#the box i tried to move was 80 pounds

[maidofmetal]

incredibly irritating when my family leaves heavy boxes in my way or blocking the front door like please can you consider that a wheelchair user with shit bones n ligament n tendons lives with u n cannot safely move that out of its way :/

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys rescuing you

☆ characters: trafalgar law, roronoa zoro

☆ up next: yes, your highness (knight!sanji x princess!reader)

☆ summary: you're put in a situation where your life is put in serious danger. will they be able to save you in time?

☆ a/n: new fic yay!! so i'm working my way through the ask box slowly but surely.. a lot of the requests are for pt. 2's, so im gonna try to publish new content before getting to those... as always, thanks for your patience!

3.0k words

law - fire

Trying to calm your breathing down you closed your eyes, doing your best to not panic. 

“You ok in there?” Shachi called out. 

“What’s the temperature reading?” That might’ve been Bepo. You couldn’t tell. 

You’d gone into the boiler room of the submarine to try and fix an issue with the central temperature. 

The submarine was supposed to be descending toward the abyssal zone, and with pressures as high as they were going to be there was no room for error with the temperature. 

Before you could finish, something that was moving fast hit the side of the Polar Tang, resulting in the door locking you in. 

Law had designed the functional rooms of the ship to be perfect. 

The boiler room locked from the inside, so that if there were ever an issue with a pressure change, any explosion would be contained to the source of heat. 

You heard some debris clatter on the outside, followed by what sounded like a loud, metal clang. 

A high-pitched beeping noise started to sound through the small room. 

80° 

You pressed the down arrow five times. With the way it had been programmed, the boiler room shouldn’t be above seventy five degrees. 

Your stomach started to twist, and nausea climbed up your throat when the number didn’t change, and after a few more second read

83°.

“Y/n! You okay?!” Bepo and Shachi had started to move some of the debris that was blocking the door, “Something hit us!”

“The temperature is going up in here, it’s at eighty-three and the buttons aren’t working!”

“Hold on,” Bepo called out, “We’re moving the stuff from in front of the door, we’ll pass you the key from under the door.”

You steadied your breathing and managed to settle your nerves the slightest bit. 

A silver key slid under the door and you grabbed it. 

“You should be good to open the door now.” 

You placed the key in the lock, and started to turn it when the ship took another hit. 

This one sent you flying into the wall.

You heard Shachi and Bepo’s impact. 

Your head was pounding and you fumbled around looking for the key, unable to find it. 

You could hear yelling coming from outside. 

“Shit! Bepo- try and move that stuff!”

You assumed Shachi had left as you heard footsteps . 

Slowly you got up, your head was starting to stop spinning. 

You still couldn’t find the key and tried jiggling the handle

An unnatural rattling sound was coming from the handle. 

Fuck.

The key had broken off inside it, and the jagged edge that you could just barely get a finger around was too sharp to try and turn. 

The temperature in the room continued to rise.

Your palms had started to sweat and you felt your chest contracting more and more with each breath. 

The heat was starting to fill you up from the inside out. 

You ran to the thermostat, frantically pressing the cooling button.

94°

“Y/n?!” Bepo called, banging on the door, “I moved all the stuff! Try to open the door!”

“I can’t!” you yelled, your voice straining, someone was yelling- Law,  maybe? What had happened? “The key broke in the door! Bepo- the temperature won’t stop rising!”

Bepo continued banging on the door- you knew that he was starting to panic. 

98°

You sunk to the floor, looking for a way out- anything.

You twisted the door knob with so much force that you worried you might have broken it. Not that it made a difference. 

106°

Bepo’s banging stopped and you started to panic again.

The yelling could still be heard in the background.

“Bepo?”

No answer.

Sweat was dripping down your back and your palms were sticky. Your hair clung to your forehead and it was getting harder and harder to breathe- whether that was because of your panic or the heat you could not tell.

You peeled off your boiler suit, which offered you some temporary relief. 

Sitting in a pair of shorts and a tank top now, you simply sunk against the door- banging on it occasionally. 

“Bepo!!” You yelled. 

That damn bear. 

Where was Law?

You perked up at the question.

Where the hell was your captain? 

118°

You decided you’d try the key, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto the jagged metal edges with all the strength you could muster. 

You felt the metal slip past your skin, digging into the flesh of your hand. 

Blood dripped down your arm in a warm, steady stream and you strained to turn the key. 

It wouldn’t move- too little of it was exposed. 

Black dots started to dance in your field of vision, and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness. 

It was so impossibly hot, your mouth felt dry and tacky- like a thin layer of warm glue had been poured inside it. 

Your head was pounding and your lungs felt like they were full of sand. 

As you started to faint, you thought you saw a pale blue glow cover the room. 

You smiled to yourself before you slipped out of consciousness. 

Better late than never. 

131°

“Room.” 

“Lift her arms,” Law ordered.

The feeling of biting cold sent a spark running down your spine as two ice packs were placed under your arm. 

You blinked your eyes open, a dull pain still drumming in the back of your head. 

There was something sturdy behind your chest, and you felt a hand resting on your stomach.

You tried sitting up, but the hand on your stomach held you in place. 

“Not yet, Y/n.”

“Law.”

“You have heat stroke- please don’t move. Stay right there, for me.”

You relaxed back against him. 

“Bepo- hand me another ice pack. Is the bath ready?”

“Almost, Shachi’s getting more ice.”

You strained to sit up again, this time Law held you down with slightly more force.

“Y/n. I’m serious,” his tone froze you in place, “Do not move.” 

“The boiler room-” you started, “‘s too… hot. Pressures- Gonna go up.”

Your speech was slurred and everything in your body felt so heavy.

You felt Law look back up at Bepo and nod. 

“Ok, come on.”

He lifted you up, holding you bridal style to try to keep you as relaxed as possible. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” he said, “But you need to stay in here for at least twenty minutes.”

“Law,” you mumbled, “ ‘s very nice of you.”

Slowly, he lowered you into the makeshift tub- a large plastic bin that was usually used for storage was filled with ice and water. 

The cold was biting and an icy burning spread throughout your body- lighting up your nerves as you were completely submerged. 

“Dunk your head in. Just once.”

You sleepily shook your head. 

Law sighed, “Alright, I’m gonna help you do it, ok?”

Your hands gripped the side of the tub, and you relaxed slightly when he brought a hand to rest on your neck and gently lowered your head down. 

He helped you back up, his steady grip taking the stress off of your body. 

Bepo had been sent out of the room to help the others in fixing the rest of the ship. 

You sat up and leaned back against Law’s chest, drenching him in ice cold water. 

He winced.

“Not so great, hm?”

“No, not so great.”

You sat there, resting against him for a while. Slowly feeling yourself regaining strength. 

You had acclimated to the temperature and the sensation that replaced the freezing cold was somewhat nice. 

“What happened?”

“Underwater volcano, if you’d believe it.”

You laughed, still too tired to hold a full conversation. 

“I’m sorry…” Law started, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

He sounded so sad- you turned to look at him. 

“Law, everybody did the best they could- Even me, look.”

You lifted up your hand to show him the injury to find it had already been bandaged. 

He smiled at you.

“What kind of doctor would I be if I hadn’t noticed that, huh?”

You gave him a gentle smile. 

You could tell that he wasn’t fully convinced, and still felt guilt at having taken too long to rescue you. 

Before he could even react you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that you shouldn’t have had the strength to give.

You could feel tension spark throughout his body, but after a few seconds his arms found their way around your waist and pulled you back in. 

You let go first. 

He followed, a few seconds after. 

“If you really want to make it up to me,” you said.

“I do,” Law answered. 

“Never give me boiler room duty again.”

zoro - earth 

You had four hours to get to the Sunny. 

By noon you and Zoro had to traverse through eight miles of thick, unwelcoming jungle. 

It was humid and neither of you were looking forward to the journey but you had a mutual respect for the other, and though it was never said out loud, shared an enjoyment of each other’s company. 

Zoro liked your good natured humor and admitted to himself that you were easy on the eyes. 

You liked Zoro’s stoic nature and admired his relaxed composure. 

Your fighting styles were perfectly complementary. Zoro attacked first and thought later. His cuts and slices were executed with a terrifying precision and he was able to readily turn on his animalistic attack mindset. You, on the other hand, were thoroughly analytical. Zoro possessed the skill to not have to worry too much about reading an opponent beforehand, but you were able to read them as fast as he could draw his swords. Able to pick apart formations and fighting styles before they could even get a hit in, you were able to direct Zoro and predict enemy attacks perfectly. 

He’d never openly admit it but he liked taking directions from you. To him, independent and capable as he might have been on his own, it felt like he was a sword and you were the hand that guided it. 

He made the final cut, but it was you who had swung in the right direction. 

Needless to say, you had both set off on your journey toward the Sunny with very few complaints. 

The humidity increased, the further you got into the thick green that covered the island. 

You pushed through miles and miles of green leaves and branches. 

It was lively, the sounds of bugs scuttling across the floor, birds crying from the canopy above, and frogs chirping and yelping filled the scenery with the noise of life and energy. 

You were humming to yourself, enjoying the warm weather and snacking on the chips Sanji had packed for you, handing the bag over to Zoro when he reached his hand toward you. 

You’d made good progress in the two hours you’d been walking and agreed you could afford to sit down to eat lunch.

“Haha! I do remember that!”

“Or what about when that moron of a cook though he and Nami had us beat in trivia night-”

“And they lost to us in the category of cooking!”

You and Zoro were both laughing. Not such a rare occurrence when the two of you were together. 

Zoro’s head suddenly snapped around.

You felt it too, the hairs on your neck rising. 

A chill ran through your body and you turned to press your back against his. 

“I can’t tell where they’re coming from.”

“Neither can I.”

Your breathing was in sync and you both waited, weapons at the ready. 

In a split second the tension broke and your attackers revealed their position by shooting an arrow. 

“On your left!”

You jumped to the side as a flurry of arrows flew past your head and heard the sound of blows being dealt by Zoro as he handled his side. 

You pulled your throwing knives from your bag where they rested and aimed at the enemy. 

Flashes of shiny steel flew through the colorful greens and teals of the forest, the sound of metal against metal echoing in the open space.  

You and Zoro fighting together was truly a sight to behold. 

You set up every hit he got, and the hits you got were courtesy of Zoro. 

It was like a sport for the two of you, a team working perfectly in sync. 

Skill aside, your ability to guess his next move paired with his ability to accommodate his hits to the blows you landed, made the two of you nearly impossible to beat. 

After only ten minutes of fighting, you’d taken out more than half of the group ambushing you. 

Your blades were dripping matching shades of red, and it wasn’t long until the remaining attackers ran. 

A stray arrow was stuck in a tree and you pulled it out to inspect it. 

Thick, green liquid dripped off the end of it. 

Poison. 

“Y/n!” Zoro called. 

You dropped the arrow and ran to his side. 

“Who was that? I didn’t recognize anything about those attackers?” you asked.

“Same here, but it doesn’t matter. Could’ve just been bounty hunters.” 

“Working as a team? Unlikely.”

He shrugged. 

“Either way, they’re gone.”

You nodded and followed behind him as you continued your walk toward your crew. 

A dull throbbing had started to spread throughout your body. You had a headache, too, but shrugged it off.

You walked for another few minutes before you felt liquid trickle down your throat.

You pressed your hand to your neck, pulling away when you felt a warm film cover your fingers. 

There was a small gash on the right side of your neck-  you’d been hit. 

“Fuck!”

Zoro turned around, eyes widening when he saw the wound. 

He ran toward you and pressed a hand against your neck to stop the bleeding. 

“Shit, shit, shit! Ok- Ok, um, just stay calm,” he was panicking, sweat was lining his brow.

 He reached into his backpack and pulled out a napkin that was meant for your lunch. 

He held it against your neck and you started to feel faint. 

You felt your right foot lock. You tried to move it but it felt like trying to move a steel ball with only your pinky finger. 

“Zoro…” the fear in your voice was evident. 

The swordsman sat you down against the trunk of a tree and held your hair up with one hand as he held the cloth to your neck. 

You started feeling faint, and a slowly increasing feeling of nausea was spreading throughout your body. 

“We need to get the poison out.”

You nodded, the strength slowly leaving your body, like water flowed from a leak. 

He rummaged through his backpack which contained only the lunch Sanji had packed you, a standard first aid kit that Chopper had insisted you take with you, and a broken compass he had forgotten to throw away.

He grabbed the first aid kit and frantically dumped it out. 

You pointed at the gauze and Zoro grabbed it. 

“Okay… I’ll, um, wrap this around… your neck?”

You nodded, “But we still need to get the poison out.”

You winced in pain, doubling forward. 

You grabbed a few pills Chopper had thrown in and swallowed them as Zoro continued to try and calm himself down. 

“It’s spreading.”

Zoro’s head was pounding- this was definitely not his area of expertise and there was nothing in the kit that said ‘Poison Remover’.

“H-how do I,” he asked, overwhelmed, “Just tell me what to do.”

He might not have any medical knowledge but he’d be damned if he let a crew mate die on his watch. 

Especially you. 

Your eyes had started to close and he was set in his resolve to save you. 

Get the poison out, he thought. 

As he felt your grip on his arm loosening something in his brain clicked. 

He brought his arm around your neck, letting your head rest against his bicep. 

His lips wrapped around your neck, and you felt his warm tongue swipe over the shallow wound. 

You hissed as he traced his tongue back over it, his saliva coating your soft neck in a thin glaze. 

A slight pressure built up as he started to suck the poison out, occasionally spitting it out on the ground next to you. 

You made it with a half hour to spare. 

The rest of your crew warmly greeted you, happy to see you having made it safely. 

You walked onto the ship, Zoro staying by your side, like a knight does with a princess. 

Sanji was the first to notice the bandage wrapped around your neck.

“Y/n-chwan!! Are you hurt? What happened?”

You shook your head, “I got hit with a poisonous dart. But I’m okay.”

You gave Zoro a thankful look. 

Sanji further inspected the wound, noticing the deep purple and red hickey that sat right on top of the gash. 

“What… exactly happened?” he asked, shooting a glare in the swordsman’s direction. 

“The poison had started to spread and, uh…” your voice trailed off. 

You weren’t sure if Zoro wanted to announce his heroics to the crew. 

He stood taller and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“And I sucked it out,” he announced.

He sounded proud enough, but his increasingly red cheeks implied otherwise.  

There were mixed reactions..

Sanji was furious and started to bicker with him, Luffy and the boys were laughing, but Nami, Robin, and Chopper all seemed confused.  

“But,” Nami had started, “I thought that that doesn’t work-”

You cut her off and shot her a look, that said Don’t say anything.

“I would’ve died if it weren’t for him.”

Robin giggled and ushered them all back inside to finish lunch, explaining to a very confused Chopper what was going on.  

You and Zoro were left alone on the deck. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder, “You saved me.”

He looked away from you, rubbing the back of his neck and nodded. 

“Anytime.”

Of course, you knew that sucking the poison out of a wound was an outdated myth. 

It was the pills that had saved you. 

But Zoro had been hellbent on saving you and did everything in his power to keep you alive.

He believed he had saved you.

And you’d be damned if someone told him otherwise. 

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 21 - Hellfire

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Hellfire songfic- Aziraphale wants to lay his heart on the line and be everything to Crowley but nagging voices from Heaven would never leave him alone.

Aziraphale had quite peacefully been reading in the bookshop, enjoying the smell from the sandalwood candle he had burning on the table. There was a cold cup of cocoa sitting beside it and the book in his hands was over halfway read. As he tuned into the ticking of the grandfather clock he thought about long it had been since he had seen Crowley. He assumed their arrangement was still in tact but he hadn’t heard anything. Usually the demon would say if he was going to be away for a while and the lack of communication was beginning to grate on him.

He placed his book down and blew out the candle before moving over to the phone and dialling the familiar number.

This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.

Aziraphale sighed before leaving a message, “Crowley, It’s just Aziraphale, checking in. I miss you, my dear. We haven’t crossed paths in a while. I do hope you’re okay.”

There was a letter on Aziraphale’s desk, one that had been there for years. He’d received a warning about his relationship with the demon and there was some lingering feeling of being watched since the letter arrived.

Like fire

In the absence of the demon, his heart felt empty and cold like there was something missing. He felt so full when Crowley was around and it was only when he was gone that Aziraphale realised how badly it hurt.

He tried to clean the bookshop to distract him, keeping an ear out for the phone. Part of him knew he wouldn’t get a response but he had held onto faith up until this point. There was a single photo of Crowley hanging in the bookshop from back in the 80s. Aziraphale let his finger over his cheek, longing to make contact with Crowley once again.

As soon as he realised what he was thinking he recoiled and panic flashed across his face. If his superiors were mad about him possibly working with a demon, loving one of them would be an unforgivable sin.

Lust was the scariest of the sins. Aziraphale could watch his every word and every action but his heart wanted to stray, to feel the gentle embrace of someone who cared about him. He wanted to love recklessly and fall hard without fearing what the almighty might say.

He wanted to be loved.

Hellfire

He sat down in his armchair, his breath caught in his throat as he thought about Crowley. He had told the demon he was going to fast but he would’ve given anything to be sitting with him now in this very bookshop. He didn’t want the world to be ending for them to have a reason to be together. He didn’t want to fight for something that felt so right.

If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough he could almost feel the gentle brush of the demon’s long fingers against the tender skin on his neck. He could almost smell Crowley’s cologne and feel the rough of his fabric against his arm.

He didn’t want to imagine anymore. He wanted Crowley. The longer he went without hearing from him, the worse he felt. There was a pounding in his head and he swear he could feel the rushing of blood that didn’t exist in his ears. He couldn’t see straight.

He fished a small golden snuff box out of one of the pockets of his oversized coat and ran his fingers across the raised design on the top of it. It was a gift from the demon of course and while Aziraphale never used it for it’s intended purpose, it did serve as a good grounding tool when he got like this. The small raised bumps ran along underneath his thumb and he slowly felt himself breathe again.

This fire in my skin

He felt a tingle that almost reached down to his bones as he heard the small bell above the door chime. In the doorway was a tall, excessively tired looking demon who seemed relieved to see the angel sitting there as he always did.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed.

“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale sobbed before jumping up. He couldn’t stop himself before he leapt up and wrapped his arms around the demon. The sobs shook his body and Crowley stood there, holding the angel.

Crowley gently moved his hands to stroke Aziraphale’s perfect white curls, “I’m sorry I haven’t been here, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t say a word, just burying his head into the demon’s neck. Crowley knew better than to pull away and just swayed gently, not letting his grip on the angel loosen any.

When Aziraphale did pull away, Crowley gently cupped his cheeks and wiped away the tears, “What’s wrong, my dear?”

“I missed you,” He blubbered, the words feeling heavy on his chest.

“I missed you too, but we’ve gone decades without seeing each other.”

Aziraphale shut his eyes and tried to find the right words, “It was different. It felt different.”

Crowley didn’t want to admit it but he felt the exact same.

This burning desire

Something about the contact with Crowley relit the fire in Aziraphale’s stomach. His body felt warm once more and he was ready to ease back into their usual song and dance. If Crowley was here, everything would be okay.

Where Crowley’s hands had once lay were tingles that consumed Aziraphale’s conscious. He wanted to fully embrace the reunion but in the back of his mind he couldn’t stop thinking about what the other angels would say.

Traitor. Sinner. Filthy. Unholy. Tarnished. Sullied.

Is turning me to sin

But as Crowley’s lips collided with his, he couldn’t think about them anymore. All the could think about was the burning desire that took over his whole body as his hands slipped under the demon’s shirt and his lips sloppily found their way to Crowley’s.

[coffee-bee-demon]

"I'm sorry, Jane..."

(Warning: language and graphic descriptions)

It was a rainy Saturday night. I sat on my black leather recliner, wrapped in a soft grey blanket with a cup of coffee in my hand. A true crime documentary played on the TV as always. This time about the killer who resided in my town back in the 80s. I was taking a sip of coffee when the screen began to glitch, the interviewee's face distorting beyond recognition. Could it be the storm, I thought.

I tried to turn off the tv but it wouldn't shut off. "You shitty TV," I muttered. I threw the blanket onto the arm of the chair and set the coffee on the side table. My legs struggled to keep me up from sitting down for too long. I groaned in pain as I made my way over to the tv to pull the cord and plug it back in. Suddenly, the screen showed one of the women who were victims of the local killer. My blood ran cold and felt my heart sink to my stomach.

It was my sister, Jane. She was in immense pain, restricted, and strapped to what seemed to be a pole in an isolated room. Her malnourished body was covered in dry blood, bruises, cuts, and scars. "Please," she whimpered, almost as if she was talking to me. "Let me go!" Her blood-curdling scream echoed in the living room. I was in shock and frozen in place. Tears began to run down my cheeks. "Fuck, Jane..." A loud crash was heard in another room. I whipped my head to where the sound came from. It sounded like it came from the basement.

I slowly made my way over to the fireplace and grabbed the fire poker to arm myself. Tiptoeing closer to the basement, my heart pounds against my chest as my trembling hands grip tightly around the weapon. All of this almost feels like a horror movie; a dumb white woman such as myself inching toward danger.

A foot away from the basement door and I can smell rotting flesh. My nose crunched up. I fought with myself. Should I really investigate or should I call the police? The police wouldn't be helpful. I knew that ever since the era of the Haven Killer. The only good thing they did was execute the bastard after 4 years of playing hide and seek with him.

I held my breath, gathered my courage, and opened the door. It was dark and the odor was more putrid. What is that God-awful smell? I flicked the light on and began to descend the stairs. The lightbulb wasn't the best but it made enough shine to see. The concrete floor was cold against my bare feet. Boxes filled with miscellaneous objects were scattered along the walls. Some were piled like towers, some open, some still taped shut. My eyes widened as I spotted a bloody line smeared around the staircase. It looked as if something was dragged. I gulped and followed the line.

I almost screamed seeing the horrifying creature laying in a puddle of blood. The line was a trail to the... thing. It was a human but it was distorted and twisted. Hunched over, its lanky arms and legs supported its pale grey and emaciated body. It had long but disheveled hair that covered its face. It was whimpering like it was in pain. Was this what made the crash earlier?

My heart was pounding more than ever. My eyes were so wide you'd think they'd pop out by now. I didn't dare move. I couldn't. I was confident I could handle myself but now I'm too damn scared. It lifted its face to look at me and I dropped my fire poker. It was wearing my sister's face as its own. The same face that had shown me love, hate, care, compassion, and fear. Tears flowed down my face like a river. I yelled as I'm caught in my emotions, "Why?! Why are you here?! How fucking dare use my sister's face like a mask, you heartless bitch?!" I can't stand to see that face anymore. It hurts too much. It inched closer, walking in an awkward way. I quickly backed up to the staircase. It picked up in pace, opening its mouth to show its sharp teeth.

I turned around and tried to run up the stairs, but I felt its bony fingers wrap around my ankle and yank me toward it. My face smacked hard on one of the steps, almost knocking me unconscious. Blood began to pour out of my nose. I screamed as I tried to kick it away, but its grip on me was too tight. It threw me against the wall into some boxes, causing them to break. Running over to me and screeching, it knocked the fire poker into the far corner out of reach. I was then thrown into the floor repeatedly. My blood splattered everywhere and I felt my bones snap. I could barely move. The pain became unbearable. My breathing became shallow. The slim creature crawled on top of me and unhinged its jaw, ready to devour my head. I was done fighting. Jane wouldn't have wanted me to quit but I'm too weak. Its mouth lowered down to my face. "I'm... sorry, Jane..." Crunch-!

[tacitusauxilium]

moved this reply to here // @quillheel

Even though it had been Fuuka's second time experiencing the Dark Hour with the members of SEES, it was going smoothly, in her eyes. Not having Mitsuru with them did make the lobby of Tartarus feel even more lonelier than normal--just having someone to chat with when the exploration team was healing up or just taking a quick break to check their weapons did make Tartarus tolerable. If only for a little bit.

Luckily, Fuuka was able to recall Lucia for a moment and reached for the snacks she left nearby to help replenish her energy and the others--most of the time, it's medicine that the others didn't have room for. Trying her best to open up the box containing said food, Fuuka winced in pain as she could see blood trickling down her fingertip.

"Owww..." A small drop of blood landed on the ground in front of her as she drew her finger in, none-the-wiser to the shadows leaving the exploration team. It took them defeating only one of the two to draw Fuuka's attention and made herself drop the snack immediately. And, before she could even react, the second shadow appeared on the stairs. A gasp as she watched it transform in front of her--a bodybuilder with the wild hair of a wrestler from the 80s.

She had no idea what made her scared to call Lucia all of a sudden. Fuuka looked around, hoping to find someone there to help her, but no one--she was alone and the fear in her eyes paralyzed her. How was it that two full moon shadows weeks prior made Fuuka call her Persona without hesitation and now--!

Fuuka could easily have proved she was strong and capable, but now, she felt like she regressed as the shadow was just mere feet from her. She crawled backwards, her body shaking in fear as she covered her head and pulled herself into a fetal position. The bright flash of the teleporter blinded Fuuka for but a moment to hear something colliding with the shadow and defeating it immediately. To even know that the shadow was already that weak...she was embarrassed to call herself their navigator.

And worse, it was Akihiko who came to her aid. Akihiko was perfect for this situation, and yet, she didn't realize her eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly in shock. He really was Gekkoukan's Golden Boy. Perhaps a prince, too. Fuuka covered her lips with both of her hands and tried to shake the shock off of her face. "...Sanada-senpai...!" Fuuka whispered as she watched Akihiko pushing away her messy hair that covered a small corner of her face, and she gasped audibly when his knuckles moved passed her ears. The noise of the cracking bones that were broken made her wince and sick to her stomach.

"...y-you're hurt...!" She kept her voice low, her heart pounding in her ears and in her head and--panic and worry was etched on her face as she wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Fuuka kept her hands in her lap and shook her head. "I-I'm fine, thanks to you but, you got h-hurt over m-me..." Fuuka lowered her head, trying to hide the tears that were ready to spring up in the corners of her eyes. Her one hand left her mouth and gripped the evoker that was nearby in anger, frustration, and hurt. She even picked it up and slammed it on the ground. "I'm so sorry! If I wasn't such a coward--" She sniffed her nose, knowing in her heart Akihiko was trying to put on a brave face. Even the wincing he made, if only for a brief second, and the scrunched up pain on his face made Fuuka feel horrible.

Her other free hand reached up to touch Akihiko's injured hand and frowned. "...Kirijo-senpai is going to be so mad at me." She gently touched the top of his hand, knowing she had to repair his hand at least--that was the best she could in this situation. Fuuka looked around, left and right over and over, and saw their first aid kit was empty. Since when--! "I-I... ...I don't know what to do...!"

[lizardman1959]

I think of where I was this time last year and wonder if anything truly changes for the better

I was alone in an unfamiliar city after moving over 1200 miles, without any friends, supervisors who thought me incompetent and unprofessional, a work schedule that was killing me slowly, and a partner that I never felt I could get ahold of and actually see me.

I’m still in that city now and I have one friend that I’m terrified of losing because I’m a depressed, traumatized, absolute pathetic excuse of a person. My supervisors still think I’m incompetent and can’t do my job. I feel targeted at my job and looked down upon by my coworkers. My work schedule is killing me faster. My partner is the source of 80% of the stress that’s made me lose sleep, hair, and over 40 pounds in less than six months. Any time I try to do something for myself or my health it feels like I open Pandora’s box for everyone I love. And I never feel better when I do. I always manage to make it worse.

I am trying so hard to find things to hold on to, to keep myself here, to find things that make it worth it to keep going, but lately I’m struggling to see why it was worth it to stick around after I tried to kill myself this time last year

i just want to close my eyes and never open them again, if this is what the rest of my life looks like

[k-evans-reads]

Playing With Fire

Chapter 1

Summary: After a change of heart nearly ten years into her career as a pediatric intensive care unit nurse, Ellie Maxwell has moved back home and returned to her old job at the local bakery, where the regulars are the firefighters from down the street. When sparks begin to fly between Ellie and the guarded, closed-off Chris, will anything come of it?

Pairing: Firefighter!Chris Evans X OFC Elizabeth "Ellie" Maxwell

Word Count: 4,503

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own. 

Warnings: None.

Main Masterlist | Playing With Fire Masterlist

A grunt filled the room as Brooke dropped a box onto the couch, before she sighed and looked at Ellie incredulously. “What in the world are in these boxes?! They weigh like, a million pounds,” she asked, Ellie chuckling as she looked at the sea of boxes around them, adjusting her tie-dye shirt before she began digging through her own box.

“Oh that one is books, I think,” she told her best friend, brows furrowed as she tried to remember. “Or maybe my sewing stuff.”

A dry chuckle rose from Brooke, turning to stare at Ellie. “I swear you are actually an 80 year old woman trapped in a 29 year old’s body.”

“Yeah but who do you call when you need your jeans hemmed?” Ellie muttered, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Whatever you say, old lady.”

“I’m not an old lady!” Ellie laughed, pointing at Brooke as she lifted plates out of the box, gently unwrapping them from their paper and placing them on the table next to her.

Brooke set out in unpacking Ellie’s books, her back to her best friend as she replied, “You just quit your job in nursing, moved back to your hometown, are going to work in a bakery and the thing you’re most looking forward to is playing with your baby nephew and spending your weekends curled up reading… yeah, you’re an old lady.”

“When you summarize my life that way it sounds like most people’s life goal but in reverse,” Ellie pointed out, biting her lip while she avoided Brooke’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her lifelong best friend wondered out loud.

“Most people would work at a bakery as a temporary job on their way to become a nurse, not quit their job as a nurse and go back to working in a bakery,” She explained, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, that familiar feeling of frustration at herself inside her chest.

Before she could get too far into self loathing, Brooke stated firmly, “Ellie don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She scrunched her nose up, tilting her head in the process.

“Don’t do that. I know you feel like a failure but you’re not,” Brooke rested her hands on top of the stack of books and looked into Ellie’s eyes with certainty.

“I just feel that way though,” Ellie couldn’t help but feel deflated while she kept on her task of pulling each of her items out of the cardboard box. “I mean I spent all those years working so hard to be a nurse, my parents paid for all my school and now I’m not even doing it anymore.”

“Ellie, will you stop beating yourself up about this? You were a nurse for almost seven years. It’s not like you didn’t try to make it work,” She tried to reason with her even though it didn’t take away all that Ellie was feeling. “Besides, it’s not like you weren’t good at your job. It just took too much out of you emotionally and that’s okay. You’re a sensitive person, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Ellie shrugged while picking off a rogue string on her oversized tee shirt while admitting, “It just feels pathetic to be almost 30 and practically starting my life over again.”

“Well I know your family is happy about having you in town again and so am I,” Brooke honestly spoke, assuring her that, “This is going to be a good thing Ellie. You made the right choice for you.”

Ellie nodded, but Brooke’s words rang through her mind for the rest of the morning as they danced around each other, unpacking Ellie’s new home slowly but surely. She couldn’t help but feel like she failed, despite Brooke’s reassurances. She’d worked so hard and her parents invested so much money into her nursing degree, only for Ellie to quit not even ten years in. She wished for nothing more than to be able to go back in time to when she was eighteen and to be able to pick a different path for herself, something she’d still be able to use, rather than sitting back where she started, almost thirty years old with a nearly hundred and fifty thousand dollar degree that was no good to her anymore.

But she had reached the end of her rope. She just couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t go home and cry herself to sleep every single night over a patient who had passed away, someone struggling with their mental health, or seeing a sick child. It just took too much out of her emotionally and at this point in her life, she had nothing left to give. After a lot of sleepless nights and the bags under her eyes getting larger and larger, she decided to wave the white flag and finally admit that she just couldn’t do it anymore. So here she was, coming back to her hometown with her tail between her legs, embarrassed and defeated.

But her saving grace was the bakery in town, in the old renovated home that it’d always been in. She’d worked there through high school and during her summers as a college student, and when she’d left for her nursing job in New York City after graduation, the owner- Dottie, a sweet older woman- promised that there would always be a spot for her in case something changed. And when something changed last month, she called Dottie first, almost sobbing as she spoke to her. And all of those instances combined had led Ellie to packing up all her belongings, breaking her lease early, and driving upstate to come back home.

So here she was, renting a quaint little yellow house right in between her parents family farm and the middle of town where the bakery was located, unpacking all of her belongings with her lifelong friend, ready to settle into a new chapter of her life… even if she wasn’t sure what that chapter was going to be.

Brooke stayed for a few more hours, helping unpack until they had got most of the boxes and gave her friend a tight hug, promising to see her the following day and leaving Ellie alone. She tried to make herself busy, organizing her closet and putting away things, but the thoughts began running through her head on a never-ending cycle. All she could think about was that she was a failure, that the time, energy, and money spent on that stupid degree was all put to waste. That she’d lost nearly ten years of her life to a lie, and that she was no better off at nearly thirty than she had been when she’d graduated high school.

At some point, nearly three hours after Brooke left, Ellie slammed her bathroom door shut, tears welling in her eyes at the realization that these thoughts would never end. But she knew she could distract herself somehow, so she pulled her hair into a ponytail, threw a plain crew neck sweatshirt over her tee, tossed a coat over her shoulders, and jammed her feet into sneakers, bounding down the front stairs and into her car, heading into town. Her fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel as she drove, but when she saw that little old house and the line of cars parked in front of it, she felt a warmth come over her.

She stepped out of the car and up the wooden stairs, opening the door and smiling faintly as the old bell rang from overhead, watching as the gray-haired lady turned her head, a surprised smile crossing her face. “Ellie! My goodness it’s so good to see you!” She beamed, moving around the counter to come to the front. “It’s been way too long!”

“It really has. I’ve missed you Dottie,” Ellie smiled, sighing as Dottie hugged her, the familiar embrace a welcome reprieve from the negativity in her head.

Dottie tutted, squeezing Ellie tighter as she replied, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Thank you so much for letting me come back to the bakery,” Ellie whispered, screwing her eyes shut as she gave Dottie one last squeeze and breathed in the familiar smell of buttercream and vanilla.

The old woman stepped back, but kept her hands on Ellie’s shoulders as she looked at her in shock. “Are you kidding? You’re my lifesaver. Things have gotten so busy here lately it’s been hard to keep up with just a few of us,” she laughed, before she pointed to an empty table, leading Ellie over to it. As they sat down, she sighed, studying the young woman for a moment before she asked,  “Now come tell me what’s been going on? Are you all moved in?”

Ellie nodded, glancing out the windows behind Dottie before she replied, “For the most part I am. My parents were over yesterday helping me get my furniture all moved in and then Brooke and I unpacked most of my smaller things this morning.”

“Are you sure you want to start tomorrow? Do you need more time to get settled?” Dottie asked her carefully, raising a grayed eyebrow at her.

“No, I’ll be happy to get back to work,” Ellie reassured her, shaking her head as she admitted, “I want something to do so I’m ready to start as soon as you want me.”

Dottie took her up on the offer, taking her around the bakery to show her that most things were right where they were years prior. Ellie found a certain comfort in the bakery staying the same, liking the familiarity that came with it. It was a welcome juxtaposition to nursing in the pediatric intensive care unit, where you never knew what you’d be walking into from day to day. The sweet older woman was over the moon to have Ellie back, not only happy to have someone she loved and trusted, but an employee she could let run things or bake whatever she pleased, knowing that it would be a great addition to the bakery and was excited to have her back.

Ellie was pinning the magnetic name tag to her shirt- the same one that had been hanging on the wall of the walk-in refrigerator for all these years, just in case she ever came back- when Dottie turned to her. “I know I don’t have to explain all the ins and outs to you, but you know that you can make whatever you want when you come in. Everyone always loves what you bake,” she told her with a smile, Ellie laughing to herself.

“I do have some new recipes I think you’ll like,” she noted, Dottie perking up at the statement. But the bell interrupted them, Dottie poking her head into the front just as a loud voice boomed through the small bakery.

“Dottie!” A man cried out, a muffled laugh carrying through the cafe. Ellie took a sip of her water before she followed Dottie to the counter, standing at the register as she smiled politely at the two men, both clad in t-shirts and jackets bearing the name of the local fire company, but also wearing easy, matching grins as they stood in front of Dottie.

“How are my favorite boys?” She asked them with a wide grin, eyes warm as she looked at them, Ellie seeing one blonde man who looked to be a little older than her leaning against the counter while a younger man, looking to be closer in age to her with dark hair and a well groomed beard standing next to him.

The younger looking darker-haired one laughed full-bodied, his eyes bright while he replied, “Good, but you better not let the other guys hear you say that or they’ll be jealous.”

“No they won’t, because you’re all my favorites.”

“That’s a lie, we all know I’m your favorite,” the same man smirked, eyes dropping to look in the pastry case while the other man greeted Dottie before he did the same.

Dottie looked at them fondly for a moment before she drawled, “Are you boys here for a reason or are you just trying to cause trouble?”

“Mostly trouble,” the young one shot back instantly, rising to his full height again as his eyes met Ellie’s, their gaze meeting for a brief moment before his blue eyes narrowed at her. “You’re new here aren’t you?”

“Well sort of,” she shrugged nervously, before she shrugged again as she added, “I used to work here but I’m back now. I’m Ellie.”

“Hi Ellie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Chris, and this is Mark,” he introduced, jamming his thumb in the direction of the other man- Mark, Ellie reminded herself- over his own shoulder as Mark waved to her.

“They’re firefighters at the station right around the corner so all those boys are in here all the time,” Dottie supplied as she walked behind Ellie, reaching in and pulling some random treats out and putting them in a box.

“Well it’s not our fault you have the best bakery in town,” Chris laughed back with a smirk on his lips, before he winked at Ellie.

“Watch out for that one Ellie, he’s a charmer,” Dottie said to her with a dry tone, making Mark burst into laughter from behind Chris.

“Only for you, Dottie,” Chris answered, but he quietly thanked Dottie as she slid the box of desserts across the case to them, Mark passing Dottie cash as he thanked her as well. “But we did actually come in for a reason. It’s the Chief’s birthday so we wanted to order a cake for him.”

Dottie nodded, leading the men over to a table to discuss the order as Ellie tended the counter, greeting the few customers that straggled in during the evening hours. She found herself watching the trio a lot, watching the way Chris’ face lit up as he talked with Dottie, gesturing wildly as he spoke. It was easy to acknowledge his handsome looks, but what kept Ellie’s eyes on him was the warmth that seemed to just radiate from him in every way.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been staring when the trio stood up, the men each hugging Dottie as she promised to have the cake ready for them that Wednesday. But before they could make it out of the front door, Chris clapped his hands together, his face sheepish as if he’d forgotten something as he said, “We also wanted to talk to you about the toy drive.”

“Oh Ellie, I think I might have you take this over so I want you to come hear this,” Dottie called, waving her hand for Ellie to come closer from where she was re-reading the closing list near the door to the back. “Do you boys want to tell her what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, the firestation does a toy drive every November for foster kids to collect toys for Christmas. It’s coming up next Saturday and Dottie here usually donates something for it,” Chris explained with a slight shrug, a small grin on his face as his eyes moved to Dottie before they returned to Ellie’s. “I don’t know what you want to do but the kids all loved the cookies from last year.”

Dottie rested a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, telling her, “Ellie you can make whatever you want, just make sure you make enough extra for all my boys at the station,” as a slight smirk spread across her lips, her brows raising as she looked at the men out of the corner of her eyes.

Mark groaned appreciatively, shaking his head at them. “You spoil us Dottie, you know that?”

“Well now my sweet Ellie is going to be the one spoiling you,” she replied, nodding and adding, “So Ellie, you just give them whatever they need.”

“If you just tell me how many you want, I’ll make sure they’re all ready,” Ellie said, grabbing a piece of paper to write down the quantity as Mark told her. She clicked the pen, putting it back down on the countertop as she told them, “I really love that you all do a toy drive. If there’s anything else I could do, I would love to help.”

“Well we can always use some gift wrappers,” Chris shrugged, trailing off a bit at the end.

“I’ll be there,” she promised, smiling brightly at them both.

“Thank you Ellie, we appreciate the help,” Mark said appreciatively, before he grabbed the pastry box from where Chris had left it on the counter. “Well Chris, we should head back.”

“Yeah, we should. Thanks Dottie,” the man nodded, smiling brightly at the older woman as she said goodbye to him as well. But surprisingly, he turned to Ellie, a grin on his face as he added, “And it was nice to meet you Ellie, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“You really will be seeing a lot more of Chris, his sweet tooth is out of control,” the blonde man sarcastically added, smiling over his shoulder at Ellie as he pushed the door open, holding it open and stepping onto the porch as he waited for Chris.

“Well you’re coming to the right place then,” Ellie chuckled, watching as Chris began to walk out, but then her brows furrowed and she called, “Oh! By the way, do you have any requests for what to make for the toy drive? Is there something the kids like?”

“I don’t know about the kids, but I’m pretty into those iced shortbread cookies,” he suggested, that now-familiar smirk spreading across his face again.

Mark groaned from the porch, poking his head back as he pointed in Chris’ direction, exasperatedly saying, “Told you that you need to watch out for this guy.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ellie chuckled, watching as the men walked down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, Chris’ loud laugh carrying back into the bakery as they headed back to the firestation.

Ellie jumped into the closing duties as it got closer to the four o’clock closing time, wiping down counters and emptying the pastry case as the minutes ticked by, before she locked the door and began mopping. Once she and Dottie were done with the tasks, they shut off the lights and shut down the ovens, locking up the door behind them as they left for the night. Ellie began driving, passing her own home within ten minutes, but when she turned onto the familiar country road, she didn’t feel anything but excitement and peace wash over her. Turning onto the long, dirt driveway reminded her of so many childhood memories, of bike rides and skinned knees, but the sight of the white farmhouse sitting atop a hill overlooking the Christmas tree farm was nothing short of relief for Ellie. It was home, in every way.

The scent of the pine trees filled her lungs in the most satisfying way possible as she climbed the rickety old stairs to the back door, bumping the door with her hip to get it to close right as she stepped inside. Instantly, she was met with the smell of her mother’s homemade chicken pot pie cooking in the oven and the sound of her baby nephew giggling.

She pulled off her coat, eyes meeting her family’s happy faces smiling at her from around the kitchen island. “Ellie! Honey, we’re so glad you’re here!” Her mother, Diana, cheered, gracefully making her way to wrap Ellie in a tight hug.

“I’m happy to be here,” she admitted to her quietly, squeezing her back just as tightly. Her eyes screwed shut for a moment as she soaked in the familiar comfort of her mother’s hugs, but when she opened them she was glad, as she got to see all of the people she loved looking back at her.

“I can’t believe that now we get to have you at Sunday family dinners,” Diana whispered, before she pulled back and ran her hands up and down Ellie’s arms. “I’m so happy that you’re back here, sweetie.”

“I have to say that it is nice to be able to just get in your car and drive to where you want to go, that’s something I’ve already gotten used to again,” she laughed with a small grin on her face.

“All the animals are happy you’re back! Even grumpy little Bruce,” her father, Brett, spoke, grinning at Ellie as she greeted the black cat purring at her feet.

“And that’s a feat all by itself!” Her older brother, Daniel, laughed, his hand tickling his six-month-old son, Nathan, as his brows pinched, turning back to his younger sister to ask, “Hey, did Brooke end up coming over today?”

Ellie nodded, heading over to the squeaky old cabinet to pull out one of the faded glasses, the same ones she used on Sunday mornings during their pancake breakfasts nearly twenty five years ago. “Yeah she helped me get a lot of the kitchen and living room things unpacked with was amazing. It feels nice to have some of my stuff put away,” she answered, before she moved over to the fridge to fill the glass with water, just as her mother pulled the pie out of the oven.

She watched with a smile as Amanda, her sister-in-law, bounced Nathan on her lap, the baby giving Ellie a gummy grin as their eyes met. Amanda leaned down to press a kiss to Nathan’s blond curls before she straightened up, giving Ellie a smile as she said, “And I’m coming tomorrow to help but I have to bring Nathan so I actually don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Diana sighed over-dramatically, rolling her eyes as she mentioned, “I guess I’ll just have to come over and play with Nathan while you two unpack.”

“Yeah I’m sure you’ll hate that, Mom,” Danny chuckled, leaning back in the barstool and taking a sip of his wine as he did so.

“It’ll be tough, but I suppose I can do it,” Diana retorted, hiding a smirk in her red wine as she took a sip, before she moved over to cut the pie and told everyone to sit at the table.

The laughter at Diana’s sarcastic comment filled the room as the family all passed around the food, each dishing up what they wanted before settling in for the meal. Ellie mostly stayed silent through a lot of the meal, but this time it wasn’t from the nagging feeling of failure in the back of her head, this time it was from contentment. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed this. Just getting to sit around with her family and talk, hearing their laughter and baby Nathan’s little chatter. While she was in New York working, she had spent any breaks she got here at home but they weren’t as often as she liked. Her family still were all together here and she wasn’t, and sometimes the sadness that it caused was just too much. In fact, that was the other factor of her quitting her job. Not getting to be there for much of her sister-in-law’s pregnancy and only seeing their sweet baby a few times in his six months of life was the final straw for her. She was tired of missing out on being a part of all of their daily lives, just to do a job that she didn’t even like and although starting all over at nearly 30 years old wasn’t ideal, as she sat in the home she grew up in with the people she loved the most, she knew it was the right choice.

A loud voice cut through her thoughts as Ellie chewed on the spinach salad, making her straighten in shock a bit as her mother said, “Ellie, you’re the one who just moved back here and you’ve barely said two words!”

“I know, I just love hearing you guys talk,” she admitted, smiling as her eyes moved over all of her beloved family members. “It really does feel good to be home.”

“Are you missing New York at all or nursing?” Danny asked her quietly, head tilting in curiosity.

She grimaced slightly, shifting uncomfortably. “If I’m being honest… not really,” Ellie admitted.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m glad to hear that because then that means you’ll stay!” Diana laughed, her bright smile lighting up the cramped dining room.

Ellie laughed a bit as she shook her head, reassuring them, “I’m staying, don’t worry. After I quit my job, there wasn’t anything holding me in New York.”

Her father leaned back in the wooden dining chair, looking at Ellie contemplatively as he asked, “What about that really nice guy you were dating…. What was his name?”

“Will,” she supplied, taking a large sip of wine after she did so.

“Yeah, Will!” Amanda remembered, “He’s so sweet!”

Ellie smiled sadly, feeling herself tense as she prepared to tell them what had happened. “He is sweet but we aren’t together anymore. It didn’t end badly, my schedule just didn’t really let us be together hardly at all so we just decided it wasn’t working,” she informed them, watching as their faces fell one by one as the realization sunk in.

“I’m so sorry Ellie, I can’t believe I didn’t realize you weren’t with him anymore,” Amanda apologized, leaning forward and dropping her fork against her plate with a clatter, her face sympathetic as Ellie met her eyes.

“Well we broke up around the time Nathan was born so you had a few other things on your mind,” Ellie reassured her with a shake of her head.

“I guess that just means we’re going to have to be on the lookout for a new boyfriend for you here in town,” Diana chuckled quietly, reaching over and lifting Nathan out of his height chair to sit in her lap.

“Oh I already have a few people I want her to meet,” Amanda laughed, her face breaking into a grin.

“How about you guys let me get my boxes unpacked first?” Ellie groaned, feeling her face flush as she laughed quietly.

“Okay, fine,” her sister-in-law relented before she added, “But I really do have a feeling this is going to be a whole new chapter for you Ellie. And I think it’s going to be really good.”

“I sure hope so,” Ellie mused quietly, staring down at the table as thoughts swirled through her brain. She tried to convince herself that this would be anything less than a decision made out of frustration and emotion, and that this would lead to anything other than further heartbreak. But that was a hard sell for her brain. But she pushed those thoughts to the side, determined to at least try to enjoy the family dinner, knowing there were so many to come around this old wooden table.

A/N: SURPRISE! We couldn't wait to share Ellie any longer! We've been chipping away at her all week and ugh, we love her so much already. We can't wait to reveal some things and have you all learn everything about her, Chris, and everyone else involved! We're not going to be holding ourselves to a strict weekly schedule of posting every Friday, but that is our goal!

[etoileholland]

Yours truly

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: a letter box shaped bag prompts Tom to tell you just how much you mean to him

Warnings: none; it’s just my usual fluff :)

A/N: surprise, I’m back! It’s been a very long time since I’ve written something, and although the break was nice, I missed you all :( and since I don’t really know who to tag, I’m going to tag my old taglist + mutuals, but if you want to be added to my taglist please let me know!

While you and Tom were out spending the day going window shopping, you passed by the front window of a Kate Spade boutique, and a blur of red made you turn your head to see what was in the window. What you saw was so beautiful, it made you stop suddenly in your tracks.

Tom, who was holding your hand, was not expecting you to stop so suddenly. “Babe, you’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.” He joked, and was expecting you to reply, but instead you were silent. When he turned to see what you were looking at, your hand was pressed to the glass of the display, eyes wide and lips agape. A smile erupted on his lips as he watched how mesmerized you were by a handbag, and how awestruck you were by it.

It was as if you were a kid in a candy store, or maybe it was more like love at first sight. In fact, the way you were looking at the bag is the same way that he looks at you—full of love and adoration.

He knew he had to surprise you with it.

As he stood there with you, your gaze still fixed to the bag, he waited a minute longer until he decided to speak up. “It is a beautiful bag, huh?” At first you didn’t respond, nor did you show any sign of even hearing what he had said. “C’mon,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze and pulling you towards the entrance. “Let’s go take a look at it.”

That sentence snapped you out of your trance, and without skipping a beat, you stopped walking and stood in place. “Oh no, no, no, let’s not do that.” Your voice got a little louder with every no. “I don’t want to be disappointed by how expensive it is. It must cost at least £200 pounds.”

“I doubt-”

“It’s a Kate Spade,” you interrupted, “her bags are ridiculously expensive.” As you spoke, you continuously shook your head no. “I know it’s far too expensive, and I don’t want to be disappointed when I see the exorbitant price tag.” Your eyes became fixed to the pavement, and your eyebrows furrowed downwards, as well as your lips turning into a small frown. “Can we please leave?”

It pained Tom to see you so sad, especially since he could easily buy you the bag—hell, he could buy you a hundred of them, or even purchase everything in the store for you. It was no problem to him, but he knew that him buying you things made you feel uncomfortable, so he decided not to press the issue any further.

“Okay love, let’s go.” He took a step forward, but instead of following him, you stood there still, staring at the bag. A few seconds passed before you slowly took a step forward, and then walked with Tom away from the window display.

“Maybe one day I’ll see it in a consignment shop, and then I’ll be able to afford it.” You uttered under your breath, but it was just loud enough for Tom to hear it.

A week had passed, and Tom didn’t once stop thinking about the bag, and how much you pined over it. Just the night before, he had a dream where he was in his Spider-Man costume, and had broken into the store to get it for you. Of course, he wasn’t going to do that, but it was all he could think about, even in his dreams.

He knew he had to get it for you, because even though you tried to say you were okay without it, he knew it would make you beyond happy if you had it. Yet, he was aware that he couldn’t get it when you were with him, which seemed to be most of the time. He cherished spending time with you, but he just needed some time alone so he could get it.

While he was thinking of a plan, the opportunity arose on its own, no planning on his end needed.

“Your mum wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow to buy a gift for Paddy.” You announced as you walked into the room, and leaned against the door frame.

“Wait, she wants you to go with her, and not me?” He asked, hoping to feign some sadness, even though he was secretly relieved. He loved his mum, but shopping with her could easily become extremely stressful.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, “I thought the same thing, but apparently she wants me to go with her. She said something about me being a ‘more attentive shopper’.” You said with air quotes, and a slight frown on your face.

Tom, who was sprawled out in his bed, positioned himself so that he could tilt his head up to see you. “Well, that’s odd. I can see she’s playing favourites.” He remarked, trying to not sound too relieved.

“That’s okay with you, right?” You questioned, eyes wide.

“Of course love, just don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I won’t, but let me just text her back and tell her that’s okay.” You bounded out of the room quickly, and when you left, he let out a small squeal. His plan was falling into place, and it seemed that the universe was on his side. He took a minute to think about his schedule tomorrow, and luckily he had the day off.

He was bound and determined to get the bag for you.

—

Almost immediately after you left the house to go shopping with his mum, Tom bolted out of the house and ran out to his car, quickly and messily trying to unlock the car door. When he situated himself inside the car, he pulled out of the driveway to head towards the Kate Spade boutique.

The way he was driving was downright terrible, and borderline reckless, but all he could think about was getting the bag for you. On his drive there, the thought of accidentally running into you crossed his mind, but he shook the thought away.

About twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking garage, stopped the car, got out and locked it. He hurried up towards the entrance of the store, and rushed inside, tunnel vision consuming him. As he looked around frantically looking for the bag, he couldn’t seem to see it, but before he could have a chance to inquire about it, a store clerk came up to him.

“May I help you with something?” The assistant inquired, snapping Tom out of his tunnel vision.

“Actually, yes. My girlfriend saw a small purse in the window display last week, and I was wondering if you still happen to have it.”

“By any chance, did it look like a little post box with a letter inside?” She asked with a slightly sad grin, one that caught Tom’s attention.

“Um yes, precisely. Do you still have any?”

Judging by the assistant’s look, he already knew the answer—he was too late. “I’m so sorry, but there was only one left, and that kind woman at the register is about to purchase the last one.” She stated with sad eyes, and it took everything in Tom to not be equally as upset. “They sold so quickly that we had to request a few more shipments, but there were no more left to order yesterday.”

He looked over to see who the woman who was purchasing the last handbag was, and the woman looked back at him with apologetic eyes. It was a woman about the age of 80, and was a very spiffy dresser at that.

“Love, I am so sorry that I’m buying the last one, but I too have had my eye on it for quite a while.” She spoke just loud enough for Tom to hear her from the other side of the boutique, but just quiet enough for him to walk over closer to where she stood at the register. “Do you mind me asking why you wanted this bag? By the way you ran in here, it seemed like it was clearly an important thing to buy.”

“It was.” Tom answered back as he took a second to think about what he wanted to say. He felt so dejected that there weren’t any words to describe his situation, even though it was a very easy situation to understand. “Last week, I was window shopping with my girlfriend, and she saw this bag and immediately stopped in her tracks. She spent 10 minutes staring at it, or at least it felt that long.” He walked over closer to where the register was and leaned one arm against the counter. “She was so awe struck by it, but at the time she couldn’t afford it, and she refused to allow me to buy it.”

“That’s the mark of a remarkable young woman, you know. Most women would expect her man to buy her what she wanted, but the fact that she didn’t want to buy it really says a lot.” She carefully placed her hand on top of Tom’s in a reassuring way. “Cherish her forever.”

Tom’s vision became a bit blurry as he blinked away tears that were trying to form in his eyes. “I will, I promise.” He lightly sighed, allowing himself to take a second to think. “Although it’s a pretty new relationship, so I hope it works out.” His watery eyes cleared up, and he took one more audible breath. Just then, the kind woman gently placed her hand on top of his, and gave it a gentle pat. When he looked up at her, she was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Trust me, love. I’ve been around long enough to know if a relationship will work out or not. I thought the same when I met my now husband when he and I were both 17. I was so worried thinking that it may not work out, but he had the faith to know that it would. And he was right, he usually always is, but I try not to tell him too much so that it doesn’t go to his head.” She laughed lightly, and Tom did as well. “All it takes is love, patience and perseverance. That’s the key to a lasting relationship.”

The assistant was moved by the woman’s touching story, and wiped away a tear off her cheek. The woman looked at her and smiled tearfully too. “How new is your relationship?” She asked.

“It’s felt like ages, but in a good way.” Tom answered with a smile forming on his lips. “But in all actuality, it’s been almost three months, but we met a month prior to dating.”

“So that is pretty new.” The kind old woman answered. “What do you love most about her?”

Love, Tom thought. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t think about all the things he loves about you, but to be honest, he hasn’t told you he loved you yet. He hasn’t wanted to rush anything, even though he’s sure he loves you. The idea of telling you that has scared him, because it always seems that when he tells someone he loves them, they disappear from his life forever, just like his previous relationships before. “Well, she’s so patient with me, and beyond understanding of my hectic life.”

“Go on,” the kind woman prodded, already knowing that he hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but wanting to help coax the feelings out of him.

“I have a stressful job, to put it lightly, and not once has she made me feel bad about having to reschedule a date. She’s also ridiculously intelligent, caring, and beautiful, and I wouldn’t know what to do without her, nor would I want to think about that.”

“Well, I can tell that you love her,” she answered, “and I hope I’m not prodding too much, but may I ask why you haven’t told her yet?”

Tom took a second to compose himself. “I’ve wanted to, but I didn’t want to rush anything. I don’t know if this is going to sound dumb, but I wanted to write her a letter telling her how I feel, and I was going to stick the letter into the letter box, which is super dumb I know but-”

“That’s not.” The woman choked out, dabbing at her eyes where they were starting to well up with tears. “That’s one of the sweetest things I have ever heard, and I am beyond happy to know that the younger generations are still just as sweet and chivalrous as the past ones were. At the time when I was dating my husband, he also wrote me a letter telling me he loved me as he went to fight in the war.” She took out a handkerchief from her coat pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I would ever see him again, but luckily he came home safely.”

“I’m happy he did.” Tom responded with tears in his eyes as well. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome.” She wiped her eyes once more, and motioned for the assistant, who was in the back of the store, to come over to where she and Tom were standing. “Letters are a great way to tell someone something, and I’m glad they haven’t died off with the younger generation.” The assistant came over to the woman, and looked to see what she may need.

“Can I please return this bag back to the store so that this young man can buy it instead?” The assistant hesitantly reached her arm out to take the bag, wanting to make sure that the woman really wanted to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take it from you.” Tom responded hesitantly, his voice upturning at the end of the sentence.

The woman waved her hand in front of Tom. “I’m positively sure. This will be the item that will make you cherish your relationship forever, and will even be your lucky charm.”

As the assistant returned the bag back to the store, Tom quickly reached out his arms and gave the woman a quick hug. “Thank you so much, I can’t thank you enough.” When he pulled away, she placed her hand on his forearm.

“You’re very welcome, and I wish you two a long and beautiful relationship.”

“Thank you again.” He responded quickly, and then a wave of realisation washed over him. “I just realised that I didn’t get your name, how awful of me.”

“Beth.” She answered, “and I already know your name, Mr. Tom Holland.” A look of confusion washed over Tom’s face, and before he could ask how she knew his name, she answered, “My granddaughter is a huge fan. I’ve seen all the Spider-Man movies with her in the cinema, and I must admit that you are a wonderful actor.”

Tom grinned his million dollar smile, and began to blush. “Why thank you Beth, I truly appreciate everything.”

The assistant rung up the bag for Tom, and after he paid for it, she wrapped it up nicely and put it in a colourful bag.

“Good luck with everything Mr. Holland, and when you and this girl get married, you better invite me to your wedding.” She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. “I mean it, you know. I better be there for the wedding.” As she said this, she wrote her name, address and phone number on it. “Promise me I’ll be the first person you call after you pop the question to her?” She slid the paper over to Tom and watched as he read it once before folding it nicely and placing it carefully in his wallet. “I promise I will Beth, I swear on it.”

—

Tom knew what he had to do, or rather, what to say. After his conversation with Beth in the boutique, it seemed as though the words were spilling out of his mouth, and the letter was practically writing itself in his mind. All he had to do now was actually buy something to write on.

He thought about buying some cute stationary to match the aesthetic of the bag, but he knew that the words were so loud in his head, that by the time that it would take for him to buy stationary, the words would be gone.

Jogging back out to his car, he began to rummage through the glove compartment in hopes of finding something, anything to write on.

The only acceptable piece of paper was actually a flyer from a chippy, and the only pencil he could find was a tiny one that’s used to keep the score in golf, but it’ll have to do. The words suddenly came to him, and he scribbled them down so he wouldn’t forget.

A fair amount of time must have passed, because it was now beginning to rain outside. The pattering of the light raindrops that were hitting the roof of the car made the small space feel more comfortable, and added the perfect amount of ambiance to continue writing. In fact, tear stains had made their way onto the paper, which surprised Tom, considering that he didn't even know he was crying. The emotions must’ve got the best of him, but he didn’t mind one bit.

At least now he had a physical reminder of how much he loved you.

Wiping the tears off his face, he took a sigh of relief. Writing that somehow felt liberating, and made him almost want to jump out of the car and start dancing in the rain. He felt on top of the world.

As he drove away from his parking spot, about a block and a half later, he looked up to see a stationary store and parked the car in front of the store, and ran inside.

—

Half an hour later, he made it back home, bag and letter in hand. You were still out with his mum, which to be honest wasn’t shocking. I bet she’ll get home well past midnight, knowing my mum, he thought.

Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison went out to go golfing, so Tom had the whole house to himself. He plopped down on the sofa and pulled out the new stationary and pens that he bought specifically for this.

While at the shop, he found a set of letters that looked almost identical to the letter keychain on the purse, and picked out a black pen. He carefully wrote the new letter with penmanship so precise, it made him feel as though he was back in primary school.

About twenty minutes had passed, but the letter was finally done. He had embellished the envelope by adding a couple hearts in different colours, and then carefully slipping the letter inside. Lastly, he wrote your name in cursive on the envelope, and then placed the completed letter inside the bag, right where the letter compartment was.

After neatly reassembling the bag back in its original wrapping, Tom placed the bag inside his closet and thought of a good time to give it to you. The best time, he thought, was to give it to you next week, right before he was set to fly back to Atlanta to finish filming.

—

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” You whined, which was slightly muffled by Tom’s pillows. Tom was sprawled out on the floor, stuffing different articles of clothing into his luggage.

“I wish I didn’t either darling.” He sighed, “but I promise I’ll be home before you know it.” He answered, knowing that he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. He would be gone for at least 3 months, which was going to feel like an eternity. The thought alone made him almost start crying, but he was trying to stay strong for you. He also couldn’t help thinking that you would leave him, since all of his past girlfriends left him due to the distance. It was just a matter of time before you did the same, but he tried not to dwell on that nagging thought. He knew you were patient, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last.

“Maybe I could come visit you, you know, when I have a chance?” You asked hesitantly, knowing full well that you were busy with work and school.

“I wish you could, but we both know that isn’t plausible right now.” It sounded harsher than he had intended to be, and he mentally grimaced. You, however, knew he was right. He had told you before that he doesn’t want you to sideline your own life because of his.

“I know.” You answered dejectedly, “but if and when I have a break, I’ll come out to see you.”

Tom finished folding his clothes, and stood up. Without saying a word, he looked over at you and noticed that your face was squeezed against his pillow, your eyes closed. And so; he went to his closet and moved the sheets that were covering your present. In one motion, he grabbed the bag and turned on his heels, and made his way back to his bed.

Without you noticing, he sat down and placed the bag in front of you, and poked your shoulder until you looked up at him.

“Hmm?” You inquired. Instead of responding, Tom scooted the bag closer to you, while sitting down on the corner of his bed. “What is it?”

“Sit up.” He instructed, and as you did so, you saw a gift bag placed in front of you. “Open it please.” He insisted, watching intently as you began to take the tissue paper out of the gift bag.

“Tom, this isn’t what I think it is, right?” You trailed off, and while Tom didn’t give you a verbal answer, it was written all over his face.

“The suspense is killing me,” he pleaded, “please open the bag.”

You did as you were told, and gasped when you pulled the purse out of the gift bag. It was even prettier in person, and somehow more breathtaking.

“Babe, I, what?” You choked out, unable to say anymore. A part of you was so happy that he gifted you with this, but another part of you knew how expensive the bag was.

“Now before you get mad, I know you said you didn’t want me to buy it for you, but I just knew that you wanted it, so I just had to treat you.” He stammered out, “please don’t hate me.”

Overcome with emotion, you threw your arms around Tom’s neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap. “I love it.” You whispered into his neck, and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Promise me you’ll keep it?” He asked, “I need you to promise me you won’t try to return it.”

“I promise I won’t. I’ll cherish it forever.”

—

Tom left the house at 2am, and was headed towards the airport. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he’s ever had to do, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

As you laid in his bed, bundled up in his sweatshirt, you clutched the bag to your chest. It was such a thoughtful gesture for him to buy it for you, but a piece of you did feel guilty that he spent the money on you.

The words he told you not to return the bag echoed in your head, and even though he made you swear not to do so, it did cross your mind. So, you thought, the only way you would be less tempted to return it is if you emptied out your old bag and put your belongings in that one instead. It took you a few minutes to do so, but now seeing your things in there made it feel more like yours.

Doing so tired you out, as it was now almost 3am. Clutching the bag as you settled into bed, you drifted off soundly, mentally preparing for your day tomorrow.

—

Waking up without Tom felt so strange, not having him there next to you. You checked your phone and saw a text from him, saying he loved you and landed safely, complete with a ton of heart emojis. It put a smile on your face, and quickly you typed back that you loved him more, and wished him luck on his day ahead.

About an hour later, you were off to your 9am philosophy class, one that you typically dreaded going to. Sometimes it was a heavy class to start the day off, especially when the coursework focused on the depressing aspects of life and hardship. It was a class that you always hoped to skip, but Tom always made sure you didn’t skip, no matter how badly you wanted to.

As you walked up to the door, you began to slow down. Was it worth going to class, knowing that you’re already pretty bummed out because Tom is away?

When the thought crossed your mind, you could hear Tom’s voice in your head convincing you to go. So, you drudged your way to the door and pulled the handle.

You walked to your seat and slumped into your chair, and placed your new bag on the empty seat next to you. When you went to grab your notebook and pencil, you looked up to see your friend Ella sitting in front of you, body turned to see you.

“Ooh, cute bag!” She exclaimed, eyes bright and cheerful.

“Thank you,” you answered, “it was a gift.” Your tone was a bit more curt than you had expected it to be, but you didn’t have enough energy to try to sound happier.

“Wow, I wish someone would gift me a present that nice.” Ella responded.

The girl sitting next to Ella, one that you didn’t personally know, turned around to see your bag.

“My sister has that same bag, and she loves it. It even has a secret compartment inside the letter keychain.” When she said that, your brows furrowed.

“Hmm, really? I didn’t know that.” You reached for your bag and placed it on your lap. When you pulled out the letter compartment, you noticed that, indeed, there was a hidden zipper. You slowly opened the zipper, and saw that there was an envelope inside. “Well that’s odd, there’s a letter inside, I didn’t know it came with one.” When you took a closer look, you saw that your name was written there, in what looked like Tom’s handwriting.

“It didn’t,” the girl replied, “or at least, it wasn’t supposed to.”

Ella gasped dramatically, “Maybe it’s from the person who gave you the gift—you should read it.”

Luckily, you didn’t have to tell her no, because at that moment, the professor began to start his lecture. You zipped the zipper shut and placed the bag next to you, although you noticed your heart was racing. The thought of Tom writing you a letter made you feel giddy, and in a way, saddening. It made you realise that he wasn’t here with you, but instead thousands of miles away. The class went by ridiculously slowly, but when the professor wrapped up his lecture, you bolted out the door. You sped walk to the nearest bench underneath a pine tree, and hurriedly sat down, reaching for the letter.

He had placed the envelope in there neatly, and even wrote your name in cursive. There were little hearts drawn all over the envelope, even going as far as addressing it from Atlanta, as if he really sent it through the post to you.

The attention to detail already made tears fall onto your cheeks, knowing that Tom really went out of his way to write you a letter. Carefully, you pulled the letter out of the envelope, straightening it a bit before reading it.

My eternal love,

I’m glad you found this letter, sealed and ready for you to read it. I had thought about giving it to you before I left, but I hope this makes it even more special.

When I went to get the bag for you, I had a long conversation with a woman who reminded me how important love is, and how I shouldn’t take it for granted. And, after talking to her, she knew that we had the kind of love that will last a thousand years, and span a million lifetimes.

I now just realised that of course, our relationship is still relatively new, but she just knew that what we have is special; and well, I hope so too.

All my thoughts are consumed by you and you alone; about how happy you make me feel, how safe and secure I feel in your arms, and with you, I feel that anything is possible. The world seems kinder and nicer with you in it, and I feel a sense of divine happiness that I’ve never felt before when we’re together.

I haven’t said this to you yet, or at least not out loud, but I love you. I really, truly, love you. I’ve never been more sure of anything, but this I know indefinitely.

I love all of the little things about you-how you are incredibly patient, loving, and caring. I love when you run your fingers through my hair after a long day, calming me down instantly. I love how you give me your million dollar smile when I kiss you on the cheek, and how you make me feel calm and safe in my extremely hectic life.

All I know is that I love you, through and through, and I hope you feel the same way too.

Forever yours- no matter how far away I am from you,

Tom x

By now, you could hardly read through the tears. You had no idea he was so poetic, and how open he was being with you right now, and the image of him writing this heartfelt letter brought happy tears to your eyes. He loved you so immensely, and it was so comforting to have him say it.

As you wiped the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, you knew you had to tell him you loved him back. And so, you opened up your text messages, found your guys conversation, and voice messaged back,

“I love you more.”

——

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sinisterspidey @cali-holland @duskholland  @yourstrulyamour​ @determined-overthinker​

[rudystopit]

24 Hour Diner

[hawks x f!reader]

summary: you're a waitress at a 24 hour diner. a sexy hero walks in after his night shift. he flirts with you the whole night.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, oral (female receiving), riding, overstimulation, and hookup.

wc: 2.4k

the blonde hair pro hair sat in a late diner after a late night shift. he was the only costumer so full attention was on him. a young woman wearing a pale yellow dress uniform walks up to his table. Her name tag say “y/n.” she smiles and hands her the menu.

“How is your chicken, this late at night, Dove?” The girl rolls her eyes at the name, but still smiles hoping his tip will be worth the messed up sleep schedule.

“Ricky is working tonight so they’re gonna be amazing,” you say, turning to place the menu on the counter and pulling out the little notebook. “We’ve got chicken sandwiches, fried chicken, chicken tenders,” you continue through all the chicken items on the menu, but you know he isn’t listening.

“Fried chicken, please,” Keigo smiles and turns to his phone. You scribble down his order and walk back to the window to Ricky.

You could feel his eyes leave his phone and watch how your h/c ponytail sways while you walk. You sigh and lean into the window. Ricky leans over the corner under the window. “The way he’s looking at you, he may tip you big,” he chuckled and tokes the slip. you turn to the coffee pots and pour yourself a cup.

It’s as good as shitty diner coffee can be at 2 am. You lean against wall and watch the pro hero play on his phone. His beautiful golden hair was pushed back with his glasses and his eyes are slowly shutting and opening quickly.

You turn back to the coffee pots and pour another cup. Balancing the creamer and sugar in one hand while trying not to spill the cup was harder than it looks. You make your way to his table. He looks up and gives a confused look.

“On the house, you look like you’re gonna pass out,” Keigo smiles and takes the cup and sugars.

“Thanks little dove,” you roll your eyes while walking to the back.

You hop onto one of the tables Ricky wasn’t using. “He likes you,” you give him a questioning look. “He’s in here every week after his shift and he’s normally cranky and rude due to the being tired and probably starving,” he walks to you. “But tonight he’s sickly sweet and giving you smiles and little pet names,”

You blush a little. Sure Keigo was attractive but you’re just a waitress at a 24 hour diner. You’re covered in grease and your hair is probably slick with sweat. How can this handsome pro hero like you?

“Tell him it’s gonna be a few more minutes and that cake slices are half off due to the hour,” Ricky smacks your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

You make your way to the beautiful blonde. His golden eyes snap up to you with this look of a little kid then it drops when he see you don’t have his food.

“Sorry it’s gonna be a few more minutes,” you blush at his magnificent eyes, “cakes are half off. You know we gotta get rid of them before morning shift and my kitchen is filled with leftovers so,” you ramble on and on while he stares in awe.

“Sure, I’ll take a slice, whatcha got left?” Keigo smiles as you shift to look at the case.

“Um, double chocolate, vanilla strawberry, and I think lemon but i can check if you want,” you don’t notice he is 100% starring down your dress as you lean to see the cakes. you turn back to him and he is zoned out looking at your chest. You blush and try to call him back to earth. You clear your throat, “s-so which one would you l-like?” He snaps back to earth with a shake of his head. His large hand makes it way through his hair and he chuckles.

“Chocolate is fine,” there’s a light tint to his cheeks. you rush away to the cakes and he watches you pull out the tray. Keigo smiles when you run back to the kitchen because you forgot a knife and it only gets wider while you try to figure out how big of a piece you think he wants.

“Ricky,” you yell.

“Four fingers, y/n,” you look embarrassed then measured out the piece and made the cut. You put in on a plate and make sure it looks perfect. you round your way to the table.

He notices your coming his way and Keigo quickly opens his phone. He tries to act as natural as possible. He puts the phone down when you place the plate in front of him. He smiles and thanks you as you walk to the back.

You sigh and lean against the table. Ricky is putting the food in the frier. He turn to you with a plate. a beautiful burger and golden fries. You mouth waters looking at it. He hands you the plate. “Eat,” you didn’t have to be told twice. You devoured the burger and fries within minutes.

“Thank you,” you smile as you go to wash the plate. The late 80s music softly playing through the speakers makes you bob your head to the beat. You place the plate to dry and turn to ricky, who just put Keigo’s food on the counter.

You make your way to the front and behind the bar to pick up the plate. a few quick steps and you standing by his booth. Clean plate in front of him. He was leaning against his palm, sleeping. His phone was on instagram on some craft video. You chuckle and place the plate down.

He snaps awake. “Oh sorry, here’s your food,” you laugh. You pick up the cake plate and make your way to go wash it.

“It was delicious,” he slightly yells. You smile and walk to the back. Ricky is eating some fries.

“Leave it; I’ll wash it. Go talk to him,” he pushes you out the kitchen.

“He’s eating,” you push back.

“He’s like a kid. He’ll talk even if his mouth is full of food,” he lowers himself and pushes you out the door. You stumble and Keigo looks at you. You smile and wave then instantly turn to flip ricky off, who is laughing.

You stand behind the bar and start re cleaning it.

“Do you guys get a lot of people this late?” He asks putting a fry in his mouth.

“Mostly heroes and people getting out of work late,” you smile.

“Do you normally work this time?” He asked looking at his chicken, deciding which piece to eat first.

“Um, not really. I work the lunch and dinner hours, but one of the girls said she can’t do tonight so I’m here,”

“That’s good for me, I guess,” he smiles. You start blushing. he eats his food silently for a few minutes. Then he huffs and says, “hey little dove? Can I get a box?” You quickly drive down to look for the box hoping he didn’t see you face fully red.

You slowly remerge with a box and slowly walk to hand it to him. you heart is pounding in your ears. You plop down the box and pretty much sprint to behind the bar. You face the window to see ricky crying laughing at you.

You hear Keigo stand up and make his way to the cash register. you turn around and quickly type in the machine. “$13.19,” you say not making eye contact. He hands you a $20 and goes to leave. You didn’t notice since you were to worried giving back the right amount of change. You look up and he’s gone.

“Run, bitch,” ricky yells.

You make your way out in the cold morning chasing after a handsome young pro hero with $6.81 in hand. He was standing on the corner waiting for a cab. You run away to him.

“Here,” you hold out your hand.

“Your tip?” He says, laughing. Your face turns instantly red and his laugh only became louder. “Oh boy, someone needs to go to bed,”

You make your way back to the diner. Something grabs you waist and pulls you closer to him. His warm chest makes the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely ape shit. His free hand pulls your chin up to meet his wonderful golden eyes. The hint of lust spreads through his eyes and to your cheeks then down your chest to your core. He smirks and pulls away.

Met with the cold air makes you shiver. He opens the car door and gets in. You stood there too stunned to move. His head pops out, “coming with little dove?” He calls out. You rush into the car. Completely living your phone, wallet, keys and jackets at the diner.

His large hand rests on your upper tight as he tells the driver where to go. You rest your head on his large shoulder as his gently leans into yours.

It didn’t take long till you were at his building. It was a four story brick building. Ivy growing up the side. You followed Keigo to the door as he unlocks It and make his way up the stairs. Once you made it to the old white door, he pushes you up against it.

His warm breath travels down your neck. Your hand snakes to his soft hair. One of his hands slowly make its way but your skirt. you whisper “lets go in,” he snaps out of his daze and unlocks the door.

You follow him in and the second the door slams, you up against it. Kisses pepper your neck and soft pants escape your lips. Keigo finds the spot that makes you melt and gives it a little suck. Your hands grab onto his hair and his side. He makes a low groan which sends a shiver down your back. You arc your back bring yourself closer to him.

He pulls away and takes off his jacket and shirt and you pull off your sneakers and shorts from under your skirt. He grabs you hand and pulls you to him. He holds your hand up and his other hand is on your hip. He presses his forehead to yours and starts swaying back and forth. You start laughing.

“Mmm, sounds like heaven,” he whispers and plants a kiss on your lips. You blush and push your body closer to him. He grunts into the kiss and pulls you to the couch. He twirls you and you skirt flares up as you laugh. You fall onto the couch awaiting Keigo to lean down and kiss you. He kneels on the couch and drags his hands up your legs as he leans down to kiss you, “you’re so beautiful y/n” he whispers inches from your nose.

He peppers your neck with more kisses and hickies. His hand slides up your skirt once again and pulls your panties to the slide. He brings his finger to your clit and light brushes over it causing you to mewl. You feel him smile against your skin.

He slides two fingers through your folds and giving your clit and little flick. You moan arcing your back. He sits up and take both hands at your knees. You blush and close your eyes. Keigo slides his hands up your thighs bring the skirt up with it. You are so happy that it was laundry day and wore your “special occasion” underwear. He smirks and puts his finger around the waistband and painfully pulling them down slowly. he gets them off and toss it into the pile he’s already started with his clothes.

He sinks in between your legs and his hot breath sends a jolt through you. Your hand found its way back to his soft hair as he drags his tongue through your folds. Two fingers slide into his mouth and then alined themself to your entrance. He sucks you clit while sliding the two fingers into you. You moan and thug his hair slightly.

he slowly thrusted his fingers in and out at an aching slow pace.

“Ah~ please faster,” you moaned. He chuckled and speed up. You arc your back and your grip on his hair tightened.

“Fuck, little dove, you’re so tight,” he said causing you to blush even more than you already were. He curled his fingers to hit have spongy parts of you that most men normal don’t get.

The sensation hit your core and you let out a breathy, “fuck.” He continued to move his fingers making sure to hit there a few times. His tongue was doing wonders on your throbbing clit. Within minutes you were reaching your climax. he continued his work while you came.

once your death grip on his hair loosened he sat up and rubbed his head. “Ouch, little dove,” you laugh. He pulls off his pants while you sit up and try to unzip your uniform. After a few seconds of struggling he gets up and unzips it for you while planting little kisses down your shoulder and arm. He pulls the dress over your head to join his pants. With a swift movement he unclips your bra and it too is thrown across the room. He sits behind you on the couch and you turn around to see what he’s doing.

he’s sitting there waiting for you to make a move. You climb up onto his lap and he grabs his member. Long, slow drags across your folds then he positions himself in front of your entrance. You sink down onto his lap. The pressure hurts slightly and you grab his shoulders. “Fuck y/n,” he groans. you sit there getting used to his size. You pepper his neck with kisses and bites.

Soon you rocked your hips and his hands fell to your hips. Keigo slowly picks up the pace till you’re practically bouncing on his lap. He’s enjoying the view and the little noises you make. He starts moaning in your ear, he’s almost done. “You’re doing so well little dove,” one of his hands reaches around to rub your clit.

Within seconds the knot starts to build up and Keigo is close too. Soon you’re coming undone and your pussy starts milking him. That was the push he needed and he’s coming undone. You two ride out your high. You fall onto his chest. Both of you are heavily panting.

through pants he says, “my name is Keigo, by the way,”

“Im y/n” you say back.

“I know. Your name tag is somewhere on the floor,” he laughs.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 3

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: The beginning of your intern year continues.

Warnings: man parts (lol) and talk about rape

You really tried your best, but you couldn’t get the image of a naked Dr. Steve Rogers on the floor of your living room out of your head. You had decided one night that, to help get the image out of your head, you needed roommates. The house that you had inherited was big enough and the longer you lived there, the lonelier it became. So, you created a ‘roommates wanted’ sign and posted it in the locker room before your shift.

You had several interns come up to you explaining why they would be the perfect roommate for you within the first few hours of your shift. It was annoying and you turned every single one of them down, being very particular about who was going to live with you.

“Why do you put up posters for roommates if you don’t want roommates?” Val asked as you, her, and Scott walked down a corridor.

“I do want roommates,” you defended. 

“And why can’t we be those roommates?” Scott wondered

“We’re just together a hundred hours a week, you want to live together too?”

“No,” Natasha responded, walking up to the group. “Ooh, you’re bringing bribes now?” She motioned to the cup of coffee in your hand.

“I need a place to live,” Scott rambled. “My mom irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there.”

“It’s not a bride,” you told Natasha before turning to Scott. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But I can’t put down last, first, and deposit,” Scott argued.

“It’s totally a bride,” Natasha scoffed.

“I can cook,” Val added. “And I can clean.”

“No,” you stated. “I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to, and it's not a bribe, it's a mocha latte.”

“Clint, you’re running the code team,” Gamora ordered as you all walked up to her. “Y/N, take the trauma patients, Natasha, deliver the weekend labs to patients, Val, you’re on sutures, and Scott, you’re on scut.”

“Dr. Gamora,” you called. “I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? I think I'm ready. Mocha latte?” You held the cup out for her.

“If she gets to cut, I want to cut too,” Natasha added.

“Yeah, me too,” Val joined in.

“I wouldn’t mind another shot,” Scott shrugged.

“And if everybody else gets one, then I do too!” Clint said.

“Stop talking,” Gamora demanded. You all fell silent. “Every intern wants to perform their first surgery, that's not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, having the trauma patients taken care of, having the weekend labs delivered, and having someone down in the Pit, doing the sutures.” She swiped the mocha latte from your hand. “No one holds a scalpel until I'm so happy I'm Mary freakin' Poppins.”

“Mocha latte my ass,” Natasha grumbled.

“Why’re y’all still standing there? Move!”

Everyone moved, you heading to the elevator with a few files. You paused in your steps when you noticed who was waiting at the elevator. Dr. Steve Rogers. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before making your way to stand and wait next to him. When he noticed you, he tried to hide the pleasant smile that wanted to take over his face.

“New York has ferry boats,” he stated.

“Yes,” you replied, a bit confused.

“I didn’t remember that. I grew up here then left, now I’ve been living here for six weeks, and I didn’t remember there were ferry boats.”

“Well, Manhattan is an island.”

“Hence the ferry boats.” The elevator arrived and the two of you stepped onto it. “Now I have to like it here. I wasn’t planning on liking it here. I just moved here from the country. I’m supposed to not like big cities like Manhattan. But I have a thing for ferry boats.”

The elevators doors closed, leaving them alone in the elevator. He was leaning against the wall behind you as you stood in the middle, holding the files to your body. You hoped that he couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I’m not going out with you,” you blurted. You don’t know if you were trying to tell him that or if you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t interested.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He questioned. He paused before asking the next, “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss.”

“I'm your boss's boss.”

“You're my teacher. And my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher.”

“I'm your sister, I'm your daughter,” he joked.

“You're sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator.” He stepped towards you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck. You spun around to face him.

“Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line.”

“So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?”

You stared at him for a second, basking in all his attractiveness. It didn’t take you very long to go ‘screw it’ and drop the files you were holding and kiss him. Steve was a tad surprised but caught on quickly. When the elevator dinged, you quickly crouched down to pick up the files and rushed out of the elevator. Steve stood there, looking amused.

“We’ll talk later?” He called after you. You ignored him and he chuckled to himself. “Definitely, later.”

~~~

In between taking care of patients, you had interns begging you to let them be your roommate. You were slowly regretting the idea of roommates the longer the day went on. Thankfully, your pager rang and requested you down in the ER.

“You the surgeon?” A nurse asked as you entered the room.

“Yes,” you replied.

“We’ve got a rape victim. 21-year-old female found down at the park, status: post-trauma, she came in with a GCS of 6, BP 80 over 60, head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated, and she's ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” You were listening but also focused on the girl’s shoes. They were the same ones you had worn to work. “Hey!”

“Uh, sorry,” you stumbled. “Yeah. Call it in to clear CT, let them know I'm coming, load up the portable monitor, call respiratory for a ventilator, I'll get x-rays while I'm down there.”

You quickly learned that the girls name was Mallory and, just by you reading the scans alone, she would be needing surgery. Dr. Banner and Dr. Rogers were both called in while you were allowed to watch and hopefully assist.

“She’s going to spend a hell of a lot of time in recovery and rehab,” Dr. Rogers stated.

“If she survives,” Dr. Banner added.

“What is she, like, 5'2", a hundred pounds, she's still breathing after what this guy did to her? If they catch the guy, they should castrate him.”

“See how shredded her hands are? She tried to fight back.”

“Tried to?” Dr. Stark repeated, walking into the room. “Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass.”

“So, we have a warrior amount us, huh?” Rogers questioned. 

“Hell yeah we do! I just came in to tell you about the rape kit and to see if you needed me anytime soon. Can’t have the poor girl be reminded of the incident with so many scars.”

“Mallory,” you interrupted. “Her—her name is Mallory.”

“Mallory,” Rogers and Stark repeated. 

“I think I may have found the cause of our rupture,” Banner said, pulling out a piece of flesh. “What is this?” He held it up. “Does anyone know what this is?”

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped, with Dr. Stark snickering from the sidelines.

“What? Spit it out, L/N.”

“She bit it off.”

“Bit off what?”

“That’s his…” You swallowed. “His penis.” Shocked groans filled the OR. “She bit off his penis.”

“Told you she kicked his ass!” Stark exclaimed as Banner couldn’t toss the piece of flesh into the try fast enough. 

~~~

After the surgery, the penis was placed in a small cooler. You were tasked to bring it to Fury for the police. You knocked at the door of his office, where an older woman is in there.

“Hi, is the chief in?” You asked.

“He’s on his way,” she responded. “Is that it?”

“Can I see it?” You looked down at the box and then up again. “No, forget I asked.”

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Fury greeted as he entered, going to his desk.

“You too, sir,” you responded with a nod. “Listen, so they said to bring this to you,” you lifted up the cooler. “So…?”

“Yes, for the police,” Fury responded.

“Right.”

“When did the police say they'll come?” Fury asked his assistant.

“You know how slow they are,” she answered. “So, she’d better take it with her.”

“What?” You questioned.

“You have to take it with you.”

“Chain of custody rules,” Fury explained. “All medical matter in a rape must stay with the person who collected it, until it's placed in police custody.”

“You collected the specimen, so you have custody.”

“Custody of a penis…” You said.

“Yes,” Fury answered. “Until the cops come for it.”

“Okay. Well, what am I supposed to do with the penis?”

Fury simply shrugged before excusing you. You huffed, leaving the office with the cooler. You wandered the halls until you saw Clint working at a desk. You walked over, setting the cooler down and causing Clint to look up at you.

“What’s that?” He pointed to the cooler as he asked.

“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know,” you responded.

“I do want to know. Really.”

“You really want to know?” Clint nodded. “It’s a severed penis.”

“Okay… I didn’t really want to know.”

“Told you.”

“I didn’t know why I have to be the one who gets hugged,” Natasha complained to Peter as they walked up.

“Because, I don’t do that,” Peter replied. “Besides, you're the ovarian sister here.”

“Did you just call me an ovarian sis— an ovarian— since when has the possession of ovaries become an insult?”

“Y/N’s carrying a penis around in a jar,” Clint interrupted.

“Oh, from the rape surgery?” Natasha looked around.

“Yeah,” you answered. “And it’s not a jar, it’s a cooler.”

“Talk about taking a bite out of crime.” Natasha chuckled as she left.

You were suddenly lost in your head, unable to stop thinking about Mallory’s shoes. They were the same as yours. You had worn them to work today, which was weird. You never really wear them.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah… it’s just… Mallory's shoes. The rape victim, Mallory, her shoes. I have the same ones. In my locker. And I normally never wear them, because they're not comfortable, but today I did, and she was wearing the same shoes, and it's just… stupid, and I'm tired, and forget it.”

“You know what you need?” Clint stared at you.

“No. It’s stick and twisted. We said last time was the last time.” Clint looked away. “You’ve been doing it without me?”

“Nancy Reagan lied. You can't just say no. Come on.”

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?”

“I'm doing it. You can come with me… or you can stay here, and be miserable.”

“Fine,” you tried to hold back a smile as you followed Clint. 

He led you to the nursery, where you two stood at the window and watched the babies. You laughed as Clint did some baby talk.

“You are such a woman,” you laughed.

Clint’s pager beeped before he could retorted. “It’s a code,” he sighed. “I gotta go.” 

He left, leaving you to sigh as you watched the babies.

“You are really cute,” you whispered as you looked at them.

As you watched them, you noticed at one of the babies was struggling. His face was slowly turning blue. You quickly entered the nursery, setting the cooler to the side before checking the babies chart. Then you sided your stethoscope to check on the babies heart.

“What are you doing in here?” A Peds Intern asked, walking into the room.

“There were no tests ordered,” you answered. “And the baby has a murmur.”

“I know.”

“He turned blue.”

“You're surgery, you're not authorized to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?”

“Are you going to do any tests?”

“It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age.”

“So you're not going to do any tests.”

“He's not your patient, he's not even on your service.”

“Are you sure it’s benign?”

“I'm a doctor too, you know. You should get out of here.”

Deciding you’d rather not get in trouble, you grabbed the cooler and left. You were stopped along your wandering by more interns who wanted to room with you. After having listened to three of them, you walked away, still unimpressed, and went to Mallory’s room. You were looking at her through the window when Dr. Rogers came up.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “I've called every hospital in the county. Sooner or later, the guy that did this is going to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around is going to nail him.”

“Where is her family?” You asked.

“Doesn’t have any.”

“No siblings?”

“No. Both parents are dead. She just moved to New York three weeks ago. Welcome to the city.” When you didn’t give a response he turned to look at you. You were lost in your thoughts. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just… I just have to do something. I have to go.”

“Right. I’m going to sit with her.”

You nodded before rushing away to find Dr. Banner.

“Dr. Banner?” You called when you saw him.

“Mmm?” He hummed, turning to face you.

“There's a baby up in peds, I saw him have a tet spell, and I think I hear a murmur.”

“Mmm. Did peds call us for a consult?”

“Actually, no. They’re not doing anything about it—“

“So you want me to what?”

“If you could just go up and look at him—“

“Mm-hmm, not without a Peds consult.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’m a busy man, L/N, and there are rules. Look, it’s not like I’m the Chief or something.”

Then he stocked off, leaving you frustrated. 

“Stupid rules.”

~~~

Eventually, you found a spot in the lobby to sit. Just waiting for the cops to show up.

“What’re you doing down here?” Natasha asked when she came across you.

“Just sitting here with my penis,” you responded. “What about you?”

“Hiding from Peter.” She sat beside you.

“I kissed Steve.”

“You kissed Steve.”

“In the elevator.”

“Oh, you kissed him in the elevator.”

“I was having a bad day. I am having a bad day.”

“Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Captain McDreamy.” You both stood up.

“Well, that, and you know, carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy.”

“Mmm. Clint said Mallory was wearing your shoes.”

“Yeah. It’s weird, right?”

“I think it’s weird that you care.”

“I think it’s weird.”

From outside, a car swerves. You and Natasha could hear it from inside, causing you to rush out. A man staggered out of the car, clothes soaked in blood, mainly around his crotch. He collapses. Other doctors and nurses followed you out and immediately began checking on him. You immediately knew that the guy was the owner of the penis you had been carrying around all day. The other doctors brought him into a trauma room. You followed, quickly calling security.

“So, what’ve we got?” Gamora asked as she entered.

“Take a look,” you responded.

“What?” She leaned closer. “Alright, let’s get him to OR 1. Y/N, you call the Chief and let him know we got the rapist.”

~~~

You and Natasha were in the OR with Gamora and Stark. They were working on the rapist.

“I saw Mallory,” you said, eyes on the operating table. “You can’t believe the beating that she took. And then to see this…”

“It's like that old saying, you should see the other guy,” Natasha said.

“Okay, kiddos, why are we not attempting to reattach the severed penis?” Dr. Stark asked.

“Teeth don’t slice, they tear. You can only reattach with a clean cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife…”

“Besides,” you continued for Natasha, “the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with.”

“Right,” Gamora agreed, “so what do we do?”

“Sew him up minus a large part of the family jewels,” Natasha answered.

“And his outlook?”

“He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very, very long time,” Natasha added.

“Oh, too bad.”

“Shame.”

“I can’t imagine not having sex,” Stark commented. “I think that I would just end my life if I couldn’t do a round every day.” Everyone looked at him. “What? It shouldn’t be that surprising.”

“No wonder, Dr. Potts keeps turning you down,” Gamora said.

“I’ll get her one day. Just you wait. I’m going to marry that woman if it’s the last thing I do.”

~~~

You met with the police after the surgery where they told you that they couldn’t send their crime scene guy down for hours. Annoyed, you searched for your intern friends. You found them in the empty corridor, sitting on the beds.

“So, the police say that they can’t send down the crack crime scene guy for hours,” you told them as you entered, sitting down beside Natasha. “So I have to spend the night with a penis. Peter, don’t say it.”

“Ahh, it was too easy anyway,” Peter responded.

“Who here feels like they have no idea what they’re doing?” Scott asked. Everyone of you, but Peter, raised a hand.

“I mean, are we supposed to be learning something?” Clint wondered. “Because I don’t feel like I’m learning anything.”

“Except how not to sleep,” Val added.

“It’s like there’s this wall,” Natasha said, “and the attending and the residents are over there, being surgeons, and we’re over here, being—“

“Suturing, code running, lab delivering penis-minders,” you grumbled.

“I hate being an intern,” Peter stated.

Gamora walked into the hallway, looking expectant. All of you interns quickly got up and took your leave. All the others had things to do, so you found yourself in front of the babies again. As you looked at the baby you’re so worried about, you noticed the parents. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go up to them.

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile.

“Hi,” the mother greeted back.

“Is he yours?” You nodded to the baby.

“Yeah,” the mother smiled.

“He’s adorable… Have you noticed anything that would concern you?”

“No,” the father responded. “Have you?”

“Earlier today I noticed him turning blue.”

“Blue?” The mother repeated.

“Yes. I checked him and I heard a murmur.”

“We were told that the murmur was benign,” the father stated.

“I don’t think it is. I think—“

“You are so out of line,” the Peds Intern interrupted.

“She says the murmur might not be benign,” the father said.

“I think we should do an echo, to check,” you suggested.

“This is your career,” the intern said, going to get her resident.

“There’s really no reason to get alarmed,” you told the parents.

“What’s the problem?” The resident asked, coming back with the intern.

“If our baby is sick, we want him treated,” the mother ordered. “Now.”

“Who said your baby was sick?”

“Her,” the Peds Intern answered, pointing to you. “The surgical intern who has no business on our service.”

“Who authorized you being here?”

“I was just,” you began, “actually—“

“I did,” Dr. Banner came up from behind you. “Could you excuse us for a second?” Dr. Banner took the resident to the side, but not far enough for you to not hear. “Are you messing with my intern, Dr. Keener?”

“No, sir,” the resident responded.

Dr. Banner turned back to you and the other intern. “Give me the chart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the intern said, giving up the chart, “I checked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You can guarantee that he is fine, you are 100% sure.”

The intern looked hesitant.

“How sure are you?” The resident questioned.

“I don’t know,” the intern responded. “75%.”

“Not good enough,” Banner said. “He’s my patient now. That okay with you, Dr. K?”

“Absolutely,” the resident responded.

“He can take our patient?” The intern asked.

“He’s an attending.”

“Which means I can do whatever I want,” Banner replied before heading to the parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I’m Dr. Banner, head of cardio. We’re going to run some tests and give you an answer within the hour. Excuse me.” He turned to you. “L/N.” He motioned for you to follow, which you quickly did. “I want an EKG, a chest x-ray, and an ECHO. I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“I’m a busy man.”

You quickly ordered the tests then wandered the hospital more, since you weren’t allowed to do anything while you were watching the penis. After a little while, you found Dr. Banner again.

“Well?” You asked as you walked up to him.

“It’s a birth defect,” Dr. Banner replied. “Tetrology affirmed lower pulmonary artresia. You were right. I'm booking the OR for tomorrow.”

“Thank you for backing me up on this.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa. You were right. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again...going to the parents behind a doctor's back? Trying to steal a patient from another service? I will make your residency year hell on earth.”

He walked off and you smiled slightly to yourself. You made your way back to the babies, where you watched, from the other side of the window, Banner talk to the parents.

“His heart surgery is scheduled for the morning,” the Peds Intern told you. “I really did think I was right, you know.”

“I know. We almost never are. We're interns,” you responded. “We're not supposed to be right. And when we are, it's completely shocking.”

“Are you— I mean, being an intern, do you feel…”

“Terrified. 100% of the time.”

“Good, it’s not just me.”

“No.”

You decided, after finishing up with the babies, to go check on Mallory. When you arrived, you realized that Steve was still in there.

“How is she?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“No change,” Steve answered with a sigh.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Mm-hmm. Yup… If I was in a comma, I’d want someone to be here. I know I would have people there. Having no one? Can’t imagine that.”

“I can.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

“I do. Just… I don’t think they’d come.”

Steve watched you carefully before speaking again. “So… we’re kissing but we’re not dating?”

“I knew that was going to come up.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. I’m all for the kissing. More kissing, I say.”

“I have no idea what that was about.”

“Is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints. Put a condom in my wallet.”

“Shut up now.” Steve laughed. “There was this baby up in the nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her, and she's got nobody.”

Suddenly, Mallory’s machine’s began beeping. You quickly hit an alarm on the wall.

“Her ICP’s double, get an OR!” Steve yelled. “Put her in for a craniotomy!”

~~~

You waited outside the OR, still watching over the stupid penis, while Steve operated on Mallory. You were nervous for her and felt bad that no one was there for her. Once the surgery was over, Steve exited the OR, walking past you. When he noticed you were there, he turned back.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I, uh, I had to leave her skull flap off, till the pressure in her brain goes down.”

“She’s not going to make it, is she?” You asked.

“She’s going to be fine.”

“If she ever wakes up.”

Steve nodded. “If she ever wakes up.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked away. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your pager went off. You looked down to see it was the Chief. “I’ve gotta go. That’s the Chief. Maybe I can finally get rid of this thing.” You lifted the cooler slightly.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Good luck.”

~~~

“So here is where you put the signature, down here, the initials,” Fury’s assistant pointed out on a paper.

“Mmm,” you hummed with a nod, taking the paper and pen from her. “Okay.”

“It just says that the penis was never out of your sight.”

“Of course.” You sighed and handed over the paper. “There you go. One penis.” You glanced at the clock and realized that it was time for the baby’s surgery. “Am I all done here? I kinda want to go watch a surgery.”

“Sure.”

You tried to rush, but not rush, to the OR Dr. Banner was working in. When you arrived, you found a spot in the back.

“We'll be using a medium approach for a trans-ventricular repair with a right ventriculostomy,” Banner explained. “Let’s open him up. L/N!” He looked around for you.

“Yes, sir?” You replied.

“Go scrub in. When we've finished cracking the baby's chest, I'll let you hold the clamp.”

“Seriously?” You tried to contain your excitement.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You rushed to scrubbed in. And, let’s just say, holding onto that clamp was a rush and just what you needed to help brighten your shift. After that, you went to watch the babies, Val, Clint, and Scott all joining you.

You let out a sigh. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “You guys can move into the house.”

“Yes! Yes!” The guys shouted.

“I can’t believe you caved!” Val laughed.

“I can’t believe it either,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile.

~~~

You changed out of your scrubs and stared at the shoes in your locker. You couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was that you had decided to wear those shoes today. With determination, you shut the locker on your shoes and went to the elevator. Steve was there waiting.

“So… it’s intense…” he started. “This thing I have for, ah, ferry boats… I mean.”

You smiled at him. “I’m so taking the stairs this time.” You walked off.

“No self-control,” he called after you. “It’s sad. Really.” He chuckled to himself as you continued to walk away. “Wow… this is so—“

“Weird. It’s weird,” Dr. Stark came up, ready to go too. “Like I said before, that look is bad news. And you—“

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut it Tony?”

“Fine.” Tony held his hands up. “But, seriously, don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit. 

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall. 

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine. 

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor. 

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store. 

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted. 

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right? 

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :) 

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again. 

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it. 

I’m counting on it. 

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind. 

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.” 

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing. 

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs. 

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.” 

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up. 

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?” 

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded. 

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.” 

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.” 

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back. 

October 9 (sat) 

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime. 

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

 It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” 

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all. 

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?” 

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—” 

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?” 

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.” 

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.” 

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them. 

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria. 

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.” 

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged. 

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head. 

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks. 

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends. 

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself. 

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls. 

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.” 

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline. 

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.” 

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug. 

“I will,” she responded. 

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.” 

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person. 

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.” 

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high. 

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha. 

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked. 

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted. 

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account. 

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases. 

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.” 

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.” 

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle. 

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to. 

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically. 

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked. 

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in. 

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised. 

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him. 

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure. 

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch. 

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously. 

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them. 

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.” 

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted. 

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.” 

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?” 

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging. 

“Honestly hour.” 

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off. 

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.  

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.” 

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively. 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.” 

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.” 

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.” 

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.” 

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.” 

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said. 

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was. 

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked. 

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag. 

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”  

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm. 

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively. 

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.” 

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?” 

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously. 

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food. 

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.” 

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening. 

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?” 

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?” 

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p. 

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by. 

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.” 

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense. 

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him. 

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.” 

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.” 

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently. 

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.” 

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions. 

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.” 

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.” 

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting. 

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all. 

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

[nimblermortal]

@petermorwood, it was indeed about the lemony cake. Tea wants to be particularly clear that you can cover the cake in the oven to prevent undo crisping, and express concern about whether you have an oven thermometer. There are 3 cake recipes below.

Unit notes: The American units are the originals so trust them if there’s a discrepancy, t is teaspoon, T is tablespoon, c is cup, “ is minute in case I forgot to change that anywhere.

Sour Cream Marbled Pound Cake

My favorite, but obviously the density and the sour cream would make it harder to adapt to a lemony cake. If you were to do so, don’t bother with the chocolate or the marbling.

225 g/8 oz semisweet chocolate 225 g/2 sticks butter, softened 500 g/2.5 c granulated sugar 6 eggs 375 g/3 c flour 1/4 t salt 1/4 t baking soda 240 mL/1 c sour cream 2 t vanilla 1 T almond extract

Prepare bundt pan: grease with butter, dust with sugar. You will probably want a non-bundt pan in order to have consistent drizzle, but bundt is my default for cakes. Cream butter and sugar 6 mins. Beat eggs in, 1 minute per egg. Mix dry. Alternate dry and wet - fold in 1/3 of dry at a time. Melt chocolate. Pour 1/2 mixture into bundt pan. Mix chocolate with other half. Put on top, dab with spatula to marble, bake. Bake 80 mins at 160 C/325º F. I always forget to dab with a spatula and then it’s not quite as pretty/exciting. Cool like 2-3 mins - just long enough to make the next step possible. Use chopstick around the edges to loosen cake on inside and outside rim. Go round twice, do get a consistent line around it. Flip and let heat loosen the top rim. Shake after 5-10 mins.

“Brazilian Bolo”

Bolo just means cake, hence the scare quotes. Brazil has a thing about tapioca sorts of textures, it took me a while to get my head around. This cake tries to satisfy that with a lot of cornstarch, but doesn’t actually end up being extreme about the texture - it just ends up being a dense cake. Since I don’t like cake texture, this is perfect for me. It does however contain lemon flavor already, without having to do a drizzle. However, I’ve only made this once, a couple months ago, and the book I got it out of is remarkably stingy with the flavor, so if you have any doubts, add more lemon.

250 g/2 c flour 60 g/1/2 c cornstarch 2 t baking powder 5 eggs, separated 200 g/1 c sugar The original recipe called for 1.75 c but I am not Like That so I used one and scanted it and it was better that way. Classic American recipe. 240 mL/1 c coconut milk, well stirred before measuring 1 lemon, zested and juiced. NOT a Meyers lemon, that was a mistake. Standard lemon preferable! Some powdered/confectioners sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 175 C/350 F. Grease your pan and dust with flour. Sift the dry ingredients together; add the lemon zest. Beat the egg whites until stiff but not dry. In a separate bowl, stir the egg yolks and sugar and lemon juice together. Gradually stir the yolk mixture into the egg whites, whisking or beating at medium speed until incorporated. About about 3/4 c of the dry ingredients, then about 1/3 of the coconut milk, and mix well. Repeat in thirds until all is one. Pour the batter into the pan. Bake about 40 mins or until whatever small object you care to insert comes out clean. Recipes always say skewer, I use a chopstick. I’m more likely to have chopsticks than skewers in my kitchen. If you’re going to dust with sugar, wait until it’s fully cool. Without the sugar, it glows; with the sugar, it has a rather lacy effect, but ultimately I decided I liked the glow better and regretted dusting.

Rum Cake

My cousin adored this stuff until my parents got divorced. The trick is to keep drizzling until Mary Berry would be sloshed. I haven’t made it since I became an adult ever, so I had to ask all round the family for the recipe - Tea told me Mum had it, Mum said our aunt had it, the aunt said it was in the cookbook from the great-grandmother that I don’t have (the cookbook, not the grandmother), Mum’s just moved so she can’t find it and told me to ask Oma, Oma hasn’t got it and said to ask my great-aunts, Tea says she has it but it’s disappointing once you know what’s in it... The point is, I know this one will take a drizzle.

Tea says to describe this as mid-century midwestern - fast, delicious, sweet as hell. Like all mid-century midwestern food, knowing what’s in it dampens your enjoyment somewhat.

150g/1 c chopped nuts 1 box yellow cake mix (sorry, can’t convert that for you) 1 3.75 oz instant pudding (that’s 100 g but like. It’s a unit of instant pudding. What do you want from me?) 120 mL/1/2 c cold water 120 mL/1/2 c dark rum 4 eggs 120 mL/1/2 c vegetable oil

for the glaze: 120 g/1 sticks/1/4 pound butter 60 mL/1/4 c water 200 g/1 c sugar 120 mL/1/2 c dark rum

Preheat oven to 325 F. Grease and flour your cake pan. Sprinkle nuts over bottom of prepared pan. Mix all cake ingredients together and pour over nuts in prepared pan. Bake 1 hour. Cool and invert onto serving plate. While cake is cooling, prepare glaze. Spoon glaze over top and sides, allowing cake to absorb glaze. Repeat until all glaze is used up.

Note: If using cake with pudding in mix, omit pudding and reduce eggs to 3 and oil to 1/3 c.

[phat-fellas]

Contrasting Roommates: Chapter 3

Contrasting Roommates

Here’s Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Nearing the end of the semester, I started noticing stretch marks. Some by my belly button, a couple on each love handle, and some on my thighs. Interestingly enough, Adam and Taylor noticed the very same evening that I did.

“Hey Ryan, what are these?” Adam asked, sitting on the couch to my right.

Adam pinched the problem areas on my stomach. “Does that hurt?”

“Nah I’m good,” I responded.

Taylor, sitting on the other side of me, chimed in.

“Yeah dude, what weight milestone is this? It looks like you gained like another 20 pounds in the last month.”

“I mean so have you, though probably in muscle mass.”

Taylor laughed and flexed his bicep, so I took the opportunity to cop a feel.

“Hard as a rock, don’t be jealous,” he joked.

Adam still hadn’t finished squeezing and prodding at my belly. “I’ve got to know how much you weigh now, I mean you’re getting pretty big man.”

I had weighed myself the night before and was weirdly excited to tell them, it had been a couple months since the initial weigh in. Taylor was pretty much right, I had gained almost 20 pounds in just the last month.

“It said 250 last night. That’s like 80 pounds since last school year.” I jiggled my large belly for emphasis.

“Makes sense, we know you love food,” Adam said, looking over at two empty pizza boxes.

Pizza was almost a nightly ritual for us three, and tonight was no exception. It was always the same order: 1 pizza for me, Adam and Taylor get the other. Much of the time, they would only eat 2 slices each, so I end up finishing the other half, making it 1 and a half pizzas for me. Adam and Taylor always told me they don’t like leftovers anyways.

A couple hours later, the three of us were drunk. More drunk than usual. Adam and Taylor were lightweights, but my weight gain changed that for me. I must’ve been on my twelfth beer. By now, the three of us moved to my bedroom to watch a horror movie. Not my idea, but I know bros will be bros and sometimes decide to watch a movie while crammed in the same bed.

Eventually, we were too drunk to stay awake much longer. Adam and Taylor were either too drunk or too lazy to go to their own beds.

“Dude lets cuddle,” Taylor slurred.

“For sure for sure,” I said.

Taylor positioned me as the little spoon. He put his arm around me, though I was too big for him to reach all the way around my bloated stomach. I was on the left side of the bed, and Adam was sadly left out. He peered over, and driven by his drunken jealousy, Adam joined in on the spooning, making Taylor both the big and the small spoon. Adam reached around and over Taylor to rest a hand on my belly. Both of them gently squeezed and rubbed my bloated belly until they fell asleep, and I’m sure neither was aware that the other was also doing it. At that moment, I remembered all the times I dreamed of being in a tri-spoon with two muscular model-like boys.

To my delight, Adam and Taylor drunkenly coaxed all of us onto my bed for a movie almost every weekend night from then on. The more weight I gained, the more Adam and Taylor competed for the spot in bed next to me for the eventual cuddling.

I was beginning to think that maybe my allegedly straight roommates were into it?

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Keeping Me Alive

Chapter 10: Get Out Alive

by @dracusfyre​

    Now

“Save who you can,” Tony said to himself as he splashed water on his face.

He blindly grabbed for a towel and dried off, meeting his eyes in the mirror for what felt like the first time in years. “Don’t look back.” He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and went out into his bedroom. He picked up the photo that sat on his bedside table and took it out of the frame, tucking it into the pocket of his pants. Glancing around his bedroom, he nodded once, and went down to his workshop. He saluted the painting of Howard on the wall then dug out the photo of the Winter Soldier from his desk and set it on fire, dropping it to the concrete floor and watching it burn.

 “Ready, JARVIS?” he asked. He ground the last bit of embers into the concrete to put them out.

 “Are you ready, sir?”

 “Yep,” Tony lied. “Let’s rock and roll.”

“Let it Burn Protocol initiated.” As JARVIS spoke, Tony felt the first explosion rock the house, rumbling through his feet as he stepped into the matte black suit in the gantry in the middle of the room. The facemask closed over his face as cracks appeared in the walls of the lab, and as the ground fell away from his feet he was already in the air.

36 days ago

Once he was sure that Stane was gone for good, Tony went down to his work shop and said, “Wake up, JARVIS, we have work to do.”

Sitting down at his workstation, he opened up the master file with the suit schematics and eyed the hologram critically. The hardest part of the suit to master was going to be the flight system, so he isolated and magnified that part from the diagram, studying the repulsors built into the gauntlets and boots with stabilizers along the back. “Start machining the parts I’m going to need for these,” he said. “Circumstances have changed and we are going to need to hit the ground running, so to speak."

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS said, and the whirring of machinery became a low hum, punctuated by sharp bzzts as parts were cut and de-burred. Tony studied the prototype, exploding the diagram, moving it around, and after a while came up with a short list of non-critical design items he could spoon feed to Hydra to show his ‘enthusiastic’ cooperation. An hour later, the whirring stopped and the sudden quiet broke Tony out of his concentration. He sat up and stretched, wincing as his back popped. Standing, he went over to the coffee maker and started a new pot, then dug under the counter for his emergency stash of scotch, splashing a fingers worth in his mug while he waited for the coffee.

He had realized two very important things today. The first was that the Soldier needed saving even more than Tony did; the knowledge that the man was Hydra’s slave, kept ignorant and locked up until Hydra needed an attack dog, had shifted Tony’s world view like a kaleidoscope, shaking up everything he thought knew and making an entirely new pattern. The second was that he couldn't keep waiting around for a chance to escape, he was going to have to make one.

This suit, he knew, was the key to both of those realizations. But this half-baked, insane plan to rescue the Winter Soldier was going to kick the anthill big time and Tony also knew he needed to have some kind of plan for dealing with Hydra in the aftermath. This wasn’t going to be like Afghanistan, where he thought he was out and got pulled right back in again. The stakes were way too high this time.

With that thought in mind, when the coffee was done, he filled up his mug and went back to his desk. He pulled up the operating program for the suit and created a subroutine to overload the reactor, ignoring the flash red warning that said that this would result in a critical core breach and an uncontrolled chain reaction, and set the activation code as “Last Resort.”

One way or another, he thought as he sipped on his doctored coffee, this suit would be his way out.

  32 Days Ago

Tony stared tiredly at the news as he took a swallow of stone-cold coffee. The breaking report was about the assassination of an Iranian nuclear scientist. Iran was already blaming Israel, who was of course denying it, but in response Iran was threatening to pull out of the treaties against nuclear enrichment and swore they could split the atom within the year. Political and military analysts were seeing storm clouds on the horizon unless someone backed down and talking about how another war would tax America's already overstretched military. Tony, meanwhile, could tell that this assassination had Hydra's fingerprints all over it, and knew that this was almost certainly the work of the Soldier. "JARVIS," Tony said, muting the television. "I need you to break into Hydra’s servers and find everything you can on the Winter Soldier. Cross reference it with the name James Barnes.” There was a chance that Stane had made the name up, but it seemed unlikely – from what he could tell, the Soldier would have responded to anything, and ‘James Barnes’ was a lot more specific than a simple ‘John Smith’ or ‘Joe Blow.’ “Actually, while you’re at it,” Tony said, having a sudden thought, “I want all of Hydra’s files. Copy them to one of SI’s remote servers.”

Hours later, Tony was just finishing up the wiring assembly for the repulsor system when his computer dinged. Setting down the soldering gun, Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly and turned on his monitor to see what JARVIS had found. To his dismay, there were thousands of files on the Winter Soldier; as he scrolled down the list, he realized that they went back decades. “Fuck,” he said aloud as he looked at the dates and the file names, most of which were a string of letters and numbers that no doubt made sense to someone in Hydra but gave no clue as to what the file contained. He buried his head in his hands and tried not to cry at the enormity of the task in front of him. He was so tired that his eyes were blurry and his head was pounding, but every time he tried to close his eyes he kept seeing James’s body arching with pain and hearing his screams.

“Sir, it has been twelve hours and thirty-six minutes since you last ate,” JARVIS said. “And you’ve made four mistakes in the past fifteen minutes. You need to rest.”

“I have?” Tony pulled his magnifying glass back over to the circuit board and saw what JARVIS was talking about. “Shit. Alright, fine.” He pushed away from the desk and went to the bar sink next to the coffee pot and ran his head under cold water for a second. He came up and wiped his face and the back of his neck, shivering as water dripped from his hair down his back, and went upstairs to look for food. Leaving his work shop felt like he was crossing into hostile territory, like he could be attacked at any moment. And he could, he thought as he opened the refrigerator. Stane had made sure that he always had free access to Tony’s home, because a locked door meant secrets and the only secrets Hydra allowed were their own. He wished he could just walk away from this place, blow it up and find a place to live that Hydra had never stepped foot in, a place that would feel like it was his –

He froze with a jug of orange juice in his hand. He stood there, thoughts racing, for so long that the chiller on the refrigerator came on with a hum. Then Tony said “Huh” to the boxes of leftovers and absently shut the fridge door, OJ still in hand.

25 Days Ago

“JARVIS, this doesn’t make sense,” Tony said, rereading the file for the fifth time. “This thing is saying that the first Winter Soldier was James Barnes, but the current Winter Soldier is James Barnes.” It was hard to think that it was a clerical error, since the earliest files went back to the 1940s and consisted of paper files that had been scanned into a computer sometimes in the 80s. “Is it an alias? Are all Winter Soldiers called ‘James Barnes’ as a security precaution?”

“Facial pattern analysis indicates that it is the same James Barnes,” JARVIS said, and it flashed up an image that looked like a scanned-in polaroid; in it the man was unconscious on an operating table, face dirty and bloody and pale. Next to it JARVIS pulled up an image from Hydra’s own security footage of what the Soldier looked like without his goggles and mask on. There was a vague resemblance to Tony’s eyes, but as the facial recognition algorithm measured the features in each photograph, the conclusion was mathematically precise – there was a 99.7% chance that it was the same man in each photo.

Tony’s face went slack with shock. “How is that possible? He’d have to be almost 100 years old!”

“That part I don’t know, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Tony went back to the original file, reading it more carefully. “James Buchanan Barnes,” he read. “Born 1917. American POW.” He paused at that and sat back in his chair. “Why does that sound familiar?”

In response, JARVIS pulled up a Wikipedia page on Tony’s screen. As he read it, Tony was speechless; for a long moment, he flipped screens between the dead-eyed man from Hydra’s surveillance footage and the smiling man with his arm around Captain America, but this time he didn’t need JARVIS to tell him that it was the same man. The implications made his stomach turn, and as he stared at the screen he exhaled shakily and covered his mouth with his hands. 80 years. James Barnes had been in Hydra’s clutches for 80 years.

He stood suddenly, sending his chair rolling backwards. “We’re doing another flight test. Right now.” 80 years was already far too long, and Tony wasn't going to let it be one more day longer than it had to be.

19 Days Ago

“Tony!” Ms. Potts said with surprise. “I didn’t expect you in the office today.”

Probably because Tony had been dodging Stark Industries for a while now, only coming out of his lab long enough to get her to leave him alone before burying himself in work again. It had occurred to him as he got in his car to go to SI headquarters, blinking in the bright sunlight, that this was the first time he had been outside of the house since Stane’s forced excursion. “Yeah, I wanted to meet with you,” Tony said, shutting the door behind him.  He set a stack of papers in front of her as he sat down.

“What’s this?” She said, flipping through the papers. There was a line of confusion between her eyebrows which only deepened as she started reading them.

“I’m making you CEO of Stark Industries,” Tony said. “Effective two weeks from now. Should be an easy transition, you do most of my job anyway.” He grabbed a pin from her desk and clicked it, the sound loud in the sudden silence. “Sign on the highlighted line, please,” he added, holding the pen out to her, and despite everything he had to smile at the stunned look on her face.

  11 Days Ago

Tony put a hand on Rhodey’s arm and met his eyes, willing him to understand. “I’m saying that Afghanistan wasn’t a random attack,” he said urgently. “I think I was being targeted, and I think whoever did it might try again.” He palmed a thumb drive from his pocket and slid it across the table. In the Hydra files, JARVIS had found that a senator named Stern had been behind the Afghanistan attack, apparently trying to get Tony out of the way so that his good buddy Justin Hammer and his company Hammer Industries could take over SI's lucrative military contracts. There was all of that and more on here, just enough information that if Rhodey put all the threads together he would start getting the bigger picture. Pierce, the STRIKE teams, all of it. “If anything happens to me, I need you to finish what I’ve started.”

“Tony, if you are afraid for your life-“ Rhodey started, still looking dubious but starting to get alarmed.

“Not just me. You. Ms. Potts. Anyone I'm friends with. I can’t do anything to make these people suspicious,” Tony insisted. It was strange to feel like he was lying even though every word he’d said was true. “No unexplained bodyguards, no sudden trips, and absolutely no cops.”

“I don’t like this,” Rhodey said emphatically. “You’re asking me to sit back and wait to see if someone kills you!”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tony said. That part was a lie. He had a plan in the broadest definition of the word; mostly he was making it up as he went along and praying he could handle the fallout. “I need you to trust me.” Rhodey’s mouth was a grim line and his jaw was tight, and Tony knew he wasn’t convinced so he pulled out his trump card. “I can’t do this unless I know you are safe,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward. “I won’t risk you.” It took a long minute, and Rhodey looked like he was swallowing something unpleasant, but he finally nodded and put the thumb drive in his pocket. Tony exhaled and sagged with relief. “Thank you."

“When this is over, you better have a good damn explanation,” Rhodey said threateningly, and Tony barked out a humorless laugh.

“You won’t even believe me when you hear it.”

  8 Days Ago

After Tony hit save on the final design of the suit, he stumbled over to the couch and landed on it face first, exhausted. He was laying on the couch, eyes drifting shut as he went over his plan for the hundredth time trying to figure out if he’d missed anything when the lab went dark. “What the hell, JARVIS?”

“Sir, it’s been 56 hours since you last slept,” JARVIS said. “I’m turning off your systems for a minimum of twelve hours.” The light in the stairwell going up to the main floor turned on, its glow just enough to let Tony get from the couch to the door without running into anything.

Tony stayed stubbornly on the couch. “We don’t have twelve hours to waste,” he said. “Turn my power back on.”

The lights stayed off. “Sir, you are a hazard to yourself and others.” Tony scowled and wondered if he had actually programmed JARVIS like this or if he was channeling the man himself. "Also, there's nothing for you to do while I assemble the suit."

“Fine. Ten hours.”

“Ten hours," JARVIS repeated. "I will be monitoring the situation while you sleep,” he added, and Tony knew that he meant not just monitoring Stane and James, but also Tony’s vital signs to make sure he actually slept.

“You’re insufferable,” Tony accused as he made his way up the stairs.

“Yes, sir.”

 2 Days Ago

“Sir, there’s something you should see.”

Tony looked up from the fine-tuning he was doing on the suit’s shoulder-fired weapons to look at the computer screen. JARVIS had maximized the window where he was constantly monitoring Pierce’s communications and highlighted a text that had just been sent. It was to an unknown number and all it said was lvl 10, CovJer10131973 nlt 200810162200Z. The first part was clearly a target identifier and Tony knew enough about the military to recognize the latter as a date time group, set for five days from now. “Bring up the camera feed,” Tony said, and sure enough when Tony looked at the video surveillance of the room where James was kept, he could see that the lights in the room were on and a technician was already in the room powering on computers. They’d found out a while ago that what Tony had taken for a hyperbaric chamber was in fact a cryostasis chamber, which partly explained why James was almost a hundred years old but looked younger than Tony.

“Shit." Tony exhaled long and low, feeling his heart rate spike with nervousness. "How long it takes to thaw him out? Was that in his files?”

JARVIS was silent for a moment. “Evidence suggests approximately 24 hours from the time the procedure is first initiated,” he said.

“Right,” Tony said grimly, turning back to his work with a new urgency. “Guess it’s time.”

 Now

Tony flew north along the coast as his house collapsed into the Pacific Ocean behind him, throwing billowing clouds of dust and smoke into the air as carefully placed explosives reduced it to a smoking ruin. It was thrilling and terrifying to know that for all intents and purposes Tony Stark was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He'd become a dead man after all, and now the only thing left was this suit and his mission: rescue the Winter Soldier then burn Hydra to the ground.

“Pull up James' video feed for me," Tony said as he flew. Since he was over water, he set the suit to autopilot and shifted his attention to the small window at the corner of his HUD.  James was out of the cryostasis chamber, sitting on a chair as a medical assistant appeared to be taking his vitals. Every now and then he shivered, still shirtless. Other technicians were milling around, tending to the computers, and standing guard were was two members of the STRIKE team, hands on their weapons as they kept an eye on him. His records had indicated that he was prone to ‘erratic violent outbursts,’ which Tony figured was code for “periodically tries to fight back.” Tony had actually been happy to read that, because it meant that Hydra hadn't managed to break him completely. Right now, though, James just seemed willing to numbly submit to whatever the technicians were doing, his long hair a curtain in front of his face as he stared at the floor.

“Sir, we are approaching the facility,” JARVIS said, and minimized the video. Tony flew lower to the water, navigating around the giant cargo ships at dock. Even for a twenty-four hour facility it was late, and there were only one or two ships that had people still unloading shipping containers. He landed close to the Hydra facility but out of the line of sight; he had managed to camouflage the suit to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t hide the bright lights of the repulsors so he made the rest of the approach on foot.

JARVIS’s scanners found four total guards around the building, patrolling in pairs. By sticking to the deep shadows cast by the stacked shipping containers and the orange-yellow glow of the sodium-vapor security lights, Tony got within hearing distance and hit them with a pulse of high-pitched wave frequency. They both stiffened and fell over, paralyzed, helmets bouncing off the pavement hard enough to knock them unconscious. Tony bound them with their own zip ties and hid them out of sight, then used his backdoor access to the security system to unlock the doors and set all the surveillance cameras on a one hour loop. As he strode through the door into the lab, all eyes turned to face him, and before anyone could even speak there was a brrrt noise and they fell to the floor, killed by the precision targeting system Tony had built into his suit.

When JARVIS confirmed they were all dead, Tony took off the helmet and looked down at one of the bodies; the one closest to him had been here a month ago, monitoring James’ vitals as they wiped his mind. This was the first time Tony had killed anyone and he expected to feel..something, sad or upset or even vindictive, but he didn’t really feel anything. It all felt too easy, and Tony knew it was because he had designed a suit that had made it that easy. All the more reason that Hydra couldn't be allowed to get their hands on it.

James was still sitting in the chair, watching Tony as he approached; he hadn’t even gone for cover as everyone around him had died. Tony wondered if it was out of surprise or indifference. “Do you know me?” He asked, coming to stand in front of him. James studied his features for a moment and shook his head. “My name is Tony Stark. You are James Buchanan Barnes, and I am here to rescue you.” Tony offered him a hand to get to his feet, but James didn’t move, he just stared at Tony with those glacier blue eyes. There wasn't blankness in them now, only a narrow-eyed look of consideration. “Come on,” Tony tried again. “We’re escaping. We have to hurry before more people show up.”

James didn’t move. “There is no escape from Hydra. The only way out is-”

“Death, I know.” Tony kept his hand out but gestured expressively around the room with the other. “But they never said whose death.”

James studied him again, then turned his gaze to the dead bodies. Finally, after a long moment, he took Tony’s hand and let him pull him to his feet.

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 2 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: Bitchin’ is a multichapter fic, surprise!! This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and helping me with Yara’s character overall. Hope you appreciate the easter egg based on her!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART TWO

"Yara!"

The eyes belonging to the girl in question, flashed your way, widening in alarm.

"Oh, yikes." Was her automatic response, her bag of cool ranch Doritos falling onto her lap.

You were angry, that much was evident to her. Yara was sat in your shared dorm's living room, a thick blanket engulfing her small frame. You briefly glanced towards the TV, it was tuned into MTV, the familiar music video of Every Breath You Take by The Police playing, before directing your glare back onto the copper-haired girl.

"Before you say anything," Yara began, swallowing down whatever remaining food was in her mouth, "you should know they were having a rerun of the VMAs – which I missed last night – at the same time as the lab."

"You left me alone! You said you would go to the lab yesterday!" You griped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yes, yes that is true but I would also like to point out the fact that Madonna performed, so it wasn't like I even had a choice when you really think about it." She countered, tone pitching comically.

"You absolutely had a choice!" You laughed, shaking your head.

"Mm... I could argue that it is a subjective opinion."

You walked over to your best friend, sighing as you slumped down beside her, placing your backpack onto the floor.

You offered Yara a sideways glance.

"Did Duran Duran at least win something?" You asked begrudgingly.

"Nothing. They were robbed!" She squinted, shaking a fist in the air angrily.

A small chuckle escaped you despite yourself.

"You really should have gone to the lab, you know." You reasoned, reaching into the bag of chips.

"And smell like frog insides for the rest of the day? Grody to the max." She responded, before flashing you a look. "No offense."

"None taken." You grumbled, her observation fully noted though.

"Besides the makeup lab is next week. What could I have possibly missed this class?" Yara dismissed you absentmindedly, turning back towards the television as she reached for another chip.

"Well." You chuckled nervously. "For one, I have a boyfriend now."

At your words, Yara froze, a chip still in her hand as she paused mid-bite.

"You what?!" She all but shrieked, causing you to jump.

"Who? How? When? Tell me everything!" Her hands found your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You shoved her off with a laugh.

"Uh, well, his name is Jungkook–"

"The Jeon Jungkook?! From our lab?" Yara interrupted, eyes wide and shining with interest.

"Um... yes?" You responded cautiously.

Yara let out a scoff, leaning back further into the couch.

"Unbelievable. I leave you alone for one day and you get a boyfriend! And a fine one at that. This is so bogus."

"Mine and Jungkook's whole relationship is bogus, Yara." You rolled your eyes.

At your words, your best friend raised an eyebrow and you took that as an invitation to continue speaking.

"I'm only pretending to date him to make his ex-girlfriend jealous."

A sharp laugh from Yara caused you to pause, watching the way her amusement was short-lived, her smile fell as she took in your serious expression.

"Oh, you're serious." She deadpanned.

You nodded, "When you didn't show up Jungkook ended up being my partner and... well, I'm still not sure how it happened but he basically offered to fund my STEM event in exchange for helping him making his girlfriend jealous."

"They are the weirdest couple." You breathed out, shoving another chip in your mouth.

"Wait... he's gonna fund your event?! Y/N, you've been planning that thing since we got to university!"

A smile found your face, your excitement once again seeing you.

"I know! I wouldn't usually get involved in someone's love life like this but was too good of an opportunity to turn down."

"Man, I'm so happy for you! Still kind of disappointed but happy nonetheless." Yara smiled, causing you to frown.

"Disappointed? Why are you disappointed?" You pressed.

Yara clicked her tongue at you, looking at you as if the reason should be obvious.

"What do you mean why am I disappointed? Here I was ecstatic to hear that my best friend has gotten a boyfriend only to find that it's got a contract behind it!"

You giggled, nudging your knee into hers. "Think of this as a smart business venture I'm embarking on."

Yara stared at you for a moment, something clearly weighing on her mind as her lips fell into a subtle pout.

"What?" You mused.

She fluttered her eyelashes, "Does this mean you aren't going to fuck him?"

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yara!" You gaped.

"Because, if you want to get technical, you kind of have to so I can live vicariously through you. It's girl code." She continued, reaching over and popping another chip into her mouth.

You frowned. "That is gross and also not a thing."

"I'm serious, I'm not accepting anything less than, like, third base." Yara pressed with a wag of a finger.

"Why don't you worry about your own sexual escapades instead of worrying about mine." You paused before continuing. "Which won't be happening, for your information."

The snacking girl let out a deep groan, throwing her blanket off of her as she stood up, taking the bag of chips with her much to your dismay.

"Well, it's not my fault I'm not getting any, okay! So do us both a favor and freak his shit." She called out, walking over to the kitchen.

"Can you stop emphasizing your lack of dick for one second?" You chuckled. "If you're that desperate for dick go back to Eunwoo."

Eunwoo was a boy Yara messed around with last semester. The relationship was short-lived, Yara quick to cut things off as soon as she realized Eunwoo was looking for something more than just a brief fling. Because ironically, despite how Yara crowed about being lonely, there was nothing that sent that girl running faster than actual feelings.

"Sweetie, I'm desperate for good dick." Yara scoffed, having had emerged back into the room, her auburn hair now let down, her trusty scrunchy back around her wrist.

"Was Eunwoo really that bad in bed?" You wondered, eyeing your best friend curiously as she moved to turn off the TV that had gone neglected the moment you stepped into the room.

Yara shrugged. "No, he was fine."

"So...?"

An enthusiastic pound against the poor television box rang out, the soft side of Yara's fist having had slammed down dramatically.

"I don't want just fine, Y/N! I want dick so totally tubular that I feel it in my guts." She declared.

A sputtering cough fell from your lips as you choked on your inhale of air.

Yara looked at you with mild concern, suppressing her laughter as she walked over and began to pat your back.

"I seriously question how you wiggled your way into being my best friend." You breathed through your coughs,.

"Eat my shorts, Y/N. You love me and you know it." She dismissed easily.

You merely grinned, unable to dispute your best friend's claim.

"Now go shower." Yara ordered, using one hand to point in the direction of the bathroom, and the other to pinch her nose shut dramatically.

Sighing, you heaved yourself off the couch. You doubted you smelled as bad as Yara made you out to, but you couldn't deny that a shower sounded terrific right now.

"Yes, sir." You sent her a salute cheekily before turning to head to the bathroom, shaking your head as she called out after you.

"And when you come out I need to know every single word you and Jungkook exchanged. If you're dating him then so am I, bitch!"

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The weekend had breezed by quickly, homework and the newest Cyndi Lauper album occupying all your free time. You hardly had time to contemplate your new role as Jeon Jungkook's new girlfriend.

You and Yara had been in the midst of a conversation about what exactly she should get her little sister for her 13th birthday when you first spoke to Jungkook again.

"Cabbage patch kid?" Yara offered, causing your nose to scrunch up.

"How old do you think your sister is?"

"Hey, don't sass me. For your information, Lyanna still has all her Care Bear tapes. She threw a hissy fit when my mom tried to give them away last Christmas." Yara recalled.

"Still, she's becoming a teenager. I vote no on the cabbage patch kid."

"I'm with you, babe." Jungkook spoke up suddenly, lips pressed together as if in contemplative thought.

You hadn't even noticed him enter the classroom, much less approach and listen in onto your conversation.

"Jungkook!" You breathed out in surprise, stomach fluttering slightly as you realized what he had just called you.

"Why don't you get her a pair of roller skates?" He ignored you, placing a hand on the table and leaning onto it. You tried your hardest to ignore the way the muscles in his arm flexed with the movement.

You cleared your throat, "Roller skates?"

"Yeah. Every kid has to get a pair of roller skates. It's like a rite of passage."

"I never got roller skates…" You muttered.

"And you were robbed of a childhood." Jungkook informed you solemnly, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Sup." He said suddenly, eyes flickering to Yara as he offered her a casual nod.

You watched in amusement as a pink hue made its way onto your best friend's face, nodding back at him.

Seeing as Yara had remained silent this entire time, you realized it was probably best you introduce the two.

"Uh, Jungkook this is Yara, my best friend. Yara this is Jungkook, my... "

Business partner?

Temporary acquaintance?

"Her boyfriend." Jungkook finished for you cheekily, sending you a wink.

"Fake boyfriend." You reminded, causing Jungkook's eyes to widen.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He stated bluntly, eyes gesturing to Yara forcibly.

Oh. He thought you wouldn't tell your best friend about him? Hah.

"She already knows we're not actually dating–"

An angry shush came from the messy-haired boy, preventing you from talking further.

He hunched closer, eyes flickering across the classroom, "Keep it down, would ya? There are eyes everywhere."

"Sorry, jeez." You apologized dryly, raising a brow as you mimicked his motions.

"Bold of you to assume I won't be guiding Y/N throughout this entire arrangement." Yara spoke finally, her nose turned up slightly.

"Is that so?" Jungkook looked at her in surprise.

"Yep. In fact, I've self-appointed myself manager of your entire relationship." She replied smoothly.

Jungkook grinned, clearly finding humor in her words, "Well, then. With that kind of assertiveness, I'm sure we're in good hands. Nice to meet you, Yara."

"Likewise."

You frowned as your best friend and Jungkook shook hands.

"Anyway, as your manager, my first bit of advice for really selling this whole fake relationship thing is for the two of you to sit together. So if you'll just excuse me..."

At the sight of Yara reaching for her notebook and pen, alarm ran through you.

"Wha– Excuse me, what are you doing?" You protested immediately.

Jungkook, on the other hand, simply grinned. "Great advice!"

"Why thank you, I accept payment in cash and Annie Lennox cassette tapes."

"Yara, where are you even going?" You whined, watching as your best friend chucked her things into her bag.

"To sit at another table. Who am I to keep people in love apart? Jungkook you can take my seat."

Your shoulders slumped miserably as you watched as the smirking boy replaced Yara's spot on the stool beside you.

"Have fun, kids." She teased, waving the two of you off with a hand as she walked over to another table.

"I like her." Jungkook smiled cheesily.

"She's not kidding, you know." You warned. "If she says she's our manager then you better believe it. Whether you like it or not, she's gonna accomplish what she's set out to do."

"Reminds me of you." He replied with a hum.

You blinked in surprise.

"Was that... a compliment?"

"Was it?" His eyes went wide, voice pitched in feigned surprise.

A small laugh escaped you and before you could retort with your own sarcastic comment, your professor began to speak.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you all had a good weekend." Mr. Kim greeted, his usual coffee mug in hand. He looked somewhat worse for wear, you noted. "I did. And as I sat here and reflected the choices I made Sunday night, I came to the conclusion that I will be sparing you the boring lecture this class and putting on a movie.

Widespread chatter of relief fell over the class, everyone elated to hear that this specific class would require minimal effort.

Mr. Kim had just sunk into the chair by his desk when a hand of a student shot up.

"Yes?" He answered.

The owner of the hand spoke up, "Should we take notes?"

Mr. Kim stared at the student with subtle bewilderment.

"I mean if you want? Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you all, I'm hungover as all hell. As long as you watch quietly and keep the lights off, I don't care what you do."

And with that, all the students turned back to chat amongst themselves.

It was funny, Jungkook thought, how easy you were to read when you thought no one was looking. He had been watching you through the corner of his eye, watching the way you hung onto the professor's every word and how disappointment washed over you when you realized there was no learning to be done today.

"Cute." He muttered to himself.

"What was that?" You replied absentmindedly, reaching for a sheet of paper.

Jungkook straightened in his seat, unaware he had said that out loud.

"Nothing."

You paid his reply no mind, however, pencil in hand as you began to write something onto a sheet of loose-leaf paper. Jungkook's head tilted in mild curiosity as he watched, wondering what it was you were doing.

To his surprise, the very paper of interest was then thrust his way, a soft sound ringing out as it rubbed against the cold surface of the lab table.

"What am I looking at?" Jungkook deadpanned. You shifted in your seat before responding.

"I think it's about time we talked seriously about this... relationship of ours. We need to establish rules."

Jungkook glanced back down at the paper.

"I see."

Suddenly, Jungkook's hand reached out for the zipper of his bag. You watched in silence as he pulled out the first writing utensil he could find – a blue marker – and jotted something down quickly.

You frowned, scooting your stool cautiously closer to him to get a proper look at the paper he had just written on.

"What is this?" You frowned.

"I believe it referred to legally as an amendment." He informed, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Jungkook, I'm not going to kiss you."

Despite your seriousness, a smile nearly escape your lips at the sight of Jungkook's mouth falling into a pout.

"Why not?" He asked.

You raised a brow, "Um, we're not actually dating? Did you forget that?"

Jungkook let out a small noise of what you could only assume was indignation.

"Not to sound like a total douchebag but the fact that you don't want to kiss me is, like, totally insulting."

"I agreed to be your girlfriend, not some disposable pair of lips you're allowed to use whenever you need your ego stroked. Do I need to remind you that I hardly even know you?" You hissed lowly in case someone was listening in on your conversation.

For a moment it was just you and Jungkook glaring at each other. Neither of you was going to budge, he realized. He let out a sigh.

"Look, I see your point and what this is looking like but I promise you I'm not being creepy here. No one is gonna believe we're together if we don't kiss each other. To anyone that looks, you could just be my friend if we don't show some kind of affection towards each other."

Your arms crossed over your chest, your hard expression not letting up.

"One kiss. That's all I'm asking for. Just a peck, if that's all your comfortable with." He continued, causing you to hum.

He was certainly going to a lot of trouble just for one peck.

Maybe he did have a point. One kiss wouldn't kill you, would it?

"When?" Was your response, taking him by surprise.

"Uh... whenever? Preferably somewhere people will see. Maybe at the Halloween party this weekend?"

You frowned, a thought crossing your mind.

"You want me to kiss you at a party? In front of a bunch of people?"

"Well... not if you really don't want to..." Jungkook replied, suddenly feeling bad that you might really not be all that comfortable with this whole thing.

You shook your head, "No, it's not that."

Kissing Jungkook wasn't as daunting as the idea of doing it in front of a lot of people. It wasn't that you were socially awkward, per se, but the possibility of stage fright was undoubtedly a real one.

You let your thoughts run for a while before you finally came upon a slightly annoying solution. An audible sigh left you as you grabbed your pencil and reached for the paper.

"I don't want to embarrass myself." You told Jungkook bluntly as he read the contract's newest addition, your eyes fixated on the sheet as you couldn't find the courage to meet his eyes.

"So I want our first kiss to be somewhere private where I can make sure I know what I'm doing. Familiarize with... how you kiss... and stuff..." You trailed off, the warmth in your face suddenly too distracting to let you think intelligent thoughts.

Jungkook's eyes were as wide as saucers, glued to the side of your face as if trying to decipher whether or not you were being serious. He assumed you must be as the tone in your voice wasn't mocking in the slightest.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He nodded quickly, still noticing the way you couldn't look him in the face.

A shit-eating grin found his face, "Y/N, are you embarrassed right now?"

"No." You stressed quickly, looking over at him defensively. Your eyes fell onto his lips against your better judgment and once again you turned away from his stare, heat rocketing through you. "I just don't want you thinking anything weird like this is me wanting to kiss you."

The dark-haired boy pressed his lips together.

"Trust me, you've made your opposition against kissing me abundantly clear." He told you pointedly before reaching for the contract. You watched him gratefully, thankful for the shift in interest.

"I'm serious about there being eyes everywhere. If Kiri finds out the truth, it's game over. I'd look like a total wastoid. Not to mention I'll never hear the end of it from my brothers." Jungkook told you, pushing the paper over for you to read. Tapping the end of your pencil against the table, you pondered something before scribbling else onto the rules.

"Fair." Jungkook expressed. "As long as you can guarantee she won't tell anyone."

"Yara is lonelier than Henry David Thoreau, you have nothing to worry about." You shrugged easily.

"I... have no idea who that is."

"He's a transcendentalist writer who spent two years in isolation–"

"Oh, so you're not just a science freak. You're a well-rounded nerd." Jungkook teased, causing you to scowl.

You grabbed your pencil. You could feel Jungkook lean to peer over your shoulder, laughing lightly as he took in what you wrote. No sooner had you finished, the paper was yanked from underneath your palm, your pretend lover quick to scribble back a response.

And that was how the two of you spent the next twenty minutes, discussing rules and filling the rest of the page, muffled exchanges of giggles catching the attention of students near you as they began to wonder could possibly be on that sheet of paper that had the two of you blushing and whispering like that.

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"Can I put my hand in your pocket?"

The request came seemingly out of nowhere. The class had just finished and Yara had passed by your table briefly only to insist that Jungkook walked you to your dorm, promptly informing you that she and you would not be walking back together as usual, before she left the room altogether.

You sent Jungkook a pointed look as the two of you exited the classroom and walked out into the hallway.

"What like in Sixteen Candles?" You presumed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "Nice try scumbag, I'm not letting you cop a feel of my ass."

"Why do you assume everything I say has some sort of hidden motive behind it?" Jungkook scoffed. "I was trying to be romantic."

"Oh, really?" You asked, sounding skeptical.

"I mean, sure, getting to touch your ass would've been a nice perk..."

A pleasant laugh escaped you and Jungkook felt something in his chest tightened, and before he could think to warn you, his hand found yours.

You glanced down at the gesture, a shy expression finding you suddenly as you look back up Jungkook, eyes wide and face warm as he offered you a small smile.

"It's no hand in your back pocket but... this should still get the message across to everyone." Jungkook's fingers laced between yours and you tried your hardest to appear nonchalant as if your heart wasn't in your throat right now.

You simply nodded, continuing to walk alongside him as the two of you began your journey towards your dorm building.

It wasn't entirely awful, you found.

Jungkook's hand felt nice in yours. It was warm and soft– your ex wasn't one for PDA so you had always wondered what it might be like to walk around with someone you liked like this.

Shame your first time had to be with your fake boyfriend.

You hadn't realized how social Jungkook was until just now, however. It hadn't been more than a seven-minute walk but more than a handful of people had called out to Jungkook, offering him a greeting and a wave as they went about their days.

You had brought up his apparent popularity to Jungkook but he merely laughed the statement off, saying that it just came with the territory of being in a fraternity.

"Yara's gonna be so proud when she finds out we thought to hold hands all on our own." You brought up on the elevator ride up to your dorm.

The romantic embrace had been severed the moment the metal doors had closed on you two, no longer having an audience to perform for.

"She's quite the character that Yara girl." He noted.

You shrugged, "She's not too bad once you get used to her."

Jungkook shook his head as if you had miss understood him.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. You're a lot like her, you know."

"Am I?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Headstrong... passionate... won't take no for an answer... seems like the only person you two would listen to is each other."

You were surprised. Once again, it was a seemingly genuine compliment that had come out of nowhere and you weren't entirely sure how to respond. You clasped your hands behind your back, a grin washing onto you.

"Pretty sure you've got bigger balls than I do." He finished his thought, causing you to snort.

"Sorry if we challenge your manhood." You joked, nudging your shoulder into his just as the elevator door open. You slipped out onto the floor, Jungkook following behind you.

"Oh don't worry about that, babe. You two can test my manhood whenever you want." He told you greasily, a suggestive smirk on his face.

"If I weren't contractually obligated to be nice to you, I would smack you."

You reached the door of your dorm a few moments later, turning to Jungkook awkwardly.

"Well, thanks for walking me." You said.

Jungkook tucked his hand into the pocket of his jacket, shrugging coolly.

"I'll see you in class on Wednesday then."

As if on cue, the door of your dorm unlocked, swinging open enthusiastically, revealing a smiling Yara.

"Wrong. You'll be seeing her tomorrow." She stated matter-of-factly.

"I will?"

"He will?"

You and Jungkook both expressed your confusion in unison. An amused expression fell over Yara.

"I did some thinking on the walk back from class and decided that Jungkook is taking you out on a date tomorrow." She explained before turning towards the man in question. "When do you finish class tomorrow?"

"Uh... three o'clock?" He answered slowly, eyes flickering to yours to see if you had any idea what your best friend was talking about. You didn't, of course.

Yara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perfect, Y/N's last class is at two. Come pick her up here around four."

"Oh, uh, sure." Jungkook nodded, looking somewhat scared of the small but authoritative girl standing before him.

As if snapping back into reality, you shook your head. "Hold on, I didn't agree to this. Don't I get a say in this?"

Yara's eyes flickered towards yours dully, "No."

She clapped her hands together suddenly, directing her attention back to your pretend lover.

"Thanks for walking her over. We'll see you tomorrow at four. Don't be late, bye!" Yara sang sweetly, hand reaching out to wrap around your forearm.

You let out a yelp as you were tugged into the dorm, door slamming shut as you left behind a perplexed looking Jungkook.

"What the hell was that?! Why am I going on a date with him?"

Jungkook could hear your voice through the closed door, pitched angrily and clearly directed at Yara.

"Third base, Y/N. Don't make me say it again."

"I literally can't stand you."

A small laugh fell from the boy as he stood in his place in the hallway, eyebrows furrowing in amused bewilderment as he wondered how he ended up with not just one but two stubborn fake girlfriends.

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Ch. One

JJ Maybank x oc / Soulmate AU / Topper x oc

warnings: none, if there are any let me know!

Word Count: 2k ish

Notes: Hi guys, sorry this is so long overdue. I was fighting with this one. But i really wanted to update this story. It’s not my fave but that’s okay. ** As always, reblogs and feedback is welcome and appreciated. 

Masterlist - READ PROLOGUE FIRST :))

June sat at the piano she got for her 16th birthday. She had been saving up for years and finally had enough money for a keyboard. It wasn’t the same as the beautiful grand piano at her instructors, but it did the job. June nervously watched the clock tick down to midnight and tried to focus on the song she was trying to learn. If she came into lessons next week without having learned at least half of it she wouldn’t be on track to play at the recital in a few weeks. It was a big deal to her parents, and June too. The recital was on the mainland with tons of different kids from the surrounding areas. June had never gotten an opportunity to play and she wasn’t about to let worrying about her potential soulmate stop her. 

She took a deep breath and began to play. As the minutes turned to seconds, June was gracefully gliding her fingers up and down the keyboard, trying to make sense of the melodies, allowing the notes to soak into the room. 

On the morning of her birthday, June walked down the stairs into the kitchen to see a note and a box of donuts. It was Saturday, meaning both her parents were working and Olivia, her sister, was going to be sleeping the day away. June grabbed a powder sugar donut from the box and read the note: 

Happy Birthday, Love! We can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight. 

Have fun today, Mom and Dad

She smiles and folds the note up. June was just about to grab another donut when the doorbell rang. She looked at the time, 9:30. There’s no way any family member would be stopping by and Olivia’s friends wouldn’t show up unannounced. June opens the door to reveal JJ dressed in shorts and a light long sleeve t-shirt. 

“Happy birthday Ju Ju!” JJ exclaims.

June rolled her eyes, “God, please don’t call me that.” She opened the door wide to let him in. The nickname originated from June’s younger sister. They were five years apart and she couldn’t properly say June’s name for quite a while. So from ages 5 to 8, she was Ju Ju. 

“Nah, I think 18 is the year we bring it back,” JJ said, slinging his arm around her shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” June says, tapping his cheek lightly, “Thanks though.” He smiles as she jumps up onto one of the stools in the kitchen, “what’s up?”

“You, miss birthday girl, have very important places to be. Go get dressed.” 

“Where exactly do I have to be?” 

“Well, first, Kie’s and then,” JJ motions like he is zipping his lips and throwing the key away. June narrows her eyes causing him to throw up his hands in defense. 

“Okay, fine, but don’t eat my donuts!” June runs up the stairs and begins to get ready. She decides on a blue tube top, shorts, and a white cropped jacket. She runs a brush through her hair and packs her swimsuit and a few other things in a drawstring before going down the hallway to leave a note for her sister. She tells her where she’s going to be and to call when she gets up. 

JJ and her drive to Kiara’a in his truck, the windows down and the radio stuck on the same channel it’s been on since he got it. They’ve learned to tolerate it. JJ was so proud of the truck when he first showed the pogues. He had gotten a busted down pickup from some guy on the island and fixed it up pretty much by himself. The rest of them promised to never make fun of it. 

“Happy Birthday!” The pogues yell when June opens the door. She can’t contain her laughter. Everyone is wearing pink sparkly party hats. Kie instantly comes over to her, throwing her arms around her neck, “baby is eighteen!” June squeezes back and accepts a hat identical to the rest and hands one to JJ who shuts the door behind them. 

“Looking good, boys.” June laughs at Pope and John B posing in their hats. 

“It’s the required attire didn’t you hear?” John B asks, kissing the top of June's head and Pope slinging an arm around her shoulders. They lead her through the kitchen and the sliding door to the outdoor patio. The lounge chairs are set up along with string lights and a birthday banner. It was perfect. The whole thing, being with her favorite people, the perfect weather. 

“You guys didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“But you deserve it. You’re always the first to do anything for the rest of us,” Pope says. 

“He’s right, Juney,” Kie says, smiling. 

“You’re a bunch of saps,” JJ says plopping into a chair. 

After spending the morning and early afternoon hanging out in Kie’s backyard, the five piled into the van and headed down to the beach. The boys were in the water before June could even set her stuff down. It was arguably not warm enough to swim, but that didn’t stop them. Kie and June decided to layout, occasionally sneaking a few drinks from the water bottle filled with alcohol. 

“So how are you feeling about the whole soulmate thing?” Kie asks, bumping her shoulder against June’s. 

To be honest, June had forgotten all about it. She could barely sleep last night she was so nervous, but now that it could happen whenever, she felt much better.

“Honestly okay.” She admitted.

“Do you think you already know who it is?”

“I mean that happens more often than not, right? Just look at our parents.” Kie’s parents had known each other in high school, having grown up on the island, but didn’t know they were soulmates until later down the line. That happens all the time. Whether or not it’s just coincidence or really is fate, June hadn’t decided yet. 

“I guess you’re right.” She paused before speaking again, “I don’t think I want to already know them. I don’t want to marry someone we went to high school with and be stuck here only for our kids to end up the same way.” Seeing Kiara open up like this made June wonder about her own future. 

“Don’t worry Kie, you’re gonna go somewhere cool like Australia and stop the wildfires and clean the oceans and fall in love with some really hot girl and leave us all behind forever.” 

She moved her sunglasses off her face to hold back her hair, “I could never leave you, but you really think so?”

“Of course. You’re going places. John B, JJ, and I are gonna be stuck here smelling like fish bait until we’re 80.” June gags.

Kiara laughs, making a disgusted face, “what about Pope?” 

“Nah, he’s too good for this place.” They both laugh so hard they don’t even notice the boys had made their way back to where they were laying.

“What’s so funny?” John B asks, shaking out his hair.

“Nothing,” Kie says with a smile on her lips. The boys share a knowing look before dropping it altogether. That’s when June’s phone chimes with a message from her sister. 

Mom said to make sure you were home soon for tonight. We’re almost all set up here.

I guess Aunt Morrane is coming:/

“No,” June groans at the last of Olivia’s message. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks, sitting down next to her. 

“My Aunt is coming to dinner tonight.”

“The horror!” John B mocks. 

“Stop! I’m serious. She’s a nutcase.” June replies, throwing a towel at his face. He catches it in one swift motion. 

“Ju it’s gonna be fine.” JJ said reassuringly, “I’ll drop you back off.” 

The pogues only stayed a little while longer before packing up their stuff into the van and parting ways once back at Kiara’s. 

“I won’t have any fun without you,” Kie begged before June got into the truck. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” The rest of the group was going to the first official kegger of the summer. June always missed it. She was sure she would hear all about it tomorrow when she would stop by the chateau with a bunch of water and ibuprofen in the morning to make sure they were all breathing. 

“Hey, thanks, J,” June says when JJ had pulled up in front of her house. 

“No problem,” he starts. June reaches for the door handle, “actually, I got you something.” 

Surprised, June says “You didn’t have to get me anything.” 

He waves her off and reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out a bracelet, “uh. It’s not wrapped or anything.” 

June examines the bracelet, it was a brown braided string with a single pearl threaded in the middle. 

“I love it.” 

“Really?” JJ asks, scrunching up his nose, “because it’s okay if you don’t I just thought-”

“No, no I do. Thank you,” June says and reaches up to kiss his cheek. Just then there is a loud pounding coming from the passenger side window, causing June to startle and drop the bracelet. Both June and JJ lean in to grab it off the floor of the car and smack heads. “Shit, sorry”

“Ow!” 

JJ finally grabs the bracelet and hands it back to her before they are both faced with Aunt Morrane opening the door and practically dragging her out of the truck. 

“You know,” her aunt starts, “darling, everyone is waiting inside.” 

“I’ll just be one second, I promise.” She says flashing a smile to her aunt and pleading eyes to JJ. He tries to hide his laughter. 

Aunt Morrane locks arms with June and begins walking up to their sidewalk, quite literally dragging her by her feet, and begins talking about this show she was watching.

“Happy Birthday, Ju Ju!” JJ yells from the truck. June tries to flip him off as discreetly as possible with her aunt still gripping on to her. 

At the door, her mother engulfs her into a hug, “Happy 18th, love.” 

“Thank you, mama.” 

“Was that JJ? You know he could've come in. We have enough food.”

“It’s okay, Mama, he had plans.” That satisfied her enough as she went to close the door and straight back into the kitchen. June took off her shoes and that’s when she heard it. It only lasted a minute and she couldn’t recite it if she was asked, but it was there. Faint, but clear. Just how Pope had described it. Just how everyone had described it. Her soulmate. 

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