carb loading!

food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

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Leave This Town Pt 11 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Tony Stark, Steve (mentioned)

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. When something unexpected brings you home, you’re brought back to the place where everything changed. Timing is everything and now there just might be a second chance with the man you left behind.

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff, small cliffhanger? oops.

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Oof. This part was a bit of a struggle with a lot going on in my work and personal life. Thank you for your understanding when I needed to extend my usual posting deadline. I really hope you enjoy this part and I love any feedback you have to share! I love you all!!! <3

<<<Part 10   Part 11   Part 12>>> 

Leave This Town Masterlist

Full Masterlist


Originally posted by mi-luna-de-queso


“Hi. You made it,” you said with a laugh, beaming.

“I did,” he said with a chuckle. “Made good time, too. Just couldn’t wait any longer to get to you,” he admitted, capturing your lips in another kiss.

Breaking apart, you finally took in the vehicle that had brought him here with a wide smile. “Is that what I think it is?”

He smirked then, turning towards the car but keeping an arm around your waist. “Yup. The Impala.”


“It’s….it’s incredible. I can’t believe you finished it! I didn’t see it at the shop when I was there, though,” you inquired, still in disbelief that you were finally holding Bucky in your arms here in the City of Angels.

“Well,” he began with a quirked eyebrow, “It still wasn’t much to look at for a long time, but once I decided to come out here, I knew I wanted to arrive in style,” he grinned, squeezing you tighter to his side.

“And you’ve succeeded. You did all this yourself in 6 weeks?” you asked, reaching a hand out to caress the shiny black paint of the hood.

“No, not alone. And it took longer than that. I did finally have the time to work on it slowly once I had help, but I spent the past month showing Pete how to rebuild an engine and this was the perfect way to do that. I found a good parts dealer and once it was drivable, I took it to a place a few hours away and did the paint job myself. They only charged me for materials,” he declared proudly with a smile.

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” you stated, turning back toward him and raising a hand to thread your fingers in his chestnut strands. “I’ve missed you so much.”

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Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen part 4]

Hi, friends! I seriously meant to post this a few days ago, but life and illness made it difficult. Plus this is kind of a long chapter but I wanted to get it right. I hope I did! Let me know your thoughts. :)

Part Three: Evasive Maneuvers    Part 4      Part Five: Unavailable


Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen Part 4]

Characters: reader x Bucky, Steve, Tony, other Avengers mentioned

Summary: Progression of the relationship between reader and Bucky as they make plans, which get rudely interrupted. 

Warnings: fluffy fluff plus a little angst

This is along one! It might be my favorite, though. I really wanted to portray the passage of time and how “real life” intervenes in a relationship. Plus the music! I had to add that kitchen scene. :D Thankfully, I’ve figured out the “Keep Reading” situation, so it won’t clog up your dashboard. 

Tag list: @holycoldcoffee @anitavalija @writingruna @you-and-bucky @imaginingbucky @marvelingatthewonder @squishybucky @bionic-buckyb @sebbytrash @bovaria @pleasecallmecaptain @animeroses318

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in the future! Send me an ask. 


Sunlight fell across your face through a slit in the curtains. Turning away from the brightness, you opened your eyes and gazed into the still-sleeping face of Bucky Barnes. It must’ve been a restful night, his face relaxed with his lips slightly parted. Most nights were good but every once in a while he would wake with a furrowed brow and clamped mouth. You knew he still struggled with nightmares, but he didn’t like to talk about it. All he ever said was that it was always better with you there. Which is what made today so hard.

It had been a two weeks since that fateful night of Fraggle Rock and the following morning of bliss. You and Bucky fell into an easy routine of friendly interaction during the day and as much of a workout in the gym as either of you could handle before the REAL workout took precedent at night. You had moved beyond the wrestling mats by then and had just a little more self control in order to make it to one of your rooms before disrobing.

This particular morning, you were aware which room you had stumbled into last night in a instant. Bucky’s room still consisted of 4 blank white walls, a bed, and a small bookshelf with a lamp on top. You were all for the minimalist look, but it could use a little personality. In a moment of inspiration, you grabbed a black Sharpie from the bookshelf and uncapped it. Rolling onto your stomach and scooting up to the wall above the head of the bed, you began to draw.

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in the dumps [peter parker]

you find spider-man in your dumpster.

tagging: @redgillan, @mattymattymerduck, @avengerofyourheart, @wakandasoldier, @darlingbuchanan, @bemystucky, @idorkish, @iwillbeinmynest, @aubzylynn, @angryschnauzer, @almondbuttercup, @ipaintmelodies, @rotisserierogers

warnings: none!

additional notes: i absolutely adore peter so here is a lil thing i wrote for him. i imagine peter and the reader to be in their early to mid twenties here. and the reader (gender-neutral) is the inferno, a vigilante. i’m not much for first meetings fics but i had this idea and i liked it. may or may not be based on that scene from daredevil heheh.

A nice, carb-loaded, garlicky alfredo pasta had seemed like a great idea at the time. Now that your craving was fulfilled, all the pasta was good for was stinking up your entire apartment. When you decided the smell had become too much, you forced yourself off of the couch, slid into your sandal slippers, took the trash bag out of the can, and headed downstairs to take out the garbage. Bear, your beefy blue pitbull, barked when you shut the door before he could follow, whining when you went down the hall. You rolled your eyes; he was such a big baby, even if he was your baby.

It was cold outside, but you were warm enough in your T-shirt and flannel pants. Being the Inferno meant little fear of the winter on your part. It was the summers that inconvenienced you; wearing little clothing and wrangling your thick hair up into bun at the top of your head could only do so much to cool you off. On this chilly night in November, it was comforting to see your breath hover in the air in a cloud of fog, even if you were next to a green container of trash. You threw open the lid—

And found Spider-Man in your dumpster.

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Safety (Rocket Raccoon x Reader)

word count: 1,200 


kind of? 

Series: none


 Summary: reader and rockets’ first date turns into a disaster when they’re both kidnapped. sass, fluff, and the beginning of a relationship ensue.

A/N:  I haven’t written anything in over a year + this is the longest thing I think I've written and I did it on almost no sleep, so I’m sorry if it sucked!

This wasn’t what you had pictured would happen on a seemingly normal first date, but then again what could you expect from a space traveling raccoon named Rocket. You’d both been friends for a while, ever since he and his group saved you from near death on earth, but only recently decided you wanted to take your relationship to another level. The date started out normal. Rocket came to pick you up in “Milano”, (a space ship you’d come to find out was stolen from his friend and fellow space scavenger/ex Earthling Peter and his space father Yondu.). He took you to a rather nice restaurant where you proceeded to have a candle lit dinner. cheesy? hell yeah, but that made it that much more enjoyable.

The date was going great, up until the third course. The waiter was just setting down plates delicious pasta when the doors to the small restaurant were flung open. You froze as the lively atmosphere was reduced to a nervous silence. A man, who you’d later find out was named Yondu, came bounding over to the table with Peter close behind. “Now what did I tell you about taking that ship?!” he shrieked, grabbing rocket by the collar. “i-i’m sorry?’ rocket replied, obviously confused. Just as Yondu was about to go on a rant about how “none of these children respect him”, a tall, gorgeous, but very purple woman, accompanied by several equally tall and purple men walked up to the table. The woman gave a quick hand signal, which caused the men to knock out Yondu and Peter while Rocket and Yourself were put into restraints.

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Eh. That’s not 20 at 6:50. Still a good effort, but I was expecting more with 5 weeks to go.

I had to stop to use the bathroom halfway and then walked a few paces at 12 while fishing out my gel and sipping some water. I was averaging 6:54, but from there I just couldn’t get it back. I struggled to hit 7:30 for the next 6 before calling it.

To some extent I don’t think I’ve been preparing well for my long runs. I need to carb load, hydrate, and sleep like I would for the marathon. The big CES 20 is in two weeks, so I need to nail that one to feel prepared for a shot at a PR.

So Izuku has a special diet and Regimen he’s on so he can bulk up and handle One For All better. 

So Living in a dorm would highlight this to the rest of the class. 

So I present :

“Little Izuku Things”

  •  Who keeps moving my fish oil.
  • I’m sorry i can’t have simple sugars this week
  • i’m sorry i woke you up moving around at 4 in the morning i have to go for a run before i can do my morning work out.
  • Stop eating my calcium and drink the milk its going bad and i’m not going to drink it because i doesn’t have nearly enough for my diet
  • *alarm goes off* ITS MULTI-VITAMIN TIME
  • Stop moving my fish oil i need to take it 4 times a day and i can’t if you keep MOVING IT PLEASE ITS GOOD FOR CLEANING OUT MY SYSTEM
  • Thank you for making dinner for me too BUT ITS A PROTEIN DAY IM SO SORRY.

Nothing like running a half marathon to boost your body image. 

I have been feeling great all week despite the craziness called life. My students started state testing this week, so things have been all over the place.

Thank goodness for Girls on the Run (GOTR) because it’s the only reason I was able to workout Monday and today. I have also been tracking my macros a lot better lately, except I totally just ate four, yes four, servings of cereal with almond milk. It’s fine. Carb loading?

Okay, that’s all I have for now since I am technically working. 

PS - My legs look freaking great in those pants. 

pyjamayoghurt  asked:

I know you get a lot of asks about eating/shopping on a budget, but I looked through your blog (super helpful, btw) and couldn't find this one specifically. I am moving out soon and have estimated that I'll have about $70/mo for groceries. I'm type 1 diabetic and while I don't have any restrictions per se, I do prefer to keep it low carb. Unfortunately, carbs seem to be top of the cheap foods list (beans, rice, ramen, etc). Any advice on keeping a balanced, low carb diet when you're broke?

Hello! You’re right, the cheapest foods are usually carb-loaded! $70/mo sounds really, really hard and would likely be a struggle even if you had no dietary restrictions. Are there any food assistance programs in your area that you’d be willing to try? It sounds like you might qualify for SNAP/EBT.

That being said, some low(ish)-cost, lower carb foods are eggs, canned chicken, canned fish (tuna, sardines, and salmon), canned chili with meat, canned soup, tofu, peanut butter, and full-fat dairy products. Unfortunately, these are all going to be more expensive than your typical cheap dry carbs and starches.

If you have a freezer and eat meat, buy chicken, meat, and ground meat on sale and freeze it!

In order to save, maybe you can try eating one carb-heavy meal per day and try to keep the other 2 lower-carb? If you can, try to make sure you’re eating protein, vegetables, fruit, some carbs, and dairy or calcium-rich foods, at least most days.

Take care, hope this is helpful!– Mimi

FML (Tadashi X Reader)

This story is based on the following FML submission: 

Today, I called this girl I’ve had a crush on for 2 years to confess my love to her. However, as she picked up the phone, I got so nervous that I froze and couldn’t say a word. I was standing there, breathing heavily for 20 seconds. She got so freaked out that she threatened to call the police. FML.

(•–•) (•–•) (•–•)

            Tadashi sits on the edge of his bed, clutching his phone and chewing nervously at the inside of his thumb. The anxiety-filled man was currently fighting with the angel and the devil on his shoulder, trying to gather up the courage to call Y/N. She is a beautiful young woman, about to begin her first year at SFIT. The two had met when they were both in high school, Y/N being a wide-eyed freshman and Tadashi a confident junior. They quickly became best friends, but Tadashi wished for more than friendship from Y/N. This led the tall man to his current predicament: should he call and confess his love for Y/N, or should he continue his silence?

            Hiro groans and rolls his eyes at his mess of a brother. “Would you just call her already?! You’ve been staring at your phone for a solid twenty minutes, Tadashi.”

            “What if I freak her out? What if she doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t want to ruin our friendship over this, Hiro. She probably doesn’t like me. Yeah, no, I can’t do this,” the older boy pulls off his hat and runs his fingers through his matted down hair.

            “You can and you will call her, ‘cause I am sick and tired of you always talking about ‘Y/N this’ and ‘Y/N that’ and moping around every time a different boy gets up the nerve to ask her out on a date and she says yes,” The younger Hamada crosses his arms over his chest, “Now, do you need me to call her for you or are you going to grow up and do it yourself?”

            Tadashi huffs, firmly placing his hat back on his head. He pulls up your contact in his phone, and hits the call button next to your number. He nods confidently as the phone wrings, sure he’s got this one in the bag. He’s sure that 1000%, without a doubt, you’re going to say that you felt the same way and had been waiting for him to finally make his move. Hell yeah. I AM the man. His confidence crashes when he hears you pick up the line.

            “Hey, Tadashi, What’s up?” He can hear your smile on the other end, but feels as if he’s suddenly frozen. “Are you alright Tadashi?” His nerves have taken control, and all he’s doing is breathing.


            Into the phone.

            “Tadashi, is that you?”

            Breathing, breathing, breathing.

            “Okay, well, whoever the fuck you are, you’re really freaking me out.” There’s no answer, just breathing. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m calling the fucking cops, asshole.” Much to your relief, the person who called you hangs up and the line goes dead.

            “What was that all about?” your roommate, Honey Lemon, steps out of the kitchen and slides into her spot on the couch next to you. She hands you a mug of hot chocolate and takes a sip of her own, looking curiously at you. You were still shaking after the terrifying phone call, so you did something very out of character for you.

            You burst into tears.

 (•–•) (•–•) (•–•)

            “Wow,” Hiro says, slack-jawed and staring at the train wreck he was apparently related to. “You know, I don’t think that could have gone much worse. Yep, I’m pretty sure that was definitely the worst possible outcome for that phone call.” He spins his desk chair away from his computer to look at Tadashi. The older boy is now leaning against his bed, long legs sprawled out in front of him, hat off once again and fingers tangling their way through his now unruly hair.

            “I would appreciate it if you would stop talking,” Tadashi seethes. Groaning, he rakes his fingers down his face. “God, how did I fuck that up so bad? I froze up and now she thinks I’m a psychopathic loser. She’ll never want to talk to me again.” Tadashi covers his face with his hands and sighs.

            “So what are you gonna do about it?” Hiro says, wheeling his chair over to his moping older brother.

            “Nothing. I told you, she’ll never want to talk to me again.”

            “Y’know, for someone who’s so smart, you’re really stupid sometimes. She obviously likes you: she gets all blushy and nervous and weird around you, just like you do when you’re around her. It’s gross,” Hiro sticks a finger in his mouth and pretends to gag. “But anyways, you should go talk to her before she gets a restraining order against you or something.”

            Tadashi flushes at the thought of you being nervous around him. Could you really be into a total nerd like Tadashi? He rises from his slouch on the floor, picking up his phone and keys from the bedside table. He ruffles Hiro’s hair, grabs his bike helmet, and quickly and stealthily rushes down the stairs, successfully avoiding any and all questions from Aunt Cass about where he was going this late at night. It was only 10:00, but that was practically midnight to his aunt. He knew he could make it to your apartment by 10:30 if he hustled, so without further hesitation he jumped on his scooter and left his home behind.

(•–•) (•–•) (•–•)

            Honey Lemon opens the door to find a breathless Hamada brother on the other side instead of the pizza delivery guy she was expecting. Tadashi can faintly hear (Your favorite Disney movie) playing from inside the apartment.

            “Hey,” he says, awkwardly waving at the blonde girl, who does not seem particularly happy with him, judging by the piercing glare she’s sending his way.

            “What the hell was that?” She says in a harsh whisper. She steps outside of the apartment and closes the door until it is almost shut so you won’t be able to hear the conversation. Her eyes were alight with a fury he had never encountered from the normally bubbly girl.

            “I freaked out, okay? I was calling to ask Y/N if she wanted to go out with me, but I freaked out and blew it. I had to come talk to her in person because I screwed everything up. Does she hate me now?” Tadashi rubs the back of his neck nervously.

            “I have no idea, it took me a solid ten minutes to get the story out of her because she was crying so hard. Crying, Tadashi. Y/N. She literally never cries,” Honey Lemon speaks quietly, not wanting you to overhear the conversation.

            Tadashi has never felt like more of an asshole in his entire life, and pleads with Honey Lemon to let him talk to you. Sighing, She steps away from the door and allows the boy to enter.

            He slips off his shoes and steps lightly into the clean apartment, which smells faintly like vanilla and has white Christmas lights and photographs on the walls. He lightly runs his fingers over a large, framed picture of the two of you that was taken at your high school graduation in the spring. You were wearing a (your school color) robe and his San Fransokyo Ninjas hat, while he wore a light blue shirt, grey cardigan, and your graduation cap on his head. You were both laughing in the photo, arms happily wrapped around each other. He had a copy of the same photo sitting on his desk at home. Smiling at the photograph, he walked into the living room.

            You’re too enraptured by the movie to pay attention to who had walked into the room. You turn, expecting to see Honey Lemon holding a box full of carb-loaded-love, but instead find the man you’ve been in love with since you moved to San Fransokyo. Now, four years later, with him leaning against the wall in your apartment, you were startled to say the least, judging by the ice cream carton that had slipped out of your hand and was now all over your blanket. Noticing the stream of melted vanilla snaking its way from the carton seems to shake you from your stupor. You see Tadashi leave the room and come back moments later with a wad of paper towels, dropping to his knees in front of you and wiping the gooey mess off your blanket. Sitting back on his heels, he looks up at you.

            “Hey,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

            “Hey,” you repeat, your guard still up after the night’s strange events.

            “So, um, I want to apologize for scaring you out earlier. The truth is, I was, uh, I was calling to tell you that I really, really, like you, but instead I froze up and freaked you out. Jesus, Y/N, it’s just–damn, you make me so nervous–” Tadashi’s nervous tirade is cut short by your soft lips pressing against his cheek. A blush blossoms across his cheek and reddens his ears.

            “You are the biggest dork I’ve ever met, Tadashi,” you murmur, taking his hand. “I think I’m in love with you.”

            “Y/N, I want to kiss you.”

            “Well, what’s stopping you?”

(•–•) (•–•) (•–•) 

A/N: Hey Guys! So that was the first fic I’ve ever published: I hope you liked it! I would love to take any sort of request or idea you’ve got (although, I am a kinda slow writer)! Thanks for reading!

Nice to Meet You -4-

A/N: I’ve been in the middle of finals which is why I’ve been gone for so long :( sorry

Your accounting firm was in a large building situated nicely in downtown Gotham. Its location made for a beautiful view of the Gotham skyline as well as a dangerous journey home for anyone who didn’t watch their surroundings at night. Your bosses were pretty lenient as well. You supposed they fancied themselves the ‘modern’ sort. They opted for a set up without cubicles and instead built office floors with standing desks and the occasional bean bag chair, and kept the kitchen stocked with an abundance of free-trade artisan coffee.

As you leaned carefully on of the thick glassed window-walls that allowed you to see the skyline, you flicked through your phone. Taking a sip of the cardboard cupped latte in your hand, you opened your Instagram app. Camille had been officially on maternity leave for two days, and while from the pictures she posted showed that she couldn’t have been happier, you were slightly miserable. It wouldn’t be right to say you were completely lonely, you’d gotten used to being alone and dealing with the reality of the alienated city life, but it was her that you missed. More accurately what you missed was quietly giggling to each other while the two of you people watched, mostly in a judgmental fashion. It was all in good fun for the most part through, most of the people that worked on your floor you liked. You may not have been the most social person, but you appreciated the fact that many here would have been willing to listen if you had told them your problem.

You feel your lips pull down in a pout as another picture of Camille and her husband pops up on screen, this time his large hand placed lovingly on her rounded belly while she kissed his cheek and slyly peeked at the camera.

“All right, this is sickening,” you say as you hastily put your phone to sleep and slip it into the pocket of your blue blazer.

You turn your gaze out to the window again as you sip your coffee. Your eyes scan over the tall skyscrapers and then something out of the ordinary clicks in your mind. A familiarity works its way to the front of your brain while the word weaves itself deftly to the back.



It was involuntary really, the contact that your free palm made with your forehead, but well deserved.

“Oh, I’m an idiot.”


Majority of the time Bruce Wayne would say that he tried his best to run his company, well as well as he could, given his double life.  He remembered the names of his secretaries for the most part, but he supposed that was from doing thorough background checks on the people whom worked so close to his office rather than actually caring anything about them personally. The people whose names that he couldn’t quiet remember he would greet with a charming smile and enough attention throughout the year that many of his employees thought that working for Bruce Wayne “wasn’t so bad.” He even did his best to keep his eyes open during board meetings, he didn’t succeed most of the time but he always gave an effort.

However, there was one thing that he could care less about, paperwork. Hold up in lavish office, with a stack of files that needed his signature or documents that needed proper reviewing, he could not begin to give one iota of a fuck about what they said. In fact, for the past ten minutes he’d been hypnotized by the bouncing screensaver on his computer, something that he found vastly more appealing than the work he had to do.

So, it was a relief when he felt the vibration of his cellphone on his thigh. He pulled the phone from his pocket and felt his brow furrow at the unknown number, however he answered it anyway.


“So, you’re a pretty big deal, aren’t you?”

His eyes widened at the voice before he let and easy smile slide its way across his lips. When he left the coffee shop the other night he hadn’t been expecting a call, and was happy that he hadn’t given his number out in vain.

“Oh, what makes you say that?”

“Your big stupid name plastered on the tallest skyscraper in the middle of downtown Gotham.”

“Oh, so you noticed that, did you?” he said as he leaned back in his computer chair, paperwork forgotten. “If it makes it better, I didn’t design the building this way. My dad did.”

“So, then your dad was the egomaniac.”


“Hmm, and you willingly admit this?”

“I’m not one to hide things about my family.”

“What about yourself?”

“That’s a completely different story.”

“I Imagine, maybe I can work out some of the things you’d like to hide about yourself over dinner.”

He stood up and left his desk, slightly startled by the forwardness of the suggestion.

“Why not?”

“Good you can pick me up from work, I get off at 6.”

“You aren’t going to tell me where to pick you up from?”

“Use that brain of yours. I told you what I do and you know that I can see you or your building at least, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

The smirk was so present in tone that the only way that it could have been more real would have been if he could see it in person.

“Let’s see then.”


Bruce walked over to one of the large paned windows that opened to give him a more than lovely view of the city. While there were many accounting firms that dotted the city, there were few that garnered an unobstructed view of Wayne Enterprises. He caught the glimpse of a building that laid off to the right. A tall dark building decorated with gargoyles on its ledges. Ledges that he had often used to het a vantage point on the city. He also recognized it from a time when his father took him their when he was younger. Wayne Enterprises had its own accountants but Thomas Wayne had taught him the need to interact with the establishment, if only so you don’t piss them off.

“You don’t seem like the type of person who’d work out at Wessler and Burns,” He said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “To many suits.”

“You’re right. I went in for an interview and I left with a restraining order. They call for new blood but when that blood has a cleavage the old farts can’t seem to keep their eyes to themselves. No offense, I know you’re not too far behind in the age range.”

“I’m wondering if I should be offended. The youngest person with any value there is sixty.”

“What are you? Fifty-Five?”

“I’m definitely wondering if we should be going on this date.”

“Don’t worry Bruce, I’m sure your old bones to can keep up with this young’un.”

“The question is can you keep up with me?”

“Who knows, I’ve been out of practice for a while.”

“Don’t worry I haven’t.”

“You old dog,” she said with chuckle in her voice, “Have you figured it out yet?”

“I think so,” he stated as his eyes caught a glimpse at relatively new building that faced his own.

“Good, because my break is over and flirting with an old man doesn’t pay the bills.”

“I imagine it doesn’t”

“Bye Bruce.”


The phone hung up.

Carlisle and Preston accounting was a young firm for the city, having been there for about two years. It had sprung up on the west coast about ten years ago, and with an unusual swiftness for an accounting firm, opened multiple branches up and down the coast. This branch was the first on the east coast, and had likely brought Bruce Wayne’s date with it to the city. He’d found their unusual productivity strange, but there was nothing obvious or seemingly hidden that could be attributed to the success of the firm. Research had only turned up, that the CEOs Michael Carlisle and Jonathan Preston, regularly showed up at firms across the country and interacted as much as they could with their clients on a personal level. A relaxed working environment dedicated to the needs of the needs of workers in the 21st century made the seemingly boring profession more ‘sexy.’

He leaned against his car, parked in front of the entrance of the building, hoping to catch a glimpse of the form that captured his interest.

“So, you actually found it with your old man eyes.”

The snarky familiar voice caught his attention as he saw the woman that he had been waiting for. He looked to his right and saw her approach, seemingly coming from a side exit rather than the front entrance.

“Well, my building is the tallest in the city so even I can see something.”

She smiled and then he noticed that her eyes flicked over his outfit.

“I hope we aren’t going anywhere too fancy I am slightly underdressed.”

He looked at her, blue blazer with a white blouse and jeans to match. If he took her to any of his usual establishments she would stick out like a sore thumb, they’d think he took her out as a charity case.

“True,” he said thinking about their situation.

“There’s not an Olive Garden in Gotham, is there?”

“What is that?”

She stared at him blankly, eyebrow raised lips quirked down at the ends.

“You may be too rich for me.”

“That has never been a problem for me.”

“I imagine,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Listen, for now coffee will be our thing. And over said coffee we will eat small pastries and half-cooked microwaved breakfast sandwiches while I extol you the value of cheap carb loaded cardboard tasting Italian food and the like.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“Trust me, when I’m done with you you’ll be addicted to breadsticks the same way most of middle America is.”

“That doesn’t seem factu-”

“Shhh, don’t question it,” She said as she made her way to the passenger side of his car. “Just let it happen.”

Ficlet: Material Girl

I had a couple of anons asking for Harry spending his popstar money on Nick when I made a call for prompts for Wednesday Night Drabbles/Ficlets. The drabbles/ficlets (so far all ficlets, definitely not drabbles) didn’t all get delivered on the evening, and I still have a couple more to post. If you’re interested the first three are Chicken and Chips (Louis/Nick), Always You (Harry/Nick) and Straight Through Crew (Louis/Nick). 

I feel like Harry doesn’t buy Nick nearly enough things in this to qualify for his sugar daddy status, but I hope the anons that wanted Harry spending money on Nick like the fic nonetheless. Thank you for prompting! 

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  • Vic: Anything for you? Shouldn't you be carb-loading or whatever?
  • Zak: Aye, have some chips. Get him a pint.
  • Aaron: No, I'm fine. So, is this some old-school training thing? You trying to make it especially hard for me?
  • Zak: Look, I'm just trying to get you to relax a bit, lad. Life's not all about running around.
  • Aaron: Is this the same bloke from yesterday who was shouting at me like the old gimmer used to do at Rocky.
  • Zak: And look what happened to Rocky.
  • Aaron: He became a multiple world champion.
  • Zak: What? He can hardly speak, though, can he?
  • Aaron: No, you're getting the film and the... Zak, what's going on here? Are you getting bored of this?
  • Zak: Aye, yeah, that's it, I am a bit, you know.
  • Aaron: Right. It#s just I don't believe you.
  • Zak: Look, it's just that... the thing is that... sometimes, I think you take things, you know, to the extreme, like the running. Now I am worried that it might happen again with this.
  • Aaron: You're worried?
  • Zak: I am.
  • Aaron: You and who else?
  • Zak: What do you mean?
  • Aaron: I don't know how I can ask that any simpler.
  • Zak: Well... it were Robert who brought it up, but I'm certain he's got your best interest at heart.