#obviously not perfect but nothing ever is and i did forgo some details at the end (like the chains)

[a-s-levynn]

A new era

[spectersgf]

harvey specter x reader idk they meet in a book store (maybe the reader could run it?) never giving each other last names or smhting. but the reader is mikes sister and mike tells her all about harvey but no one manges to connect teh dots? idk you have free control i just thought something like that where the reader has nothing to do wiht his work life and is really soft and sweat .

— bookstores and brothers 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter × reader (+ mike ross & reader are siblings)

summary: a hotshot lawyer walks into a café bookstore and meets a pretty barista. the world is smaller than he thinks.

warnings: none! kinda suggestive but nothing crazy

wordcount: 3.7k (yikes!)

a/n: first request! sorry this was so horrifically late but hopefully the length makes up for it? but also not proofread OOPS. (more rambling at the end <3)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

Ever since your brother, Michael, started making the big bucks at his job as a fraud lawyer, he had decided to invest in you — your business, that is. With his investment, you were able to follow your dream of opening a bookstore-meets-café, with a small apartment atop the store. Your store was popular enough that you were able to live comfortably; you had a community of regular readers who came for your books (especially since you’d always fulfil requests) and a hoard of regulars that came for your coffee. Your coffee was easily the best in the area, and people even went out of their way to get coffee from you.

Someone who went out of their way for your coffee, though you didn’t know this, was Harvey. You knew very little about him; he was a very attractive man who came in at 8:30am, like clockwork, for his black coffee with vanilla and sugar. You were rarely able to converse with him for very long or in a lot of detail, but you had assumptions. He was maybe a banker or some kind of lawyer like your brother, but the only thing you knew for sure was his coffee order and the fact that he wore a three-piece suit every day. On particularly warm days, he’d forgo either the jacket or the vest, both of which were welcome options. On particularly cold days, he wore a scarf and gloves, and even a coat. His hair was always styled the exact same and he had the most wonderful crow’s feet and smile lines. 

This morning, Harvey took you by surprise by coming in earlier than normal. He came in at 8:17am exactly. It was a warm day so he was without his vest, but other than that he was in his normal attire. Since you were having a slower morning this morning, you started his coffee as soon as you saw him approach. By the time he was in the door and at your counter, you’d finished making his coffee and his cup was ready on the counter. You were feeling bold and flirty and had drawn a heart next to his name on the cup and it was visible to him when he stood in front of you.

“Good morning, Harvey.” You were feeling very cheery this morning, and even more so after seeing him walk in the door. 

“Good morning, Y/N. That for me?” He was eyeing the cup on the counter that was very obviously for him, typical smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eye.

“No, it’s a black coffee with sugar and vanilla for the other Harvey in my life.” You teasingly rolled your eyes as he picked up the cup. You weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you, but it seemed like he was being careful to not smudge your penmanship on the cup.

“Well, it’s a good thing this other Harvey isn’t here so I can have his coffee.” He took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the temperature and smiled. “Perfect as always. Crazy how this other Harvey drinks the exact same niche coffee that I do, hm?”

You bared your teeth in a cheeky smile. “So crazy,” you replied. “Did you want a pastry or anything?” You gestured towards the display case of freshly baked goods, pausing at your favourite. “This one goes down a real treat.”

“How about a rain check on the pastry, and you can bring it with you when I make you dinner tomorrow night at my apartment?” he asked, feeling equally as bold and flirty as you were. He supplemented his question with a warm smile, his entire demeanour oozing confidence. 

“Oh? The elusive Harvey idon’tknowyourlastname asking me on a date, I see?” you teased, though internally you were screaming: ‘YES! I would love dinner with you!’ 

“You’re cute. Is that a yes? Maybe I’ll tell you my last name when you come over.” He was reciprocating your teasing, which you thoroughly enjoyed. You always appreciated a man who could keep up with your humour. 

“I have a better idea. Come back after I close up shop and we can have a reading date. The best way to get to know someone is through the books they like to read.” You smiled shyly, nervous to be rejected, though Harvey didn’t seem like the type of man to rudely reject your ideas. 

His warm smile was all the confirmation you needed. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out the other half of your establishment for some time. I need some enrichment in my life.”

“Well, if by enrichment you mean a cheesy romance, I’m your girl. I have a bad habit of stocking my favourites and I am a romantic at heart, so that’ll make up a lot of what you find here. I have other stuff, too, but I just gravitate to a good romance book,” you rambled. You blushed when you finally caught yourself, smiling as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well, clearly I need some romance in my life. I’ll be here this evening.” He didn’t seem put off by your rambling which you were grateful for. Your stomach buzzed with excitement as you nodded.

“See you this evening.”

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

Harvey had just signed off for the day and was slipping his jacket over his shoulders when Mike Ross walked into his office.

“Haven’t we talked about you not barging in here unannounced?” He asked, only half joking with his associate.

“We both know you don’t care anymore,” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “And where are you going? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “5:30. Why do you get to leave but I’m stuck here late?”

“First of all, it’s none of your business where I’m going. And second, I did my time working 23 hours a day. And third, it’s none of your business.” Harvey made the decision to take off his tie as he spoke, wanting to feel more comfortable and casual while he was with you.

“Removing your tie, too? You have a hot date tonight. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

“Mike. Shut up.” 

Mike laughed at Harvey’s reaction. “Alright, have fun old man. Use protection!” He shouted as Harvey walked out of his office, no longer entertaining Mike’s discussion. 

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrived much earlier than close. You were unusually busy this evening and hadn’t even noticed Harvey walk into the store as you finished the line of coffees in front of you. You finally finished and swapped with your employee to take over as cashier when a familiar voice ordered a familiar, but niche, coffee.

“Can I get a large black coffee with vanilla and sugar? But can the pretty barista make it and sign my name with a heart like she did this morning?” he teased, smiling as he saw you.

“Harvey! You’re early, I’m not off yet,” you replied, brow furrowed with concern.

“I was finished for the day and thought I’d come in early and chill here. And by finished for the day, I mean distracted and eager.”

“And by chill here, you mean bug me until I’m done?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

“Something like that,” he replied, the look in his eye matching yours. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to hope you meant me when you said ‘pretty barista’ and I’ll bring your coffee over to you in a second.” A warm blush tinted your cheeks as you spoke, swapping places with your confused barista once again.

You quickly made Harvey’s coffee and signed his cup with a heart as he’d requested. After making a mocha for yourself, you spoke to your employees, asking them to take over for you now that the rush had started to slow down for the night. You removed your apron and took your hair out of its loose bun and found Harvey sitting on a sofa in the bookstore portion of your shop.

“Coffee for the gentleman.” You held the coffee cup out for him to take, the side with his name written on it facing towards him. “I would’ve made it in a mug but I had a weird request from the guy ordering it.”

You took a seat next to him and brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip and letting out a quiet hum of appreciation for your drink. He looked at you quizzically as you did so, expecting you to have to get back to work. 

“I managed to get off early. Perks of being the owner.” You smiled over your cup as you slipped off your shoes and got comfortable on the sofa. 

“I don’t think I ever registered that you were the owner here. It’s like, I knew but didn’t know. Does that make sense?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his regular coffee.

“It does. Kinda. My brother Michael helped make it happen, he’s a lawyer at some hotshot firm and invested in me and my little dream.” You gestured around the room as you spoke, smiling gratefully at the thought. 

“Did you know I’m also a lawyer at some hotshot firm?” he asked. His tone was light and playful, which you appreciated. 

“I did not. What’s it like, hotshot?” You tucked your feet under you and wrapped both hands around your cup, turning slightly so that your body was completely facing Harvey.

“Well, I’m the best closer in the city. I’m great at what I do and I love doing it. And I have an associate who is determined to become my mini-me. No complaints.” Deep smile lines framed his mouth like a piece of art as you admired him and took in his words.

“A mini Harvey, huh? Sounds like he looks up to you.” Despite your matter-of-fact tone, you were asking a question, curious to know his opinion on the matter.

“It seems like he does. I don’t ever say it but sometimes it feels like pressure. I’ve worked in the grey a lot and I worry about him following in my footsteps. I wouldn’t ever say that to him though.” He opened up to you, though neither of you had expected it. He was surprised by how easy you were to talk to and how quickly he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

“It does sound like a lot, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. My brother always tells me about his mentor; he says that despite making some questionable decisions, he’s great at what he does and he looks up to that. It’s probably a similar situation,” you told him sincerely, reaching out to place one hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. 

“His mentor sounds like a great lawyer. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” Harvey asked, obviously wanting to change the subject from his vulnerable state.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, I have the worst memory literally ever,” you reply, smiling shyly. “I’m good at remembering books, though! Shall we get stuck in?”

“Is this the part where you bombard me with a million love stories?” he teased, clearly amused but secretly excited. 

“God no. Just one. Or you can pick your own.”

“Do you like to reread books?” 

“Oh, I love to. I’ve reread almost all of my favourites.”

He looked at you smiling, amused once again by your answer. “How about this. Let’s read your favourite book together, and then next time we can read mine?”

“Oh? Next time? You’re that sure it’s going to go well tonight?” you asked teasingly, giggling to yourself. 

You stood up and walked to the shelving, immediately finding your current favourite book and pulling out two copies. You got comfortable on the sofa once again and handed one copy to Harvey. “This is a current favourite, but I haven’t had a chance to reread it yet. It’s a university-based hockey romance and the main character is a PhD student who’s half-Indian and vehemently hates hockey players. I loved it. If you don’t like it, please. Do not tell me. I can’t cope with that much heartbreak.”

You beamed at him and Harvey felt his heart melt at your expression. You were clearly passionate and excited to share this book with him, and he was looking forward to reading it; to seeing into a small piece of your soul.

The pair of you read together for about an hour. You kept to a similar pace and offered casual commentary and anecdotes from time to time. You had to resist the urge to spoil the plot, sometimes only offering quiet hums as opposed to full sentences. You gradually felt yourselves growing physically closer, until you were laying down with your head next to his leg and your hair draped across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. He was idly twirling a strand of your hair, only pausing to turn a page when necessary. 

You finished the chapter you were reading and made a mental note of where you were up to before snapping the book closed. “Okay, I think we should call it. I’m starving.” You looked up at him from where your head was resting and watched as he closed the book without his hand leaving your hair.

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Since you chose the book, I’ll choose the restaurant. Sound good?” he asked, looking at you with that smile. 

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” you replied, playfully teasing him.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

After the success that was reading and dinner that night, the pair of you went on another date. And another. And another. The pair of you got to know each other like the backs of your hands and became unashamedly infatuated with one another. Harvey told you about his brother, Marcus, and you told him about yours. You mostly focussed on childhood stories about your whizz-kid brother with the photographic memory, but you occasionally did update Harvey on your brother’s relationship with his mentor. All positive, but you sometimes did joke that he sounded like he could be a bit of a dickhead. 

After about a month of consistently seeing each other, you discussed meeting the family. You were in his apartment with your head on his lap, the pair of you laying in his big comfy bed.

“Well, I only have Michael. Our parents passed when we were pretty young and my grandma passed almost a year ago. So you only have to deal with my brother and my best friend. Super easy,” you told him, idly tracing his skin with your index finger. 

“I have my brother and his family; he’s got a wife and kids. And then my mother but we don’t talk. So a similar situation for you. Brother and some friends. I’d say you can meet my associate and colleagues but they’d grill me rather than you. So would Marcus, actually.”

You giggled at his words but stopped as the seriousness of your relationship started to set in. Talking about meeting the family was a big step for you considering how little family you had. Letting someone into that trauma felt extremely vulnerable but just as quickly as you felt nervous, you felt calm. You were ready for this. You wanted this with Harvey. You decided to mess with him regardless.

“So… You think you’re ready to meet the family, hm? That’s a pretty big step,” you started, pretending to be deadly serious.

“Oh? Is it now? You don’t want to meet my family?” he asked, tone playful but you could tell there was an undertone of nervousness when he spoke.

“Well, I don’t think two people engaging in a casual fling have any business meeting each other’s families. Don’t you agree?” you continued to tease, though Harvey couldn’t tell you were only teasing.

“Is that what you think this is? A casual fling?” The hurt was starting to show in his voice and you smiled, not at his pain, but at the fact that clearly the pair of you were on the same page with how serious your relationship had become.

“Is that not what you think it is? Do we need to have the what are we conversation?” The teasing lilt to your voice was obvious this time, which immediately eased Harvey’s nerves and put him out of his misery. He smiled at you, smile lines popping and his eyes sparkling once again.

“No conversation necessary, baby. You’re my girl and I’m your man.” He tugged on the piece of your hair that was wrapped around his finger, causing you to smile.

“My man? Too old for the boyfriend title, hm? Old man,” you joked, poking him in the abdomen. 

“I’ll show you old man,” he replied, flipping you so that you were pinned to the mattress under him. The pair of you were a giggly, smiley mess, both excited to have established what you were to each other. Both true romantics at heart.

The next morning Harvey left you in his bed, heading to the office after kissing you goodbye. You watched him get dressed and style his hair, finishing his process by skillfully tying his tie. You watched his hands move the whole time, thinking about how they were all over you the previous night, and you sighed contentedly. Once he left, you flopped back onto his bed, hair fanning out across the pillows as you inhaled your boyfriend’s scent. 

You spent the next few hours reading, gratefully taking advantage of your day off. You made yourself an at-home coffee and easily moved around Harvey’s lavish apartment whenever you wanted a change of scenery, taking full advantage of the space. At around midday, you placed a lunch order to pick up from your and Harvey’s favourite café and got dressed, opting for a pretty white sundress. You left your hair down in its natural form and quickly left Harvey’s building, picked up lunch, and headed in to his office building.

On your way to Harvey’s office you, surprisingly, bumped into your brother. 

“Mike? What are you doing here?” you asked, not expecting to see him today.

“Obviously I’m lawyer-ing, Y/N. What else?” he replied. His sassy tone was an exact mirror image of how yours sometimes was with Harvey, and the fact that you were siblings became extremely obvious if someone focussed on your mannerisms.

“You mean fake lawyer-ing?” you teased, tone matching his perfectly.

“Ha ha. What are you doing here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you, taking in your appearance in his place of work and the bag in your hand.

“Obviously I’m bringing lunch to my boyfriend, Michael. What else?” you mocked playfully, wide smile on your face.

“Boyfriend? Here? Who’s your boyfriend?” he started to ask, but before he could grill you, you spotted Harvey walking towards you.

“Hey, Harvey,” you beamed, greeting him with a warm smile as he walked up to you.

He leaned down to give you a quick peck, completely ignoring Mike’s presence. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled, smiling back at you. He finally turned to look at Mike. “Mike, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my associate that I’ve been telling you about, Mike-”

“Mike Ross,” you interrupted, smiling as the realisation set in. Harvey’s associate was your brother. Your brother’s mentor was your boyfriend. You threw your head back laughing once you realised, shocked that nobody had put the pieces together sooner. “Harvey, meet my brother. Michael Ross.”

The shared look on both of their faces was priceless. They looked at you as if you’d sprouted another head, which only made you laugh more. Both of them joined in once they realised the situation, with Mike being the first one to break the circle of laughs in the middle of the office.

“So this is the hotshot lawyer you’ve been basically ignoring me for?” he asked you, gesturing towards Harvey. “And this is the barista slash bookworm you’ve been dumping all your work on me for?” he asked Harvey, gesturing towards you. 

You both nodded and agreed with a perfectly in-sync, “Yes.”

Harvey looked between you both in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Your last name isn’t Ross.” He was asking a question without actually asking, as he often did.

“Very good observation, Harvey,” you replied.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mike chimed in, causing you to smile. The two of you had always been a sarcastic duo, irritating a lot of your older relatives in your younger years.

“Oh my god,” Harvey mumbled, “There’s two of them. Exactly alike. How did I not realise?”

“To answer your unasked question,” you started pointedly, focussing on your boyfriend and suppressing your giggles, “I took my mother’s maiden name as soon as I was able to. Y/N Ross just sounds ugly, and this way, I get to honour her.”

Both Harvey and Mike visibly softened at your explanation. Harvey snapped out of it after a moment. “You’ve been talking shit about me to your pretty sister?” he asked Mike, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“She was my sister before she was your girlfriend, man. That’s my right,” he replied, punching Harvey right back. “Speaking of, if you ever hurt her, I’ll-”

“What are you going to do? Fake lawyer him?” you jumped in at Harvey’s defence, keeping your voice quiet since you were still in a communal area.

“No, I was going to say I’d beat his ass.”

“Like you could. Have you seen his arms?”

“Okay, can you stop thirsting over my boss right in front of me? That’s disgusting.” Mike pretended to gag at your behaviour and you rolled your eyes in response.

“I can do so much worse, Michael,” you teased, pulling Harvey down by his tie to meet your mouth in a (relatively tame) kiss. Mike said nothing but walked away, muttering to himself about your ‘disgustingly inappropriate behaviour’. 

“Now that he’s finally gone,” you started after releasing Harvey from your hold and holding up the bag in your hand, “Lunch?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

oh my lord this was long. i wrote this in multiple sits. nonnie, i hope this was up to your standards. i hope i did your request justice. pls pls pls do give feedback. thank u so much for your request. there are more requests in my inbox which I'll be getting to in the coming days so send them in! for any suits characters, not just harvey! plus characters from other media! (warning, i know nothing about most things but if i can write for you, i will <3)

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

[just-absolutely-super]

Attempting Love Potions

@soulxmakaweek

Day 7: Magic. And what’s more magical than love potions lmao. Yes, I'm pulling the old, "Love Potion No. 9" cliché. BUT WITH A TWIST! Read and find out what that twist is!

Summary: Kim's up to no good, brandishing a love potion guaranteed to make your unrequited love requited. Shame it doesn't seem to work on her intended target...

FF.net // AO3

"C'mon, Maka. You know you waaaant to!" Kim tried to entice, wiggling the little pink vial of liquid in her hand.

The scythe meister scowled at the young witch. "No, Kim. I've told you a thousands times already: I do not want any part of a love potion!"

Maka ignored Kim's pout. Ever since Kim revealed a witch acquaintance of hers had brewed up a love potion guaranteed to make your—quote—"unrequited love requited"—unquote—she had been bugging Maka nonstop to use it on Soul.

The blonde didn't even understand why Kim was so insistent on it. It's not like she liked Soul or anything…

Okay, fine, she'll admit she may be developing feelings for him that may or may not be romantic. HOWEVER, she refused to play Kim's game and force her weapon to develop the same affections toward her.

It was practically inhumane! And probably illegal as Kid hadn't figured out all the details when it came to using forms of magic in this new DWMA/Witch alliance yet…

Kim groaned, "Maka! Everyone knows you and Soul are, like, endgame! Why don't you do every single one of us a favor and speed up the process a little?"

Maka pushed away the proffered drink, "No, Kim. Please stop pushing this. It's making me mad."

She was not above Maka Chopping a friend—ask Soul and Black Star.

Thankfully, the witch backed down, but Maka could tell she was displeased.

"Fine! See if I try helping you gain a love life in the future!"

Maka rolled her eyes, "I don't need anyone's help, thank you very much. If I want a boyfriend, I can get one."

Kim snorted, eyeing Maka up and down, "Not with that figure you ain't."

Maka felt a vein about to burst. Maybe she should go ahead and Maka Chop her. Sure, Kim might get revenge on her in some way, but it wouldn't be anything major considering she knew Kim somewhat feared the scythe meister. After all, Maka did kill Arachne and went toe-to-toe with Kishin Asura.

"Who cares what anyone thinks about my 'figure'?" Maka huffed, "If they were worth anything, they wouldn't care. Anyways, even if I did want to 'speed up' my relationship with Soul—which, by the way, is none of your business—I wouldn't use something as underhanded as a love potion. I want Soul to like me because he chooses to. It's really sleazy trying to force feelings onto somebody, and Soul would never forgive me if I did that to him."

Kim held up her hands in defense, "Okay, okay. I won't bother you about it anymore. Geez, no need to get all noble on me…"

Maka nodded, "Thank you for understanding. I gotta go meet up with Soul now, so I'll see you in Stein's class later today okay?"

Kim waved at her friend's retreating back, "Alright, see you then."

As she watched Maka round the corner, Kim turned her gaze back to the love potion in her hands. She puffed her cheeks out in annoyance. She spent a good amount of money for this bottle!

When her friend Winifred sent out that notice that she had brewed "the perfect love potion," Kim couldn't help but jump on the opportunity. All the students at the DWMA could tell that Maka and Soul were taken with each other, so this felt like the most logical thing to do.

Sure, it may be an…she'll say unorthodox way in getting the two together, but she figured that if Soul started acting desperately in love with his meister then it would kick start his actual real feelings for her.

All the romcoms with love potions ended in happily ever after, who's to say this wouldn't turn out favorably?

Putting the love potion in her pocket, Kim leaned against the wall, waiting for Jackie to meet up with her so they could go to their next class. Across from her she noticed a soda machine. As she stared at it, she felt an idea pop into her head.

Well…Maka did say she didn't want to use the love potion. She never said anything about Kim using it for her own goals.

Goals that happened to involve her two friends getting together, that was.

Letting out an almost sinister giggle, Kim reached into her pocket to locate some change.

----------

Maka and Soul made themselves comfortable in their seats as they waited for Stein to enter the room to begin class. In the row below them, Maka noticed Jacqueline but not her meister.

"Jackie? Where's Kim?" Maka inquired.

The demon lantern shrugged, "I'm not sure. We were on our way here when she told me she had to do something really quick. I asked her if she wanted me to go with her, but she declined and told me to save her seat."

Maka hummed, feeling unease in the pit of her stomach. She hoped this didn't have anything to do with what the two discussed roughly an hour ago…

"Here I am! Sorry for making you wait, Jackie!" Maka was pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of the witch's voice.

She looked normal enough, a bright smile painted on her porcelain face. In each hand were bottles of Coke. Maka felt herself smile. She supposed she was being paranoid over nothing.

"I got us some drinks. Here!" Kim said, placing one bottle in front of her on the desk before offering the second to her weapon.

Jackie frowned, "Kim, you know that I cut out soda from my diet after I got that kidney stone last month. I can't drink that."

Kim's mouth formed an "o" as she dramatically smacked herself in the head, "Oh darn! I completely forgot! Oh well…"

She then turned around, eyeing Soul and Maka…particularly Soul.

"I don't want this to go to waste, so…Soul! Would you like this Coke?"

Soul gave a nonchalant shrug, reaching for the drink, "Sure, whatever."

It was when she saw Kim's triumphant smirk that it hit Maka what game the witch was playing at. Widening her eyes, she reached out to her weapon as he opened the bottle to take a sip.

"Wait, Soul, stop!"

"Yes, Soul, drink it!" Kim exclaimed, grabbing Maka's hand, so she could prevent her from stopping her weapon. She then used her grip on Maka's hand to pull her forward so Maka was the first person Soul saw.

Seeing the strange reaction in front of him, Soul stopped drinking the Coke to give his meister an incredulous stare. "What's the problem?"

Maka blinked at him, biting her lip in anticipation of something happening. But after a minute passed and the only reaction she got out of her weapon was his usual bored expression, Maka felt herself relax before breaking away from Kim's hold.

Kim, on the other hand, gaped at the scythe in shock. "Wait, what?! You look and act the same!"

Soul blinked, his lips turning downwards, "Am…I not supposed to?"

Kim forcefully grabbed the bottle from his hand and sniffed it. Humming in thought she turned back to Soul.

"Did this taste any different to you?"

Soul narrowed his eyes, "I admit, it's a lot sweeter than I thought it'd be. Why? Did you do something to it?"

Kim ignored his questions, chucking the Coke across the room as she ranted and raved about "scams" and how she was going to skin alive some person named Winifred for "making a fool out of her." All the while everyone in the class stared at the pink haired girl as if she had gone crazy.

Soul turned to Maka, confusion clearly written in his red eyes, "What the hell just happened?"

Maka frowned. She knew exactly what happened. However, like Kim, the outcome was not something she expected. The young witch obviously put the love potion in the drink she gave to Soul. Her plan was to trick him into drinking it so it would have the desired effect on him. Only it didn't work.

The question though, was why didn't it work?

Why wasn't Soul in love with Maka?

"Hey, earth to Maka. I asked you a question."

Maka returned Soul's gaze, searching his eyes. They were the same. He really wasn't affected by the magic of the potion.

Before she could explain, she heard the faint rolling of Stein's chair and the subsequent crash of him falling over, indicating the beginning of his class.

"I'll tell you later." She said, hoping by the time the lecture was over and they made it home she'd have come up with an explanation as to why her weapon wasn't head over heels in fake love with her.

----------

An hour and a half later Maka still didn't know the answer.

She and Soul were walking back to their apartment after school was over (the weather was so nice, Maka had begged Soul to forgo using the bike for today). Maka was concentrating silently on her thoughts while Soul trudged afterwards, glancing at his meister every now and then.

"So you gonna tell me what was up with Kim or what?" he asked.

Maka furrowed her brow. In theory the love potion should have worked. Soul didn't love her, so therefore if he had drank the potion he should be acting out of character right now as his emotions were forced to recognize her as the object of his affections. Keyword should. The reality of the situation was that Soul was acting the same, indicating that there was a flaw somewhere in Kim’s plan.

Maybe the potion was faulty? She couldn't imagine a witch selling Kim a product that wouldn't work, but witches were very crafty, so it couldn't be too off the mark.

"Hey, Maka! Are you listening to me?"

Maybe the ingredients of the soft drink messed with the composition of the potion? That seemed like a reach, and she didn't feel the urge to perform experiments in relation to whether carbonation affected your hormone levels or not…

"Maaaaaka!"

Maybe the potion didn’t affect weapons? Or maybe Soul’s Black Blood had something to do with it? Like maybe it protects him from magic and spells. But, wait, then all the magic the witches they’ve faced in the past wouldn’t have affected him either… Ugh, she was getting a headache from all this analyzing.

"Maka Albarn is a scrawny, nerdy bookworm who definitely loves her Papa!"

"Excuse me?!" Maka cried out, halting in her stride. She glared at her partner, feeling the familiar urge to reach for a book.

Soul gave her an infuriating grin, holding his arms over his head in protection of a possible Maka Chop, "I had to get your attention somehow."

She pouted. "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me what was up with Kim in class this afternoon. You told me you'd explain, so start explaining."

Oh, right. Of course. Even if Maka didn't know the full explanation as to why Kim's plan failed, the least she could do was tell Soul what said plan was.

"Alright, I'll tell you. But don't get mad at me about it because I specifically told her not to do it!"

Soul waved her off, "Yeah, sure. I got it. Now spill."

Maka took a deep breath. "Kim purchased a love potion from a witch friend of hers. She's been wanting to use it on you as a…prank."

She'd rather die than tell him the real reason for why Kim wanted to trick him into drinking the potion.

Soul blanched. "A…love potion?"

Maka nodded. "Yeah, she wanted to see if it would work and make you fall in love. I guess she thought it'd be even funnier if it were me you fell in love with…"

She averted her gaze away from his, unable to handle the look of disgust he must have on his face. She already knew he didn't have feelings for her, no need to rub salt into the wounds at his vehement protesting for why he would never fall for her, ever.

"I can't believe it…" he said, shock lacing his voice. Suddenly she heard him growl, "That meddling little bitch!"

While Maka didn't usually condone Soul's harsh language toward their comrades, she admitted he was justified in his name-calling. After all, she was thinking the same thing when she realized what Kim's plan had been with that Coke.

"I know. I told her it was a bad idea."

"A bad idea?! She was basically gonna drug me!"

"I know! It was definitely not cool!"

"Hell no, it wasn't! And she actually thought her stupid little plan was gonna work? As if!"

Maka felt herself wince. Okay, now she was hearing the part of his rant that she didn't feel inclined to listen to. Again, he was justified in his anger, but it didn't make it hurt any less that he didn't want to fall in love with her.

"I mean, of course I didn't fall in love with you after drinking it! I'm already—"

He immediately fell silent, his teeth audibly clicking together with how strongly he snapped his mouth shut. Maka blinked in shock.

"You're already…what?"

Sweat began to form on the Death Scythe's brow. "Nothing…"

Maka narrowed her eyes, "No, you were going to say something. What were you going to say?"

He began walking again, his pace picking up as he swiftly moved passed her, "I wasn't going to say anything, let's just drop it!"

"Hey, wait up Soul!" she called after him, practically running to catch up to him.

"I'm feeling pasta tonight, are you? What would you rather have, fettuccini or spaghetti?"

"Quit avoiding the subject, Soul!"

"What subject? The only subject I'm talking about is pasta!"

Maka screamed in frustration.

Why did she have to fall in love with this moron?

----------

"Uh-huh… Yeah, okay… I get it now. Sorry for bitching at you earlier, Winnie. I'll see you at the next Witch Mass… Okay, bye!"

Kim sighed as she closed her cell phone. She and Jackie were sitting at Death Bucks, having a quick snack before heading back to the girls' dorm.

Jackie sipped her chai tea, "So what did she say?"

Kim stirred her iced mocha, "Winifred's potion wasn't a scam like I thought it was. Apparently, if the person drinking it lays eyes on the person they're already in love with it then there's no effect. Something about their love cancelling out the fake love or whatever."

Jackie nodded, "So it does work, you just have to be sure your target really doesn't love you."

"Yep…" she trailed off.

The two were silent for a second, sipping their respective drinks before Jacqueline spoke up again.

"Isn't this a good thing though? I mean, that means the reason Soul wasn't affected was because he already loves Maka. We now have concrete proof."

Kim nodded, but she still looked peeved, "Well, duh, of course I'm happy that the number one pair at the DWMA is practically one step closer to being a legit couple—fucking ecstatic actually!"

"But…?"

"But I was robbed of wacky hijinks!" Kim bellowed, "That emotionally constipated scythe was supposed to act stupidly in love with Maka! Think of the blackmail, Jackie! All the glorious blackmail!"

Jackie sighed. Sometimes she wished her meister didn't have such a devious side. "Well, maybe Maka will figure out why the potion didn't work and she and Soul can finally be together."

Before Kim could retort, they were distracted by the sudden appearance of Soul who was sprinting at impressively high speeds passed their table.

The two girls blinked, flabbergasted. Before either of them could comment on the strange occurrence, another figure barreled by.

"SOUL EATER EVANS!" Maka Albarn bellowed, "GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE! YOU CAN'T USE PASTA AS AN EXCUSE FOREVER!"

Once the scythe meister had disappeared from view, Kim turned back to Jackie. Her face was passive, as if what had just happened didn't even faze her.

"Please! It's gonna take those two a miracle to get their shit together!"

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - 20 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 6k

----------

Maya wakes up humming “Walking on Sunshine” like she’s a protagonist in a Nancy Meyers movie. She doesn’t hate it. 

By the time she heads back in from her very early morning surf and outdoor shower, she’s full on singing it, scooting barefoot around the kitchen to make coffee, wrapped in a towel, thinking about the night before. 

As badly as she wanted the night to continue, she woke up feeling refreshed by their choice to keep their pace slow and easy. She feels virtuous and clear headed and eager to see him again. 

She plugs her phone in to the impressive house-wide stereo system she installed and puts Katrina and the Waves on repeat, just like they deserve. 

She wonders if Shawn’s awake. Her fingers are itchy for some artistic output. She wants to draw him. She wants to draw him now. 

Maya: hi :) are you up yet?

Shawn: Hey

Shawn: I am now, sugar

Maya: well are you hungry?

Shawn: Oh fuck yes

Maya: good. Come bring me food!

Shawn: uhhh 

Shawn: Maybe if you learn to say please :)

Maya: how about pretty please

Maya: with sugar on top

Shawn: Wow baby

Shawn: above and beyond like always

Shawn: what do u want though?

Maya: anything from that perfect, sensational, wonderful diner of yours

Shawn: liver and onions it is

Maya: gross boy. I was thinking more like a biscuit egg sandwich? I have the good coffee here :)

Shawn: and extra, extra crispy bacon

Shawn: coming right up madame

Maya bites her lip and scampers up the stairs to get ready. Since she’s Maya and he’s Shawn, she forgoes makeup or even blow drying her hair. She pulls on her favorite jean shorts and a bralette with an old t-shirt that swallows her. She thumbs through her pencils, deciding how she wants to draw him when he gets here.

If he wants to be drawn. Maybe they’ll just eat breakfast. Maybe that’ll be fine.

She wants to draw him, though.

Maya bounces around the kitchen preparing the good coffee -- fancy pour over with the good beans that she ground herself. She fights her nerves again, waiting to hear his car pull up. 

Shawn knocks on Maya’s door 30 minutes later,  big brown paper bag, heavy with their favorite hot breakfasts, tucked in his arm. 

His heart is beating a little too fast. He’s nervous. When she said she wanted to hang out today, he hadn’t thought she meant immediately. 

Not that he’s complaining. He can’t believe his fucking luck, actually. 

He hums as he waits for her to answer the door, keeping his free hand shoved in his pocket so he doesn’t use the key under the mat to stroll right in, like he used to. 

Maya is lifting and lowering on her toes, staring at her sketchbook and the charcoal she picked. It’s sitting on the counter to greet him when he walks in. She’s working on being direct, anyway.

She hears him at the door and grins. On her bare tiptoes, she hustles to the door and stops, closing her eyes and taking a breath before opening it.

There he is, curls and smile intact, with her breakfast. She doesn’t think she can stop herself from kissing his cheek. She doesn’t want to. She lays her hand against his arm and pecks him with a slightly wet smack.

“My hero,” she coos, opening the door wider to let him in. 

Shawn flushes when she kisses him. His arm tightens around the bag of food to keep from grabbing her and pressing her into the wall so he can explore her mouth at his leisure. 

He has to behave. 

So instead, he grins and steps through the door, holding up the bag of breakfast in one hand. 

“That’s me, saving the day one breakfast at a time,” he chirps, setting the bag down on the counter. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact that it was a terribly cheesy thing to say. 

Maya’s lips quirk up at the corner. She’s used to him saying sweet things like that and used to the way he blushes for her but somehow none of it ever gets old. 

Shawn thinks, maybe, that Maya likes it when he’s cheesy. Or maybe he just likes to tell himself that. 

Either way, he’s distracted from the thought when he noticed her sketch book resting on the counter. He turns, tipping his head. 

“What’ve you been drawing, Lemon?” He asks with a jerk of his thumb back at the book. 

She starts to unpack the bag of food beside the cups of coffee she poured them when he falls into her innocent little trap. She looks up and glances over to where he’s pointing. 

It’s her turn to blush a little. She looks back with a gentle smile. “Well… nothing yet. I was hoping you’d let me draw you.”

She holds out his cup of coffee as an offering in return. 

Shawn graciously takes the coffee, smirking a little as he perches on one of her barstools. 

“You really wanna?” he asks with a tilt of his head, watching as Maya flits around the kitchen, getting their breakfasts ready. He sips the luxurious coffee, humming softly at the warm, robust flavor. 

Maya busies herself by pulling out a couple smooth porcelain plates from the cupboard. When she turns to face him, she stops. He’s propped up at her island, blinking at her from over the top of his mug, bathed in morning light. His eyes look amber in here at this angle. 

She sighs, smiling. “Yeah. I really want to.”

“Then I really want you to,” Shawn replies, eyes crinkling as he watches her from over the top of his coffee cup. She puts their breakfasts on plates like proper adults, instead of eating right out of the bag like he and Geoff are wont to do. 

“I mean, you totally can. Yeah,” he smiles, wetting his lips. “Am I your first subject of choice?” 

Not that he really cares, but. It would be kind of flattering. 

As she stows the trash from their breakfast, she nods in the direction of the sketchbook.

“You’d be my first human in a while,” she admits, “I’ve been playing with the dappled sunlight through the palm trees in the back. And then last night after you left I tried to draw you again. It didn’t come out the way I wanted.”

She sits across from him, clinking her mug against his before she sips from it.

Shawn grins, big and wide, before dragging his breakfast in front of him. He picks up one of the thick, extra fancy paper napkins Maya buys and shakes it open to drape it across his lap. 

“Can I see it?” he asks as he picks up his croissant breakfast sandwich. He smirks around a bite of cheese and egg and turns to look at her. He swallows, lifting his napkin to his lips.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it. I bet it’s awesome.” 

Maya tries not to feel too hopeful about how at home he looks sitting at her kitchen island. He doesn’t eat delicately, doesn’t look nervous like he did last night when he picked her up. He looks safe and settled. It settles her too.

On the other side of the bar at the end of her island, she flicks some hair out of her face while chomping into her bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel. The bacon crunches loud. He always makes sure they make it extra crispy for her. She smiles and swallows, standing to reach for the sketchbook after wiping her hands. 

He crunches on a piece of bacon, licking the grease and crumbs from his fingers. “Y’know, obviously I’ll let you stare at me for two hours. That just means I can stare at you for two hours.” 

Maya looks up and crosses her legs. Her foot skims his calf under the bar. She flushes, shaking her head at the thought of him staring at her for so long.

She flips the book open and drops it in front of him. It’s simple, a not-too-detailed light sketch of his head, neck and shoulders. She shrugs. “I mean, it’s fine, it just… it doesn’t feel like you. All my drawings of you used to feel like you. And I want you back.”

The gentle brush of her foot nearly burns him, makes him twitch in all of the places he shouldn’t be twitching. He forces himself to focus on her sketch. Shawn thinks it looks like him. It’s just a silhouette, really, but it’s a very Shawn Mendes-esque silhouette if he’s ever seen one.

He looks up, smirking. “Oh, I want you back, too,” he says with a quirk of his brow, then busies himself with his sandwich again, croissant in one hand, coffee in the other.

Maya retracts her leg. They’ve been doing so well. Even if she’s a little antsy, she refuses to blow it now. She licks some crumbs off her lips and refocuses on her food.

Shawn tries not to frown when she pulls away. He gets it, though. Touching like that can’t— it won’t lead to anything productive. It would lead to something fucking incredible, for sure, but it’s something they’re waiting to let themselves have. 

“D’ya like your bagel?”

She nods, “It’s delicious. Thank you for bringing it to me. Especially since I dragged you here under false pretenses.”

She smiles mischievously, looking back at her sketchbook.

He grins, swallowing another bite of croissant. 

“That’s okay. I don’t mind being tricked into a modeling job,” Shawn winks, reaches for his coffee and finishes it off with a hum of satisfaction. The caffeine goes down easy this early in the morning. 

He wiggles his cup carefully. “Is there more coffee, Lu?”

Maya bobs her head, taking his mug and turning for the extra beans she ground. “Always more coffee in my house.”

Turned away from him, she feels her cheeks cool slightly. She shakes her hair off her shoulders, rises and lowers on her tiptoes like she always does when she’s bored or a little anxious. She watches the coffee seep as she pours water through the filter.

He watches her shift with nervous energy. He wonders what she’s nervous about. Drawing him? Or maybe just him? He shouldn’t flatter himself. They’re adults, and it’s not like they barely know each other. 

He figures he’s the only hopeless romantic in this situation, who still gets nervous butterflies around someone that once broke his heart, someone who he’s been sleeping with all summer, whose touch is more familiar than the back of his own hand. 

But he still gets nervous. 

Maybe he’ll write a song about it. 

“Hey, how often do you get to surf out here?”

He looks up from his bacon at her question. He gapes for a moment. Then, “Oh. I, uh, I dunno. I don’t. I haven’t since I’ve been here. Well, maybe I went once or twice before I met Leah. But then, I dunno, I wasn’t good enough to really want to keep going and Leah didn’t surf at all, so.” 

He doesn’t mean to ramble. But he doesn’t know how to say I only ever liked surfing with you without sounding like him from June and not the New, Better Him of Late August. So, rambling.

Maya raises her eyebrows. He gets a bit cagey talking about surfing. Maybe he’s dancing around talking to her about Leah. She doesn’t want that. He should be able to talk about her. She was his wife. It’s still super weird to think that he had a wife, but Maya won’t go around ignoring her.

She tucks some hair behind her ear and hands Shawn his mug back with a reassuring smile. “Well, I’m out front here almost every morning, as you know, if you ever want to paddle out with me.”

She’d like the company. She doesn’t mind surfing alone. In fact, she loves it. But she liked having him out in the sea with her, too. It felt very… complete.

He doesn’t mean to get weird about surfing. He’s just trying not to be that guy. Always romanticizing everything. But it was romantic to him. He only really ever did it because it was something fun to do with the girl he loved. Because she loved it so much, and pretty much anything was fun if he got to do it with her. 

He doesn’t want to fall back into old habits when they’re trying for something new and healthier and better. 

But if she’s inviting him, then. It should be okay. 

“If you protect me from sharks, I’ll come,” he says with a smile. “I only ever really liked it because of you, anyway.” 

If she’s gonna encourage him into the swells, she might as well know exactly why he’s out there. 

Maya’s gaze turns down to the tile floor and her bare, nude-polished toes as she puts their dishes in the sink. She always knew he didn’t love surfing the way she did. She had sort of hoped he still surfed in her absence, maybe because she has this weird hippy-dippy notion that surfing is the cure for all that ails, mind or body, and if she had it her way, the whole world would surf.

But it’s kind of sweet that he associates it with her so deeply that it doesn’t feel right without her. 

Maya finishes the last bite of her sandwich and glances around. “The light is probably good up in my studio. You can bring your coffee if you want.”

Shawn stands, picking up his mug. “I definitely want my coffee. And I’ll drink the rest of yours, too, if you’re finished.” 

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, swinging her sketchbook under her arm and grabbing her cup of coffee so he can drink it upstairs.

She guides him past her bedroom and blinks, trying not to think that the last time he was in there, he was leaving her in tears. Instead, she pulls him into the bright whiteness of her studio, all windows and driftwood floors and soft shades. It’s perfect.

She places her mug just out of his reach and motions for him to sit in the wicker chair with his back facing the windows. She pads to her stool and sits with a smirk.

“You can have that if you’re very still.”

Shawn sits, good for her as ever, and leans back with his mug cradled in both hands. He crosses his legs, smirking at her a bit. 

“You sound like my mum,” he rasps, swirling what’s left of his pour-over in the bottom of the mug before finishing it off. 

He sets his cup on the windowsill. 

“So, what pose should I strike?” he asks as he tucks his hands behind his head, foot rolling in slow circles. 

As soon as he plops himself down in the sun, her mind starts turning. She circles around him, looking at angles, tilting her head this way and that. She plants her hands on her hips and squints, studying him. She hums and bites the inside of her lip.

“I think I’m just going to do your head, actually,” she murmurs more to herself than to him.

She moves in a little closer, leaning in to focus. She feels her heart rate pick up slightly just from getting this close to his stupidly perfect face.

She loses herself a little and reaches up to adjust some curls on his forehead. She inhales and pulls her hand back, blinking quickly.

His eyes fall shut when she plays with his curls. He tilts his head up, but then she’s gone, pulling away quickly like she’s brushed fire. 

“Sorry, I--” She cuts herself off with a chuckle, “Can I fix your hair a little?”

Shawn blinks up at her. “Please do, sugar,” he purrs, wetting his lower lip slowly. 

He likes flirting with her when she’s like this. Intense. Focused. Not that he wants to distract her but— well, he just can’t help it. He’s missed this more than he knew. 

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” he murmurs, letting his hands fall to the arms of the chair. 

Shawn’s wide amber eyes open and blink at her smoothly. Her gaze falls to his lips when he speaks and she has to think hard not to accidentally swallow her tongue. She exhales slowly through her nose and drags her eyes back up to his.

Her brows quirk. “You’re trouble, baby.”

“I’m the kinda trouble you like getting into, though, eh?” he teases. 

He knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it. Making her crazy is one of Shawn’s favorite pastimes. She looks back up to his curls and starts running her fingers through them, more thoroughly than she really needs to because he gets all sweet and breathy when she massages his scalp. She wants to show him two can play at his game.

Maya tilts his head back into her hands and holds him, circling her thumbs against his temples while her fingers fluff up his curls. 

Maya doesn’t disappoint. He closes his eyes once more, presses his head into her fingertips. He hums, sure she doesn’t need to fix his hair this much, but he’s not complaining. 

Shawn presses down against the bumpy wicker weave beneath his palms, the ridges making shallow imprints in his skin. He can’t touch her like he wants, can’t pull her down into his lap. 

He behaves. It’s important to both of them, so he won’t try to ruin it. 

He looks up at her from beneath his lashes, smiling. “Feels nice, Lu.” 

Maya convinces herself to pull her hands back out of his soft curls. She boops her finger against his nose and wrinkles her own. She does strategically place his hair around his forehead and stands up straight again. 

She twists her back to a satisfying crack and groans gently. Surfing’s been kicking her ass but she hasn’t let it slow her down. She refuses to get old. 

She drags her stool closer to him until their knees are almost touching. She lifts her book into her lap and smiles. 

“You don’t have to smile and you don’t have to be silent. I just want to see you being you. You can ask me questions if you want.”

She flips open her book and starts roughly sketching the outline of his head with her charcoal. 

Shawn hums, sliding his hands across his thighs and settling a little more comfortably into the chair. He tips his head, but just slightly. 

“So can I make funny faces at you? Would that fuel your creative spirit?” 

He raises his eyebrows, then laughs heartily, trying not to jostle the curls she so carefully placed in the process. 

He’s so goddamn beautiful when he laughs. She laughs with him because she can’t help it. She wishes she could freeze this moment and copy it perfectly on her sketchbook down to the freckle. 

“Your face is perfect just as it is,” she murmurs and it’s maybe too earnest for the moment but she means it. 

She’s quiet as she focuses, honing in on the way his curls swirl around his ears and on the angle of his jaw. She smiles as she draws. He makes her smile. 

“Huh,” he says, lifting his chin slightly, turning to gaze out through the screened wall. A gentle breeze rustles the palm trees. Gulls call, probably bothering tourists who were naive enough to bring snacks to the beach at this time of day. 

Maya follows his movements closely as he glances out the window. Over the screeching gulls, she hears the scratch of charcoal on her paper. It’s a familiar, satisfying sound. She pokes her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and rubs her finger along an edge. She tilts her head and looks at it before continuing.

“You really think so? That my face is perfect?” he asks as he looks at her again, corner of his lips pulling up as he watches her, perched on her stool. He wishes he could draw for a moment, only so he could draw her. He thinks her face is the perfect one. 

“Because I was thinking about getting a nose job,” he quips, uncrossing his legs and spreading his thighs as he brings his hands behind his head once more. 

She looks up suddenly, snickering, “Don’t you dare touch that nose. I’m crazy about that nose.”

Her glance falls to his legs as he settles in to get comfortable. She blinks and swallows, returning to her page. She continues sketching.

Shawn laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. He was joking about the nose thing, and he’s sure she knows that, but the ferocity with which she defends it makes him want to preen a bit. 

“So that’s why you like riding my face so much, huh?” 

He says it before he can stop himself. It’s a joke he would’ve made in college. One he would’ve made just a few weeks ago. He’s not sure if it’s okay now. 

Maya almost drops the charcoal. She fumbles it between her fingers and feels her chest tighten in panic when her heart skips a beat. She makes an odd choked chuckling sound. 

“Sorry,” he blurts, sitting up a little straighter. He can feel the warm flush creep up the back of his neck and curl around the tips of his ears. 

“We just— you know, before. And you do like it— fuck—“ he laughs, hanging his head and pushing his hands into his hair, Maya’s careful placement forgotten. 

“I don’t know how to pretend like we don’t have a history,” he says finally, blinking up at her, eyes wide with sincerity. 

“No it’s ok. I mean, I do. And…” Maya shrugs, looking back down at her charcoal and the angle of Shawn’s nose she’s just started to shape. She trails off and sighs. 

“I guess I don’t think we should pretend we don’t have a history any more than we should’ve been pretending all summer that we could step right back in again. We know there’s something between us. That’s why we’re here.”

She lifts a darkened fingertip to her cheek unthinkingly and scratches, leaving a smudge behind. “We just have to not let the history control who we are together now.”

Shawn smiles, relaxing back into the wicker chair, elbows resting on the arms as he links his fingers over his stomach. He tips his head.

“You’re smarter than ever, Lu. Don’t know how you do it,” he says affectionately, his lips twitching with a ghost of a smile as he glances at the smudge of charcoal on her cheek.

He’s missed that, the evidence of her art splattered across her body. She used to come back to her apartment shaded in gray, nearly from head to toe. He thinks it’s a great look on her. 

Maya shrugs, looking back down at her sketch. It’s just starting to come together -- the shape of his lips, the angle of his jaw, the slant of his nose. She looks down at it admiringly and keeps sketching, charcoal turning in her nimble fingers.

“I think,” she begins, looking up again, shoulders slouching as she stares past him out the window in thought, “I think when I first left my job I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel something again. That’s part of what ended us up in that situation in the first place. So now I’m trying to use my brain and my heart at the same time,” she chuckles, like it’s a novel idea.

“Just so you know, I’m also here for your money.” 

She narrows her eyes at him playfully and kicks at his knee with her bare foot. “Dork.”

He catches her ankle with cat like reflexes he didn’t know he had. He smiles, pulling her foot into his lap and pressing his thumbs into her calf, carefully kneading the tight muscle. 

“Wasn’t just you,” he continues. “I just— I couldn’t believe my damn luck, y’know?” He glances down at her leg, wets his lips. 

“I still can’t,” he rasps, shaking his head. “I can’t fucking believe I get to even be in the same room with you again, let alone, like, date you.” 

He presses his lips together, cheeks heating. He’s gotta shut up. So instead, he focuses on the impromptu massage she definitely deserves. 

Maya releases a low, throaty grumble that if she opened her mouth would probably be a moan but she keeps it shut. His hands feel good. She’s missed them. 

She smiles bashfully down at her sketch. She wants to answer him. She wants to tell him she feels the same way, that a little part of her, made small by sheer force of will over years of practice, has always wondered if she’d get to see him again, if they could be friends. Honestly, she never even dreamt they could be this again. It felt so out of reach. 

All of it sounds trite. She just grins at him instead and watches him rub her sore, tired leg. She’s never been as good with the verbal affection as he. 

She ducks her head and keeps drawing. “You’re so cute.”

It’s all she can think to say. It feels small. She hopes he knows it means more. 

Shawn’s heart flips. He feels like he’s in high school again, and he’s blushing and preening because the prettiest girl in the grade thinks he’s cute. He chews on his lip, then, “Not as cute as you.” 

He knows Maya’s not big on words. That’s not her love language, or whatever. He’s not sure what it is, but he knows it’s more in her actions than anything she says. He’s used to it. 

He likes it, even, that they express affection differently. He talks enough for both of them, anyway, 

Maya basks, cheeks turning scarlet as she swipes her charcoal, scrubbing her fingers through certain spots before she realizes she’s drawing without even thinking. It’s good -- it’s unusual for her. She usually thinks too hard.

“How’m I looking on there?” Shawn asks after a moment, fingers pressing into her calf just beneath her knee before gliding his hands back down to her ankle. 

She quirks a brow, looking down at her drawing critically. She turns it and holds it up for him to see.

It’s simple, as her charcoal sketches usually are. Maya paints for absolute realism but her sketches are different. She lets them live on their own a little without the heft of detail. She caught the image of him looking out her window in her mind’s eye, so that’s what she drew -- his head at an angle, swirl of curls falling over his forehead slightly, jaw strong and stable.

“Feels like you, I think,” she murmurs.

He thinks it looks just like him. It’s not hyper-realistic or anything, but Shawn likes it better that way. It’s clearly him though, from the slope of the nose to the cut of the jaw and the swooping curl of his hair. 

He smiles. 

Sitting forward, he leans one hand on his thigh and plucks the book from Maya’s fingers with the other. He holds it up, turning so the sketch is bathed in sunlight. 

Maya sits forward and inspects it with him like she’s looking at it with new eyes. She glances aside at him and decides it really does look like him.

“It’s fucking awesome. Can I keep it?”

Maya nods. She doesn’t have the same policy against ripping pages out of sketchbooks that she knows other artists do. She tears it along the perforation carefully and hands it to him with a wink.

“This one’s on the house, Mendes.”

God, she’s cute. 

Shawn takes the picture with a wolfish grin and looks down at it. It feels like more than just a quick sketch. Each stroke seems careful, yet natural and easy. It feels like maybe she loves him.

He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. 

Go fucking slow, idiot. 

She wiggles her leg off his lap and shoves her hands in her back pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels. A thought strikes her.

“Hey, do you want to see that painting?”

He looks up at her suggestion, not having noticed she wiggled away to stand. He nods eagerly, popping out of the chair. 

“Fuck yeah, definitely. I didn’t think it was ready yet.” 

He’s very enthusiastic about the painting and she’s very excited to show it to him. She’s somewhat surprised by this, because she hasn’t wanted to show him any of the art she’s produced this summer, so she thinks this is a good sign.

She has a dropcloth covering the large canvas on her easel to protect it from the sun. She uncovers it carefully, chewing on her lower lip.

Shawn sees the covered canvas and suddenly feels like he’s being let in on a secret. His cheek twitches, mouth lifting at the corner because he feels special for the second time that day, and he kind of can’t believe his luck. (Also for the second time that day.) 

It really is beautiful. It’s exactly the way she has that snapshot of memory in her mind. Their legs tangled on the daybed looking out over the sunset, two stupid kids who think they have the world on lock. It makes her smile, it doesn’t make her sad like she hoped it wouldn’t.

“It’s not totally done yet,” she admits, “You know me, I’m always tweaking something. I’m not happy with the detailing around the palm trees.” She indicates it with a careful brush of her finger.

When it’s uncovered, he sees that it’s stunning. It’s a day he feels like they lived a thousand times, even though they were only in Avila for a few weeks back then. 

“Lu,” Shawn murmurs, smiling wide as she touches the painting like she wishes she had a brush. He shakes his head, stepping forward to take her hand in his.

“Can’t even see what you’re talking about. I think it’s beautiful. It’s like— it’s just how I remember it.” 

Maya squeezes Shawn’s hand. She’s glad to have his approval and praise. She sandwiches his bear paw of a hand between hers and leans her head on his shoulder as she admires it alongside him.

“I was hoping it was. I can see it so clearly in my head. I just want it to be perfect.”

She rolls her eyes at herself and turns her face so her nose brushes his upper arm.

“I’m trying not to do that. Torture myself for perfection I can’t admit that I can’t achieve. It’s hard with something I love so much.”

She thinks maybe that’s why she takes so much solace in surfing. No matter what, she could never be a perfect surfer. The sea is out of her control the way her art feels like it isn’t. Art and surfing are her perfect push and pull.

“So,” Shawn starts, glancing at her with a smile, “still having the same problem that you had in college, then.” 

He looks back to the painting, resisting the urge to brush his fingers across the varying textures built up across the canvas. 

“I’m the same way. Can’t let an instrument go until it’s perfect. And there really isn’t any such thing as perfect. Except for this painting.” 

“I think maybe it’ll live downstairs above the fireplace when it’s really done. What do you think?”

She’s asking like it’s his house too. It’s silly, but she cares.

Shawn presses his lips together, biting back at a proud smile, like his opinion is important to her, even though this is her house, and what he thinks doesn’t really matter. 

“I think that would look incredible. And very impressive when you get to tell someone you painted it.” 

She sighs and nods in agreement. She’d love to think she’s moved past the struggles she had in college. She’s a grown woman. But he’s right. She’s still hyperfocused on perfection. But so is he. 

Maya smiles, gazing at the painting lovingly. She tilts her head, considering. The last four times she’s picked up the palette over the last couple days she has not added anything to the painting. She hasn’t touched it. 

Maybe it’s time to listen to Shawn. 

She swallows anxiously and turns to him. “Will you help me hang it?”

With a quirk of a smile, she glances at the frame she picked out in the corner of the studio. 

Shawn’s brows raise. He looks from Maya, to the painting, then back to Maya. 

“You don’t want to fix the details around the palm trees?”

He’s smiling when he asks. There’s nothing to fix, but he wants to make sure Maya’s ready to take this step. 

The little shit is grinning triumphantly through his question. Maya laughs and shakes her head, squeezing his hand once before she lets go and lifts the painting off the easel, walking it over to her work table where she has the frame ready. 

“I’m ready for the next step,” she tells him gently, carefully dropping the canvas into the frame and beginning to secure it. 

She steps back and turns it over. It looks exactly right, not perfect. 

He tries not to think about symbolism or a thematic meaning behind what Maya says. His romantic heart beats a little faster, anyway. 

With a nod, he takes the painting carefully by the frame. “Okay. You direct, I’ll hang.” 

Maya chuckles and leads him down the stairs, carefully instructing him around corners. The painting is large and an awkward shape for one person to hold but he manages to get it down the stairs without scraping any walls.

She leads him around her coffee table to the nails she’s already strategically placed in the wall above the fireplace, a reminder she’s had way too much time on her hands since they stopped spending every waking moment together (and lots of non-waking moments, too).

She watches the muscles in his back flex and relax as he lifts it into place.

“A little to the left,” she murmurs, chewing on the inside of her lip, admiring him.

Shawn carefully places painting over the nail, sliding it slowly to the left before nudging it up at the corner so it’s straight. He prods it slowly until the bottom of the painting looks parallel to the top of the fireplace. He slowly lifts his fingers away so as not to jostle it, hands still in the air as he glances over his shoulder. 

“How’s that?” he breathes, taking a few steps back to get a better look at the newly decorated wall.

Maya doesn’t look away from the painting when he steps back to inspect it. She crosses her arms and tilts her head in a few different directions. She squints and nods.

“Yeah,” she says, a smile peeking through, “Yeah, that’s what I wanted.”

And it is. She wanted this piece of them memorialized. She thinks maybe getting this image, this feeling down in paint will help them step out of it and not try to walk in their 15-year-old shoes anymore. Because they don’t fit.

She shrugs an arm around his waist and tilts her head on his shoulder.

“I feel good right now.”

“Hey,” Shawn murmurs. His arm falls around her shoulders. “Me, too.” 

He drops a kiss to the top of her head, then gives her arm a squeeze as he turns to look up at the painting once more. 

---------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @siennarossi @lostinshawnsmemory @umbreakablesoul @sleepybesson @shawnsheaven @desire-to-live​ @jillian-nd @shawnwyr @curlsofshawn @graysonmendes @tnhmblive​ @meltingicequeen

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Best. Job. Ever. 6/12

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland’s personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com. (Legal) alcohol use as well but since it’s legal do I really need to tag it?

Word Count: 1254 for chapter 6.

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I’ve kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I’m American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he’d try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he’s still playing Peter.

Chapter-Specific Author’s Note: None?

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

Mmm, such a warm, muscular pillow. Y/N cuddled in further before realizing that pillows weren’t supposed to be muscular. Shit! Her eyes popped open.

Oh my God.  She and Tom had both fallen asleep while watching the movie the previous night, and she had been cuddling him while they slept.  This definitely goes beyond the realm of friendship.

Her arm that wasn’t currently wrapped around Tom’s middle was trapped under the pillow Tom was laying on, so she couldn’t move without waking him up. Y/N slowly removed her free arm from Tom’s waist and was trying to figure out the best way to free her other arm so she could sneak out of his room when she heard Tom’s voice say sleepily, “I can feel you overthinking from here, Y/N. Relax.”

She froze as Tom turned towards her. “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” he said with a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

Y/N's heart fluttered and she blushed. “Morning.”

Tom sat up, the comforter bunching around his waist. “What time is it?”

As if in answer, Y/N's alarm started going off. “6:30,” she answered, reaching for her phone.

Tom stretched, letting out a huge yawn.

He and Y/N locked eyes and the full hilarity of the situation suddenly struck, causing them to both burst into laughter.

“Wow, I slept great. Who'd have thought I would just need a bit of a cuddle?” Tom howled.

“I- I never thought that I'd ever wind up having to do the walk of shame, much less quite like this!” Y/N gasped in between hysterics, setting them both off again.

Once they finally calmed down, Y/N slid out of the bed and put her shoes back on. “I better get back to my room so I can shower and go get our coffee. I’ll see you in a little while?”

Tom smirked. “Actually, since we *did* sleep together I can at least do the gentlemanly thing and join you for breakfast this morning.”

Y/N laughed. “Ok. Give me 30 minutes to shower and change and I'll meet you downstairs?”

Tom nodded, running his hands through his adorably disheveled bedhead. “Ok, see you soon then.”

Y/N flew through her shower and threw on some clothes, forgoing makeup except for a swipe of tinted lip balm, then headed downstairs to the restaurant.

Tom was seated at what Y/N was starting to come to know as ‘their’ table, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.  He was talking on his phone, but looked up with a smile and a slight wave when Y/N joined him at the table. “Hey, I have to run, but let me know your flight details when you figure them out. I'll see you soon, ok? Yeah, later, mate.” He hung up with a grin. “My best friend Harrison is coming into town on Thursday to hang out for the weekend.”

“Oh that's great, has it been a while since you've seen him?”

“Yeah, a little while. He's been busy with other projects, which is why I needed a P.A.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I went ahead and ordered your usual, if that's okay with you.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, that's perfect.”

Their server came by with another mug and poured Y/N a cup of coffee. Y/N fixed it to her liking and took a sip, closing her eyes in satisfaction. “Mmmm, so good.” She licked at a stray drop on her lip and noticed Tom staring at her. “What?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing.” Tom quickly averted his eyes and sipped his own coffee.

“Is everything ok? Is there something on my face?” Y/N grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

“Nope, everything’s fine. Good. Great, even.”

Y/N thought about pressing further but she was interrupted by their order being delivered.

After their server left, she said, “Once you find out Harrison's flight information for Thursday, I can make arrangements to have him picked up at the airport.”

Tom shrugged. “I think he was planning on catching a later flight out of London, so I'm sure he’ll just get an Uber to the hotel. Let me double-check with him though.” He sent a quick text. “Okay, that’s done.”

“Ok, awesome.”

“Haz is really cool. You'll like him.”

Y/N smiled. “Well if he’s anything like you, I’m sure I will.”

Tom grinned bashfully and shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll like you too.”

As they were finishing their breakfast and getting ready to go meet James to head to set, Tom’s phone chimed with a text.

“Yeah, it’s like I thought: Haz said thanks for the offer, but he’s taking a late flight out of London and won’t arrive until around 6 PM, so he’s just going to catch a cab or an Uber to the hotel.”

“Okay then.”

Tom put his phone away. “Ready?”

Y/N nodded and took one last sip of her coffee. “Let’s go.”

The next few days flew by and the next thing Y/N knew it was already Thursday.

Tom was obviously excited to see Harrison, and was fidgety the entire ride back to the hotel. Y/N had ordered dinner before they left set, so it arrived shortly after they did.

They ate dinner together in Tom’s room, but instead of hanging out afterwards as usual, Y/N got ready to go back to hers as soon as they were done eating.  “So I’m gonna head out…”

Tom looked surprised. “You don’t want to hang out tonight?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nah, Harrison should be here in a bit so I’m gonna let you & him have your guy time. See you in the morning?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, see ya then.”

Y/N gave Tom a hug. “Night, Tom.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Y/N got back to her room and had just gotten out of the shower when her phone rang.

“Laura, hey!”

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to reach you, I’ve had an insane shooting schedule for the past few days and am just now getting back to some normal hours.” So, what was it you were needing advice about the other day?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s all good.” Y/N told Laura about going to Rent with Tom, the kiss on the cheek, and she and Tom falling asleep together after watching Doctor Who. “Girl, I was so freaked out at first, but Tom and I just laughed it off and everything’s cool. Oh, and his friend Harrison is coming into town tonight to hang out for the weekend.”

“Well it sounds like you’ve had an amazing week.”

“I really have. I still can’t believe I actually got to see Rent live and in person! Tom surprised me with front-row seats, then we went back to his room and watched the film version.”

“I’m so jealous,” Laura sighed. “You are so lucky.”

“I knooooowww.” Y/N flopped down on her bed. “I have to run now though because Tom has an early call time.  It was supposed to be a late filming day tomorrow but the schedule was rearranged due to rain.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you again soon, Y/N. Bye!”

“Bye, Laura!”

She hung up her phone and plugged in her charger, then grabbed the book that she had brought with her and settled into bed.  In no time at all she had fallen asleep.

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 16)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2076 Warnings: angst

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 15 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Your jaw dropped down thirty-six floors to the ground level and then some, feeling as if your mouth was so wide you could swallow an entire subway train. Your heart forgoes its steady beat for a wild rhythm of a song you couldn’t hear since your ears were clogging up.

The vents in Sue’s office blew out hot steam and you were instantly sweating, beads trickling down your temple and appearing above your top lip. You wanted to scream and cry at once but you felt frozen in your seat, staring back at the picture of you and Lance together.

“You lied to me,” Susan said as you looked up at her with guilty eyes.

What could you say? There was obviously no denying it, not with the proof staring back at you. Sorry doesn’t explain why you lied but is that what she wanted to hear? Or did she want to hear the truth? Did she want to hear about half a lifetime of memories with the boy who became an Olympic winner after breaking your teenage heart? You told her from the start this was a bad idea but she didn’t listen.

“It’s personal,” you muttered quietly.

Susan clasped her hands together and you could see the tension in her fingers, turning white as she squeezed her own skin. “Be that as it may this company has a reputation. I have a reputation and as your editor and boss this is something I should have known about.”

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, “I apologize. It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss but my prior connection with Lance Tucker has no impact on my work today.”

“No impact?” she scoffed. “Is that why you missed the opening?”

Sue cocked her head waiting for your answer but you simply couldn’t respond. She was right, from the start your relationship with Lance affected everything, from the petty and childish ways you both acted until you finally resolved the issue from your past and moved forward. Everything was perfect until that phone call.

Something didn’t feel right. There was no point in lying to Susan now, you had to put everything out there if you were going to get to the bottom of this.

“Something happened,” you began, and Sue sat back, preparing herself for whatever you were going to say next.

After skimming through the events that transpired and briefly describing Dorothy’s condition you explained the phone call. “He said that I called his mom but I never did. Sue, this woman was like a second mother to me I would never jeopardize her health over this article especially when things were progressing.”

Sue frowned, also puzzled by your story though it wasn’t the full truth.

“Because of the phone call Lance pulled out of the article.”

“Shit!” she cursed, huffing loudly.

Sue slammed her hands on the desk causing a few papers to move around. As you stared at the photo on her desk you wondered how it ended up in her hands. That was the picture your mom accidentally sent to your work email, and your computer was on but you remembered logging off, specifically pulling your phone charger out of the port to take with you.

“Who gave you this picture?!”

Your foot nervously tapped as you waited for the elevator to descend. Harsh puffs of air blew out from your flaring nostrils, you felt like a bull ready to charge. Once the doors opened you began your stampede, zeroing in on the person who fucked everything up like they were a matador waving a red cape, except in this scenario the bull will not go down.

“How could you?” You harshly pulled Heather’s chair back, spinning her around to face you.

“Excuse me?” she feigned snotty innocence before dropping it when you told her about the photo. “How could I? You’re the one that lied Y/N! That article should have been mine considering I actually like the guy!”

Your head shook in disbelief, if she only knew the pain she caused to the supposed “guy she liked.”

“Oh but wait that’s another lie! I saw the way you looked at him,” she paused to pull out her phone, bringing up a photo of you and Lance kissing at the table from the night of your birthday, unaware someone had snapped a photo of what they tagged as #TuckersGoldenGirl presumably because of the glow of the candlelight.

“I can’t believe you Heather. I thought we were friends,” you sighed.

“You thought wrong,” she snapped back.

You once considered Heather a close friend. She understood your schedule and always kept in touch while you were away, keeping you updated on all of her dates, she even tried to introduce you to some guys when you would hang out outside of work. She was always there for you but you were wrong and it hurt.

“Sue knows you lied so now I’m gonna write that article and then I’ll be with Lance. He wants someone like me anyway– ruthless, determined… someone who knows what it takes to be the best!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how wrong she had everything. “You don’t know him at all and there is no article Heather because of what you did. Why would you call his mother?”

“I needed information, not that she would give me anything,” Heather blew it off not understanding the severity of the situation. “Besides he’s a big boy, one call to mommy won’t hurt.”

Once again you found yourself in a situation where your hands became balled into tight fists and it hurt you to the core to restrain them at your sides and not put them through Heather’s face. There will already be repercussions from lying to Sue; you do not need an assault charge on top of it.

“You stupid girl, you have no idea what you’ve done!” you exclaimed, thinking about Dorothy’s health while she mistook it.

“Whatever, there will always be more articles,” she laughed wickedly, unaware of the person standing behind her.

“Not for you Heather,” Sue sternly said. Heather turned around to face her boss who stood behind her looking unamused by the young woman’s antics. “You’re fired, pack up your things and go.”

Heather stood up, pathetically begging Susan that she had it all wrong and that you should be fired. It was quite comical especially since you saw Susan approach Heather’s desk midway through your conversation though you didn’t let that on. Alyssa arranged for security to escort Heather out of the building as you followed Sue back to her office.

“I’m honestly very sorry Susan. Lance and I were really close during our childhood but we had a falling out. I hadn’t really thought about him in years and when you approached me for the article I panicked. Funny thing is we patched things up,” you sighed heavily, briefly recalling all of the wonderful moments you and Lance shared, from dinners to Weeki Wachee and even splitting your pants.

A wave of hot tears threatened to spill, your lip trembling as you remembered your nights together, in each other’s embrace once again. Your voice cracked as you continued to apologize, “I should have told you though.”

Rummaging through your bag you unsuccessfully searched for a tissue, looking up to see Susan place a box in front of you for the tears that began to fall. Nodding a thank you to her as you wiped them away along with your running mascara.

“This is all my fault. If you knew about this then Heather wouldn’t have tried to sabotage the article but more importantly she wouldn’t have disturbed Dorothy Tucker.”

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me you weren’t comfortable doing the piece. I would never have put you in that situation,” she said, offering a smile of relief. “Unfortunately your undisclosed relationship puts you and this company at risk, especially with pictures of you and Lance on Instagram. We are unbiased journalists Y/N; we show no favoritism to any athlete, sports team or league.”

Sue took a few sips of her coffee that was evidently cold by her disappointed face after setting it down. “Here’s the bottom line, as long as everything was consensual…”

She paused, waiting for your answer to which you nodded, “Then everything is fine. Well in this case it’s not fine. Had you been able to run the interview you would have to disclose your prior relationship but now we have nothing.”

Sue informed you that you’d be suspended without pay for the next two days, the days you technically would have still been in Spring Hill for, and that you would have to reimburse the company for the expenses of the trip that did not produce the article it was intended for. It was a financial sting but no pain compares to the heavy lump in your chest, the now broken heart that longs for days it was overflowing with the love you felt for Lance.

Pushing up from the chair you thanked Sue and began to leave, “Y/N I just have to say one more thing,” she said, waving you back. “Talk to Lance. Speaking as your editor I would love to run that article.”

You wanted to say he probably blocked your number by now but she continued, “But as your friend…” Sue smiled and once again tears made their presence known, burning their way out upon hearing her words, “…you obviously care for him. At the very least he should know the truth about the phone call.”

Wiping away a few more tears you nodded with a tight lipped smile, “Thank you Susan,” you said. She walked you to the door of her office, wrapping her arms around your back for a brief but firm hug.

Before heading home you made a stop to a bakery nearby, getting an order of chocolate dipped cannolis for yourself because after today you absolutely needed the sweets. While retrieving your mail you noticed your elderly neighbor struggling to balance a few bags and grip the handrail of the staircase.

Moving quickly before she lost her balance you came up beside her, “I can carry those if you’d like Mrs. Daniels.”

She thanked you as she sluggishly made her way up the steps, you followed with precaution in case she needed your assistance. Thankfully she was she was only on the second floor, you had six excruciating flights to walk up thanks to your building not having an elevator.

When she made it to the front door her keys jingled loudly as her shaky hands struggled to insert the key but finally she unlocked her door.

“Thank you dear,” she said. “Did you just move here?”

You smiled in return, shaking your head no. Mrs. Daniels was one of the first people you met when you moved in a few years ago and granted you hadn’t seen her much it goes to show how little time you actually spent here.

After waking up the rest of the way you finally made it inside, kicking off your shoes for the comfort of fuzzy socks, trading your restrictive clothes for leggings and a soft t-shirt, once again ignoring the blue one that reminded you so much of Lance’s beautiful eyes.

Grabbing your laptop you ate a cannoli on your way to the couch, making yourself comfortable as you stared at an empty screen. For the two days you were at home you worked hard, pouring your heart out through every word you typed.

Back at the office you were focused on making arrangements for future articles with athletes or their agents. Lance was always on your mind but you tried not to focus on him. It didn’t help when rumors circulated around the office about Heather’s dismissal. Even though she was no longer your friend you knew firsthand how damaging rumors can be, Lance’s reputation is proof of that. You gave a generic answer about her unprofessionalism, it was the truth any way and no one needed to know any further details.

Every night after rushing through dinner you went back to your laptop, writing, editing and rewriting, staying up well past a normal bedtime until everything was complete. Hovering the mouse over the send button you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and clicked. The email to Lance was sent and now all you could do was wait.

PART 17

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Tony's an android that's linked up/can communicate with other tech while Bucky's a cyborg. Maybe Bucky finds Tony lying in a trash pile somewhere, Tony had been on the run from people who had been using him for bad things and ran out of power. Bucky fixes him up and Tony pays him back by upgrading his arm. Bucky's surprised by the level of detail in Tony's work and how advanced he is, it turns out Tony was Stark Industries's secret weapon.

The garbage under Bucky’s foot slipped and Buckystumbled. His boot dove into the depths of the trash, and a neon green liquidsplashed up from where his foot had landed. Bucky grimaced behind his facemaskand yanked his foot out from the hole it had fallen into. He examined his boot,searching for any signs that the green liquid was acidic. He’d lost many bootsthat.

“You okay, Bucky?” Steve hollered from the trashhill just meters away from where Bucky was rummaging for anything that lookedlike it could be repaired and reused. Steve was a frail thing, and we wouldkick the ass of anyone who tried to remind him. Steve took the term “frail” asa slight against his height and lack of muscles; Bucky often have to defend theterm via the fact that Steve was frail because he couldn’t go a month withoutsome disease that left him bedridden for days. Even so, Steve punched him everytime for the reminder—in a “friendly” manner, of course.

“I’m fine.” Bucky huffed. He kicked the head offa broken, one-eyed doll.

“What?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky raised his voice so Steve couldhear him. He didn’t want to speak too loudly. Steve and Bucky weren’t the onlyones who went through the garbage dump in search of goods, and not all thepeople who did so were the savory type.

Then again, most people who lived in the outerrings of Midgard had an edge and hardness to them. Those in the outer rings hadbarely enough to survive, and therefore had to get creative and aggressive withhow they made their living.

Bucky’s left arm spasmed, and he dropped his sackof goods. He sighed and watched as his metal arm twitched without his say-so.The damn thing was always going off every now and then like it had a mind ofits own.

Bucky was grateful to have an arm at all—he’dlost his flesh one some time ago—but it would be nice if he could go a daywithout it acting up.

Once his arm quelled its movements, Bucky pickedup his sack, threw it over his shoulder, and skidded down the side of the trashhill. He’d looked the hill over thoroughly; it was time to check out anotherone.

Steve and he had come too late. Most of the goodsbrought in from the inner rings trash had already been taken. There wasn’t eventhe misplaced chunks of scrap metal that Bucky and Steve always made a point ofgrabbing. The scrap yard was guarded day and night, so the best place to getscraps was from the garbage dump. Steve and Bucky had witnessed many who triedto sneak into the scrap yard only to be tasered then taken somewhere to neverbe seen again. The scrap yard wasn’t worth the risk.

Bucky rounded a trash pile and stopped just shortof someone lying against the pile. A sheet stained with blood was draped overthe person so only their face was visible. It was a man, possibly a few yearsolder than Bucky. The man’s hair even when mussed appeared to have been styled,and the shaven design of the man’s facial hair suggested he was a resident ofthe inner rings.

Bucky knew all about inner ring members beingtossed to the outer rings, and while it wasn’t uncommon for such folks to windup in the dump, looking for anything to get by, it usually wasn’t until a fewdays after they’d been booted. The man in front of Bucky looked too clean tohave been in the outer rings that long.

Bucky frowned and approached the man. It was thenthat Bucky realized the man wasn’t breathing.

Even for a fresh corpse, the man would be showingsigns of discoloration by now.

Android. Bucky had run across plenty when the militarystill had humans in its employ and he had been a part of it. None had everlooked so human-like though. There had always been something that gave themaway. Usually it was a seam or just simple positioning and movements that didnot look natural on any human that gave away androids.

Bucky yanked the bloodied sheet off the androidand prodded it. He jerked away in shock at the feel of flesh and warmth.Bucky’s heart pouded in his chest as doubt about whether or not the beingbefore him was human or android slammed into him.

Perhaps the man was even a cyborg, like Bucky?

Bucky checked the man’s pulse but felt nothing.He gently flipped the man over. His nerves were on edge the whole time. If hewas dealing with a living being then Bucky moving them should cause them tostir. No such thing happened though.

Bucky inhaled sharply at the round contraption inthe man’s chest. A soft, barely there, blue light flickered within the device.The contraption looked like a power core, but if it was, it was barely emittingany power.

If the man was a cyborg then the device mostlikely was for his respiratory system and/or heart.

The man would die within the hour if that was thecase.

Bucky forgoed his sack of goods and slung the manonto his back. He was not going to let someone die in a dump.

(Mobile readers: Read More)

“This is nuts.” Sam cocked the man’s head to theside and peered into the man’s ear. “I could almost believe he’s human.”

With the help of Steve, Bucky had carried theunconscious man (android?) home from the dump. They had been greeted by acurious and slightly panicked Sam, but once Bucky gave a quick explanation, Samtook the lead and set about examining the android.

“Almost?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chestas he did another once over of the android he’d found in the garbage dump.“What gives him away to you?”

“I don’t see anything different,” Steve said fromhis spot on the floor. He had a torn jacket in his lap and was doing what hecould to salvage it.

“The moment I pried his eyelid open is what gaveit away. Too perfect, especially for someone blacked out in the middle of adump. Plus, he’s got a microphone in his ear. It’s subtle, but recognizable.”Sam let the android’s head flap down then went over to a box of cables the triohad collected over time. Sam hummed as he rifled through the cache until hefound a gray cable. “This should do. I’m just going to hook it up to a battery,and see if we can get this guy operational again.”

“He could still be a cyborg,” Bucky countered. Aperson could be ninety-percent machine and they would still be considered acyborg.

Bucky grabbed a car battery off one of theirshelves of junk. Electricity was costly and a sudden spike in their electricalusage could draw attention from those Bucky and his friends would prefer not toknow of their existence.

Sam took the battery from Bucky. “Well then, feelfree to ask him when he wakes up, but until then, we’re going with my androidtheory. Unless you don’t want to trust the guy who you’ve been running to everytime your arm starts acting funky.”

Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “Fine,fine. You’re the boss.”

Sam would have the best guess out of any of themanyway. Bucky had loved taking tech apart and putting it back together when hewas a kid, but his depth of knowledge only went to what had been commonhousehold items for him at the time. Sam was no scientist or engineer, but he’dpicked up a few things while he’d been in the air force, and that hadbenefitted the trio of friends greatly.

“If he is an android, what are we going to dowith him?” Steve inquired. His brow furrowed as he mulled over his ownquestion. “Having an android around could be helpful, but it would draw a lotof attention. Someone will come to investigate to find out how a couple ofex-military living in the slums got a hold of one.”

“No one we know is going to want to buy him—it—either.”Bucky rubbed the a knot forming in the back of his neck. It’s not that peoplewouldn’t mind having an android—especially if it was one that was programmedfor menial jobs and not just shooting enemy targets; however, no one had thecredits to afford a fully functioning android, and just like the trio, mostpeople didn’t want the government’s attention drawn toward them.

Bucky could take the android apart and use it forscrap. He’d have no problem doing it too if the android didn’t work, but if theandroid functioned properly it would pain Bucky to do so. Even if he knew therewas no chance they could sell the android, it would still sting to know he wasdestroying something that sold for thousands of credits, if not more.

Sam patted the android on the head. “Well, whilethis fella charges, let’s take a look at the other crap you brought me.”

Bucky sighed, his thumb hooking around his beltas he shook his head in disappointment. “You’re going to cry.”

Sam didn’t cry outwardly when he rooted throughSteve’s sack only to find a few pieces of junk that could be spruced up andused. Bucky swore though that inwardly his friend was tearing up and cursingout whoever he felt responsible for the lack of goods.

Bucky wasn’t the only one with the same opinion,because after a few seconds of Sam staring blankly at Steve findings, Steveclapped Sam on the shoulder and said: “We’ll make due.”

Bucky set about making lunch and let Steve assistSam today on repairs. Sam wasn’t as much of bitch to Steve as he was to Buckywhen their hauls were lacking. Obviously, Steve was Sam’s favorite.

Bucky had finished prepping the vegetables whenhe glanced over to the “parlor” (the parlor, which was also the living room,the workshop, the guest room, and sometimes an extension of the kitchen).

Bucky froze as unfamiliar brown eyes jumped fromcasually looking at Sam and Steve, who were combining two toasters into one, tozooming in on Bucky. The android was awake, and whatever the hell Sam had saidabout his eyes giving him away sure as fuck seemed to be a lie, because thoseeyes were pretty damn human looking. Hell, his eyes were even squinting like ahuman’s as he scrutinized Bucky’s metal arm. His skin wrinkled around his noseas he scrunched his face.

“You’re just three men from the slums,” theandroid said.

Steve and Sam jolted with surprise and whirledaround to see the android was awake.

Sam cursed. “He looks a lot more human when he’sawake. Maybe he is a cyborg.”

The android (or whatever the fuck he/it was),cocked his head then smirked. He gestured to the car battery and wires hookedup to him. “I guess I owe you one. Thanks for the recharge.”

Bucky muscles tensed. He’d never heard anyandroid speak like that. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met an android whosmirked.

Steve snapped out of shock first and struttedover to the man. “You can start by telling us who or what you are.”

“Tony,” the man supplied. He leaned casualagainst the wall, crossing one leg over the other. “And I’m a treasure.”

Steve frowned at Tony’s response. “What does‘Tony’ stand for?”

“Highly praiseworthy, last time I checked.”

Steve was thrown by Tony’s answer. “It’s not anabbreviation?”

“It could be.” Tony rested his hands behind hishead. “If you want to know if I am an android, you could just ask.”

Bucky, Steve, and Sam all shared looks. All ofthem knew that the government and the companies it had under contract weretrying to make more human-like androids, but Tony’s casual demeanor, hisgestures, and the way he spoke were so very human that all of them doubtedtheir earlier assumptions. Add to that suspicion, the way he responded to acommand and his name not standing for anything, it was hard to believe he wasanything other than cyborg.

“Keep gawking boys and I’m going to develop acomplex,” Tony teased.

“What were you doing in the garbage?” Steveasked.

Tony shrugged. “I thought I had more power than Idid.” Tony patted the device in his chest.

“You weren’t breathing.” Bucky watched the riseand fall of Tony’s chest.

Tony shrugged. “Obviously, I was only mostlydead.” Tony grinned and looked at Steve, Bucky, and Sam as if he were waitingfor them do something. When they didn’t react, he frowned. “Probably too old astory for you to get the reference.”

Tony cleared his throat and stood. His kneeswobbled as he tried to find his balance. “Not to be a pain, but you wouldn’tmind letting a guy hang around for a few days, would you?”

Bucky was about to explain that had been theplan, but Sam cut in. “I mind. You’re acting pretty evasive.”

“I’m just shy.” Tony waved off Sam’s comment.“I’ll repay you. I just need some time to charge this.” Tony gestured to hischest device. “As well as some time to look into a portable battery pack or abetter energy source so I can keep going well after we have separated.”

Steve and Sam shared looks of skepticism. Buckycouldn’t deny that he also was beginning to feel the stirrings of doubt inregards to Tony.

Tony’s eyes slid over to Bucky’s arm. “Okay. Howabout you let me fix his arm so it doesn’t act like it’s possessed every nowand then, and if I do a good job, you consider letting me stay a night?”

Bucky jolted and covered his arm with his fleshhand. “How do you-”

“I recognize that crap piece of a model. Thatthing is barely worthy of being scrap metal.” Tony put a hand on his hip andgestured at the room. “Listen, your operation here is cute, but it’s obviousthat you’re all amateurs. If you don’t want to trust me with the arm, I cantake a look at something else first.”

“You really don’t want to go home,” Steve stated,suspicion leaking into his tone.

“What home?” Tony asked. He shook his head.“Doesn’t matter anyway. As I said, I need time to charge or else I’m just goingto end up back in that dump or in some alley.”

It was a valid argument. Bucky hadn’t carriedTony all the way home just so the guy would end up unconscious on the streets.“One night isn’t going to kill us,” Bucky said. “And why not see what he can dowith some of this junk? It’s already broken.”

Sam and Steve mumbled their agreements after amoment of judgemental silence and pondering. Bucky understood where theirhesitance came from. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to help someone in need,but Tony’s evasive behavior when they inquired about what or who he was madethem wary. He had yet to give them a straight answer, and while he could justbe a secretive person, he could also be hiding something that could put thethree of them in danger.

Tony beamed. He bent and picked up the carbattery so he could walk around while still charging. He plopped it on thekitchen table-turned-work table. “Now, slide over those toasters and let a proshow you how it’s really done.” 

The one night stay grew into two then three, andsoon Tony had stayed a week with Bucky, Steve, and Sam. He was a genius withmachines and tech, and repaired things faster than Sam, Steve, and Bucky evercould. He’d also taken scraps that they left lying around and built devices andcontraptions that the trio had only ever dreamed of being able to building intheir humble abode.

Tony was still evasive, and none of the trio wascertain if he was cyborg or android. When they had finally asked him pointblank, Tony’s response had been, “Does it matter?”

On the day they had met, Bucky might haveanswered yes, but after a week of living together, whatever Tony was, he wasintelligent to the point of sentient. If he was an android, he wasn’t a“thing,” and he deserved to be treated no different than any other sentientbeing.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’refinally letting me do this.” Tony pulled up a stool across from Bucky and laidhis makeshift tool belt on the table next to where Bucky had laid his metalarm.

Bucky’s fingers twitched against his will.

He grimaced at his fingers “My arm bother youthat much?”

“Your arm is like a teenager who thinks it knowsbetter than everyone else. I’m going to teach it a few lessons that will makeit a mature adult.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “That’s a weirdanalogy.”

Tony bent over Bucky’s arm and felt along thepanels before selecting his tools for the operation. “Not my best, but it getsthe point across.” Tony winked at Bucky. “I promise when I am through, your armwill be worthy of being attached to such a strong and handsome guy asyourself.”

Bucky cocked his head. The corner of his mouthcurved into a bemused smile. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I am stating facts.”

“Sure you are,” Bucky said sarcastically.

Bucky watched Tony as the genius worked. Tony wasmeticulous. He constantly checked with Bucky to make sure Bucky wasn’t feelingany pain as he worked. He was a professional, and a professional like Tonywould excel in the inner rings of Midgard. There were only a handful of reasonswhy someone like Tony would be in the outer rings.

“You’re running from something, aren’t you?”Bucky asked.

Tony didn’t stop working. “Aren’t we all?”

Bucky kept quiet and watched Tony work. WhateverTony was running from, it was probably for the better that Bucky didn’t knowwhat it was. It meant he wouldn’t have answers when someone came looking forTony and Tony was gone.