#so i started making dinner at 10 pm. and it took so goddamn long that i gave up at 11:45 and ate leftovers in the fridge

[holyviolence]

gaaaaaaah when will the suffering end..... i have been so miserable for like 2 weeks straight now. anyway i have to wake up at 8 am tomorrow im gonna kms. grug gonna do it for real.

[lokis-lovely-muse]

Watch Him

A/N: idk where this came from, but here it is <3

Word Count: 1,201

Summary: Tony asked you to stay at the compound to watch Loki

Genre: Fluff/ Angst if you squint

Warnings: Some swearing, implied smut

Disclaimer: Gif used is not mine

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

“I said no, Tony. Now fuck off”

That’s when Tony started whining, “Y/N please, it’s only for a few hours while I take Pepper and Morgan to New York for a little bit”

This had been going on for thirty minutes, you walking around the compound while Tony trailed after you like a lost puppy looking for its owner. 

“Tony I’m ninety percent sure that there are other people around to watch him. Although, I don't see why he needs a baby-sitter, he’s goddamn grown man”

It’s been like this for weeks, Tony or Steve asking one or more of the Avengers to watch him. Him being Thor’s brother, Loki. 

He can help fight the mad titan but he can’t be left alone in the compound for more than twenty minutes on his own. It’s stupid. 

You rolled your eyes, “I thought Peter was supposed to be watching him?”

“Peter’s with Cait, he won’t be back until later”.

Oh for fuck sake. 

“This is bullshit Tony, why can't Thor watch him? Or better yet, leave him here on his own. I’m sure he won't burn down your precious compound, or God forbid he uses all the milk”

“You know Thor’s in New Asgard helping Valkyrie adjust to helping their people”. He kept fidgeting and looking at his watch, he was getting impatient, you could see it in his eyes.

“Okay fine, i’ll watch him”

“Thank you Y/N you’re the best, I owe you”, and with that he ran up the stairs and within 10 minutes he had left with Morgan and Pepper. 

“Yes, you do”, you muttered to yourself. 

--------------

The Brooklyn Nine-Nine theme song played again for the eighth time in a row. 

Loki was reading quietly at the breakfast bar when suddenly, he spoke to you for the first time in 3 hours, "I’m sorry, I can’t be quiet anymore. Would you please turn that monstrosity down?”

“Oh, so now you’re speaking to me?” you didn’t mean to sound rude, but honestly, you were extremely tired and Tony made it clear that you were to keep an eye on him at all times. 

“Yes, as much as i hate making conversation with you. Now, will you please turn it down?” he replied in a smooth monotonous voice, same as always. 

“Of course, many apologies, your majesty”

“Pathetic mortal”

What a dick.

--------------

You checked your phone. 5.22 pm, Tony was supposed to be back an hour ago. You decided to text Pepper to see what was going on. 

‘Hey Pepper, I just wanted to see what was keeping you so long’

‘Hey sweetie, I’m really sorry, but the traffic out of New York is at a standstill. We won’t be back for another 3-4 hours’

Typical. 

‘Okay, no worries.’

You decided to get up and start dinner for the both of you, the problem was, you rarely spoke to the man, so you didn’t know what he liked to eat.

“Loki, what would you like for dinner?” You asked in a bored tone. 

He ignored you. Was he being petty? Or could he not hear you on that high horse of his. You trudged into the living room, feet dragging against the floorboards. “Loki, I asked you a question, what would you like for dinner?”

He looked up from his book for the first time in what felt like hours, which it probably was “Oh, is that what it was? I thought it was just a shrill voice sent by Satan himself” He smirked. 

Oh, so he thought this was funny. 

You decided to let it slide, take a deep breath and go back into the kitchen and just throw some frozen pizza in the oven. 

“I’m just going to get a jumper, you just stay here and um… read". Not even so much as a glance from the book he was still reading. 

---------

“Must you breathe so loudly?”

That’s when you snapped. “Okay, what is your problem?”

“I don’t understand-”

You didn’t let him finish, “No. You’re going to listen to me and be quiet. What is your problem with me? I know I don't treat you like the prince you’ve always been, but I try to show you some decency and you just throw it back in my face. I just wanna know what it was that I did wrong. Just… why do you hate me?” You fell back on the couch and pushed your plate away, you weren't hungry anymore. 

Loki’s face softened as he got up from his space at the table and slowly made his way over to you. He thought you would’ve noticed him, however, that theory was quickly dismissed when you jumped as Loki gingerly sat down on the edge of the couch. 

“Y/N… it was never my intention to make you believe that I hated you, and I sincerely apologize if I have made you think that I do’ he paused before carrying on ‘I just assumed that you were like all the other avengers, so my first instinct was to push you away so i wouldn’t have to find out for myself. I truly am sorry’ he hesitantly waited for your reply. 

He focused on you, and he noticed the slight wobble of your jaw and he wondered to himself if he had made you cry, and he felt guilty for it. “Y/N I-”

You threw your arms around him before he could finish and you were surprised to find out that he embraced you back, tighter than when you had first placed your arms around his frame. It felt like absolute bliss, you had only recognised your feelings for the God of Mischief in the last two weeks, but boy, have those weeks been hell. It felt amazing to finally hug him and know that he willingly hugged you back. 

“Loki I have to tell you something before I forget”

Loki pulled back from the hug and you immediately missed his warmth on your body, “What is it, darling?”

Darling. Fuck, you had to tell him. 

“Loki, I um, I like you- and not just as friends-” before you were able to finish your sentence, you were quickly shut up when you felt a pair of soft lips on your own. 

Loki’s lips. 

It took you a second to realise what was happening, but when you did, you instantly melted into the kiss. It felt like a million fireworks had just exploded and everything felt like it was finally perfect. Your hands tangled in his black locks and you pulled his head back expecting to see some form of regret on his face, however, all you were met with was him smiling; a big dopey grin on his face. “Y/N, I like you too” and then he was kissing you again. 

“Um, are we interrupting something?” Peter looked mortified. 

Loki pulled away and pulled you up from your position on the couch “Yes, actually you were. Care to take this elsewhere, darling?”

You couldn’t form words so you just looked into those beautiful blue eyes and nodded, you also thanked Tony for leaving you alone with Loki.  

~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading! :)

[another-fantasy-world]

hi could you please make another alice cullen x fem!reader?? i really really love your last one you made, it was so beautiful <3

||AN|| Thank youuu! I'm happy you enjoyed my last one, also, thank you for requesting!

 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Alice Cullen x Fem! Reader

Summary: Alice with a human girlfriend who’s more vampire-like than her.

Warnings: None? Fluff. Happy Couple.

Word Count: 2,084 words

GIF isn’t mine

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were always the night owl, lived off coffee and good books and you only wear dark colors. Your routine includes waking up at 10 pm, Cooking and eating your dinner at approximately 11:30 pm, Studying until 6 am, Taking a shower, Make your coffee, and be at school at 7:00 am where you meet up with you too-bright-and-jolly girlfriend, Alice Cullen. After school you then either head home to your own house, or to the Cullens household, either way you crash into anything soft and just ultimately pass out, and your cycle repeats. Sometimes your girlfriend would join you in studying even if she didn’t need it, Sometimes you’d do other things with your girlfriend, some of the things you do aren’t appropriate for a house full of vampires with super hearing, and not to mention her nosy brother who had the ability to read minds. 

“Get out of the way before I pummel you to the ground asshole.” You grumbled to the guy who’s blocking your way and was staring at your girlfriend like she’s a piece of meat. You hated that but you couldn’t do anything. One, pretty sure it’s illegal to kill someone even if you’re thinking about all the ways you could and Two, you miss you girlfriend’s cold hand holding yours.

You see him shiver before grabbing his things and scrambling away, his goons hot on his tail. 

“You have the most creative mind I have ever come across. Really? Using his blood as paint after you use gamma rays to blow up his uhm. Yeah. Where would you even get gamma rays?” Edward scrunches his face as they all approach you.

“Pretty sure Carlisle would hook me up with some.” You smirked then kissed your girlfriend’s forehead, You held her hand in yours as she giggled, getting out of her trance like state.

“Carlisle denied.” She kissed your cheek before dragging you inside the school, where they all separated like the goddamn sea in that one bible story.

Safe to say, you were pretty feared in the whole town. Socially isolated, always has a cup of coffee in hand, dark marks under your eyes, a blank looks often settles on your face,always had earphones in, glared at people who made your family uncomfortable, scared people without trying and a student could’ve sworn he saw you drink someones blood which he says was inside your coffee cup. It was beetroot juice since you ran out of coffee but needed something hot to drink, so you made beetroot juice, with lots and lots of sugar. You were dubbed as a vampire or a witch, which was hilarious considering your girlfriend is a vampire. A bright, happy, sparkling vampire who doesn’t sleep in coffins whatsoever. 

“Have a good day baby, see you at lunch.” Alice kissed your cheek before bouncing in her classroom followed by Emmett who winked at you and Rosalie who raised her brows at you and told you to behave.

“I always behave!” You argued with a small pout on your lips, barely noticeable but Rosalie just smirks before walking gracefully into the room, sitting in between Emmett and Alice who just shooed you away. 

“It’s never a good day.” you whispered while walking away, fully knowing that they could hear you.

Lunch came so slow that by the time you sat at your usual spot, you already had thoughts on murdering your history teacher who ‘unintentionally’ spat at your face and drizzled her spit on your face like a waterfall.

“It’s only been half a day Y/LN, You’ll get through it.” Rosalie slides her tray of food over to you while petting your head.

“i don’t understand why you choose to go through this over and over again.” You groaned, laying your head on Alice’s shoulder. They just laughed and proceeded to talk about things that you don’t even bother to listen to.

“You’re coming over today right?” Alice asked you with that bell like voice that you so loved

“Hmm? Oh yeah, Cuddles?” You whispered to her, internally groaning at how soft you’ve become for your girlfriend. 

“Yes please. You’re warm.”

“And you are freezing cold.” You retorted, stealing some of her fries

“It comes with the package. Now come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” She pats you head while moving away, packing her things. Which low-key made you whine.

“But I always escort you to your room.” You complained

“That’s true, but I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to change.” She smiled, offering her hand which you took.

“Edward?” 

“Nope. Not telling you. I am not going on another shopping spree with that little devil of yours.” He sped walked away, dragging Bella with him

“I think you traumatized him real bad, Ali.” You chuckled

“Good.” She exclaimed

12 midnight, and you just woke up to Alice holding you while reading a book, She smiles at you before tapping her lips, asking for a kiss. You shook your head no, trying to get out of her arms to brush your teeth.

“Nope, kisses first before brushing.” She grips you tighter

“Eww. Morning breath. Alice please!” She just grins before showering your face with kisses.

“There. You can go now, Esme just finished your dinner.” She beamed at you, pushing you into the large bathroom that she has before sitting on the sink.

“Uhm...” You stare at her, confused

“What?” 

The both of you took an hour long shower, you didn’t even need to shower, Alice just persuaded you into doing so. Earning you different looks from different vampires the moment you walked down the stairs.

A suggestive smirk from Rosalie and a laughing Emmett A smirking Jasper A confused Bella with a disgusted looking Edward A smiling Esme holding a bowl of food  And lastly, A laughing Carlisle.

“Oh my God.” You groaned, walking to the dining room, thanking Esme for the food. 

“Really Y/N?” complained Edward who’s cuddling a still confused Bella

“What? Just because you decide to wait until marriage does not mean I have to.” You smirked, winking at Edward who would be blushing if he was human.

“Don’t talk while your mouth is full.” Scolded Esme who’s also trying to keep her laugh in

“Yes Mom. Anyways, Bella I love you, but you look like you’re about to shut down and ready to be pawned like an old computer.” You told her, biting into a chicken leg

“i’ll take her home.” Edward says, grabbing his keys and waits for Bella.

“Why is she here anyways” Grumbled Rosalie, who everyone ignored while you just tapped her head

“Let’s play chess when you get back!” You shouted after him

You finish your food quickly and washed your plates, much to the distaste of Esme, leading your giggling short girlfriend to the couch beside Jasper.

“Jasper~ Wanna watch documentaries of wars and judge everything they did wrong?” You ask Jasper who’s nodding at your request. Alice plopping herself on your lap as she stares at you laughing and smiling with her family.

She’s really happy to have found you the way she did, She reminisced the time when the two of you first met. You were browsing racks and racks of clothes, taking black colored blouses, shirts and button-ups that are your size before walking into a dressing room. While you were in the room, she started to have a vision about the two of you together, having dates and you carrying her shopping bags in this same store, making her all giddy. She was with Rosalie at that time, who just stared at her with a look of slight confusion as she basically bounced to you. You at first was taken aback that someone was actually talking to you, and it was a cute girl at that. Alice greeted you with a smile and a hello before handing you a green blazer and tie, telling you emerald green compliments your eyes and outfit before paying for what you were buying, writing her name and number on the receipt, leaving you dumbfounded at the store

At first she thought that the both of you wouldn’t work out, especially because of all the chaos that recently happened to her family and leaving forks. But you made the effort of always texting her little notes and telling her how your day was, even if she didn’t reply, slowly she felt herself fall more in love with you, letting herself reply and indulge in the visions that she had that involved you. Once she told her family about you, they were a bit skeptical, especially since Carlisle tended to your knuckle wounds one too many times. But upon seeing the love sick look on both your eyes and the loud complaining of Edward at how sickeningly cute your thoughts were of each other, they eventually accepted you as one of their own despite being human. 

And now she stares in awe as you spent about 2 hours criticizing documentaries with Jasper before Edward comes home, and when he did, you played a couple rounds of chess (You always lost, which made Edward laugh every time.) before she decided that she’s bored with you losing to her brother every round and just decided to pick you up and dash to her room. 

“What was that for love?” You ask her when she settled herself in your arms

“I just. I was bored and I realized that it’s been too long since we cuddled.”

“It’s literally been 4 hours since I woke up bumblebee.” You ran your hand through her hair

“I missed you. 4 hours is too long.”

“Awe. I missed you too. Want to pick up where we left off on How to Kill a Mockingbird?” You ask her

“Yes please, I love hearing your voice.” She puts her face on the crook of your neck as you read to her, one of your hand intertwined with hers.

Even though she can’t fall asleep anymore, she loves the way your voice sounds, it calms her down and she could easily compare the “peace” she feels right now to the “peace” she could remember feeling when she was asleep. She really did love you and she doesn’t hesitate to let you know. In multiple various ways. 

Like now, she cut off your reading when her soft lips touched yours. You immediately let go of the book to hold her face lovingly as you put all your feelings into the kiss like you always do. You always felt like your words are never enough, so you always try to express your feeling through physical affection.

As if remembering you need your air, she slowly pulls away, her forehead touching yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you” she whispers, kissing your nose

“I love you too.” You smiled, pecking her lips

Your moment was then ruined when Emmett started banging his fists on the door, loudly exclaiming that you all have to get ready for school. You growled lowly, rolling your eyes.

“Alright! Geez.” You grumpily picked up the book that was tossed to the floor before walking to Alice’s closet where you also keep some of your clothes in...

Only to see that they weren’t there.

“Uhm Alice? Darling? Where are my clothes?” You ask her

She walks to where you are, peeking in slightly before pecking your lips.

“Oops. Accidentally sent all them to your house. Guess you have to wear my clothes then.” She smirked at you, pulling out a lemon yellow trench coat, a rosy pink turtleneck and hot pink pants with a blue belt.

“Baby, Alice. Love. Darling. Bumblebee. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded but she just shook her head, handing you the clothes before threatening you with no kisses and cuddles for a week if you refuse.

Your shoulders sag with defeat as you change into the clothes Alice gave you, pouting while walking down the stairs of the Cullen Household. Alice smiles brightly as she hooked her arm around yours. Chuckles and giggles erupted the moment they saw you which made you grumble and murmur underneath your breath as you sip your cup of coffee made by Esme.

“You-” 

“Not a word.” You growled out, blushing furiously as you laughing girlfriend holds your hand while walking through the halls of Forks High school. 

Your girlfriend can be annoying at times, add that to her chaotic family, but you would never trade it for anything. Ever.

[hyunjilicious]

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ Christmas Edition [bucky barnes]

Summary: it’s pretty self explanatory, I guess. (FLUFF) 1.6k

Warnings: absolutely none, just Bucky being cute, awkward and madly in love with you!!

-

In 2018, you were in Namibia, hunting down an American terrorist that had been on the run for the better part of the year. In 2019, the avengers were scattered around the globe, executing a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of mission that ended long after the new year began. But this year, all of your friends were home. For the first time in years, the Stark Tower was shining from top to bottom with Christmas lights, carols echoing down all of its long, secluded hallways. It was the first time you'd get to actually spend the night of 24th of December with your true family. That is, if you made it in time. Back on December 19th, you and Bucky got stuck in the depths of Louisiana, with absolutely no means of communication, let alone transportation. You decided to make the best out of the situation and turn it into a road trip, but time flew by so much faster than expected, that it was now 2:13 pm on Christmas eve, and you and Bucky were sprinting down the snow covered empty highways of the east coast, dead set on making it home in time. He wasn't that eager to get back and tried to get you to rent a hotel room and spend the night alone, but you weren't having it. He huffed and puffed about not giving a shit about Christmas, but it was the first one he could celebrate with people that loved him, in over 70 years. With every motel that you passed, he'd turn and look at you from the passenger seat, begging you to stop. You didn't even consider it. You wanted him to have the full Christmas experience. A storm was brewing and you were whiteknuckling the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to yawn for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. After driving for 7 hours straight, you were close to passing out, but nowhere near ready to give up. "Pull over, love" he smiled, grabbing your thigh, "Let me drive. I'll wake you up when we arrive"

-

And of course Bucky refused to decorate. You spent the better half of the day rummaging through boxes and looking up diy tutorials on the Internet, doing your absolute best to make your bedroom as cozy and Christmasy as possible. Candles were scattered all over the furniture, their soft light and delicate cinnamon scent filling up the room, a small Santa Claus figurine was sitting neatly by the window, garlands dripped from every corner and your Christmas playlist was on shuffle for probably the 4th time that day. As you kept busy, lowkey exasperated whenever one ornament didn't fit in as planned, Bucky laid on the bed, making nasty comments with every chance he got. He complained about the music, said the room was too hot, that the candles made his nose feel funny and not for a second did he stop begging you to drop the fucking decorating and join him in bed. You didn't wanna hear it. You kept going, bringing in box after box of ornaments, each one making Bucky more and more frustrated.

"Buck!" you whined, turning around in your hands a little remote controlled reindeer. "His leg is stuck... he keeps falling"

"Throw it into the trash" he scoffed, plopping down on his back and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Of course you didn't listen to him. "No..." you mumbled, more to yourself. You sounded like a child, but you didn't care. Instead, you just sat down on the edge of the bed, all your attention focused on the broken toy in your hands, "I'll fix it somehow"

"Just throw the goddamned thing away, Y/n" he groaned, "Only on my nightstand there are other 3. We got enough"

You just shook your head, focused on getting the reindeer to walk again. It was no use. You got no utensils and your nails were threatening to break as you kept trying to open up his battery container. 5 minutes of painful silence followed, ending with you finally giving up, "I'll just put something under his leg and use it as a decoration" you whimpered, legitimately heartbroken over the toy.

"Fuck, just come here. Give it to me. I'll fix the damn thing for you"

Your heart swelled up, "Really?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed, grabbing a screwdriver out of his nightstand and picking up the toy. "Master assassin and I'm fixing toys" he mumbled under his breath and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

-

Your version of paradise started just when you arrived at the tower on Christmas Eve. Bucky did as promised and then offered you a weak smile, full of warmth as he helped you out of the car when he parked in front of the Tower. You were beaming with excitement for the days that were to come. When the next morning arrived, you were sipping your coffee on the balcony, waiting for everyone to wake up so that you could all start unwrapping the presents. When the door opened you didn't expect Bucky to come out, as he never - ever, failed to sleep until noon, if given the chance. But there he was, wrapped in one of your comfy blankets, padding over to you with a coffee mug in his hand. When he reached you, he opened his arms and welcomed you against his chest, closing his hold around your body and engulfing you in the warmth of the blanket. It didn't take long until you noticed the little paper bag lodged under the elastic of his sweats, and when you asked about it, he cursed himself for ruining the surprise. He handed you the bag, and urged you to open it, insisting that it wasn't your present. When you did, your eyes landed on a knitted bunny clutching a heart to its chest. "An old lady was selling these a few weeks ago at a boutique I saw while waiting for you to meet me. I know you love to call me Bucky Bunny because you know how much I hate it. I forgot about it and came across it this morning at the bottom of my bag while searching for my charger. Now I think its stupid, a dumb rabbit and his eyes are a little bit fucked up, but he's cute and it reminded me of you, so here you go"

-

As much love as some of you had for the holiday, it still wasn't enough to convince the whole group to actually watch a Christmas movie. So, in true avenger spirit, you all decided to watch Terminator. After finishing dinner, you all scattered around the Tower. Some people left to change in more comfortable clothes, some helped clean up the kitchen, and some, like Bucky and Thor, remained in the living room, plopped in the middle of the couch, fangirling over Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting and the great sense of humour of the 90s. Eventually everyone gathered around them, you and Wanda being the last ones to show up. She cuddled against Vision's side, but Bucky was lodged in between Thor and Steve, and there was no way you'd ever ask any of them to move. Seeing you eye an open spot, Bucky waved you over as he stood up. "Here, take my seat". You wanted to object but he didn't want to hear it. Eventually, you sat down, and so did he, on the floor, right in front of you. Nonchalantly, Bucky pulled your legs apart and settled between them, with his back against the couch. He gathered your Christmas themed sock clad feet into his lap and rested his head against your knee as the movie began.

-

And like any other Christmas dinner, of course yours wasn't an exception. Natasha's recipe for apple pie was by definition the best that ever blessed the earth and none of the attendees was any stranger to that. Considering how many of you there were, as you made a point of spending the end of the year together, 2 batches had to be made. It was hectic, everyone fuzzing around the Tower, preparations on tow the whole day. And of course there would be repercussions for the chaotic atmosphere, but you'd only find out about them later. After burning through the first meal courses of the evening, it was finally time for her sweet delicacy to grace the table. Natasha neatly placed the two pies on either end of the table, proudly announcing you could all dig in. Bucky was seated to your right, and he unlike you, managed to grab a piece of pie from the first batch. You didn't think too much of it, until you started eating yours, only to realise the bottom was burned. Despite all of you trying to assure Natasha that it was not her fault and that she shouldn't beat herself up about it, she promised she'd make another one tomorrow. The night carried on as planned, but no matter how much you tried to push away the thought, you couldn't help but feel bitter about missing out on the good pie. Just when you were about to come to your senses and realise what a dumb reason for you to get upset that was, Bucky sent you text, asking you to come to the bedroom. Curious as to what this could have been about, you hurried upstairs and burst into the room, nearly crashing into Bucky's chest. He slammed the door behind you and handed you his plate - his slice of pie only halfway eaten. "I saved you a piece. These are jackals, I had to hide it. Dig in before anyone comes!"

-

On December 27th the buzz was starting to die down. When you put up the lights in your bedroom, Bucky said they could stay on for two days and two days only, and you reluctantly agreed to make a compromise. Just this time. The time to turn them off came last night, and since he offered to let them on until the morning, you felt like an unreasonable little shit if you were to ask him to turn them on again. It was about 7pm and you were two seasons deep in The X Files, and Wanda asked for your help. Bucky pulled out his phone and assured you he wouldn't watch ahead until you got back. It took you about 30 to help your friend with her problem, and when you returned to your room, confusion washed over you. The Christmas lights were on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck" he grunted.

You turned around to see him behind you, standing in the doorway, two cocoa mugs in his hands, "I made these cause I know you like them. And I wanted to surprise you with the lights but vision is a dumbass and forgot to text me and tell me when you were almost done"

"So she didn't actually need help folding the bed sheets?" you laughed, endeared by his antics.

"Of course she didn't" Bucky shook his head, handing you one of the mugs, "She's not an imbecile"

"Oh my god" you giggled in disbelief as you sat down on the bed.

"I'll squirt shit nuggets out of my ass for two days, so please tell me at least I got the recipe right" 

He was so adorable, anxiously waiting for you to taste the cocoa he just made. "It's so good!" you rolled your eyes in pleasure, taking another sip, "Thank you, you're too sweet, Buck"

"Yeah, I know-" he chuckled, grabbing the mug from your palm and placing it on the nightstand. "I got one more present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands"

"No, Buck-" you whined, "I didn't get you anything else-"

He dismissed your words in an instant and kissed your lips, before guiding your hands up. You opened them up and closed your eyes, curious about what he could have gotten you. First, you heard him shuffle around the bed, and then you felt something rather itchy touch your palms. You nearly burst into laughter when you realised it was his chin.

"Ok, open your eyes"

And as you did so, your eyes landed on Bucky's face, as he had placed his head on your hands. He was wearing a tiara with reindeer ears, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're my present?" you beamed, throwing yourself against his chest.

"My face is the present-" he corrected you. "Guess what it does. Take your leggings off and you'll find out"

[beautifulbuckys]

Glass of Water

Word Count: 1,400+

Warnings: horrible pickup lines, some suggestive stuff, fluff

A/N: I’m super duper proud of this so please don’t let it flop!!

Bucky was a blusher. He blushed at anything. A dirty joke Sam made after a workout? He a rose tint appear on his cheeks. Natasha accidentally grabs his bicep to move him when reaching for the peanut butter?  A wave of crimson engulfed his face. Nobody ever gave him a hard time about it. He was in a new world, he had to adapt to all sorts of innovative and unique things. Everyone was a lot more forward these days. Tampon commercials played on the massive TV Tony bought constantly. Ads promoting the freshest condoms were the usual now.

The most awkward, however, was this modern method of flirting. All Bucky had to do back in the day was wink and call a lady 'doll' and he had them at his feet. Now there are pick-up lines, and a majority of them are cheesy and unoriginal. Some are just straight out suggestive and revolting. You treat a lady with admiration, not as an object, that's what Ma and Mrs Rogers continuously told him. He still followed those rules, even in these modern times.  He treated Natasha, Wanda, Hope and Carol with the respect they deserved, they didn't have to gain it.

When you moved into the compound, he freaked out a little bit. He liked meeting all the powerful women of this generation, you were just an addition to the roster. He shook your hand and introduced himself, and you did the same.

"Hey, welcome to the compound!" Bucky said through a wide smile, offering his hand for a polite handshake. "I'm Bucky, nice to meet you,"

"Hi! Nice to meet you Bucky, I'm Y/N," You replied, reciprocating his bright smile.

"Y/N is a beautiful name!" He replied. He's not typically this bold, in fact, he's still getting used to how forward these times were.

You winked. "I guarantee you it's not the only beautiful thing about me."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. You smirked and walked away, leaving Bucky alone in his shock. Bucky looked to his right, he was standing in the kitchen, and now he can see his reflection in the fridge. He was blushing.

It's been six months since you moved in, and Bucky thought you'd adapted well. The team loved you. They constantly laughed at your jokes and supported you in your tough times. Bucky did too, he enjoyed your company. You were a nice breath of fresh air, you had a different personality than the others. You weren't as shy as Steve, you talked to everyone and never ceased sharing what was on your mind. You weren't as reserved as Wanda. You were open about your struggled and what you might need assistance with. You weren't as egotistical as Tony. You were down to Earth, yet your head always seemed to be in the clouds. You were different from everyone, yet ridiculously comparable to Carol. You'd always be with her. Sometimes, at 10 PM Bucky would hear Carol giggling 'Y/N! Stop!' from the kitchen. Hearing you having fun made him smile.

The team soon discovered what made you smile. You grinned at a lot, granted. You smile at cute dog videos, you smile at Carol, you smile when Peter asked you for help with math work, but your all-time favourite task? Making Bucky blush.

You caught him alone in the gym once. Now was a perfect time to catch him by surprise.

He was lifting 200-pound weights, sweat dripping down his toned arms. You took a quick glance at his shirtless figure, before striking your prey.

"Easy there, tiger," You laughed, "wanna save that stamina for a different workout?" You winked.

His sweat ridden cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, blinking a few times in surprise. Why of all times did it have to be now?

"G-Good to see you too, Y/N" we nervously chuckled.

Another time, he was too in his head while making a sandwich. He was quietly humming a tune you've heard on the radio, you were too occupied to pinpoint it. You sat at the island across from where Bucky was standing.

He smiled once he noticed your company.

"Hey Y/N, how's it goin'?"

"Pretty well, Scott kicked my ass during training today," You sighed, lifting your arm to show the large bruise that covered almost all of your bicep.

"Holy shit, Y/N, musta' been snoozin'," He said, biting into his sandwich.

You nodded.

"Does that sandwich taste as good as me, Barnes?" You asked, standing up with a smirk.

He blushed, a rose pink tint rearing its head. He smiled, your comments made him blush, sure, but you made them funny. If they were from anyone else, they'd be cheesy and dumb. But they were from you.

He watched you leave the room with that famous cocky smirk. It's become your trademark around the compound. You do something your happy with? That smirk appears and makes sure everyone knows it. It was cute, but Bucky had to get you back.

The Avengers may not give Bucky a hard time for blushing. But they sure as hell give you a difficult time for making him blush at any given moment.

"Hey Y/N?" Sam asked one day while laying on the couch reading his copy of Men's Health Magazine. You sighed, sitting up from the rug beside the couch.

"Yes, Sammy?"

"You're always 'tryna make RoboCop blush, gotta reason for it?" Sam questioned.

You smirked. He always wanted to bring this topic up, It's almost like he was trying to make you embarrassed about the little game you play with yourself. "Some things are best left unknown, bird brain."

He groaned in acknowledgement. That's the answer you always gave him. It was basically rehearsed in your head at this point. The second you heard the word 'blush', the sentence was queued up in your brain.

Perhaps one day they'd find out that you make him blush so he can't do it to you.

It was team dinner night, tonight. Usually, everyone ate separately. About a month after your arrival, Bruce requested a team dinner night once a week. He declared he didn't care about the rest of the week, he just wanted this one day. Everyone obliged to the request and designated Wednesdays as this little activity. Tonight, Clint made potstickers, which was a favourite of yours. They were always so savoury and crispy, like heaven in your mouth.

You settled your plate on the emerald green table cloth in front of you. Sitting down, you heard small murmurs of conversations. Carol, who was on your left, was chatting with Peter about old music. Thor, on your right, was chuckling with Natasha about Clint tumbling down the stairs earlier in the day. You overheard a clink at the head of the table, it was Hope. She did this every dinner, so you were curious what this week's message was.

"Make sure everyone says thank you to Clint tonight, he slaved over the stove for a while. Who knew birds could cook?" Hope recommended.

Everyone at the table laughed, starting to dig into the food Clint expertly prepared. The silence, except for the occasional crunch from the potstickers, was comfortable. People would exchange stories about their day in-between bites. It was loud enough to drown out the stunt Bucky was about to pull.

"Y/N," Bucky whispered, he was opposite the table from you, so it was easier to hear.

You looked up at him mid-bite. These potstickers were just so goddamn good.

"Those potstickers taste as good as me, sweetheart?" Bucky smiled. He hated being this forward, but he also loved it. He almost laughed at how pale you became.

You chocked on your potsticker. Everyone heard the muffled cough and glanced in your direction, panic self-evident in all their eyes.

"You okay, Y/N?" Carol questioned.

You nodded in response, but it was all a lie. You were not okay. Where the hell did that come from?!

"Go get a glass of water," Steve suggested, getting up and pulling out your chair for you.

You practically ran to the kitchen. You whipped out your phone and got to typing.

You were gone for 5 minutes, and Bucky was starting to worry. Drinking a glass of water didn't take this long. Nobody else noticed your suspicious absence, and if they did, they chose to ignore it.

Then Bucky's phone rang-

Dollface: Meet me in your room. Now.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “The Server Room, Part I”

Summary: Elliot is locked in the server room by a few of his colleagues to stop him from ruining their Memorial Day weekend. Y/N, Elliot’s manager, finds him and comes up with a solution to fix the broken servers, but because of Elliot’s injuries and his refusal to go to a hospital, Y/N makes him stay at her place for the long weekend. As Elliot and Y/N bond for the first time outside of work, something a little more than friendship starts to emerge.

Summary/Mood Board

Word Count: 5800

Disclaimer: I know 0 things about technology and want to cry real tears for making my narrator Elliot’s boss. I sincerely apologize to anyone I offend for my whack tech references--please let me know if you need me to fix something because it’s awful and I will credit you for saving me some embarrassment!

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @thingsfandom @limabein @lovie-rami @txmel @hopplessdreamer @ouatlovr

Warnings: Physical injuries/blood, language, **=heavily paraphrased from a monologue on Robot

Author’s Note: I won’t be able to update this story as quickly as Remnants because my life is about to get crazy busy. However, I will do my best so y’all don’t lose interest : ) Special shoutout to @alottanothing for helping me get this story organized and underway! Thanks for being my cheerleader 💕

For fuck’s sake! I thought as I changed out of my swimsuit and into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, shoving my still wet feet into a pair of sandals.  

I had made it to my family’s place for Memorial Day weekend for the first time in years only to be called back to work because something happened to the servers. My boss, Miles, was out of town like everyone else in the goddamn city, and he trusted me as the Senior Manager to handle the situation.

CIStech Cybersecurity had been my life for the past four years. Starting as an Analyst really fostered my affinity for data and subsequently put me on the fast-track to become management. I liked working hard, and when I first started at CIStech, I would be mystified when I realized it was 10 pm, everyone had gone home, and I had skipped dinner (again) because I was 5,000 clicks deep into testing a contingency plan I created for scenario 11/1,000 in the event of a security breach.

My relationship with my job was complex--I knew I worked too much, but I needed those long days to help quell my anxiety; data gave me a focus and helped me make sense of a world that seemed to be drifting further and further into shades of grey, a place where evil and good barely served as separate entities anymore.

This long weekend was an important test for me—I needed to prove to myself that I could step away from the office and the world wouldn’t end, nor would my mental stability. 

Except that I did step away from the office and the world did end—sort of. So much for convincing my brain that taking time off was a good thing.

For the first three quarters of the drive into the city, I had gone over about 30 scenarios in my mind and just as I was about to drive myself crazy, I shook my head and cranked up the music. There was only so much I could mentally prep for until I knew whether the problem was physical or within the network.

Because everyone in the city had fled to escape the rising humidity, I was able to park on a side street about a half of a block from work. I swiped my badge to get into the lobby of CNC Precision Machining, our host company, then said a quick hello to the head of night security, Lance. I swiped my badge again to activate the elevator, and as I rode up to the 18th floor, my anxiety curled into a lead ball and made itself at home in my stomach. Something did not feel right, and I almost, almost went back downstairs to ask Lance to radio a guard.

But, how often do we actually act on our anxiousness? For me, I had to talk myself out of so many horrors a day that I always felt silly when I gave in to whatever idea had made itself at home in my mind.

I talked myself down, thinking, It’s almost 11 pm, and all I have to do is check the servers. Maybe one of the fans broke. Maybe a plug fell out. I can fix it and still get back to Mom and Dad’s by 2.

Once again, I swiped my badge. I entered CIStech’s wing, but as I opened the door to the cybersecurity offices and turned to deactivate the alarm, I saw it had never been set. My mouth fell open, and again the idea of turning back flitted through my mind, except being pissed overtook my apprehension.  

Whoever was the last to leave was getting a letter of reprimand. Sure, the building itself was secure, but to not set the alarm in a company’s tech security office? Inexcusable.

Since I was now fuming, the unset alarm compounding with my ire over my ruined start to the weekend, I grumbled away my nagging thoughts as I quickly walked to the server room, swiped my badge and scanned my fingerprint to open the door.

The harsh lights were on an automatic switch, so they popped to life as I stepped a few inches into the room; however, the crunch of plastic and the popping of glass made me stop, one foot poised in the air as I looked down to see what I stepped on.

The remnants of a server, or more than one server, were littered across the ground, and as I scanned for the source of the damage, the last thing I expected to find was a body. Immediately, my mind wondered if this was a trap, and then I wondered if the body was even alive.

My voice emitted a sort of strangled groan which caused the body on the floor to move—and when I saw that it wasn’t just a random body, my heart sank.

It was Elliot, my employee and my friend. 

***Eight Months Ago***

“Next up is Elliot Alderson. Recent grad. Bachelor’s in Computer Engineering from Stevens Institute of Tech. This is the guy with the impressive skill set, knowledgeable in everything we use. His portfolio backs it up, too.”

“Mmm, I remember reading through it and thinking if even half of it is legit, he’s smarter than everyone in that room put together,” Colin said, gesturing in the direction of the office floor.

“I tested his work on the headless Raspberry PI he sent with his portfolio—worked like a charm.”

“That could save us a lot of headaches,” JaLeah said, clicking through the description in Elliot’s portfolio again.

“Did you notice how streamlined his portfolio is? It’s masterfully organized and aesthetically pleasing,” I said, leaning over to look at JaLeah’s screen.

She hummed in agreement.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please,” I said as I pressed the button on the wireless intercom.

At CIStech, we strived to maintain a comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a panel of interviewers, it was just myself and my two Supervisors. Instead of interviewing in our board room, we interviewed in my office, the three of us seated at a round table so when the applicant joined us, they felt less on-the-spot.

However, when Elliot Alderson walked in the room, his unease was so palpable I doubted anything would alleviate his nervousness.

“Mr. Alderson,” Colin began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Elliot paused long enough for me to give him a onceover, and peripherally, I saw JaLeah do the same.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager,” I said, shaking Elliot’s hand, his grip light as if the last thing he wanted to do in the world was touch me.

As JaLeah introduced herself, I took another quick inventory of Elliot Alderson. He was dressed well, although in clothes that were a bit too big on his small frame. His haircut, however, was immaculate, cut in a close fade on the sides with a mop of styled black hair on top.

His big, greyish eyes were moving around the room as if he were searching for the exit; and then, suddenly they stopped. It was like he reminded himself to pick a spot and focus.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” JaLeah said, sliding over the piece of paper that listed our interview questions.

As Elliot pulled out the chair and settled in, I explained what would happen during the interview, the goal to once again ease the nerves of the applicant. 

“So, Mr. Alderson, I’m going to explain the process for this interview. First, we will give you a few minutes to read over the questions on the paper in front of you. When you are ready, let us know and we will take turns asking those questions. Once the Q&A portion is complete, we will connect our laptops to the one right here via RDP, and we will ask you to complete a specific task. Any questions so far?”

Elliot shook his head no.

“Excellent. Please take a few minutes to read over the questions, feel free to jot down notes in the spaces provided, then let us know when you are ready to begin,” I explained, ending with a smile.

Elliot did not return my smile; instead, his eyes dropped to the interview questions. As I watched him scan the paper, I had to remind myself not to stare. There was something about him that drew me in. His eyes were unlike any I had ever seen, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn, overquoted line from one of Walt Whitman’s poems: “I contain multitudes.”

Looking at Elliot, it was clear he contained depths, and I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. I could count on one hand the number of times I felt so immediately intrigued by another person.

After a minute or two, Elliot looked up, his eyes flickering between the three of us, and said, “Okay.”

Colin began, asking Elliot to tell us about his schooling and his professional experience.

Elliot answered carefully, reciting his academic and professional history. His voice was deep, a soothing monotone that was more like a raspy rattle than a melodious note.

“Thank you,” I said once he had finished speaking. “Question two asks about the steps you would take to secure a server. Walk us through that process, please.”  

Once again, Elliot’s answer was correct and succinct.

“To secure a server, you use the SSL protocol for data encryption and decryption. Establish a secure password for your root and administrative users. Create the new users in the system. Remove remote access from the default root accounts. Configure your firewall rules for your remote access.”

I watched Elliot as he answered, his eyes focused on a spot over my shoulder. I made my notes as JaLeah moved on to the next question.

“What are the most common types of cyberattacks? Explain which attack you feel is most common and why it is most common.”

Elliot listed off the usual attacks with ease—phishing, malware, DDoS, password attacks, malvertising, man in the middle, but it was his answer to the second part of the question that allowed us to see a glimpse under his carefully crafted façade.

“People. People are the only reason cyberattacks happen and people are the ones who make it easy for hackers to execute any attack. The most common cyberattack in a large corporation is phishing—people are all too willing to provide information without first checking the origination. People who work in companies operate on autopilot, running their daily programs, usually without interruption, and in order to avoid a runtime error, people will click a link, enter their password, and by then, they have you.”**

We were all quiet for a moment and Elliot looked a bit surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he just said aloud.

“Excellent answer, Mr. Alderson,” JaLeah said, narrowing her eyes and nodding, still mulling over Elliot’s response. “If only we knew how to prevent human error—but I supposed that would be a billion-dollar answer,” she finished, flashing him a smile.

He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a tiny smile in response.

That was the only real glimpse of Elliot’s personality we got for the rest of the interview, but he absolutely nailed the task, finding each vulnerability we set up in our system and fixing it in record time.

“Do you have any questions for us, Mr. Alderson?” I asked as we closed out the interview.

“I’ve already found out everything I needed to know,” Elliot replied, his eyes meeting and holding my gaze.

I smirked and nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Mr. Alderson. You’ll hear from HR within 24 hours, either way,” I said as I hit the intercom.

“Please see Mr. Alderson out, Jayne.”

Elliot left as nervously as he entered, not bothering with any attempt at casual conversation to make his interview a bit more memorable.

As soon as the office door clicked shut, Colin leaned back in his chair and said, “No way. Guy’s weird.”

“Weird?” I questioned. “Since when is being nervous the same as being ‘weird’?”

“He didn’t make eye contact with me once—and not like in an ‘on the spectrum way.’ More like, he has a secret and no one can know it way. I’m not trying to be a dick—I just got a bad vibe.”

“Well, you are being a dick,” I said. “There are a thousand reasons why people struggle with eye contact, Colin. Don’t stereotype. Give me something factual if you really didn’t like him for the position.”

“And I remember a time when you couldn’t look me in the eye, Colin,” JaLeah said, her dark eyes flashing.

Colin rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

“He didn’t elaborate on any of the questions—he spit back text-book answers on every one, except for JaLeah’s question about cyberattacks. I felt like he wasn’t hungry for this job—he acted like he didn’t really want it.”

I nodded my head.

“I wish he would have elaborated, too. However, I think his tech skills far outweigh any subpar people skills.”

“I agree with Y/N,” JaLeah said. “But I do see Colin’s point—remember when we had those interns? We ended up hiring Steph because she was able to build a rapport with everyone here. Granted, they all had about the same skill set, but her ability to communicate set her apart.”

“Doesn’t it also work in reverse, though--tech skills over people skills?”

Colin nodded in agreement. “It does.”

“So, let me make you both a deal: if any of the remaining candidates perform as well or better than Elliot Alderson on the task, we hire them. If not, we go with Alderson.”

“Works for me,” JaLeah said. “For the record, I did like him. He really spit some fire on that answer about human error.”

I smiled at JaLeah and nodded while Colin rolled his eyes.

“Alright—who’s up next?” he said, already accepting the idea that he was probably not going to win this one.  

* * * * *

I closed my eyes and rolled my neck, listening to the bones pop and crunch. It was time to get up and take a lap around the office before the blood decided to pool in my calves and send me to an early grave.

It was nearly 8 pm, so when I saw the illumination of a computer screen reflected in a set of big grey eyes, I was a bit surprised. Elliot Alderson had accepted our offer and started at CIStech three weeks ago. He was proving to be an excellent engineer, and once he settled in, I wanted to assign him to the white hat team.

However, Colin saw fit to initiate a trial by fire and made Elliot the project manager for the development of a new code that could counter a DDoS flooding attack.  

Colin may have done it to be an asshole, but I permitted it out of curiosity to see if my hire had what it took to climb. It was already clear that Elliot’s skills were unmatched. If he could pitch, he would be on the fast-track to becoming my boss one day.

When he saw me approach, his fingers immediately stilled and a look of apprehension crossed his features.

“Hey, Elliot. Working late?” I asked, surprised at the butterflies in my stomach as I initiated a conversation with him.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Ms. Y/L/N. I didn’t realize how late it was,” Elliot said in his deep voice, his words rolling out in that gentle monotone.

“Y/N. It’s Y/N—we don’t do that Mr. and Ms. stuff once you’re hired. Call me crazy, but I like to think of all 50 or so of us as a family. Distant and dysfunctional, sure. But whose family isn’t?” I finished with an awkward chuckle at my own joke.

Elliot looked at me, his expression unreadable, and said nothing for what felt like an obscene amount of time. I’m certain my cheeks colored at my failed attempt at a joke and his subsequent silence. I began to feel an urgent need to fill the quietness with this almost-stranger I just called “family” when Elliot finally spoke.

“That’s . . . nice.”

I laughed and said, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Elliot gave me a tiny smile, if you could even call the fleeting upturn of his lips before they drew back into a straight line a smile.

“No. I’m not.”

I thought for a few seconds, wanting my first one-on-one interaction with Elliot to be right. A thousand things to say barreled through my mind like Shanghai’s Maglev, and I saw Elliot’s attention turn back to his computer, his fingers twitching, probably wondering if it would be rude to go back to work.

“Do you know what I wish, Elliot?” I said, my words rushed as I reigned in the speeding train of my thoughts.

“No,” Elliot said, looking at me with genuine confusion.

“I wish we had a code we could input to just automatically cut out the bullshit of small talk. Imagine if our minds could input all of that information—we’d know right away whether or not a person was to our liking, whether they would be someone who could become our friend.”

Elliot looked at me, his eyes shining from the monitor in the dark of the office, his mouth a bit agape; he looked at me as if I were either the first human he’d ever seen or the last human he’d ever see—I couldn’t make up my mind on the former or the latter.

“Is that totally crazy?” I asked.

“It’s the least crazy thing I’ve ever heard,” Elliot said, his voice breaking with its normal monotone to convey honesty.  

I smiled, and the butterflies in my stomach finally settled. I moved around Elliot’s desk and leaned on the edge. He scooted his chair back so he could angle it toward me, his hands fidgeting, unsure what to do without a keyboard underneath of them.

“I’m willing to pretend that code is real—we’ve scanned each other, determined we’re cool, and can now proceed along the route of friendship. At least, that’s what my data has output.”

Elliot grinned, and the fucking butterflies came back in full force. There was no part of my 8 pm afterwork self that was equipped to handle how damn good-looking this guy was.  

“My data reads the same,” he said, his smile turning shy, his eyes flickering away from my face and toward the floor.

“Excellent. So, as emerging friends, I want to confess that, believe or not, I’m not much of a talker either.”

“I—I don’t think we are the same kind of not-talkers,” Elliot said, frowning up at me.

“Do me a favor. Tomorrow, pay attention after you pitch the DDoS counter plan. Once the pitch is out, everyone shoots off their own ideas and if they don’t have an original thought, they’ll turn to criticism. I won’t say a word—I never do.”

“Why?” Elliot asked, clearly interested because his response was immediate.

“Because I listen. People are so consumed by a need to have self-validation that they talk just to talk, hoping something that comes out of their mouth is what sparks someone else’s path to self-validation. It’s a . . . circle jerk, if you don’t mind me speaking in my ‘off the clock’ tongue.”

Elliot’s mouth had dropped open a little again as he listened, his brows drawn in as he gave it some thought—well, a lot of thought because once again, the silence bordered on oppressive before he spoke again.

“I thought people only said things like that inside their minds. Especially bosses.”

“Did I reveal an inherent human truth you were unaware of?”

Elliot chuckled, a gravelly rumble, and it was the cutest damn thing I had ever heard.

“No—I’ve thought the same thing for as long as I can remember.”

“See? Our data chose well. Now, do you want to sit there and tell me more about how unalike we are or are you ready to trust me enough to help you with whatever is plaguing you about pitching tomorrow?”

“How did you—” Elliot began before sighing and popping off of his chair to stalk over to the window. It took me by surprise that a little piece of his mask was so readily falling away.

I stayed where I was, even though his form was little more than a shadow that moved against the backdrop of the lighted city.

“I am not good with people,” Elliot said, his voice sounding harsh and too loud in the quiet office. “I don’t know how to talk to them one-on-one, so I sure as hell don’t know how to talk to them in a group. All I can think of when I get in front of anyone is how much of an idiot they think I am. I even typed up a letter of resignation,” Elliot said, his voice returning to its normal murmur with his confession.

This time, it was my turn to nurse the quiet. I thought about saying, Bullshit—you’re talking to me. You can do anything you put your mind to! But Elliot wasn’t someone who needed a pep-talk. He was deeper than that—probably even deeper than I could ever comprehend. “I’m not gonna bullshit you. You could walk out of here and get hired just about anywhere in any one of these buildings with your skill set. But I’d like to believe that you care, maybe just a little, that I am the one who extended you an offer—gave you a shot at your first ‘real’ job. So, yeah, you can run. But you’ll hurt my feelings if you do.” Whatever Elliot was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that. He walked back to stand in front of me and he blinked those big eyes that were once again a reflection of the light blue of the desktop.

“You don’t even know me enough to be affected by anything I do. I’m just another cog in the wheel.” I thought we were on a path to friendship, but if this was Elliot’s response to my admission I cared about whether or not he quit, I knew he was hiding, deep, deep inside of himself. “What makes you think you’re unworthy of general human concern? You are human, aren’t you?” I said, once again making an awkward joke for myself to softly laugh at. “I—I didn’t mean that I—" “Careful, Elliot. You intrigue me. And when people intrigue me, I have to figure them out. Have to.”

Elliot took off toward the window again, pacing as he struggled to convey his fear.

“Like I said, I’m not much of a talker and I’m not very good with people. I can do anything with a computer, but people. I just . . . can’t.”

“Mmm, until I see a T-800 running around and declaring “I’ll be back,” I will disagree with you that you can do ‘anything’ with a computer.”

Elliot stopped pacing and turned to face me, his head comically turned to the side as he decided whether or not to finally laugh at one of my jokes.

This time, he did laugh, a soft little chuckle as he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pants’ pockets.

“Let me make you an offer—”

“An offer I can’t refuse?”

I giggled and shook my head.

“Yes! He jokes! We really are on the path to friendship. . . which means, I want to help you: Fill me in on the details of what you’ve designed, and we can practice. Come on—we’ll go in the meeting room.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You did not ask. I gave you a command. All you have to do is type Y,” I said in a sing-song voice, smiling before pushing off the edge of his desk and walking toward the meeting room.

I turned after a moment to see Elliot grab his laptop and follow me.

When we crossed the office to the meeting room, I paused with my hand on the door.

“Actions help us believe what our minds have convinced us not to believe—if I truly thought you were nothing more than a cog, would I give my time to you? Tell me—what’s more valuable than time?”

Elliot didn’t answer me. Instead, he smiled at me, his expression conveying his gratitude.

I turned the knob and walked toward the sofa, plopping onto the cushion.

“So, fill me in.”

* * * * *

Elliot and I passed many nights like this, and I quickly realized Elliot wasn’t going to follow in my footsteps and climb up the management ladder. After his DDoS proposal, Colin followed my recommendation and moved Elliot to the white hat hackers, a small team of ten. The white hats worked a little more in isolation than the other techs, which is what Elliot wanted. 

So, we worked. We talked. We listened. We ate too much take-out and spent too many late hours at the office.

Our data was compatible, which would be Elliot-speak for saying, “We became friends.” 

***Present***

“Elliot! Elliot, what happened?” I asked as I dropped to my knees and rolled him the rest of the way onto his back.

His eyes snapped open and darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. Elliot scooted away and backed up to the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and crossing his arms over his legs. He looked like a trapped, feral animal, trying to make itself as small as possible to avoid capture.

I noticed the cuts and the trails of blood that smeared across his hands, and I saw that there was blood on the floor where he had been laying. As I looked him over, I also saw a gash across his forehead that ran into his hairline. Blood was still trickling down the side of his face.

“Elliot,” I said again in a soft, calm voice.

He still didn’t react; instead, he looked around the room and started mumbling, thumping the back of his head off the wall.

I got up and quickly moved to drop down in front of him, placing my hand between his head and the wall. It looked like he already had a concussion and I didn’t want him to hurt himself anymore.

“Elliot. Hey. It’s Y/N. You’ve gotta focus, sweetheart. Focus on my voice.”

I kept repeating myself in the same soothing tone. After a few moments, I slowly reached out and grasped his shoulder, running my thumb over the material of his light grey dress shirt.

Slowly, Elliot stopped moving his head and his eyes stopped darting. I still had no idea what he was mumbling and if it weren’t for the vibrations of his chest and the very subtle movements of his lips, I wouldn’t have known he was speaking.

When Elliot finally fixed his eyes on my face, his brows contracted into confusion.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice raspy, like someone who had been talking too loudly over music or who had smoked too many cigarettes in a night.

“Hey,” I said smiling and removing my hand from his shoulder.

“Shit! The servers!” Elliot said, and tried to dart up, but I held him back.

“No. Don’t move. Your head is bleeding and so are your hands. I need to get you to a hospital.”

Once again Elliot’s eyes began to look everywhere but my face and he tried to scramble up. This time, he broke free from my grasp and I found myself flat on my ass as he bolted up from the floor.

He didn’t get very far because after about three steps he swooned and crashed into one of the broken servers. I scrambled to my feet and helped him sit back down on the floor.

“See? Hospital. Now.”

This time Elliot looked right at me, his eyes filled with tears as he begged me not to take him to a hospital. The display of pure emotion was a shock for me—even though Elliot and I spent a lot of time together, he was always very careful in his interactions and remained emotionally distant. To see him so vulnerable made me rethink my insistence.

“Shh, okay. Okay. Listen—I don’t know if you’re concussed or what, but can you tell me anything about what happened? Or when this happened? If the tapes never went out. . .” I trailed off, unable to even imagine the repercussions.  

“The courier left at 4:48.”

I raised my eyebrow at Elliot’s precise answer.

“Okaaaay.”

“I remember the time because—” Elliot broke off and looked away.

“Because why?”

“That’s when they locked me in here,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the buzzing of the air conditioning that kept the server room so cool.

My phone rang, startling both of us. As I talked, Elliot retreated further into himself again, his knees pressed to his chest once more, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“Yes, I’m at work, Miles.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“We definitely have a problem, but everything’s been backed up—the tapes were couriered out this afternoon.”

“No—you don’t need to come in.”

“Uh, it’s a problem with the a few of the servers themselves, some broken parts. Listen, I promise—I’ll take care of it and everything will be up and running on Tuesday like nothing ever happened.”

“You’re welcome—enjoy your night.”

“I will. Bye.”

I hung up the phone and stood up, leaving Elliot to himself for a moment. I surveyed the damage that was apparently done by Elliot himself. My mind couldn’t even grasp the idea that people I supervised, many of whom I had hired myself, would do something so inhumane.

It was no secret that people avoided Elliot, even his white hat teammates—he was closed off, smarter than most of them, and worked harder than all of them. I wasn’t blind to the way he was he treated, but I also knew him in a different way; I knew he kept to himself because it was so difficult for him to socialize with people he considered strangers.

I also knew Elliot didn’t mean to do this.

After I surveyed the damage, I began thinking outloud, “Towers 2, 3, 6, and 7 are fucking toast, but the rest are untouched. I need to synchronize the traffic to the secondary servers and synch the databases. Since it’s Memorial Day weekend, the traffic is light enough that no real damage should have been done. I have a friend who might be able to get us new towers.”

Elliot was watching me as I talked and figured out how to fix his mess.

“I can—” he began, but I cut him off.

“I have to tell them how this happened, Elliot. I’m not making any promises, but if I can fix it by Tuesday morning, you might be able to keep your job. And I can promise you, the fucking assholes that did this to you won’t.”

Elliot looked to the floor again, his face filled with sadness.

“Sit—do not move while I grab some papertowels and ice.”

Elliot gave me a barely perceptible nod, and I went off to gather what I needed to ice his head and clean up the blood.

When I came back, Elliot was sitting at the desk in the server room, his fingers poking over the keys on the keyboard.

“Damnit, Elliot! I said not to move.”

“This is all my fault. I have to fix it. I have to fix it. I have to—”

I cut him off by lifting his arms away from the keyboard and scooting the rolling chair back. Elliot turned his bloodshot eyes to mine, the rims lined with red and I wondered if he’d been crying.

I sighed and placed my hands on both of his shoulders.

“This is not your fault,” I said firmly, my eyes flickering between his, refusing to release him from my gaze until he listened to me.

Elliot opened his mouth, then closed it, choosing not to fight me.

“Hold this on your head,” I said, tearing my eyes from his face, and reaching for the ice pack I had set on the desk.

Elliot complied, and I turned back to the desk to finish synchronizing the servers. Once I was done, I wiped up the blood on the floor with the wet papertowels, then unplugged the damaged servers.

“Now, let’s get out of here. Your head is still bleeding,” I said as I made a final lap to check for damage.

I helped Elliot up by wedging my hand under his elbow, careful to avoid his fucked up hands. For a moment, the two of us were face-to-face. His eyes lifted up to look into mine and I sighed, reaching up to grasp his chin and turn his head to look at the gash.

“Head wounds are the worst. Never can tell how deep they are,” I whispered, looking closely at his cut.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know, El. Come on.”

Elliot followed me out of the server room and I locked the door. After throwing away the bloodied papertowels in the bathroom, I came out to see Elliot at his desk, struggling into his hoodie, hissing as his bleeding and bruised hands slid through the fabric.

“I’ll get your backpack,” I said as I approached and reached under his desk to pull it out. “Is there anything else you need?”

Elliot shook his head no and I shrugged into his backpack. He stayed close as I set the alarm and waited for the elevator, neither one of us wanting to talk.

“Good night, Lance,” I called toward the front desk as I kept walking.

“Eh, Ms. Y/L/N? Do you need me to call—”

“Nope—all is well! Sorry you’re stuck here tonight, though,” I said with a wave.

“Me, too,” Lance answered, chuckling a little.

I led Elliot to the passenger door of my SUV, opening it and then waiting for Elliot to get in. Once I made sure he was settled, I shut the door and opened up the back door to take off his backpack and place it onto the seat.

I got in, buckled up, and put the key in the ignition. The radio started belting out the Britney Spears song I was rocking to on the way in, and I quickly turned it down after Elliot and I both jumped.

“Now you know my darkest secret,” I said shaking my head.

Elliot looked at me, the hint of the smallest smile in the universe turning up one corner of his mouth.

“I’m taking you to my place and I don’t want an argument. I have a friend who is a PA and I’m going to call her. She’s going to look at your head and if she says you need to go to the hospital, you are going to go. Is that clear?”

Elliot frowned and his eyes looked to the door as if he was contemplating whether or not he could escape.

I quickly put the SUV in gear and swerved out into the street to prevent him from making a move.

“Ok,” he said quietly, knowing he had no other choice.

[komkommertijd]

11, 14 & 28 if you want 💙

It took me forever to answer this and I am so so sorry honey, but thanks for sending me some numbers!!💛💛💛

11. describe your ideal day.

Ok listen, I am someone who (sometimes at least) loves planning their day and in the end, it never works out anyway. I think my ideal day right now would mean getting up at 9 am and drinking some cappuccino with coconut milk on the balcony while scrolling through Tumblr and maybe even eating something if I’m feeling super fancy. I’d probably study Dutch for a few hours before going back inside and playing the guitar a bit, do some plotting for the fic I’m currently working on while watching some Netflix and then maybe going out for a run or just for a walk around the city, depending on how much time I have. I’d probably make dinner with my mom and get some writing done before drinking my evening tea and watching some more Netflix. I guess I’d go to sleep between 11 pm and 12:30 am.

On a school day like today, it would probably mean getting up early and walking to school with some motivating music after breakfast. I guess the Wednesdays I have to attend school are the most ideal school days because I only have two periods of English, one chemistry and one biology class and then I can go back home at around 11 am, eat some lunch and relax for the rest of the day.

A currently highkey unrealistic ideal day, ignoring the existence of school and life and responsibilities would probably be a day spent on the slope, preferably with my family in the morning and on my own in the afternoon. I miss snowboarding a lot right now, so much that I suggested spending the summer holidays in Australia just to hit the slope again, and I also got new Oakley goggles, one of those who enhance your sight so you can see the contrast of the snow better (I had the same bad children’s goggles for 14 years so I got some good ones now) and I only got to try them on the last day of my last winter vacation so I’m very excited to try them out. Also, I got my own board for Christmas which doesn’t only look aesthetic but it’s also very well balanced between boarding on the slope, off-slope and fun parks, so it’s very very smooth and makes carving and jumping so much more fun (although I can barely do a frontside Ollie - I’m no Scott James or Yuki Kadono).

My most ideal day would just consist of snowboarding and who knows, maybe I’ll find some friends one day who would want to join me.

14. are you a musician?

I’d like to say that I am! As of right now, I can play three instruments and I also love singing (I’m one of those annoying sopranos and I’m part of my school’s choir). I’ve been playing the violin since kindergarten (so for 11 years already), I played the saxophone for three years and I started playing the guitar last December. I’m not all that good at it yet, it’s only been half a year after all, but I can play some 20-ish songs (watch me playing the same two Bastille songs 24/7 though) with chords and the tabs for Yesterday and the most mainstream part of Seven Nation Army. I actually played the F1 theme on my electric violin not too long ago and I couldn’t find any notes or sheet music for it online so it sounded a bit wobbly, the flute version (or my own kazoo version) is nothing compared to that. My favorite thing to play on the violin is probably ragtime and music from movies because everything else is just too goddamn hard? Besides Czardas and it’s fast parts (sorry for the David Garret version it was the first one I found sjdhsh), I love that one. Mozart’s Turkish March and Beethoven’s Romance in F are my current challenges. 

I apologize for being boring, classic music isn’t all that interesting :”)

28. on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

That honestly depends, not only on the person but also on how they’re doing it. Of course, it’s easier for my brother than it is for some random stranger, I guess that seems logical? So yeah, the closer the person is to me the easier it becomes, but I guess no one gets lower than a 4.5 on that scale. 

I remember my confirmation when my father held a speech and for the first time in 14 years, I felt as if he was proud of me, it was the first time ever he’s told me that, even if it was indirectly, and I had to try so hard not to cry - I guess in emotional situations that hold a certain meaning it’s easier to get under my skin than it normally is. This example is probably the most special one because it only happened once and never again, so it really stuck with me.

Depending on the person and the situation it can be anything between the initial 4.5 to a 9. I guess I’m getting better at hiding my emotions though, so even if people upset me I can keep that too myself and not let it show.

I hope my long answers aren’t too overwhelming, thanks again for asking 💛

send me an identity ask <3

[chopper-witch]

Honey, Where is My Super Suit one-shot series: Loki

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: some angst, poor Loki’s dinner gets ruined, implied smut

Word count: 2,927

Summary: Loki has your special dinner all planned out and is more than a little upset when it ends up disturbed.

____

“When you said you were glad we finally got to have dinner together because you set up something special I expected… I’m not sure. But not this!” You exclaim, gesturing towards the set up. 

Three weeks ago was your and Loki’s three year anniversary but any plans that may have been were canceled by a last-minute mission you were needed on that started three days before your anniversary and ended eight days after. 

But that was a pattern you and Loki were accustomed to: plans were never guaranteed. Whether it was you being whisked away due to an emergency mission or him being called in due to an 084 they needed help with, it became apart of your life. 

Or if plans weren’t interrupted by last-minute calls, then they were interrupted by surprise visits from friends and co-workers who love to just show up and don’t need a key to get inside, like Natasha or Tony. No matter what security (or spells) you two installed, they always find their way in. 

So tonight you were assured by Fury, Coulson, and several others up the chain of command that you would not be needed tonight and if there were any issues with 084s they would handle it the way they did before the Asgardians landed on Earth.

Which is how you walked back into your apartment after Loki telling you to stay out until 7 PM to this scene. 

Candles lit nearly everywhere: on the table by the couch, on the kitchen counter, and a few larger ones on the tiny table you wedge near the window. An obscene amount of food, all things Loki has called his specialties ever since he learned how to cook down here on Earth: alfredo bowtie pasta, panelle with goat cheese and salsa rustica, arancini, saltimbocca, and the most delicious chocolate cake you have ever had (Loki became partial it Italian food and you still have yet to figure out why). And the best part, of course, is Loki, standing nervously by the table. 

“So is it alright?”

Your eyes flit back to him in his perfectly tailored all black suit. “It’s perfect, Loki.”

“Well then stop staring at it and come enjoy it.”

“So pushy.” 

But you comply, dropping your bag beside the door and walking over to your absolutely perfect boyfriend. 

“Alright,” you smile, grabbing the lapels of his suit, “what is first of the menu chef.” 

Loki releases a small chuckle. “First is a kiss.” 

He presses his lips to yours lightly, barely even touching your lips fully with his chaste kiss. Nonetheless the softness of his lips never fails to make you smile, so any kiss is a good kiss with him.

“And now, it’s whatever you’d like to start with.” 

You bite you lip. Everything he makes always ends up perfect somehow. “How about a little of everything?” 

“Anything for you.” 

But Loki, being the true (yet suspiciously well-behaved) gentleman he is, pulls your chair for you at the tiny table wedge near the window. It’s sweet so you comply, normally not keen on letting him to things for you. 

Once everything is settled the two of you can legitimately talk. Your plate is full of far too much food and the wine Loki got is definitely something special. Him being so sweet is always lovely, so you don’t mind.

You take a sip of the red wine. It’s surprisingly sweet on your tongue and amazing. 

“Who woulda thought you’d fall in love with your baby sitter?” You muse.

Loki leans back in his chair, peering over to you. “I believe you were the one who said not to call you a baby sitter.”

“True,” you shrug, “but that is basically what I was while they figured out what to do with you.” You shrug and swirl the glass of wine around. “Anything interesting happen besides you cooking earlier? I have a hard time believing you didn’t use your magic.” 

“Oh, I didn’t. What did end up happening is -” 

A long, light familiar buzz emanates from your watch. Mission alert. 

10 second pause. “And then I couldn’t find where you kept the larger things pans.”

Three short but equally light vibrations. Meet at curb of current location. 

15 second pause. “- going to the store to get the wine I want to cook with. That took far too lo-” 

Two short vibrations followed by one equal to both combined. 25 minutes. 

5 second pause. “- is how the panelle ended up so perfect.” 

Three heartbeat-like vibrations. Sam? 

You are dead last on Sam’s list of mission partners meaning it really is important if you are being called in. Literally every single Avenger followed by six other agents come before you. 

“Hey, love,” you say, placing your glass of wine down on the table, “I’m sorry to interrupt your story, but I really need to pee.” 

Though the excuse is poor and weird and horribly said, you stand, hoping he will take it.

The door clicks shut behind you, your hands pressing the lock simultaneously so it doesn’t sound off after the door closes. You really do need to pee; your main objective, however, is to get your second suit that’s hidden in the wall for emergencies like this. Also to find the proper words to apologize to Loki. But it’s just another dinner ruined after all. Just like every single one so far over the past few months. 

After doing your business (and washing your hands extra loudly to keep Loki distracted from thinking something suspicious) you pull on the lever along the vent on the ground. The panel slides open, the section of the wall well hidden due to it being tiled. 

It’s empty. No pants, no shirt, no jacket, no boots, no weaponry. Not even the pepper spray is in there. 

Your hands feel around inside. Maybe things are just hidden in the shadows? 

No. 

It’s entirely empty.

Loki.

“You alright love?” 

You pull open the door, a sickly sweet smile on your face. Loki is leaning casually against the end of your bed frame, hands curled around the wood. He has that stupid satisfied smirk on his face that you’ve gladly kicked off more than once. 

“Loki, where did you put my suit?” You ask through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t know what you speak of?” He shrugs. 

“Honey, dear, love, where is my suit? There is an emergency situation and Sam will be at the curb in 20 minutes.” 

“I think the real emergency here is the danger you put our dinner in.” 

“Loki, this isn’t a joke!” Your voice is beginning to raise. 

“You promised me a night off.” Loki pushes himself forward, taking the two steps it takes to get to you. “Fury and Coulson assured you of a night off. The only joke here is thinking I would let you go.” He rests his right hand along your jaw, thumb gently tracing along your cheek. 

“Loki where did you put it? And how do you even know about it?”

“You are not as sneaky as you believe.” He grins.

“Where is it?” 

“That is not important.” 

“Not important?” You shove him back. “Loki there is an emergency somewhere that they called me as Sam’s partner. That’s really fucking important.” 

“Nothing is as important as this dinner.” His voice is still tempered, calm. 

And it is utterly infuriating. 

“We can have thousands of dinners Loki.” You sigh, closing your eyes a moment to try and calm your voice.“If I don’t go help people down there, they may never have any more. Where is my goddamn suit?” 

“Finish our dinner and I’ll tell you.” 

“I don’t have that kind of time.” You shake your head at him. Your phone vibrates twice on the counter. “And look, there is more of the mission information. Goddamnit Loki this is important!” It comes out more like a whine than a shout, your anger reaching a breaking point at his complete and utter calm.

“I am more important than some foolish mission that will turn upside down like it always does!” He huffs. “I am your significant other and this is the first time we are finally getting a night together without interruptions.” 

“They wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” Your posture relaxes and you walk a bit closer to him. Your right hand reaches to rest at the nape of his neck, your left resting gently on his chest. “You are one of the most important people in the world to me, but helping those who need it is important as well. We will get a night off at some point, I promise.” You look down before releasing him reluctantly, turning to grab your phone. 

He is stoic in his spot half way between the bed at the bathroom door, forcing you to push past him as you dial Sam. 

Loki chooses not to try and convince you to stay and leans back against the bed, listening to your voice as it trails off. 

“Hey, any chance you have my suit or an extra one that might fit me? Oh awesome, thanks Sam. That reminds me...” 

His hands squeeze the bed frame; the wood cracks beneath his grip and is immediately iced over. 

—

One week and a far too long debrief later, Sam is parked back in front of your apartment complex. You look up at the building against the night sky, happy to be home, nervous about what is to come. 

“How mad do you think he is?” You quietly ask. 

Sam laughs. “Your paycheck for the next year is gonna be spent on making it up to that drama king up there. Good luck.” 

“It’s gonna take more than luck for me to survive whatever is waiting for me up there. Til next time bird brains.” 

“Nuh uh, you know I only let one person call me that and even then...” 

“Yeah, whatever. Night!” 

-

With a shaky exhale you unlock your apartment door. You know Loki is still there, he never stays at the place they set up for him in the compound even when you both fight. 

“Loki?” You call out. 

There’s no response. 

On the table of your living room is a tipped vase of your favorite flowers, the water long evaporated. The kitchen is almost entirely clean of any indication the two of you were supposed to have a romantic evening or any sort of evening at all save the now re-corked bottle of wine on the center of the counter. 

“Loki?” You call out again, dropping your tactical bag to the bench beside the door. “I know you’re here. I’m sorry.” 

The door of your bedroom opens, the sound loud compared to the relative silence of the rest of your apartment. Loki creeps quietly through the short hallway. He comes into the light looking arguably better, and worse, than you. And it isn’t like he hasn’t be taking care of himself; he rather looks like he’s been mentally beating himself up over your fight. Eyes slightly sunken, hair a little more messy than normal and an actual sweatshirt instead of just a zip-up hoodie like he normally wear if he is going to be in relaxed clothing.

“I’m so sorry for ruining our night,” you begin to apologize, moving forward towards him. “Everything was set up so nicely too, you even made dinner, like a full five course meal. I didn’t want to go but... I had to. I really did need to go.” 

Loki had been making his way towards you as you spoke. His head tilts down once he reaches you, hands pulling up into his sweatshirt to make sweater paws, a nervous habit of his. He quickly removes the fabric from his hands. It’s just you, he reminds himself. 

“I’m sorry for trying to make you try to choose between your job and me.” Loki lifts up his hands so his palms face you. You smile, threading your fingers through his, the feeling of his skin against yours a nice change of pace from the craziness of this past week. “I just spent so long trying to make it perfect since we finally had a night without any distractions. I even went out of my way to get a ring so I could do it the way you mortals in this part of the world do it…” he trails off, looking up with eyes widening as realization of his admission hits him. 

You drop your head down, resting the top on his chest. “You were going to propose. That’s why, ah…” You tilt your head back and smile. “That’s why not only did you actually legitimately cook for once without magic but you were also legitimately upset. Well… I’m free now.”

Loki frowns. “Aren’t proposals supposed to be romantic and special?”

You shake your head. “I’m an agent that works for an organization that ranges from completely covert operations to straight up public as hell. Special I appreciate. Romantic is sort of no longer in my vocabulary. Where’s the ring?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Where’s the ring?”

Loki sighs, releasing his right hand and conjuring a small velvet green box in a flash of green. Your fingers unthread from his left, allowing you to pluck the box from his hand and open it. Inside sits a thin gold band complete with an inset of three gems: one emerald in the center, larger than the two diamonds on the outside of it. You pick it up from the box. It’s simple and pretty and definitely going to need to go on a necklace or be left behind for field missions. Regardless, you slide it onto your left ring finger and toss the box back to Loki who catches it, but barely.

You shrug. “There, all done.” 

“Is that you saying yes?” 

“That’s me saying yes. I hope you got yourself a matching one because we are both very officially off the market, not just me. Oh! I got you something while I was gone to make up for missing our dinner...” you dig around in your jacket, fishing inside both pockets until you find the paper. “Here we go.” 

Loki peers at skeptically as he grabs it. It’s folded and worn due to it being stuck in there for a good three days and definitely suspicious. 

“You read that, I’m going to eat something. Sam has horrible taste and I was stuck with them for a whole damn week.” 

Loki sits down on the couch as you walk over to the kitchen. A giant perk of Loki’s magic is how he extends the expiration date of food so everything he cooked from dinner last week is still perfectly preserved and just needs to be warmed up. You grab out the container full of his signature Alfredo bowtie pasta and reach for a fork in the drawer beside the fridge, closing both with ease. Post-mission flexibility is a real thing. 

You hop up onto the counter facing the couch and pry open the container. The smell wafts up to you. Butter, milk, cheese and gooey goodness is so much better than Sam’s combo of fast-food and healthy breakfast cereals. Your eyes flutter shut to take a moment just to appreciate how much better your fiancé’s cooking is compared to whatever Sam tried to poison you with. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Loki asks. 

“Well...” you begin, taking a forkful of pasta. “I have no idea what you think it is. If you think it’s an official document providing both of us three months leave then yes, it’s what you think it is.” 

“Is this really going to do anything? They promised you a night off and we saw how that went.” 

“That isn’t a ‘we promise we will leave you alone’ text,” you explain through your bite of pasta, “that’s a ‘we cannot contact you even if the world is going to end’ document. For three months. So whatever you want to do we can do for three months.” 

Loki tosses the paper onto the coffee table and stands. You watch as he walks towards you, still mostly focused on eating. No more bird food. It’s as he nears the counter do you finally notice his sparkling predatory gaze - the one he uses when he has an idea that is likely not the best but always ends up being interesting nonetheless. 

His arm wraps around your waist and tugs you to the edge of the counter, eyes staring lustfully down at you.

“Three months, huh?” 

“Plenty of time to elope. We could hop on a plane tonight if you’d like.” 

He grabs the container of pasta and places it beside you. “Or a three month vacation of the world, maybe even the galaxy. Explore it all.” Loki presses a soft kiss to your neck just below your left ear. 

You shudder slightly. “I don’t know about the galaxy, but the world does sound nice.” 

“The world it is then,” he murmurs against your lips. “But I think I want take some time re-exploring you tonight.” 

His lips finally capture yours in a deep, slow kiss. He grabs your arms with his right hand, pushing the wrists together and slowly pulling them up over your head. His left hand remains on your waist, squeezing it hard as the kiss intensifies. 

If this is how every ruined proposal is going to end, maybe you’ll keep ruining them. 

[abovethesmokestacks]

I’ve love literally everything you have written for this 3k celebration! Can we get “The date didn’t go well.  Yeah, she/he didn’t like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.” With Sam Wilson please :)

Adventures In Avoiding Adventures

It’s one of those nights when you can’t settle. The buzz of a successful mission, adrenaline that is hard to bleed out of your system, your mind preoccupied. Some of the nightshift staff at the tower has jokingly begun calling you the Ghost because of how many times you’ve inadvertently scared the bejesus out of them by walking around the building at night.

Tonight, you’re doing your rounds earlier. Technically, you are on light concussion protocol and should be in bed, but you’re too antsy and worked up to comply with that. You can deal with the no tech, no driving, no loud noises, but the adrenaline is still killing you. Walking is not technically strenuous activity, and the tower is mostly dark where you’re roaming. You’ll just walk down like ten floors and then take the elevator back up. Easy. Cake walk.You could sneak some from the communal kitchen and make it an actual cake walk.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

The voice sends you almost jumping out of your skin just as you’re opening the fridge, and the sound of the plate clattering to the floor is like a shriek right in your ear. Whirling around, you find Sam sitting on the counter in the opposite end of the room, apparently also in the mood for cake.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?” you hiss at him, only because screaming would hurt. “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark like a creep?”

“Says the one the staff call the Ghost. I think Barnes is starting to take offense that you’re trespassing on his turf.”

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your plate, “Shut up. And if Barnes wants to have his moniker back he can fight me for it.”

Cutting an obscenely big slice, you close the door, and the room falls into dusky darkness once more. Sam leans over to flip a switch, turning on the spots inset into the cabinets. You wonder what his excuse is, he usually taps out by 10 pm. Or closer to 4 am because he’s-

Wait a minute.

“Why are you home? Didn’t you have a date?”

There’s a second’s hesitation where Sam’s hand stills before digging into his slice of cake.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Tire her out already?”

Sam sighs, sets down his spoon and looks up at you, "The date didn't go very well.” He chuckles at your expression, your eyebrows almost up by your hairline. “Yeah, she... didn't like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.”

To be fair, some of them have been actual adventures. Missions that took a very unexpected “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you”-turn. Sam still has trust issues with the elderly after the instance with the gun running grannies. For the most part, though, your adventures have mostly been of the drunken variety. Boarding the wrong train at the end of a long night, accidentally ending up in the Bronx and walking around Van Cortlandt Park for two hours before realizing you were not in Central Park. A certain karaoke performance at a certain dive bar that you ended up having to beg F.R.I.D.A.Y to intercept any possible video clips being uploaded because you did not need that floating around the internet.

“Sam… You should know better than to talk about another girl when you’re on a date,” you chastise him gently, shaking your head.

“I didn’t mean to!” Sam defends himself, crumbs flying from his mouth. “She just asked questions and, you know, we’re on the same team, we go on missions, we hang out.”

“Yeah, and you also hang out with Bucky and Rhodey, did they pop up in these stories?”

“Yes… okay, fine, not as much. I can’t help it that you’re a goddamn magnet for trouble.”

Scoffing, you clutch at your chest in mock-offense, “Excuse you, I am a saint and the reason you’re still not wandering around up in the Bronx!”

“And I am the reason you’re still not glued to that stage singing-”

You point at him with the spoon, shaking it at him, “Do not. Bring that up. You were just as guilty as I am for that night, or are we ignoring the fact that you brought the Jack?”

“Only because you were out of José!”

“What was I supposed to do, tell you to hold that thought and run down to the closest liquor store for a fresh bottle so we could get drunk on tequila together?” you rambled between bites of cake, quite possibly making crumbs rain just as vigorously as Sam had.

“I mean, in hindsight, a dinner would have been better, but yeah!” Sam retorted, shrugging his shoulders.

“Fine. You and I, dinner, once I’m off concussion protocols. You pick a place and make it fancy because I doubt I can get into trouble wearing heels and anything formal.”

Sam furrowed his brow, looking at you as if waiting for you to tell him you were joking. When you didn’t, simply glared at him, a smile started tugging at his lips.

“Are you asking me out?”

“No!”

(okay, maybe, a little)

“You told me to have dinner with you.” Ugh, that stupid singsong-y voice he got when he thought he was winning.

“Pick. A damn. Place, Wilson, or I swear next time we end up in the wrong borough, I will leave you there.”

“You’re so cute when you’re asking me out.”

“Sam, god damn it!”

He chuckled, finished off his cake and came up to rinse off the plate in the sink next to you. Nudging you, he met your gaze with a smile that was less teasing.

“Be ready in… say, 48 hours?”

| Pia's 3k Drabble Round (closed) |

[thiswasinevitableid]

sternclay - skinny dipping

Full Prompt: it’s almost 3am so I go down to the lake to skinny dip and you decide to join me but you don’t realize I’m naked 

Be warned: Here lies Not Suitable for Your Workplace Content. Lemons. Proceed accordingly.

Barclay has some things he misses from the Pacific Northwest. Good craft beer, lots of bakeries, lots of ocean. Right now, he’s missing the fact that the air doesn’t feel like goddamn soup in the summertime.

It’s almost two in the morning. His room won’t cool down now matter what he does, and the humidity makes the effort needed to fall asleep feel insurmountable.

Time for drastic measures.

He slips on his shoes and heads off into the woods. About a quarter of a mile later he finds himself at the shore of a small lake, one that’s usually deserted during the day. Late at night, it’s as peaceful as the grave.

Had he just been looking to soak, he could’ve used the springs. But he has other ideas, pulls off all his clothes and folds them on a rock before slipping into the water. Sinking under the water he swims a few yards back before coming up to float on his back, sighing as his body finally feels cool and not sticky.

For awhile all he does is float. It’s not that he doesn’t love the lodge, love his friends. But he’s always had a solitary streak, and things have been so chaotic and terrible lately that he hasn’t had two minutes of alone time to rub together.

Just as he finishes this thought, there’s the sound of footfalls coming down the trail towards the small dock.

His mind flashes through possibilities as he shifts to stand on the lake bed, water up to his mid-chest: tourists? Other lodge residents? Hornets? An abomination?

“Oh, good evening Barclay. I thought I heard someone down here.”

It’s the worst possible option, then.

He turns towards the dock and waves awkwardly at Agent Stern, the man who’s literally hunting him. And the man who has morphed into a crush that Barclay is never going to admit to.

Stern is in shorts and a “Roswell, NM” T-Shirt, with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah, uh, couldn’t sleep so I came down here for a swim.”

“A wise idea. I’ve been on a stakeout in the woods since 10 PM and I feel like I may never be unsweaty again.”

“No luck on the stakeout?”

“No, as always.” He sits down on the dock, begins undoing his shoe laces, “don’t know why I thought I’d find Bigfoot out in the woods in the dead of night, but at this point I can’t afford to dismiss an idea. I think I’ll soak my feet for a minute before heading back.”

He dips his feet into the water and lets out a happy sigh and Barclay can’t help but smile; the man is a threat to him on a variety of levels, but it’s moment like this, where he’s vulnerable and relaxed and dressed like the paranormal seeking nerd he is that have made Barclay grow attached to him.  No reason he can’t chat with him for a few minutes, as long as he keeps his lower body safely under the waterline.

“Did I miss any excitement in the lodge this evening?”

“Nah, except Jake doing a very ill-fated cannonball into the springs.”

(And Aubrey accidentally setting a couch on fire, but Stern doesn’t need to know that).

Stern swings his legs in the water, clearly lost in thought.

“Any exciting plans this weekend?”

“Work, mostly.” Barclay shrugs.

“Would you be interested in-ow!” Stern slaps his arm, “Damn bugs. How are you not being eaten alive?”

“Water keeps most of me out of range.” He indicates how much of him is still covered by the lake.

(And mosquitoes don’t seem to like Sylph blood, but he keeps that to himself).

“Right, then, I’m joining you because this is unpleasant and I’m still. so. Sticky.” He strips his shirt off and folds it, rests his shorts on top of it and Barclay is screwed, he’s so screwed, because Stern is in his boxers and is now in the water.  Mercifully he doesn’t swim towards Barclay, choosing instead to sink under the water and then pop up near some boulders to Barclays right.

“Good god that feels nice. You’re a genius, Barclay.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to know cold water takes the edge of a West Virginia summer.”

“I suppose, but allow me the pleasure of complimenting you alright?” Stern shoots back teasingly and Barclay’s about to stammer out a retort when he disappears under the water.

Goddammit, where did he go? He can’t get too close or he’s going to realize Barclay is skinny dipping and, no, no, body, he is not going to get turned on at the idea of his crush finding him naked by surprise.

Stern rises from the water to his side, now a little more than an arms length away.

“Hello.” He smiles, and he looks so boyish, so unlike his collected, intimidating self.

“Hi.” Barclay whispers.

“I will gladly leave you to you peaceful swim in a moment, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No, uh, no need to rush off on my account. Don’t mind sharing the lake.”

Oh come on, is he turning into Duck? Why didn’t he just lie and say he wanted Stern to leave?

It’s then he notices Stern has gotten closer, and seems to be examining his scars. He rubs his arm, trying to hide the nerves arising at the idea of the man asking about some of the ones that came from Pine Guard work.

“What happened to your wrist?”

“Oven” he lets himself relax, “it’s common for cooks to get a sort of permanent burn scar there from bumping their arm on the roof of the oven.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Nah, not the worst injury I’ve gotten in a kitchen.” He flips over his hand, shows his palm, “got that trying to break down a chicken.”

Stern winces, then reaches out and glides a thumb across the jagged mark on Barclays upper bicep.

“What about this?”

“Dog attack.”

(A dog shaped abomination).

“This one?”

“Rock climbing incident.”

(He had to get away from that camera crew somehow).

“You’ve lived quite a life.” Stern murmurs, hand still moving up and down his arm and giving him goosebumps, his body screaming at him to to reach out and reciprocate the gesture.

“What about you, any battle scars?” He nudges Stern playfully.

“Other than these,” he indicates the two semi-circles on his chest, “hmmmm. Oh!” He tugs the edge of his boxers down to show his hip, “I got this falling off a roof.”

“Ouch, were you sneaking out to meet a guy or something?”

“No….I was trying to look for UFOs and lost my balance.”

Barclay covers his mouth as he laughs, tries to speak as he does, “that’s-”

“Silly, I know.”

“I was gonna say adorable.” He grins, then realizes what he just said.

Stern laughs softly, clears his throat trying to dispel the strange feeling building in the air.

“You have the twin of it, look.” He places his index finger on Barclays hip and moves it down. Then keeps moving it down, eyes widening in realization.

“That’s why you were staying so far from shore.”

“Yep.” Barclay is frozen in place, voice tight, in part because Stern hasn’t stopped gliding his finger along his skin.

“In retrospect, I should have noticed your underwear folded on top of your pants on the dock.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t expecting to find the best looking man in the state swimming in the moonlight.”

“I, uh, wait, what?”

“I’m very attracted to you, Barclay, I thought I’d made that obvious.” His hand comes up, rubs lightly across Barclays chest.

“Kind of, maybe, I, uh, goddamn it I can’t focus when you’re doing that.”

“Should I stop?”

“Please don’t.” He tips his head back with a groan as Stern closes the remaining distance between them, wraps one arm around him while the other continues tracing along his body. He brings his hands to rest on Sterns hips, feels the front of his boxers rubbing against his cock.

“Mmmm, and how long have you been dealing with that situation” Stern rolls his hips and Barclay shudders.

“Since you took your shirt off.”

“Holy shit, Barclay.”

“Not my fault you’ve got a body that makes me drool and a face I can’t stop picturing between my thighs.” He mumbles against the top of Sterns head as the smaller man begins frantically kissing his neck.  On a whim, he lowers his hands down and squeezes Sterns ass, earning him a rather surprised moan. Does it again, starts grinding against him and Stern meets his eyes, panting.

“I was, I was going to ask you to dinner tomorrow night but I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“For whatAHhhhn, yes, babe.” Fingers close around his cock, stroking it lovingly and he buries his face against Sterns neck to muffle a growl.

“Good god, this is just as impressive as it looks in your jeans.”

“Rude to ogle a guy when he’s working.”

“Not as rude as staring at a guest in the hot springs WHoahoh.” Stern loses his balance slightly, letting go of Barclays cock to as he does so and the larger man steadies him.

“We oughta move this somewhere we aren’t gonna fall on our asses.”

“Anywhere, name it, hey!” Stern yelps out a laugh as Barclay lifts him by his ass and hooks his legs around his hips, that position and the buoyancy offered by the water allowing him to carry him over to the nearest patch of shore. Barclay sets him down carefully, waits for him to toss his boxers aside before pouncing on him. Stern whimpers and bites at his lips as they kiss, hips moving up and down in the air between them.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of you.” He presses his fingers against Sterns dick, rolling his thumb along it in a way that makes Stern dig his nails into his shoulder. When he slips two fingers in Stern gasps, sits up on his elbow so he can resume stroking Barclays cock.

“Good?”

“Yes, Barclay, so good, oh god.” His grip on him tightens and he adds twists to his upstrokes.

“Fuck, that’s it. Goddamn, you look so good getting fucked open like this”

Stern moans, licks his lips as he opens his legs further so Barclay can add another finger.

“Oh, you like that don’t you, dirty boy? That why you’re trying to get my cum all over that gorgeous stomach?”

“Uh huh, so much, god, love it when you talk like that.”

A growling laugh leaves Barclays chest at that.

“Then make me cum on you, babe, c’mon, ohhhhshit!” His hand tenses inside Stern as he cums across his stomach and chest, and for a moment all he can do is marvel at the absolute mess of a man beneath him and how much he wants him.

And then he drops down to kiss him, hand fucking him relentlessly and mouth swallowing up his cries and then fingers dig into his hair and shoulder and the movements of Sterns hips die down to small pulses.  He slips his hand out, presses soft kisses against Sterns cheek and neck as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting mosquito bites in places I don’t want them.”

“Can’t have that.” He slowly sits up, Stern mirroring the motion, “and I got you sticky again. Sorry.”

“I have no regrets, that was completely worth it. Although…” he gazes at the water, then back at Barclay somewhat flirtatiously, “I wouldn’t mind another dip in the lake.”

Barclay smiles, stands, offers his hand and begins guiding Stern back into the water as the stars wink happily above them.

[k-knightt-blog]

I barley knew I had skin before I met you

Title: I barely knew I had skin before I met you

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Chapters: 2/?

Wordcount: 1,199

Summary: You are Susanne Bier’s, the director of Night Manager, on-set assistant who falls in love with her boss’ leading man. Now, why would you do something so stupid? 

Part 1

You didn’t know what to write back, a dark red blush stained your cheeks, you could feel it. How could this man make you blush so hard it burned by just sending you a text message? Never in your life had someone ever had this effect on you and it was scary. You had always been extremely cautious about the concept of love, knowing how much it could ruin someone. So you didn’t let yourself fall in love, it was painful enough just listening to your friends' endless miseries regarding boyfriends and girlfriends.

How stupid you thought, how stupid to give such leverage to someone. Someone who would use your secrets and doubts against you. God, you really were cynical. On one drunken night, your friend Tegan had slurred something that would stick to your head like glue, she said ”The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.” That girl really did know her Chuck Palahniuk by heart, even after 7 tequila shots. Why had Tom managed to seep through your barriers?

You took some deep breathes and begun writing a reply, but in truth, you were also embarrassed about crying in front of Tom. You were usually happy, quick-witted and ”mysterious” as Tom had noted the first time the two of you met. You weren’t the one who cried, and you found it embarrassing as hell.

”I wasn’t sleeping, but I've slept all right nearly all night. Thanks for your concern, I’ll certainly be down for dinner and I’ll run a lap or two around you if that’s what you call fun.” Is that funny? Will he find that funny? You were mentally slapping yourself for the fact that this man was making you nervous. Staring at the text and reading it a few times over you decide to cut your brain off for a second and just send it. You two are friends and there’s nothing that has changed... just the fact that you are falling in love with hi–“shut up Y/N!” You yell out to yourself. Just a half of a second later your phone chimed again. Tom had replied, a smile spread over your face as you read it, “That’s the girl I know! I’ll have some coffee ready for you at 6 pm/ Tom”

You awoke with a jerk, damn, you must have fallen asleep. You rub your eyes till you see starts, a habit you hadn’t grown out of. It must have been a good sleep because your head wasn’t aching like it always did when you awoke. What’s the time? You find your phone situated under your pillow, blinking at it you see there’s a missed call from Tom. You figured he had called you since you hadn’t answered his message. Maybe he liked you, that could mean that he liked you right? Or maybe you were being crazy, overreacting, it has to be the latter. It is 10 to six.

You nearly fall over as you try to leave your bed, blankets wrapped around your body made it hard to balance on your feet. You truly were a tousled mess. Shaking yourself free from the fabric prison you go rummaging around in your suitcase. You never bothered to unpack your bags no matter how long you were going to stay somewhere. You picked out a casual outfit, still catered to your personal style that you were known for.

Tom once said that you looked like an art student, which you took as a compliment. In which you also made a point that you nearly had been an art student in your younger days. Which Elizabeth Debicki heard and chimed in “Younger days? You mean yesterday?” We all laughed and you remember playfully hitting her arm. You were one of the youngest members of the inner circle of the crew or so to speak.

Looking yourself in the mirror you let out a sign, the bags under your eyes has improved but you still look tired. You reach for your makeup bag and feel after the forever forgiving concealer. You applied the skin tone liquid in triangles under your eyes, like in the makeup tutorials on youtube. You combed your hair and fluffed up a bit. You also added mascara and eyeliner on the corner of your eyes to avoid people mistaking you for a zombie. With that, you were out the door.

People were running around in the lobby of the hotel when you arrived downstairs. They must have wrapped up for the day because it was hectic, lights, props and people in a steady stream in and out of doors. You got a few “Hellos” as you wandered through the corridor to the cafeteria, which you answered with a nod and a smile. Usually, you’d stop and talk to them but you were almost late for dinner with Tom.

You got a warm feeling in your body as you quickly walked along. You two won’t be alone though, no, all the actors and the AD’s will probably also be there. At the end of the corridor that broke off into two large rooms, you see Tom. He’s standing to the left of the double doors leading into the cafeteria, he’s looking down on his phone so he doesn’t see you walked up to him. He looks gorgeous. He’s wearing his own clothes, not Jonathan Pine’s. There’s so much noise around him so he doesn’t hear you right next to him.

Your smile is wide as you casually lean against the door frame as well. “Reading something interesting?” You say loudly enjoying his sudden jolt, fumbling to keep his hands on his phone. One of his hands rise up to his chest, his grin is wide when he realises it’s you who scared the living daylights out of him. ”Y/N! Why do you always have to scare me?” You grin right back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Always? I think I have managed to scare you twice now.” He moved slightly closer to you and archers his right brow. “It’s definitely more than twice and you know it.” 

You blush a little, and look down at your feet, you notice that he isn’t in possession of any coffee. “You promised me coffee.” You said giving him a subtle wink. He gives you a toothy smile that could literally light a goddamn city, “Knowing you would scare me I left your mug at the table, I wouldn’t like to be responsible for pouring scolding hot liquid on the both of us.” You smile, shifting your feet a little, god he can be so silly. “Liar. You didn’t know I was going to scare you. I’m a master scarer.” He rubbed his hands over his dark stubble, smirking. “So you admit it? You like scaring me?” Suddenly there’s a tension between the two of you. Before you are able to answer him, he speaks, “Come along, dinner is waiting,” You fake cough and he laughs, “And coffee, of course.” He opens the door for you, walking slightly behind you, his hand ghosting at the small of your back.

[undindjarin-archive]

❤️

i love u

If there’s one thing Bucky hates more than watching and worrying over Steve being sick. Its admitting he’s sick and needs attention.

Especially when it reaches the point of being obvious because Bucky doesn’t take it easy when he starts to feel awful until he’s as sick as a dog.

Today was one of those days.

Bucky could tell he was going to have trouble hiding it from Steve the moment he woke up, already having to breath through his mouth and sweating through his shirt. “Oh god…” barely escapes past his lips as his voice cracks, his throat burning.

Sitting up in his bed, reaching over for his phone and checking the time, his stomach drops at the time: 10:47 am. If he had wanted to have a fighting chance at saying he wasn’t sick, it had gone out the window by checking the time. Steve’s usually up at the butt crack of dawn, but Bucky doesn’t usually waste a day in bed, not unless they both do it together.

Letting out a soft sigh and dropping his phone back down, he rubs his face as he climbs out of bed, a throbbing headache ensuing as he gets to his feet. Taking a moment to steady himself, he takes in a breath before heading for the bathroom.

At the very least maybe a shower would make him feel somewhat better.

Heading out into the hall and listening for Steve, a frown forms on his face as only silence reaches his ears. He wasn’t in their room with him, and as he checks the kitchen first, he finds a note waiting for him on the fridge.

☆ Buck,

Went on a morning run with Sam before heading over to the children’s hospital for the day, take care and I’ll see you tonight for dinner.

Love, 

Steve ♡

Another sigh releasing tension Bucky wasn’t even aware he was holding, he lays the note down on the counter before heading back to take a shower like he’d originally planned. At the very least he didn’t see why it was such a big deal to meet Steve for dinner, but he could worry about that later.

However taking a shower probably wasn’t his best idea. Standing in a bathroom full of steam, already feeling dizzy and congested, where it didn’t even help clear his head, but perhaps made it worse.

By the time he was out of the shower and dressed in sweats, it was already nearing noon. Had he really been that out of it that he’d spent nearly an hour in the shower? Well, he wouldn’t put it past him. At least Steve wasn’t there to see him stumbling through the day when he’d rather climb back into bed.

Hell, he might just do that until tonight after he eats something, just to have something in his stomach. Heading back towards the kitchen, looking through the fridge, the pantry, even the cabinets and finding nothing appetizing, or even thinking he could keep down. Groaning as he searches through the last set of cabinets, his eyes catch the box of cereal stuffed in the back of it.

Reaching back and grabbing the box of sugary cereal, he pulls it out to find his eyes tearing up and lips pouting. Good lord, why was he such a baby when he was sick and alone, and yet still didn’t want Steve there to take care of him. However, at the very least, the cereal pulls at his heart strings, he knows that Steve doesn’t love overy sugar things, not all the time at least.

Taking the box of cereal and heading to settle into the couch, he wraps a blanket around his shoulders as he turns the tv on. Opening the box of cereal and turning it to a movie, one he doesn’t even make it back from the commercial break from as he’s already drifting off to sleep once more, even the 11 hours he slept last night not being enough to keep up with how exhausted he really is.

-

Flinching at the knocking on the door, Bucky groans as he rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up more around him and knocking the abandoned box of cereal on the floor. “Go avay, Steeb!” he mutters tiredly, only on the edge of consciousness before where he is hits him. Shooting up and everything going black for a moment, he squints in the dark towards the clock to find it nearing 9 pm.

Shit. He had missed going to dinner with Steve.

Turning towards the door as it was being unlocked, a frown was already forming on his face as Steve walked through the door, all done up in a suit…. Was today something more than Bucky had realized?

“Bucky, I thought we were going to meet at 7-” Steve pauses on his way in, taking in the sight of Bucky. And one look was all it took for pity to form in his eyes and his whole demeanor changing.

Not having any of that, Bucky takes a pillow from the couch and flings it at him. “What? What aboub it Steeb?” Even the huff didn’t sound as threatening as Bucky hoped, now only earning a chuckle instead of a pitiful look.

“Oh, baby. Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Steve asks as he takes the hit of the pillow, taking off his shoes and closing the door behind him. Watching as he heads over to the couch and sits at the other end of it, calming oceans stare at him as the fight quickly deflates from Bucky’s shoulders.

“I’b not sick.” However the answer was accompanied by a cough, and that by no means helped prove his point of not being sick. If anything, it only made Steve look at him with all the more love in his gaze.

“Sweetheart, you could have told me, we can reschedule our anniversary dinner, it’s no- Bucky?” The immediate shift in Steve’s tone, the way he scoots closer and is immediately cupping his cheek, a worried frown pulling at his face. Bucky hates it.

What he hates more though, is himself. He had missed their anniversary dinner. One Bucky had been looking forward to for weeks and had done most of the planning himself. Goddamn him. Goddamn being sick. Goddamn the tears filling his eyes and falling down his cheeks.

“I- I’b so sorry, Stevie,” his voice cracks on the very first syllable and then the tears fall harder. All he had wanted was to treat his best guy right. He couldn’t even do that right. Hell, now he’s the one sick after all the times in the past, before Steve was given the serum. He had planned a whole night, more than just dinner, and now he’d messed it up and missed it, all because he was feeling just a little under the weather. A sob catching in his throat, he shakes his head before lowering it on Steve’s shoulder as he guides his head down, pulling him into his arms.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I’m sorry.” Bucky can’t utter out more than an apology, a weak one at that.

However, Steve doesn’t seem to think he needs one. “Bucky, hey, it’s okay, shhh. I don’t need any fancy dinner, or night out, or anything special to know that you love me. All I need is you. Because you’re the thing that makes me happy, Buck. You. Nothing else.”

Going to mutter out another apology, it gets caught in his throat as Steve presses the back of his hand to Bucky’s forehead. Wiping hair out of his face, Steve presses a soft kiss to where his hand had been. “You’re burning up, let’s get you to bed.”

Guilt still clawing at his chest, Bucky shakes his head, a sputtered breath escaping past his lips. “Stevie, please-” that’s as far as he gets before Steve is shushing him softly.

Lifting his chin so they’re eye level, Steve puts a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, massaging gently. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Waiting for Bucky to speak now, he gets no answer more than looking towards Steve’s arms, exhaustion lingering in his eyes.

Opening his arms up to him and letting Bucky fling himself into them, he holds him close and pulls the blanket back over his shoulders, letting him get the rest of his tears out.

Lord only knows how many times Bucky has let himself fall apart in front of Steve.

“Just let me take care of you, Buck. You’re okay. I love you so much sweetheart.” Running a hand up and down his back, placing a kiss to his hair, Steve holds him close. Bucky does nothing more than bury his head into the crook of Steve’s neck, letting himself be held.

At the very least until he calms down enough and is nearly passed out in his arms.

Gently guiding him back against the couch, startling him awake, Steve gently cups his cheek. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m going to get you some socks, have you eaten anything today?”

Taking a moment to let what Steve had said sink in, Bucky shakes his head before glancing to the floor where the box of cereal had fallen. Following his gaze, Steve picks it up before standing, “I’ll make you some soup, you stay put.”

Watching Steve head off down the hall before returning with a pair of fuzzy socks to put on his feet, a blush fills his cheeks, not that one could tell, he was already burning up, and a light grin settles upon his lips.

Wiggling his toes before Steve heads off to the kitchen, he settles back into the couch, listening as Steve works.

It’s not even ten minutes later when Steve returns to the couch, bowl of soup in hand, to find Bucky out cold once more.

Placing the soup on the coffee table and settling on the couch beside him, he pulls Bucky back into his arms. Letting him adjust and snuggle against him. “My, steebie…” A soft smile pulling up on Steve’s face, he pulls the blanket around Bucky more and brushes his hair out of his face once more. Pressing a light kiss to his hair, gently rubbing his back, Steve couldn’t imagine spending his evening any other way.

Especially with the way Bucky wraps his whole body around his as if he was a koala, a small grin on his face. If snuggling up to Steve helped alleviate his pain, then by all means Steve would stay and never move again.

Bucky had done so much for him when he was sick, hell, Steve had been a nightmare. But that never stopped Bucky from caring for him.

“You and me. We’re together ‘till the end of the line, pal.” pressing a final kiss to Bucky’s temple, leaning back into the couch, it’s not long before he’s asleep too. There isn’t anywhere Steve would rather be, because home to him isn’t a place. It’s a person. Bucky has always been, and always will be his home.

[hesthekingofsomewhere]

Yet Another Chatfic pt 5

part 1 I 2 I 3 I 4

this is a long chapter! and im posting it ahead of schedule! bc I love yall!

please leave comments! likes! I love feedback!

Also! this chapter has a peek into sarah, finch, and alberts groupchat

Queens of New York

8:15

santagay: say yeet if you made it home alive

DJacobs: Yeet!

SJ420: yeet

richbitch: yeet

Spot8365631: yeet

respecs: yeet

albiehadalittlelamb: yeet

WhereforeArtThou: yeet

noteventhatshort: yeet

SJ420: wheres finchy boy?

littlebirdie: still at their apt

littlebirdie: oh right

littlebirdie added crispycrutch to Queens of New York

PM with albiehadalittlelamb

santagay: al, finch slept over

albiehadalittlelamb: yeah ik?

santagay: i hate to say this and be that guy, but al, he slept in crutchies room

santagay: ik whats its like to be cheated on, and i never thought i would be having this conversation about finch but I dont want you to get hurt.

albiehadalittlelamb: ill ask finch, im sure nothing happened

PM with littlebirdie

albiehadalittlelamb: did my fake bf cheat on me?

littlebirdie: …

albiehadalittlelamb: GET SOME BOIII

littlebirdie: lmao so your not mad?

albiehadalittlelamb: why would I be mad? even if we were dating id be chill about this, ik you have a huge thing for crutchie and lord knows youd never get any action from me

albiehadalittlelamb: the only problem is that jack thinks your cheating on me

littlefinch: ok so should we fake-break up? cuz i kind of dont want to, but if jack thinks im cheating on you…

albiehadlittlelamb: i have a plan

albiehadalittlelamb: does crutchie know that were fake dating?

littlebirdie: ye, theres no way i would even be allowed into his room if we were actually dating

albiehadalittlelamb: ok but heres the thing, if jack thinks you cheated on me, then race probably thinks the same

littlebirdie: oooHHHHHH

littlebirdie: so now im also fake cheating on you so that race will feel bad and fall for you and your sad situation

albiehadalittlebird: exactly!

littlebirdie: nice! what could possibly go wrong

Queens of New York

respecs: so why is this chat called queens of new york

inyourFACEtrack: well you see…

inyourFACEtrack: twas all hallows eve 2017

inyourFACEtrack: and 7 of us showed up to kaths halloween as drag queens completely independantly

noteventhatshort: and sarah kath jack and i were dressed as disney princesses

respecs: thats beautiful

respecs: and here i thought it was bc ?everyone? here is lbgtq

santagay: well if you think about it, its both

richbitch: when was the last time we even had a straight in this chat?

crispycrutch: i think  we had morris in the chat for a week when he was dating romeo

santagay: oh god i forgot about that

SJ420: does he even count as a straight?

inyourFACEtrack: well there was a reason he was only in the chat for a week so…

santagay: true, speaking of which

santagay: specs, if you ever hurt romeo, we will find out where you live and steal all of you soap lest you ever get a date again

respecs: noted?

SJ420: he gave me the same threat when I started dating kath lmao

santagay: it worked didnt it?

SJ420: im hate you

santagay: you loved me once loser

WhereforeArtThou: oh shit he went there

inyourFACEtrack: oooooooooooo

crispycrutch: ??????

SJ420: once upon a time i thought i was a het, and then i dated jack for like 2 months

SJ420: and 90% of our relationship was checking out pretty girls together

SJ420: so i figured i should date those pretty girls

noteventhatshort: BIG MOOD

SJ420: for the record the other 10% of the relationship was jack checking out “cute” boys and me being like eh

santagay: and herre i thought you were just trying to stop me from being jealous

SJ420: jack at one point i kissed another girl in front of you and you did not care

noteventhatshort: AHHH

inyourFACEtrack: OOOF

richbitch: AN ICON

santagay: ok well

SJ420: don’t even try bud

DJacobs: That’s my sister!!!!!

santagay: but at least you didnt hide it

santagay: at least you werent kissing people behind my back like SOME people in this chat

SJ420: ????

Spot8365631: i thought you were over that

santagay: i am i just need to have moral high ground over someone

inyourFACEtrack: wait what

noteventhatshort: is this chat just stories of jack getting cheated on now?

richbitch: im living for this

richbitch: jack cant keep a man nor woman

noteventhatshort: but whats this about spot cheating on jack?

santagay: he BROKE my FRAGILE 15 y/o HEART

santagay: but spottie was too cool, lived too fast, couldnt be tied down to one man

Spot8365631: also david was a much better kisser

SJ420: OH SHIT PLOT TWIST

richbitch: CALLED OUT

inyourFACEtrack: 911? theres been a murder?

DJacobs: This…. is true.

inyourFACEtrack: THE LEGEND HIMSELF SPEAKS

respecs: i am living for the drama in this chat

crispycrutch: were kind of a mess tbh

respecs: i understand and completely respect that

inyourFACEtrack: you reSPECt that?

respecs: haha very funny not like thats my goddamn username or anything

Spot8365631: roasted

inyourFACEtrack: bitch

inyourFACEtrack: YO JACK ROMEO, GOT MY MFN 29TH

santagay: fuck offfffff

WhereforeArtThou: this bet is unfair

WhereforeArtThou: im only attracted to one gender, thats less than half the people to ask

santagay: dude ur still winning

WhereforeArtThou: yeah but its a lot more work

inyourFACEtrack: i only have 1 girls number, i think its p even

santagay: this seems like something you should have considered when we started

WhereforeArtThou: ok but consider this

WhereforeArtThou: i didnt

inyourFACEtrack: ok but consider this

inyourFACEtrack: ur a dumbass

WhereforeArtThou: strong words coming from a guy who threw a wii remote out the window

noteventhatshort: fight fight fight fight

inyourFACEtrack: my embarrassments are not ur entertainment smalls

noteventhatshort: ur embarrassments are my only entertainment what r u talking about

Spot8365631: also everything you do is embarrassing

inyouFACEtrack: i feel betrayed

santagay: you should

santagay: i once saw u put hot chocolate mix in oj

inyourFACEtrack: it tastes like a terrys chocolate orange i stand by my choices

crispycrutch: you snorted mr noodles seasoning bc spot told you to

inyourFACEtrack: and i got 20$ for it

Spot8365631: u didnt “””get”””” 20$ ur debt to me was just slightly reduced

inyourFACEtrack: EITHER WAY

crispycrutch: once i watched u drop a spoon into a pot of boiling water and stick ur hand in to get it

inyourFACEtrack: i think ur point has been made, thnk u crutchie

Spot8365631: please do not stop, hes had it coming

crispycrutch: i will stop only bc i value my safety and so i still have receipts for the future

inyourFACEtrack: oh god

inyourFACEtrack: why did i think it was a good idea to live with you

crispycrutch: bc you love me and i contribute to the rent

inyourFACEtrack: touche

crispycrutch: besides, i would have dirt on you regardless

crispycrutch: i have seen each and every one of you do stupid stuff, no one is safe

inyourFACEtrack: mooooom crutchies being meannnn

DJacobs: Crutchie, please delete your blackmail.

crispycrutch: how can i delete it when its in my brain

santagay: i have never been more scared of crutchie

SJ420: crutchie is my idol

crispycrutch: that does not make you safe my friend

SJ420: honestly at this point you could reveal anything about me and i would not care

SJ420: i have reached a god status where nothing you say could possibly embarrass me

richbitch: im so in love with you

SJ420: love you too babe

PM with SJ420

richbitch: ik youre in the next room but i dont want dave to hear, but I got a dinner reservation for two tomorrow at 7 and was wondering if you would like to join me

SJ420: i mean of course, but why are you asking me like this

richbitch: because

richbitch: also you should wear that dress you got for christmas

SJ420: ok?

More Than Just Cigars

SJ420: kath is acting weird

albiehadalittlelamb: what kind of weird

albiehadalittlelamb: like “i just lost a lot of money” weird

albiehadalittlelamb: “i just took a bunch of acid” weird?

littlebirdie: oh no is it “i just slept with jack” weird?!

SJ420: oh god no

SJ420: she texted me and asked me on a date

SJ420: i asked her why and she said because

littlebirdie: !!!!!!!!!

littlebirdie: DID SHE ASK YOU TO WEAR SOMETHING SPECIFIC

SJ420: ye, a dress from christmas

albiehadalittlelamb: OH MYYYYY GODDDDDDDD

littlebirdie: GIRL

SJ420: what????

littlebirdie: jfc ur blind

albiehadalittlelamb: if u havent caught on yet we cant morally help u srry

SJ420: GUYS PLEASE

littlebirdie: nope

albiehadalittlelamb: have fun on ur date tho

PM with santagay

albiehadalittlelamb: oh yeah finch did not, in fact cheat on me

albiehadalittlelamb: he was just making up with crutchie last night, they had a fight

santagay: and u trust finch in this

albiehadalittlelamb: ofc, ive known finch a long time, he would never

santagay: ok if you insist, i just dont want you to get hurt

albiehadalittlelamb: thanks jack

Queens of New York

littlebirdie: anyone else just, super glad that theyre gay?

littlebirdie: bc thats such an important feeling

DJacobs: Me too, Finch

Spot8365631: rt

SJ420: rt

noteventhatshort: rt

WhereforeArtThou: rt

albiehadalittlelamb: rt

santagay: rt but bi

inyourFACEtrack: rt but bi

richbitch: rt but bi

respecs: rt but bi

crispycrutch: rt but pan

littlebirdie has changed Queens of New York to Queers of New York

inyourFACEtrack: helllllll yeah

Spot8365631: no cussing, my mom checks my phone

inyourFACEtrack: oh my goodness im so sorry spot

inyourFACEtrack: ill delete the message right away

DJacobs: What?

DJacobs: Why does your mom check your messages, Spot?

DJacobs: You’re 23 and moved out?

DJacobs: Also I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you swear in this chat.

DJacobs: This is a meme, isn’t it?

santagay: u got there on ur own!

santagay: im so proud of u!

DJacobs: Thank you, Jack.

inyourFACEtrack: why does it feel like everyone is in loving and healthy relationships except me?

PM with inyourFACEtrack

Spot8365631: wow rude

inyourFACEtrack: were not in a relationship remember?

Queers of New York

DJacobs: Jack and I are not dating.

santagay: dude, were mom and dad, i think that’s close enough

respecs: question, in this mom/dad thing, who is everyone else

santagay: kath and sarah are the aunts obvi

inyourFACEtrack: smalls, romeo, crutchie, al, and i are their kids

inyourFACEtrack: finch used to be one of the kids but now hes dating al so that seems weird

inyourFACEtrack: i guess hes sarahs kid now?

SJ420: awwww i love my new son

respecs: what about spot?

santagay: hes kind of… his own entity… like an estranged uncle or neighbor that spends more time in ur house than his own

Spot8365631: rude but accurate

santagay: thats my name dont wear it out

Spot8365631: i hate you sm

santagay: then y r u always in my house???

Spot8365631: this metaphor has gone to far. blocked deleted and unfollowed.

santagay: honestly? thats fair

santagay: i respect ur choices

Spot8365631: sounds fake but ok

PM with Spot8365631

inyourFACEtrack: in a beautiful twist of fate, crutchie jack are going to see a movie with davey and kath, and im home alone with a meat lovers pizza on its way

Spot8365631: ok?

inyourFACEtrack: would you care to join me?

Spot8365631: no, sounds too much like a date, and were not in a relationship right?

inyourFACEtrack: dude, were friends, sharing a pizza, and maybe having anal sex

inyourFACEtrack: thats not a date its just what we do

Spot8365631: still no, i have to finish a foreign policy essay for tomorrow

inyourFACEtrack: oh ok

[blahandwhatever]

Yesterday was my last day in Naperville. I didn’t feel as bad, and tried to enjoy what I could of what remained. I took the opportunity of having all the ingredients available to make some French toast for the first time in forever. I went on my first and only bike ride, which was alright - there still wasn’t much sunshine, my mind wasn’t in the most pleasant place (should’ve brought music), and I didn’t have the stamina to go very far, this being my first time on a bike this year. I finished up some cleaning, washed the cat fountain, changed back the light bulbs, said goodbye to the sights, and packed my copious baggage back up. I thought about staying another night to get in another bike ride in today’s nice weather, or visit some places I hadn’t gotten around to, but the desire to go home was stronger - and the spare room bed was uncomfortable.

My parents came home in the evening. It was unusual for their presence to make me feel better than my brother’s. We talked a bit, I ate the dinner they’d brought me, and I finished packing. I couldn’t work up the courage to say everything I would’ve liked to say to my brother - it all just felt so vulnerable - but I told him I wished we could’ve spent more time together, and asked him to be more considerate toward our parents. I have a number of ideas regarding the reason for his coldness, and I think it’s likely a mix of a few things, including just being in this transition-to-adulthood phase of wanting to feel independent and separate from his family, which is something I hope he’ll find more of a balance with, and I hope that won’t take too long; right now it kind of feels like a toddler saying no to everything just because he can. I do also worry about him having some kind of resentment or insecurity with regard to me; I don’t think he has enough perspective on our age difference, or how much of a mess I’ve actually been, or the fact that I’ve had a lot of time to learn and improve at a lot of things. At some point, I really need to make these things clear to him. I’ll probably want to put together some thoughts and resources for him before he goes to college. I’m always better with these things in writing.

Anyway, I finally made it home past 10 PM. Slowly dragged my ridiculous overload of stuff back home in a few trips. In retrospect, it’s clear I could’ve done with much less clothing, and probably a little less food.

The place smelled kind of bad when I got here - possibly cigarette smoke coming through again. The AC had started leaking again after a two-month break - maybe it’ll finally get fixed for good, which has been procrastinated on so goddamn much. But all in all, I don’t feel I have things too bad here, especially having seen the issues my parents have dealt with in their house. Aside from the little stretch last summer, nothing too dramatic really happens; my 90s appliances still work just fine, and my bug situation isn’t really worse than theirs, it just tends to feel worse because I’m confined in a smaller space with the fuckers.

I was so exhausted. I managed to eat the vegetables I hadn’t gotten around to earlier and then went to sleep with my makeup on for the first time in years, teeth unbrushed and brewed tea gone to waste. I slept long as fuck and it still wasn’t enough. There’s an avalanche of stuff on the floor I have yet to go through, having unpacked only the essentials. I managed to go to a store and do a couple of loads of laundry. I also tried downloading and using TumblThree to save my Tumblr Likes, but for some reason it downloaded a fuckton of random unrelated images in addition to mine, so I scrapped that. I’ve been worried by the sight of my number of Likes gradually dwindling lately, which never used to happen. Maybe some people have deleted their blogs - but it feels frustratingly arbitrary to lose things because of that when the vast majority had been reblogged from other sources to begin with, and again, I don’t think this used to happen. I guess reblogging things is more reliable. For now, I need to find a good way to save this stuff before I lose more of it. Meanwhile, I look back at my original blog and think back to those magical Tumblr days, and how difficult it has been to recapture that. I haven’t been browsing Tumblr much lately, but it really can be hard to find the right mix of blogs to follow, especially when favorites disappear or stop posting (or change their content drastically).

All in all, it’s good to be home, but it’s still hard to feel satisfied with this neighborhood after spending a while in Naperville, and hard not to miss my kitty after spending a while with his sweet self.

[benbarnesfanforever]

Pen Pals

At the request of @moviegirl50, here is a fluffy story about the reader and Ben as pen pals.  Although Ben has lived in LA for some time now, he is living in London in this story. 

You seal your letter after the last lick.  You had a bit of hesitation as you held the envelope in front of the large blue mail bin. This letter was much different than the mail that you usually sent to Ben’s fan club.  Every month or so, you sent a letter to Ben’s fan club requesting a photo of your favorite character, which was all of them to be truthful. You had autographed photos of Prince Caspian, King Caspian, Dorian Gray, Tom Ward, Nick Tortano, John Whittaker and Alejandro just to name a few.  However, you never thought in million years that you would receive something extra special in return, a letter that would change your life forever.          January 10, 2014

 c/o Creative Artists Management 1st Floor 55-59 Shaftesbury Avenue London, W1D 6LD United Kingdom

  Dear Ben,

Thank you for responding to my snail mail and for sending me so many autographed photos over the years.  I have been a loyal fan of yours for some time now, six years to be exact!  I'm sure you probably receive thousands of letters per day, but I hope you read this letter.  Even if I never hear back from you, I want to let you know what an influential person that you have been in my life.  

You support a number of charities and I wanted to tell you a little bit about mine, Women Equality Goals (WEG).  I coach young girls around the country in the United States regarding abuse, discrimination and gender equality.  I'd like to expand my coaching abroad, however, I don't have the funds nor the sponsors to support that goal.  I've never asked anyone to sponsor me before, but with your knowledge and support, I believe that we would change the lives of so many and influence gender equality worldwide.  As a personal victim of sexual assault, I owe it to women and girls around the world to make a change.  I'm a small person with very big dreams!  I hope you can spread the word of my dream to make a change.  

Thank you for your love and support.

Love,

(Y/N)

After proofreading your letter over 500 times, and having your best friend look over it 500 more times, you finally gained enough courage to drop the letter in the mail.

“Oh for crying out loud, (Y/N), just drop the goddamn letter in the mail bin.” Your best friend growls who was standing behind you near the large blue mail bin outside of the San Francisco post office.  

“Do you think I have enough stamps?” You ask in concern.

“Yes, for the fiftieth time! YES!” Joanne snarled.

You smirk.

“Ok, Joanne.  Just give me a minute.”  

“I’ve given you sixty! No drop the goddamn letter so we can get the hell outta here and have dinner already.”

Your hands tremble as you release the letter into the mail bin.  You watch the letter drop down to what looked like an endless water well.  The letter was long gone and will be on its way to London tomorrow morning.  

OH SHIT

“Well, I put myself out there.  Let’s see if he responds.” You say to yourself.

You go to your mailbox after you return home from work. After months of frantically driving home from work and running straight to the mailbox to see if you received anything back from Ben and constantly being disappointed, you finally came to the conclusion that you probably would never hear from him.  Besides, how many celebrities really read their fan mail? Don’t they hire folks to read and sort through their mail for them anyway?  You had given up all hopes that Ben read your letter and would sponsor your charity for you to coach women and girls abroad.

Until one special day….

You had a stash of mail awaiting you because you had no time to check it recently due to your crazy work schedule and the time you invested into your charity.  Coaching your girls was the only thing that you looked forward to, especially after a long day at the office of just processing the same old boring insurance claims.  You set the mail atop of your black kitchen counter-top as you filled the stainless steel tea kettle with water.  It was already after 8 pm, and by now, you hadn’t eaten dinner but didn’t really care about having a meal.  All you wanted to do was have a nice sip of Tulsi tea and relax watching your favorite tv shows.  A chocolate croissant sounded delightful with your tea, so that is what you took out of the pantry.  You place the croissant in the toaster and look through your stack of mail while you wait for the water of your tea to boil and for the croissant to toast.  Your hands began to tremble as you got to the third piece of mail, which was a standard letter addressed from the UK, not large in size or bubble wrapped like the other fan mail you’ve received from Creative Artist Management.  This time, the letter had a hand written return address with a name you were stunned to see.

Ben Barnes

Your hands shake more as you try to find your mail opener. You look all through your kitchen drawers and could not locate the damn thing for the life of you.  You rip the mail open, without removing any of Ben’s handwriting on the envelope.

“Oh my GOD!” You say softly as you cover your mouth in disbelief.  You began reading a personalized handwritten letter from Ben that read:

July 14, 2014

8855 South Bay Avenue San Francisco, CA  

Dear (Y/N),

First, I want to thank you for being such a loyal fan of mine for so many years.  I'm touched!

In response to your request for sponsorship of your charity Women Equality Goals (WEG), I would like to partner you up with my really good pal, Emma Watson. She is hosting a campaign in New York City on September 20th at the Headquarters of the United Nations. Emma has researched all the amazing work that you have done so far in your city and would love for you to join the campaign to spread your amazing work abroad.  

Thanks again for making a difference!

x,

BB

When Ben read your letter, he immediately recognized you from previous fan letters that you had written. There was something about you and the way that you wrote that caught Ben’s attention.  He felt an unexplained comfort towards you, especially after reading your last letter and seeing how much you cared for others.  It really touched him and he felt the need to respond, even if it was six months later. 

You stood there for a few minutes, still astounded that you received a letter from Ben Barnes, still astounded that you were invited to meet his pal Emma Watson and partner with her on something that you only dreamed of doing for such a long time now.  You could barely breathe.  

You try to find your phone with your shaky hand to call Joanne, but before you could find it, your phone started ringing, and there you found it inside of the pantry near the tea packets.  

You could barely swipe your iPhone before finally being able to answer it.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” Joanne asks you as she fiddles through her high rise apartment, dropping her keys and purse on the coffee table and kicking her feet up to talk to you.

“Hey.” You respond, still trembling.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)”?

You could barely speak, until you glanced at the letter again and a huge smile spread across your face.

“Joanne, you aren’t gonna believe this!” you blurt out.

“Believe what? That Daenerys decides to remain in Meereen? Did you finally catch up on all the missed GOT episodes?”

You smirk and started grinning.

“No, but thanks for ruining it for me though!”

Joanne chuckles.

“Oh shit, my bad girl, sorry.  So what do you have to tell me?”

You place your tea bag in the coffee mug and pour hot water into it.

“So you’ll never guess who I received a letter from today, or at some point since I never have time to check my mail anymore.”

Joanne sits up in her chair.

“Your bozo ass ex-boyfriend from Virginia?” Joanne snarls.

You laugh as you place your croissant on a plate and make your way to your sofa, your phone held up by your shoulders pressed against your right cheek.

“No.  I received a letter from Ben.”

“Who?”

“Ben! “ You exclaim excitedly.

Joanne scratches her head.

“Ben from the Fisherman’s Warf? Why would he send you a letter?”

You take a bite of your croissant.

“No, not that Ben.”

“Ok, I give up.  Then who?”

You take a deep breath and excel.

“Ben Barnes!”

Joanne stands up for this news, nearly dropping her phone.

“Wait what?!?  You mean Ben Barnes, the actor Ben Barnes?”

“YEESS!!!” you say excitedly, screaming.  

“No FUCKING WAY!” Joanne says, now pacing the hard wood floors of her sixth floor apartment.

You take another bite of your croissant.

“Oh yes, and it’s totally personalized.  He even left an address that does not seem to belong to his fan club.”

“You are SHITTING me!” Joanne says in excitement.  “That’s fucking incredible!  So what did he say in the letter?”

You pull the letter out and began reading it to Joanne.  She is completely blown away and starts screaming, literally dropping her phone.

You both engage in a conversation for hours, talking about what a wonderful human being Ben is to take the time to write you back on a matter that was so important to you.  Not only were you a big fan of Ben’s movies, television series, his modeling and theater productions, you were also a huge fan of Ben personally and his caring nature.  

After two weeks of settling down from receiving the letter from Ben, you decide to write him back to thank him for connecting you with Emma Watson, another person who you truly admired.  As promised, you received an official invitation in the mail to attend the “HeForShe” campaign at the Headquarters of the United Nations.  

What an honor!

You still could not believe that you would be in the presence of other empowering women who would make such a difference, and save someone’s life from abuse, discrimination and inequality.

You place the mail in the large blue bin, this time, with no hesitation.

Ben’s plane landed in London from Utah after wrapping up the final scenes of the Jackie & Ryan. He was exhausted after spending almost three weeks in Utah.  Although Ben was busy filming and was involved in so many other projects and interviews, he was curious to see if he had received anything in the mail from you…the woman who he thought about while filming.

After a long cab ride home, Ben stumbled to his large apartment flat and dropped his bags on the floor.  As tired as he was, he was anxious to check his mail to see if he had received anything from you, the person who had been on his mind for some time now.

There was an overflow of mail stashed away in Ben’s mailbox.  Good thing his fans didn’t have his home address, otherwise, he’d be flooded in mail daily.  Maybe it’s time Ben joined social media?

Ben fiddled through the mail and tossed it across his kitchen counter until he stumbled across your letter.  A gentle and warm smile spread across his handsome face as he hurriedly opened the mail. He plopped down on his grey sofa while gulping down a cold beer.  He grinned from ear to ear as he read your letter.

July 30, 2014

Ben Barnes

111 Oaks Street, #58 Kensington, London SW10 9JA

United Kingdom

Dear Ben,

I hope you are doing well.  I received your letter in the mail a few weeks ago. I have to say, I was completely humbled by receiving it.  You really touched my heart with your true and sincere interest in my charity.  I’ll be honest, never in a million years did I ever expect to hear back from you.  I am so honored!  I know that you are a very busy man, so I will keep this letter short and sweet.

I received the invitation in the mail to attend the “HeForShe” campaign in New York City in September.  I am beyond excited!  I have attached a photo of myself and my girls that I coach.   You have already made a difference in their lives just from your generous efforts.

I will never be able to repay you for what you are about to do for these young women, but if we ever meet in person one day, I would love to treat you to tea and beignets (smile).

Take care,

(Y/N)

Ben smiled as he sat the letter down on his coffee table, when he noticed a photo sticking half way out of the envelope.  He reached for the envelope and pulled out the photo of you, alongside the thirty girls in the photo.  

“She’s beautiful.” Ben said aloud in a soft whisper.  He rubbed his finger gently across your face in the photo.  Although Ben had not met you, he felt an unbelievable connection towards you that surprised him.  He always believed in being friends with someone first before starting a relationship. He was interested in getting to know you better more now than ever.  

After Ben finished his beer, he went straight to his office and began typing you a letter.  He hung your photo on the dart board on his office wall.  He felt good that he could assist you with such a wonderful cause. But he began to develop an interest in you that was deeper than just someone who he could assist. He was interested in getting to know you on a personal level as well.

Ben begin typing immediately.  He wrote so much in his first draft, but hesitated after reading it a few times.

“No, that’s too forward.”

“No, she’ll think I’m a dork.”

“Ok, I think I can send this one.”

Ben printed the letter, sealed the envelope and dropped it in his mailbox that evening.  He obviously wanted you to receive his letter pretty quickly.

“We are here to eliminate all forms of violence against all women and girls in the public and private spheres, including trafficking and sexual and other types of exploitation. We fight for goals like this if for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do. Women deserve fundamental human rights, and the Women Equality Goals (WEG) charity highlights this human responsibility to treat one another with respect and honor.  As the CEO of this charity, I am seeking your assistance in taking this program abroad.”

You stood in the mirror practicing your speech over and over.  Although the HeForShe campaign was still less than two months away, you wanted to ensure that you were prepared, since it would be your first time speaking in front of thousands of people.

You thought about Ben and wished he could read your speech.  If only there was a way that you could contact him to obtain his opinion.

You open your laptop and begin writing a letter to Ben.  You copy your speech into the letter and you seal it with a kiss.  You hadn’t received a response back from Ben from your previous letter, which made you skeptical in sending him another letter.

You go outside to your mailbox to check your mail, and you find a letter from Ben, which looked like it was sent to another address, returned to the sender, and then sent back to you.  

Wow, the letter was postmarked within a week of you sending him a response from the last letter.  

Your hands shake as you hold the new letter addressed to Ben and the letter you received from him. You drop the new letter in the return mail box, as you finally purchased stamps and felt much more confident sending letters now.

Your hands tremble as you make your way back into your home.   You rip open the letter as you plop down on your sofa to read it.

 August 7, 2014

8855 South Bay Avenue San Francisco, CA  

Dear (Y/N),

How are you?  I hope all is well in your neck of the woods.  I am sure you’re keeping very busy with your charity and coaching.   I wanted to thank you for sending me the amazing photo of you and your girls.  Would you mind if I shared this with Emma Watson?  She has already told me how excited she is to have you on the “HeForShe” campaign.  I am thrilled for you!  I wish I could join you all, but unfortunately I will be unavailable and filming.  Do have a splendid time.  I look forward to hearing about it.  

Cheers!

BB

Although Ben’s letters were short and sweet, the fact that he took the time to write you back right away meant a lot to you.  You call Joanne and she is completely blown away by yet another letter that you received from Ben.

“Oh bullshit (Y/N), he’s totally into you!” Joanne says as she shoves a handful of multigrain pita chips into her mouth.

You laugh.

“No, he’s just very happy that I am leading such a wonderful charity and trying to expand it.  Ben is a strong believer in gender equality and he is just excited to help me take my charity to the next level.”

“Believe what you want girlfriend, but no man is going to respond to woman that quickly if he ain’t interested.  I mean hell, did he write the letter back to you as soon as he received and read yours?”

You smile.  It would appear that Ben wrote you back immediately due to the fact that you mailed your letter on July 30th and he dated his letter August 7th.  

“Naahh, I am not even celebrity material.  There is no way Ben could be interested in a fan.” You thought to yourself.

“(Y/N)?’ Joanne grumbles. “Are you still there?”

You wake up from your daydream of meeting Ben, possibly dating Ben.

“Oh yes, sorry.  I’m here. But no, this is strictly business and I am sure Ben has women falling to his feet in every town he visits.”

Joanne smirks through the phone.

“But those women aren’t you, (Y/N).  Trust me, the man wants you. Mark my words.  Does he even know what you look like?”

You smile even more.

“Well, I did send him a photo of me and girls during our mission trip to Mexico this year.”

Joanne’s eyes widen.

“AAAHH!  Case closed.  When you marry Ben, I’m your maid of honor.  I already called it.”

“Oh stop it, Joanne. You’re wrong and I’m not even going down that path.  My focus is to get my girls the help they need and grow my charity abroad.”

“Oh yeah, it’s perfect! You’ll end up in London with Ben. You guys will have beautiful babies!” Joanne screams excitedly.

“Ok, you’re crazy.” You say as you get off your sofa to get yourself something to eat.

“I’m telling you, I know my gut feeling and I have a strong feeling about this one.” Joanne insists.

“Sure Miss Chloe the Psychic.”  You snarl. “Anyway, I need to get back to practicing my speech.  Dinner tomorrow night at the Warf?”

“Same time, different day. Toodles chickie.”

You hang up from Joanne and you hold the letter against your chest smiling up at the ceiling.

You and Ben wrote to one another every chance you could.  You were at the post office at least two or three times a month. Ben’s letters were very sweet, and they grew longer as the time went on. You both shared information on where you grew up, your childhood, your personal interests, your goals for the future, your likes, your dislikes.  You even came to a point where you discussed your previous relationships.

It was a week away until you would fly to New York City for the HeForShe campaign.  You expressed how excited and nervous you were to campaign your charity in front of such a large crowd, so Ben asked in his latest letter if he could call you to help you prepare.  You sent the letter exactly one week ago today, giving Ben your phone number. This made you even more nervous because it would be the first time that you would hear Ben’s voice on the phone and talk to him personally.

Your phone rang.  You look at the caller-ID and it was not Joanne. It was an unusual number with many digits.  It was not a domestic phone number and it looked like an international phone number.

OH GOD, IT’S HIM.

You inhale and exhale before picking up.  

“Hello.”

There is silence.

“Umm, hey, is this (Y/N)?” Ben asks shyly.

You smile widely.

“Yes, who’s calling?” You ask, although you already knew damn well who it was.

“Hey, (Y/N).  It’s Ben, Ben Barnes.” Ben says smiling.

You smile, trying to relax.

“Hey Ben! So great hearing from you.”

“Is this a good time to talk?” Ben asks bashfully.

You hear some noise in the background.

“Yes, sure of course. How about for you? Sounds like you’re in the middle of work?” you ask in concern.

Ben giggles.

“Yes, actually I am in the midst filming the Sons of Liberty in Romania.  Apologies for the background noise.”

Wow, Ben actually made time to call you from Romania while filming the Sons of Liberty?  Your heart began to pound.

“Oh, wow, thank you for making time to call me with your busy schedule.” You say while twisting your long hair.

“No worries, I’m happy to do it and to take a little break.  Besides, it’s really nice to finally hear your voice.” Ben says, his voice sounding a bit deeper and huskier.

You gulp.

“I need some water.” You say to yourself, opening a bottle of water frantically.

“Well, it’s nice to hear your voice too.” You say nervously.

Ben smiles. He could hear the nervousness in your voice, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Hey (Y/N), listen, I’ve only got a few more minutes until we start filming again.  Would you mind if I called you back in a few hours to listen to your speech?  I promise to be all ears then.  I just had to call you in between breaks.  Hearing your voice is refreshing.”

GODDAMN

You gulp again.

“Uuuh, sure.  I’ll be here.  Call me whenever you get a moment.” You say, trying to sound professional.

“Ok, then it’s a date.” Ben says smiling.

DATE? HOLY SHIT!

“Ok, sounds like a date. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.  Talk to you then.”

“Bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

WOW!

Ben telling you that it’s nice to finally hear your voice and that your voice is refreshing was definitely something beyond what you were expecting to hear. Maybe Joanne was right?  But you being the modest person that you are was not going to let a few words that Ben Barnes said to you flatter you into believing that there could be something more to his weekly letters and phone call.  

Until…

Ben called you back in exactly two hours.  You and Ben talked all night long. You only got maybe two hours of sleep that night and had to be at your charity by 6 am.  You were dragging and definitely needed Starbucks.  What helped you get through the day was your conversation with Ben.  He loved your speech and gave you a few pointers.  You both were so comfortable talking to one another that you didn’t even notice the time. Ben was looking forward to calling you again.  He already placed his letter in the mail immediately after hanging up from you. 

You stood in front of the podium, bright lights surrounding you, but dimmed lights spread across the large hall.  You thought about Ben and his words of encouragement as you took the mic.  

“Remember, just be yourself.”

You take a deep breath. You scan the room of complete silence. You close your eyes and pray for confidence, until the words poured out of your mouth like a flowing river.

You receive a standing ovation for our speech.  You look around the room and see tears in the eyes of the UN Women from around the world.

You return back stage and you are greeted by Emma Watson.  

��(Y/N), I am so moved by what you have done with your charity and your fight for gender equality. I would like to offer you a job in London to start a test pilot for the HeForShe campaign called ‘IMPACT 10X10X10.’ If you accept the offer, you will serve as an assistant UN Women Global Goodwill Ambassador, reporting directly to me. You will start off in London and will migrate to other sectors as needed.  We need strong, confident, gentle and caring women like you on our team. What do you say, (Y/N)?  Are you ready to take your charity abroad by joining the ‘IMPACT 10X10X10’?”

You are stunned. Tears began to fill your eyes. Your phone rings as you wipe your tears away. You look down at your phone.

Ben Barnes calling

Emma looks at you and smiles.  

“Go ahead, take the call. Please think about my offer and let me know what you decide.  Great job, (Y/N).”

You give Emma a hug and hurry down the stairs to take your call.

“Hey.” You answer Ben, sounding like you had a stuffy nose.

Ben paused.

“Is everything alright?” he asks in concern.

“Yes, everything is fine.   How are you?”

“I’m great, just wanted to call to see how everything went.  I watched the campaign live on the internet.  You were BRILLIANT!” Ben said excitedly.

You were so overwhelmed with joy that you could hardly speak.

“Oh Ben, it went so well! I thought about what you told me, and after getting my thoughts together and praying, I felt more confident than ever.”

“So, do you have anything else that you want to share with me?”

You raise your eyebrow.

“Yes!  Get this, Emma offered me a job to launch the IMPACT 10X10X10 pilot abroad in London next year.  I am so blown away that I can hardly speak.  Oh Ben, my dreams have come true today!”

Ben smiles happily through the phone.

“I knew you could do it, (Y/N).  Those girls’ lives will never be the same because of your hard work and dedication. I am very proud of you, (Y/N). Congratulations sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?  Oh shit.

“Thank you, Ben.  I couldn’t have done it without your help and support.”

Ben smiles.

You put two and two together.

“Wait, were you behind Emma offering me the job?” You ask inquisitively.  

Ben chuckles.

“No, that was all you (Y/N), but, I did put in a good word or two about you.”

“Well, I’ll never be able to repay you or thank you enough.”

Ben smiles.

“Are you still going to keep that promise that you made to me?” Ben asks, smiling through his phone.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying remember what you promised.

“That if we ever met, you would treat me to tea and beignets.”

“A girl must always keep her promise.” You say, grinning widely.

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to London, England.” The pilot from the British Airways jumbo jet announces form the intercom.

You hurry off the plane with your two small suitcases, dashing down the escalators and out of the Heathrow airport, faster than a speeding bullet.

There he was.

Ben Barnes, your pen pal, standing before you, live and in person.  He had his arms crossed, his long slim body leaning against is grey Bentley.

You approach him and you both stand there, gazing at one another in silence.

You both smile.

“Hi.” You say, grinning from ear to ear.

Ben stands straight in front of you, uncrossing his arms, a mere inch away from you.  He takes you in his arms and embraces you in a warm hug, picking you up suddenly and holding you in the air by your waist.

You let up a yelp and laugh.

He places you back on the ground and looks at you intensely.  He cups your face and kisses you passionately.  

You never thought that your first meeting with Ben would start off with a kiss, the most amazing kiss that you ever had in your life.

“I love you, (Y/N).” Ben whispers in your ear.

“I love you, too Barnes.” You say as you wrap your arms around Ben’s strong neck, continuing the kiss as you lift up the back of your right leg.

“I guess Joanne was right.”

[schuylersxster]

Welcome to Heathrow Airport, III

PART ONE | PART TWO | masterlist

summary: You meet Lin at the airport during a painfully long layover in London on the way back to New York. You talk and are nerds together. It’s cute.

words: 1922

author’s note: I did the thing! S/O to @fragmentofmymind for liking my other stuff and making me finally want to finish writing this and put it up.

warnings: There’s cursing because it’s me, but that’s it.

In contrast to your everyday life, you woke up in what most people consider to be the morning hours, 8:30 AM to be precise.

Normally, after a deadline, there was an entire week where you barely woke up before noon every day.

Normally, after a deadline, the pit in your stomach had dissolved, but it was still present when you swiped away alarm after alarm after alarm but continued to lay in bed.

Literally, it’s just coffee. Get out of bed, you freak.

“Great encouragement, there.”

Your first instinct after escaping the bundle of sheets was to go and make a cup of coffee, but you had to stop yourself. Coffee with Lin, right. Breakfast, then?

Grabbing your first post-deadline read from the empty space on your bed, you flip it open to your current location and read it while getting some of the quiche you’d made yesterday out of the fridge. For the next half hour, you’re curled up on the couch with a new fantasy novel that you’re supposed to be reviewing and sending in a blurb for. Well, it was really due a week ago, but the author’s a friend of yours who pushed back the date because he knew you were turning in the last edits of your book.

When it gets to a few minutes past nine and you get to the end of the chapter, you close the book, abandon the plate on your coffee table, and go spend the next thirty minutes trying to look cute but not trying to look like you’re trying to look cute because then Lin would think you’re trying to impress him which you’re totally not doing but it also totally is. The coffee shop is only a couple blocks away, but you leave half an hour early anyway, plugging in your earbuds and turning on the audiobook of Neil Gaiman’s newest release as you lock your apartment door and head out.

You had planned to be the early one. And you were still early, but as you pushed the door to the coffee shop open, you saw Lin leaning on the counter, chatting with the barista.

Double checking your phone, you confirmed that you hadn’t entered a parallel world and you both were 15 minutes early for your date. Not date. Coffee . . . meeting? That’s too formal. Fuck it.

You thought about just slowly backing out of the shop and walking around until it was closer to 10, but a familiar face walked out from the back of the store. “[Y/N]! We thought you’d gone missing. It’s been so long since you’ve stopped in!”

Juliette, the owner, was walking toward you with arms wide. You chuckled as the older woman embraced you. Over her shoulder, you saw Lin had turned towards you.

God, I thought he attractive in an airport. This isn’t fair.

You pulled out of the hug and looked at the woman who had single-handedly supplied you with enough caffeine to get through your second book. “I’ve missed this place, believe me. Editing in an airport lacks both good music and good coffee.”

“Are you still drinking the same thing?” Juliette walked her towards the bar with her hand between your shoulders. You nodded. “I’ll get it started for you. And it’s on the house because I’m happy you’re back.”

“You don’t need to do that, Juliette. I can pay for it, really.” But she wasn’t having it, so you slipped a $10 bill into the tip jar as she turned to start the coffee.

“I do think you failed to mention you were a regular here.”

Oh, right, Lin. “This is where I lived and breathed while I was working on the second Labyrinth book. I came here every single day and sat in that seat by the window with my laptop.” You turned to face him properly since the first time you came into the café. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “You’re early.”

“I’m going to pretend not to be offended that you sounded surprised when you said that.” You shook your head and took the coffee from Juliette over the counter. “Thanks, Jules,” you thanked the woman.

Juliette was hardly behind the counter anymore—she was always either at the register or in the office at the back—but she always seemed to be around whenever you stopped in for a drink, and every time, she insisted on making your drink herself. “You sure you don’t want anything, sweetie?” she was looking at Lin expectantly, “it’s on the house if you’re with her.”

Lin ordered and insisted on paying, but Juliette refused because any friend of [Y/N]’s is a friend of mine.

It was no surprise to you that Lin was a busy man. Honestly, that wouldn’t be a surprise to most people who were at least aware that the internet existed that Lin-Manuel Miranda was a busy man. Being as such, he could only stay for a little over an hour in the little coffee shop before needing to leave.

“We should do this again. Soon,” Lin was checking the time one last time before he stood up to leave.

“Definitely.”

“Could you do the same time next week?”

After a second of running your schedule over in your head, you nodded, “For sure, I’ll see you then,” and you stood to hug him goodbye.

And so it went for the next few months. Every Tuesday at 10 AM, you and Lin would meet at the café a few blocks from your apartment. You’d talk about your lives, your terribly embarrassing pasts, and your aspirations. I mean, I literally wear a bracelet that says What Would Neil Gaiman Do? so if I could someone looks at me the way I look at Neil Gaiman, I’d be content. — I just want to keep making a difference. I don’t want to be just “the Hamilton guy” forever. I want to take that and use it for good.

Jen was sure you were meant for each other. “There’s more than one way to have a soulmate, y’know? You can be soulmates with someone without falling in love and having ten kids.”

“There’s no world in which falling in love means having ten kids, Jen.” You were lying on the couch in your apartment while Jen was sitting on the floor with her laptop. The two of you were supposed to be working, but the idea of work had flitted away from the both of you once she asked if she could schedule a meeting for Tuesday morning.

“You know what I mean,” Jen set her laptop on the coffee table with the screen pointed towards you, calendar open, “you two are, like, kindred nerds.”

Barking out a laugh, you turned towards the screen, looking at the tentative schedule for tour dates. “Wow, thanks for that one day off in the middle of this two-week tour.” It was twelve cities in thirteen days, and Jen had one travel day on day seven so that you could get from Texas to Seattle without losing your goddamn mind.

“Do you wanna whine about it or do you wanna sell books?” Jen grabbed the laptop back to lock in the dates with the bookstores. “What would Neil Gaiman do?”

“Sell books,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone and walking into the kitchen. “Do you want tea?”

“Ooo, yes, peppermint please.”

“Herbal tea freak,” you muttered, pulling the singular box of caffeine-free tea that remained in your kitchen for Jen and only Jen as you turned on the kettle. Upon unlocking your phone, you saw a few messages.

There was one from your mom, a few from your longtime best friend who was coming to New York in a few weeks, old messages from Jen that you’d never opened, and about six from Lin. He was a texter because he was busy. You hated texting and had been notoriously bad about not answering messages since you got your first phone in college.

From Lin: 12:27 PM

Can’t do coffee tomorrow, meeting w Lac

From Lin: 12:27 PM

He’s only in NY for a few days and he only had two hours for me in all of it

From Lin: 12:40 PM

You have to get better at responding by the way

From Lin: 1:58 PM

At least tell me you didn’t have a heart attack at hearing we couldn’t have coffee tomorrow

From Lin: 2:02 PM

[Y/N]???

From Lin: 2:24 PM

Could you do dinner this week? I don’t want to go another week without seeing you

To Lin: 2:45 PM

Shit. Sorry. I was in a meeting with Jen about tour-book stuff. Dinner sounds great! I have meetings pretty much every day but my evenings should be free.  

From Lin: 2:47 PM

SHE LIVES! How about Friday? 7?

“Are you dying in there?” Jen called.

You shook your head, pouring the water into two mugs. “Some of us have big girl tea that doesn’t require the water to cool down before actually making the tea. This is your own fault for drinking shitty tea.”

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter while you were walking back to Jen, a mug in each hand. “Someone’s popular today. It kept going off during the meeting. How did you not hear it?” You shrugged nonchalantly and went back to grab it.

From Lin: 2:48 PM

Or I could do another day, but Friday’s probably easiest

You smiled before typing in a response.

To Lin: 2:49 PM

Friday works!

“What are you smiling at?” Jen rested her head in her hand and batted her eyelashes at you. “Is it the Music Man?”

“Why does that look automatically accompany a question about Lin?” She just batted her eyelashes in response, a smile now on her lips. “It is, but it’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“Oh, please, tell me, [Y/N], what am I thinking?”

“I don’t want to know.”

“You’re going on a date with Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“It’s not a date.”

“It’s dinner, on a Friday night, at seven o’clock. It’s a date.” You shook your head and turned back to your laptop, where you saw the all-knowing face of your longest friend. Morgan, the girl who you’d met in gymnastics class at five, had been by your side for every big event in your life. You’d both grown in the same shitty suburb of Chicago, had gone to school together, gone to college together, and inevitably separated when you went to New York and she stayed in Illinois.

Now, she was living out her domestic dream. She’d always wanted to be a teacher, a wife, a mom. Now she had all of that, and she was so happy. Her husband was being an angel and letting you steal your friend away from her family for a week so that you could spend time with her for the first time in ages.

“Charlie, get out of that!” Morgan was yelling at her son from the computer, who was off-screen being a messy child, you were sure. “Hey, sorry, [Y/N] but I gotta go. Make sure to send me pictures of what you’re wearing though. I require outfit approval.”

“It’s not a-” but the screen cut off with another shout from Morgan, “date.” You shut your laptop and shook the thought from your head as you grabbed the open book from the coffee table and began reading. “It is not a date.”