#peptokotes

[aethelar]

I'll pay you for more fireman graves au, now i dont have money but i can in reblogs and tears

[reblogs and tears gratefully accepted, more fireman graves coming up. previous fireman graves is over here]

Thursday, went Graves’ strict instructions from Queenie. Three o’clock. Jacob’s.

On Thursday, at three o’clock, Graves went to Jacob’s. Bakery, not house. His hair was pushed back, his dark glasses were on, his shirt was sleeveless. He approached the bakery at a leisurely stroll.

“He’s going to walk past the window,” Queenie said to Tina in a sotto voice. “Where’s Newt sat?”

“The window,” Tina replied with the grim determination of a battle commander and dived for her phone.

Look up, she texted.

Over in the window, perched on the edge of a low armchair, Newt startled, kicked his shin against the coffee table in front him, and sent his phone flying across the floor.

“Wait, that’s Newt?” Queenie asked as the disaster in question dived under the table.

Tina buried her head in her hands. “That’s exactly him,” she confirmed despairingly. Newt progressed to hitting his head on the leg of the table and frantically scrabbling to right his mug before it spilled.

Graves and his arms sauntered past the window. It was, objectively, an excellent entrance, full marks for sexiness, extra points for running a hand through his hair as he went, stellar example of hotness all round.

Newt, phone in his mouth as he mopped up coffee with a fistful of paper napkins, completely failed to notice.

“It’ll be ok,” Queenie said optimistically. “They’ll sit down and talk and not set fire to anything and it’ll be fine.”

Newt finally read the text Tina sent and gave the pair of them a chirpy wave, twisting round in his seat as he did so and facing exactly the wrong way to see Graves coming in the door.

Tina raised a hand, more in surrender than any attempt to wave back. “You sweet summer child,” she said to Queenie.

“Oh, shush. They can’t be that bad.”

Tina would have replied, except at that point Graves spotted them - well, spotted Queenie - and hurried over.

“Am I late? Did I miss it? Are they here?” He slid into the chair facing them, throwing his sunglasses haphazardly on the table and stealing Queenie’s drink. “Queenie, this is tea.”

“Get your own, then,” Queenie said, stealing it back. “Newt’s at the table by the window.”

Graves craned to look. “I don’t see him.”

“Under the table by the window,” Tina corrected. “He’s probably got lost down there. You should go rescue him.”

“Uh…”

“Oh - Graves, this is Tina, my sister. Tina, Graves.” Introductions done, Queenie shooed Graves towards the counter. “Coffee, date, go.”

Graves mock saluted, mumbled a distracted nice to meet you at Tina, and obediently trotted over to the counter. In the time it took Jacob to pour his coffee and hand it to him, Newt managed to drop something down the side of his chair and get himself stuck hanging over the arm trying to reach it.

Coffee in hand, Graves returned from the counter, awkwardly turned sideways to squeeze between two other customers, and aimed once again for Queenie.

“Is he ok?” he asked in a hushed whisper, depositing his coffee on the table and shooting concerned glances at the upside-down back of Newt’s head. He shuffled his chair round for a better view, decided that was entirely unsubtle, and shuffled it back.

Tina and Queenie stared at him. “Probably not,” Tina finally said.

“Why don’t you go and help him?” Queenie suggested.

Graves gave them both a funny look. “He’s on a date,” he said, slowly, as though they were the ones blatantly not getting the point. “A date which you set him up on.”

“A date which is so far going swimmingly,” Tina said. “Look at him, alone, dating the shit out of himself. Wouldn’t it be nice if he had someone to share his date with. What a thing that would be. Such a novel idea.”

Graves frowned. Opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Tried again. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” he said hesitantly. Queenie, your sister’s insane, he wanted to add, but he had neither the ninja-texting skills required to say it under the table nor the lack of self preservation required to say it out loud, so he kept it to himself.

Somewhere in the background the door chimed as someone pushed it open.

“He’ll be here soon?” Queenie asked. “Who’ll be here soon?”

“Theseus!” Newt greeted. Graves’ head whipped round.

“That bastard,” he growled, watching Theseus wave back and amble his way over to Newt. “He said he didn’t know who I was talking about!”

“He said what now,” Tina asked in the vaguely distracted way of someone watching a train wreck become inevitable.

“Theseus! He said he couldn’t think of anyone that he’d rescued recently and he didn’t have a clue about the date thing.” Graves waved an angrily expressive arm in Theseus’ vague direction. “Except he clearly recognises Newt which means he clearly knows who he rescued and, and - and romanced him when he rescued him.” He took a decisive slurp of coffee and glared. “Smooth motherfucker,” he grumbled. “Hasn’t even rolled his sleeves up.”

Tina and Queenie both just looked at him. Then at each other.

“Yours,” Tina said, pushing herself away from the table and heading up to the counter for a refill. And to commiserate with Jacob, who was pointing alternately at Newt and then at Graves and trying to indicate with the jerk of his head that Graves was at the wrong table.

Which he was. What Jacob expected either Goldstein to do about it, well, that was trickier.

“Graves,” Queenie started. “Graves, honey. Why is Theseus here.”

Graves frowned at her. “For the date. The one we set him up on. With Newt.”

“The one we - right. Yes. But why is Theseus here.”

Graves frowned harder and fished out his phone. “Thursday,” he said, showing Queenie the text she’d sent. “Three o’clock. Jacob’s.”

“Yes.”

“Your sister brought Newt.”

“She did.”

“And I brought Theseus.”

“Ok.” Queenie nodded. That was, indeed, a correct recounting of the facts. “But why.”

Graves threw his hands up in the air. “Because Newt’s in love with him, I don’t know. It was your text.”

Tina returned with two mugs of chocolate and Queenie gathered her forces and tried again. “Sweetie, you don’t recognise Newt at all?” she asked.

Graves obligingly squinted over at the window. Newt was sat with his back to them and saying something that required animated hand movements. Theseus had moved the coffee a safe distance away and was nodding along indulgently.

“No,” Graves decided. “But I’m out of contacts and the only glasses I could find were my sunglasses, so he’s kinda blurry. Should I recognise him?”

Queenie wordlessly fetched the sunglasses and handed them out to him. He made a face. “No one wears shades in a bakery. Even prescription ones. I can see fine.” To emphasise the point, he squirrelled them away in a pocket and beamed like he’d done the right thing.

“Tina,” Queenie asked faintly. “How do you cope?”

Tina solemnly passed over one of the mugs. “Marshmallows,” she said. “And Jacob put cinnamon in yours.”

“Cinnamon,” Queenie repeated. “How nice.”

There was a moment of shared silence as both sisters clutched their hot chocolates. Graves gave them an increasingly worried look.

“Everything ok?” he ventured hesitantly.

“Don’t you worry, sweetie,” Queenie told him and patted him on the hand. “Tomorrow’s another day. We’ll try again.”

Tina smiled encouragingly in the background. “Death before dishonour,” she added in a way that was probably meant to be comforting. Queenie nodded.

Graves stared at them both, glanced over at the counter where Jacob’s blurry figure had its arms crossed and was shaking its head in disappointment, and decided that the better part of valour was to just drink his coffee and not question.

Queenie’s sister was weird.

[hanatsuki89]

lace, winged eyeliner, and pastel

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?Yesterday night, with my beloved partners ❤❤winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.You are not “wrong”, don't listento what people say. Don't let their words poison you to the point ofhating your body and your mind.Enjoy the things you like to do,experience everything. Ending up with regrets because you feel thatyou're now too old for some of those things will be one of the worstfeelings in the world.I know it seems like you'll end upbreaking. Bullying, your father... it's not right.But trust mewhen I say that despite everything, you'll have the strenght to getup and get better. And one day you'll find out that you can be proudof yourself.pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?Definitely punk xDAsk me!