours herself some (read; a lot) of whiskey. “I think the sane thing to do would be find his realtor, put an offer on whichever place he picks, and make sure he can’t get a place at all.” She drinks the whole thing in one fluid motion.

Natasha nods in agreement. “I can get his number.”

“I can put the offer,” Tony proposes.

“Or I could do the insane thing and have an actual conversation with him,” Y/n muses, pouring another drink and chugging it down as well.

“Talking has never solved anything,” Natasha claims at the same time as Tony asks, “Who’s ever found peace via a conversation?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Y/n agrees with a small smile.

“I must say, I never thought you could embarrass yourself,” Natasha comments, taking a sip of her drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/n counters, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I hate to say it, but the woman’s got a point,” Tony takes the bottle from Y/n’s hands and pours himself a drink, just to break her cycle if nothing else. “I’ve never actually seen you being rejected before.”

Y/n levels both of them with an unimpressed look. “I’ve been rejected plenty.” She points to Natasha then, “Take this one for instance. She’s been rejecting me since day 1.”

Natasha just smiles.

“Let me amend my statement,” Tony offers, leaning closer to the bar top. “I’ve never actually seen you being defeated before… You take your rejections in stride.”

“This one’s different,” Y/n answers simply.

“How so?” Natasha asks, taking another sip of her drink.

“Cause it’s Steve—?” Y/n throws her hands up on confusion. Huffing she tries again, “I don’t know. It feels… I don’t understand. I don’t understand him.” She snatches the bottle from Tony’s hand and man if that doesn’t leave him with war flashbacks from his 21st birthday. “There are days—days where he looks at me and I can tell he feels at home… Like he’s found a piece of home? Maybe? I don’t know… But then there are other days where he looks at me and I can tell he doesn’t want to get any closer than we already have. Like there is something holding him back.”

There is silence. 

Then both Natasha and Tony speak up at the same time, almost talking over each other. “Talking about this major issue in your relationship is obviously not the solution,” she says, while Tony comments, “Honest conversations are a trap made by Satan himself! I forbid it!”

Smiling a little, Y/n looks at them. “Don’t act all high and mighty like either of you are any better than me,” she accuses, pointing from one to other.

And, what blasphemy does this woman speak! Tony’s a star honest converser.

“I absolutely am better than you! My girlfriend does live with me,” Tony bites back.

Which is instantly followed by Natasha’s defence. “No, no, no. This is exclusively a Stark siblings issue—” both Starks’ oncoming arguments are cut off before they even begin. “I have my fair share of faults but this is not one of them.”

Apparently that makes Y/n scoff. “Oh yes yes. Both of you are exemplary examples of talking feelings. I mean it’s not like—” she looks at Tony, “—you ever lied to your girlfriend about slowly being poisoned to death by the palladium in your chest.” Then her eyes turn to Natasha, “And of course you lovingly serenade everyone to sleep so they can avoid their big, bad, green anger management issues.”

The three of them stare at each other in silence for a few seconds. 

And then,

“I think Sam’s the one who got Steve his realtor; I’ll get his contact information,” Natasha offers.

“I’ll go tell my staff to start making aliases so we can put down counter offers,” Tony says.

With that both of them walk away, scattering in different directions. 

Y/n nods to herself, triumphant with a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

tag list : @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @roxannejblack @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987 @lilfuturescars

Hit me up if you want to be added or removed from the tag list.

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

⌝. Construction was everywhere as Bellamy opened the door to Jean-Claude. The exterior of the estate was being slowly painted black and the interior was having certain walls moved, plumbing redone, the kitchen entirely needed fixing because it was obviously made to not actually be used and Bellamy most certainly would. There were a few rooms already completed, that had taken priority, including her bedroom and her closet, Rosita's room and the master bathroom because Bellamy needed to be able to bathe in the sunlight, even if none of her neighbours could look at how gorgeous she was any longer.

⌝ "Hey there, old timer," Bellamy smiled, gems in various shades around her throat as brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and complemented the pure white of her dress. She'd been wearing it earlier in the day for her lunch with Juan Diego, as he had won her cookies at the charity auction, and figured she would leave it on until JC got there and they could pick through her closet together. It wasn't just her look that had changed though, as she went in for a hug her scent had also matured. The vanilla and caramel scent she had been wearing for years was now elevated. Valentin had purchased her a perfume by the company that did his own, he had kept the notes of vanilla but found a scent that instead complemented it with iris, rose and violet.

⌝ "Look who finally has an actual home again," she joked because Bella had left her townhouse so long ago and while she had been staying with Nicky it had never been solidified as her home because he'd never got around to telling his family. It probably didn't look good for a doctor to be dating a vampire, who knew? Regardless she had a place she could claim as hers once again and that felt nice.

@duderosiers

[chavisory]

You still see these comments, a lot of the time from old-timers on YouTube, like “They don’t make music like this anymore! No one writes songs like this now! Everything today is trash!”

And it’s true, in part, like we’re never going to have another group like Simon & Garfunkel become what they became, culturally.

And I felt that way myself and said some of those things, mostly when I was in middle school and had been brought up on the music of my parents’ generation, and what was on the radio felt like a wasteland, comparatively. I didn’t like any of it. I was still too young to really appreciate much of the “Alternative” genre at the time.

But one of the little soapboxes I’m starting to feel really strongly about is that people still saying this...probably have just not found the current music for them, and they could probably benefit from looking around a little bit harder and expanding their horizons, because there is actually so much fascinating and good music being made right now.

I don’t like most of what’s on the radio right now, either (and I’m not saying those artists aren’t skilled, their stuff just mostly isn’t for me), but go play around in Pandora or Bandcamp a little bit. Go to a concert for a living composer at whatever your local music hall or cultural center is. Go to a local open mic night. Go see a group you’ve barely heard of. Go to a local record store (they still exist, I swear) or literally even the music section of a Barnes & Noble and ask for a recommendation or just pick up something from a local group whose name you’ve never heard. People love to make fun of modern/experimental music, but I think some of it is the most beautiful work to see and hear live. There’s some really gorgeous cross-genre music being made these days.

And I think that most people genuinely just aren’t familiar with the music being made right now (or art, or poetry, or creative non-fiction, etc.) contributes to this narrative that goes “What happens to gifted or talented kids when they grow up? Why don’t they maintain their creativity? Why don’t they do anything new? Why don’t they compose great new works instead of just technically mastering the existing canon?”

But a whole lot of them actually do. There is actually just so much interesting work being done, but it’s not on commercial radio, it’s niche and weird, or will just never gain the kind of popular platform that Taylor Swift or Brandi Carlile have right now, it’s being put out by small labels, it’s hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to start. No, we probably won’t have a poet become a national rockstar the way Edna St. Vincent Millay was again, music is never going to sound exactly like the 50′s again, but I promise you that everything isn’t trash just because you can’t find what you like on the radio.

[erodasfishtacos]

*CHICAGO*

i write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is today!!!!!!! 🎂)

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

——

The public didn’t know that some of the pictures that are posted of Harry that are tagged and credited to the on tour photographers were actually taken by his wife.

For example, after Chicago, the picture of Harry in the tub - completely bare and worn down from his show, you actually think the photographer took that?

No, that was snapped with YN’s iPhone, like some of the other pictures he’s posted.

Just like the one where he’s asleep on the hotel bed in a robe in Paris with all of his stuff splayed around him - allegedly taken by helene. ***

But no, it had been his wife, they had just taken a shower together and she had stayed in for a bit longer to shave her legs - when she had come out and seen him passed out.

She had to tug a bit at the robe so he wasn’t exposed and make it x-rated, then she pulled out her phone and snapped the picture - sending it to Jeff with a teasing caption.

yn: It’s exhausting being a popstar

And just like that, it appears on his Instagram for fans to go crazy over.

Or what about the snapshot of his tank that had his famous slogan embroidered into the side of the white fabric. ***

His wedding band reflecting in the flash of the light, a subtle glance at his rippled muscle below the attire as they work on his hair.

“Mm, I’m gonna save this for a lonely night,” YN jokes as she tucks her phone away.

Harry’s hand comes to cup her jaw, looking down at her where she’s sat on the floor, “Y’so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

YN’s eyelids flutter a bit as she glances away from his intense gazes - he still gives her butterflies.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. Can I not tell m’wife how gorgeous she is?” He asks, bring her hand up to kiss the back of it, “Look s’good with tha’ ring on.”

And the one that made fans go crazy.

On a warm evening, in a hotel room between venues in Italy, where they had been lounging around all day.

YN in just a thin gauzy dress that accentuated the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra and Harry just in the trousers he’d worn to get them coffee earlier that morning.

“You just took a picture of me! It’s my turn,” YN giggles, getting on her knees on the old squeaky couch and snatching the camera off of him.

“I took a picture because y’tits look nice in tha’ dress. I can see y’nipples and it’s turnin’ me on,” Harry defends, holding up his book as she snaps it.

“H, c’mon,” She pouts but squeaks when Harry tugs her into him, dropping the book and the camera as he adjusts her on his lap.

“Gonna let me take a picture of y’all nice and fucked out, darling?” He rasps, ignoring her pout and hiking her dress up her hips.

And it’s happened throughout the years, so many pictures that were littered over the internet where just uncredited snapshots from YN.

Just like the one from 2013, they were on tour, and Harry was supposed to be recording for the next album after soundcheck and before the concert. ***

Instead, after soundcheck, Harry and YN had snuck off to a little meadow and lake to have a swim. He had shimmied down to his briefs and waded in.

YN stood back, snapping a picture of him and his friend as the complained about how freezing cold it was.

“Baby, c’mon. Come get in!” Harry had shouted back to his girlfriend on the dry land, “I need some warmth, s’freezing!”

YN grimaces, just in Harry’s shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, dipping her toe in and shaking her head - “I’ll enjoy from here!”

“Please, bug,” He pouts, motioning for her to come in.

She does after a moment, squealing at the temperature before quickly finding her way into Harry’s arms.

“Only have fun on tour when y’with me,” He had murmured into her ear before he dunked her underwater and they play fought until their stomachs hurt from laughing.

And then came the notorious picture that had gotten a million likes in thirteen minutes, oh, the chicago ice bath.

Harry had been achey since tour had begun, constantly complaining about his back and ankles from the shows.

“Baby, just rub m’back a lil’ longer please?” He had whimpered the night before, the tour bus bed did not help him much at all.

When his trainer had recommended an ice bath immediately after the show - YN had made sure to arrange it despite his protests.

After exiting the stage in his black and lilac outfit, he’d been lured into the bathroom with a promise of sex but instead was a steel tub filled with ice water.

Jeff, Lambert, Tommy - everyone was watching on in amusement as he adamantly tried to deny that it would help and the peer pressure wasn’t make him anymore convinced.

“Alright, everyone out,” YN had finally tittered, shooing out the circus before closing the door for privacy.

She helps strip her husband out of his close as he looks at her reproachfully, “You promised me sex.”

“After,” YN assures him, kissing his puffy lips and asking softly, “Just try it, if it doesn’t work - you don’t have to do it again.”

He grumbles a bit, muttering, “Don’t look at m’bits, they’re gonna shrivel up.”

YN giggles, “As if I haven’t seen your bits in every shape and form.”

As he slips in, YN has to snap a picture of his eyes wide and lips pursed at the shock of the freezing water cooling down his hot, sticky skin.

“Holy fucking shit,” Harry hisses, lowering self until he’s sat - his nipples instantly hardening and he’s breathing roughly out of his nose.

“Five minutes, I’ll set the timer,” YN says, setting it on her phone before sitting down next to the tub as he tries to relax.

“Baby, fuck. Reminds me of that really cold lake in Boston, ‘member?” He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches until YN intertwines their hands.

“Yeah, that wasn’t as cold as that one time you convince me to skinny dip with you on the coast of france.”

“Oh yeah, that one was really fucking cold too,” Harry murmurs, keeping his eyes closed and steadying his breathing.

(During WWA tour - ***)

“Harry, are you insane? Anyone could see us? Paul could walk out or the boys. I’m not-“

She’s cut off when Harry shucks off his swimsuit bottoms, his skin’s glowing in the moonlight and the light waves lapping at the shore are soothing.

YN swallows harshly, tries not to stare at how handsome and overwhelming beautiful he is as he turns to step towards the water.

She looks over her shoulder nervously before stepping out of her one-piece, he waits for her at the shoreline.

“Y’so so stunnin’,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the soft curve of her breast and leaning in for a soft kiss when he feed her shake.

“You could have anyone,” YN whispers against his lips, “Every girl on this earth wants you like this. I’m just some girl from before all this,” she motions to the extravagant bungalow they’re staying at.

“I don’t know why y’think tha’s bad. I want t’experience all this with you, m’first love and m’only love. I’m going to marry y’soon, you know tha’?” He replies, lips tracing the curve of her neck.

“You better,” She giggles, hands going to his shoulder as he sucks a mark into the thin skin.

He pulls back with a frown, “M’not jokin’, I don’t care that we’re young - M’gonna do it.”

“I can’t wait,” YN kisses his jutted out lip, squealing when he tugs her into the water and the chilled waves crash against her hips, “H, it’s so cold.”

“M’gonna keep y’warm, hush up,” He titters, pulling her into his chest until her breasts are smushed against his strong pecs and his arms are around her shoulder, “Love experiencing this w’you, everythin’ w’you.”

-

YN is brought back from her daydream by her husband wiping his finger under her eyelid, “Darling, wha’ is it?”

She hadn’t realized she had teared up thinking of the fond memory, “I want to go back to that bungalow. We had such a good time. I…I just love you.”

His wife chuckles like she’s pathetic for crying about it but he leans out of the tub, cupping her jaw and pulling her in for a hard kiss.

“Don’t be embarrassed, flower,” There was no teasing in his voice, it was sincere, “If anyone should be embarrassed - I’m the one who travels around the world t’sing love songs ‘bout you.”

Their lips join again, his tongue finding its way into her mouth when Jeff, Lambert, and Tommy barge through the door.

“Jesus Christ, only you could be trying to get some while sat in an ice bath,” Jeff scoffs with a smile but instantly knows they’ve fucked up.

“Get out, the fuck?” Harry sits up, “Don’t interrupt me and m’wife. Get out!”

They stumble out and just then the alarm goes off.

YN helps him out, tucking him into a towel and helping him dry off - his head tucked into her neck and hand on her belly - massaging.

“Do you feel any better?” She hums while getting some stray droplets on the nape of his neck as he nuzzles into her warm skin.

“Mm,” He agrees drowsily, hand slipping under her shirt for more heat and she jumps at his icey touch, “Want t’sleep.”

And when they get to the hotel, YN logs onto his Instagram and uploads the ice bath pictures with nobody knowing the story behind it.

-

Hope you enjoyed!

[quickspinner]

Neighborly

I had a bad case of writers block and rabbit brain trying to work on my wips yesterday, so I went and dug through my prompt lists, sat down with the sprint timer, and scrawled out this little bit of nonsense. I'm not sure about the final result but it broke the block, and I figured I might as well share it, so I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T

Marinette's been crushing on her cute neighbor for weeks, but she's never gotten the courage to speak more than a few flustered words to him. Now it might be too late--he's at her door begging for the use of her shower to get ready for his big date.

Marinette stared at the man standing at her door. 

“I’m sorry?” she said faintly, and the man smiled at her. That didn’t help the situation at all, as it made her knees wobbly. 

“Weird ask, I know,” he said, ruffling a hand through his blue-tinted hair. “It’s just that I’m supposed to have a date tonight and my shower’s been out for two days. Maintenance has quit answering my calls and I’m getting desperate. I really like this girl and I don’t want to give the wrong impression.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, voice still weak, and then she plastered a plastic smile on her face. “O-of course you can! What are neighbors for, right? Um—” 

“Luka,” he supplied, still smiling. Marinette already knew that, of course. She knew an embarrassing amount of information about this man, considering they had only spoken in passing. The first time, he’d caught her when her shoe had broken in the hallway, and she’d pitched straight into him somehow managing to stop her fall and haul her back upright against him with only one strong arm. He hadn’t even lost the groceries he’d been carrying in the other. He’d smiled at her and told her to be careful with that soft velvet voice and she’d looked up into blue eyes that seemed far too gentle for his handsome, angular face and— 

Marinette suddenly realized it was her turn to talk and that she was taking too long. “Um M-Marinette, I’m. I’m Marinette,” she stammered.  

“Nice to finally officially meet you Marinette,” Luka said easily, as if she wasn’t the most awkward person he’d ever spoken to, as if she hadn’t run away from him after a few awkward words every time they’d bumped into each other—literally or otherwise. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll pop back over and grab my things, and be back in a few minutes?”

“Oh, um. Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” she babbled, and he turned away, raising a hand slightly. 

“Great, I’ll be back in a few then.” 

Marinette shut the door numbly, and then walked over to her couch and buried her face in a pillow. She screamed, kicking her feet, and then tossed the pillow away, moaning as she dragged her hands down her face. 

It wasn’t enough that the super hot musician with gorgeous shoulders and dreamy eyes was coming over to use her shower. He had to need her shower because he had a date . Marinette wanted to be his date! She’d been half-stalking him trying to work up the courage—well. Not really stalking him, just...observing. She just noticed things, that was all, like how he had a smile and a question for everybody, the way he fed the stray cats that lived behind the building, and always held open doors no matter who was behind him, and how hard his chest was beneath the baggy layers he wore, and—oh, that chest was going to be in her bathroom and—her bathroom! 

Marinette’s eyes flew wide and she nearly tripped over her own feet, flinging herself off the couch, running to the bathroom to grab anything too girly or potentially embarrassing and shove it under the sink. Fortunately her bathroom wasn’t dirty (she wasn’t an animal after all), just cluttered, and she frantically grabbed the underthings she’d draped over the shower rod to dry and ran them to her room, shoving them frantically under her pillow before going back to make absolutely sure she hadn’t missed any or left anything embarrassing. She put a clean towel on the rack and threw the dirty one over her arm and triple-checked to make sure there was no hair in the shower drain. She heard the knock on the door and jerked up, banging her head on the faucet of the tub. She yelped, dizzy with the pain for a moment. 

“Marinette?” Luka called, as she tried to extract herself from the bathtub with one hand clutched to her scalp. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her; that hurt. 

“Are you all right?” Luka asked, and Marinette whirled around wide-eyed to find him standing in the bathroom doorway. “I heard you yell and I let myself in, I hope that’s okay. Did you hurt yourself? Are you bleeding?” He dropped the backpack slung over his shoulder onto the floor and came over to her, gently tugging her hand away from her head. 

“I don’t think so,” Marinette gritted. “I was just...trying to clean up a bit, and…” She gestured at the faucet and Luka winced in sympathy.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he parted her hair with gentle fingers. He was so nice, Marinette mourned. Although...he did smell like he needed that shower. She held her breath and tried not to make a face. “It looks okay,” he said, stepping back away from her. “You didn’t have to clean for me.” 

Marinette gave an embarrassed shrug. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked dryly, and blushed when Luka laughed.

“Probably,” he conceded with a grin. “Thanks. I really didn’t mean to put you to inconvenience.”

“It’s no big deal,” Marinette said, finally mustering a smile. “Besides, how could I leave you in the lurch? Big date and all. I don’t need any more bad karma on my dating life.” 

Luka’s eyebrows rose, and Marinette flushed, cursing her stupid mouth that never shut up when it should. “So I’ll, um—” she gestured behind Luka to the door, “get out of here, so you can. You know.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Luka moved out of her way, pressing himself against the sink, and Marinette squeezed past him and out of the door. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“This girl must be something special,” Marinette smiled as she backed into the small hallway. “For you to go to all this trouble instead of rescheduling.”

“She is,” Luka grinned. “She’s amazing. I think so, anyway. I don’t know her very well yet, but she’s awfully sweet and super cute.” The grin on his face turned a little goofy. “I’ve been smitten since I met her, honestly.” 

“Oh,” Marinette kept her smile in place, trying to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach. “Oh, that’s really sweet. Um, well I don’t want to make you late, so I’ll just...music! I’ll go turn on some music.” That way she wouldn’t hear the incredibly cute soon-to-be-naked boy in her bathroom. “Um, take your time, let me know if you need anything.”

Luka’s grin widened a little. “Thanks Marinette.” He shut the door, and Marinette marched herself back to the living room to scream into another pillow. 

After a few deep breaths and a lot of nervous fumbling, she got her music player running. Jagged Stone should be enough, right? Loud enough to cover—she heard the curtain rings slide across the rod. The shower started running and Luka’s deep sigh of relief. Poor guy , she thought, he must have been miserable . She put the music player on and sat for a moment, chewing her thumbnail nervously. 

After a few minutes she sat up straighter, listening. Was that—over the sound of the running water and Jagged Stone wailing through her sound system, she heard another voice. Luka was...singing? He was singing along with the song that was playing. Marinette giggled, and moved to the other end of the couch, listening. He had a nice voice, she thought wistfully. She’d seen him with a guitar on his back in the halls. She wondered if some of the music she occasionally heard through his door in the hall was music he made, rather than the radio as she’d assumed. 

She flopped on the arm of the couch and groaned. He was so cool, and she was such a disaster. She would have never been brave enough to ask to use a stranger’s shower, no matter how miserable and disgusting she was. 

Poor guy , she thought again. He must have been really desperate.

She sat up, and picked up her phone, looking at it in her hands. Maybe she could...well, it might be stupid but it couldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

Marinette dialed the building maintenance number. “Hi Pierre,” she chirped brightly when the grumpy old technician picked up the phone. “It’s Marinette in 34 B? How are you doing? 

“Miss Marinette!” The gruff tone softened. “I’m doing well, doing well. Tickets lined up like crazy, though. Everything seems to be breaking at once these days.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marinette said, putting on a tone of great sympathy. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother you then—”

“Now, now, none of that. What can I do for you?” 

“It’s not actually me,” Marinette said, “It’s my neighbor across the hall, Luka? His shower’s been out for a while now and he came over tonight to see if he could use mine—”

“What?” barked old Pierre, and Marinette grinned to herself. “That punk with the piercings? You shouldn’t be letting him traipse through your apartment Miss Marinette. Guys like that always try to take advantage.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” Marinette said innocently. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that. I was calling to see when his shower might be fixed, but if you’re so busy, maybe I should just give him my spare key so he can—”

“No, no,” Pierre said quickly. “I’ve got his ticket right here, see, he was next on the list. His shower will be fixed tomorrow, so don’t be making any foolish offers Miss Marinette. You’re too nice for your own good, you know.” 

“Oh, it never hurts to be nice, Pierre,” Marinette giggled. “I’m planning on making some chocolate chip scones tomorrow to take to a friend, so if you do come to fix Luka’s shower, stop on by, I’ll save a few of them for you.”

“Well, I’ll stop by if I have time,” Pierre said gruffly. “Not that sweets are much to a man my age, but if you made them…” 

“Great, I hope I’ll see you!” Marinette giggled. “Thanks so much Pierre, you’re an angel.” She hung up, grinning to herself.

“I can’t believe it. You’re magic.” 

Marinette jumped half out of her skin and whirled around. Luka grinned at her sheepishly, but she hardly noticed, because while he was wearing pants—a different, more fitted pair than what he’d had on when he arrived—his torso was bare, and her fluffy pink towel hung around his shoulders, catching only most of the drips falling from his blue hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ask if you had a hair dryer I can borrow. I forgot to grab mine.” 

“Oh, um, sure,” Marinette said, jumping up. “I’ll just...I’ll get it, if that’s okay.” She blushed, thinking of all the things she had shoved in the cabinet before he came. 

“Sure.” Luka moved back out of her way, and she shimmied past him into the bathroom. She blinked a moment at the amount of paraphernalia spread on her counter. She’d never thought guys used that much product, but she shook herself and bent over to dig in the cabinet, trying to block it with her body so Luka couldn’t see inside. It took some effort to find the hair dryer, which had been shoved against the back of the cabinet in her frenzied tidying, but by some miracle she extracted it without dumping all of the piled up junk onto the floor. Sighing in relief, she straightened and turned. “Got it!” 

Luka was looking at the ceiling. His darkly tanned skin was flushed from the hot shower and the line of his neck made her swallow. “Luka?” she repeated, trying not to squeak. 

His dropped his gaze back to her, and she froze under the intensity in that look for a moment. Then he blinked and smiled, softening, and Marinette felt she could move again. She offered him the hair dryer and he took it. “Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for getting Pierre’s ass in gear. He hates me, so I figured it’d be a week at least before I could get him to come out.” 

“Oh, that.” Marinette shrugged, and grinned mischievously. “I have a lot of experience dealing with grouchy old men.” She winked, and to her mild surprise, the color in Luka’s cheeks deepened. He cleared his throat. 

“Well, thanks for making the effort, I really appreciate it.” 

“Why does he hate you?” Marinette frowned, as Luka’s words caught up to her. 

Luka nodded vaguely in the direction of the back of the building. “We got into it over me feeding the strays. He was nattering on about disease and just breeding more and blah, blah, blah.” Luka rolled his eyes. “If he’d actually listen for five minutes...anyway, I have a friend, the blond that was with me that one time, you remember? He runs a trap-and-release program for feral cats, gets them vaccinated and fixed and all that and then lets them back out into their home territory. The cats behind our building are probably as safe as your average indoor cat, in terms of disease.” 

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, awed. “That’s really cool.” 

Luka grinned. “He’s pretty passionate about it. He did all the real work, trapping and transport and all that. I just make sure they have a good meal. May I?” He gestured towards the sink, and Marinette jumped.

“Oh, of course, please. I’m sorry, I’m going to make you late with all this chattering—” Marinette babbled as she and Luka did a slightly awkward dance to let him in and her out of the bathroom. He smelled much better now, she noticed giddily as they had to squeeze together. She only barely managed not to squeal when he took her arm lightly to guide her around him. 

“By the way,” he called once she was out, and she glanced back to see him unscrewing the lid on one of the sink jars. “Do you have any suggestions for good places to eat close by?” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I’m always looking to try new things.” 

“U-um—” Finding it hard to think while staring at his bare back, Marinette turned away and tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything,” Luka replied, running fingers coated in some kind of gel through his hair. “I like all kinds of things.”

“What does she like?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Luka admitted. 

Marinette considered. “Well, my favorite is this Italian place about two blocks down, but Italian is chancy on a first date. Messy, you know. She might not be comfortable.” Marinette raised her voice as Luka turned on the hair dryer. “There’s an Indian place that’s a little farther away, and there’s a really cute little patisserie right next to it, that could be romantic. Oh, and there’s a park right there, if you feel like a nighttime stroll.” She frowned. “You didn’t already figure this stuff out?”

“I’m not really a planner,” Luka laughed, his deep voice carrying easily even over the noise of the dryer. “I had some ideas, but sometimes the universe throws you an Indian place and a cute patisserie, with a moonlight stroll in the bargain.” He winked at Marinette. “It pays to keep an open mind.” 

Marinette started to smile, and then remembered she was helping him plan a date with someone else, and turned away again. “Okay, well, you’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said quickly as she went down the hallway. Her eyes were stinging and she took a deep breath as she blinked. Stupid , she scolded herself. She didn’t even know him, because just like always she’d never found the guts to actually talk to him, besides a hello and good night! and one very rushed um, cat food was on sale and I noticed it was the brand you buy so...here! SEEYOULATERBYE! He was her neighbor and she hadn’t even asked his name before today, only seen it on the mail that had been misdelivered to her box instead of his. All she had was little stolen scraps, because she hadn’t been brave enough to ask for more.

Ugh she was such a loser, it was no wonder Luka had never even—well, he had said a word to her, actually. Words like Are you all right? and Can I help you with that? and Wow, thanks, that’s so cool of you . Because he was sweet and nice as well as good looking, and if she’d had any guts at all maybe she could have— 

“Marinette?” 

She whirled, and Luka was standing there, his bag at his feet, closing the last two buttons of a black dress shirt. “Are you all right?” he asked as he began rolling the sleeves up to bare his forearms. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” 

“What? No, of course not.” Marinette clamped her teeth down on her tongue before she could blurt something like I have shirtless men in my home all the time . Luka was looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.  

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have gone back to my place to finish up, I wasn’t—I mean I didn’t mean to impose or anything.” 

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then gave him a genuine smile. “You didn’t. Really, Luka, I wasn’t bothered. I just, um. I got emotional about something for a moment there, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

Luka nodded. “Something about bad dating karma?” he guessed, voice so gentle it made her ache. 

“More or less.” Marinette tried to smile.

“Well,” Luka sighed, finishing the second sleeve. “Honestly I haven’t been too lucky in that department myself. I was hoping tonight would change that, but...maybe...maybe it isn’t the best time after all.” 

“What?” Marinette cried, staring at him. “Why? Luka, you seemed like you liked this girl so much, and you’re all dressed up.” She stepped to him and adjusted the set of his collar without thinking. “You look so good, it’ll be great. She won’t be able to resist you. Believe me, I know it’s scary to put yourself out there, but won’t you regret it if you don’t?” I do .  

Luka caught her wrists gently. “Yeah, I really think I would.” He grinned. “Now I just need to ask her.” 

Marinette blinked up at him. “You didn’t ask her?” she asked, bewildered. “Isn’t it going to be kind of short notice?” She frowned. “You said you had a date tonight.” 

Luka dipped his head in a kinda-sorta motion. “I said I was supposed to have a date tonight,” he chuckled. “And I would have—or at least I hope so—if I’d asked you out two days ago when I planned. But then I got home from work and of course I was sweaty and gross and then my shower wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t talk to you while I was disgusting. Not when you’re always so pretty and neat and put together.” 

Marinette’s cheeks flushed. 

“And then Pierre didn’t show and he didn’t show and he didn’t show,” Luka rolled his eyes. “And if I didn’t ask you out today, I’d owe my buddy that runs the cat rescue my favorite signed Jagged Stone album. He’s been bugging me about asking you out for like a month.” He grinned. “Ever since you brought me the cat food? He could see how much I liked you and he decided then and there we were meant to be, and somehow I let him talk me into this stupid—bet or dare or whatever, that if I didn’t man up by today...well. I would’ve asked you anyway one way or another.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she was sure her face must be on fire.

“So, now that I’m presentable,” Luka grinned slowly. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight? I heard about this really good Indian place. Maybe afterwards we could grab dessert and take a walk in the park? I’d really like to get to know you better.” 

Marinette gasped, and then her lips pursed into a pout. Luka laughed. “You’re mean,” she told him, kicking his shin lightly.

Luka’s shoulders hunched a little, and he looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry for teasing.” He blushed. “I guess I was nerving myself up a bit, telling you how much I liked you without you knowing, but I didn’t think about how it would come across. I didn’t mean to upset you. No pressure, okay?” He slid his hands from her wrists to her hands and lowered them between them. “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings. Just, like you said. I’d regret it if I didn’t try.” 

“But—” Marinette let go of his hands as her own flew to her hair. “I’m not dressed for a date!” 

Luka chuckled. “You look gorgeous to me. But I can wait if you want to change.” 

Marinette reddened. “I—w-well, I mean...I mean I guess we could—” Luka laid a finger on her lips.

“Breathe,” he told her, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re really cute, you know that?”  

That didn’t help her efforts to calm down, but she did manage to breathe, despite the very distracting slide of his finger as it left her lips. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you better be prepared because I’m going all out for our second date.” 

Luka’s grin went wide and bright and more than a little silly. “I can’t wait.”   

ETA:  Okay, yes, I know this was a bit mean for Marinette. I did actually really waffle about it while I was writing it and I almost scrapped it a couple times, but the whole point of the timer is to keep me on task and stop the second guessing and overthinking that was sabotaging me, so I ran with it. I did ultimately decide to keep it because really, they haven't had a chance to really talk or anything here, and so Luka doesn't really know that Marinette's into him. He's aware there's some attraction between them, but he doesn't know how hard she's crushing. So really, he's just a bit insecure himself and psyching himself up a bit for The Moment. So I justify it to myself anyway. As soon as he's able to actually take in her mood he's aware he's messed up. If you can't forgive him, that's okay. Mari will get him back later.

Fiction Master Post

[descendantofthesparrow]

Soulmate au! Countdown - Harry Hook x Reader -oneshot

soulmate au idea sent in by Anonymous 

=

Everyone in the world was born with a watch, not on their wrists or anywhere attached to them, just a simple watch that would appear when a new soul was born into the world. Doctors would blink, and suddenly, next to the new babe, was a watch.

A watch that had a set date of years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the new soul would meet their soulmate, the one destined to love them forever.

Some watches were simple ones, a simple leather band with a plain clock attached to go around their wrist. Some got more…exotic clocks, one person, whose soulmate was an astrologist, watch had planets instead of hands to tell the time.(luckily for the person, who didn’t know how to read the time by looking at planets, there was still a small digital timer in the middle just above the sun) some had intricately carved pocket watches, some had sundials.

Prince Ben’s watch had confused some people, being a pure gold and silver watch, rusted slightly (and unable to be buffed to perfection as so many tried) with a horned dragon decorating the top, the back engraved with thorned vines. It wasn’t till years later, as Ben locked eyes with Mal, the daughter of Maleficent, did the watches ticking stop (small A/N; Ben and Audrey don’t date since they know they aren’t meant to be already. Okay let's get back into it!)

Audrey’s watch hung off a silver necklace, the top cover being diamond-like glass that seemed to shine like magic. Her watch had stopped when she met Chad at only six months old, his rose gold wristwatch stopping at the same time.

Doug's watch, a gorgeous gold-plated pocket watch decorated with heart-shaped red rubies, had stopped when he first locked eyes with Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen, who for a small while had denied that her own watch had stopped ticking, and had only admitted it after she and her friends had proclaimed their decision to turn their backs on their parent's evil ways.

Most people your age had met their soulmate already, you knew some who had yet to meet theirs but mostly everyone had already been found.

Not that you personally knew that.

You hardly talked to anyone really, so how were you to know if someone had found their soulmate yet or not.

You were just a regular person in a school of the descendants of heroes and royalty, a loner at that. The only interesting about you was your watch.

It was a gorgeous gold watch with thin black paint under the gold curved detailing that looked like waves, surrounding the outer rim of the cover, with an anchor and a ship's steering wheel in the middle of the cover, the back was a carved compass, the entire thing connected to a strong bronze chain.

You admired it every day, excitement and anxiety running through you as every second passed. And those feelings were amplified recently.

The clock now read seven days, seven hours, eight minutes, and forty seconds. It was only that until you met your soulmate.

You only hoped they wouldn’t think you weren’t worth their time…as everyone else did.

-

Harry had been born with a pretty plain-looking pocket watch, smooth and silver metal protecting the gears.

You could imagine the surprise he felt when he finally opened it for the first time. The inner works of his watch were beautiful, the silver metal had turned to gold, curving details surrounded the hands and timer, a shining scale texture covered the inside of the cover, never leaving a residue on his finger when he traced it.

Many villain kids were told to never open their watches, being told that it was pointless to even look since they would never need their soulmate in the first place.

Some obeyed, some, like Harry, had gotten too curious and looked anyway, and some just looked because they could.

And Harry couldn't say he regretted looking, every day he grabbed his watch and popped it open, smiling as the ticking hands signified the ever-coming day of meeting his soulmate.

Like now, it read seven days, five hours, three minutes, and seven seconds. Coincidently, it matched the same day he would be going to Auradon prep, seven months after king Ben had invited the original four to Auradon.

His closest friend, Uma, had a plan to get the wand and do what the original four couldn’t. but Harry had another plan.

He wanted to meet his soulmate, he knew they couldn’t have been on the isle, he had met basically everyone on the isle, there was no other explanation than for his soulmate to be in Auradon.

He looked up from his watch to gaze at the bright lights of Auradon, his breath visible as he let out a sigh and leaned against the rails of the lost revenge. “you ready for next week?” he suppressed a flinch as Uma suddenly appeared next to him, joining him to look at  Auradon.

“aye” he simply muttered back, clenching his pocket watch in his hand. He looked away slightly as Uma turned towards him, her brow quirked.

“…you want to find them, don’t you?” Uma asked, turning back to Auradon and resting her chin in her hand.

Harry stayed silent.

Uma reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder “I won't stop you from doing that, I know our parents told us that soulmates are bullshit but I could give less of a fuck, if you decide not to go through with everything because of them, I’ll leave you two alone…” Harry sighed in slight relief and turned to Uma.

“even if it would ruin yer plans?” Harry asked softly, laughing as Uma grumbled a bit.

“yeah yeah…if you’re happy im happy” Harry tossed his arm over Uma’s shoulder and pulled her into his side, grinning as she quietly complained at the hug.

“Thank yeh Uma” he whispered, closing his eyes as Uma sighed against him and hugged him back.

“you’re my best friend Harry, I would do anything for you” Harry smiled against her hair, squeezing her shoulder a bit before letting her go as she started to bat at his chest “Alright alright that’s enough, come on we got night shit to do” Harry snorted and shook his head a bit, grabbing his hat from the milk crate next to him and flipping it on, whistling slightly as he followed Uma off the ship.

-

You looked up from your summer history essay as a group of girls rushed up to the window, giggling to themselves as they pointed out whatever it was they were talking about.

‘oh right’ you mentally sighed, closing your book and packing it away, knowing that the study hall you were in was going to be filled with the laughter of these girls for who knows how long ‘the new vks’

You spared a glance back at the girls, sighing wistfully to yourself as they smiled amongst each other.

What you would give to have friends like that, but you had always been closed in on yourself and always froze up when someone tried to talk to you, that you had never gotten the chance to make friends.

You shrugged your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the study hall “where to go now” you whispered to yourself, taking out your pocket watch and smiling slightly at it, rubbing your thumb against the wheel before popping it open.

Six hours, forty-five minutes, and seven seconds.

You would meet your soulmate today.

You closed the watch and held it against your chest, letting out a giggly sigh and walking towards the other end of the dorms to get to the other study hall so you would write your essay in peace.

Behind you, you heard king Ben talking, taking a glance back you saw a flash of a scarlet red coat pass by the entrance to the hallway you had just entered. You brushed it off and looked back in front of you.

-

One and a half hours, ten minutes, and forty seconds.

Harry stared anxiously at his watch, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor of his new room. “you know if you just sit and stare at that thing it's not going to go any faster” Gil offered, setting his new laptop down and sitting next to Harry, reaching out to close the watch.

Harry blinked back into reality, pouting at Gil slightly. Gil just gave him a look and pushed the watch towards Harry's chest “sitting in here won't help you find them either, go explore or something, you might find them easier” Harry huffed and grabbed his watch, sticking it in his pocket and walking out of the room “you’ll thank me later!”

-

You groaned a bit as you rolled your shoulders, you had finished your essay, along with a handful of other projects, and had decided you needed a break. So it was off to your “secret” spot near the dorms, it was well hidden by the forest and you had to cross a hanging bridge to get to it so hardly anyone knew about it.

You shrugged off your top and pants, kicking off your shoes and setting everything next to your towel and watch before diving in.

Underneath the water your body shimmered, your legs turning to a transitioning (f/c) and (f/c) tail with a strong fabric-like tail, scales the same color as your tail appeared next to your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, your shoulders being covered as well.

You let out a soft sigh as you swam through the clear water, trailing your fingers across the smooth rocks that lay at the bottom of the lake.

You picked up a particularly shiny clear and black one, swimming back up to the surface and examining it, humming to yourself as you waded through the water.

-There once was a ship that put to sea/ And the name of that ship was the Billy o' Tea/ The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down/ Blow my bully boys blow-

You started to sing one of your favorite sea shanties aloud, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift across the surface of the lake as your voice echoed around you.

- Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing' is done/ We'll take our leave and go-

-

Harry sighed quietly as he walked around the grounds of Auradon prep, tubbing his thumb against the smooth metal of his watch as the comforting -tick tock- of its gears rang in his ears.

He sighed again as he stopped in the middle of a pathway, running his hand through his messy hair. He pulled out the watch and quirked his brow.

three minutes, forty seconds.

Suddenly something caught his attention, he turned his head towards the forest, his lips separating as a lovely drifted towards him.

He started walking towards it, entering into the forest and pushing past the bushes that covered the main path. He quickly walked over the hanging bridge that led him directly to a sparkly crystal-clear lake.

And wading in the water of that lake was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or heard.

- No line was cut, no whale was freed/ An' the captain's mind was not on greed/ But he belonged to the Whaleman's creed/ She took that ship in tow -

As he walked closer to the mermaid, he didn’t notice the timer on the watch tick down to the seconds.

3…2...1.

Suddenly the mermaid looked up from their rock and gasped, her glowing (e/c) eyes locking with his ocean blue.

The ticking stopped.

The mermaid squealed in embarrassment and ducked under the water, Harry quickly snapped out of his stupor and ran towards the edge of the lake, kneeling at it and looking around for the mermaid who had suddenly disappeared. “where did yeh go?” he whispered, yelping and falling back on his butt as the mermaid suddenly popped up in front of his face and tried to reach for her items behind Harry.

He watched her struggle to reach toward them before she groaned and flopped on the ground, her top half lying pitifully on the dry ground as her tail angrily hit the surface of the water.

Harry let out a soft chuckle and looked behind him, spotting a gold pocket watch resting just next to a (f/c) towel, he glanced back at the mermaid for a moment before reaching out for the watch and gently handing it to the mermaid.

She quickly popped it open and gasped.

Harry watched as the mermaid just stared at her watch, then slowly look up at him. He took out his watch and popped it open, stopping as he realized the clock had stopped.

00:00:00:00:00:00 blinked rapidly

Harry looked back at the mermaid and turned his watch towards her. She reached out slightly, looking at him for permission to take it.

He pushed it into her hand and she set it next to her watch, a smile growing on her face as the blinking of the timers synchronized perfectly. Only soulmate watches could sync perfectly as they did.

She looked back up at Harry with a wide grin, Harry's heart fluttering like crazy as she did.

“I found you” she whispered in the most melodic voice, squeaking a bit as Harry stood and started to strip out of his clothes “what are you doing?!” she yelled, pushing off the edge and diving down under the water a bit, only her eyes and the top of her head above the water.

“joinin’ yeh,” Harry responded simply, kicking off his shoes and pants and tossing them aside with his shirt, jacket, and belts.

Once he was down to just his underwear, he jumped into the water next to his soulmate, closing his eyes as he sank into the surprisingly deep lake.

Almost immediately after he jumped in, arms wrapped around his waist and kept him afloat. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the glowing ones of his soulmate, their pupils slanted as they stared back at him.

Harry let a smile grow on his lips as he and his soulmate floated under the water. Then Harry's body proceeded to realize he was underwater and that he needed air.

His soulmate watched him look up, realize what he was doing, and grabbed his face. Harry looked at them and let out a muffled squeak as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He snapped his eyes shut and felt his face burn with a blush as she licked his lips and opened his mouth, breathing into him.

She pulled back and giggled, which oddly wasn’t muffled. Harry opened one of his eyes and pouted slightly as his soulmate covered her mouth with one of her hands as she laughed at his expression.

He took a breath to say something, but then realized he was breathing underwater. He gave her a wide-eyed look and she giggled again.

“mermaid kisses can let the person breath and speak underwater” her voice purred, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to the surface. Harry shook his head, smirking as his soulmate squealed a bit as the water droplets hit her.

“I’m Harry” Harry spoke first, swimming slightly closer to his soulmate and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek “Harry Hook.”

“(y-y/n) (l/n)” she squeaked slightly, Harry smirking at the heat that burned against his lips as he pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I think” he pulled back and pressed a kiss to her other cheek “you and I are going to get along very well~” he purred, grinning as (y/n) set her forehead against his.

“whys that?” she hummed, pushing her lips together as Harry tightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“a pirate and a mermaid? What's a better match than tha’?”

-end-

Short but sweet, might do another one of the suggestions! Thanks for reading!

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@rintheemolion​

[writev]

every summer, you traveled to the coast, where your grandparents' sweets shop sat pristinely in a colorful beach town awash with tourists and money that burned holes in their pockets. they were generous with tips and that, along with the kindness of your family members and the gorgeous sunsets that reflected red and orange on the ocean, made for some perfect summer memories.

you'd spent all semester looking forward to this trip, burning through your finals in a caffeinated, yet exhausted rage that left you spinning when it was over. the very next day, you hopped on the train with a single suitcase and prepared for the long trip to the sea. you watched through the window as city buildings melted into long grassy plains into palm trees, the music in your earbuds growing more upbeat. it was finally time for your summer to begin. 

your grandmother greeted you at the tiny station, pinching your cheeks and grinning wide. she wrapped you in a warm embrace, rambling about the renovations they'd just completed and how gorgeous you would find the shop.

"i won rock-paper-scissors, so i get to pick you up while he manages the homefront," she said with a wink, and you chuckled in response, climbing into her little red four-door sedan. it was only late afternoon, sun and sky bright, but your trip had worn you out and you fought the urge to drift into sleep. instead, the two of you spent the drive catching up as you filled her in on your classes and friends and she updated you on your favorite locals.

"oh," she said, "it was so sad to see the songs move out, but a new family bought their place fast! i swear, it felt like a matter of days before they were all settled in. they have this adorable puppy, and a boy your age!"

"wow, for real?" it was rare to see people your own age there, as most, like yourself, went to the colleges in the northern cities. "where's he working?"

"that art store mr. liu runs- he says the kid's doing a good job."

"huh. i'm glad he finally gave in and hired some help."

she snorted. "tell me about it, kiddo. i've known that geezer my whole life and that damned stubbornness never changes. renjun's a real persuasive character, i'll tell you that. not to mention one hell of an artist! if you stop in, i'm sure you can see some of his stuff."

renjun, huh... 

-

when you finally reached the candy shop, you jumped out of the car, bouncing with childish excitement to see your grandfather again. fondly, your grandmother chuckled. 

“c’mon kiddo, help me carry in your bags. my arms are old and frail, y’know!”

“oh!” you quickly grabbed your biggest suitcase. “sorry, ma!”

she just laughed once more, waving you inside and upstairs to the living area. “put your stuff down, then change into uniform!”

your grandmother put you straight to work every summer, but you still played along, whining. “but i just got hereeeeee...”

patting your head, she mimicked your tone. “but i have arthritisssssss...”

you cracked up. “ma, my first boyfriend thought you were my aunt.”

“and now look at me! an old hag.”

“fine, baba yaga, i’ll get changed.”

“baba yaga!?” fake-offended, she pinched your cheek and waltzed out. “this witch is off to nap! wake me up when we’ve closed for the day!”

grin plastered on your face, you pulled a vintage red-and-white pinstripe apron from the closet, your shiny nametag still pinned on from last summer. it was time to get to work.

-

your grandfather pulled you into a tight hug as soon as you appeared behind the counter. “there’s my favorite part-timer!”

“and favorite grandkid!” you exclaimed, hugging him back just as tight. 

he shushed you, eyes bright. “can’t let the others find out.”

hand on your hips, you surveyed the shop. at the moment, there were six or so people milling about, all in various kinds of beachwear. the wooden shelves, all built by your grandfather himself, were stacked with candies. while they sold some name brand candies, most were made by your grandmother and other locals with time on their hands. you’d tried it a handful of times and, while far more difficult than you’d expected, the feeling of making a great batch was rewarding beyond belief. then to see little kids running around enjoying your handmade candy? the most fulfilling feeling in the world. 

the shop itself was small, with natural wood and sea glass decorations accentuated by sky blue walls. it always smelled like the beach, since you were right on the boardwalk, and while that meant that it often got crowded in the little building, it also meant that your grandparents weren’t suffering from a lack of business, which gave you and your parents a great sense of relief. your favorite part of the shop, though, was the old fashioned bronze bell, which rang every time the door-

ring!

in walked a middle-aged man you’d never seen before. 

“mr. huang!” your grandfather said. “good to see you stop in.”

the man smiled politely. “good to see you too. it’s a lovely day out.”

“isn’t it just! mr. huang, this is the grandkid i was telling you all about.” he turned to you. “this is mr. huang, his family bought the songs’ old place.”

you reached out to shake his hand, excited and a little nervous. “it’s nice to meet you! my grandmother just told me that your son is working for mr. liu now, right?”

he shook your hand firmly. “why, yes he is. a bright kid, that boy, if i may brag.”

laughing, you were about to continue the conversation when a family approached the register, and you rushed to check them out. they had a small mountain of items, and your grandparents were committed to the vintage aesthetic, so by the time you finished handwriting their receipt and checking off their purchases in the store’s book, mr. huang had selected a bag of chocolates and two caramel bars. 

shortly after handing you the exact change, he took the chocolates in hand and pushed the caramel bars to you. “would you take one of those to my son for me, please? i’m afraid he doesn’t get off work until half past eight. the other one is payment, if you don’t mind.”

your grandfather popped his head up from where he’d been fixing the candies at the front of the counter. “go ahead, kid. it’s an awful short walk and the breeze is perfect right now.” 

smiling, you couldn’t help but agree, especially if you’d get caramel out of it. “of course! thank you, mr. huang.” 

“thank you. i’m so sorry i must rush off, but have a nice day.”

he was out the door in a flash, and your grandfather straightened up with a smirk. “now, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he was trying to set you two up.”

“pa!”

belly-laughing, he shrugged. “i dunno, kid, your last boyfriend was an artist too.”

you scoffed and grabbed the two bars from the countertop, stuffing them into the front pocket of your apron. “i’m going to deliver these in record time.”

“now, now, take it slow! have a nice conversation! not too nice, though, if you-”

you were definitely out the door in record time.

-

admittedly, your grandfather was right about the breeze. it tousled your hair without whipping it into a frenzy and cut down on the heat significantly. yet, the sun beat down and you found yourself weaving under storefronts for some shade, waving at the shopkeepers you’d known your whole life. the atmosphere here was so warm and friendly that you always missed it when autumn hit. 

it took a mere five minutes to reach mr. liu’s art shop, tucked away in a back alley, slightly distanced from the rush of the boardwalk. it was quieter here, and you inhaled deeply before entering, no bell on the door to announce your arrival. when you were younger, you stopped by somewhat often, but as you got older and busier, you came in less and less, occupied by your studies and your grandparents’ store. the inside of the shop was as beautiful as ever, though. paintings and sketches covered the walls, making it near impossible to see the original paint. while the few windows were small, mr. liu used an assortment of small lamps rather than fluorescent lights, making the shop feel warm and cozy. in the back, a line of easels showed off painting after painting of the same dishware set, most likely from his tuesday art classes. you stepped closer, trying to get a better look. you had a habit of trying to pick your favorite every time they were on display, and you were in the midst of analyzing them when a boy exited the back room.

he blinked a couple times, then put on a polite, customer-service smile. “hello! let me know if you need help finding anything.”

pausing, you took a moment to process his two-toned hair, blond on the bottom and black on top, big brown eyes, and collared black shirt. his face was a little delicate... pretty. the way it contrasted with his sharp jaw and deep voice had you feeling knocked off-kilter. “um...” his nametag read renjun. “yeah, actually.”

renjun nodded, focused on you.

“uh, well, your dad stopped by the candy store and asked me to deliver this to you.” you pulled out one of the caramel bars and passed it to him. his hands had specks of dried green paint on them.

“he...” renjun reached up to rub his forehead, visibly embarrassed but smiling genuinely now. “i’m so sorry, i can tip-”

“oh, don’t worry!” you cut him off, rushing to explain. “he got me one too!” grinning sheepishly, you pulled yours out of your pocket. 

the boy was speechless, but sighed. “still... here, come up front.”

gingerly, you followed him to the counter. “i really didn’t mind, it’s nice out. plus it meant i got a bonus break.”

he laughed a little at that, then started flipping through a black sketchbook left on the counter, stopping near the end to gently pull out a page. “if you like it, you can keep it.” he shifted a little, nervous. 

you looked down at a gorgeous painting of the night sky. the silhouette of a tree took center stage, branches bending and reaching up. brilliant blues and purples framed bright white stars. it was breathtaking. 

“this is... beautiful.” you tore your eyes up, gazing into renjun’s. “that was a two dollar candy bar.” 

his shoulders shook with giggles, and, just like the painting, you found it far too hard to look away. “it’s okay. it’s an apology for the inconvenience.” now that he’d gathered himself, you couldn’t help but find his posture regal. there was something prince-like about the way he held his head, polite and self-assured. “my dad... he’s a little worried about the lack of people my age here. so he’s going overboard.”

you shook you head emphatically. “not at all! i mean, i’m glad he came in.” oh no, that sounded so weird. “i rarely visit the art shop these last few years, so yeah...”

renjun nodded along. “i understand.”

awkward silence filled the space between you. shifting, you took a step back. 

“well, i have to head back to work... i’ll come by again, though, if that’s okay!”

the boy smiled, teasing. “i can’t exactly stop you.”

-

the next day was a saturday, meaning that the shop was packed. you helped your grandparents from sunrise to sundown, and your feet ached by the end. wrapping you in a hug, your grandmother thanked you and, as per usual, pinched your cheeks hard enough to sting.

“you are an angel, kiddo. i’ll make your favorite for dinner.”

“see, that’s why i visit!”

she flicked your ear, yet chuckled, and slowly made her way up the stairs to start cooking. your grandfather went to help her, but paused in his tracks. 

“my gosh, i forgot to check the mail. would you be able to do that for me real quick? i swear the rest of the night is yours!”

you agreed easily, making your way to the metal box mounted on the outside wall. opening it, you pulled out a stack of papers: two magazines, a couple bills, and one envelope with... only your name on it. puzzled, you headed upstairs and showed your grandparents.

“well,” your grandfather said, “open it up! maybe you’ve got a secret admirer,” he winked.

you and your grandmother scoffed in unison. 

“if it’s anyone giving you trouble, you’d better pray for them,” she said, tapping her wooden spoon to her hand threateningly. 

finally, you opened the envelope, and pulled out a small watercolor painting. it was abstract, but incredibly pretty, with pinks, blues, and yellows blending together in a soft, simple design. 

“wow...” you whispered, reverent. 

your grandfather leaned closer to appraise it. “now ain’t that something. dear, come take a look.”

sighing, your grandmother abandoned her food prep, but smiled when she saw it. “wonder who that could be from,” she grinned.

you couldn’t help but blush, and your grandfather guffawed. 

“might i suggest another candy delivery to a certain art shop?”

“pa!” you ducked your head, but... “yeah.” a soft smile overtook your face. “maybe i’ll make the bar myself this time.”

-

this year, when summer ended, it was with lips on yours and yet another painting slipped into your back pocket.

a painting with a phone number written in the bottom left corner. 

[ocean-blue-whump]

Lucky

For @febuwhump Day 22: Restrained

Dax Del Mar Masterlist

Tagging @ashintheairlikesnow @outofangband @batfacedliar-yetagain - let me know if you want to be added/removed!

TW: male whump, serial killer whumper, kidnapping + escape, noncon touching, threat of noncon, NSFWHUMP, 18+, alcohol tw, creepy whumper

***

Dax’s head is swimming as he stumbles forward, being dragged down the hallway by a tall, lean man with hipster-style stubble. “Where are we going?” he slurs, addled by the shots of vodka he had thirty minutes ago.

“Just a few more steps, gorgeous. My apartment is just down the hall.” Michael, that’s his name, puts his heavy hand on Dax’s neck. “You’re lucky I found you, huh? Before something awful happened to you.”

Dax hesitantly nods. 

“Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be all alone.” Michael stops in front of a door and pulls out his keys, opening the door. “Come on in.”

The apartment is spotlessly cleaned, but the smell of days old meat hangs in the air. Dax has been in worse, but it still makes him wrinkle his nose.

“You can go to the living room,” Michael says. “I’ll just get us some beers.”

“Oh-okay,” Dax says, taking a hesitant step forward, turning his back to Michael. There’s something off here, his instincts are telling him to run for the hills and never look back. Instead, he moves into the living room, awkwardly standing there with his arms crossed across his chest. 

There’s something very not right with this place, and something very not right with Michael. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t fucking move.

He’s been in worse places, he’s had worse feelings and it was always something he could survive. This will be nothing. This will be easy.

“Michael?” he calls out softly. He’s been standing here for a while, it shouldn’t take this long to get a beer.

“Relax, gorgeous. God, you’re so fucking pretty. I’m keeping you safe. Don’t worry. Just…relax.” Michael’s voice is calm and even and chilling. Dax doesn’t have time to turn around before something is slamming into the back of his head and he’s unconscious before he hits the floor.

***

Dax’s eyes slowly open, staring up at a moldy ceiling. His head is throbbing, sticky with…blood. 

Oh, fuck. 

His silver eyes open wide and he tries to sit up, but his wrists are tied to the headboard of Michael’s bed with rough rope. He thrashes to his side, seeing bloodstains on the mattress, and his breath comes quickly. 

His shirt is gone, Michael must have took it. Dax’s heart is hammering against his rib, almost painfully. He’s going to die here, tied to a bed in a strange apartment and he didn't tell anyone where he was going. 

Footsteps sound outside of the room, the door creaks and opens slowly. Michael is holding a carving knife in his right hand and Dax squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to die here. 

He can’t bring himself to look, not even as the flat side of the knife runs across his abdomen and Michael chuckles. “I told you that you were too pretty for your own good.”

Dax keeps his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to see what Michael is doing, feeling it is enough to make his stomach turn over. 

Hands are on the button of his jeans, undoing it, undoing the zipper. 

Dax can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe, if his eyes are open the walls would be caving in on him just like his lungs are collapsing. 

A hand, palming him over his underwear and Dax would throw up if he could. 

He tugs on his restraints and the rough rope digs into his wrists. At least the spark of pain means he’s here. Means he’s real. 

That same hand, teasing at his waistband, slipping a hand inside and Dax has the fleeting worry that Michael will fuck him after he’s dead, too.

Michael’s fingers are sweaty and gross and—

A timer goes off in the background. 

Dax’s eyes fly open, and his look of fear is met with cold, dead, monstrous eyes. Michael smiles. “That’s my dinner, gorgeous. I’ll be back.” He leans up and presses a kiss to the well of Dax’s collarbone. 

For a split second, Dax deludes himself into believing that he’ll be safe for another thirty minutes, so he can try to come to terms with what’s about to happen to him. 

It doesn’t last long. Michael’s smile melts into a sinister frown. “I can’t have you running on me.”

A chill runs up Dax’s spine, he croaks out, “No, please, I promise I won’t.”

Michael’s smile returns. “Lies.”

Dax sobs, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

It happens in a flash, pain shooting through his body, and it happens again. Blood drips from the soles of his feet, a straight line cut through the bottom of each, splitting it in half vertically. 

Dax screams, his whole body jerking as the pain sears through him, then going limp. He’s still crying, it still hurts like hellfire.

Michael chuckles. “You scream pretty. Just like those eyes. I’ll be back, gorgeous. Then the fun can start.

With the door closed, Dax whimpers pathetically. It hurts, his feet are burning with the pain. 

This can’t be the end of the line. He wonders if he’ll be kept alive long enough to get withdrawal symptoms.

Yeah, no. 

Fuck that. 

Dax isn’t dying here, after being tortured and raped and fucking hell, he’s not withdrawing while tied to a bloodstained bed. 

He has one option. Dax starts pulling at his restraints, the rope rubbing at his sensitive skin. He doesn’t have another choice. Blood runs down his arms, all the way to his shoulders, and the pain is worse than his feet, but he doesn’t have another choice. 

Dax grits his teeth and keeps going. 

One wrist pops free and he gasps in relief, sitting up quickly to free the other one. His skin is shredded, but it’s better than nothing. It’s better than being dead. 

When his feet hit the floor, leaving bloody tracks, he bites back a hiss of pain. He has to be quiet, he has to be good and quiet and make not a single noise as he limps to the window, bleeding profusely. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, dried blood clumping his black hair together.

Michael didn’t lock the window. Dax smiles. He thought of everything but locking the window, and now, Dax can go. He can save himself for once. 

There’s loud noises from the kitchen, plates scraping together. Dax has to move fast. He opens the window with skilled, deft hands, despite the blood loss. He’s done this before. It hurts, slipping out onto the fire escape, feet bleeding anywhere, but he did it. He fucking did it. 

So much for just going to get a beer. 

There’s not time to button his pants, Dax is making his way down the fire escape, wincing with each movement. He probably has a concussion, he’s some serious wound disinfecting. 

There’s no time to stop and think about that. 

Dax runs down the fire escape and hits the ground hard, taking off running. Get to the sidewalk. He’s lucky, he’s so fucking lucky that he didn’t suffer worse.

Even at Bas’s house, nursing his wounds in the bathroom sink, his heart is still racing. But it was just some freak accident. Nothing worse could happen to him. 

Right?

***

Local man Michael Denenbourough, age 38, has been identified as the Bar Killer and arrested on 7 counts of first degree homicide, aggravated assault with the intent to kill, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, 9 counts of sexual assault, possession of illegal substances, torture, and kidnapping. The Bar Killer has been active over the past year and a half, taking young gay men from bars and luring them back to his apartment, where he would tie them to his bed and assault them over the course of several days before he would slit their throat and cut the body into small pieces. He has seven known victims, but police believe there could be up to twelve victims dead and many more who escaped, but never came forward with their experience. More on this story as it develops.

[softholand]

chocolate kisses - t.h

pairing: bestfriend!tom x youtuber!reader

words: 2.9k

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: so... i did it again!!! i had this ideia after watching a video like this from one of my favorite youtubers. anyway, i really hope you guys enjoy and please do let me know what you think!! again, english is not my first language so that’s that. thank you @definitely-not-black-cat for proofreading this, you’re the best and i love you 💛 enjoy!!!!!!

You adjusted the lenses of your camera one more time, making sure everything was ready to start recording. Since you started making videos for the internet and became a youtuber, you were practically obligated to learn about filmography. Sometimes you had your friend Harry around to help, since he’s a professional but today he got a job to do, so you were on your own. In fact, you had another Holland around, the oldest of them all and your best friend since you were kids, Tom.

Ever since you made your youtube channel, your viewers have been begging you to bring Tom to a video, so when the opportunity came, you finally asked him and he was more than happy to accept.

“You ready?” You asked your brown haired friend.

“Yep!” He said, making sure to really pop the “p”, knowing you hated when he did that.

“Tom, I was being serious earlier. I need you to behave!” You said, feeling like you were talking to a child instead of a 24 year old.

But that was the thing about your friendship with Tom, when you guys were together it felt like time hasn’t passed at all and you were still two little kids, doing stupid things and constantly misbehaving.

“I got this! Don’t worry!” Tom answered, a smile wide on his face.

“Saying not to worry actually makes me worry even more, you know?” You huffed, making sure the memory card was in.

“It’ll be fine, y/n! I promise!” He said, looking at you with those big brown eyes that made you forget what you were even asking.

“Okay, I’m going to start!” You told, seeing him clap his hands excitedly, but the years of friendship had taught you that this was just a thing he did when he was actually nervous. “And go!” You said, pressing the record button and joining your friend behind the kitchen island, where you had all the ingredients for the recipe already measured.

“Hey everyone, welcome back to another video! This week we have another one of the baking series and if you couldn’t already see, I have a guest with me today. Ladies and gentlemen, the star of the moment and my very own best friend, Tom Holland!” You said enthusiastically, while he observed you with a big smile on his face.

“Hello everybody, I’m Tom and I’m really excited to be here today!” He said, giving a little wave at the camera.

“Today we’re making a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. This is one of my absolute favorites and it’s actually your mom’s recipe, that she was kind enough to pass me so I could share it.” You explained, looking at your friend.

“I love this cake! Mum used to make it when we were kids but suddenly she stopped doing it, saying we were too grown up.” Tom pouted to the camera, making you laugh.

“Well, it’s your lucky day because we’re gonna start making it right now. You ready?” You asked, seeing him nod, looking at all the ingredients in front of him. “I know it seems like a lot but this cake it’s actually pretty easy and quick to make, just take a little while on the oven.” You explained, knowing he probably thought it was way too difficult for him to make a cake like that.

“Great! Where do we start?” Tom said excitedly, which again made you laugh.

“Okay, the first step is always preheat your oven, in this case at 180 ºC, for at least fifteen minutes before putting the cakes in. Then we can start creaming together the butter and sugar. I’m using a stand mixer today but you can totally use a hand one. It’ll work perfectly fine.” You said, pointing to the ingredients.

“This is such a pretty mixer, y/n! I wonder who could have given you something like that.” The boy beside you pointed to your pink Kitchenaid with a smirk on his face. “It was you, dumbass!” You said, shoving his shoulder.

“Wow, I’m such a good friend!” The smirk on his face grew even more, seeing you rolling your eyes at his antics. “Can you stop praising yourself and start making the cake?” You pleaded.

Tom nodded and after you told the camera the ingredients and correct measurements, he put them in the mixer, looking confused when he couldn’t find the buttons.

“It’s on the side, Tom!” You told him with a laugh, showing exactly how to do it.

While the butter and sugar creamed together, you took the time to observe your friend, who seemed completely entertained with it. A couple minutes passed and when everything was looking good, you told him to stop the mixer, so you didn’t have to shout at the camera.

“When you mix those two together, you can start adding your eggs, one at a time. Always remember to crack them on a separate bowl, to make sure you don’t ruin your mixture with a bad one.” At that, Tom’s eyes light up, as if you had said the most clever thing in the world. “You can turn the mixer on low while I’m adding the eggs.” You instructed Tom, who nodded and made exactly that.

“This is looking gross!” He said to you once he turned the mixer off.

“Yeah, it does not look pretty when you put the eggs in but as soon as we put the flour, it’ll all be fine.” You reassure him. “Also, stopping the mixer and scraping down the sides of the bowl will help everything incorporate much better.” You advised, giving a pink rubber spatula to your friend, so he could do what you just said.

“Still look gross!” Tom scrunched his face, making you laugh.

“Stop it, we’re going to add the rest of the ingredients now.” You scolded, which caused him to pout at you. “We’re going to put 1 tablespoon of baking powder, 1 teaspoon of bicarb, a pinch of salt and 1 cup of cocoa powder into the flour and mix it really well before alternating this with the buttermilk. Got it?” You asked him, making sure he understood your instructions.

“So, baking powder, bicarb, salt, cocoa powder, mixing really well.” He kept narrating his moves, which you found adorable.

“Okay, now we have to put the mixer on the lowest speed, otherwise we’ll have flour everywhere. And don’t look at me like that, we DO NOT want flour everywhere, Thomas!” The smirk plastered on his face was the same one of a child before doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

“I swear I didn’t think of doing that, y/n/n!” He stated, putting his arms up in surrender.

“Yeah, right! Like I didn’t know you for twenty four years.” You rolled your eyes, making him laugh.

Once he turned the machine back on, you slowly started to add the flour, followed by half of the buttermilk, more flour, more buttermilk and finally the rest of the dry mixture.

“Perfect! Now we can turn off the mixer and scrape the sides one more time, then turn back on for about a minute or so, just to make sure everything is really well combined.” You said smiling.

“That’s it?” Tom asked, as soon as you took the bowl out of the mixer. “That’s it, the batter is done! Easy, right?” You said and he nodded. “Now we can divide the batter into three separate pans that I already greased and lined with baking paper.”

“Baking paper?” He questioned, seemingly confused.

After explaining to him what baking paper was, you proceeded to put the batter equally into the pans.

Just as he was about to lick the spatula, you swatted his hand, making him wince. “Don’t eat that!” You exclaimed. “Why?” Tom asked.

“It has raw eggs and flour. It’s not safe!” You told him, sounding obvious. “Fine, I won’t.” He promised, putting the bowl and spatula aside.

With the pans ready, you told the camera you were going to put them in the oven, for about 40min or until a toothpick came out clean. While you were away, Tom looked right at the camera and sneakily gave the spatula a good lick, scrunching his face at the taste of raw batter. When you came back, you rolled your eyes at your friend.

“What?” He questioned, trying not to sound guilty. “Was it good?” You asked him with a smirk.

“What?” He repeated himself. “The batter, was it good?” You laughed, seeing him widen his eyes. “How do you know?” He asked, confused.

“You have some on your face, silly!” You said, throwing a towel at him. Tom flushed, feeling embarrassed for being caught. “It wasn’t even good!” Tom said, cleaning his face. “I told you!” You laugh at his scrunched face.

“Okay, now we’re going to clean this up and wait for the cakes to bake, then we’ll come back and make the icing.” You told him, walking to the camera and stopping the filming. “You’re such an idiot!” You tell your friend, making him laugh.

Even after you denied, Tom insisted on helping, but his help ended with him splashing and playing with water more than actually washing the dishes. When you finally got the kitchen cleaned, the timer of the oven went off, indicating the cakes were ready.

While the cakes cooled, you prepared the ingredients for the icing, which consisted in butter, icing sugar and melted chocolate. Once everything was ready, you joined Tom on the couch, where he scrolled through instagram on his phone.

“What are you looking at?” You asked plopping down next to him. “The comments on my last post.” He said, looking at you.

“Yeah? What is it?” You questioned, looking at your own phone, seeing a brand new notification. “It was you.” Tom answered plainly.

“What?” You almost yelled, quickly clicking on the instagram app, where you found a picture of you taking the cakes out of the oven. “Tom!” You exclaimed, sending an annoyed look at you friend.

“What? Everyone’s saying you look good!” He told you, making you groan. “Yeah, gorgeous!” You mocked.

“Oh, there’s one saying you have a great ass!” He smirked. “Thomas!” You send him a reproving look. “Not my words, darling!” He shrugged, the smirk he wore growing even bigger.

“They’re also saying we’ll make a cute couple.” Tom smiled, looking at you and catching your eye. “As if, Holland! As if!” You mocked, getting up from the couch and making your way back to the kitchen to check your cakes, while his eyes stayed on your body.

“You know what? They were right! You do have a great ass!” He smirked. “Can you stop being a flirt and help me finish this cake?” You asked, not believing the words that left his mouth.

Once your annoying friend joined you, you hit the play button again and started recording. “We’re back!” You said enthusiastically. “We’re back!” Tom repeated, making you laugh.

“Our cakes are baked and cooled, I’ve put them in the fridge now, just to make sure they’re completely cold when we put the icing, which we’re going to start making now.” You said to the camera, followed by the ingredients and correct measurements. “Once again, we’re using a stand mixer, but just as the cake, a hand mixer will also work. Now Tom, you can put the butter and sugar in the mixer, but be careful with the icing sugar, it’s very powdery and can go everywhere, so start at a lower speed and just go up when it’s fully incorporated.” You warned him.

“Right, boss!” He mocked, making you playfully hit his arm. “While you do this, I’m going to melt the chocolate, okay?” You asked and he nodded.

Just as you turned around to put the bowl in the microwave, you heard your mixer going on full speed. The sight that greeted you once you turned back to your friend, was unbelievable. Tom was covered with powdered sugar, from head to toes, his curls where white with the powder and the look on his face was one of pure regret.

“It really does go everywhere!” He said looking guilty.

“I can’t believe it, how old are you? 5?” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m old enough to do this!” Tom said before jumping at you and wrapping his arms around your body. “Tom!” You yelled, getting out of his grip.

“Now we’re equal!” The brunette winked, making your blood boil.

“You idiot! You know we’re gonna have to clean this mess, right?” You questioned, shaking some of the icing sugar from your clothes.

“It was worth it!” Tom laughed and hearing that sound made you chuckle too.

After a little bit of tidying up in the kitchen, you started recording again, this time hopeful that you could finally finish the cake.

“Now that the butter and sugar mixture is light and fluffy, we can add the melted chocolate and mix everything really well.” You informed, both Tom and the camera in front of you.

Tom helped you with the chocolate and after mixing the icing for a couple of minutes, you passed him a spatula to scrape the bowl and make sure everything was well combined. But, just as you were about to take the spatula back from his hands, he put it in his mouth, licking a stripe of the chocolate icing.

“Tom!!! Not the spatula that you’re mixing the frosting!!!” You yelled, seeing him roll his eyes. “Why not?” Asked the brunette.

“I’m going to eat that cake too!” You exclaimed, sounding obvious. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not like we never shared saliva before.” Tom smirked.

“You know I’m gonna have to cut this part off of the video, right?” You questioned, shaking your head at his cockiness. “Why?” He insisted, not taking that stupidly handsome smirk out of his face.

“Your fans already think that we’re a couple, they don’t need to know that we drunk kissed at my twentieth birthday party.” You stated, shaking your head to try and get rid of the memorie.

“Whatever, I think they would like it!” Tom winked, giving the spatula another lick. “Oh, they sure would!” You said, taking the object out of his hands and putting in the sink.

Back to the recipe, Tom helped you put the icing stuff away and bring the now cooled cakes, a knife, a cake stand and of course, a clean spatula to start icing it.

“Now with a clean spatula…” You said, glancing at your friend, that couldn’t help but laugh.

After filling the cakes, you helped him spread more chocolate icing on the sides and the top, before putting some sprinkles.

“It’s finished!” You screamed, making Tom laugh. “It looks really good. Can we eat?” He asked with hopeful eyes.

“Wait! I have to take some pictures first!” You warned, before taking your camera and snapping a few shots of the finished cake.

Once you were done, you finally let him slice the cake, putting the piece on a plate for you guys to try. “This cake it’s so good!” Tom moaned, taking another bite.

“It’s so moist and the icing is not too sweet. It’s just… perfect!” You agreed, also going for another bite, but Tom was quick to playfully take the plate away from you.

“Well, that was it! I hope you guys like the recipe and try to make it at home because it’s delicious. Thank you again for joining me today and helping with the cake, Tom!” You smiled, looking at your friend.

“Of course, thank you for inviting me and you guys for requesting this video.” He said, smiling at the camera.

“Don’t forget to subscribe and like this video, also leave your comments down below letting me know what other recipe you guys want me to make. I’ll see you next week. Bye!” You said waving at the camera, followed by Tom.

Once you finally finished recording, you and Tom got each one another piece of cake and went to sit on the sofa, where you eat it while watching some tv show.

Your attention was brought away from the show once you heard Tom lightly chuckled beside you.

“What?” You asked, already knowing he was up to something.

“You have chocolate on your mouth.” He said, pointing at your face.

“Of course I have chocolate on my mouth, I’m eating a freaking chocolate cake.” You rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean… outside of your mouth. Here, let me help you.” Tom offered, getting face to face with you.

And of course, just when you thought he was going to clean your face and just forget about it, he surprises you once again, this time taking you by the neck and sealing your lips together.

You were so startled that your first instinct was to fight, but once you realized the familiarity of his lips, you relaxed and kissed him back. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t leave you wanting more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this…” Tom, being the gentleman he was, started to ramble and apologize for what he had done but you just rolled your eyes.

“Just shut up!” You smiled, leaning back in and kissing him again.

You knew that you two would have a lot to talk about after this but right now, all that you wanted were more of those chocolate kisses.

tagging some mutuals: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @missnxthingg @peeterparkr @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @screamholland @fallinfortom

[lynyrdwrites]

long story short (KC)

This is based off the request for frienzoline + Klaroline, and long story short by Taylor Swift from @ofthedirewolves. It’s more Frienzoline than anything, but really? That should be expected.  It’s sort of disjointed, but I hope you enjoy.

---

Pushed from the precipice

Clung to the nearest lips

Wrong story short it was the wrong guy

“My story can be split into a series of losses.”

Enzo blinked at the solemnly spoken words.  He hadn’t thought vampires could get drunk, but he and Caroline had spent the past twelve hours proving that, actually, they very much could.  Apparently they had moved from the karaoke singing stage to the sad reminiscing.

“My story basically just consists of an Augustine cell and a lot of bloody, bloody experiments,” he said after a beat of silence, figuring that he needed to give an appropriately serious response.  Caroline moved her gaze from the roof, where she’d been staring as he spoke, to look at him instead.

“That’s sad,” she said at last.  “Forget my story.  Yours is just sad.  You deserve French fries to make up for that sad story.”

“Will they actually help with anything?” Enzo mused, and Caroline wrinkled her nose and shrugged.

“I dunno.  But they’re tasty.  Do you think Matt would bring us some, if I called him?”

After a long debate, they decided that, no, Matt Donovan wouldn’t deliver French fries to his ex and the crazy vampire he hated.  But it turned out there was a bag of frozen wedges in the Forbes’ freezer, and Caroline declared they were good enough.

Another debate then occurred, where he convinced her to bake them in the oven, instead of heating up the deep fryer.  Enzo had been in an overly destructive building fire once before, thank-you very much. He’d rather not repeat the experience.

So it was, twenty minutes later, Caroline was perched on the counter, nibbling on a still frozen wedge as the rest heated, while Enzo sat on a chair, bottle of tequila dangling from his fingers.  He had decided he hated tequila, but it did do an awfully good job of getting one drunk.

“Okay, so back to your series of stories.”

Caroline blinked at him, gaze fuzzy with alcohol, and Enzo sighed.

“Remember? My story can be split into a series of losses.” He gave the sentence the proper intonation, one of surly seriousness.  

“I didn’t sound like that,” she muttered, reaching for the tequila.  Enzo handed it over. After all, getting drunk had been her idea.

They were at almost thirteen hours after her mother’s funeral.  

“You kind of ruined my sad story,” she said at last, after swallowing a mouthful of the alcohol.  “With your whole sad, locked up vampire schtick. No one can stand up to that level of tragedy.”

“We’re not playing a game of who’s trauma is bigger-”

“Yeah, cause you would win.”

Enzo ignored that and pushed on, “We’re playing a game of share the trauma.  Share yours, Gorgeous.”

“I don’t have trauma.”

“The dead mother says otherwise.”

Caroline looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Did you know that she tried to kill me once? After I was turned.  Mommy tried to kill me and daddy tortured me.  I’m not sure what that says about me.”

“Probably that your trauma is much larger than you think.  Okay, dead mommy and daddy.  What would your other losses be?  Hit me.”

The timer of the oven went off, and Caroline pulled the wedges out.  She immediately grabbed one, and hissed, tossing it between fingers as it burned her skin, until she finally got it in her mouth.  She followed it almost immediately by more tequila.

“Be careful.  They’re hot.”

Enzo snickered, but helped her dish the wedges out onto plates.  Once they sat at the table, Caroline spoke again.

“I mean, my humanity.   That’s a pretty big loss, right?”

“Meh.” Enzo shrugged. “I think humanity’s overrated, but if you want to say it’s a loss-”

“No, you’re right!” Caroline poked a victorious finger at him.  “You are so right!  Like, how was being human really so great for me?  I was Damon’s dumb, compelled blood bag.  Everyone lied to me.  No one took me seriously.  But Stefan is all sad eyes about vampirism, and Elena is absolutely miserable, even if she tries to lie about it.  And I’m like, okay, maybe I’m missing something.  Maybe it is the worst thing… but see, you get it!  You’re, like, the only person who gets it.” She looked thoughtful for a second, and gave her head the slightest shake.  “Maybe, like, the second person who gets it.”

“Okay, so that’s a loss that’s not really a loss.  What else?”

“Mommy and daddy,” Caroline pointed out around a wedge, she reached for the tequila, then wrinkled her nose again.  “We need actual glasses for this.  Back wash is gross.”

In just a few moments, they both had glasses filled to the top with just tequila, because that was apparently who they were as people, and Caroline was brandishing a wedge again.

“Okay, so then there’s my relationships.  Matt and Tyler, and the total demise of my friendship with Stefan, because he is such a dick.  And did you see how he looked at me during the funeral? Like, really?  I bare my heart to the guy, and he can’t be bothered to care until he decides I look hot next to my mom’s casket?  Who does that?”

“Wankers,” Enzo replied, when Caroline paused and he realized she actually wanted an answer.  “Absolute wankers.  Of which Stefan is one.”

“Thank-you.  And I mean, we also lost Bonnie in there, even if we got her back.  And Jeremy. And Alaric.  Those are the fake deaths.  They probably get their own sub genre.  And there was Klaus, who fake died and then left, but I couldn’t really be sad about his fake death, you know?  Like, I was, but I couldn’t show it. Can I tell you a secret?” She leaned towards him, and Enzo leaned in as well, because that was what you did when there was a secret.  “I cried. When I thought he was dead.  When no one else was around.  I cried.  But if you try to tell anyone, I’ll lie, and say you’re a dirty liar who knows nothing. So don’t tell.” She leaned back in her chair, and gazed up at the ceiling again.  “I cried when he took off for New Orleans, too.  And a little bit after his bang and run. But it’s not because its, like, him in particular.  I just… hate not being good enough.”

“Gorgeous, if Klaus thinks you’re not good enough, he’s as big a wanker as Stefan.”

“I mean, he’s a bigger wanker.  He’s Klaus.  But he left. So obviously I can’t be good enough, right?”

“I dunno.  Maybe he thought he wasn’t good enough for you?”

Caroline threw a wedge at him, and looked vaguely impressed when Enzo managed to catch it between his teeth.  He smirked at her as he chewed on it.  They were surprisingly good.

“Really? Would you choose to abandon someone because you felt you weren’t good enough for them?”

“No, but I’m not a wanker. I thought that went without saying.”

Caroline laughed, and Enzo would admit it did his old heart some good, to see her actually show genuine mirth after all the tears and sadness that had followed her since her mother had died.

“That’s lame,” she said at last.  “Anyone who does that is lame.”

“And a wanker.”

“We already figured that part out.”

She looked out the nearby window, thoughtfully nibbling on a wedge, and Enzo finally nudged her knee with his foot, drawing her gaze back.

“Have you ever considered telling him that he is worth it?”

She looked away, and shook her head slowly.

“Well, maybe you should. I won’t help you with Stefan.  We both agree that he’s the biggest wanker, but I’ll help you with this other bloke.  Consider it a road trip.”

“Are you trying to get me laid, Enzo?”

“Of course, Gorgeous. That’s my job,” he gave her a careless grin that made her laugh again, before giving her knee another nudge.  “Or maybe I’d like to get you out of this hellhole of a town.”

“That would be nice.” Caroline closed her eyes, and laid her head on her arm.  “That would be nice.”

“Just say when.”

She didn’t respond to that. She didn’t acknowledge their conversation in the days that followed as Enzo followed her about, helping her to finish settling her mother’s estate.

She didn’t say anything as the rest of them made plans that, to Enzo, seemed entirely too insane.

She didn’t say anything until he took her out to the graveyard, with some daisies that made him think of Caroline, so he thought Liz would appreciate them.  He hadn’t known the woman, but he figured she must have loved her daughter, even if there had been that awkward attempted murder.

As he put the daisies down, Caroline knelt next to him, tracing her mother’s name on the stone.

“When.”

Send me a ship + a song

[jobrookekarev]

I Could Have You Back With One Simple Thing

Chapter One of Two: Come Back

Words: 3092

Summary: Jo stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand. Waiting for it to develop. She had taken a lot of pregnancy tests over the years. Most of them have been negative, one of them was positive. And here she was again.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd (Mentioned). 

Characters: Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey, and Alex Karev.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences, 

Additional Tags: Potential Pregnancy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tears, Pregnancy Tests, Reminiscing of The Past.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: For Coco ( @cicinicole-14) for causing me pain.

This is more of a thought piece for Jo, but there is some dialog and action later as Jo talks with Meredith and Alex.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand. Waiting for it to develop. She had taken a lot of pregnancy tests over the years. Most of them have been negative, one of them was positive. And here she was again, separated from her husband, the baby's father, taking a pregnancy test alone and wondering if this will ruin her and bring him back. 

Last time she prayed that it was negative. She didn't know what she wanted from this one if she wanted it to be positive or negative. If it was positive, it would change everything. For better or for worse. That's what he promised. For better or for worse. Well, worse came, and he left, and although this should be the better part, it feels like the worse.

As she looked back, she felt like the right opportunity to have a baby had passed her by. The years she was with Alex would have been the best time to have a baby. She remembered the night he came home, dropped his pants, and said, “Let's make a baby, right now.” If only she had taken him up on his offer then. 

But if she thinks about it, the perfect time to have a baby would have been after she proposed. That night was so perfect, the candles, her dress, his face, everything about him. Sure it would have meant that she would have been pregnant on their wedding day, but of all the things to go wrong that day, that would have been a good memory. They would have been a family. 

She didn't know how things would have turned out. At least, maybe Alex would have stayed. Now Jo didn't know what she would do because if she had his child now, it would both break her and heal her. It would mean that Alex would have to come back. She would get him back. Even if only for a little while. Even if it was just her and her baby seeing him on the weekends. Seeing him again would break her because it would make the separation all too real. 

Sometimes she pretended that he died. That he was just gone and she never had to see him again. It made things a little easier than wondering if he would show up again one day, like a ghost walking the halls of the hospital. 

She knows that she shouldn't, but she wanted this. Never in her entire life had she wanted a pregnancy test to be positive. Even when Jo was with Alex, she was so terrified, so focused on her career, their relationship, everything else but a child. Now he was gone and she thought the possibility of a child had gone with him. Yet here she was, sitting on the bathroom floor, pregnancy test in hand, waiting to figure out if he had left her with a child too. 

She wanted it to be positive. She wanted a baby, her and Alex's baby, and she didn't want anything else. She wanted to have a child with him, even if it hurt. Even if it was going to be difficult, and complicated, and heartbreaking. She wanted this child more than anything because at least she would have him back just for a little bit. More importantly, her child would have him. Or her child would have Izzie Stevens as a stepmom. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Alex always said that she was kind and that she baked. That would be nice for a child. Jo could learn to bake too, and to cook. She could be a soccer mom or a PTA mom. Most likely, she would be a mess of a mom, but she would be there for their child more than her mom was there for her. 

She could give them the childhood they deserved. She would do anything for their child. She could turn that little corner of the Loft into a nursery like they always talked about doing. Then she would look for a house close to Link and Meredith so that all of their kids could grow up together. She would use up all of her vacation days and make sure her child got to go to the beach, Disneyland, and all the places she never got to go to as a child. The first few years with her residency would be rough, but by the time she finished her OB residency, they would be in preschool, and she would have more time to spent with them. If she had to do it on her own, she would. She would be the best mom in the world. She could take the weekends off, and they could have little adventures around the city, just the two of them, the three of them, maybe. 

When she imagined it, Jo could see a little girl that looked like her, but had her father's devious smile and Alex’s gorgeous brown eyes. Or a little boy that would look exactly like him, and oh how she hoped they looked exactly like him. His eyes, his little crooked smile, and the way his little nose crinkle. If she couldn't have him, she would be happy to have a piece of Alex that would be hers forever, as selfish as that seemed. Even if she had to do it on her own, she could do it. 

Jo wanted to be pregnant. She wanted to have a baby, no matter what. 

She took a deep breath as she looked down at the timer on her phone. The pregnancy test only had a few more seconds left, and she counted them down, pausing the timer before it went off. Jo took another deep breath, closing her eyes, wishing, hoping, and praying before she flipped the test over.

It was negative.

So she tried again, but the next one, and the next one, and all five tests until she ran out of pee. She sat there, criss-cross on the bathroom rug staring at all five tests as all five of them came out negative. Instantly, she wasn’t nauseous anymore, she wasn’t tired or fatigued or anything. She just was. It was just her. All alone. 

She grabbed the first one again. The first response one was advertised as being the best on the market. Jo knew that they could still be false negatives, but six out of six? She had done a blood test earlier, but the lab was backed up, and a pregnancy test wasn’t urgent. She wouldn't get the results till tomorrow, so instead, she went out and bought the pregnancy tests. It was what she should have done in the first place. Now, the negative blood test would just be another penny in the bucket of her disappointment. 

Jo got up and held the test as she turned the lock on the door pulling it open and peering out into the loft. Jo was surprised to see that Meredith wasn't camped outside the door, instead, the loft was completely quiet. She walked past the little area that used to have Alex's weights but now had a little cabinet and Levi's twin bed. She walked over to her bed, their bed, reaching out for the soft comforter before she heard Meredith’s voice from the kitchen.

“I told you, Alex. I don't know.” 

“What do you mean you don't know!” Alex insisted, his voice a little distorted as it came through the phone speaker.

There's a beat of silence as she froze. Jo had been completely quiet compared to their loud conversation and Meredith had her back to her in the kitchen. She was at the sink doing the dishes that Jo had been too sick to do. The smell of the old food still turned her stomach. She supposed she just had the flu and not morning sickness.

For a moment, Jo just stared at her as Meredith scrubbed the pan. She knew that Meredith was still in contact with Alex, and she asked her to call him when she arrived after she went to take the tests. Jo wanted him to know from the very beginning, but for some reason. She didn't believe that Meredith would still call him, that Alex would pick up, that she would hear his voice on the other end of the line for the first time in months. Even before she got the letter, he felt so far away. Alex felt like he was the thousands of miles away that he was. Hearing his voice now, so close, she could feel him, almost as if his voice was ringing in her ears. His sweet voice was so close, so comforting, as it always was.

“All I know is that Jo called me, and when I showed up at the Loft, she had a box of pregnancy tests, and she said that she didn't want to take them alone,” Meredith said as she paused her scrubbing. “Alex, she was so distraught, the loft is an absolute mess, there's laundry, and dishes, and tissues everywhere. I haven't seen it this bad since, since she fell into her depression.”

Alex sighed, pausing for a second. “I should be there.”

“Yeah, you should be here. You should be the one waiting here with her instead of me, but you can’t do that because you left. I shouldn't even be telling you this,” Meredith said as she started scrubbing the pan again so aggressively that Jo thought she’d scrub the nonstick coating off.

“Then why are you telling me all this? You don't tell me a single thing about Jo, despite how I ask, and then you just call me out of the blue and tell me she might be pregnant.”

 “I don't know, because she asked me to and because you called. Look Alex, what am I supposed to say? You ran away from this and you can't just run back. ”

“I can try, I can come back, I can be in Seattle in less than 5 hours.”

“No, I don't, because I think if Jo really is pregnant, then I don't know what she's going to do, especially if you show up. I think, I think she might actually run. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. I did the same thing when I found out I was pregnant with Ellis. You and I both know her. Despite everything, Jo’s first instinct is to run and without you to keep her here...”

“Well, you have to stop her. You just have to keep her there until I can get there.”

“I'm not going to stop her or make her do anything she doesn't want to do. Jo is her own person, and she makes her own decisions. If she wants to run away from us and take her child with her, then she has every right to.”

“It’s my child too,” Alex's voice was filled with hurt as he pleaded with Meredith. “I have every right to be there, to know them.”

“It stopped being your child and just became Jo's child the moment that you left. Alex, you left her alone and pregnant. What do you expect her to do!?” Meredith yelled, still taking out her anger on the pan.

“I don't expect her to keep my child from me!”  Alex yelled before he took a deep breath, his voice calmer when he spoke again. “Look, I know that her having you call me now is a sign that she wants me to be a part of this child's life. I'm grateful for that, I am. I want to do right by her and our baby. I don't want to hurt her anymore, but this is my child too, and I have the right to know them. I get that she's angry...” 

“Of course she's angry!”  Meredith said, cutting him off. “You left her. I'm angry too, but it's your little swimmers that got you into this situation. Look, I know you're worried, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Let's just wait and see what the results are before you hop on a plane and disrupt her life even further. Because I guarantee that if it's negative, she’s still going to want nothing to do with you if you show up.”

“I'm just worried, Mer. I left her to be with my kids so that I could be a full-time dad to them. I don't want to be flying back and forth from Seattle to Kansas. I don't want to be a part-time dad to all of my kids. I'm just, I'm worried. I don't know how I'm going to do this.”

As the conversation went on, Jo just stood there leaning against the post in the kitchen, holding the negative pregnancy test. Meredith finally finished the dishes and turned around, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She caught sight of Jo standing there. Meredith paused, the phone in her hand. Jo just put the pregnancy test on the table where Meredith could see it.

“It’s negative. You can tell Alex he doesn't have anything to worry about.” 

“Jo,” Alex's voice stopped her in her tracks as he reached out to her across the phone. 

It took everything inside of her not to fall apart and not to take the phone from Meredith. Not to scream and cry and tell him how much she still loves him and hates him and wants him back. But he was gone and now nothing could bring him back. Not now.

With that, she turned around and walked away. She heard Meredith quickly hang and then everything was quiet. All of Jo's strength seemed to have disappeared as she walked over to the couch, their couch, and grabbed his throw blanket. Alex had complained about it when Jo first bought it, saying it was too girly, but eventually, he grew to love it because it was warm and soft. Sometimes he would even curl up in bed with it when she wasn't home, and he was lonely. Now, she curled up with it, instead of with him.

There were a number of things that she kept for herself, being selfish with his things before she packed away the rest and sent it all off to Kansas. She kept his old Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirts, he could always order another one, but this one was hers even before he left. His pillow, he had a new bed to sleep in and probably a new pillow too, lord knows he was away long enough to need one. His watch, he had forgotten it because it was left on his nightstand. He asked Meredith to get it for him, but Jo said she couldn't find it. And then there was his brown scrub cap, it was in his locker, and she found it when she was cleaning it out. Jo didn't wear it like Meredith wore Derek’s ferry boat scrub cap, but sometimes Jo just held it against her nose and breathed in the smell of his cologne and his shampoo. It was a little stinky from the sweat of his brow, but it was a part of the image of Alex she fell in love with, so she kept it. However, all those were just things. The smell of him would fade from his pillow, the blanket would become less soft the more she used it, the fabric of his scrub cap would rip and tear until it became just scraps, and the watch would stop working.

But a child, their child would have been a piece of him to keep forever. Living, breathing, growing, and changing into someone new, a person who would be more than either of them could have ever been. Now all of that was gone with the negative pregnancy test. Every last piece of him was gone.

“I have nothing left of him,” Jo said as she stared out the window at the crappy view of the other buildings. 

“That's not true,” Meredith said as she came to sit down next to her, but Jo didn't look at her. She just kept staring out the window, even as Meredith wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. “You have a lot of things left from Alex, just like I have things from Derek.”

“Yeah, including three kids that are just like him,” Jo said, trying not to let the bitterness and her voice come out like venom.

“Yes, but I also have a lifetime’s worth of memories and a heart full of love, and I know that you have the same. No matter what happens going forward, you get to keep all the love that he gave you and the best parts of Alex, and you get to keep me.”

Jo pulled back to look at Meredith. “I thought that you would. I don't know, I thought that now that Alex was gone, we wouldn't be friends anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong because in the divorce, you got me, and I promise you, Jo, I'm not going anywhere,” Meredith said, gripping your shoulders and staring into her eyes, knowing that Jo would have a hard time believing it.

But she did believe her. Jo knew Meredith well enough to know that she wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't anything in the world that would take her away from Seattle, at least not for very long. When so many others had left, Meredith had always been there. 

Jo nodded as she looked down at her lap and placed a hand over her empty womb. “I wanted to be pregnant.”

“I know,” Meredith said, in a soft voice with a little nod.

“I didn't care if it was complicated. I would have done it with or without him and I would have been a good mom,” Jo said, the tears collecting in her eyes as she tried to keep her voice from breaking.

“I know and you would have been the best mom in the world,” Meredith said, reaching out to put her hand on Jo's cheek and wipe away the tears that had already started falling.

“I just wanted to be pregnant,” Jo said, shaking her head. 

“I know.” 

Jo finally gave in to the tears as they turned into sobs. Her wails filled the loft as she cried into Meredith’s arms as she just hugged her close. Meredith provided the comfort that Alex once did, as Jo grieved for the child that never was and never would be.

[menswearmusings]

Uncle Seiko’s Jangly Yet Oddly Comforting Throwback Bracelets

Last year I took a step into the world of horology and bought an Omega Aqua Terra; black dial, orange details, on a leather strap. It’s a glorious watch, with an outstanding mechanical movement, beautiful finishing and a design that manages to be both contemporary and vintage-inspired without overdoing it in either direction.

But there has been just one problem: it turns out that for every day wear, I need a steel bracelet. The leather band it came on is gorgeous, high quality, comfortable, and the perfect shade of tan to complement the orange details on the dial. But on any given day, I’m likely to find myself rinsing dishes in the sink, giving one of my two boys a bath, playing out in the yard, or being spit up on by the baby. Leather is not suited to these activities.

So I found myself trying strap upon strap to fix that dilemma. The NATO option is cool and leans much further into the vintage diver feel of the watch. But I just don’t like NATO straps that much. I tried a Milanese mesh bracelet, but that doesn’t quite look right to me. I would buy the Omega OEM bracelet that goes with this watch, but new from the company it’s $600+, and they just don’t come up on the used market. The third party ones on Etsy, eBay and elsewhere don’t fit (trust me, I’ve tried a handful).

So I gave Uncle Seiko a shot. They sell a range of straps and bracelets for Seiko’s as well as repro’s of old Speedmaster bracelets that are long discontinued by Omega. And it turns out that you can easily modify the hollow end-links of those steel Speedmaster bracelets to fit most Seamaster models—including my Aqua Terra. There are four specifically that work: the 1171 (“President”), 1035 (“Flat Link”), Holzer and a “beads of rice.” I tried the 1035 flat link and the 1171 president.

The result? It’s kinda good! I ended up liking the 1171 president the best. The bracelets are intentionally made to be kinda loose, light and jangly. To me, it feels like a Timex bracelet, with its stamped clasp and snap closure. To my surprise, that doesn’t bother me all that much once it’s on the wrist.

Supposedly the Speedmaster bracelets of old were this way, and there is a subset of customers who pine for those days. I always assumed that was an impulse akin to a preference for the “warm” sounds of tube amps and old 45s.

But after wearing this jangly, Timex-y bracelet on my master co-axial chronometer for about a week, one day it clicked, and I understood the appeal those old-timers see:

It turns the watch from an object of worship into a commodity, more like what it was back in the day. Not a luxury item you obsess over, stare at, worry about and buy insurance policies for, but instead just a nice watch you put on your wrist to tell the time. That wasn’t what I expected to feel but here we are.

That said, the biggest appeal to me isn’t all of that, but simply that it turns what had been a watch I wore in more dressy scenarios into an every day, black dial steel sports watch. The versatility of that can’t be overstated, and I appreciate the Aqua Terra as a category of watches even more than I did before. If I’m able to find a second-hand OEM Omega steel bracelet for a good price, I’ll buy it.

In the meantime, I’m greatly enjoying Uncle Seiko for what it is, in all its loose, jangly glory.

(Help support this site! If you buy stuff through my links, your clicks and purchases earn me a commission from many of the retailers I feature, and it helps me sustain this site—as well as my menswear habit ;-)  Thanks!)

If you’re just getting into tailored menswear and want a single helpful guide to building a trend-proof wardrobe, buy my eBook. It’s only $5 and covers wardrobe essentials for any guy who wants to look cool, feel cool and make a good impression. Formatted for your phone or computer/iPad so it’s not annoying to read, and it’s full of pretty pictures, not just boring prose. Buy it here.

Read more at Menswear Musings

[ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover]

Good Looking Stranger

Summary: A handsome stranger finally stops by the café where you work after weeks just walking by.

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1,6k+

A/N: This is my submission to @browngirlmagic 1k Writing Challenge, congratulations Ayesha!

Thank you always @shellbilee for helping me, and making sure I didn’t write anything unintelligible. I love you girl!

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

It was a quiet night, and with finals behind your lucky regulars, it would probably remain like that for the rest of the month.

Your hope for better tips rested on the increasing temperature and tourists seeking refuge and refreshments in the small café where you worked.

You had the evening shift and it was almost time for the handsome stranger to cross the street and pass by the window.

Tall, dark haired, and if there was any more light, you’d have been able to see the color of his eyes, but your bet was on blue.

Like clockwork, he exited the subway station, crossed the street and, to your amazement and slight panic, entered the café.

You held your smile as best as you could while you served a steaming cup of cappuccino and a slice of carrot cake to an old man sitting at the table closest to the window.

As if drawing your eyes like a magnet, his figure strutting through the room made you slowly turn. He chose the very last stool by the counter, sitting sideways with his back to the wall and facing the door.

Before his eyes could reach yours on his sweep of the room, you swiftly turned back.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” you asked the older gentleman, and his full-mouthed ‘no’ was enough to get you moving.

“Good evening and welcome!” you greeted the newcomer with what you hoped was a warm smile, doing your best to hide your anxiety. “What can I get you?”

His head, buried in his phone until you spoke, snapped up. His eyes met yours, their surprising shade, a steely, deep sky blue in the dim lights, took your breath away.

After a moment of mutual gawking, he blinked and cleared his throat.

“Uhm, I’ll have a…” he paused, frowning at the menu written on the wall. “Uh, a latte.”

Uncertainty clear in his tone, his eyes swiveled back to yours and a frown mirrored the one you unwittingly displayed.

“Sure thing. It’ll only take a sec.” you replied, shaking off the odd impression you had, and moved away to prepare his order, making sure to always keep an eye on him.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes were again glued to the screen and undiluted tension colored his features.  

Between preparing coffee and evaporating the milk, he had started typing.

You couldn’t help noticing he was wearing gloves when you were almost in summer, and weirder still, that he’d wear them inside.

You finished making his latte, and stood opposite the oddly mysterious man who apparently was in another galaxy.

“Here you go!” you announced, and once more his attention was seized abruptly. “Would you like anything to eat?” you insisted to his clear annoyance.

“No, thanks.” he answered, turning his focus immediately back to the device in his hands.

“Trouble in paradise?” you tried to get his attention, and rolled your eyes internally at your lame choice of words.

He sighed and put the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Kinda.” he started, with visible reluctance. “Are you like the bartender of this coffee shop?”

The tilt of his head was really cute, and it was your turn to hold back a sigh for an entirely different reason.

“Kinda.” you threw back at him, quirking your brow.

The smile he rewarded you with was something to die for. Never had you seen something so spontaneous and genuine from a complete stranger. It disarmed you of any annoyance you may have harbored.

“Tell me all about it. I promise it dies with me.” you prodded.

Crossing your arms over the counter, you settled in a somewhat comfortable position and gave him your undivided attention.

“Well, there’s this woman…” he began.

“Oooh!” you interrupted smiling, and earning another heart-stopping smile in return.

“She works for a company that…” he paused, looking away for a second and brought his beautiful eyes back to yours. “Well, her company competes with mine, kinda. Like industrial espionage, you know?”

“Oh, the plot thickens. And you like her?” you half asked, half guessed.

“She’s gorgeous, but I haven’t really had a chance. A chance to get to know her better, I mean.” he looked at his full glass of latte and took a sip.

“And is it impossible to do that?” you asked, more engrossed in the story than you had intended.

“Not impossible. But it would go against a lot of rules and…”

“Do you believe she is worth it?” you interrupted him.

“I believe she can be, yeah. I want to get her out of trouble. That company of hers… it’s bad news.” he shook his head and his jaw twitched. “I would have to make sure my moves were well planned, and that I didn’t screw up.” he replied, lost in his thoughts.

“You know, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that everything goes from order to disorder.” you said, casually. “If you think you can control chaos, you’re setting yourself up for failure. And whenever you think you have control, that’s when things blow in your face.”

He studied you for a second longer than you were comfortable with, and as soon as you busied yourself with the over polished counter surface, he opened his mouth.

“You studied Physics?” he asked quietly.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“I read a lot.” you replied matter-of-factly. “Don’t sleep much.”

Your shrug dismissing it caused him to squint minutely. You pretended not to see, moving instead closer to the client who had just come in and sat much closer to the door and the other man.

You held a finger, signaling you’d be back in a minute.

While you took the order you saw the gloved fingers back at their previous activity.

A chai latte and a blueberry banana muffin later, you were in front of blue eyes again.

“I changed my mind. Do you have turnovers?” he asked.

“Made this afternoon. Apple, cranberry and walnuts.” you replied with a smile.

“I’ll take twelve of those.” he said, eyeing you expectantly. “To go, please.”

“I’m sorry. Twelve?” you exclaimed, baffled.

“Sweet tooth.” he explained with a shrug. “Thank you for the talk. It helped a lot!”

You nodded, taking the money he owed you and feeling very confused about the whole exchange.

“Do come back!” you called after him when he was a few stools away from you.

“If these taste as good as they smell, you bet I will!” he replied with a smirk, lifting the bag with the turnovers.

After he left, the older gentleman paid for his cake and drink and left as well, but not before winking at you and fake whispering “If you don’t pounce on that hunk the next time, I will!”.

As he disappeared from sight, the man sitting closer to the door got up and locked it.

“Finally alone.” he declared in a heavy accent. “So, no useful intel from this first contact?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” you replied patiently. “Do not rush me. I haven’t been busting my ass here for the past six months for you to just show up and undermine my entire operation.”

“They sent me. They want a report.” he told you. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

His chuckling was grating, and much like your shift, your patience with him was coming to an end.

“I have to lock up. Pay up and make your way out. Please.”

“I’ll be around. Don’t look at me like that! Orders!” he barked at you upon seeing your scowl. “I’m redundancy!”

“Fine!” you said through your teeth. “Now leave. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Hail Hydra!” he whispered, not waiting for you to reciprocate. Spinning on his heels he left hurriedly.

“Yeah, yeah.” you grumbled.

So now you had a guard dog to watch your every step. Now, that he had finally entered the café.

You had a bad feeling about that.

Whatever you were expecting from Sargent James B. Barnes, former Hydra operative known as Winter Soldier, was not what you found.

Bringing him back in would be a task much more complicated than you had anticipated.

***

Two blocks away.

“Seriously? No coffee for me?” Sam asked outraged, rubbing his hands together while eyeing the bag in Bucky’s hand while he was still getting into the car. “So, what’s she like?”

“She’s been very well trained.” Bucky replied, his lips pursing in the familiar way that told Sam he wasn’t telling the whole story.

“Spit it out tinman, it’ll do you good.” he said,  while gesturing to the bag which Bucky still clutched.

“I think I trained her.” he confessed, handing an agape Sam the bag. “Close your mouth bird boy.” Bucky continued, serious.

“You mean the soldier trained her.” Sam replied, already expecting the old-timer to talk back.

“What’s the difference?” he countered, morose. “Back in Siberia I may have spent most of the time as the Soldier, but there were moments of consciousness.”

Sam chose not to reply. The bitterness was still there, despite all the work with Shuri.

He was beginning to regret accepting a Hydra linked mission from Hill, so soon after Bucky got his head back in shape. It would be devastating to watch the organization take all that progress away from him; to watch him be a prisoner of his own mind again.

“Those moments weren’t enough for Sargent Barnes to train anyone.” Sam told him, opening the bag, taking a turnover with a napkin and humming in appreciation before continuing. “She’ll be waiting for the Soldier, you’ll show her Bucky.”

Bucky looked at him baffled at his speech, and shook his head at the sizable bite Sam took out of the pastry.

“Steve was so much better at pep talks than you are.”

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Netflix and Cuddle

This is not a chapter of the Woethough Au! I just wanted to write some Remile fluff and decided to have it set in the world.

Word count: 1226

Warnings: very brief mention of murder, otherwise pure fluff

Remy spread out the dye, careful to get it everywhere as even as possible.

Emile hummed along to the theme song of the cartoon he had put on, having memorized it already even though they were only at the second episode. In maybe two more he'd sing along, Remy knew.

"Turn your head a little, sugar," he said, guiding Emile in the direction he needed. "Perfect, thanks."

He pressed a quick kiss against Emile's cheek earning a giggle.

"Do you think the pink will look good?" Emile asked.

"Of course it will. Everything looks great on you, babe. Unless maybe if I manage to completely fuck this up."

"I wonder how our fusion will look then," Emile said, pausing the cartoon. "I'm not sure how your green will work with it. The baby blue wasn't as different."

"I bet we'll slay. Maybe we'll just have an entirely new hair colour? Isn't that how most of them work?"

"I think most fusions have some mix of the hair colours of whoever fused."

"Well, either way, we'll look awesome, pumpkin. Could you turn the other way?"

Emile pressed play again and Remy continued his work, occasionally commenting on the show. Back when they had started dating, Emile had sometimes worried Remy would get bored with the cartoons. He still liked to make sure Emile knew this wasn't the case. Never would be.

Who cared if his reputation as a stone cold bitch suffered. He could always just kill someone to get it back. Preferably some bigot or someone who had dared to point out his softness, the only exception being Logan's tiny gremlin.

"So, I think I've got it everywhere," Remy announced and combed through Emile's dye covered hair with one hand, just to make sure, before putting the old shower cap over his head. "I'll set a timer for when you have to wash it out."

"Thanks, babe," Emile smiled at him. "You're the best."

"Nope," Remy pressed a kiss against his cheek, "I think you got me confused with yourself there. And anytime."

Emile chuckled and Remy's heart melted at the sight of his smile, rosy cheeks and scrunched up eyes.

"Fine, but if I'm the best you're a very close second."

"Of course I'm second," Remy grinned. "Otherwise you'd be way out of my league. I'd never have a chance. Not that you aren't already."

Emile caught his lips with his own and Remy closed his eyes, melting into the kiss.

The stench of hair dye was filling up his senses and their noses bumped awkwardly but the feeling of Emile's lips against his was still the most amazing he'd ever felt. How incredible that he got to taste them everyday anew. Could fall in love deeper with every minute.

An alarm started both of them.

Remy checked his phone and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Gotta wash it out now," he said and got up from the couch. "I'll be right back."

"Do you want me to pause so you don't miss anything?"

"Nah, don't worry. You can just tell me what happened or I can rewatch it sometime."

"Okay, then."

Remy strolled into the bathroom and let his pants drop to the floor and taking off the sports bra he had settled on instead of a binder. It was easier to take off without risking getting all the dye on it.

He stepped into the shower and let it run for a moment until it was warm enough.

Emile had bought a new shampoo, that was probably meant for little girls. Remy smelled at it. Something fruity and sweet. He squeezed it onto his hand. Pink and glittery. Why the fuck not?

Being one of the most feared men in the city didn't mean he couldn't sparkle and smell nice.

Logan had proofed the sparkly part just a month ago after he had made the mistake or maybe genuinely brilliant decision to buy the little gremlin some glitter from the crafting store. The trail of glitter falling from his hair and suit hadn't stopped anyone from falling to their knees in terror.

Remy still owed the kid ice cream for it. The news reports had been hilarious.

He stepped out of the shower again and dried himself off.

He wiped the mirror to get a glimpse of his hair. The green had turned out nicely. It was dark and they'd mixed in a little bit of red to desaturate it a bit.

The cartoon was paused when he came back into the living room. The window had been cracked open and the dye stench wasn't as prominent as it had been anymore.

Emile wasn't there.

"Babe?" Remy called into the apartment.

"I'm here!" came the reply from the kitchen. "Do you want some chips too?"

"Sure," Remy settled on the couch again. "Thanks!"

Emile came back with a big bowl and stopped in the doorway.

"That looks amazing!" he marvled.

"You think so?"

"Of course? Aren't you happy with it?" he set down the bowl on the coffee table and settled next to Remy.

"No, I like it. Don't worry. I'm happy you like it too. I think I might do this colour again actually," he gave Emile a few pecks over his cheek, forehead and nose and pulled him closer.

"We can cuddle once I've washed my hair," Emile reminded him.

"Mhm... Fine. So, what did I miss?"

Oh, of course!" Emile began recounting the plot in detail as Remy smiled to himself. The plot wasn't really all that important to him. The look on Emile's face when he talked about it on the other hand... Priceless. "...and this is where I paused."

"Okay," Remy nodded and pressed play.

They got to the end of the episode before Emile's alarm sounded and he got up to shower.

Remy paused to wait for him to come back, missing him and his warm weight against Remy's arm, as soon as he was out of the door.

He listened to the sound of the shower being turned on and Emile singing to himself as he got in.

He picked up the Stitch plushy sitting on the couch.

It was new.

Remy had gotten it from Hot Topic after the old one had disappeared from Emile's office and he had been upset about it. It couldn't quite make up for it but it had made Emile smile so as far as he was concerned it was worth it.

Remy was still trying to find out who of Emile's patients had stolen it even if Emile was sure that nobody had stolen it. That he had simply lost it.

"I'm back!" Emile announced, rubbing his head dry with a towel.

"And? How'd it turn out?"

Emile pulled the towel down and shook his hair out. It was a nice pastel pink. Maybe a little darker than they had intended but still nice and soft.

"Do you like it?" Emile asked.

"Babe, you're beautiful," Remy breathed. "Come here."

Emile sat on his lap and burrowed into his chest. Remy pulled him even closer and pressed kisses over his neck and cheeks.

"How did I find someone as gorgeous and smart and kind as you?" he murmured.

"By being handsome, cool, clever, charming and just all around incredible, maybe?" Emile suggested.

Remy chuckled.

"Oh, hush."

Emile clicked play again.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #17: A Perfectly Normal Prom Night

Words: ca. 2,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: None

The whole thing started rather innocuously. It was the middle of summer when Elsa and Anna’s parents had dragged them to an outdoor concert for one of those old timer bands. The girls, having just finished eleventh and tenth grade respectively, were not exactly thrilled about their parents’ choice of music, and so pretty soon they wandered off together, eventually finding some relative peace and quiet in a patch of grass and flowers off at the opposite edge of the wide field from where the concert was taking place, where they talked for a while about the things teenage girls typically talk about.

Anna, who was prone to being consumed by nervous energy, busied her hands by picking the nearby flowers and weaving the stems together. When she’d woven enough of them to form a small flower crown, she interrupted whatever Elsa was saying at that particular moment then leaned forward and placed the crown on Elsa’s head.

“Um, thanks?” Elsa said, with a light blush on her cheeks. She was, as ever, rather self-conscious. “It looks silly doesn’t it?”

But Anna shook her head. “No, actually, it looks really pretty.”

The blush on Elsa’s face only deepened.

Elsa wore the flower crown on the car ride home. She wore it around the house for the rest of the weekend. Come Monday morning, by which time some of the stems had started to wither and unravel, she presented the remains to Anna, who salvaged what she could and wove the remaining bits into Elsa’s braid, her facing beaming with pride.

And so it became a ritual for the sisters: Anna gathering flowers and braiding them into various formations, and then placing them in Elsa’s hair until she blushed. Elsa, presenting herself each day for her floral adornment. It was a curious sort of reversal of their usual big sister/little sister roles, and Anna found she rather enjoyed it. In fact, she enjoyed it rather a lot.

The school year started up with no interruption to their ritual. If anything, it brought them closer. It was not uncommon to find Anna fussing with the placement of the flowers in Elsa’s hair during their shared lunch break. Or on their walk home from school. Or while watching TV together on the couch after dinner. And maybe they started inviting each other to hangouts with their respective friend groups more than they had before. All in all, it was a pretty good year.

They were eating two dollar burgers on a picnic bench at the local park when Elsa casually asked Anna to go to prom with her.

“You don’t have someone you’d prefer to go with?” Anna asked, trying to play it cool but feeling a little bewildered.

“I do, silly. I just asked you,” Elsa said before taking a large bite of her hamburger.

“Okay. Sure.” A casual answer for a casual question.

In truth, the prom talk reminded Anna of a fact that she’d done a rather good job not thinking about for the past year, which was that Elsa was going to be going off to college in the fall. Like the flowers in Elsa’s hair, their lives had become woven closer together in the past nine months, and Anna wasn’t looking forward to Elsa being gone.

And so, rather than wallowing in self-pity, Anna resolved to go all out for this prom thing.

The first item was the dress. Some quick internet searching turned up several options online; she went with a long green dress with floral embellishments on the bodice. It wasn’t egregiously expensive, but it would be shipped from overseas and so she had to cross her fingers that it wouldn’t look horribly cheap in person. Luckily it was long enough that she didn’t really have to splurge on shoes, as they would go mostly unseen.

Second was the ride. It took some horse trading with her father, but she managed to get him to shell out for a limo—don’t you want Elsa’s night to be special, Dad?—even if it meant she’d be the one mowing the lawn all summer.

The third, which came together in the last few days before the dance, was the corsage. She’d had to scour every flower shop across town before she found one that would make a corsage of Elsa’s favorite flower, the crocus.

And then there was the last thing, which was stupid and foolish, and conveniently fully refundable if she chickened out at the last minute. Anna wasn’t fully sure which of the two outcomes she would prefer.

When the day came, Anna even did the little ritual of going around to the front door once she was all dressed up and ringing the doorbell. Her father answered the door and gave her a little wink, then turned to call for Elsa to come downstairs, thankfully before he could spot the light blush rising on her face. When Elsa came around the upstairs hallway and descended the stairs, there was no more hope of Anna hiding the bright crimson blush on her face from anyone.

Elsa’s dress was a gorgeous lavender color and surprisingly a bit short, for a prom dress. The bodice was all floral lace, and below that were several tiers of tulle skirts which came down to just below her knees. Her hair was done up in a fancy braid, and woven into it Anna spotted a few of the flowers she’d left on Elsa’s dresser that morning.

Anna thought she had never seen someone so pretty in her life.

If time had seemed to slow for that first glance of Elsa on the stairs, it definitely sped up after that. Anna presented the corsage and pinned it to Elsa’s dress, earning her a dazzled look when Elsa recognized her favorite flowers. Her father took the requisite ‘prom couple’ photos before the limo showed up to take them to their destination. Anna had to repeat several yes really’s to Elsa’s did you really?’s as their parents ushered them into the waiting vehicle.

At the venue they met up with their friends and generally just had a blast. When the slow songs came on they would find each other and catch up on whatever hijinks the other had missed, or poke fun at their coupled friends being sappy with each other. Anna didn’t even mind when they spent the last ‘dance’ snacking on chocolates at the refreshments table instead of on the dance floor.

After the dance came the after parties. Neither of the girls was much of a wild partier, but it seemed apropos to at least see what all the fuss was about. All in all, they had a good time. At one point Anna actually did sneak a shot of tequila when she was offered, for courage. Or tried to sneak; Elsa had somehow noticed and gave her a very judgy older-sister look which Anna only managed to disarm by fussing somewhat dramatically over the state of the flowers in Elsa’s braid.

The night dragged on. At about one in the morning the two sisters found themselves at an all-night diner with Rapunzel and Eugene, sharing a basket of french fries. They’d lost Kristoff when the group had briefly stopped in front of the local gay bar. When the fries ran out, Eugene and Rapunzel excused themselves; Eugene mentioned that it was time to take his girlfriend home, with a very big wink when he said the word home. Anna just rolled her eyes at him. But hey, that was part of the whole prom night thing too, right?

Anna couldn’t help but notice that Elsa looked a bit down when they left the diner. The limo was long gone at that point, so Anna hailed a cab with the app on her phone. Once they were underway, she broached the topic of what was making Elsa glum in that moment.

“We had an amazing night, right Elsa? I didn’t screw anything up?”

Elsa, who had been gazing out the car window, turned to face Anna, eyes wet around the edges but not crying exactly. “Oh, Anna, of course not. You were perfect, everything was perfect. It’s just that—well, I told myself I didn’t want any… entanglements before going off to college, but seeing Eugene and Punz going off to have some, um, special time together—” Elsa stopped abruptly and composed herself a little. “I just kinda don’t want the night to be over yet.”

“So um, about that,” Anna started to say, just as the driver pulled up to their destination.

Anna got out of the car as Elsa scooched across the back seats and then joined her on the sidewalk, just as the taxi pulled away. The sidewalk which was definitely not the driveway of their house.

“I got us a hotel!” Anna announced excitedly, before she could choke on the words. They were in fact, standing in front of a fairly nice hotel near the edge of downtown.

“You didn’t,” Elsa replied, deadpan, though her eyes were wandering up the side of the glass building to the bright blue sign near the roof many stories up.

“We can still go home if you want, I haven’t actually paid anything yet,” Anna offered, but Elsa’s answer was to head towards the front door and into the lobby.

Anna trailed after her, managed to wrangle Elsa along with her to the check-in desk in order to procure the room key. The process of which was somewhat elaborated by the fact that Anna could barely get her words out, suffering a bit of shock at the part where Elsa hadn’t just called up another taxi to take them home. It was definitely the tequila talking when, in the elevator, she grabbed hold of Elsa’s hand. Elsa shot her an indecipherable look, but didn’t let go.

They were still holding hands when Anna keyed the door lock with her free hand, opened the door slightly, popped her foot in the gap to hold it open, and then promptly spun around to face Elsa.

“Turn around,” Anna ordered, and was surprised when her sister complied.

“Anna,” Elsa whined, and the tone in her voice gave Anna a curious boost in confidence.

“Close your eyes,” Anna half-whispered, as she pulled her hand loose from Elsa’s and then raised both hands up to cover Elsa’s eyes. With a bit of an awkward shuffle, Anna managed to guide them both backwards through the doorway, before turning them both in place so that she could guide Elsa forward into the center of the room. And then, with a deep breath, she dropped her hands and let Elsa see.

It wasn’t just that Anna had gotten them a hotel room. That could have been excused as just a fun place to hang out to cap the night off. Anna, god help her, wanted her message to be clear. Which was why the hotel room had only the one king-size bed, completely covered in white rose petals.

Elsa stepped forward tentatively, ran a hand along the edge of the bed, disturbing some of the flower petals. She glanced at Anna briefly, and then back at the bed and around the room. After a long moment that felt like an eternity to Anna, Elsa turned around, kicked off her heels, and sat on the edge of bed with a look on her face that heavily implied that Anna should start talking.

Here, at the crux of all the plans she had orchestrated for this night, Anna found that she didn’t need really need that tequila courage to say what she needed to say.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she confessed. It was a lot easier to breathe like a normal person now that she’d said the hardest part. “I know it sounds absurd, but that’s the only way I can make sense of the way you make me feel. It was just little things at first, and then I started having thoughts and I wasn’t sure—I’m still not sure sure to be honest. When you asked me to go to prom with you, I thought that maybe, maybe you felt something like I do?” Anna paused, hoping the Elsa might respond, but the expression on the blonde girl’s face remained enigmatic. With a bit of resignation, Anna sat down on the bed next to Elsa. “I got this hotel room so that we could—so that I could tell you how I felt. In private.”

Elsa just looked at her for rather a long time, and Anna felt like she could see the various thoughts she must be having go to and fro in her sister’s head.

“And what did you think we would do in this hotel room,” Elsa inquired eventually, with a curious tone in her voice, “now that you’ve told me, if I felt the same way?”

“W-whatever we’re both, um, comfortable with?” Anna responded hesitantly, taking Elsa’s hand in hers once again. “Which could totally be nothing at all, I mean, if you don’t feel that—”

“Can I kiss you?” Elsa asked immediately, before Anna had finished speaking.

Whoa what?

“Uh, yes?”

How was she so unprepared for the very thing she had been hoping would happen?

She felt a little bit like her spirit had left her body when Elsa quickly lifted her free hand to caress Anna’s cheek, and then leaned in until their lips pressed together. Anna wasn’t exactly an experienced kisser; she’d kissed a few girls (and yes, boys), but mostly in the hesitant, high-school way where neither person knows what they’re doing. And still, this kiss with Elsa felt a little odd. It felt, somehow, like Elsa was asking a question, only… Anna didn’t think she was the one who was supposed to answer it. And just like that, the sense of elation from just moments before dropped out of her chest and curdled in her stomach.

Elsa, perhaps sensing the shift, pulled away. Looked away. But their hands were still clasped, and Anna took that as a sign of something. After a moment, she gave Elsa’s hand a brief squeeze of reassurance. I’m still here, she endeavored to say without saying.

“I don’t think I’m in love with you,” Elsa said, and before Anna could fall to pieces, Elsa finally looked back at her and there was something bright in her blue eyes. “But. Maybe you’ve just figured it out sooner than me? Because I do want to kiss you some more. I wanted to kiss you so bad when you gave me the corsage earlier tonight. Wouldn’t that have caused a scene!”

Elsa laughed then, and the sight of it transmuted all of Anna’s mixed up emotions into her own burst of laughter because yeah, Elsa surprise kissing her in front of their parents would have been a whole damn fiasco and who knows if they would have even been allowed to leave the house in that case? And Anna was really glad they had gotten to spend this time together.

“Is that okay? That I don’t feel, um, quite the same thing as you?” Elsa asked, when Anna had mostly collected herself.

“I think so?” Anna replied, rubbing away the streaks from tears that had escaped during her fit of laughter. “We just have to communicate, right? If something changes, it has to be okay for either of us to say something.”

“Of course,” Elsa confirmed. And then she got a particularly mischievous smile on her pretty face.

“What? Elsa, what!” Anna pressed, when her sister still didn’t say anything.

“Well, I did say I want to kiss you some more, didn’t I?” Elsa scooted back on the bed until she was sitting in the center of it, then trailed her hands through the rose petals that still blanketed the sheets. “Your plan worked. You’ve got me all alone in this romantic hotel room with you. What are you going to do with me?”

Anna never once complained about mowing the lawn that summer.