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wazzupmrstark · 3 years

Text

instead of you [part sixteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

smut warnings: female masturbation, porn, mentions of choking

“‘We’? Like, you and me?” you clarified, hoping you had misunderstood.

“Yeah, it’ll only take a second,” Tom assured you.

You looked to Sam for help, but he looked just as lost as you were. “I’ll go try and find a microwave to heat up your leftovers,” he offered and took the container back from you. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay...”

You watched him shrug past both you and Tom and then disappear into the hallway with a sinking feeling in your chest, knowing he trusted you completely. He had no reason not to, and that’s what consumed you.

“What do you want?” you muttered, reluctantly stepping to the side to let Tom in.

He didn’t answer right away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. His eyes followed you around the room as you found your pants and tugged them on. He averted his gaze when he realized you were getting dressed mumbling a “sorry” as he trained his eyes on the carpet.

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there.

“You weren’t there today,” was all he said.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Was it because of me?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Tom’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“I had a lot to drink last night,” you reminded him.

“So you don’t remember anything?”

“I never said that.”

“So it was because of me?”

“I never said that either.” You sighed. “If you’re here to ask me if I told him you kissed me, I didn’t. And you could’ve just texted me to ask.”

“No that’s not why- I don’t have your number anyway.”

“I’m in the trip group chat with your family.”

“Oh, right. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating silence. Arbitrarily, you wondered who the most famous person in his phone was. He was a Marvel actor, he probably had Simu Liu’s number, right? Who would your contact information be sitting in between? Maybe if you ever forgave him for what he did you could ask him.

“Is something funny?” The firmness of Tom’s voice cut through your train of thought and brought you back to the present. “Why are you smiling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said despondently. “Sam’s gonna be back soon. What did you want?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Sam said you were sick.”

“Oh, so you wanted to see if I was lying?”

“No! God, why is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely concerned about you?”

“Because last night you only seemed concerned about yourself.”

Tom pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, expelling a breath harshly. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You hummed in agreement, and let your eyes trail down the veins of his arms to where they disappeared into his pockets. It looked like he was fiddling with a coin or something small, but you couldn’t tell.

“Are you feeling better?” he said the last part through gritted teeth.

“Yes, thank you. This chat has helped considerably.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not your problem to deal with. I'm Sam’s.”

He flexed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “Okay, well, I also wanted to apologize again for...” the word kiss seemed to die on his lips, poetic irony at its finest. “Being a dick.” Less poetic.

He finally fished his hand out of his pocket, holding a delicate piece of paper between his pointer and index fingers. He shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the dresser. “We went to the Academic Gallery today. I saw this in the gift shop and thought of you.” He presented you with what turned out to be a postcard, creased down the middle unevenly and smudged with pen ink.

You turned it over to look at the front first, admiring the artwork printed on it. It was a picture of Michelangelo’s David drawn in swoopy black lines and filled in with watercolor paint. Instead of a museum, the statue was in the middle of a garden, the centerpiece among dozens upon dozens of flowers.

“Sorry it’s folded,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t fit in my pocket.”

You flipped it over to read the back only to see iou scribbled in his handwriting and nothing else. You turned it over again to see if you had missed something on the front, but there was nothing.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Iou?”

“Yeah, you know... I feel really bad about last night, and I don’t really know how to make it up to you so I’m letting you decide.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“I think that this counts as an exception, since we’re kind of in uncharted territory.”

“Maybe for you. My boyfriend’s brothers make out with me all the time.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t make out with you- it was barely a peck.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than a peck.”

His cheeks were beginning to grow pink with what you couldn’t tell was either embarrassment or frustration. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. “Anyway, if you ever need a favor or anything, just let me know. Think of it as me owing you one.”

“And do I have to give back the postcard when I cash in this ‘favor’?” you asked.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Good, because I was going to keep it anyway.”

He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. “Knew you’d like it.”

You flattened the card on your lap, smiling as you tried to iron out the little crease with your fingers.

“It’s pretty, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and straightened his posture. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you that, and see how you were doing since tomorrow’s a travel day and I know you get a little motion sick sometimes. I didn’t want... whatever you’d come down with to make it worse.”

How did he know that? Had Sam told him? You didn’t have time to ask because he was already walking towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head towards you, hand already on the knob.

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Tom.”

He opened the door and let himself out into the hallway, catching it suddenly on his foot as he saw Sam coming off the elevator. Tom held the door for Sam, since his hands were full, and then said goodnight to his brother as he finally left.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the microwave,” he explained. “I had to ask the night manager and they heated it up in the break room for me.”

“Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve eaten it cold.”

“I know you would have, and that’s why I’m not letting you.” You gave him a look, which he ignored and handed you the container of food. “It’s carbonara, it’s one of the things Rome is known for. I couldn’t have you eating it lukewarm.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, pulling the ottoman closer to use it as a makeshift table. He watched as you tried the first bite, gauging your reaction. It was something he did whenever he cooked for you, especially if he was trying out a new recipe. He always needed your approval, and valued it above anybody else’s. But he hadn’t even made this, and as his eyes searched your face you found yourself wondering if they were looking for something else.

“Do you like it?”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. “It’s delicious,” you assured him. “I’m sad I missed dinner.”

“I’m sad you missed the whole day. Spending time with my family without you was hell.”

“Oh come on, it’s probably good that you got some real family time.”

“It’s real family time when you’re there. It felt like something was missing.”

You let a small smile slip past your lips despite the guilt that bubbled under the surface. You pushed it down and took another bite of the carbonara.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? It can’t have all been bad. Tell me about the good stuff. I wanna hear that.”

Sam nodded and pushed his curls back again, grinning like he’d been caught. “Fine, maybe there were some okay moments.”

“And what were they?”

“We went to the Accademia Gallery today. I think you would have really liked it. They had a whole wing of instruments from some of the most famous inventors and musicians from history. They even had pianos from Bartolomeo Cristorfori, the inventor of the piano.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“Of course if it was played, it wouldn’t sound anything like the piano we’re used to hearing today, but I’m sure it would still sound incredible.”

“Even if it hasn’t been tuned in a few hundred years?”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Yes, of course.”

“Sorry.”

“And they had a Strativerius, I don’t even want to know how valuable that thing is. It must cost millions. I took some pictures for you, but I know they won’t compare to the real thing. The lighting in museums never does the art justice.”

He handed his phone to you to scroll through. You swiped the photos, smiling whenever you came across a selfie he’d taken with a statue or painting. You reached the pictures of David and couldn’t help but zoom in on-

“Hey!” Sam yelped and grabbed his phone back from your hands.

“What!”

“Michelangelo would be so ashamed of you! I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“No way! If anyone appreciated good dick, it was Michelangelo.”

“Unbelievable.”

“If you don’t want me to judge these statue’s penises, don’t take pictures of them.”

“I didn’t take pictures of their penises! I took pictures of the whole statue- you’re zooming in on- you know what, nevermind. Arguing with you about this is pointless.”

“Smart boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you and put his phone in his back pocket. “Oh yeah, did Tom give you that postcard?”

“He told you about that?” you asked, suddenly panicking. Sam hadn’t said anything about last night so far, but maybe Tom had-

“Yeah, said he wanted to give you an iou for the limoncello last night.”

“What?”

“He said you paid the tab for it since he left his wallet in the room and that he wanted to pay you back for it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Another lie. You had very much not paid for the drinks last night. Tom had. And you knew he had to make an excuse for why he was buying his brother’s girlfriend something from the gift shop, but to add another lie to the ever-growing list made your throat burn with regret. You wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around you.

In the morning you took the train from Rome to Naples, and then took a taxi to Sorrento to spend the last bit of your week in Italy by the sea. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been in the busy cities of Rome and Florence. Even though there were still hordes of tourists, they were far more dispersed and less overbearing than you expected. The whole town seemed slowed down, like it had escaped the chokehold of time.

Sam’s parents took everyone out to lunch by the water and went over the schedule for the next day and a half.

“So, you’re on your own after dinner tonight, and then tomorrow morning we’re going to take the ferry to Capri for the day before our flight that night,” Nikki explained as she read through the spreadsheet on her phone.

“There’s an Irish pub down the street from our hotel,” Harry said. “Do you guys want to go after we eat tonight?”

“I’m down,” Sam agreed.

“Sounds good,” Tom chimed in.

The boys all looked at you for your answer, but you hesitated. Thinking about what happened the last time you drank didn’t make you eager to do it again, and you were already exhausted from travelling.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d rather go somewhere Italian... since we’re in Italy.”

Harry shrugged. “Your loss.”

“We’ll have a shot in your honor, babe,” Sam said and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Please don’t. Something tells me you’ll have plenty to drink without an extra shot for me.”

“You know us so well.”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel with the Hollands and said good night to Sam’s parents before parting ways to your separate rooms. Sam went with you to change into clothes for going out while you changed into pajamas.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

You nodded from where you were on the bed and yawned. Sam didn’t push any further, instead resolving to finish getting ready in silence. He paired his black jeans with a pair of converse and a dark green button up over a black t-shirt.

He turned to you for approval.

“Fake girlfriend approved?”

“Fake girlfriend approved,” you repeated and gave him a thumbs up.

“Okay, well I’m headed out,” he announced.

“Have fun! Don’t kiss any cute girls without me!”

It was something you always said to each other, but it sounded strange since it was supposed to be coming from his girlfriend. Sam just chuckled and blew you a kiss as he let himself out.

You heard him greet his brothers outside and then listened to their footsteps fade into the distance before pulling up an incognito window on your phone. It had been weeks since you’d been able to get off and it was killing you. The amount of stress this trip had given you only made it worse. You were wound so tight that you were sure you’d snap soon if you didn’t get some relief.

And you thought that maybe if you rubbed one out it might help you forget about... the confusing feelings you had for your best friend’s brother.

Seeing as you had the night to yourself, you figured you might as well take advantage of it. You copied a link from your notes app and pasted the url into the address bar. You didn’t feel like digging through your luggage to find your earbuds so you set the volume low enough for only you to hear.

The video started playing and you let your hand wander from your side up to your neck, brushing your hand lightly across your collarbone. You traced the curve of your breasts with a finger before squeezing one of them gently, feeling your nipple harden under your palm. You only had one hand to use since the other was holding your phone, but you made do.

The video was one of your favorites, one you found yourself watching at least once a week. It was one of the few videos of hetero couples you had favorited, and it started with the guy going down on the girl before fucking her...

You admired the muscles on the man’s back, watching intently as they flexed whenever he moved his head. The woman moaned, struggling to keep her legs open while he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

You let your hand travel down further until it was sitting at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You knew you had a while before Sam would be back, but you were too impatient to wait. You propped your phone up on a pillow next to you to free your other hand as you started to play with your clit.

You pictured someone’s head in between your thighs, imagining them moaning against your pussy as they tasted you for the first time.

The man was taking his pants off now and lining himself up with his partner’s pussy. You tried to follow along, putting yourself in the moment with the couple. You gathered your own wetness on two of your fingers to lubricate them and slid them inside yourself, sighing in relief. Your entire body tensed as it accommodated to the stretch and you gave yourself a few beats before moving your fingers.

When you finally did, you felt yourself relax and sped up your pace so that it matched the actors on screen.

The angle the video was shot at hid the man’s face and you found yourself wondering what he looked like. If you squinted you could almost picture Tom- no. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, but it was already there.

Closing your eyes didn’t help either. You just imagined Tom’s fingers sliding in and out of you instead of your own, imagined the veins on his arms becoming more pronounced as he tightened his grip on your thigh.

“Fuck,” you cursed, knowing you should stop.

You were too close to stop now, and the pleasure was clouding your judgement. Suddenly the man brought his hand up to the girl’s throat and began to choke her, sending her hurtling into her own orgasm. You moaned accidentally, thinking about Tom’s hand around your throat. You curled your fingers up so that you were hitting your g-spot and whimpered pathetically.

This was wrong. This was bad. Not only were you fantasizing about your best friend’s brother, but you were confusing yourself even further.

You tried to fight it, at least that’s what you told yourself, but all you could hear were Tom’s moans echoing through the speaker. You pictured the way he’d look on top of you. His eyes would be so dark and he’d be smirking like the cocky asshole he was, chain hanging down in your face- just inviting you to take it into your mouth. It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm begin to build. The video was still playing in the background, the man still chasing his own high and bringing his partner to her second orgasm, but you’d tuned it out by now. You came around your fingers thinking about Tom’s hips snapping into yours.

You were fucked.

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland series #tom holland smut

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vemuabhi · 3 years

Note

Wait... somebody hold my pasta! Requets are opennnn! Bello, how are you?? I hope you are doing well!

I was wondering if I could ask for a Killer x Reader fic! I thought like, the reader is the new cook and Killer keeps hovering around like she's poisoning the food idk hahaha In reality, he just wants to be around, but doesn't know how to tell her.

Any special touches are so welcome! And please, take your time writing. I know you are swamped with requests and I'm not going anywhere haha Sorry for the gigantic ask!!

Thank you! Wishing you all the inspiration and love! 💙

Hello author san! Im happy to see you here in my box! This is my very first time writing for our favourite Pastaboy!! Im so excited to write for him. I hope its good and I hope you like it @holykillercake swan~~

MR. MASK

Pairing: Killer X Reader

Warning: none. Its Killer fluff!!

Word count: 2.3K

Likes/votes, comments, shares/reblogs are appreciated!

Summary : being the new cook of the Kidd pirates, comes with a very suspicious and also a curious mask dude.

"Yes. I know that and I added extra sugar for Kidd", you replied to the mask dude who was telling you, the official cook for the crew, how to make coffee for the captain.

"Just making sure", he said and started to make pasta.

"I could make it for you", you said.

"Its alright. I can do it myself. You can now go and serve the coffee to the gang", he replied without even looking at you.

'This jerk... why the hell is he like this?', you cursed under your breath and went to the rowdy gang. Mornings were the only time of the day, the assholes didn't drink.

"Heat! Wire! Wake up!!", you knocked the door and went inside. The roomies had a drowsy look on their faces. But ofcourse these two and Killer mostly stayed up guarding the ship.

Then you went to Kidds cabin and knocked once before entering.

"Captain, wake up", you said and carefully placed the hottest mug on the side of the night stand. He just grunted and turned. You knew, once Kidd woke up his drink would turn warm. So his was extra hot than others.

Once when a traitor was about to kill Kidd in his sleep, the first mate used the boiling hot coffee which was on the captains stand just in time. So... its not only a drink but also a weapon.

You quickly handed the rest of the crew, their mugs and went to the kitchen to brew the stew for the breakfast. Yes ofcourse it was wished by Kidd himself the day before.

You saw the first mate eating his pasta peacefully with his mask on. Before you were the cook, he cooked for the crew and this became his habbit to eat before the crew. He never removed his mask. Not once he revealed his face.

It would be a lie, if you said you weren't interested how he looked like and why he wore his mask always. But slowly you got used to him and his behaviour around you.

He always told you what to add and always asked what you were making. His special interest to the ingredients was weird. He looked at the ingredients and cut them for you everytime. As if you'd poison the food, if he wasn't around.

You were getting pissed by his actions day by day. You went to the stove and continued to stir the stew.

The breakfast was hectic with the rowdy crew and their massive appetite. You did feel someone staring at you once in a while. There would be 2 people if you felt like someone is staring at you. One being heat and other, the blond. Heat sat beside you, so you knew it wasnt him. And you made sure Heat could over come his shyness and ask you for food instead of staring.

You turned to look at Killer and yes, his mask was facing you. You shook your head and continued to eat the food.

And after a bit of training with Heat and Wire, you went to the kitchen to make lunch.

You got irritated when you saw the vegetables already cut. It was the work of Killer and you couldn't do anything but to sigh. You quickly started to mix the already cut veggies with the spices.

Making the Lunch was a bit peaceful. Because during this time, Killer and Kidd used to talk about some upcoming events and handled some paperwork. Sometimes they would build machines or new types of weapons.

The dinner was again a bit difficult. You could cut the vegetables this time but, he'd come to the kitchen and ask you what you were making. Sometimes he used to read books during this time. Sometimes it felt weird if... he wasn't in the kitchen.

Just like everyday after dinner, you now sat in the kitchen alone and looked at the new recipes, thinking what to make tomorrow. And like a routine, Heat came towards the Kitchen and stared at you for a few seconds before calling you.

"Hey.. Y/N", you immediately looked at him and knew what he was about to say. So you got up and went towards the fridge.

"Can I have any leftover dessert you made today", he asked as you closed the door with the dessert in your hands.

Walking towards him you placed the food before him and sat opposite to him.

He smiled happily and took a bite of the dessert and started to eat it with delight.

Yes you loved to see people enjoy the food you make. So you always made sure to save a portion for him.

You decided to ask Heat the question you had for months.

"Heat, can I ask you something"

He swallowed the dessert in his mouth and nodded.

"So... its actually about Killer", you said. Heat curiously leaned over to listen to you.

So, actually.. i feel like he is really suspicious of whatever I do and its really bothering me", you said before closing the cook book and sitting straight.

"How can he be so suspicious even after I am here for more than 4 months. I mean, if he has any problem with me, he needs to tell me right. What should I do? ", you ended with an ask and looked at him curious eyes.

He took another bite of the dessert and started to think carefully.

Finally he answered by saying, "I am pretty sure Killer is not doubting you. Maybe its better if you ask him"

"Why do you think its not the case?"

"Well, if it was... you wouldn't be alive. Its as simple as that."

'Damn that makes perfect sense. Why didn't I think like that', you mentally facepalmed yourself.

"Y/N, I believe there is something else. Why not just ask him", he suggested taking another bite.

"Yeah... thanks", you smiled at him and leaned back into your chair as you continued, "ill do that"

But ofcourse. It wasn't that easy to ask Killer. So a few days passed and one evening, the crew reached an island.

After docking, Kidd wanted to get drunk and fight other drunkards in the bar. Thinking it was a good chance to slip out of the place. The island was beautiful and the stars started to twinkle in the sky.

You walked aimlessly in the streets, which were a bit dark but still were beautiful. You didn't have to be scared. You are strong. One of the Kidd pirates. The one who always trains with the super soldiers heat and wire.

Then a park caught your attention. Walking in it you saw a slide.

'Ha... memories', you thought as you walked towards it.

The next thing you knew was you climbing up on the slide. You were ready to slide down it then you noticed the mask staring at you. You didn't know what to do. Your mind was blocked with the embarrassment. Still you slid down. Oh my... the 2 seconds slide was definitely awkward.

Both of you were so silent and just kept staring at eachother, with a blank expression.

You swore you could see his shoulders shaking. Was he... trying to hold back his laughter?

"What is so funny?", you asked with your cheeks flushed pink.

Damn he turned to another side to avoid looking at you, while he still tried to hold his laugh.

"I.. I just felt like... playing because its been a while", you tried to explain yourself while folding your arms. Then he slowly turned to look at you.

"I... didn't ask you anything", he said folding his arms.

"Tsk... why did you come here anyway?", you asked but you didn't receive any answer. You started to walk towards the swing now. He quietly followed you a few steps behind. Well you got caught so, there is no reason to hide or sacrifice the urge to play.

You sat on the swing and looked at him slowly coming towards you.

"Killer! Push the swing up high", you asked.. more like ordered.

He stood behind you in a blink of an eye and pushed the swing forward. It had been so long since you played like this.

The cool breeze felt so good. You chuckled as soon as he pushed you a bit higher. Oh how it felt like music to his ears.

After a while you asked him to stop it. You tripped as you felt a bit dizzy after swinging for so long. Ofcourse Killer was there to make sure you didn't fall down. You tapped his shoulder and made him to sit on the swing.

"Now It's your turn", you declared.

"Woah, you don't have to", he said but you didn't care and pushed the swing forward. If Killer didn't have his mask on, you could've looked at how he blushed at your actions.

Then you suddenly thought about what Heat told you. You decided it was the correct time to ask him as it was neither awkward nor anyone interrupted you two.

"So, Killer I wanted to ask you something for a while now", you saw that Killer definitely flinched when you said it.

"Wh..what is it?", he replied trying to keep him as calm as ever.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, you are always in the kitchen, asking me what I was doing, what I was adding, what ingredients I was using. It feels like you don't trust me", you pushed him again but he stopped to swing, by placing his legs on the ground.

"Oh no! I do trust you. I never thought you'd misunderstand my actions", he said facing you. You gave him a confused expression for which, he turned away and sighed.

"I was... trying to help you", he mumbled.

Your cheeks turned red at his answer. Then everything made sense. The way he always tried to make you know what the crew liked. How he cut veggies and other items for you. How he made his own pasta to lessen your work.

'God damn it! Now that I think, Ofcourse he was helping me', you started to curse yourself inside.

"So... you didn't knew it", his faced down looking at the ground beneath him.

"Im sorry. Killer please forgive me", you crouched before him and looked up at his mask. 'Aww how sad he seemed now.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice that you were helping me", you said taking his hand in yours.

"Its alright. It might've been my fault. I am this weird looking mask dude. No wonder you got scared"

"No no Killer. Its not because of your mask. Its not your fault. It was my fault. You are calm and collected. You always analyse things before hand. You solve fights between the crew members. You always did help me. You were always around me and made sure I didn't feel uncomfortable. You are an amazing cook and a great partner", you ended saying it.

Well with the last part you got carried away and got real close to his mask. As if you were kissing his mask.

Oh damn. You pulled back but... you were damn fricking sure, you saw shiney light blue eyes.

"Thanks Y/N", he said getting up and as you both still held hands, he pulled you up.

He placed his other hand on your waist to make sure you had balence before letting you go. He waved to you and started to walk towards the exit.

For some reason, you felt like, you'd really miss something if you just let him go now. As if... you'd not see him like always. Your legs worked their way and now you were running behind Killer.

"Killer stop!", you said and he tuned back to look at you. You couldn't stop your legs and almost tackled him down. But he was way too strong for you to tackle him down. So now, his arms were supporting you. Again!

You almost died with embarrassment but... you had to tell him.

"I didn't hate it", you said but he didn't reply. More like he didn't even know what to reply. Or... he didnt even understand what you meant.

"I didn't hate when you helped me. Infact I... liked it. Thanks for helping me then and also from now on too. So please do stay with me", you ended the sentence with looking down at the ground. It was quiet for a while.

'The fuck... why did it sound like a-'

"Is this a confession?", he asked

Your cheeks turned red at his question.

"Ah- I... But...", you struggled to come with an answer then you noticed his shoulders shaking again.

"Idiot! Dont laugh!", you shoved him back and started to walk away.

"Hey wait. No one dared to shove me and walk away", he said and followed you. You smirked at that and continued to walk with your head up.

He then continued, "Well.... except for Kidd, when he is on his period"

This shit made you to crack up and you laughed.

"Damn Kidd would kill you", you said as you placed your hand in his and you two continued to talk. You felt so warm in your heart when you held Killers hand.

Maybe something was about to start between you two.

Meanwhile in the bar of the island.

"*Achoo* I hope I didn't catch a cold", Kidd said as he snatched a drink from another person and started to make a ruckus in the bar.

XOXOXOXO

I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I hope I made justice to my very first Killer fic. I enjoyed writing so much for Killer. He is a comfort charecter of mine after Sanji. I tried so much to get a good plot for Killer.

Like/vote, comment, share/reblog to support me.

Follow for more!

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #op killer #massacre soldier killer #one piece killer #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #kid pirates #eustass kid #one piece heat #kid pirates x reader #killer one piece

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Covenant: Study Habits

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,095

Summary: You are stressing about finals and need to study. When Pogue graciously volunteers to be your study buddy, you don’t refuse the offer.

Silence and solitude, you decided, were your ideal conditions for studying for finals. Spencer Academy was a fairly serious institution given its status as a prep school, but the library and various common areas tended to transform into social scenes, especially during this point in the semester. As much as you enjoyed the chatter and laughs, you really needed to study in order to pass your physics final and make the honor roll.

At first you tried moving your studying to your dorm, which was definitely quieter, but it didn’t exactly give off study vibes either. It was way too easy to take a nap or raid your snack stash or eavesdrop on conversations that were happening in the hallway.

You looked and looked for a good spot and you finally found it in the discovery of the school’s shop classroom. Not many students at Spencer took wood or metal shop that you were aware of and you were a little surprised those classes were offered at all. The room itself was tucked away in a dim basement that shared space with random storage rooms and an unused bomb shelter, a relic leftover from the 1940s.

The day you found it was also the day you found out that the room’s door wasn’t locked by the teacher, which wasn’t good from a security standpoint, but made entering very easy for you whenever you dropped by after hours to study.

Being a shop classroom, it was mostly open space and machinery, not unlike a garage situation. You were extra careful not to disturb any of the projects-in-progress, even though some of them looked really cool, and avoided all of the tools, most of which you couldn’t name much less identify.

But there were a couple of waist high counter tables along one wall so you could sit down. The height was just right where you could alternate between sitting on a stool and standing on your feet which was honestly better for your circulation. Most importantly, it was abandoned at this time of night and that meant no distractions.

The sneaking around continued for a couple of days until your anxiety had had enough, prompting you to find out the teacher’s information so that you could email them and ask formal permission to use the room when school wasn’t in session. Mr. Clarke seemed happy enough to let you use it and you decided you liked him even though you had never met in person.

It wasn’t even until the second week of studying down there that you finally saw someone other than yourself. You had just finished dinner and made the trek from the dorms to the shop room when you noticed them. A radio played softly in the distance but as you got closer and closer to your spot, you figured out that it was coming from the room.

You paused just outside the door and debated whether you should still go in or not; you really needed to get through some practice problems, but would you still be as productive if someone else was in there? You really should do these problems. Besides, maybe the other person would leave soon.

The metal handle clicked as you opened the door.

A small boombox was blaring some Green Day out of its speakers and figure in a black tee sat next to it fiddling with a hand drill.

Wanting to get his attention before the drill started up you cleared your throat loudly.

Beautiful hazel eyes locked onto you immediately and you felt a little breathless. That was before he turned fully around and you were better able to appreciate his toned chest and arms through the black fabric of his shirt, small barely detectable sawdust particles attached themselves to his jeans.

“Hey there,” he greeted with a raised hand.

Of all people to run into you couldn’t believe that it was Pogue Parry, one of, and in your opinion, the student body’s top eye candies. Dazzled, all you managed was a timid wave back.

He cocked his head, his shaggy hair falling slightly to the side. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Come on, Y/N. Get it together and answer the boy.

“Actually, we have—”

“Physics together,” he finished with a smile. “I know. I meant down here in the shop.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. He recognized you! A Son of Ipswich noticed that you were in a class with him and you were so excited that you managed to ignore the fact that you had misunderstood him. “You’re right about that. I’ve only been coming here for, like, a week. I got permission to study here.”

“Cool. Mr. Clarke is a sweetheart so I’m not surprised.”

Trying to get back on track you asked, “How long do you think you’ll be working on that?”

Both of you looked at the drill.

“You probably want it quiet, huh? I can stop for today, this is just a side project I’m doing anyway, it’s gonna be a tv stand when it’s done. Definitely not as important as a final.”

As much as you felt bad for interrupting him and essentially taking over his spot, you took him up on his offer. He was now the hottest and kindest classmate in your mind. You dropped you backpack on the floor and spread your papers across the countertop trying your best to sneak peeks at Pogue where he was cleaning up a few feet away.

When he finished, he walked over. “What class are you studying for?”

“Physics.”

“No way!” He pulled up a stool and straddled it opposite of you.

It made you nervous to have him watch you write and when he pointed out a mistake you made, you felt like crawling into a hole. The eraser left behind eraser shavings as you corrected the error.

“Hey, wanna work together?” he asked either not noticing your embarrassment or choosing to ignore it.

“Sure,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Cool.”

He wasted no time and grabbed his own copy of the packet, clicking open a pen, ready to go.

You moved to the next problem and read it out loud.

“A block weighing 200 N is pushed along a surface. If it takes 80 N to get the block moving and 40 N to keep the block moving at a constant velocity, what are the coefficients of friction μs and μk?”

Pogue hunched over, quickly working it out when he noticed you sitting still, rubbing the end of your pencil against your mouth. Scooching over to your side of the counter he showed you his work and walked you through his steps.

“Wow, you’re really good at this.”

He laughed off the compliment. “Nah, I promise you I’m a pretty stupid student.”

“But you finished this problem in under a minute,” you insisted. “Meanwhile, I would’ve been stuck for hours and still have gotten it wrong.”

He stared at you and even though you couldn’t get a good read on him, it was too easy to get lost in his eyes. Eventually, he spoke.

“I don’t want to throw off your groove of anything, but maybe we can study together.”

Was this a dream? Because an invitation like that only happened in your fantasies.

“But I don’t know how that benefits you—you seem to a good handle on it already,” you admitted.

“As I told you, stupid student. Besides, my study habits are non-existent so maybe some of yours will rub off.”

You beamed at him, easily convinced. “Well then let’s go over the first problem again because I’m still confused...”

Every night for the next seven days Pogue met you in the basement and walked with you to the classroom for your study session. Despite not having a high opinion towards his academic abilities, he was very patient and effective tutor/partner.

“Wait, remember to multiply the variables in the parenthesis before subtracting it from the total. PEMAS is your friend Y/N.”

He was also very easy to talk to. Whenever he talked about his bike or swim regimen, two things you knew nothing about, he took the time to put it into words you understood without making you feel like an idiot. And when you were feeling chatty, he would actively take an interest in what you had to say.

“Hunger pains after a swim workout are the worst, especially after long swims where your aerobic systems are gassed. It feels like you’re one stomach growl away from wasting away.”

“Oh, speaking of food, I found a granola recipe. I don’t know who decide to mix coconut and cranberries with granola, but that palate combination amazing. I’ll bring you some if it turns out alright.”

“You’d better save me some then, even if it’s not to your ridiculously high standards. I can feed some to the boys, too.”

Time flew by and it didn’t feel like the studying had gone on for a whole week. Each session seemed to pass faster as you got to know him better, to see the him that didn’t have to be filtered for the public eye. You liked this side of him even better than what you have seen of him in class and in the halls.

But all things come to an end. On the last session before the final, you guys finally finished the last question in the review packet with a grateful exhale.

“You sir, are a physics godsend. I can’t believe we’re done with the whole review guide.”

“I hope the final isn’t as long as the guide is. He must’ve stuck every problem we did during the semester in this thing,” he complained.

“I really hope not,” you groaned. Because if it was, there was no way you would finished within the allotted one-hour period.

“But, I have a feeling you’re going to crush the exam. Just try your best not the set the curve too high, for the rest of our sakes.”

You playfully shoved him for the last part of his comment. Silence stretched on and you realized that this was the last time you guys were scheduled to study together. Fast on the heels of that thought was another: you didn’t want to leave. By the way he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, you hoped that meant he was reluctant as well.

“So…” he trailed off and you waited with bated breath. “Guess we should pack up, it’s almost nine.”

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment at his words. “Yeah, I guess.”

For a second, you were tempted to ask him out, or at least see if he wanted to hang out as friends, but you decided against it. He was the type that would’ve spoken up if he were interested. Best just to act dignified and be thankful that he bothered helping you in the first place.

You were steps away from walking out the door when he stopped you by grabbing your hand.

“Actually, what I meant to ask is if you want to get a bite to eat after the test tomorrow. Is that weird?”

Your pulse fluttered in obvious joy.

“You mean like a date?” you breathed.

“Yeah. You’re a pretty cool, Y/N, and I’d be sad if this is the last time we hang out.”

“I would love to,” you assured him with a huge smile on your face.

He reached to slowly envelope you in a hug, and even if the angle was a little awkward due to the backpacks being in the way, you automatically hugged back. You were thrilled to discover that he smelled like an exotic mix of leather and, dare you say, magic.

You were even more thrilled when he walked you back to the dorms like the sweet boy you had observed him to be over the past week. Luckily there weren’t any people loitering out in the hallway because if word got out that a Son of Ipswich had walked you to your room, the whole school would know by morning and you were enjoying the moment far too much to have to worry about that.

“Good luck tomorrow. See you on the flip side,” he said in parting.

That night you laid in bed but felt like you were on cloud nine. In less than twenty-four hours, you would be done with physics for the semester and have had a date with Pogue Parry. Pogue Parry! You snuggled into your pillow and swore his scent still lingered freshly in your nose.

_______________

I was super inspired yesterday and wrote this. Good luck to everyone that’s prepping for final exams! Thanks for reading.

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

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detective-giggles · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Love

Alright, apparently this is my brand, submitting bingo fics with less than 10 minutes until the deadline. This fic covers the “Love Letters” square in thatesqcrush’s “Love You Love You Not” bingo. Barisi.

Word count: 2k+.

Warnings: a few naughty words. Unbeta’d. And, be warned, this is an amnesia fic. Also, I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on tv- any inaccuracies are mine. I googled basic amnesia info, but let’s face it, the tv version of amnesia we see is much better than the real-life version.

Sonny unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Well, here we are,” he murmured comfortingly, “home, sweet, home.”

Rafael hesitated at the door. Sonny was incredibly patient, his hand near the small of Rafael’s back but not actually touching him, which he appreciated. Rafael slowly stepped over the threshold into the apartment and Sonny followed close behind. Sonny shut the door, locking it behind them and paused, toeing off his shoes. Rafael followed suit and then looked around, his eyes taking in as many details as he could.

Sonny led him into the kitchen. “How about if I show you around, and then we can just rest before dinner?”

Rafael let out an amused snort at the thought of someone having to show him around his own apartment. He nodded slowly and followed Sonny as he pointed out all the important rooms. He made a few jokes, but Rafael couldn’t tell whether he was actually nervous or if he was just trying to put him at ease.

“And, the bedroom.”

Rafael looked around. His gaze lingered on the bed and then back to Sonny, who was watching him carefully. “I, uh, made up the bed in the guest room. I can sleep there until you’re more comfortable, or until you remember who I am.”

“You would do that for me?”

Sonny smiled, “of course. You’re my husband. There’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Thank you. That’s sweet, I think.”

“Of course. I’m gonna go get dinner started and I’d like to make your favorite if that’s okay?”

Rafael sat on the edge of the bed and shrugged. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble for me. Anything is fine, or we can pick something up?”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” Sonny pointed out which dresser was his, and which side of the closet his things were in. “Get some rest, you’ve had a long couple of days.”

Rafael sighed and looked around the bedroom again. He wanted to find something more comfortable to sleep in, but he felt weird going through the drawers, even though he knew they were his.

The dresser, like the apartment, felt foreign to him. He couldn’t remember ever living here, even though he had seen enough evidence to the contrary. He anxiously fiddled with the wedding band on his finger, another puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

The doctors were optimistic that the memory loss would be only temporary, but it had been two days so far, and he was no closer to unlocking the secrets in his own head. Stressed and alone, Rafael curled up until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

***

“Then what happened?” Rafael took another bite. Dinner was delicious, and after the crappy, under-seasoned hospital food, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. Sonny was carrying on the conversation, of course. Rafael had asked Sonny about their wedding, and apparently, it was quite the spectacle.

Sonny tossed his napkin on the table and leaned in, laughing, “so then her dog, Frannie, got loose and knocked over the cake. We bought a cake from the best bakery in Manhattan, and that darn dog was the only one to enjoy it.”

“Why was the dog at our wedding?”

Sonny stood and shrugged as he gathered their plates. “She’s family. And she loves you. I think it’s because you always have snacks for her. She’s not supposed to get people food, but she always manages to get her fill of pretzels when you’re around.”

“So because I give her illicit snacks, she felt it was okay to eat our wedding cake? Sounds fair.” Rafael leaned against the counter and watched as Sonny tucked the leftovers into the fridge and started washing the dishes. “So, what do we usually do? Is this a typical night for us?”

Sonny chuckled, “what? You watching me clean? Yes, pretty typical.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I guess I-“

“It’s okay. I was teasing. It’s kinda what we do.”

“Tease each other? Like children?”

“Well, it sounds weird when you put it that way. But yes. You started it.”

“I started it?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

Sonny grinned, “I love it.”

“Well, alright then. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Sonny finished the dishes quickly and disappeared for a few minutes as Rafael figured out his way around the kitchen, slowly, drying them and putting them away.

They sat and talked a little more and Sonny answered Rafael’s questions about his life. Their life. It was nearly midnight when Rafael retired for the evening, telling Sonny good night, and slipping into the bedroom, exhausted.

He turned and saw a small, square envelope on his pillow. He sat down and opened the envelope, pulling out the handwritten note inside.

Rafael,

I’ve never told you this but I think I first fell in love with your laugh. We were at the bar with the squad and I told a joke. (In all honesty, I think you were laughing at me and not with me), but I didn’t care. It was a beautiful sound and I knew I wanted to hear it every day for the rest of my life.

All my love,

Rafael smiled and carefully tucked the letter away in a dresser drawer before crawling into bed.

***

Days went by and Rafael was no closer to remembering anything about his life. He and Sonny had eased into a routine, they had hoped filling his days with familiar places and people would spark some memories, instead, it was only frustrating him.

Rafael and Sonny went for walks around the city in the morning and then joined family or close friends for lunch. His favorite, so far, was Rita, a friend from law school. She kept them way too late, telling them stories about their shenanigans at Harvard.

Afternoons were reserved for resting or a nap since Rafael found himself constantly exhausted. They made dinner together in the evenings, and Rafael was surprised to find he wasn’t half bad at this cooking thing. The food was good and they had fun making it and trying out new recipes. They relaxed together after dinner, usually on the couch with a movie.

Days turned into weeks but every so often, Rafael found a new letter from Sonny. Each one was handwritten like the first, describing another detail in their relationship. Their first date. His proposal to Sonny. Their honeymoon to Italy. Some were pages long and others were short, only a few sentences, but Rafael poured over them all, reading and re-reading each one.

It hurt Rafael’s heart to read them, he could only imagine how hard they were for Sonny to write, documenting the best moments of their lives for him, knowing he didn’t remember any of it and not knowing if he ever would.

Frustrated, Rafael carefully bundled the letters and slipped them into the drawer. He headed down the hall and knocked on the door to the guest room, pushing the door open. “Sonny?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I?”

“Yeah, yes of course.” Sonny shifted, leaving enough room for Rafael to climb into bed with him. “Come here, what’s wrong?”

“I just- your letters. We have so much history. Sonny, it’s been so long. What if I can’t…what if I don’t remember?”

“It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ve had some good times, Rafael, but we’ll figure it out. If you don’t have the old memories, we’ll just have to make new ones, is all.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’m not gonna give up yet. You’re remembering things, slowly, just give it some more time, okay?”

“Okay,” Rafael whispered. “I’m sorry, I’ll go to bed and stop freaking out.”

“You’re welcome to stay. Only if you want.”

Rafael nodded, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“I love you, Rafi. I always have. I always will.”

***

Rafael rolled over restlessly, reaching for Sonny. His hand hit the sheets and he cracked open his eyes, realizing he was in bed alone. He blinked slowly, it wasn’t even eight am but he could smell coffee and bacon, and that pulled him out of bed despite the early hour. He grabbed his phone and squinted in confusion at the date: March 30th.

The older he got, the faster time seemed to fly, but this was ridiculous. Could the date on his phone be wrong? Was that even possible? He had been crazy busy, prepping for a big trial, but that wasn’t unusual. How had he managed to lose track of more than two weeks and let his anniversary sneak up on him like this?

He climbed out of bed and made his way down the hall and into the kitchen, hoping some caffeine would help.

“Good morning,” Sonny murmured as he cracked a couple of eggs into a skillet. “Happy Anniversary.”

Rafael grunted and moved past him, pouring himself a cup of coffee and downing half of it in a few large gulps. He leaned against the counter and refilled his mug, taking a couple of smaller sips.

“So, it really is our Anniversary? Weird.”

“It is. I know you don’t remember, and I promise I didn’t make any extravagant plans for us. I just thought we could stay here, I’ll make us a little dinner, maybe we could watch a movie.”

“I believe that’s what you said last year, and then proceeded to cook us a five-course meal.”

“Better than any restaurant in town. Wait wait, you remember our last anniversary?” Sonny turned, his head cocked to the side. He was trying not to be overly hopeful, he had told a lot of stories in the past few weeks, and he wasn’t sure that Rafael wasn’t just parroting back something Sonny had already told him.

Rafael sipped again and snorted. “Kinda hard to forget with you fucking me into the mattress every chance you got. Also, why do you think I wouldn’t remem- what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Rafi. I- you...”

“What are you trying to say? Sonny, use your big boy words.”

“You. Holy shit, Rafi!” Sonny wrapped his arms around Rafael, pulling him into a hug and burying his face in Rafael’s neck. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’m right here.”

Sonny sniffled, not even trying to hide the tears, and shook his head. “You were. Here. But... you weren’t. Rafael, there was an...incident at your office. You were hurt. Mostly minor injuries, except for…some pretty severe memory loss. You didn’t know who I was. I mean, you hardly knew who you were.” He ran his fingers through Rafael’s hair and leaned in, resting his forehead against Rafael’s.

“Sonny, I could never forget you.” He caught Sonny’s hand in his and turned, placing gentle kisses on his palm.

“You did, Rafi. It was the worst three weeks of my life. I was so scared. For you, for us.”

“I’m a little scared you’re gonna catch that pan on fire,” Rafael murmured. Sonny laughed and stepped back, pushing the pan off the burner and turned it off.

“So, you wanna go out for one last brunch, just the two of us before we tell everyone the good news?”

“Sounds great.”

“I’m gonna just hop in the shower and then we can go.” Sonny disappeared down the hall. Rafael followed shortly behind and as he entered the bedroom, he noticed a yellow piece of paper on the floor near Sonny’s jeans. It must have fallen out of his pocket. He unfolded it and recognized his own handwriting immediately.

Sonny-

The past few weeks have been challenging, for us both, I assume.

I don’t think I can ever explain how it feels to have a chunk of my life just…gone. To forget the people and the things who have played such an important part in my life and who have shaped me into the person I am.

I don’t know what I would have done without your support. Thank you for being my friend, my rock, and my husband. You make me feel safe and loved, and you’ve been there when I needed you.

Apparently, I have managed to fall for you not only once, but twice, so if that’s not a sign we’re soulmates, I don’t know what is.

I don’t know what will happen. I can hope I’ll wake up in a week or a month and remember everything, but I do know, whatever happens, I want you by my side. For all of it. But if I don’t remember, I don’t want to wait to start making new memories. So consider this our (second) first “I love you”.

I love you to the moon and back,

Rafael

Taglist: @moderateshouting @itsjustmyfantasyroom @beccabarba @thatesqcrush

#thatesqcrushvdaybingo #love letters #amnesia #barisi #dominick carisi jr #rafael barba #romantic #fluff #angst

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

chicken noodle soup

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, a little angst. just a dash.

word count: 1779

description: chef!au; bucky makes you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick, and you guys have a talk.

note: i’m extremely sick and this is what i wrote, i needed a little comfort. if you have a request for the next dish, let me know loves.

just a taste masterlist

You watched the corded muscles of his back from your spot on the sofa. His right arm moving up and down, steadily chopping carrots as the garlic and onions sweat in a large pot on the stove. His left arm, something you still didn’t ask him about, mottled skin covered with blooming flowers, a rosary, whisping into a vintage pinup girl that posed on his forearm, hands tangled in her hair as she arched her back against the flowers behind her as if laying in a field of flowers.

His left arm held down the vegetable, knuckles facing the knife as he cut the carrots into thick pieces, practiced fingers running against the blade before he switched hands, left moving not quite as steadily, but still practiced.

You were sure your apartment smelled delicious, if only you could smell it.

He came over even though you’d told him not to. Last night when you’d stumbled in your front door after a very draining workweek. The winter deadline met, first quarter final report submitted and a head pounding and nose clogged you’d collapsed onto your couch with a bottle of NyQuil. Dead to the world.

He’d called worried, you’d been telling him you hadn’t felt well all week. “You need to rest babydoll,” He scolded, you’d rolled your eyes on the phone with him, your heart warming with the concern laced in his voice, toeing your socks off before slipping under the covers. “Stark can go a day or two without you.”

“After this week ends,” You said, “I just have to meet Friday’s deadline and then I’ll rest.” Friday had happened, and everything was done. And you collapsed on your sofa. Resting.

His call came in two hours after you’d fallen asleep, a groggy, “Hi baby.” And he sighed,

“I’m coming over.” You snuggled deeper into the cushions of the sofa you’d spent way too much money on, suddenly appreciating how large and soft it was.

“I’ll be fine,” You croaked, “Really.” But you could already hear his keys in his hand.

The food truck had been doing really well, well enough that Bucky and Sam hired some extra help. A kid named Peter who needed an after school job that would just handle plating and taking money while Sam or Bucky cooked, finally giving them enough time off between them to start seriously looking for commercial space for their restaurant. Something Bucky had been giddy about for weeks.

“I told Sam I needed tomorrow off,” He said, toeing off his boots by the front door. Your sleepy face peering at him from behind the blankets pulled up to your nose. “But I’ll have to work Sunday.” He had a large paper bag he’d set on the counter before padding over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You really didn’t have to come,” Your nose stuffed and red, a pile of discarded tissues next to you on the coffee table and reruns of Survivor playing on TV. He rolled his eyes, picking the snotty mess of tissues up and saying,

“When’s the last time you ate?” You didn’t know. “Here.” A glass of orange juice and a glass of water, “You need liquids.” You sniffled and he ran his fingers best he could through your tangled hair. “Wouldn’t you rather be in bed?”

“I’m comfy here.” You mumbled, eyes half lidded. He nods, brushing his thumb across your cheek,

“Sleep babydoll, I’ll wake you up to eat.”

He’d refilled your water, the small sips for your scratchy throat was a marvel. He’d placed a pack of honey cough drops and a new bottle of NyQuil on the coffee table. There was a multi-pack of tissues sitting still in the plastic beside them. The tv had been turned down to a quiet amble. He was listening to some kind of podcast in the kitchen.

He poured a box of chicken broth into the large pot. A smaller pot next to it cooking egg noodles. A ginger root sat idly beside the stove.

You knew Bucky loved to cook, he loved making you things you’d never tried before, he’d love to experiment with flavors and you were his own personal guinea pig to try new recipes. They were trying to nail down their menu after all. But he would also make the best comfort food that warmed your very soul.

He knew exactly what you needed and when you needed it. And this soup, as stuffy and clogged, as your head pounded and your body ached, you needed this soup.

He stirred, a strand of hair falling into his eyes. It must be late. He’d changed into pajamas. The loose sweats and t-shirt wasn’t what he was wearing when he first arrived. He must have felt your eyes on him, turning to look at you as you pulled your lips into a chapped smile. He laughed softly,

“You look so pathetic.” He joked, pulling a bowl from the cabinet.

“I am.” You whined, rubbing your head against the pillow, comfortably watching him scoop some noodles into the bowl before ladling the broth on top. Chicken, carrots, celery, mushrooms, a bit of grated ginger, the broth was dark from some soy sauce. Red pepper flakes mixed in and garnished with cilantro. “Spicy Asian chicken noodle soup.” The broth hit your nose and you could almost feel your sinuses clear then. “You’ll be able to breathe again by the end of this.” His socked toes meeting yours as he curled up next to you, sitting you up and handing you the bowl. “I know you like spice.”

It was so fucking good. Runny nose be damned. You hadn’t realized how hungry you actually were. A bowl was finished, and then a second. His fingers tracing up and down your spine while you ate.

“If you’re not feeling better by Sunday, you should call out on Monday.” The soup had been packed and stored in your fridge. The noodles separate from the broth. “Stark can afford to go one day without you. You have those sick days for a reason.” You know. You know.

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you tight into his chest.

“I’m gonna get you sick.” You mumbled into his soft well worn shirt. His fingers massage your scalp, your eyes drooping.

“I’ll be fine,” He pressed his lips to your head, “Don’t worry about me. Sleep sweetheart.”

And you did.

“So next week Steve is coming up from DC for the weekend.” Bucky called from the kitchen, heating up the leftover soup from last night, “If you’re feeling better by then we were going to go out to dinner, he’s been asking about you and Sam and I think it would be good for you to meet him if you can.” Steve. The other part of the trio.

Bucky had told you they were inseparable once, meeting in basic training the three of them becoming quick friends. Their paths crossed a year after, the three of them chosen to be part of a special ops squad that moved mostly undercover. It didn’t need to be said that the story behind his left arm was buried there somewhere. But he wasn’t ready for that yet. And that’s okay.

“If you’d like me to.” Honestly it gave you anxiety. You and Bucky hadn’t really had the talk yet, the two of you not even breaching the conversation having sex after spending the majority of the last month together. There was making out, kissing, and a lot of it. But if he wanted you to meet

Steve it must mean something right?

But there was still this paranoia, this little niggling in your brain that made you feel like the rug was going to be pulled from beneath you. Just like it had before.

How many times had you been really into a guy and when it came to the point, in what you thought was a relationship, to meet his friends or family he was suddenly really shady about it. A guy had literally told you once, “My friends would make fun of me if I dated a fat girl.” That had been a heavy blow.

And you know you’re beautiful, you know you’re smart, and you know that you can survive on your own. But you didn’t want to anymore. You wanted to start working towards a partner, possibly getting married, maybe having or adopting kids. And Bucky seemed so perfect. A little too perfect.

“Of course I want you to.” Meet Steve. The bowl was carefully handed to you while he settled down next to you with his own bowl. “Why wouldn’t I want you to?” The soup was just as good as you remembered it from last night. It had been late, almost one am when the two of you cuddled up on the couch and cleared your sinuses for the first time in a week.

You shrug, spooning more of the spicy salty broth into your mouth. He gives you a strange look, “You’re my girlfriend,” Brow scrunched, “Girlfriends typically meet their boyfriend’s friends.” Your chapped lips parted and closed, “I mean I know we never like, officially, said anything, but… I thought you knew we were together.” His voice sounded a little sad. His eyes meet yours, placing his bowl on the coffee table.

You shook your head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted to--” You sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. No, we are together.”

“Did you think we weren’t?” The bowl was taken from your hands and gently placed beside his on the coffee table, grasping your cold hands in his.

“I�� I didn’t know,” It was hard to look at him, “Sometimes, it’s just…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear what my intentions were.” His voice level and reassuring, “I want to be with you, I want to be your boyfriend.” Your eyes glassy. Your period was probably going to start soon, to be fair. You’d cried during Masterchef earlier when the girl had burned her sauce. It had been devastating.

“No, I’m sorry.” You shook your head, “Communication goes both ways and I just didn’t think to ask.” In case you said no. He softly pressed his lips to yours,

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” You sniffle,

“You’re gonna get sick.” Bucky rolls his eyes, smiling,

“Are you gonna answer my question or not?” You bit a little dry skin off your bottom lip before nodding,

“Yes.”

The next weekend had been at his own apartment, his stuffy nose and watery coughs a mimic of yours. The dinner with Steve would have to wait.

taglist // @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @the-soulofdevil @tinmunky @albinotigerpython

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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thebickedwitchoftherest · 4 years

Text

Oh My God, They Were Roommates || Camille & Cece

Timing: Sometime before Jane moved in (please don’t roast me)

Location: Cece’s house

Parties: Cece & @carrionxcamille

Summary: When Camille moved in with Cece they share dinner and get to know each other.

Camille was going to owe Cece for the rest of her life, and she didn’t even care about the debt.

Once she’d chucked her pitiful backpack of belongings- yes, she still had that little stuff to her name- into the bedroom that was to be hers, Camille bolted straight to the bathroom, throwing an apology over her shoulder for how long she was about to steal the shower for. Hey, the water pressure in that motel had done absolutely nothing for her hair. When she did eventually leave the bathroom in a flourish of steam with a towel wrapped around her head she felt more at peace than she had in months. Seriously, the wonders of a good hot shower never ceased to amaze.

It was a little while after that she left her room again, in the silky new pajama set she’d treated herself too with her hair soft and shiny and actually dry, since the hairdryer here didn’t threaten to overheat if you had it on for more than five minutes.

The fun didn’t stop there though, because now Camille had a whole actual kitchen to play with. “Cece, I’m gonna make dinner!” She called out, already rummaging through the fridge for ideas- she’d have to start writing the lists for their grocery shopping, this place was lacking- “stop me if you don’t like spaghetti carbonara!” She was already starting anyway, feeling lighter and more at ease than she had in weeks. To be in a real home again really lifted her spirits.

In almost no time at all she had food set on the table- she was only sorry they didn’t have anything she could make dessert with, but ice cream would do- and was pouring a glass of white wine for each of the girls. “I’m sorry I immediately took over your shower and kitchen.” Camille said, now that some of her excitement had given way and reminded her of her manners, “I hope you like dinner, anyway. I just wanted to say thank you to you, for having me. It means a lot that you’d help me like you have.”

Cece had been laughing to herself the entire day. As sad as it was, Camille didn’t have much to move with her when Cece set off on helping her move out of that shithole motel she had been trapped in. Nothing but a few small bags that needed transferred to the first of Cece’s guest bedrooms. It had been the same one that Morgan had used after a similar situation had her moving in. Personally, Cece loved the feeling. As horribly as her own circumstances had ended up with the coven, they had still taken her in after getting kicked out of her own home. When she had nowhere else to go, they had taken her in. Obviously, Cece wasn’t about to pull some bullshit like that, but she could pay it back minus the whole culty murder part.

As Camille made herself home and found her way to the fridge, Cece gravitated over towards it and joined her, grabbing a chair at the barstool that looked into the kitchen. “Ooh, Carbonara? Now that’s fancy.” Cece would take whatever Cam was planning on cooking. Cece wasn’t a picky eater by means, and she also wasn’t much of a cook. Cece had learned a few recipes from Morgan but rarely cooked them for herself.

“Hey, feel free to cook in my kitchen any time. Especially if you’re making enough for two.” Cece held up her wine glass that Camille had poured as if in cheers, “But don’t worry. I have a full bathroom in my room. That one is all yours.” Cece didn’t waste any time digging into the food, nodding her head and giving a thumbs up after the first mouthful, “Oh this shit is bomb” Cece finally spoke after she finished chewing, digging right back in for another bite. “You don’t have to thank me. You needed a place that wasn’t a den for up and coming serial killers. I have two guest rooms. It all worked out. I’d love to know what convinced you to come here of all places.”

She was safe here, that was the other thing. It was so much easier to breathe when you couldn’t hear your vampire neighbors through the walls discussing some party, when you weren’t watching another sad looking lost soul slip through the door of the drug dealer who lived on the other side. This felt like the kind of place she could start her life again. Save up, get an ID and her own place. It would be nice to have company, too. Camille had spent so much time staring blankly at terrible wallpaper with no one to talk too. “You’re in luck, I don’t really know how to cook for just one person.” She laughed, taking a seat at the table and raising her own glass in return to Cece’s gesture.

It was a simple meal, by her standards anyway, but even Camille was blown away by how good it tasted after weeks of microwave meals and cold sandwiches. “I’m glad you like it- you’ll have to let me know if there’s anything you absolutely won’t or can’t eat, I’ll do some grocery shopping later this week.” She was looking forward to that, too. Proper food shopping. She wondered if Cece had a vegetable crisper. Camille doesn’t answer the question at first, about what convinced her to move to White Crest. She’s not the first person to ask, and she has a party line about her parents living nearby which she knew she should use right now, but…

Camille was remembering the bar, that joke that had been made about Cece hexing someone. Was she really a witch? There wasn’t anything in the house that screamed witchcraft to Cam, but then again she had no idea what sort of stuff that would really be. She ate and drank quietly for a while, considering what to say. If Cam asked outright and Cece turned out to not be a witch, to not know about or believe in any of that kind of stuff, it would be throwing a serious wrench in their dynamic just as they were getting to know eachother. No one wanted a crazy roommate, and spouting off about witches was exactly that. “My parents live nearby.” She spoke up after a while, giving Cece a bright smile and a shrug, “I’d heard about this place growing up and I figured… Well, if there was a time to live in the weird town it was now, right? If nothing else there’s always something wacky going on if I need a distraction.” Which she did, often. “What about you? Why are you in White Crest?”

Cece leaned back in her chair dramatically and patted her belly, “Don’t you worry roomie. This girl eats and and everything. I’m not picky.” Unlike her adopted parents, who both had a myriad of food allergies and dietary restrictions, her genetic parents (fuck them wherever they may be) had graced her with the appetite and taste buds to enjoy just about anything. And no allergies that she knew of to worry about. “I’m not gonna leave you completely hanging though, don’t worry. I can’t cook for shit, but I’ll make an excellent sous-chef.” She feigned cutting vegetables with her fork and then took a huge bite of pasta, “You and me are about to put MasterChef to shame.”

Cece didn’t believe the answer, not entirely. Maybe it was because of the town itself. It just didn’t seem like people picked up and moved here on a whim. They came here on purpose, or they ended up here by some supernatural unlucky twist of fate. Maybe Camille really did just want a change. If she was looking for a little excitement in her life, then maybe she did turn to the town with a weird reputation. Back in high school, when Cece was full swing into her horror movie phase she probably would have done the same exact thing. She supposed it didn’t matter at the moment, Cam had only just moved in. The two weren’t obligated to explain the truth about them being here to each other. Cece had gotten more comfortable around town, helping out when needed, but that didn’t mean she was yelling it down the streets. “Long story. My family travelled a lot. They’re like the weird living off the Earth hippy types. We travelled all over the country before I finally decided to split off and make my own path. I just so happened to be up here in the New England area, so I looked for some job postings and bought a house.” Cece shrugged. Maybe it was an oversimplified version of the truth, but that story wasn’t one that she planned on telling to anyone. “Not nearly as glamorous as it sounds, honestly. Most of the time, I miss Cali. But this place has its own charms. Can’t complain about the company. Yourself included of course. Being roommates gives you automatic rights to the bestie list. Welcome to the club.”

Camille nods, pretty happy it seems like she’ll be able to have her run of recipes in this house- she’s already running through a list of her favorite things she wants to make first. Salmon, risotto, chickpea curry, stuffed vine leaves, sunday lunch! She’d done pretty much all the meal cooking at home- jobless Jace had made do with sandwiches or leftovers most of the time for lunch while she was at work- so it would be nice to get back into the swing of it, and actually have a little help. She’d read somewhere that cooking together could be a good bonding experience. Cam chuckled, “well that’s good. I’m sure you’ll be able to learn a little if we’re cooking together, too.” And she’d pick up a couple of her old favorite recipe books to leave behind once she moved out, too.

It was also nice to have her food appreciated for once, she’d been lucky to get so much as a thankyou out of Jace. Cam ate a little more as Cece explained how she’d found herself in town, quietly a little jealous that she’d travelled and seen so much more of the country than Cam ever had. From Bangor to Boston and pretty much back again. “Sounds like it must have made for a fun childhood.” She beams when Cece refers to her as a bestie- it’s been an awful long time since Camille has had proper friends. “Happy to be a member.” She says, “I think I’ve hit a patch of good luck, considering how coincidental it was that I met you that night at the bar.” She traces a finger around the rim of her wine glass, smiling wistfully, “hopefully it means things are turning around for me.”

Cece let herself laugh, whether it came across as genuine or sarcastic one was anybody’s guess. Must have made for a fun childhood. Explaining Cece’s past, even a felony free PG version of the tale, seemed complicated. Her life had been made up of different families. Her blood family that had never wanted her. Her adopted family that turned their backs on her. Her coven family, that took advantage of her. And her life here, with some semblance of a found family being built. Far too complex to try to get into during their first dinner together. So as far as Cam knew, maybe her life travelling around the country had been a fun childhood, even if she had never actually left California until she had turned 18. “Everyday was different, I’ll tell you that. Plus it led me here, where I spent the first few months freezing my ass day in and day out.” Cece pointed towards the closet near the front door, “Seriously, you should see all the winter coats I have in there. I used to wear those around the house.”

That night had been a happy coincidence, hadn’t it? If Cece and Winn had gone to any other bar they probably wouldn’t have met each other at all. Just one of a sea of faces the two would look by as they passed each other on the street everyone once and awhile. “Fate does work in mysterious ways, I guess.” Cece wasn’t big into the idea of fate. From what she had seen, if you didn’t take control of it yourself fate had a tendency to fuck you over. “Ah right, you are here after a shitty divorce, right?” Cece vaguely remembered the conversation from that night, though admittedly Winn’s stream of drinks that he was footing the bill for had kept her pretty tipsy the entire night. “From what I remember, he sounds like a real fuckboy. So good for you, girl. You deserve a lot better.”

Adults are harder to read than kids. Even if what a kid says is confusing their tone always gives them away, because they haven’t quite figured out how to change that yet. Cece laughs, and there’s an edge to it but Camille doesn’t know what that means- did she resent her parents for dragging her around the country when she’d have rather stayed in one place? Was it not fun for her? It’s really not her place to pry, of course. Big changes to your life were not always a good thing though, she understood that. “I suppose it must be cold, compared to Cali.” Cam grins ruefully, “I’m used to it. Boston isn’t quite as cold, but near enough.” And maybe she’d borrow one or two of those coats, just to mix up wearing the same outfits over and over again.

It was no small favor, putting a roof over her head and getting her out of that motel. Camille couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so nice for her- of course, bar telling her colleague what a terrible person Jace had actually turned out to be she couldn’t really remember telling anyone about her problems either, so maybe that was why. “Adam was a fuckboy.” Camille corrects, shaking her head and smiling a little at the memory of him- she was still shocked someone his age would even want to flirt with her, as put on as it was- “Jace was a nasty prick.” She has a sip of wine, like even saying his name makes her mouth feel bad. “So the divorce was great, it’s the marriage that was awful.” That’s half true, the divorce could have also been better, but murder isn’t exactly dinner conversation. “I mean I was dating that guy since high school, we were perfect. Seriously- that best couple superlative thing at prom? We won it.” When life was all fun and games, Jace had been the ideal partner. Charming, likeable, energetic. It was when he realized he couldn’t be the star of the football team his entire life that shit went downhill. “I don’t know what happened. Spent over a decade trying to make him happy, woke up one morning and realized I hated him.”

Camille wrinkles her nose, twirling more pasta around her fork and taking a bite before she talks again. “Sorry, don’t let me go on about it. It’s over, I’m good. New start.” She scrambles for a lighter topic, “so I know you work with Regan, but what is it that you actually do? Are you her assistant, or something?”

“It’s so fucking cold here, Cam. So. Fucking. Cold.” Even the summers had nothing on LA. Cece had been that annoying teen that spent all day on the bitch and only applied sunscreen once. Her skin wasn’t used to this lack of sunshine. It rebelled against her.

“Fair. At least Adam has a good attitude. I think he’s a himbo.” Cece nodded at herself, liking and accepting the comparison. Adam seemed like the type that respected women while wanting to bone them. Cece could respect that. This Jace dude on the other hand? Seemed like a dumpster fire personified. “Glad you had that epiphany. That freedom must feel so good after all these years. The offer still stands about fucking up his life. I love me a good revenge arch.”

Camille didn’t seem to love talking about it, and though Cece did figure she’d get the full story eventually, maybe that was a conversation for another day. Maybe after they had been roommates for a longer period of time than a few days. “Me? Regan’s assistant?” Cece rocked her head back and gave a single, loud laugh. “I couldn’t be her assistant. I’d get fired so quickly.” Cece worked for Regan, but her saving grace was that Cece did her own thing at work. “I’m a toxicologist for the medical examiner’s office. It sounds fancy, but I spend most of my day running tests on urine and blood and every other bodily fluid you can imagine. Glamorous stuff, I know.”

Camille chuckled, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t travelled much. Jace and I went to Flora for spring break in classic fashion, Clearwater.” Despite herself she grins a little at the memory- it had been a good time. “I imagine this place might make you feel like an icicle after spending your whole life somewhere with that kind of heat.”

She had never been much of a gossiper, at least not about herself. It was a habit cultivated since high school- top of your class with the star of the football team on your arm? Your life is perfect and you’re the envy of every other kid there. End of story. Don’t tell your friends about the big fight you and Jace had, or how you had to stay up studying until you passed out at your desk to get that high score on the history test. The whole damn reason she worked so hard was so that people never knew that stuff. It was a lot harder to present a perfect facade these days, as a divorced woman with a shitty job, but Cam would do what she could.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “A… Himbo? I don’t know what that is.” God, she was so old. She’d never had to say that before. But seriously, himbo? That wasn’t a word. Camille taught english lit! She knew all the words! Camille smirked at the offer, but shook her head. “There’s no one to pay his bills or get him beer out the fridge now, I think that’s probably gonna fuck him up enough.” That, and the fact that he was in jail for killing her. Rotten bastard. Couldn’t exactly tell Cece that, though.

Camille would admit to knowing next to nothing about science, but as an elementary school teacher she had seen the ways they tried to push young girls into softer interests, so she admired women like Regan and Cece who had pursued their passion regardless. “You have to follow what interests you.” She shrugged, “I could easily argue there’s nothing glamorous about teaching kids English lit but I loved it all the same.” It had been a good compromise; her desire to be an author and her love for children.

“There’s a certain charm in staying still, I think.” Cece admitted. Before she had been forced to leave, Cece had never had much interest in leaving LA. She liked California, liked the atmosphere and the people. Her first time leaving had been more out of necessity and the opportunity to have people help her. That had obviously gone to shit. “But I come from a place of privilege in that. I’ve been able to travel around to get to say that planting roots is better. You might think the opposite.” For what it was worth, besides the fact that her ex husband was a complete fuckwad, she didn’t seem disappointed by the memory.

“Ooh, I get to give you an english lesson? How the turns have tabled.” Cece perked up. It was cute, Cam not knowing what a himbo was. “A himbo is an evolved fuck boy. They’re still stupid, cute jocks. Muscles like a god, but a single brain cell bouncing around that empty skull.” Cece waved her finger around her head as an example, “But they’re actually good people. Himbos don’t fuck with misogyny or homophobia or racism. They mix respect women juice in with their protein shakes.” Cece interrupted her speech by stuffing pasta into her mouth. “Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.”

“Agreed. I can tell you’d be good with kids.” Camille kept a calmness about her, but had a quirkier side that Cece would have to work at pulling out. All in due time. “If you still love teaching so much, have you considered looking at the schools here? Seeing if there are any openings?”

Camille grinned and nodded- she’d had friends who’d taken off after highschool, figured out their way around the globe. Some of them came back changed with all these grand ideas and new goals for their life, others just rolled back into town with no money and no idea what to do next. She’d always figured it didn’t matter where you went, problems followed you anyway. “I always wanted to get settled somewhere myself, have a home and a family…” She trailed off sadly, unable to stop herself from remembering how hopeful she’d once been about it all. Buying that house and decorating with Jace, making plans to turn the spare room into a nursery one day. She shook herself out of the melancholy, taking a long sip from her wine glass. “I nearly went to New York for college, but decided on Boston instead.” Well, settled for. Because Jace got accepted there.

Really their elementary education programs were both wonderful, so it was fine.

She listened attentively as Cece explained the term, lips pulling up into an amused grin. “Oh, it’s a portmanteau!” Cam realized after a moment, “him and bimbo.” She nods, “I get it now. Strong and kind, but not the sharpest stick in the bunch. That’s a good one, I like it.” Had to be a term that the younger generation had coined, she wondered if Cece even realized how common of an english lit practice she’d adopted for her terminology. Cam smiles, “I’ve always liked kids.” Her good mood drops again, quickly, though. Working at a local school… Her identity, all her qualifications and achievements. They belonged to a dead woman, she couldn’t use them now. “It’s something I’ll look into, I think. When things are more settled for me.” She lied, “for the moment I just want to get used to a new town, focus on myself for a bit and what I really want for my future.” After pushing pasta around her plate for a minute Cam looks up, smiling. “What about your future? Is there a step up from a toxicologist, are you thinking about more qualifications? A PhD or something?”

Cece leaned back in her chair and tried to picture that for Camille. Cece herself had never much considered that sort of life for herself. Even back as a teenager, when her life was as normal as a girl growing up in LA could be, the idea of the white picket fence life had always been a bit too cookie cutter for Cece’s lifestyle. Now, Cece wasn’t sure she was cut out for it even if it was something she did want. Too much baggage, maybe. Or too little patience to deal with bullshit. Clearly, Camille had dealt with her fair share if she was no longer living the married life. “You’re still pretty damn young. No reason you shouldn’t be able to still have that. And this time we’ll make sure they’re not a giant bag of dicks disguised as a high school sweetheart.”

“A portman-who?” Cece questioned, eyebrow raising and a smirk crossing her lips. Cece wasn’t much for this shit, but loved Camille’s excitement about it. What an english teacher thing to do. “Yeah for sure. Let me know if I can help with anything. I have no connections to the school, but the two of us together? I bet we could charm the hell out of anyone we need.” Camille seemed to be over the conversation and promptly flipped it around back to Cece, questioning the career that Cece hadn’t given much thought to by herself. “Hmm… not where I am currently, not really. Working for a private company would probably get me more money. Or I could try to get in with the university. Write papers and teach some classes if I really wanted. I’m happy where I am though.” The idea of getting a doctorate was honestly hilarious to Cece and she couldn’t help the laugh building up before eventually bursting free, “God, no. Can you imagine? I couldn’t imagine expecting people to call me Doctor Bishop. I’m not pretentious enough.”

Camille had spent years working towards the next milestone. Graduate highschool, then college, then start the perfect life. Had it all fallen apart so spectacularly to send her a sign? Was she pushing so hard to get something she couldn’t have? There were people everywhere with happy families, and she’d put so much damn effort into having hers. Was the world mocking her? Rip it all away and send her back to square one, just to see if she does the same stupid stuff all over again.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d say sod the man and sod the family and just do whatever made her happy! If she could figure out what that was. Was it marriage and kids? Not right now. Honestly the idea of being alone in a house with a man was the last thing she wanted right now. But one day, probably. She giggled a little at Cece’s choice phrasing, “well, if I meet someone I think is charming I’ll make sure to have them screened by you just to be sure.”

“A portmanteau.” She repeated, “a blend of two words. Y’know, brunch, podcast, smog, himbo.” Cam’s glad she doesn’t mind the shift in conversation- she would like to know more about the schools here, and how she might go about getting work in them, but there was no point giving that sort of stuff any of her time until she had the essentials figured out. Would Cece know anyone who could get her an ID? Regan was staunchly against helping Camille with anything illegal, but hopefully her new friend wasn’t quite so rigid as that, and willing to keep a secret. “It’s not about pretention, it’s about qualification.” Camille argued, “a doctorate would open up a lot of opportunities, if you were interested. I don’t think it’s pretentious to value your education.” Cece was so young, and already trying to strike off paths for her future without really considering them. “If teaching ever did interest you I could offer some pointers. Though I’ve never taught a university class, my advice might be a little too juvenile.”

��I’ll happily screen any of your potential love interests. I have a rigorous testing regiment to ensure only the most worthy pass through. The others are sent away, broken of hearts and blue of balls.” Cece stated it wistfully as if she were writing it in some victorian style letter. She rested her face into the palms of her hands and stared in wonder at Camille as she defined and even provided examples of a portmanteau. “I love it when you talk literary devices to me. Very hot for teacher vibes.”

Camille seemed passionate about Cece keeping her options open for this higher education thing. Honestly, Cece had never considered a doctorate as a viable career path for her. Completing her degree while constantly travelling had been enough of a handful. Trying to deal with four more years of schooling just had not seemed possible. But Cece wasn’t a wanderer anymore. She had settled down in an area with a good job, better connections and a college close to her. It was certainly something to consider, even if it didn’t sound like much fun. “Okay mom. I’ll keep my options open.” Cece couldn’t see herself teaching younger students. Not for any specific reasons, just because her specific interests in toxicology tended to be more specialized than elementary, middle or even most high schools tended to offer. “Please, I guarantee your job was a hundred times harder than anything a college professor deals with. I’d take your advice over them anyday.”

Camille wasn’t even sure what dating was like these days. How did you meet people? There were all the apps, but that seemed so impersonal. Was she meant to go to a bar? The first and last person to sidle up to her at such a location was Adam and they’d already gone through why that was a bad idea- oh god, was White Crest like a college town? Was she even going to find any viable older men here? Must start paying more attention to the morning coffee crowd to find out. She chuckled and shook her head, “funnily enough I don’t think it’s the kind of come on that’s going to work in the real world. I’m gonna have to figure out some new moves.”

In highschool her move had just been walking right up to Jace by his locker one day and asking him if he wanted to ask her to the dance, and that had been that. Probably wasn’t the way to go about things as an adult. She sighed and stabbed her fork back into the pasta, “I’m just saying, you’re too young to be closing doors like that. You don’t have to do it right now obviously, but it might be something to consider later down the line.” Though teaching specifically was something Cam believed you should only get into if you were truly passionate about it- too many teachers did it for the wrong reasons and that was how you ended up with miserable classrooms. “Ah, true. I doubt many professors have had to explain to their students why they shouldn’t eat paper. I’d be happy to advise though, with further study and all that stuff, I do love a good excuse for a pros and cons list.” Plus helping with this kind of decision just felt like another way to balance the scales between the two of them, and Camille wanted the excuse to reminisce. She pushed her empty bowl to the side a little, “you’ll figure out what you want, anyway. You’ve got time.”

Time- how much did Camille have? What would Cece do if she found out the truth? What if someone from Boston found out, or her parents decided to visit White Crest for a weekend? “I think I’m gonna have another glass of wine.” She decided, pushing out of her chair to retrieve the bottle from the fridge, “do you want one?”

“I’ll be your wingwoman any night. Once you want to get back out there.” Cece wiggled her eyebrows, always encouraging a one night stand or two to blow off some steam. It hadn’t been Cece’s style lately, a bit of her party years getting more than enough attention while she was with the coven. But Camille had been with the same man for years, and he sounded like a bit of a prick. She could probably benefit from a few wild nights to get her mind off of things. And Cece would be a bad friend if she didn’t tag along to make sure everything went smoothly.

When Camille broke the conversation for wine, Cece was more than happy to oblige. There had been way too much talk about the future tonight. Cece was trying to live day to day here in town. Thinking about what the future could hold was way too depressing. “Please, if there’s one thing you should learn about me it’s that you never have to ask if I want more wine.” Cece laughed, downing the rest of her glass and sliding it over towards Camille for a refill. “If you remember that then you and I are going to be the best of friends.”

#wickedswriting #c: camille #chatzy: camille #omg they were roommates #we're just gonna pretend im not crazy late on posting thing

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softspiderling · 5 years

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swanky fortune - part eight | t.h.

Summary: of scheming roommates, a good dinner, and a night out with Tom

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Circles by Post Malone

Author’s Note: I’M SORRY PLS DON’T HATE ME. But the good news is, I’ve already started writing the next part, so.... Per usual, comments and feedback is appreciated and highly demanded. I missed these two dumbasses. ALSO I HAVE 1K followers now??? C R A Z Y!! Thanks to everyone I’m so grateful for you!!! Also I know I did a celebration recently, but if anyone wants another one, lmk!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

Word Count: a whooping 4,8k

Masterlist

It seemed like life just had one surprise after another in store for you.

Not even your wildest dreams could compete with the scenario that was taking place in front of you. Tom Holland standing in the middle of your kitchen and apparently cooking dinner for you.

“How did you get in my apartment?” You blurted out, before wincing.

“Sorry. I swear I’m really happy to see you.”

Tom gave you an exasperated look before he put down the spatula, leaning against the counter. He looked good. It was obvious to you that the time home was definitely something he had needed. The bags underneath his eyes weren’t completely gone yet, but they definitely were on their way of disappearing. His cheeks were pink, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat from the stove or if he was embarrassed.

“You really need to work on your people skills, Y/N,” he teased and you scoffed lightheartedly, stepping towards him to hug him tightly, inhaling his scent.

Has he always smelt this nice? Or was your judgement clouded by the endorphins your brain was pouring out at the mere sight of him? You weren’t sure.

“‘s good to see you too, love. Told ya I would make it up to you,” he mumbled in your hair, before pulling away, smiling down at you. Overcome with emotion, you turned away and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, while he puttered around the stove.

You watched him move around your kitchen and he looked oddly like he belonged here.

“But seriously, how did you get in my apartment?” You asked, tilting your head as you stood next to him. “I’m seriously questioning my safety right now.”

He laughed and shook his head, stirring the sauce before putting the lid back on the pot. “Your roommate let me in and gave me a key when she left.”

Your eyes widened. “Luisa gave you a key to our apartment?”

“Guess I’m just that trustworthy,” he shrugged with a grin and you rolled your eyes at him. You knew exactly why Luisa let him in and gave him a key on top of that. You also knew that she was probably not going to be back in the apartment until Tom had left. Damn that girl.

“I really need to teach her about stranger danger.”

“Hey!” Tom protested. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have been able to cook dinner for you.”

Your playful smile turned into a fond one. God, he was trying really hard to win you over. Ducking your head to hide your face, you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know that right?”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said lightly.

“How are you here anyway?” You asked, deflecting. “I thought you weren’t planning on doing anymore traveling until you have to get back to work.”

“I meant traveling for work. I also said I was looking forward to relax during my time off. And I’m doing that, here with you.” Tom pointed out.

“Did you not want to spend more time with your family?”

“I spent plenty of time with them,” he assured you. “Plus I was constantly talking about you anyway and they got tired of that, so I took the next plane here, I landed this morning. It’s not really a big deal, love.”

It was though. When was the last time someone had put so much work and effort in wanting to spend time with you? Not only did he take a flight to you, apparently he also went grocery shopping and cooked dinner for you.

“It’s a big deal to me Tom,” You said softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He turned away and you bit back a grin when his face turned pink.

Tom cleared his throat and turned the stove off, drumming with his fingers against the counter.

“So, food?”

After maneuvering the food onto plates that Tom deemed good enough for his pasta, you and him sat across from each other at the dining table.

As you were about to take the first bite, you noticed that he was staring at you more intently than usual.

“You didn’t poison this, did you?” You asked with squinted eyes, carefully inspecting the noodles on your fork and he rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of pasta, chewing obnoxiously.

“How are you being so melodramatic? I thought I was the actor out of the two of us.”

You grinned at him before finally putting the fork in your mouth, your eyes widening. “Oh my god.”

“It’s good, huh?”

“Good?” you asked, covering your full mouth with your hand. “This is amazing! Where’d you get this recipe?”

“It’s my mum’s. She used to cook this every year for my birthday lunch,” he told you and you smirked, swallowing your food.

“And you looked over her shoulder because you knew you’re going to have to cook it yourself some day?”

He shook his head, twirling the noodles on his fork. You could see the smugness basically oozing off of him and you rolled your eyes, already knowing that some sort of cocky comment was about to leave his mouth.

“I didn’t have to look over her shoulder, because I’m just that good of a cook,” Tom said and you snorted in your plate, barely disguising it as a cough. He narrowed his eyes at you, his fork pointing at you.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said innocently, smiling sweetly at him which he reciprocated with a flick on your arm. Yelping, you stuck your tongue at him and wagged your fork at him warningly before you returned your attention to your food that was getting colder the longer you were fooling around with Tom.

After you’ve both finished eating which took longer than usual because you kept picking on each other like little kids, you were standing side by side in the kitchen, him doing the dishes after having insisted on doing them.

“You’re a guest Tom, stop being unreasonable. I’m not going to let you do the dishes!”

“A self-invited guest.”

“A guest nonetheless!”

“Love, I literally made the mess, would you please let me clean it up?”

“You already cooked for me, can’t I pay you back by doing the dishes?”

“No. You can pay me back another way.”

“What way?”

“… Just move over so I can do the dishes, Y/N.”

You snapped the lid on the Tupperware filled with leftover food, placing them in the fridge for Luisa in case she ever came home again. Tom was drying his hands off on a kitchen towel when you turned back to him, raising an eyebrow at him. He returned your look with a raised brow, though his was way more untamed than you hoped yours was.

“So, what are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean ‘What are going to do now’?,” he asked with a snort, crossing his arms over his chest. “I cooked. It’s your job to take care of the entertainment.”

“You’re kidding, right? You literally invited yourself to my place without letting me know beforehand, and now you’re expecting me to entertain you?” you gave him a look and trudge into the living room, Tom hot on your tails with a grin on his face. You threw yourself unceremoniously on the couch and crossed your legs, leaning your chin in your hand.

“I have a few assignments and readings to do over the weekend,” you started and he frowned at you as he joined you on the couch, pursing his lips.

“Are you telling me you won’t have any time for me while I’m here?”

Suddenly he straightened his back and a look of uncertainty passed his face. He fiddled with his hands and you didn’t know what triggered it, but the atmosphere had suddenly shifted.

“Was this a mistake?” Tom wanted to know and red splotches started appearing on his neck. “I should’ve called beforehand, you must be really busy-“

“Tom,” you interrupted him with a small smile, taking his hand to calm him down, only continuing to speak when he looked at you. It was that moment when you realized that he was embarrassed by his actions and admittedly it was a bit straightforward and crazy, but it was still pretty sweet of him. You were also very glad that he took the first step, because if he hadn’t, you’d probably wouldn’t have seen each other in the near future.

“It’s just a few assignments, I’m not super busy,” you told him. “You should get some rest and lay down while I do, you must be really tired after today.”

His eyes went wide and he moved his hands to grasp you by your shoulders. “Wait a minute, you want to do your assignments now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Friday.”

“I know.”

“Friday evening, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I know, Tom. And?”

“Oh my god, you’re a nerd,” he laughed out, his head dropping as his shoulders shook with the vibrations. Puzzled and offended by his words, you furrowed your brows and shoved his hands off of your own shoulders as he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re a nerd,” you shot back and he wiped his eyes, giving you a thumbs up.

“Solid comeback, love, that hit me real hard.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him. “I am not a nerd.”

“You’re willingly doing readings and assignments on Friday evenings, I am pretty sure that’s the definition of nerd,” Tom pointed out, his laughter having subsided but the grin on his face was still wide.

God, he’s such a nuisance.

“I am not doing them willingly, but if I’ll do it now, it’s done and I don’t have to worry about it anymore on Sunday night. It’s called being responsible,” you explained to him, slightly annoyed as he watched you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what a nerd would say.”

Bristling, you shoved him playfully by the shoulders and got up to grab your laptop and your backpack to pull out your folder that held all your papers. Spreading your worksheets on the coffee table with Tom peering over your shoulders, you started piling the documents on different stacks.

“What do the different colors mean?” He wanted to know as he leaned over your left shoulder, his breath hot on your earlobe. You turned your head slightly and he was curiously eyeing your notes.

It was funny how interested he was in your assignments, considering how routinely they were for you.

“Pink means I need to ask for clarifications, green means it’s relevant for my exam and yellow means what I think is important.”

Tom let out a oooohhhh and tilted his head slightly, leaning forward to get a better look at the different worksheets.

“You don’t mind me doing my assignments now, do you?” You asked, glancing at him. “It’s not going to take long, I promise.”

“It’s fine, I can entertain myself, you do what you gotta do,” he told you and shot you a wink. Rolling your eyes at him, you opened your laptop to pull up the instructions from your professor and do your readings.

It was actually kind of nice working with Tom around. He was mostly quiet, there was the occasional snort while he laughed quietly about something on his phone, though it didn’t really bother you. You were working on an article about the gender pay gap when you noticed him staring at you.

You hadn’t really noticed him moving around that much, that was why you were so surprised to see him sitting opposite of you, leaning his elbows on the coffee table. One corner of his mouth was curled up, and you knew based on the smirk on his face that he was up to no good. Removing the highlighter cap from between your lips, you turned your full attention on him.

“What?”

The smirk on his face widened and you were slowly getting irritated, narrowing your eyebrows at him when he reached out to gently poke you on the forehead.

“You have a crease right here when you’re trying to concentrate,” he told you and you swatted his hands away, smoothing the crease in your forehead down.

“It’s not there because I’m trying to concentrate, it’s there because I’m annoyed because you’re staring at me.”

“I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes and you haven’t even noticed because you’re so engrossed in your article, so that’s a lie.”

“You know that’s really creepy right?” you asked with a sigh, starting to collect your notes and putting them away.

He shrugged lightly and fixed a stack of papers, handing them to you. “Couldn’t help myself, you looked really cute. And I’ve always had a thing for smart women.”

The blood rushed to your face and you turned away to stuff your folder back into your backpack, avoiding his gaze.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and he laughed, his finger tips dancing along your wrists. Goosebumps started spreading across your arms and your head snapped up to look at him, just to see that he was already watching you.

“How about you make me?” he suggested lightly, a brow ticking up. You flushed even brighter and got up, shoving your hand in his face.

“Get it together, Holland,” you huffed and he laughed at you, craning his head to follow your movements.

It was getting harder and harder to resist him, but you had promised yourself not to let yourself fall this quickly, you were trying to learn from your mistakes. But what if your ex-boyfriend had been the mistake last time, and not your feelings?

What if was a mistake to keep Tom at an arms distance (or at least that was what you were trying to do)? What if he was the right one and by distancing yourself, you were only pushing him away? The sight of his smile made you feel warm and at the same time, your head is telling you to cool it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered and offered Tom a hand to pull him up. He clasped his hand around yours and got up to his feet, nodding at your request.

“I could do drinks,” he said. “But I do need to change, though.”

Stretching your arms, you nodded. “Yeah me too. Uh, did you bring any clothes?”

Tom gave you a look. “No, I came here with the clothes on my body only.”

You grinned and grabbed your backpack, pointing to the bathroom in the hallway. “You can use the bathroom to change if you want to, I’ll just need a couple of minutes and then I’ll be right out.”

“Aye aye captain!” Tom saluted to you and you only shook your head with a snort while you headed to your room. Stuffing your backpack in the corner, you opened your clothes and pursed your lips while browsing through your racks, eventually settling on a red floral blouse, not wanting to change out of your jeans, too.

After having changed into the blouse, you sat in front of your mirror and refreshed your make up, while mentally going through all the bars that were nearby. Tom hadn’t specifically told you, but you were guessing that he wanted to keep a low profile and not draw too much attention, so you scratched off any bars, that were always packed. You had a few casual bars in mind and hoped one of them would work out, but it was Friday night and you’d never know what expected you.

You pouted your lips into the mirror before grabbing your purse on the way out of the living room, where Tom was shrugging his leather jacket on, a hat sitting on top of his head, his outfit looking rather dark.

“Hey,” he said, wearing a sheepish expression when you stepped closer to him. “Do you mind if we-“

Nodding quickly, you gave him a smile. “Yeah, we can do low-key, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” he sighed out, clearly relieved. “I just really need a break right now.”

You waved it off, understanding where he was coming from. “It’s fine, I totally get it. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” He jogged towards the front door and opened it, waving his hand dramatically with a bow. “After you my lady.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” you said teasingly and walked through the door, watching as Tom locked the front door with a pointed look in your direction.

With an eyeroll, you crossed your arms over your chest, letting yourself lean against the wall. “You’re aware that I’m not letting you keep that key, right?”

“Aw why not?”

He stuffed the key into the pocket of his jeans and looked up at you with a pout. You pushed yourself off the wall, an amused grin on your face.

“Because that’s literally the dumbest thing someone could do. I mean, you could rob me, or something,” you trailed off as the two of you walked out of the building.

Tom gave you an indignant look and you chuckled, shrugging unapologetically. “Anything is possible these days, Tom. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

Pushing the door open, you exited the building, the sun’s last beams shone through the trees, painting the sky in a soft orange. You inhaled deeply and quickly fell in step with Tom as you walked on the sidewalk.

“There’s a nice bar a few blocks from here, we can go there by foot if you don’t mind,” you suggested, pointing in the direction you were going.

“Walking is fine. I’ve been sitting on my ass enough today.”

You two settled into a comfortable silence, your arms swinging between you as you walked, your hands occasionally brushing. His pinkie brushed against the side of your palm and you knew that he was carefully testing out the waters. Oddly enough, you were glad that he did, letting his fingers grasping yours slowly, and you glanced at him with pink cheeks.

Tom smiled at you when a group of raucous college students walked towards you.

The moment he had so carefully worked for immediately broke between you and you quickly pulled your hand back, locking your hands nervously as you passed the group, with Tom ducking his head while you balled your hands.

Talk about mood killer.

“This is it,” you told him, gesturing towards the building on the other side of the street.

You crossed the road, passed the people who were having a smoke by the curb and pulled the door open. As you stepped into the bar and looked around you noticed that it was slightly busier than you expected it to be but not as packed as normal bars on a Friday night.

“Is this okay?”

You turned to Tom and same as you, he was scanning the bar before giving you a thumbs up. Looking around for a place to sit, you caught eye of Luisa waving frantically at you.

“Hey stranger, over here!”

With a grin, you nudged Tom and nodded towards where Luisa was sitting before walking to her table with raised eyebrows. Luisa was talking in hushed whispers to the rest of your friends before she turned back to you with a wide smile.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Luisa teased and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Oh ha ha, don’t act like I’m never around, I come out plenty.”

“No she doesn’t,” Maisie said to Tom, a shit eating grin on her face, similar to the grin her girlfriend was wearing. “You must be a real good influence on her.”

Tom laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m doing my best. But she actually was doing homework before she agreed to come out with me, so-“

With a glare, you bumped his side with yours.

“Stop or I won’t introduce you to my friends,” you warned him.

He raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his face portrayed the complete opposite.

Grinning, you shook your head fondly before you turned to the table. “Alright, so Tom this is Jessica, David, Henry, Max and Maisie, twins, by the way and you’ve already met my lovely roommate Luisa. Everyone, this is Tom. Be nice.”

Tom waved into the round and your friends all gave him friendly smiles. You bet all your money that Luisa had told them to keep their cool before you approached their table.

“Come on, sit down!”

Your friends scooted in the booth and you slid next Luisa, with Tom on your left.

While you gave Luisa a thankful hand squeeze, you noticed Tom was pressing his hands nervously on his legs, his eyes darting around.

“Hey,” you said, placing your hand on top of his like it was your second nature. His eyes snapped up to yours in surprise, while his fingers entangled with yours.

“You’ll be fine, stop being so nervous.”

Tom smiled sheepishly at you and squeezed your hand. “Sorry.”

Shooting him a quick smile, you held his hand for a while longer before pulling away, noticing the look Luisa was giving you.

“Shut up,” you muttered and grabbed one of the beers Maisie poured out for you and Tom. While you kept your hand wrapped around the cold glass, he raised his with a quick “Cheers.”

The conversation at the table briefly stocked, but when Jessica mentioned the new restaurant that was opening around the corner, everyone was quick to state their opinion. And even though Tom wasn’t necessarily actively involved in the conversation, he was content to sit back and watch you interact with your friends.

“Sorry if I am being too forward,” one of the guys, Tom wasn’t too sure, but his name might be Max, suddenly spoke up, his eyes on Tom.

“But I really liked Far From Home. You did a great job.”

Tom beamed at that compliment and ducked his head, ever the humble person that he was.

“Aw, thanks man. I really hoped that people would like it, and I’m really proud of the movie,” he said, while your friends were glued to his lips. “The pressure on the movie being the last of Marvel’s Phase Three really made me nervous, but yeah. I’m glad it all worked out in the end.”

“So when’s the next movie coming out?” Maisie asked and Tom chuckled, shaking his head quickly.

“Fuck if I know. But I couldn’t even tell you if I wanted to, they would kill me.”

Your friends laughed and you laughed with them, a soft look on your face as you traced the water drops from the condensation on your glass.

Tom’s cheeks were pink, secretly pleased that he made your friends laugh, but even though he really wanted your friends to like him, all his attention was on you. He always wanted to see you happy and laughing and it was weird, because he hasn’t even known you for that long to value your happiness so much.

Back at home, he tried to focus on his family and friends, enjoy his time off and just spend it bumming around, but he was constantly thinking about you and wondering what you were currently up to. You were just so easy to be around and something about you made him want more. And Tom knew that you wanted more, too. But something was clearly holding you back and that was okay.

He was in no rush.

“So Tom, where are you staying?” Luisa asked, casually playing with the pretzel in her fingers. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that you turned up on our doorstep with your bags in hand.”

“Yeah, our doorstep which you gave him the keys to, Lu,” you interjected and your friends snickered as Luisa patted your arm consolingly, while Tom watched you, way too amused by the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Judged by the reactions from the rest of your friends, this bickering was routine for Luisa and you.

“It was to do you a favor, Y/N. Are you seriously trying to tell me that you weren’t happy to see him?”

“Whatever,” you grumbled and Luisa winked at Tom, before waving her hand at him. “So? Where are you staying?”

“Uh, I booked a hotel room. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to overextend my stay.” Tom said quickly but Luisa shook her head.

“Oh please, you should come and stay with us!”

“He should?” you asked, spluttering. “Do you expect him to sleep on the couch?”

“No,” Maisie grinned, leaning forward to bring your attention on her. “Luisa can spend the nights at my place as long as Tom is staying here.”

You eyed her skeptically. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with my girlfriend spending the night?”

“I was talking to Max,” you pointed out and Max shrugged with his shoulders before nodding. “Yeah, it’s fine. I can put on headphones.”

You snorted and shook your head before turning to Tom who was making himself small.

“I can spend the night at the hotel,” he offered. “If you don’t feel comfortable-“

“No, you should stay with me,” you said with a final tone and he smiled softly at you.

“Okay.”

As the night progressed and the beers were poured, you found yourself enjoying yourself a lot, and that Tom was getting along so well with your friends made it even better. There were a few fans who approached the table and asked for a picture with Tom which he politely declined, but otherwise it was good night.

It was nearing one am in the morning when you got up, after noticing Tom has yawned three times in a row.

“Alright guys, we’re calling it a night. I have to get this guy in his bed or I’ll end up carrying him all the way back,” you said and he frowned.

“You couldn’t take me, darling. I’m too buff.” He said, flexing his biceps and you pushed his arms away.

“Get out of here,” you laughed, while Jessica fanned herself.

“Such a dreamboat. If you’re not taking him Y/N, I will!”

“Bye guys,” you grinned and Tom waved his hands before the two of you exited the bar, slightly intoxicated from all the beers you’ve been drinking, but not too much that it was clouding your judgement.

Though the chilly air from outside was welcoming after having spent the past couple of hours in a stuffy bar, it still made you shiver a bit and you crossed your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“You cold?” Tom asked, already slipping out of his jacket to drape it over your shoulders. You pushed your arms through the sleeves and shot him a grateful smile.

“Thanks Tom.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and your fingers were clutching the sleeve of his leather jacket as you walked.

“I am really glad that you hit it off with my friends,” you then said and he glanced at you with a smile.

“Me too. They’re super fun,” he chuckled. “It’s refreshing to be around people who are in a completely different industry than I am. It can get kind of boring talking to actors and actresses all the time.”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “Must be really boring to work with Robert Downey Jr and Zendaya, I pity you.”

Tom huffed and bumped your shoulder with his. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

You laughed cheekily at him, stopping in front of the building of your apartment, looking expectantly at Tom.

“What? Luisa didn’t give you the key to the apartment building, too?”

“You know you’d look pretty dumb now if she would have,” he pointed out while you unlocked the door, the grin on your face wide. You weren’t sure if you were ever able to stop smiling again.

“I know I would have. Lucky me, right?” You said over your shoulder as you walked up the stairs.

“You know something else?”

“What?”

You turned around to him when you stopped in front of your apartment door, looking at him with expectant eyes.

“That jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he told you, running his hands down your arms.

You snorted, while he looked down at you with a soft look on his face, his hands settling on your waist.

“Are you telling me I can keep the jacket?”

Tom shrugged, the tip of his shoes clanking against yours as he stepped closer. “You should. I am not lying, darling.”

Blushing, you wrinkled your nose at him. “I’d rather have a new one.”

The corners of his lips pulled up and his grip on your waist tightened.

“You’re really something else Y/N,” he mumbled and you could count the freckles on his face when he leaned in.

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livefreeordie13 · 4 years

Text

Homemade

i wrote a really small, slice-of-life thingy for my friend @skye-maxwell because she is just a very sweet gal

here’s a link to the AO3 post but i also decided to post the whole thing here under a cut since there isn’t much to it.

i hope you all enjoy!

Homemade

It was a Tuesday night, and Yosuke was pleasantly surprised to find out as he came home that evening that Souji was making beef stew. Their entire apartment smelled like the thick, savory roux Souji had long ago mastered, and it welcomed him as he stepped inside, still shivering from the wind and damp of winter. The promised warmth of the stew, the softly roasted veggies and tender beef — it made Yosuke grateful, for a change, for the bitter freeze of January. He could really use the comfort, too, after a full day of work and class.

Even dead-tired, he’d offered to help Souji prepare dinner. But Souji had, as usual, politely declined. Yosuke had pouted and plopped his head into the crook of Souji’s shoulder and neck as his partner stood by the stove, stirring their dinner, but it hadn’t worked. His partner had turned and given him a particular look, familiar in its impassivity, that dissipated Yosuke’s urge to pout anymore.

So, Yosuke had started a load of towels in the washer instead and, trying his very best to avoid another stern glare from the kitchen, was now sprawled on the couch playing with a piece of his own hair as he stared blankly at the game show that always preceded the nightly news.

Like a good boy, he’d changed into his warm sweatpants and hoodie as soon as he’d been kicked out of the kitchen. A pair of Souji’s extra-thick thermal socks resting atop the neatly folded pile of laundry on the bed had been a natural addition to his loungewear. Yosuke had long ago stopped feeling guilty about stealing those comfortable socks since Souji hardly ever wore them. They were perfect in this kind of weather, too.

He had almost dozed off when he heard his name from the kitchen — Souji, telling him that dinner was ready. He sat up at once, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he listened to the clink of spoons in bowls and the sound of his partner’s socked feet padding across the laminate tile of their kitchen and over the jute rug that was starting to show its wear.

Souji handed him his bowl and Yosuke took it with a small but grateful smile, scooting over a bit so that he wasn’t taking up all of the sofa. He held his steaming bowl in one hand and with the other, grabbed the nearby blanket and began covering both their laps. Souji raised his arms to welcome the shield from the small apartment’s chill, which persisted despite their space heater running at High.

Yosuke was hoping that the stew would also warm them up. It felt nice merely holding the bowl, which was a comforting weight in his palms. It made his skin prickle and his stomach rumble in anticipation. The wafting scent of the stew’s spices told Yosuke everything he needed to know about how good it would taste.

Yosuke stirred the broth with his spoon, bringing the lumps of potatoes and beef and bits of carrot to the surface. The thin trails of steam immediately swelled into bigger ones, carrying heavy the stew’s scent and making Yosuke’s stomach that much crankier. He got a good spoonful and took his first, tentative taste. Exactly as expected: rich, meaty, and a sublime mix of savory with a hint of sweetness. Everything about it was perfect.

Souji really put everything he had into his dishes, even though he only ever cooked for just the two of them. On a busy weeknight, no less. Souji only had one day off every week, but he still found the time to make sure they had something good to eat at dinner. Souji would probably say it was because their breakfasts and lunches were usually left to fate in whether they had them or not, and Yosuke supposed he would have been right.

But Yosuke also knew that Souji just . . . liked this. Cooking for them. Making something that both of them could enjoy alone.

It didn’t matter — never did — that it was just a Tuesday.

Yosuke looked past his bowl, down at the blanket they were sharing (that they usually shared). His eyes followed the patterned stretch of wool over to Souji’s side, where they trailed up his waist, past his own bowl of stew, over his slightly exposed collarbone peeking above the neck of his long-sleeve tee, and finally, to his face — chewing on a bite of stew.

His cheeks were lit by the faint blue glow from the television, and his pale eyes shone in its reflection. He was clean-shaven and that always made his smooth cheeks appear more boyish than normal, even with his signature focus on the news story keeping his eyes properly trained on the screen. Yosuke had no idea what the news segment was even talking about, but he watched Souji’s jaw slow in the middle of a bite as something in the story grabbed more of his attention.

He had absolutely no idea how handsome he was, Yosuke realized, just eating stew in front of the evening news after a night of cooking over a hot stove. The snow outside fell and the sounds of traffic could be heard from their balcony window. The news droned on. Someone in the hallway slammed their front door. And Yosuke was still sitting there, studying the faint signs of maturity on Souji’s face, feeling lucky that he got to see them up close like this. That he got to see them at all.

Yosuke thought about kissing him, suddenly, like he’d never kissed him before, and the urge to do so nearly overwhelmed him until the weight of the soup bowl in his hands resurfaced to the front of his mind.

The spoon shifted along the lip of the bowl and he quickly grabbed it. The sound must have been a bit too loud, because a moment later he heard Souji’s voice over to his right.

“You okay?” he asked, with a slight smack of his lips as he chewed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yosuke chuckled apologetically. He stirred his stew some more and then lifted another hefty bite to his lips, suddenly remembering how hungry he’d been moments ago. Thankfully, it was still piping hot. “Dinner’s amazing, by the way,” he said, once he’d swallowed. “I love it when you make beef stew.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Yosuke could hear the pleased air in Souji’s voice, and nodded enthusiastically, going in for another bite.

“It took me a while to find a recipe I liked . . . even longer for me to master it. I like it a lot, too,” he admitted, with a hint of pride.

“Honestly, partner,” Yosuke continued, his mouth full this time, “you haven’t made anything I don’t love.” He hummed over his bowl appreciatively. “But the beef stew, the beef stew,” he cried, scooping another bite onto his spoon before he’d finished that one.

Souji laughed. “Glad you like it so much.”

“I do,” Yosuke said, his chest expanding with warmth. “I really love it.”

They continued eating in companionable silence, with the soft sound of the TV in the background resuming its broadcast, as if the funny yet wonderful feeling fluttering around in Yosuke’s heart didn’t exist.

When they were finished, Yosuke brought both their bowls to the kitchen sink. Souji often washed dishes as he cooked, so there was never much for Yosuke to do by way of cleaning. He took care of their bowls and spoons and set them out to dry on the rack, then checked on the pot of leftover stew sitting on the holder. It was still too warm to put away; it probably needed to sit out another half-hour or so. He wiped down the counters and put away the spare ingredients Souji missed and headed back into the living space, towards the familiar lump of his partner on the end of the sofa.

The news had transitioned into the sports segment, a topic neither of them really cared about unless it was a national tournament of some kind. As Yosuke took his seat, Souji flipped channels until it landed on another program — an action movie that both of them had seen before and wasn’t as good as The Dumminator series, but a good watch nonetheless. It would do for a Tuesday night.

Yosuke curled up beneath the blanket again and tucked himself a bit closer to Souji than he normally might have. It was cold, after all.

And, of course, he did love Souji.

Souji gave Yosuke a curious yet pleased smile and nudged a little closer, as well. Their shoulders pressed together, and Yosuke laid one of his legs atop Souji’s knees which were tucked to the side and jutting into Yosuke’s personal space. Sitting like this, Souji’s face was just close enough to kiss. So, Yosuke did just that.

“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbled against Souji’s lips.

“Thanks for picking up,” Souji replied, and followed that up with another small kiss.

Their mouths carried the tang of the beef and spice of the stew — and like the stew, Yosuke savored it.

#work #souyo #yosuke hanamura #yu narukami #souji seta #homemade #fluff #fanfic

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bookscoffeeandracoons · 4 years

Text

The Birthday Cake

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Wordcount: 1630

Warnings: some cursing and just fluff

A/N: This is for @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Happy Birthday, sweets! I hope you’re having a wonderful day! This is just a little pressie but I really hope you enjoy it! ❤

To everyone reading this; comments and/or reblogs would be greatly appreciated! I’m not a regular fic writer so I hope this turned out well 😊

This wasn’t beta read so all mistakes are my own.

With a bright smile and your hands full of bags - that contained some things you had still needed for your birthday party and a little treat in form of a new outfit for later - you were making your way home.

You had been to the hairstylist for some new colour and a new haircut. So you had used the opportunity of being in the business area to do some shopping.

You bought some decorative items and had enough time to go and buy a pretty top, some new perfectly fitting pants, and new heels.

You had wanted those heels quite a while but they were a little expensive. Today you had thought “So what? It’s my birthday!” and had just bought them. You had to treat yourself good on your birthday, right?

You had felt amazing when trying on the new outfit and couldn’t wait to wear it later. You also had a feeling that your boyfriend would like it just as much as you did. After all it complimented you just perfectly and with your new freshly styled hair you felt like a fresh morning. Ready to start a new year of your life.

As you reached your home you started to fish around for your keys in your handbag. The shopping bags were rustling and the keys were jingling in your handbag but you could have sworn that you had heard something that sounded very much like your boyfriend cursing behind your door. Your smile faltered for a second as you wondered what the hell was going on inside. The keys finally found their way into your hand and you quickly unlocked the door and walked in.

“Shit, shit, shit”, you heard the deep voice coming from the kitchen as the biting smell of smoke hit your nose.

You dropped the bags and rushed to the kitchen. The first thing you noticed was the thick grey smoke and then you saw the glinting metal of Bucky’s arm. With a kitchen towel in hand he was trying to do his best impression of a fan to get the smoke out of the wide open window.

“Bucky?” you asked to get his attention. He whirled around to you, his supersoldier senses apparently caught up with whatever was going on here before you arrived.

“Hey doll,” he said in between two coughs.

“What happened?” you asked while you stepped further into the smoke to start the kitchen hood. Maybe that would help to get the thick grey clouds out of the room.

“Errrm”, he looked around as if he would find the answers somewhere in the room.

“I maybe tried to bake you a birthday cake”, he admitted with an almost shy smile. You took a closer look at him.

His black t-shirt was dusted with the white powdery leftovers of flour and on his left arm was some dried cake dough. The dark stubble on his cheeks also looked like it was suddenly turning white. And on his grey sweatpants were some blurred handprints that obviously were made of flour and cocoa powder.

With the slightly embarrassed expression on his face and the kitchen towel that whirled around him he looked adorable. But it was still too funny to see the super skilled, absolutely lethal and ridiculously attractive Avenger defeated by the attempt to bake a cake. You just had to laugh.

In the time that you had been dating Bucky he had made you breakfast and even dinner. He was a great cook and enjoyed trying out new recipes together with you. Somehow you had never baked together, though. You hadn’t thought about that until now but with him standing in the middle of the smoke, all messed up, and the smell of burned cake filling your home you thought that maybe this was the one thing Bucky Barnes hadn’t mastered yet.

“So what exactly went wrong?” you wanted to know. Still somehow laughing although the smoke started to burn in your throat.

“I’m not quite sure”, he shrugged his right shoulder, while still spinning the kitchen towel around in his left hand. “I’m sorry, doll. I wanted to surprise you with something sweet and not with a smelly kitchen.”

He looked as if he was mad at himself. His brows were drawn together and his mouth was a tight line.

“It’s alright, Buck!” you smiled at him while stepping right in front of him and wiping the flour from his cheeks. “I already baked a cake. It’s sitting in my mum’s fridge. I’ll pick it up later.”

Somehow he didn’t look satisfied with your answer.

“I know, but this one was supposed to be just for the two of us”, he now wrapped his right arm around you and pulled you closer. “I thought we maybe take some time for us before your party tonight. It’s only midday, there would have been plenty of time to get comfy on the sofa and just enjoy ourselves with a nice piece of cake.”

He leaned down and nudged your nose with his. You tilted your head up and gave him a light kiss before answering.

“That was a great idea and thank you” you kissed him again before looking up into his beautiful pale eyes that still seemed to be disappointed. “Maybe we could still just spend some time before the party? Watch a movie or just cuddle up on the sofa?” you offered. Even though he wasn’t particularly happy about his work you were still amused and a little more in love with him than you had anyway already been. If that was even possible.

But how many women could say they had a man like Bucky Barnes, who also tried to bake them a cake? Who also looked so adorable while failing at the task?

“Whatever you want, doll”, was his soft reply. “What if I take you out for lunch instead? I just have to clean the kitchen and myself up.” He pointed at the mess on the counter, that you hadn’t paid any attention yet. Among all the bowls and the cake pans with the black coal, that once could have been a cake, sat a big bowl with something in it, which suspiciously looked like chocolate frosting.

“What’s that?” you indicated at that one filled bowl.

“That’s the frosting. I think that turned out alright but as the cake is lost I’ll just throw it away along with the rest.” He sighed and picked up the baking pan. “I also have to get you a new one of these. This thing has been through some shit that can’t be undone anymore.”

You had to laugh again. That baking pan was really lost. Somehow it seemed to have burned edges itself. You had no idea how that could even happen.

You stopped laughing as you realised that Bucky wanted to throw away perfectly fine frosting. Stepping away from him you went to the counter and dipped your finger into the creamy chocolate goodness to try it. As soon as the frosting touched your tongue you sighed in bliss. This frosting came right out of some chocolate wonderland.

“You’re not throwing this away, Bucky”, you said sternly.

“Why? We don’t have anything to put it on”, he argued.

“Just give me a spoon. This frosting is heavenly and doesn’t need a cake.” You were already picking up the bowl to make your way to the living room with it.

Now Bucky was laughing. He dropped the kitchen towel, the air anyway was much clearer by now, and stepped into your path.

“I maybe have a better idea than the spoon”, he winked at you.

“And what idea would that be?” you wanted to know.

“Why don’t you just hold on to that bowl?” was his only answer as he swiftly picked you up. With a squeal you clutched the bowl and Bucky just chuckled.

With your legs in his left arm and his right one wrapped tightly around your back he carried you out of the kitchen and brought you to the sofa.

Just before he dropped you he looked at you as if he just noticed something.

“Is that a new hairstyle?”

“Yep, it is”, you nodded happily. He smiled and just looked at you.

“I like it. It suits you, doll.” Right after he had complimented you a small frown crawled back into his handsome face. You were just starting to worry if he didn’t like something when he spoke again.

“That means I shouldn’t mess it up, right?” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“If possible, that would be good”, you smiled back.

He put you down on the sofa and before you knew what was going on Bucky dipped his right index finger into the bowl and dappled a chocolaty dollop of frosting onto your nose. For a second you had no idea how to react but as you looked at his cheeky smile you just had laugh again.

“Why did you put it on my nose?”

“Because I thought it would look cute,” he answered simply. “Don’t worry I’m planning to clean you up again”, he grinned.

“But I think I still owe you a little something for your birthday and I’ll do my best to not mess up your hair”, his voice had suddenly become a little darker and you noticed the heat rising in your cheeks while a giggle escaped from your lips.

Bucky leaned down to you and kissed the dollop of frosting off of your nose. While another laugh washed over you Bucky put the bowl away and leaned down again.

Right before his lips touched yours he whispered and you could feel his warm chocolaty breath on your mouth.

“Happy Birthday, doll.”

_____________

Thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed it!

#happy birthday @nerdy-bookworm-1998 #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #i wrote something #my work

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maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

Sugar (3/?)

AN: Here is my third chapter of my SugardaddyLoki AU:) I hope you like the Chapter for this week :)

Warnings: not really

Wordcount: around 1600

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 2

You had decided to bake some chocolate-apple-pie after your grandmothers recipe together with some Pasta and self made tomato-sauce, hoping the male would like the food.

The apartment had started to smell delicious, yourself nibbling on some bread Pietro had brought with him from his grocery shopping.

He had mentioned that Mr Laufeyson usually did not eat breakfast at the flat, but got something on his way. So you had needed to get your breakfast supplies, or your mornings would be hungry.

At least he had tea. A lot of tea and a lot of different kinds.

Now, the kitchen was stocked with every essential thing someone would need.

Food was finished around dinner time and you were just cleaning the kitchen of any evidence of your session, when the front-door opened.

You froze in anticipation and worry.

“Food is already here. Good. Please serve while I change into something different.”, the male called and not a second later you heard another door close.

Doing as asked, you plated your home-cooked meal and placed a dish where he had sat the day prior, you sitting down with your own serving in the same manor.

It did not take long for him to emerge again and join you at the large table.

“This looks quite good. Now it only has to taste as such.”, he mumbled, eyeing the food in front of him before taking a small bite.

You waited, anxious, for his reaction and could not suppress a smile when you saw him relax into the food.

He liked it.

“This – this is good. Where did you get it? I have to put it on Pietro´s list of shops to buy from.”, he asked you, already preparing the next bite.

“I made it.”, you whispered, awaiting his reaction.

You were not disappointed: His shewing stopped, his eyes wandering to look at you. He gulped the food he had in his mouth.

“You are telling me, that you cooked this meal yourself? How and Why?”

“I spoke with Pietro and he offered to get the ingredients, what he did. I found the utensils in the cupboards.”

“Well, that explains how, but not why.”

“I, I didn´t know what to get, and I like to cook. It is also cheaper-”, the last part was only a whisper, but he still heard it.

“I don´t think I need to have an eye on how much money I spend for food and take-outs.”

“I apologize Mr Laufeyson.”, you quickly added, averting your eyes.

“It is quite delicious.”, he continued, “Well done.”

Warmth spread through your veins upon hearing the males praise and you couldn´t suppress a shy smile.

“You may cook more often. Now, if you would excuse me, I have an early meeting tomorrow and therefore will go to bed now.”, he declared, already standing up.

“I- there is dessert.”, you quickly stated, “I mean- if you want. I can but it in the fridge. The pie might not taste as good as now, but still good.”

“You made pie?”, he mused, sitting down again, “What kind of pie.”

“Apple chocolate after my grandma´s recipe.”, you whispered.

He stayed silent and you took it as a sign to serve the desert. Gathering the used dishes, you placed them aside and got the pie out of the oven to plate it with some powdered sugar.

Mr Laufeyson looked at for a few second, before taking a very small piece onto his fork and eating it.

His face kept neutral, though he ate it all.

“As I said. I will be retreating for the night. Tomorrow morning the cleaning service will come to clean the apartment. Just as a heads-up. Have a good night.”

And with that, the man retreated to his quarters.

Well, better get the kitchen cleaned and then to bed.

Thanks to the fact that you had already cleaned most of the things after using them, the kitchen was spotless within ten minutes with the leftovers secured within the fridge. Labeled with the date you had cooked them.

It was nearly enough to feed one more person.

Shutting off the light, within the main area, you stepped into your bedroom, only to stop short; on your bed were four black boxes with silver ribbons.

Presents.

When did he get them in here? What is in there?

Slowly you approached your bed, letting your fingers brush over the soft fabric of the ribbons, once you were able to.

The boxes had the Ásgard´-logo imprinted into the top.

More clothes? But-

With gentle hands, you opened the first bow and then box.

Is that Lingerie? What does this mean?

Shocked, you lifted the first pair of clothes out of the box. It wasn´t lingerie as you first thought, it was a nightdress.

Does he expect me to wear this?

Quickly you opened the other boxes as well, and the next two contained a similar kind of clothing.

That was, until you opened the last box and a relieved sigh escaped your lungs. Your eyes fell onto some new shirts and boxer-shorts. First were made of extremely soft cotton, last were made of silk.

You just had to wear them, the leggings and shirt you had worn previously had been to warm for your liking and felt wrong to your skin beneath the covers.

Ready for bed, you placed the boxes into the walk-in. You would sort them away in the morning.

With your mobile phone charging and the alarm set for 6:30am, you closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke up with the alarm and decided it was a good day to start with a shower.

Dressed as casually as possible, you made your way to the kitchen area with still wet hair.

You were surprised to see Mr Laufeyson already sitting there. “Good morning.”, you mumbled.

“Good Morning. I did not thought I would see you this early.”, he greeted you in return, sipping on his tea.

“I am used to get up early to do work.”, you admitted, preparing your own breakfast with the stuff Pietro got you the day prior.

“I see. Pietro will drive me to work this morning. I have a conference call with some important people. After that he can drive you wherever you want. There is a credit card on the little table next to your door. It has an allowance of 10.000$ a week. I may allow you to use more, should I see it necessary and you ask me beforehand. You need to have your ID with you though. Otherwise the card will not be accepted.”

He spoke almost bored, like that sum of money were just peanuts.

“Ten-thousand a week?”,you stated with huge eyes.

“Not enough?”

“Too much. Tha- thats more than I made in four months working. Wha- what should I do with that much?”, you quickly explained.

“Buy what you want, as long as you don´t buy at the opponents shops. The cleaning crew will be working from 10 to 12am. See you sometime today.”, and with that, the sharp dressed man left.

Leaving you with no idea what you should do with your day.

Sighting, you grabbed the offered card and stared at it for a long time.

I could visit Bob and Monty, maybe get them some food or things they need. And then buy stuff for the shelter. At least I would do good with all this money.

You still did not want pity money and felt dirty accepting it.

Using your new phone (because you couldn´t find a pen and some paper to make notes), you wrote stuff you though you should get to not accidentally forget something.

It got rather long, and you hoped you would be able to get all this without renting a truck.

“And I need some reeeeeaally simple stuff to wear.”, you mumbled.

The ringing of your phone caught your attention. Pietro was calling you.

“Good Morning. How can I help you?”, you greeted him politely, just like you had done with your customers just a few days ago.

“(y/n), It´s Pietro. Boss said to call you once I am free. Soooo, I am free. Any idea what you want to do? I can drive you wherever you want.”, the young man´s voice came out of the speaker.

“Thank you, that would be nice. I have a few stops I would like to make- if that is not too much trouble.”, you smiled into the phone.

“Not at all, I would just be earning my money. I will be at the tower in the next ten minutes. If you want, you can wait in the lobby. I will come and get you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No worries. See you in Ten.”, and with that the line went dead.

“Well .. then let´s get down there I guess.”, you mumbled, grabbing your phone and wallet, you got on your way down to the lobby.

It was rustling with live and you searched for a calmer area to wait for the blond young men.

You felt out of place and feared they would kick you out any second now, but instead, your phone rang again and you accepted Pietro´s call.

“I am up front. Are you ready to go?”

“I am coming out, give me a second.”

“Sure, it´s the black Dodge SUV.”

“Got it.”

Part 4

AN2.0 Well, Loki seemed to like her food. What do you think she will do with all the money?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated, though any request of a SUGARDADDY looking for a Baby will be deleted… just like the last 30 in the first two parts…..

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666 @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea @alexakeyloveloki

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

#sugardaddy!loki #sugardaddy Loki x Reader #reader #sugardaddy au #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #MCU #Marvel #Reader insert

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omnomwithrob · 3 years

Text

Taylor made.

One of the best parts of every new year is the chance to celebrate our good friend Taylor, whose birthday is on January 3rd. Taylor is an amazing cook and baker and has an uncanny discernment for the best sources for recipes, not to mention adventurous taste. I wanted to make something special for her, so I dared to crack open my new copy of Christina Tosi’s Milk Bar cookbook and search for something corrective after the wreckage that was Rob’s birthday cake. I decided on Chef Tosi’s pistachio layer cake, and it started with some pistachio paste I made the night before.

The way the components of the recipes in this book are organized is really hard to follow, and I was flustered to find that there was no recipe for making pistachio paste. So I had to track down my own recipe online (I can’t remember what I must have used), but it was essentially just a pistachio nut butter. It was an unsightly color, but it was tasty.

Also on the night before serving, I made the “milk crumb,” which seems like a signature item on a lot of Chef Tosi’s cakes. You basically make a crumble with the milk powder, butter, flour, cornstarch, sugar, and salt, and then you coat the crumble in white chocolate.

The next day, I made the cake itself. It was pretty simple since I’d already made the pistachio paste, and I had to use grapeseed oil instead of pistachio oil. (Because where does one find that?) I did manage to remedy one of the significant flaws from our attempt at Rob’s birthday cake, as I actually used the proper size of baking pan (1/4 sheet rather than 1/2 sheet).

You’re supposed to cut the cake into three rounds, which made for an extremely tiny cake. This bothers me a little, but Taylor happens to adore tiny things, so it all worked out.

Amid the layers of pistachio cake are smears of lemon curd and sprinkles of the milk crumbs. After that, the recipe calls for you to add a layer of pistachio frosting before stacking on the next cake. Here is the “before” photo, as I wondered how the heck I was supposed to frost something that was both gooey and crumbly??

I gave it my best shot but quickly ran into my next problem: I suffer from lack of acetate in my house. Frankly, I will just need to get some if I plan to make any more of Chef Tosi’s cakes. So as I built the layers, I did my best to contain the stack in a very large and very unprofessional crinkle of aluminum foil.

It was around this time when I truly wondered if I could serve this to a friend. 12 hours in the freezer would tell!

After cutting out the cake rounds, I had tons of scraps - plus plenty of leftover lemon curd, pistachio frosting, and milk crumbs - so I filled a cupcake tin with the rest. I let them be ugly as I struggled to get the textures to layer on nicely on top of each other

That night, Taylor and (her now husband!!!) Garrett came over for dinner (see bottle of chili crisp in the background for probably the best indicator that we have dined with them). It was the moment of truth as I peeled back the aluminum foil and found that while it in no way resembles any cake you would see in the Milk Bar window, it didn’t look like a total wreck!

It was a very rich cake, what with all of the nuts, butter, and nut butter involved - the acidity of the lemon curd did help to cut the richness, but curd by virtue is also buttery and rich, so it was all so very indulgent. That said, pistachio, lemon, and white chocolate are a great flavor combination, and we enjoyed a few slices along with some nice bitter cocktails to balance it out.

As tricky as I am finding Chef Tosi’s recipes to be for a minimally skilled home baker like myself, I did appreciate that it felt like I was improving! I maintain that the key to success with this cookbook is to do a lot of mental prep in advance, not only with sourcing the sometimes hard-to-find ingredients but also really mapping out the course a few times in your head before getting started. And if you’re like me, expect that it won’t go perfectly and that the recipient of the cake is so spectacular that they are 100% deserving of a big effort. That was true of Rob, and it is true of Taylor. Happy birthday, dear friend!

Caroline

P.S. In honor of today being Martin Luther King Jr. Day, please consider buying your cookbooks from Semicolon Bookstore, a Black woman-owned, local bookstore here in Chicago. They have an Amazon-esque selection in their online store, and they also do some amazing fundraising for Chicago Public Schools. I hope you’ll check it out and buy/donate if you can!

#Rob Bratney #food blog #Chicago #Illinois #Logan Square #Milk Bar #Milk Bar Cookbook

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freedom-shamrock · 5 years

Text

Chat Noir’s Four-Point Landing

We’ve gotten permission to share our pieces from @kittylovezine! I got to work with the skilled artist @masilvi (check out their art for the story here), and @clueless-lost-daydreamer was my fantastic beta reader.

There’s a limited supply of leftover products from this project available for purrchase, including a digital or paperback copy of the zine, charms, stickers, prints, and pins.

Also on AO3

⁂

"So let me get this straight," Marinette said, tapping her index finger against her chin. "You're in your last four months of lycee, and you want to move out on your own after graduation. But no one in your life is willing to teach you basic adulting skills." She arched her eyebrows.

Chat Noir nodded. He was a curious mix of eager and nervous.

It bothered her that his family wasn't preparing him. "So you want me to help you with those things?" she asked. "Why me? Don't you have friends outside the suit who could help you?" He visibly deflated at her question so she threw in a qualifier. "I'm happy to help you, Chat, I'm just curious."

"I'm not as free when I'm my other self." He spoke softly, and everything about him seemed hunched up and sad, like he was trying to curl in on himself.

"I'm surprised you'd want my help." She sometimes felt inadequate and underprepared for life on her own. "You've seen I can be a bit of a disaster." Their friendship, sparked the night of the Glaciator akuma, had grown strong over the years.

He beamed at her, radiating joy better than anyone she knew, including Adrien. It was seriously unfair. "Oh Marinette," he said, leaning toward her. "You're amazing. You know how to do so many useful things. You've shared food you've made, and I can't even boil water. I've visited you on laundry day, and I'm terrified I'm going to destroy all my clothes. You're so level-headed; I'm sure you can figure out anything you don't already know. I got overwhelmed by the differing opinions on how to clean the bathroom when I Googled it."

"You poor kitten," she said, careful not to tease too hard. "Of course I'll help. But we may have to call in the big guns if things are beyond me. Okay?"

"Big guns?" he asked, green eyes wide.

"Maman and Papa," she explained.

"Deal."

⁂

The smell of scorched flour filled the kitchen, and Marinette turned from the refrigerator to see Chat hastily yanking a pot off the stove, scowling as he dumped in some water and slammed the lid over the top. He was quieter than normal, and that was usually a bad sign. He braced both hands on the counter near the window and hung his head.

"Chat, are you okay?" It had been his fourth attempt at making a roux, and while he'd gotten farther along, the end result was consistent with his other tries.

"I'm never going to get this," he said softly, as if that would hide the despair. "What am I thinking? I'm never going to survive on my own. I'll have to crawl back to my father a failure."

"Roux is hardly a required staple." She wished she'd picked a different recipe for today. He'd done well learning to read recipes and measure ingredients. His knife skills were impressive. He still had a lot of techniques to learn, and his self-esteem was terrifyingly awful.

"Name one decent cook who can't make roux," he suggested bitterly.

"Maman can't make roux to save her life," Marinette pointed out.

He looked over his shoulder at her, surprised.

Marinette shrugged. "Papa or I make it if she needs it. It's okay."

He looked out the window, then pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm… not used to being so bad at things, and… I'm usually better... faster at picking up new things."

"You've done very well," she insisted.

His cheeks went pink and he looked adorably pleased, but sadness lingered in his eyes.

She held out her arms and approached slowly, though she'd never known him to decline affection. He helped close the distance, and was swiftly snuggled against her, his face nestled into her loose shoulder length hair. "You're doing amazingly well. I'm so proud of you." She felt his breath catch, and it hurt that such simple words, things he should hear regularly, had such an impact on him.

⁂

"All right," Chat said, slipping a piece of paper onto Marinette's desk. "Here's my grocery list for the week."

"You're getting good at this," she said, looking it over. He'd jotted down three recipes he would theoretically make for dinner with leftovers for lunches and other nights. Camembert was right at the very top of the list, as always. "I'm getting you cheese as a housewarming gift."

He snickered. "My uh… miraculous would appreciate that."

She loved hearing him laugh. She'd realized Chat Noir wasn't happy nearly often enough, at least not in his regular life. She pushed her chair back and gestured for him to take over the computer. "Let's see how you do with your shopping."

He navigated to the bookmarks they'd been using for these exercises. He started with the meat department of the grocery store, carefully looking at various cuts of meat and the prices before making his decisions.

"Why is this one so much less expensive?" he asked, pointing.

"Higher ratio of gristle and cartilage," Marinette answered, giggling at the face he made. She would have liked to physically take him shopping so he could get a better understanding of the characteristics and qualities of meat and produce, things that were hard to get from pictures. "Not a fan of extra chewy or crunchy bits in your meat?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay. Maman likes tendon, and I do not." She made a face.

"You're cute when you do that," he said, reaching out to lightly boop her nose.

"Am not."

"Honestly, you're always cute, whether you're making faces or not." He grinned, and turned back to the computer. He added his decisions to the list, with quantity and cost. Before too long, he hopped to his feet. "Whoop!" He handed her the list and danced over to her chaise. "I'm within budget. I win."

She checked his work, joy bubbling up in her chest at his success. "You do win," she agreed.

"It's getting easier, like you said it would."

She joined him on the chaise giddy and warm, something he seemed to trigger in her a lot these days. "We all need to learn this somewhere, and I'm glad you picked me to help."

"So am I. He patted his lap.

Arching an eyebrow, she asked, "You want me to sit on your lap, you naughty cat?"

He nearly fell off the chaise in surprise. "Nooooo. I want to play with your hair." He gave a little shrug. "It was relaxing last time."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It was." She rested her head on his thigh, sighing happily at the touch of his fingers.

⁂

"Oh wow," Marinette said, looking at the photos accompanying the apartment listing. "It's gorgeous. But it's definitely on the upper end of your budget."

Chat nodded. "I think it's what people expect for my first apartment." His arm had slipped around her when she sat beside him, and his fingertips tightened now in an obvious tell. He didn't want the beautiful flat.

"It doesn't matter what others expect, Chat." She gave him a little side hug. "It's your apartment. What do you want?"

He tapped open one of the other tabs, his smile wistful. "I like this one a lot."

It was much smaller with fewer embellishments, but looked nice. "What do you like about it?"

"I think it would be cozy, which is something I don't have… where I live now." He scrolled through the pictures. "No balcony. But the large window off the bedroom faces the back alley. It'll be perfect for slipping in and out as Chat Noir." He opened a tab to a Google Map of Paris and pointed to one of the pins. "Neighborhood is decent, neither snob city nor thug paradise."

She giggled. "You should go see it. Oh!" She slipped out of his hold to fetch a small notebook from the other side of the room. "Papa got this for you." When she sat back down, she wrapped his arm back around her.

He hummed happily and pressed his face into her hair, bumping his nose against the closer of the twin buns she wore.

She set the notebook on the desk so she could properly hug him. "You're getting distracted," she told his chest.

A laugh mixed with a purr rumbled out of him. "You're not exactly discouraging that." He kissed her forehead and opened the notebook to the first page, finding a list of questions followed by a list of warning signs.

"It's to help you get the information you really need, since none of us can come with you." She'd learned a lot when her papa was working on it.

"Most of my friends are moving away for uni," he said softly. "If I make my place safe for you to visit, would you come?"

It was a terrible idea for maintaining identities, but she didn't care. "I'd love to."

#Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #kittylovezine #kitty love zine #fandom project #Marichat #Marinette #Chat Noir #Masilvi #clueless-lost-daydreamer

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thermopylod · 5 years

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Chapter 4. I decided to use the animation timeline for Nanako rather than the game one--it’s just so good, even if it really makes her recovery a little *too* miraculous :P

Snippet below.

Nanako’s recovery progressed slower than Yu would have liked. While she laid in that hospital bed, rarely waking up for longer than a few minutes at a time, the city filled with fog. The sun that had woken him up that first day after entering Nanako’s Heaven was nowhere to be seen anymore. It was all grey, all the time, like the day itself couldn’t quite drag itself out of bed.

Despite this, he managed to find some joy in the time he spent with his friends, and most particularly with Yosuke. Fighting side by side to free Nanako had gone a long way towards breaking down the wall that had built up between them.

“I never got a chance to say it, but thanks for all your help with Nanako’s rescue,” Yu told Yosuke one afternoon as they sat at the strange cafe in Okina, warming up after spending an hour at the arcade They’d been discussing the TV world, and how strange it was that the Shadows inside it seemed to grow stronger every time they met new ones. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”

“Huh? Oh… Don’t thank me, dude. I’m, um,” Yosuke hedged as he scratched at the back of his neck, a pink flush spreading across his nose, “I’m sorry I made you do everything on your own for Naoto’s Lab. It was really childish of me to let my jealousy get in the way of saving someone’s life.”

Jealousy? He couldn’t mean… no, of course not. “I was as much at fault as you were, please don’t blame yourself.”

Yosuke still looked embarrassed. “I’m just glad we got Nanako back safe and sound. Anyway, it was a team effort!”

Yu smiled at him across the table. “I’m very grateful to everybody. But without your help planning everything, and forcing me to stop, I would have endangered us all. I wasn’t in my right mind.” Yu let his expression grow more serious. “I couldn’t have saved her without you.”

Yosuke’s blush seemed to intensify. “Oh, come on. You’re our leader. You would have gotten through it. I just helped.”

Yu wanted to insist, but Yosuke’s reddened cheeks brought out the freckles that dusted them, and he found he’d entirely forgotten what he meant to say by the time he found his voice again.

Yu was distracted, between hospital visits and catching up on his studies, so he didn’t notice the pattern until Yosuke and Teddie came for dinner about a week later.

“I’ve had a lot of company for dinner lately,” he told Yosuke with a suspicious squint as they stood in the kitchen, Yosuke rinsing rice while Yu finished the curry he’d started earlier.

“Uh, haha, what are you talking about? We just randomly decided to come over!”

“Mm, randomly. Just like Kanji and Naoto decided to randomly bring some extra homemade soba yesterday, and Chie and Yukiko also randomly dropped by the day before that. And the day before that, I believe you brought Aiya’s.”

“Ah…” Yosuke chuckled awkwardly, “...you got me. When Teddie and I realised you’d been home alone this whole time, we had to do something…”

Yu couldn’t stop an exceedingly fond smile from worming its way onto his face. He quickly turned back towards his curry, hoping Yosuke hadn’t seen it.

“Thanks, Yosuke. I appreciate it. But maybe next time, don’t tell Chie and Yukiko? The stew they brought was… well. It ate a hole in the trash can,” he said, pointing to the evidence.

“Oh, no,” Yosuke said with a gasp. “I am so sorry, dude. How can I make it up to you?!”

“Maybe convince them I don’t need company anymore? Yukiko said something about a cake recipe she wanted to ‘improve on’...” Yu shuddered. “Oh, actually, that reminds me. We have leftovers from Kanji and Naoto’s visit for dessert.”

“Really?!” Yosuke exclaimed. “What did they make?”

“Strawberry fraisier,” Yu said, laughing at the way Yosuke’s expression lit up as he raced over to the fridge.

“Oh, man that looks amazing! I can’t believe you didn’t finish it.”

“Well, I had a suspicion I wouldn’t be eating dinner alone tonight, and I didn’t have time to make curry and dessert…”

“This was supposed to be about cheering you up, but you’re the one catering to us,” Yosuke frowned. “I feel bad.”

“No, don’t. I’m glad you and Teddie told everyone to visit. It really has been pretty lonely being all alone here.”

Yosuke gave him a strange look; a little like pity, but unexpectedly soft. Before Yu could decipher it, the rice cooker beeped, startling them both.

“Time to eat, I guess!” Yosuke said a little too quickly, like he was trying to cover something up. “Come set the table, Teddie!”

Before long, they were devouring the curry in front of a rerun of Featherman R. Yosuke and Teddie were taking turns shouting out the heroes’ lines while Yu looked on, amused; it seemed they must have watched the series often back at the Hanamura’s. He hadn’t thought too much about it—after all, Teddie had joined them in the real world only a short time before their falling out—but Yosuke and Teddie really seemed to treat each other like brothers. Despite the way Yosuke snapped at the bear whenever he made a mistake, and how Teddie took every opportunity to needle him, when it came down to it, they seemed to watch out for each other. It was very different from his relationship with Nanako, but he was glad they were there for each other in their own way.

While the team waited for Nanako to recover, they took some time to breathe. It seemed like they had finally, truly solved the case. There was something about the resolution of the case that kept nagging at Yu just a bit—something that seemed like it wasn’t quite right—but he tried to put it out of his mind, figuring it was just leftover anxiety, and focused on spending time with his friends. He, Teddie, Yosuke and Kanji spent a cold Sunday at the beach taking pictures and drinking hot chocolate, Yukiko taught him about the tea ceremony in exchange for his help with her cooking, and he got a fun, if exhausting, workout in with Chie, Kou and Daisuke.

After another long week, Nanako’s recovery had finally progressed to the point where the nurses were considering letting her come home. The whole team gathered at Junes the day before her expected return to plan out a homecoming party. They were discussing snacks and decorations when Yu suddenly remembered something.

“Oh! I need to get a new kotatsu!”

“For the party?”

“No, I mean, for Nanako in general. Ours wasn’t working when we took it out for the winter, and we were supposed to go get a new one together, but then she…”

Yosuke, sitting next to him, gave him a worried glance as he trailed off. “Well then, let’s go pick one out right now! I think we’re having a sale, so it’s perfect timing. Let’s go!”

Yu knew his enthusiasm was meant to distract him from Nanako’s kidnapping, but he was grateful for it all the same. Anyway, Nanako was ok, and she was going to be home very soon. There was no point fretting over what had happened now. He stood to follow Yosuke and the group, already picturing everyone gathered around the new kotatsu, with Nanako in his lap and delicious foods spread across the table. They were halfway across the food court when his phone rang in his pocket.

“Yu speaking?”

“Hey, Yu, it’s Adachi.”

“Oh, hello. Do you have a message from my uncle?”

“No, it’s… I want you to stay calm and listen to me, ok?”

[continued here]

#souyo #fanfic #persona 4 #souji seta #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #nanako dojima #and all their friends

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

Text

Blame [Surgeon!Calum AU] Ch.3

Summary: What do you do if the only person you feel the connection to is the person you blamed for your sibling’s death?

A/N: This thing came up from my headass asks to wonderful Summer about neonatal surgeon!Calum au, which you can see here and here and here to understand the concept. I didn’t plan to do it at all, but the idea stuck in my mind and with support and encouragement from Summer, I came up with that. This is my first time publishing anything on Tumblr, so the feedback is extremely appreciated. Enjoy

Warnings: much less angst (I promised it’ll get better very soon), couple curse words, lack of proofreading

Chapter 3

The morning was gloomy just like Anna’s mood. She yawned again and switched off the stove, her fried eggs almost ready. She grimaced, moving them to the plate and sitting at the table. She didn’t like fried eggs, but that was basically the last piece of food in her fridge.

She remembered yesterday’s wish to cook something for dinner. Like there was anything to actually cook.

She added grocery shopping to the to-do list she was currently making up in her head and winced at too bitter taste of coffee. She ran out of milk… when exactly? Last week?

Anna wasn’t typically so bad at housekeeping. But last week’s events really messed with her routine. If things had gone differently, she wouldn’t have sat here having breakfast out of the last two eggs from her fridge. She would have been staying at Staten Island with her parents, helping around the house. She’d planned to be back to her flat the very morning of her first classes and purposefully emptied her fridge not really wishing to deal with spoilt leftovers. Now she had to adapt to new circumstances.

She finished her eggs and gave it another thought. It was Thursday morning. She was about to leave to her parents’ the next afternoon and stay at their house for as long as possible. Was it reasonable to go grocery shopping now? Or better fall back into the sinful habit of takeaways?

The very moment she was tossing between those two options, her phone vibrated shortly.

Anna took a deep breath and checked her messages. It was Ally. Anna felt her heart slowing down. Of course it was just Allie and not him.

“Jo’s cooking lasagna tonight, so I thought about grabbing some Thai food. What do u say? Noodles and wine?”

Anna couldn’t help smirking to that. Jo had an Italian Grandma, who she’d never seen in her life. Grandma Falsetti died pretty young, couple years before Jo’s Mom and Dad even met. Nevertheless Jo felt some deep connection to her late Grandma Falsetti. This connection came out in a peculiar idea that Jo had a secret talent to cook true Italian lasagna. How and when that idea settled in Jo’s eccentric mind girls had no idea. But every now and then Jo tried to prove her secret and probably yet sleeping cooking talent. She bought everything the little Italian grocery shop nearby could offer and started another crusade towards her dream dish. It would have been probably an easier task if she’d ever looked up any lasagna recipes. But Jo didn’t believe in online cookbooks and instead had an absolute faith in her spiritual connection to Grandma Falsetti. Allie and Anna never questioned that connection. They learned after the first lasagna dinner that Jo was her own fiercest critic, and every result of her desperate attempts to wake up her Italian roots was eventually thrown away. And every lasagna dinner was easily turned into a pizza dinner. Or Chinese dinner. Today it was Thai. Anna particularly adored lasagna dinners for their optimistic spirit. Jo, being a crazy passionate optimist, was never taken down by her failures in the kitchen and kept repeating that every experience was an experience. At least now she knew several wrong ways to cook lasagna, which only brought her closer to the right one.

Today’s invitation, being welcoming and well-timed on its own, also solved her grocery shopping dilemma.

Annabelle typed back “Sure! Will be there by 8. Wine’s on me” and wanted to switch off the phone but halted, her gaze settled at the contact name of the next dialogue. Her heartbeat picked up its pace again. She opened the tab, scrolled up to the very beginning and started rereading their messages. As if she hadn’t already learned them by heart.

She remember last night’s hesitation and sudden urge to text him. Still hadn’t quite understood what made her do it. And of course the first ever idea of what to type was exactly as silly as all her words said or sent to him so far.

23.46 “What would’ve happened if I’d taken a coffee?”

Even several hours later she still blushed rereading that. Why couldn’t she have started with simple “Hi” or “It’s Anna, sorry to bother”? Why her subconscious was making her look ridiculous?

23.47 “There would’ve been one coffee less on the table in the on-call room”

The speed and simplicity of his answer was calming and exciting at the same time. He stated that just like they were continuing a conversation they’d paused a minute ago and not fifteen hours. It made her almost dizzy. To the point of completely losing her mind judging by her next questions.

23.48 “That easy?”

23.49 “That easy”

23.49 “And nothing more?”

23.50 “And nothing more”

Anna dropped her phone on the table and hid her face in her hands, groaning quietly. Such a dumbass…

She recalled staring at his short unimaginative responses last night for couple minutes. After which she’d remembered about good manners.

23.54 “Sorry for the late night messages”

“Especially so stupid ones,” she thought now.

23.55 “I’ve at least 8 more hours on a shift so not so late night for me”

23.55 “Oh, ok”

The sounds, that were Anna’s reaction to that fine piece of epistolary genre, were hardly human.

23.56 “Working tmrrw too?”

23.57 “No, days off till Sat. Y?”

Anna’s hands started shaking again, almost like last night when she was typing her next message, praying at the same time for an alien invasion which would instantly block all the mobile connection and stop her from finishing her question. Whatever impediment this insane world could offer would actually do, she’d thought, cause she wasn’t able to stop her fingers from typing and feared to death to actually ask him what she was about to ask.

23.59 “Could we maybe meet up? For a coffee or sth? I really need to talk to you”

She still couldn’t believe she wrote about coffee. But as usual realisation came after she pressed send. She’d sat on her bed after that biting her fingers nervously and looking at three little dots showing on his side of the screen.

00.00 “Sure. Fri noon ok?”

Annabelle hadn’t noticed she’d hold her breath till she got that text. She’d gasped for air and almost jumped on her bed.

00.01 “Yeah, totaly”

00.02 “Let’s hold on to that, but i’ll confirm tomorrow evening in case they call me in overnight”

00.02 “Yeah, cool”

00.03 “Goodnight then”

Anna exhaled loudly rereading that last message from him for a thousandth time at least.

Why that simple sign of politeness was raising such sensation in her? Why did she see something more than just politeness behind those two words? And why everything about that man was so damn intense?

***

“It’s all about the right mood,” Jo repeated for the third time, putting her future masterpiece in the oven.

“Whose mood exactly?” mocked her Allie. Jo continued staring into the oven through the thick glass and didn't pay much attention to her friend’s words.

“Yeah, Jo, whose mood?” joined Anna, “A cook’s?”

“Or maybe guest’s?”

“No, no, no, I know! It’s all about the lasagna’s mood!” Anna started giggling, mostly because of her fair share of wine, consumed while Jo was cooking.

Jo smirked, standing up. “You are absolute bitches today, ladies! Congratulations!”

Anna and Allie raised glasses in a joky toast from the opposite side of a kitchen island.

“So, how are your parents?” Allie asked in much more serious tone.

Anna put her glass down and shrugged silently. Jo sent Allie disapproval look.

“You’ve seen my Mom in the hospital. She tries to act normal. But of course it’s hard. It’s hard for everyone,” finally said Anna. “I don’t even know what is worse, the way she acts now, or if she spent all her time alone and crying and mourning.”

“Of course second option is worse, darling,” said Jo softly.

“But shouldn’t you like… go through it. You know, anger, depression, all that stuff. I feel like she’s stuck in her denial phase. What if she’s actually harming herself that way?”

Jo was obviously lost for words. Allie sighed deeply and noted, “Everybody copes their own way. Knowing Jennifer, it’s quite understandable that she doesn’t want other people to see her grief. She’s exactly that type of woman who’d cry for three days and then stand up and go on with her life. She was never the one to dwell.”

Anna nodded, took another sip of her wine. “I get it. And you right. It’s just. I don’t know, I feel like I miss on something. The way they react… We did have time to prepare to any outcome, knowing about Grayson’s heart condition for some time. But… I sometimes feel like they overcame it in like couple hours. I know they actually didn’t, they do grieve. But the fact that they don’t really show it leaves me confused. Because I don’t understand anything. What should I do? Should I cry? Should I be angry? Should I let go and act it like there were no baby at all? I cried with my Mom the very first day, I had my gush of anger. But now…” she shook her head. “I’m literally at a loss. And my emotions are at a verge. One moment I’m completely alright, the next I’m sobbing in the middle of a parking lot. I mean, what is wrong with me?”

“Hey, nothing is wrong with you,” reassured her Jo, while Allie simply hugged Anna and stayed like that. “There is no instruction that will tell you how you should feel. Because there’s no should, Belle. You just feel, the way you do. And if it means crying in the middle of the fucking parking lot, then fine!”

Anna snorted to that, feeling tears in her eyes. “I just feel like a freak.”

“You’re not. You are hurting. It’ll take time. Just give it some time,” almost whispered Allie.

“Guess, you’re right.”

Anna took another sip of her wine and went faster, like she just remembered it. “About Saturday, there’ll be no funeral. Mom wanted cremation. So it’ll be just a little memorial-ish stuff at our house, nothing official at all. Only family and closest friends. Will you come anyway?’

“Of course, darling,” confirmed Allie. “Noon?”

“Yeah.”

They kept silence for some time, drinking and not looking at each other. Then Jo, visibly hesitating, decided to ask. “Belle, is Bryan going to come?”

Allie rolled her eyes to that question and Anna snorted.

“Yes, Jo, I’m sorry to upset you, but Bryan is going to be there. We messaged yesterday and he confirmed, that he won’t leave for school till Monday.”

“Messaged?” Jo asked in slight confusion. “You didn't talk to him?”

Anna shrugged nonchalantly, than added. “Wasn't feeling like talking.” And set her gaze at the wine glass she was twisting in her fingers.

Jo looked at Allie, who shook her head asking Jo to drop the topic. Jo widened her eyes in fake innocence when Anna sighed and gave in. “Say it,” she stated firmly.

“What?” Jo decided to continue acting innocent.

“Whatever you wanted to say. Just say it.”

“I just-” Jo hesitated for a moment, which made Anna look up at her friend in mild surprise. If there was one thing Jo could never be accused of it was hesitation. “Don't you think it's rather odd, Belle? He’s your boyfriend of more than three years and you wasn't feeling like talking to him in the probably darkest moment of you life.”

Anna frowned and looked at Allie. “Do you think it's odd too?”

Allie shook her head finishing her wine. “Can you please keep me out of this conversation?” she said, when realised that her friends’ gazes didn't move from her.

“No?” Anna raised her eyebrows.

Allie rolled her eyes at Jo and looked at her empty glass. “Well, I guess, it is a little odd. I guess if I was in the relationship I would want the guy to take care of me in such moment,” she shrugged. “But everybody's different. And if you feel like being alone, it seems totally fine to me,” she concluded, stressing her last words and looking at Jo again.

“Well, I'm sorry for being so hard-heartedly honest, but it doesn't really seems fine to me,” stated Jo.

A loud sound struck in the settled silence. Anna looked back at the couch where she left her phone. “To tell the truth, Jo, Bryan is definitely the last of my problems right now.”

She stood up and stepped to the couch to check the message. She was intended to keep her face emotionless not to give much away (mostly because there was literally nothing to give away), but she couldn't help her smile when she saw the contact name.

“Still up for that coffee?”

Her fingers started typing before she even thought about her reply. She waited a moment till he sent her an address of a little coffee shop next to the NY public library, switched her screen off, went back to the kitchen island and realised that girls’ gazes were on her all that time.

“What?” she played dumb under Jo’s questioning look.

“Who was that?” Jo obviously had a hard time trying to suppress her curiosity. Anna looked at her, then at Allie, who as usual wasn't giving much away, but was definitely interested too.

“That was…” Anna stumbled. How would she explain all of it?

“Don't say that was nobody!” exclaimed Jo. “I swear, Belle, if you say it was nobody, I'll steal you phone and look.”

Anna was taken aback. “Hey, chill, would you? Why does it even matter?”

“Because you smiled,” quietly said Allie and Anna felt almost betrayed.

“And not just smiled! You smiled your special little smile,” continued Jo as she started to slightly bounce on her tiptoes impatiently.

“Special smile? I don't have any special smiles, what are you even talking about?”

“You do,” noted Allie matter of factly.

“See? Thank you, Allie! Now spill the beans!”

“There's nothing to spill. It was Dr. Hood.” She took a bottle and poured herself more wine, but mostly just to occupy herself with something cause she suddenly felt awkward.

“Dr. Hood?” Jo repeated in disbelief and Allie almost choked on her wine. “Is it that hot doctor we saw staring at you at the hospital?”

“Well, yes,” Anna confirmed, still not risking to look at her friends.

Jo shrieked and spinned throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew it!” she yelled looking at Anna with excitement. “I knew there was something between the two of you!”

“There’s literally nothing between us, I swear,” Anna said holding her hands up in calming gesture.

“Wait, first things first! How did it even happen that you text?” bursted Allie being as excited as Jo, to Anna’s utter bewilderment.

“Well, he gave us his card, you know, just in case, when Mom only got to the hospital,” Anna explained.

Jo gave a whistle. “So it was you who texted first? I can say that I've never been so proud of you, my little Belle!”

Anna sighed and hid her head in her hands. “It’s absolutely not like that, Jo!” she groaned. “Can you not, please?”

“Then just tell us!” begged Jo.

“I shouted at him, okay?” Anna confessed, still hiding her face. Then she took a deep breath, took her hand off of her face and met two shocked stares. “The gush of anger I had,” she started explaining. “It was the very night Grayson died. I'd been hiding in the hospital corridors for some time, needed some privacy to bail my eyes out, you know. And then I decided to come back to my Mom's room and I saw him in a hall. And… it was really awful. I blamed him for everything, said he hadn't saved my brother, that it was his fault. Then started crying again. An absolute mess.”

Anna shook her head on the unwanted memory.

“What did he do?” Allie asked softly.

“Nothing much. He held me the whole time I was crying, ‘s all.”

The room was silent for some time.

“So why did you text him?” finally asked Jo.

Anna looked up at her. “I asked him to meet me. I need to apologize properly for what a horrible person I was to him.”

“Anna,” Allie gasped putting her hand on Anna’s back and stroking her soothingly. “You aren't a horrible person. You were devastated by your loss. What you did is more than understandable.”

Anna chuckled bitterly. “It wasn't actually the only shit thing I did.”

“What?”

“The day you came to visit my Mom, I was sitting on the bench in front of the hospital that morning. I was sitting there every morning before entering, actually. Needed a moment to myself, you know. So he sat next to me and offered coffee he’d bought for me. And I just shoved him off like a total bitch. And he just tried to be friendly.”

“Belle, I'm sure he understands,” tried to reassure her Jo.

“Of course, he does,” Annabelle agreed. “But that's not the point at all. The way I acted, that's not me. I'm not that person and I need him to know it. I can't explain, but I just can't leave it like that. I owe him an apology no matter what reasons I had.”

“When are you meeting?” Jo asked a moment later.

“Tomorrow noon,” she answered as Jo’s oven alarm went off.

Jo bounced again in anticipation and picked potholders. “Finally!” she breathed out, opening the oven.

They understood something was wrong as soon as Jo started cutting it in portions. The dish was basically breaking under her knife with loud crunching. Allie and Anna looked at each other too scared to say a word. Jo groaned, mumbled something about “the fucking fuck” and threw another result of her cooking into her trash bin. Then she looked up at girls and asked, looking tired and pissed, “So, what did you bring today?”

“Thai,” confessed Allie with shy smile. “But we need to heat it up.”

“Well, you know how to use my microwave,” Jo shrugged waving to Anna. “Belle, give me that damn bottle, will you? I need to drink up that disaster.”

Annabelle giggled, handing Jo wine and smiling at the visibly lightening mood. She couldn't help but thought that no matter what was happening in her life, lasagna dinners would always be there to save her from all the troubles. And at that moment she couldn't be more grateful for that.

***

“Are you sure you wanna go today?” her dad asked for at least fourth time. “Traffic’s gonna be awful.”

Anna smiled. “Dad, it's New York, traffic’s gonna be awful no matter when I decide to come.”

He chuckled lightly. “Okay, sweetheart. You gonna stay for the whole weekend?”

“No, actually I was about to stay till Tuesday. I've got first class in the afternoon so I could leave in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Well, yeah. As long as you okay with me bothering you for so long,” she joked.

“Don't be silly.” Annabelle could see her Dad’s frown right now and smiled wider. “I just thought as it’s your last weekend before school starts you’d want…”

Anna didn't let him finish. “There’s no other place I’d rather be right now, Dad.”

“Sure thing, Anna.”

“I'll text you when I set off, ‘kay? Don't start dinner without me!”

“Can't promise you anything, sweetheart. Your Mom’s cooking curry tonight so…”

“I won't speak to you ever again if you start without me!” she threatened, giggling.

“I'm just saying I wouldn't waste much time for packing if I were you,” Mark teased again.

“I’m leaving right now,” Anna heard her father chuckle again and the sound made her heart shrink. Or maybe it was the sight of a tall man in black shirt and black jeans waiting for her outside of a quite busy coffee shop. Anna felt her hands starting to shake. “Dad, I have to go, but I'll text you later.”

“Okay, darling. I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight,” Anna mumbled and finished her call.

That very moment he saw her and put his phone he was scrolling through while waiting in the pocket of his jeans.

Anna felt her heart setting off in a running pace. Say Hi or Hello? Smile or better not? What was more appropriate in conversation with a man she’d accused of the most horrible things?

“I thought of buying us coffee, but realised you’ve never actually told me,” he said with a ghost of a smile on his lips, saving her from struggling with her first words.

“Never told you what?” Anna felt lost at this.

“What coffee you prefer,” he explained and let smile touch his face finally.

Anna widened her eyes half because of the fact that she didn't understand that herself, half because he wanted to buy her coffee even after she shoved him off the last time he did. “Er, cappuccino would be fine, but you don't have to buy me coffee,” she shook her head frowning a little.

He shrugged and stepped into the coffee shop without sparing her another word. Anna followed him just to see the barista noticing him and raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I was right,” told him Dr. Hood leaving Anna even more at a loss.

The barista guy smirked and handed him two coffee cups, giving Anna an examining look.

Dr. Hood turned back to Anna and gestured her to go back to the street.

“There are tables in the park across the street,” he showed her. “We can sit there and talk. And here's your cappuccino,” he handed her a cup and stepped towards the said park.

“So you did buy me coffee,” she concluded looking at his back and following him suit.

He shrugged and Anna thought she heard him snort. “It was a lucky shot. You just seemed like a cappuccino type,” he said and looked at her as they entered the park.

“A cappuccino type,” Anna murmured to herself having close to no clue what he was actually talking about. What was a cappuccino type after all?

“Well thanks for the coffee,” she said as they settled at a table next to a big tree and as far away from the walking paths as possible. She noted his lips twitch a little. “And thank you for not commenting on it further,” she sighed, looking away from him.

“Any time,” he answered, took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How have you been?”

Anna shrugged. What could she answer to that? Was she alright? She wasn’t even sure what alright was anymore. She looked back at him, taking slightly aback by the unexpected seriousness in his eyes. She shrugged again and saw his nod of understanding. He wasn’t looking at her with sympathy or pity, wasn’t judgemental or embarrassed by the pain behind that shrug. He just understood. And surprisingly it was exactly what she needed right now.

“So why did you wanna see me?” he asked after another minute of sitting there in silence.

Anna felt tears coming up to her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him, not again. She gathered all the courage she had left in her and breathed out, “Dr. Hood, I-”

“It’s Calum,” he interrupted her with a shy smile.

Anna looked up at him again. “Um, what?”

“My name is Calum,” he repeated, his smile widening. “We’re no longer in doctor-patient relationship. Truth to be told we’ve never actually were. But anyway, call me Calum, please. Dr. Hood still has me a little uncomfortable,” he admitted.

“Oh, okay,” Annabelle mumbled, cursing herself again for the stupid childish answers. “Well, Calum, I just wanted to apologize,” she stated, looking at her hands, started picking on her nail polish out of nervousness. “For the night it all happened and for the Wednesday morning too. I had no right to blame you for what happened, I know you’ve done everything that was possible. And I’m sorry I was a total bitch to you when you just tried to be friendly. And-”

“Hey, don’t,” he stopped her again and suddenly Anna felt his right hand gripping on hers. His hand was hot and soft and so big, with three letters tattooed between his thumb and index finger. He waited till she looked back at him and said softly, “You don’t have to apologize. I totally understand.”

Anna shook her head and leaned back on her chair, her hands are still in his grip. She noticed with her side sight a little girl in pretty pink dress running excitedly around a woman several meters behind Calum and felt tears coming up again. “It doesn’t matter if I had a reason or not. I’m thankful you understand, but I still had no right to act like I did towards you. And I’m so sorry that I did. And I really hope you could forgive me, cause honestly words cannot even start to explain how grateful I am for everything you did.”

Calum smiled again and started with, “Anna, you-” but this time he was interrupted.

Two tiny hands gripped on his left arm and a chubby cheek pressed to his tattooed biceps. Calum turned his look to the little intruder. Annabelle freed her hands from his grip and looked at a little girl in confusion. Pretty pink dress with a flowery print told her it was the same girl she noticed couple minutes ago. The girl was about three, had pretty curls the color of milk chocolate and big blue eyes, which were fixed on Calum’s still slightly surprised face.

“And who is that here?” he chuckled, big smile on his face.

“It’s just me, doctah Cawum,” she replied and giggled, not looking anywhere but at him. “I made a wish I meet you today,” she revealed shyly and giggled again.

“Seems like a real magic to me,” Calum chuckled again, standing up from his chair and bending down to the girl. “Now, I guess I deserve my hug.”

The girl laughed happily, as he lifted her up and spinned couple of times, squeezing her in his massive arms. They stopped and the girl pulled back a little, settling comfortable on his hip. That was exactly when a woman the girl was with came up to them, she looked a little embarrassed and angry.

“Aubrie, how many times do I need to tell you not to run away from me?” she nagged little girl in a rather soft voice.

“But I saw doctah Cawum!” Aubrie stated, like it was totally indulging. The woman snorted, looking at the man holding her little daughter. “Of course you did,” she sighed. “Hello, Calum! And I’m sorry we interrupted you,” she looked apologetically at Anna.

Calum hugged her with his free arm with no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m always glad to see you. This is Anna, by the way,” he looked back at Annabelle. Anna smiled at the woman. “And these are Laura and my favourite patient Princess Aubrie,” he introduced them, bouncing Aubrie on his hip.

“I’m not a patient, I’m your friend!” exclaimed Aubrie and hid her face in his neck.

“Oh, I’m so silly! I’m sorry, princess, of course you’re my friend!” he agreed easily and moved his gaze to Laura. “You were at the hospital? How is our little girl?”

“Yeah, we were at the usual checking. Dr. Irwin said she’s absolutely okay. Even approved on dancing classes,” she smiled, stroking Aubries curls.

“Will you come to my concert when I be dancin’ pwincess?” Aubrie asked, pulling away and looking at Calum with eyes full of adoration.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, hugging her again.

“Okay, angel, we have to go,” her mother sighed. “Hug doctor Calum goodbye and let’s go.”

“No, Mama,” whined Aubrie and clung on Calum’s neck with both hands, making him laugh quietly.

“Remember you wanted to buy those beautiful cups for your garden party? If we go now we’ll probably have enough time to do it today,” traded Laura with a mischievous grin.

Her trick obviously worked, as Aubrie let go off Calum’s neck with a sad expression on her face.

“Will you come to my garden party?” she asked him, before letting him put her down.

“Well, if your Mom and Dad are okay with that,” he hold back for a moment.

“Come on, Calum, you know, you are always a welcome guest in our house,” smiled Laura at him.

“I will most definitely come,” Calum promised to the little girl in his arms. “When is it going to be?”

“Next Saturday, at around three,” said Laura, as Aubrie struggled with answering, probably not very good with days and time yet.

“Then I’ll see you there, right, princess?” Calum asked Aubrie, and she nodded excitedly, glowing with happiness.

He hugged Aubrie one more time, they said their goodbyes with Laura, who shared one more smile with Anna, and with that they left.

Calum stood there for a moment more, looking after them, and then sat back down on his chair, shy smile still on his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, looking at Anna.

“That’s okay,” she smiled back, even though her heart was aching from the sight of a happy little kid. “Did you treat her?”

Callum hummed admittedly.

“Tell me about it,” Anna asked.

Calum frowned, her request took him by surprise.

“Well, Aubrie was one of my first patients after I started operating after couple of years of residency. She was born premature and had a heart condition.”

“Like my brother?”

“Not exactly,” he shook his head, his stare not leaving Anna’s face for a moment. “There was a little problem with her cardiac valve, it’s rather easier than what your brother had. She was operated on the third day after her birth and spent almost four weeks after that in an NICU. She needs regular check ups now. Although her chances of living a healthy life without any other operations are very high.”

“You aren’t the one who checks up on her?” Anna asked, slightly confused.

“No, my job is finished after the first month of their life,” Calum explained. “Then we pass our little patients on to pediatrics. But I do like to follow their progress,” he finished quietly.

Anna nodded, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Why’d you ask?”

She looked straight at Calum and felt a lonely tear fall down her cheek.

“I don’t really know,” she said, wiping a tear with her hand and smiling apologetically. “Just needed some good story, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum stretched his arm forward and grabbed her hand again, making her shake a little. “There’ll be plenty of them in your life. Just give them some time.”

She smiled back at him and sniffed. She squeezed his hand in silent thank you and offered, “Do you, maybe, wanna walk a little? Of course, if you’re not-”

“I’m not,” he smirked, standing and pulling her up by her hand, “whatever you wanted to say next.”

Anna let him snake his arm around her shoulders and lead up the street. She was dazed by his easiness and by the way her heart felt lighter. She couldn’t even try to explain all the things she felt, too overwhelmed by his presence. But she was absolutely positive about one thing. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with his arm around her shoulders.

Taglist: @dancingonanemptywallet @5saucewho

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