she brings him a coffee

Some Unholy War

Part 1 of MMA Fighter!Tom AU 

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Ultimate fighter Tom Holland walks into a diner at two in the morning and finds something more than greasy eggs and dusty bar stools. 

Warnings: swearing, violence (lots of it, Tom is an ultimate fighter)

Word Count: 4500


Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next part! And please tell me if you like it I need constant validation

Send in requests here

It was the graveyard shift at the diner, and the only people that came in at this time were the tweakers and those just getting off of their own shifts. It was almost two in the morning when Tom walked in.

He couldn’t help but notice the tired sparkle in her eyes when she took his order. She swayed her hips a little when she got the coffee he asked for, the small white apron tied tight around her waist, the short blue and white dress left almost nothing to Tom’s imagination. If it were up to her, Y/N would have dressed in more modest clothing, at least a dress that reached the middle of her thigh, and none of these stockings, because she found herself having to continuously pull them up throughout her shift.

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Don’t Say Anything (part 2)

Summary: You finally decide to tell Bucky that you’ve been in love with him since the day you met but what happens when you walk in on him with a girl? And not just any girl; Natasha.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst my friends, sadness

A/N: Here’s part twooooooo! Enjoy! Also, who has my notifications on? I’m curious.

You run back to your room, hoping that Wanda had left so that she wouldn’t see you about to break down. You thank the heavens above when she’s nowhere inside your room and lock the door, throwing yourself on your bed. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a sob. Then another. And another. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cried so hard.

Of course he’s With Natasha. Beautiful, skilled, badass Natasha. You were just his friend. Why did you think you could ever be more than a friend to Bucky?

You couldn’t believe what you just saw only moments ago. It was all so surreal. How did you not know about the two of them? How did you not catch on? Were you really that oblivious?

The image of Natasha and Bucky making out on his bed appears in your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut, crying some more. You should have made a move a long time ago. Maybe then everything would be different.

What are you thinking? Of course it wouldn’t. He’d still choose Natasha no matter what. Why would he chose a 1 over a 10? You’ve always felt like you weren’t good enough. Growing up, you were always someone’s second choice and if not - Third.

You thought Bucky liked you back. At least a little bit. He’d always take you out for milkshakes or lunch - sometimes dinner. The two of you would be cooped up in his room with blankets and pillows watching Disney movies and singing along to every song. He’d always remind you how beautiful you looked (even if you just woke up and you looked like a zombie raccoon). Was that him just being a good friend?

Of course it was. He could never like you more than just a friend.

You had to get over him and fast. He’s happy with Natasha and you don’t want to ruin that. All you’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. So, you decide to distance yourself from him in hopes that the crush goes away.

You hope it goes away.

The next day you walk into the kitchen, eyes burning from crying the night before. Everyone was in the kitchen, getting ready for the day while you decided on being a log and staying in your room.

“You look like trash.” Sam comments and you glare at him.

“Shut up, she looks beautiful.” Bucky comes over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

You take a sneak look at Nat before shrugging his arm off of you, continuing to walk over to the fridge. You pull out the milk, grab a bowl and open the pantry, scanning for the cereal that you wanted. It took a minute but you saw it and it was pushed back on the shelf. What kind of sick monster does that?

With a huff you get on your tip toes, trying to reach for the box but fail miserably. Suddenly, a hand wraps itself around your waist and you gasp, seeing Bucky smiling at you. He reaches up and grabs the box before handing it to you.

“Saw you having some trouble, doll, thought I’d be your knight in shining armor.” he says with a wink. You fight the urge to smile. Why was he so damn cute? What kind of sorcery was this?

“Thanks.” you murmur, turning away and making your cereal. You don’t see the confusion on Bucky’s face. You’d usually say something silly back but you couldn’t. Not while knowing that him and Natasha were a thing.

“Baby doll,” Bucky says softly, coming up next to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” you shrug, pouring your cereal in then the milk.

“Well did I do something to upset you?” yes. “You’re acting different.”

You sigh. “I just don’t feel good today, Buck.”

“Is there anything I can-”

“Hey guys.” Nat smiled.

“Hey Nat.” Bucky responds. You grab a spoon and put it in your bowl after putting everything away.

“Y/N, how’d it go with the guy that you like? Wanda told me you went to tell him that you like him yesterday.” she smiled, bringing her cup of coffee to her lips.

Bucky looks over at you. “You like someone?”

“More like she’s in love with this guy. I’ve never seen her so smitten before.” Natasha chuckled.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. Was he.. Jealous? No, he couldn’t be. He had no reason to be. He was with Natasha for Pete’s sake! You brush it off as the little hope you were hanging onto.

“ Uh.. Yeah I went to tell him that I like him but it turns out he only sees me as a friend and he has a girlfriend. I guess I’ve been misinterpreting his kind gestures this whole time.” you respond, picking your bowl up.

“What an asshole.” she huffed. “Tell me who he is so I can kick his ass. Maybe that’ll knock some sense into him.”

You tuck your hair behind your ear. Little does she know that the ‘asshole’ is standing right in front of her. “No it’s fine. I was stupid to think he’d like someone like me.”

“You’re crazy.” Bucky spoke. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

That guy is you.

You give him a small smile before sighing. “It’s whatever.”

“What are you doing today?” the red head asks.

“Nothing. Just gonna stay in my room and watch movies.” you shrug.

“What? No! Please tell me you’re not gonna sulk over this guy.” Bucky says. “He’s an idiot!”

You take a bite of your cereal.

“Go take a shower, get dressed and I’ll take you to Coney Island or something. Maybe the zoo? I know how much you love animals.” he adds.

You shake your head. “Bucky no.”

“Bucky yes.” he smiled. “Go on, get ready.” you stare at him, giving him your best puppy dog face and he chuckles. “That’s not gonna work this time. Go.”

You groan, dragging yourself to your room while shoveling cereal in your mouth. So much for distancing yourself.

A/N: Here you goooooo. Tell me what ya think!


@your-puddin @heismyhunter @buchananbarnestrash @live-in-the-now10 @jcb2k16 @plumqueenbucky @thefandomplace @chocolatereignz @blueberry-pens @professionally-crazed @idk-something-amazing-i-guess @almondbuttercup @janetgenea @buckysmetallicstump @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @rvb-and-marvel-shit @ouatalways @winterboobaer @thyotakukimkim @hattnco @millaraysuyai @themercurialmadhatter @miss-jessi29 @snakesgoethe @helloitsgrc @welcometothecasmofsar @aboxinthestars @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @fandommaniacx @hatterripper31 @coffeeismylife28 @bunchofandoms @bobabucky @under-dah-sea @amrita31199 @sebstanthemanxo @mrs-brxghtside @erinvanlyssel @amistillmyself @buckyandsebsinbin @ballerinafairyprincess @spnhybrid @marvel-fanfiction @queen–valeskaxx @bucky-with-the-metal-arm @sophia-wyszkowski @sebstantrashx @kenobi-and-barnes @softwintersoldier @stevette60 @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes

His Replacement | Harrison Osterfield

Summary: Tom Holland hires a new assistant after Harrison Osterfield lands the role as the next Harry Osborn in the upcoming Marvel films and Harrison finds himself fancying his replacement a lot more than he expected…

Warning: swearing

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader

Type: Oneshot

Requested: multiple anonymous people

A/N: I actually combined four anonymous requests for this oneshot just to make it a better plot. I thought the four would go nicely together. Hope you all enjoy it!


Originally posted by tomhollandandtessa

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Florist and Tattoo Shop au

•Matt’s 23

•He’s basically been running the family florist business since his dad retired two years ago.

•Matt has HUGE dreams, but he’s content

•the shop has an upstairs where he lives, and a huge greenhouse in the backyard

•Katie likes to sit in the shop while he’s working and talk about her day.

•She also usually brings him coffee on her way back from school

•Other florists include: Shay (19), Nyma (22), and Coran.

•Shay likes the greenhouse the most

•Nyma always wears maxi skirts with beautiful designs and patterns on them.

•Across the street, a tattoo shop opens up.

•The tattoo shop boasts original art and safe procedures.

•Coran also mentions his extremely fabulous niece, Allura, works there. They close up early just to go see the tattoo shop as a pack.

•The tattoo shop includes main artist Takashi Shirogane (25) and piercer Allura (20)

•Matt can’t stop staring at Shiro he’s embarrassing

•A couple of days later Matt decides the only way he can talk to Shiro is to get a tattoo


•Katie decides to go with him since Matt is a huge baby

•Shiro shows him his portfolio

•Matt picks out an intricate flower design for his ribs

•he’s literally crying before the needle touches his skin

•once Shiro starts though, Matt calms down and decides it’s not that bad

•He’s not getting a 2nd one tho

•after tattoo day, Shiro comes into the flower shop to look for Matt and ask him out

•Matt is in the back pretending to wrap flowers and is instead icing his new tattoo that hurts like a bitch

•Shiro buys a huge bouquet, and then gives them to Matt and asks him out.

•Matt agrees

•And then promptly tells him yellow flowers represent friendship, not romance

The Doctor’s Crush | Spencer Reid

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning(s): None

Requested by anonymous: Hey! :) I saw in your writing list that you write for Criminal Minds so I was wondering if you could one with my bae Reid? Maybe something where they work together and he’s got a major crush on her ‘cause she’s all nice and sweet and always listens to him instead of stopping him like the others do? I leave it up to you. Thank you so much, you’re great!

A/N: Oh my God, first Reid fic ever and I loved it so much. Spencer is the most precious little cinnamon roll and I adore him! Let’s all agree he’s pure perfection, okay? I actually spotted a few more requests for him in my inbox. Can’t wait to work with them! 😍 Lots of love and kisses to all of you.

(Sorry I couldn’t resist the temptation, look at that adorable face! Ugh! 💘)

And here he was yet again, waiting for her outside her apartment building. God, could time go by any slower? He hadn’t seen her in like what; three days?

That’s far too long, much longer than he was used to. Two years it had been since she joined the team and he got to know her. And after knowing her, there was no going back.

He could remember the first days of their working together. They hadn’t really exchanged many words, mostly because duty called on them before they got a chance to. But one day she passed by his office and she smiled at him, just a smile, and he came crashing to the ground. Seeing her made his day a million times better, he couldn’t explain what it was but when he was around her he felt like he could breathe.

Then, naturally, came the conversations. Awkward was quite an understatement when it came to describing Spencer while engaging in any kind of social discourse, he could barely have a decent, human conversation with the others.

He would either stutter or endlessly ramble about one thing after the other. Never mind, he still did that. But she was so nice and sweet and she hadn’t once seemed annoyed and disappointed by his odd nature.

And one day -a moment forever engraved on his mind-, she just walked up to him bringing him coffee, or sugar with a hint of coffee as she’d call it, and listened to him ramble about their latest case. Yeah, that was when he knew his heart belonged to (Y/N Y/L/N) the sweetest and kindest person on earth.

Of course, he dared not to make a move on her. What was he thinking, falling in love with her? He was nowhere on her radar. She deserved so much better than he could ever offer.

He had no plans to tell her how he felt, why would he, there was no reason for her to reciprocate them. Besides, he would hate himself if their relationship was ruined. They had grown to be best friends, spending almost every day together.

And now he was waiting outside her door, anxiously anticipating the moment that he would get to see his lovely (y/n) again and cherish her gorgeous smile as while he keeps on going on about a million random things that cross his mind. That’s why he always looked forward to their rides with the bus together. There, he could finally get her all to himself.

The building door opened and he saw a young woman walking out the door with (y/n) joining her outside. They seemed to exchange a couple words before hugging once and then the girl walked away with a tiny smile on her face. (Y/N) spotted Spencer immediately and hurried down the steps to meet him.

“Who was that?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I don’t know. She was having a horrible day though,” she whispered with a small frown disturbing her features. Like talking to a stranger and hugging them is the most normal thing to do. All he could do was smirk at her adorable quirks.

“So you just took the time to listen to a stranger having a bad day and she got a hug from you?” he emphasized on the hug part. The concept of being so affectionate with a complete stranger sent shivers down his spine.

How odd. Before meeting her, he used to have a hard time to even shake hands with anyone but now there was nothing he wouldn’t do to earn a hug from her.

“Why not? I’ve seen her before, I think. She must live here too. Want a cookie?” she turned and flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Sure. Did you know that chocolate chip cookies were invented by the American chef Ruth Graves Wakefield in 1938? She invented the recipe during the period when she owned the Toll House Inn - which at the time as a popular restaurant that featured home cooking…”

and i think to myself (what a wonderful world)

Written for Day 7 of NurseyDex Week 2017 - “Future NurseyDex”

The twins are talking to each other over the baby monitor.

Spooned around his back in a long line of heat, Will tightens his arms briefly, then bites Derek’s shoulder. “Your kids are awake,” he mumbles.

Derek cracks his eyes open, looks at the clock, and then groans, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “Before seven a.m. on a Saturday? Fuck no. Those are your kids.”

Will snorts into his shoulder. “Funny how that works,” he says.

Neither of them move. Over the monitor, Sara jabbers something in baby gibberish, and Omie giggles and talks back. They’re happy, silly kids, as content to talk to each other as they are to spend any time with any of the rest of the family. Still, they’ll need to be changed, and eventually they’ll start whining for breakfast.

Will seems to come to the same conclusion. He pokes Derek’s shin with his bare toes. “Hey,” he says. “If you get up first and let me sleep for another, I’ll eat you out tonight after the kids go to bed.”

“No deal,” Derek says, not opening his eyes. “You’ll do that anyway.”

There’s a huff of a laugh against his neck. “Fair,” Will admits. “But also, like. I got up with them last week?”

“I’m sorry, are you bitching about parenting your children right now?”

“No, I’m bitching that my spouse gets his beauty rest and I haven’t seen the cool side of a pillow after seven-thirty for like, four months.”

Derek rolls over in Will’s arms. “Tough life, buddy,” he says, layering on the saccharine sarcasm. “I’m sorry that your beautiful, loving husband–”

“I already regret this rant,” Will sighs, slinging his arm over Derek’s waist.

“–who literally lives to do nothing but make you happy, who slaved over a hot uterus to give you the children that you now take for granted–”

Will groans, picks up his pillow, and hits Derek in the face with it. Derek cackles and retaliates, grabbing his own. A brief scuffle ensues, and then Will seems to get bored, throwing his pillow aside, taking Derek’s, and leans over him to kiss him, low and deep. Derek hums into it, pleased, and lets Will press him down into the pillow, pressing his fingertips into the bruises he put on Will’s hips last night.

“Dada!” Sara sing-songs over the monitor. “Dada!”

“Baba!” Omie echoes. “Dada-Baba!”

“Three outta five callin’ for you,” Derek says. “Out ya go, buddy.”

Will groans, dropping his face into Derek’s shoulder. “I regret that you ever got good at math,” he sighs, but puts a smacking kiss on Derek’s cheek and gets up.

“Bye,” Derek says, making a cheerful show of re-wrapping himself around his pillow. Will slaps his ass, and Derek grunts. “Don’t start shit you won’t finish, Poindexter.”

“That’s Poindexter-Nurse to you,” Will says.

“You’re damn right,” Derek says. Will smacks his ass again, and then pads out of their bedroom. A few minutes later, Derek hears the twins break out in delighted babbling as Will walks into their room. Smiling, he closes his eyes. He’s still sleepy enough that it’s not long before the warm morning sunlight and the softness of the pillow starts to pull him back down. He can hear Will talking to the babies, can hear them giggling back.

He must fall back into a doze, because the next time he wakes, he smells coffee. It’s close enough that his attention perks, and he picks up his head, basically nose-first, just in time for the bedroom door to open.

Yasmin pokes her head in. “Baba? Are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” he says.

Her face lights up in a smile, and she shuffles into the room. She has a mug carefully held in both hands. “Daddy said to bring you coffee,” she tells him solemnly, coming over to the bed in her Princess Jasmine nightgown.

Derek raises his eyebrows. That’s not Will’s style. “How nice of him,” he says. “Did you sleep well, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” She comes to the bed and puts the mug carefully on his bedside table, and then climbs up into his lap when he sits up. Derek kisses her mussed curls, and she giggles. “Me and the babies were playing with the cats.”

“Yeah?” Derek wraps an arm around her to keep her steady on his lap. “And what did Guinevere think about that?”

Guinevere is their aging golden retriever. She’s immensely tolerant, and the kids adore her, but she’s less exciting than the two cats, Ophelia (or, these days, Ophie) and Puck.

“She didn’t mind. I petted her ears, so.” She pokes his shoulder. “Are you gonna drink your coffee?”

Derek chuckles. “Yeah, sweetheart, thank you.”

He reaches over to the bedside table for the mug. It’s lighter than he expects, and when he lifts it closer to his mouth, he snorts–there’s barely a splash of coffee into it. He looks down at Yasmin, and finds her mouth curved up, a perfect miniature of Will’s smirk. “You,” he tells her, “are a little trickster, aren’t you?”

Yasmin’s smile broadens. “Maybe,” she says, with the crafty slyness only a seven-year-old can manage to make seem charming. Derek raises his eyebrows at her, sipping his meager mugful. “Daddy said to tell you ‘first one’s free.’”

Derek snorts into the cup. “Your daddy,” he says. “Is a menace.”

“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Daddy’s fun.”

“When he wants to be,” Derek allows. He squeezes her close, and then hoists her off his lap. “Alright, babes, off you go. Tell Daddy I’ll be down in a minute.”

She grins at him. “You’re not gonna go back to sleep?”

“I pinky promise I will not,” he says, and Yasmin giggles.

“Okay, Baba.” She takes his mug away from him, though, because she’s Will’s child at heart and therefore knows all the best ways to chirp at him.

Derek gets out of bed, reaching for the sweatpants he’d tossed to the end of the bed last night. He pulls them on over his boxers, and then he gets to his feet. Yasmin stretches her arms up for him, and Derek chuckles, hoisting her up into his arms.

“Alright, big strong girl,” he says. “Should we go downstairs and see Daddy and the babies?”

“We have to,” she says, faux-solemn. “That’s the only way Daddy’ll give you more coffee.”

Derek laughs, and kisses his daughter’s cheek, and goes to start the day.

Tales of Miss Fortune(Part 2)

Here we are folks, part 2. There is no sin in this, unfortunately, but we get a look at Marinette and Adrien’s daily lives. And a cliffhanger.

First | Next

It was a general agreement that Monday sucked. It was even more of an agreement that Monday mornings, specifically, sucked even more. In fact, it was common knowledge that Monday mornings were the moment when most hopes and dreams died. And when there was a Monday morning at the Agreste Headquarters, well, that was when all aspirations, happiness, self-esteem, and trust went down the gutter. Adrien’s included. He tried to put his best professional face to show that he was a very equilibrated man, who gets a full night rest and is nothing short of a responsible adult and a perfect CEO for the Agreste fashion empire. As he walked confidently through the building, the employees were greeting him with that usual air of ‘shit, that’s the boss’, so he assumed his façade was working.

(Honestly, was he that scary? He certainly hoped not.)

When he was finally in the privacy of his office, he let his head fall on the table as he groaned miserably. He had a night from hell. Not only was he left with a boner, but also tied to a chair. And it was very hard to try to get out of that death grip without knocking the candle overs and setting the whole Louvre on fire. He arrived home exhausted and only managed to get two hours of sleep. And just when the sleep was the sweetest that’s when his alarm decided to wake him up. Hell knows the dark circles under his eyes were only hidden because of that luxurious concealer he was wearing. Whining again softly, he rested his cheek against his desk considering taking a nap right that second. But of course, he didn’t have the chance. A cup of coffee and a bag with a pastry were put in front of him. And if there was one thing he loved more than sleep it was food. His head shot up immediately.

“A café noisette and a croissant with extra butter.” Marinette Dupain-Cheng declared. As he dug in his breakfast, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “And just in time. 9:15.”

“I never knew you were a morning person.” he remarked in between two sips of coffee.

“Oh, I’m not a morning person. I just had a very busy night and just didn’t go to sleep at all.” she said with a satisfied smirk.

Busy night? She must have worked on designs, Adrien thought. Marinette was, after all, an amazing designer. He had been impressed with her portfolio when she applied for the internship and he decided there was no way he would let her carry the coffee and lunch orders of everybody in the design department for the year long period of the internship. Well, she was still bringing him coffee, yes, but she was also able to work on her designs whenever she was done with the tasks he was giving her. And he knew all too well how cut throat the fashion industry was and how sabotage and mental games worked when it came to newcomers. And while Marinette was a force to be reckoned with, he would rather save her all that trouble. He had been dealing with those things since he began to walk, he would rather not have anybody go through the same thing if he could help it.

“So, what’s on today’s agenda?” Marinette asked as he finished his croissant.

“Just arrange the schedule for the week and then you are free to design. If anything else comes up, I’ll tell you.”

Marinette nodded with a smile, moving to her desk on the other side of the great room. Adrien finished his coffee, depositing the bag and the empty cup in the trash bin under his desk and decided to try his best to focus on work. The coffee had helped a little, but not enough to make up for all the lost hours of sleep. A low tune filled the air and his eyes slipped to Marinette, who got to work already while humming a familiar tune. It sounded like the last Jagged Stone hit. Ah, Marinette had really great taste in music. And video games. And fashion. And food. And… everything really. She was a very efficient assistant and just a lovely person to be around in general. Sometimes Adrien wished he had a friend like her. Huh, friend. He tilted his head, wondering if it was a good idea to ask.

“Hey, Marinette,” he called across the room, getting her attention. First name basis was something he insisted on. Monsieur Agreste sounded too much like his father and it was making him feel super weird. The only two instances when they used formal titles were when they were joking around or when they were in front of other people. “Do you… do you consider me a friend?”

Marinette blinked surprised and Adrien wanted to punch himself in the face for asking. Until her lips curled in a smirk and a mischevious glint appeared in her eyes. It almost gave him a feeling of deja vu, for whatever reason. “Oh, my, Monsieur Agreste, what an improper question. So unbusinesslike.” she teased, before she gave him a genuine smile. “Sure, Adrien. I can be your friend.”

“Thank you.” he breathed out, turning back to his work and missing the sad expression that took over her features.

“No need to thank me.” she said back with a fond smile.

Well, at least Marinette was considering him a friend. Her and the fluffy god of destruction currently sleeping in his pocket. What a squad. Sometimes he wished he would have went to school like everybody ese, and make friends who might have liked him for more than his money or looks. He never had that chance. And ever since his father died, well, being a CEO as we as a supe hero didn’t give him th chance to mingel. Adrien sighed and begann typing an email.

Maybe he will just have a peaceful day for once.

(Spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)

He and Marinette were just exiting the building, deciding to go to get some dinner, cause they will be stuck at work over the program yet again. That was when four police cars with the sirens ringing passed by fastly. Adrien wanted to scream. Seriously? Again? Didn’t Miss Fortune have a life to take care of that didn’t imply robbing every museum in Paris?

“I wonder what that is.” Marinette thought out loud.

“A robbery, most likely.” Adrien said, while checking his pocket for Plagg. “You know, Marinette, why don’t you just go home. I’m giving you a free night.”

“Wait, where are you… ?” she didn’t have the chance to ask because he already took off running.

“I just forgot something I need to take care off.” he called over his shoulder. “Have a nice evening!”

And with that he disappeared around the corner, leaving a very confused Marinette behind him.

As it turned out, it hadn’t been Miss Fortune this time. Just a gang trying to steal from a jewelry store. Honestly, the fight didn’t last that long, but they had the boss of the store and two employees taken as prisoners so he had to get them out first. Chat Noir dropped in a dark alley, making sure no one was around as he dropped his transformation. Catching a yawning Plagg in his hands he snorted.

“Me too, buddy. Let’s go home.” the kwami didn’t even bother to ask for cheese.

As he made his way out o the alley carefully, he didn’t notice the pair of striking blue eyes following his every move.

“My, my,” a sweet voice mocked. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

AU Challenge - Bughead

Thanks so much @allskynostars for sending this one through. This ended up being longer than I originally thought but hey, there you go.

I have a heap of these that I am working through (as well as working on my WIPS, sending you some stuff to look through @jandjsalmon tonight, promise) so it is going to take me a little time to get through them, so thank you for your patience.

12. Writer and Editor AU, Bughead

Write Me A Story

“Where’s that chapter, Jones?” Her voice was clear on the other end of the phone. Not even a greeting before cutting straight to business. He was willing for the reception to cut out as he drove up the winding road through remote forest to his safe haven, but unfortunately today he seemed to have perfect coverage. Typical.

He had instinctively gripped the wheel tighter as soon as he heard her voice. He had managed to keep her at bay so far. Missing the calls, having them drop out due to the remoteness of his location. You know to help his writers mind. But she had called on a blocked number and his damned curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“It’s coming, Elizabeth.” Wincing as he realised his mistake.

“Betty,” she corrected. “I asked you to call me Betty. Elizabeth makes me sound like I am from a period drama.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

“And old.”

“Okay Betty. It’s almost done.” He sighed into the phone, eager to end the call.

“You said that in an email two weeks ago.” And he hadn’t made any further progress since that email either.  “I have the publisher breathing down my neck, waiting for that chapter.”  

“And it will be ready. Soon.” He pleaded. In all honesty he hadn’t even started it yet. The first half of his novel had flowed so well, so seamlessly. It had been as though his fingers could not move quickly enough across the keyboard to capture his thoughts.

But then he had hit a wall. Hard.

She had given him time before the emails started. Her words had been gentle at first before becoming more pointed and directive. And when no further progress had been made beyond a brief outline the phone calls had started.

Elizabeth, correction, Betty Cooper was his assigned editor. She had edited his chapters mercilessly. She had a love affair with red ink and was not backward in her criticism. Some of the other writers that he had met at a company mixer had shared their sympathies with him as he told them who his editor was. He knew as soon as he got that first chapter back that she was going to make him work for it. But she was also going to push him to write some of the best writing of his life. He swore with each chapter he submitted that she was trying to set a new personal best on how many ‘suggestions’ she could make. But she was always right which was infuriating in its own right.

Well, I am sick of waiting for it. We have a deadline approaching and I am not going to be pulling all nighters because you hit some writers block.

He sighed as he pulled the car round the corner making his way up the lone dirt road to his escape. A lone cabin in the middle of nowhere. Just him, his computer and Hotdog. It had worked before to help him get through a slump. He was surprised to see smoke coming from the chimney as he sped up slightly. He was sure that he had snuffed out the fire before he left for to pick up a few essentials from the few shops that constituted the town centre of his remote location.

The bigger surprise however was the bright red convertible parked out the front. No-one knew where he was. Not his friends or family. They were used to him going AWOL for weeks at a time before he emerged with a new completed chapter or novel. In fact the only person he had let know about his whereabouts was…

“Betty!?” He could feel his heart starting to race at the thought of her having tracked him down. “Where are you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone as he pulled up outside of the cabin.

As he swung the door to the cabin open he was taken aback. He wasn’t sure how exactly he had imagined her to look. Her blonde hair was piled high on top of her head a few loose strands curling their way around her face to frame it. Her lips were pink, a breathtaking shade even though he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing any colour on them. And her eyes, fuck, her eyes. A brilliant shade of blue hiding behind the glass of her glasses perched on her nose.

He knew it was corny as all hell, but she literally took his breath away.

“Thought I could help with some motivation.” She said pulling him gently into the room by his arm before shutting the door behind him, pulling her oversized cardigan closer around her body as the cool wind from outside entered the cabin. He hadn’t said a word his phone still held in his hand by his side. He looked to Hotdog who was happily following her around the small space of the kitchen. His tail wagging furiously behind him.

“Some kind of  guard dog you are.” He mumbled under his breath as his dog cocked his head at him before bounding across the room to continue to follow the blonde whirlwind who seemed to have command over his kitchen, of his whole domain. He leaned up against the counter as she pressed the buttons on his coffee machine watching the brew intently, before shooting him a smile over her shoulder as if this was all perfectly normal and he didn’t have what was essentially a stranger making coffee in his remote cabin. “What is going on Betty?”

She pulled the cup from the machine and held up the creamer and he shook his head. She walked over to him and handed him the cup. “I got sick of waiting.” She said shrugging her shoulders.

“So you came here to?”

“Motivate you.” She said simply as she returned to the machine to make her own drink.

“Right.” He said as he sipped the coffee letting the perfect combination of sweet and bitter wash over him. Another thing she did right.

He wasn’t exactly sure what she had meant by motivating him to write. He had never really needed to be motivated to write before. He got suck sure but he usually just needed the space and quiet to return to his writing.

Betty’s form of getting rid of writing block was the complete opposite. She dragged him out of that cabin every opportunity that she got. They went on walks with Hotdog. He went into town more than he ever had in the years that he had come up to the cabin. He would watch as she would talk to the townspeople. Her smile was always so wide, so gentle yet inquisitive. He envied the way she could blend into this town as if she had been there her whole life.

At night she would bring him the laptop and a coffee. Sometimes a home baked cookie if she decided to spoil him. She in turn would sit at the other end of the couch with her work which she had had forwarded to his address.

He just stared at the empty screen as he had been doing for months. The blinking cursor amongst the stark white of his screen mocking him. He would glance over to watch her. She would wear her glasses sitting on the tip of her nose, a pen in the other hand. He had asked her why she didn’t use a computer, that it would be easier and she had explained to  him that she liked to feel the paper underneath her fingertips, the weight of the pen in her hand. She said that she needed to feel the words underneath her touch so that she could truly absorb them. He had continued to stare at her with a raised eyebrow, and she had smiled sheepishly before returning to her pages. Correcting someone else’s work just like she had his own.

Jughead wasn’t sure how he felt about her reading other author’s works. He knew it was silly. Of course she was editing other novels but since their time at the cabin and even before then he had always thought of her as his editor. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to share her with anyone else.

That was how they were now him at one end of the couch staring at the screen in a daze. While she scribbled on the pile of papers in front of her. Hotdog, the traitor, was at her feet sleeping soundly, laying across her toes to keep them warm. He found himself watching her again. Watching the way her hair fell across her face as it escaped from the messy bun she had tied it in as she started her work. The way her bottom lip was tugged between her teeth in concentration. Her intense stare at the work in front of her. Even the way she held her pen had him mesmerised.

“Betty?” He broke the silence of the nearly empty cabin and she looked up at him. Her bottom lip still between her teeth. He felt exposed under her gaze. “Can I borrow some paper?” Betty nodded reaching behind her into her bag rifling through until she pulled out a few blank pages. “And a pen.” He added. She smiled at this pulling out a pen out of her bag as well. She reached over and handed him the items. Shifting Hotdog a little in the process earning her a groan of displeasure. “Thanks.” He said as he shut his laptop, resting the small pile of blank paper in front of him, before tapping the pen against his chin.

Betty leant back against the couch and continued with her own work. As Jughead put pen to paper. He allowed himself a stream of consciousness. He wrote what he could, anything that came to him went onto the paper. A few words at first. Then more. Then whole sentences. A page. Two. He watched the way the ink flowed as he wrote the way his t’s were always a little crooked, some letters linked, others separate from one another. He stopped when he ran out of paper. Shuffling the pages together as he looked over to Betty, to realise that she had been watching him and that she had moved a little closer on the couch they shared. Hotdog had returned to his own bed close by the fire.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She responded. “Can I?” She asked nodding towards the papers he was still clutching in his hand. “Soon. There’s just something I need to do first.”

He closed the space between them. Taking her face delicately in his hands before he pressed his lips to hers. He felt her breath hitch at the contact and wondered if he had overstepped. It was meant to be a professional relationship, but then again that had changed a while ago as they had seemingly slipped into domesticity.

He felt her lips move against his own as she kissed him back. Gentle, exploring kisses that left him wanting only more. But he pulled away, afraid to get lost too quickly. She reached up to push the glasses back on her face as she looked into his eyes.

Jughead knew then that he had found his muse.

Kremlin Annihilation Week: Day 3 - Take 2

Okay, with less bitterness this time.

I know everyone’s gonna say 2x13 because it is legitimately the worst. So I’ll just start with 2x12 and explain why I think they are all The Literal Worst.

2x12: Kremlins like to point at this episode and say that it’s a really good representation of how good Man-Hell is because he doesn’t force Kara to return his feelings after he rejects her. Well, I reject that notion. Here’s my reasons why.
- Comes back to CatCo to ask out her co-workers, the same one he was so easily able to manipulate before and makes sure Kara sees him and knows why he’s there (”Well, you rejected me so I’m moving on”). This is what? A day after he confessed his feelings? Yeah, no, he’s not trying to move on. He’s trying to make Kara jealous, it’s a pretty classic move on the part of every fuckboy everywhere.
- Proceeds to spend the entire date he takes Eve on talking about Kara, ensuring that Kara hears about that the next day and thus has to hear yet again how he feels about her and that he’s CONSTANTLY thinking about her. That’s not stalker-ish at all.
- The club soda thing? Same idea. He never drinks club soda before or after this episode (that they show us) and if he does, it’s certainly not exclusively club soda and not for a week straight. So he intentionally does it to get Kara’s attention. Why would he be doing that after he seems to say it’s okay that she doesn’t like him back? Well, to remind her that he’s there and CONSTANTLY THINKING ABOUT HER AGAIN! And, again, the information is passed to her through a third party, so the emotional manipulation is subtle and can’t really be traced back to him as intentional.

2x14: Skipping 2x13 cuz the things there are obvious and everyone else will say them (has said them). This is supposed to be the beginning of their “star-crossed” relationship and it isn’t off to a good start.
- When she brings him flowers and coffee in the morning, he just sort-of stares at them and says it was “gentlemanly” of her to do so (rigid gender roles much?) and then dumps the flowers in a lamp shade (DO NOT TELL ME IT WAS A STUPID CULTURAL ERROR KREMLINS, HE KNOWS THAT’S NOT WHERE FLOWERS GO, THERE IS A 100000% CHANCE THEY HAD FUCKING VASES ON DAXAM) with zero consideration. Very kind and gracious.
- He tells Kara he wished he had been able to wake up with her even though he knows that she was out doing superhero stuff and getting him flowers and coffee and literally shows up like within a minute of him waking up. He needs to stop trying to get her to be ashamed of being a superhero, I swear to god. Being a hero is not about being selfish.
- There’s the obvious breaking his promise to her to keep their relationship quiet and then announcing it to the ENTIRE DEO and then never apologizing for it.
- Pulling her aside while she is happy to tell her his suspicions about Jeremiah being a traitor. Dude, let her be happy. This is her dad. Don’t try to spoil this reunion, it’s literally something they’ve been working toward for almost a year now. If you have suspicions, take them to someone else, someone like Winn who doesn’t have an emotional connection to Jeremiah. But honestly? Don’t say anything at all until you have valid proof, demon boy. It’s literally just you being paranoid and trying to isolate Kara from her family with your “suspicions.” 
- Again, the breaking of the promise to give Jeremiah the benefit of the doubt and then confronting him at the family dinner. Intentionally. Out of… jealousy? Again? Since he was getting all weird about Jeremiah being allowed back to the DEO so quickly even though they kept a much closer watch on him? Was that seriously his motivation in this scene? Fuckwad.
- That half-assed apology after Kara calls him out on him not listening to her (for the second episode in a row). Also, asking for her forgiveness for it immediately, despite having done literally nothing to earn it yet.
- Getting Winn to help him FIND evidence against Jeremiah and spy on him. Without telling anyone else, including J’onn, the head of the DEO. Granted, that sort-of helped since they were able to catch him doing the download thing, but like… why didn’t they LOOK at the download thing before they decided to bring it to Kara AGAIN? They’re able to do so in just the next scene, so why force Kara onto their side before they have any ACTUAL evidence from the data Jeremiah downloaded? Jesus Fucking Christ, these people are idiots.
- Having to go to Winn to ask what he should do to be a better boyfriend (no, he does not get brownie points for recognizing he’s been a bad boyfriend, kremlins). Needing the only other straight white guy on the show to tell him what Kara’s been telling him since 2x13 that she needs. Literally needing to be told that he should be listening to his girlfriend.
- ONLY being kind and attentive to Kara after he has been proven RIGHT and she is in an extremely vulnerable state, emotionally. She is in a more “submissive” position now and he can be in the more traditionally “dominant” role that he is clearly more comfortable with. Rigid gender roles again anyone?

2x15: Thankfully he wasn’t in this much, but what was in it was still bad. Here’s why.
- Not listening to why Kara is hesitating over posting the blog article and thus losing her job. Didn’t we just have two episodes about him listening to Kara and what she needs? No? Oh, well, must’ve just been my imagination.
- Pushing Kara to make a decision that will lose her her job, the one place where she can go without him following her. Intentionally pushing her to isolate herself more so she has to spend more time with him and pretending it’s support.
- Showing up to presumably cheer her up with food he has already started eating.
- Not being sympathetic at all when he comes back and she’s upset over losing her job. Telling her that she can just get another job. Not apologizing for his part in pushing her into the decision that led to her losing her job. Not apologizing for not listening to why she loves her job and didn’t want to lose it BEFORE he pushed her into doing something that would cost her her job.
- Kara saying that Supergirl is not part of “who she is” but only “what she can do.” “What she can do” as Supergirl is only doable because she’s a Kryptonian. Those powers, and her identity as Supergirl, are one of her last links to her Kryptonian heritage, a link she will always have with her, unlike Clark or her mother’s hologram or even the Fortress of Solitude. Her powers are A PART OF HER and thus, so is Supergirl. Supergirl is Kara Zor-El. Reporter at CatCo is Kara Danvers.
- Kara saying that being Supergirl and having Wonder Bread would be enough for her. If we go by what the narrative says, that Supergirl ISN’T truly who she is, and she’s lost the one thing that she pinned her real identity to (her job), then she has now just declared that her entire identity is as HIS girlfriend. She no longer exists without Man-Ew because without him, she has nothing, if we go by the narrative.

2x16: Some pretty obvious stuff here, so I’ll keep this one brief.
- I don’t believe for a second he didn’t recognize Rhea’s voice or the ship which means he allowed Kara to go into battle against that ship likely knowing she wouldn’t win because he didn’t tell her pertinent information (this is a pattern, isn’t it? It’s the same shit he pulled in 2x13 when giving her all of the information didn’t get him what he wanted). 
- Refusing to tell Kara the truth about his identity and why the Daxamites were here. Clearly intending to go to his parents and tell them off and come back without anyone being the wiser and coming up with some sort of lie as to why they wanted him.
- Calling himself a “hero of Earth” as if he gives a shit about Earth and humanity in general. As if he has in any way earned the right to call himself a hero at all. Period.
- Not actually speaking out against slavery and leaving that to Kara. Oh, yeah. He’s changed just because he said “Daxam was never great.” I totally believe it.
- “This is the point in the movie where the girl forgives the guy for whatever dumb stuff he’s done.” This is his first scene since Kara sort-of broke up with him, so he obviously has done nothing to EARN forgiveness yet.
- Trespassing into Kara’s home without breaking anything after she asks for space.
- Telling her that he has to tell her some things before he loses her forever even though he has no plans of leaving for Daxam which is the only way this entire scene could have been even remotely acceptable. 
- Claiming that he wants to be a hero so he can spend every day by her side (newsflash: that’s not herosim, that’s just selfish and the opposite of what being a hero is about).
- Choosing not to go back to Daxam when he has the opportunity to amend some of the mistakes he made while he was the Prince.

Crossover Musical: Again, mostly obvious stuff.
- Why is he there instead of Alex? Makes no sense.
- Lying about his relationship status with Kara while she is unconscious. Shushing J’onn when he tries to correct Musty-Eh, even though J’onn is his superior officer. Total lack of respect for authority? Still check. But he’s totally changed for Kara.
- Kissing Kara while she is unconscious and cannot consent.
- Not sounding even slightly worried about Kara when he sees she is dying in the musical world.
- Somehow this kiss WORKS? I know he SAID he loves her and all, but I’m not sure he knows HOW to love. Clearly he didn’t get good examples from his parents and he certainly doesn’t treat Kara like he loves her, so the kiss absolutely should have failed and J’onn should have pushed him out of the way and done it himself, kissing Kara on the forehead just seconds before she passes away. Or Alex should have been there. Hell, I’d have even accepted Barry asking Cisco to send him back in after he comes to and realizes it didn’t work and giving Kara a forehead kiss of friendship (or on the hand or something).
- Somehow Kara forgives him despite him literally STILL doing nothing to earn it despite kissing her while she is unconscious because some lunatic told him he should.
- Kermil being paralleled to WestAllen, a healthy interracial relationship, despite the only reason karahell even existing is because the show BROKE UP a healthy interracial relationship for racism.

2x17: I am so tired of this, but it’s the last one, so it’s almost over.
- Butting in with his opinion when Alex and J’onn are trying to convince Kara to stand down as if he is offended no one asked him for an opinion even though he literally has nothing to add to the conversation except, “Yeah, what they said.”
- BONUS: He is not included in the shot when J’onn says, “Those of us who care about you.”
- Suggesting running away to another planet as a viable solution, despite that meaning that Kara would be leaving behind her family and friends, her job, and her home. Not even suggesting that they take Alex with them or any of her family and friends. Or that just Kara go by herself until the situation can be handled. He wants it to be just the two of them. And we’re back to the isolation.
- When that doesn’t work, he calls her heroism annoying. Back to thinking herosim is about being selfish, not selfLESS. Also, insults towards Kara’s passions. That line typically goes, “That’s what I LOVE MOST about you.” But he doesn’t love her. So. 

Anyway, that’s my worst episodes list. 

The Tea Situation...

Ever since the infamous phrase “Are you just making one for yourself, sir?” it has been a common trope that Hardy is making tea for Ellie just the way she likes it. I don’t even know how many times I’ve read it in a story (mine included). And guess what folks? BAM! Right in the first episode Hardy is making tea. And apparently he is shit at it but Ellie still likes it (don’t tell Hardy though)… just shoot me now. Thanks Chibnall for yet again fulfilling all of our dreams… you can stop denying it now (also we can hook you up with all the fic you ever wanted to read and put on screen).

This scene tells us also something else… THEY HAVE A FRIGGIN SCHEME… meaning she sends him off to snoop around ‘cause he’s good at looking into who the victim is while she goes off to talk to the family which she is brilliant at. And they both get carried away with it… he forgets to make the tea and she gets too involved (Ellie accuses Hardy of snooping around before making tea “every time” and admonishes him like schoolboy that he forgot his part and Hardy yells at Ellie for giving out her number “every time” in his usual exasperated-with-life Hardy-style). They are a TEAM… partners in crime (oh god I didn’t just do this awful pun? yeah I did).

So, yes… the tea situation… we also know already he is bringing her tea or coffee later on (remember she scolded him for not letting her stop for tea when they first arrived at the crime scene). All ties together… I love Chibnall’s writing and his ability to link all these little scenes and moments within an episode, a whole season and the whole show. It’s brilliant.

Come and talk to me if you want ;)

The snowball part 13

I’m procrastinating uni hw so here have another chapter :) 

Link to previous chapters x

The next few days passed solemnly. Everyone was moping around as they tried to come up with a solution to their Hybern problem.

Feyre had started working at Mor’s again as she brooded on how miserably she had failed to convince Tamlin to break his deal with Hybern, but also how much she had messed things up with Rhys.

Feyre hadn’t seen Rhys much since she had completely ruined whatever had been between them. After she came back to the store with Mor and Amren, looking visibly shaken from her confrontation with Tamlin, Rhys had been concerned and wouldn’t leave her alone until he was satisfied she wasn’t hurt. But then there was nothing. He had completely blown her off, deciding to give her some space she assumed.

The only people who visited the house was Cassian and Azriel, it was becoming glaringly obvious to Feyre that Azriel mainly came to see Mor, but Cassian offered to continue training Feyre if she was still up for it. Feyre threw all her anger and confusion into her lessons with Cassian and spent most of her other spare time at the store working. 

Mor’s wary eyes always seemed to see straight through her need for a distraction. One night as they were watching tv together Mor came straight out with it.

“Why don’t you just call him?”

“Who, Tamlin?” Feyre asked, checking her phone to see 19 missed calls from him.

Mor gave her a pointed look.

“I don’t think Rhys wants to see me Mor.”

“Of course he does. He’s just moping.”

“You didn’t see his face.”

“Feyre, I don’t like seeing him this sad and I know you won’t believe me when I say that Rhys really does like you, but you at least owe it to him to become friends again. Even if you don’t want anything more.”

Feyre groaned as Mor guilt tripped her. The truth was Feyre had felt so lonely ever since Rhys had stopped coming around, and it had managed to get rid of any doubts she had about what she wanted from him. Whether Rhys’s feelings had changed since then was another story though.

“I’ll try Mor. That’s if he ever speaks to me again…”

“Oh please, I guarantee right now he’s talking with Az and Cassian about you right now.”

“If its bothering you that much just call her Rhys!” Cassian teased, as Rhys once again had brought up Feyre.

“If you had bothered to go over there, you would see she’s just as miserable as you.” Azriel said from the kitchen.

Rhys hadn’t moved from the couch in days as he struggled to think of a way to stop Hybern, and of the things Feyre had said to him. 

“She told me very clearly that she wants nothing more than friendship between us.” Rhys complained.

Cassian whacked him over the head with a water bottle. “And? She’s just come out of a very abusive relationship and you’re mad that she doesn’t want to jump into another relationship so soon?”

“I’m not mad.” 

“No but you’re whiny.” Azriel laughed. “Feyre just needs some good friends right now. When she’s ready to move on she will.”

“I know. And I’m not trying to pressure her. It’s just hard to be around her and act like I’m fine with nothing more than friends.”

“Well you’d better find a way to do it or you can kiss her goodbye.” Cassian said. “Anything would be better then you moping around here watching dopey romances all day.”

“I already told you, they just happened to be on tv!”

“Right. Whatever you have to do to sort out your feelings man.” Cassian laughed.  

But Rhys wasn’t listening anymore. He was reading for the tenth time the eviction notice for his neighborhood scheduled for one month’s time.The letter had arrived last week and was stamped with the Hybern company seal. Time was running out.

Azriel noticed the letter and frowned at it. “When were you going to tell us about that?”

“Hopefully after I came up with an idea to stop it.” Rhys shot back.

“We could come public with the health claims?” Cassian suggested.

“You know no one cares about this part of town, or the environment for that matter. If it’ll give the rest of them more jobs and more profit they’ll turn a blind eye.” Said Azriel.

“Can we raise enough money to maybe buy Hybern out?” Cassian asked.

Rhys sighed. “We’ve already been over this, the man has more money than even I can spare, no amount of fundraising is going to help.”

The three were quiet. Unable to come up with any new ideas, Azriel growing restless, said he was going to Mor’s for a bit.

“Don’t tell Feyre about any of this.” Rhys added quietly.

“She deserves to know, like the rest of us.” Azriel said sternly.

Rhys shook his head. “Mor said Tamlin would back out of the deal if Feyre went back to him. If she knows how dire the situation is… she might do it.”

Azriel and Cassian’s eyes widened slightly in shock but Azriel nodded his head and agreed to not tell Feyre.

The next day Feyre was at work when Cassian, Azriel, and to her shock, Rhys, walked in. They all nodded hello as they took a table near the counter, heads bent low in discussion.

Without needing to be asked, Feyre started making their coffees, knowing off by heart all their orders. She took Cassian’s and Azriel’s over to them but with a cold look, left Rhys’s on the counter, close enough for him to see it, but also annoyingly far away from the table.

Azriel and Cassian gave him quizzical looks but Rhys was just as mystified. When he still sat there unmoving, Cassian kicked him unsubtly in the leg.

“Go talk to her.” He practically growled.

Rhys immediately got up and sauntered over to the counter, doing his best to make himself look nonplussed by Feyre’s actions. He stopped just in front of the counter where Feyre was already making another coffee.

“Something the matter?” She smiled at him sweetly.

“You didn’t bring my coffee over?” Rhys asked softly.

“Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.” Feyre said casually, going back to her coffee making.

Rhys was visibly uncomfortable, unable to source where her anger was coming from. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No of course not. That would have involved you actually doing something. You may as well have been dead the past few days for all I’ve seen you.” Feyre huffed.

Now it started making sense to Rhys.

“I thought that’s what we agreed to.”

“No.” Feyre said strongly as she near slammed a milk jug on the counter. Rhys took an unintentional step back as she continued. “You agreed to that and then walked away before I said anything. You made up your mind for both of us. Not to mention you said we should stay friends. Well, I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep any friends if you avoid all of them too.”

Before Rhys could say anything, Feyre picked up three coffees and took them out to her customers, leaving Rhys at the counter with his mouth slightly open in shock. Back at the table, Cassian and Azriel were snickering into their coffees.

When Feyre returned her face was flush with anger and she refused to meet Rhys’s eyes.

“I didn’t realise you felt this way.” Rhys said with a small smirk. “I didn’t mean to avoid you. But what was stopping you from coming over, or sending a text?”

Feyre blushed an even deeper red. “And been even more embarrassed when you threw me out of your house, or ignored my text?”

Rhys smiled softly at her. “Feyre. I was only doing what I thought you wanted, but I may have taken it a bit too far. Can we start over?”

Feyre risked a glance up at his face and all her anger vanished as she saw how open and trusting Rhys’s face looked again. She offered him a small smile in return. “Sure. How about we start with a raise?”

Rhys laughed. “How about we start with you actually taking all your coffees out and not avoiding certain orders?” 

“What? Are you not capable of carrying out your own coffee?” She teased him. 

“Just this once Feyre.” Rhys said as he grabbed his cup and made his way back to the table.

Cassian and Azriel both grinned at Rhys from behind their mugs as he sat back down. “Not a word.” Rhys warned them.

The group continued to come up with strategies to beat Hybern with Feyre occasionally coming over to give some input. As it got later in the day, the store became less busy and Feyre was able to sit down with them more. Her head was bent over reading a document Cassian had brought. A stray hair kept falling into her face no matter how many times she tried to pin it back, so Rhys had cautiously reached for it, smoothing it into the pin. His hand rested against her hair for maybe a moment too long, fingers curling in the loose strands after Feyre made no objection to Rhys touching her.

It was at that moment, with Feyre sitting amongst the Illyrian men, contently leaning into the palm of Rhys’s hand when the door swung open, and Tamlin stormed in. 

Immediately all three Illyrian’s were on their feet. Rhys moved to Feyre’s side while Cassian moved her discreetly behind his hulking body. 

Tamlin noted the close proximity of Rhys standing next to Feyre and with a primal instinct, his gaze locked on him with a feral fury.

AU in which Steve works at the college library and Nancy is constantly there studying late so she starts bringing him coffee and he starts walking her home after dark. Sometimes he slips notes into the books she checks out, wishing her good luck on her tests and papers. When she returns the books, always directly to him, she tucks a scrap of paper into the pages, lines from her favourite poems recorded in her perfectly neat handwriting. Right after finals, he asks her out using a book scavenger hunt—each clue is a riddle with a book title for an answer and after ten books there’s a tiny little note that says “Dinner Friday?” He hadn’t imagined she’d figure it out so quickly and he’s shocked when she shows up at the circulation desk after only forty minutes to say yes. 

From a Joke to the End Game - The Evolution of Molly Hooper: Molly the Tool: A Study in Pink

Hello Everyone!

Thanks so much to all who had read the introduction to this meta posted a week ago. Today, I’d like to start on Season One and the first episode of it: A Study in Pink. I’ve already addressed the importance of Molly being introduced alongside Sherlock in the previous part of this huge meta, so today I’ll focus only on the scenes in ASiP themselves.

Rest under the cut, it’s a long post with captions.

Keep reading

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 26

Originally posted by jeffreydeanmorgantrash

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

Chapter 26

Blake blinked open her eyes groggily, and gave a small moan of tiredness.

Her body felt stiff and her still aching ribs felt like they had only got worse overnight, but despite this, Blake felt wholly alive.

As though over the space of a few hours and a good rest later, she felt like a new person. The weight of the world having been lifted from her shoulders.

And it had been.

For months on end, she had to live with the impending dread that she might get home…go back to her house in Alexandria to find David in an angry mood about nothing. Ready to take it out on her in any way he deemed fit.

But all that was over now. And as much as she was sure she was expected to be sad about his dismal demise…she wasn’t.

She felt, in a strange way, freer than she had in a long time.

But even so, as Blake brought herself up onto her elbows, bleary-eyed…giving a frown, suddenly remembering just where she was.

Blake was not back in her room on the third floor, but she was instead up here, in Negan’s quarters. On Negan’s bed…still in the heavy white bathrobe she had fallen asleep in.

Blake shifted around to peer at the spot next to her on the bed…but there was no sign of the tall, bearded Saviour in question.

Nothing but a small dusty imprint of where his boots had led across the pristine white bedsheets the previous evening.

Had he really slept beside her last night? With no hint of trying to goad her into having sex with him either?

That certainly was not something she had expected from the dangerous leader of the Saviours. Had she just imagined the whole thing? She wouldn’t have put it past herself in her exhausted state.

Blake rubbed at her eyes tiredly…and pulled herself up into a neat sitting position, looking around.

She was alone…the illumination from the window casting a bright white light on the room and on the empty sofa and armchairs across the large, open-plan space

In the daylight the room was far more modern that Blake first had thought, with grey walls, ornate lamps and large green plants littering the area. She gave a small sigh as she noticed Negan’s barbed-wire covered baseball bat lying abandoned on the coffee table….as if it were the most natural place in the world for it to belong.

The weapon she had partly used to end her boyfriend’s life not even twenty-four hours ago.

But before Blake could dwell on any of this further, the large oak door leading into the room suddenly swung open, and in stepped Negan…tall and looming, his usual black leather jacket shrugged easily over his sloping shoulders.

A wide grin slipped onto his face as he suddenly caught sight of her, sitting there on his bed.

“Well, mornin’ sunshine,” he said in a charmingly gruff voice, kicking the door closed behind him and strolling towards her.

He held out a plastic plate of hot food, as he arched his back, eyeing her, smirking.

“Thought you might be hungry…” he murmured in a low drawl.

Blake peered up at him for the first time properly, pulling her robe around herself just a little defensively, suddenly wholly aware that she was very, very naked beneath it.

But Negan, catching this, gave an immediate chuckle.

“Hey, don’ mind me. You wanna get your titties out in here, then be my guest,” he said in a teasing voice, causing Blake to scowl up at him, huffing.

“I wasn’t-” she started, before she narrowed her eyes and snatched the warm plate from his grasp. “Just…..shut up.”

Negan laughed loudly.

On the plate in Blake’s hand was a small stack of limp looking pancakes. But all the same, Blake hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And for the first time in a long time, she finally realised how much of appetite she actually had.

Six months of mistreatment and vile words would certainly do that to a girl.

She placed the plate down beside her on the bed and tore apart a piece of the dry pancake with her fingers.

“Now no getting’ crumbs on my bed, Doll-face,” said Negan pointing at her, in a voice of faux-warning. “An’ don’t think I’m fuckin’ jokin’!”

But Blake flashed him a frozen smile, as she placed a piece of pancake in her mouth.

It was dry and didn’t taste of much, but it was warm and surprisingly moreish.

“So…am I going to get breakfast in bed every day?” she asked in an innocent tone, after a couple of long moments of silence, raising her eyebrow up in the tall, dark-haired man’s direction, fiendishly.

Negan grinned, showing her a line of white teeth.

“Uh, do I look like a fucking servant to you?” he asked incredulously, placing a hand to his chest in a gesture of mock-defensiveness. “I mean, Jesus, Sweetheart. I try to be fucking nice, and you just take advantage.”

Blake chuckled, shifting her bare feet against the sheets below her, taking another bite of pancake.

A moment of long, drawn-out silence seemed to fall over the pair of them, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

Blake finished off the last of her plate of food, brushing the crumbs from the bed as Negan stared over at her grinning, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey pants as he rocked back on his heels.

“So….” Blake finally uttered, her eyes flickering up to him after a second or two….looking a little tentative if truth be told.

She blinked her eyes, and cocked her head, giving Negan a small smile.

“…no coffee?”

At this Negan gave a whining laugh of approval.

“Well shit, Peaches,” said the tall, tanned saviour shaking his head and surveying her with twinkling eyes. “You are fucking lucky I have a soft spot for ya”

Negan pointed at her, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth.

And for the briefest of moments, Blake felt her breath catch momentarily in her throat. But she hurriedly pushed this feeling away.

“Look, I’ll get Laura to bring some up for you,” he said easily, stretching his back with a groan, his eyes still fixed to hers. “But in the meantime, Doll-face. If you wanna take another bath, I mean, I would be more than willin’ to join you for that one. I could even scrub your back for you….massage those aching shoulders of yours.”

But Blake rolled her eyes, smirking, and pushed herself from the bed.

“As tempting as that sounds,” she said smirking and getting to her feet. “I thiiink I’m all bath-ed out.”

Her tone was simpering and teasing, and she glanced up at Negan before bumping her shoulder with his as she sauntered past him.

“You can get Laura to bring that coffee to my room,” she finished, wrinkling her nose as she smiled up at Negan teasingly.

Blake was glad about all this….their pointless sniping at each other.

Acting as normal, as if yesterday had never happened.

Negan, of course, grinned back, giving a gentle huff, as Blake tied the robe tighter around herself and made to head out of the door, ready to make her way back to her own room, three floors and few hallways down.

But before she could reach the door, she felt Negan’s sudden hand reach out, grabbing her upper arm gently, stopping her in her tracks.

He had turned around and was stood beside her now, his face much more serious that it had been a second or two ago, his chocolate eyes boring into hers.

Blake gave a sudden, gulp the atmosphere in the room changing slightly.

“You sure you’re alright, Peaches?” asked Negan suddenly in a low voice. “Coz’ I mean, as badass as you were last night…you still fuckin’ killed your own fi-an-ceby feedin’ him to those dead pricks out there. An’ I know how much that type of thing can kinda screw with your head.”

Blake stared back at Negan for a long second before nodding.

She was ok.

In fact, she felt better than she had felt in a long, long time.

But did that mean she was over it? Now that she wasn’t quite sure of…

“I’m fine,” she said in a sudden quiet voice, reassuring him. “I just…”

There was something else she wanted to say, but she could not quite find the right words at this very moment.

But she gave another nod instead, her eyes drifting around the room. Looking anywhere but at Negan right now.

“…I think coffee would help.”

She wrinkled her nose again and grinned up at him once more.

That soft, mild and warm atmosphere filling the room once again as Negan smiled back, chuckling.

He gave an enormously sarcastic roll of his eyes.

“Alright, alright…” he said raising his hands in defeat. “One coffee comin’ right up, your Majesty.”

Blake bit her lip, turning on her heel and headed out of the door…

But what she didn’t see was Negan’s face stare after her as she left the room, a large admiring, devoted smirk, plastered across his long, bearded features, as he watched her go….still wearing his bathrobe as she went.

It wasn’t even twenty minutes later, that Blake, having just got showered, was stood in the corner of her room, doing up the last couple of buttons on her navy shirt.

She gave a sigh, glancing into the mirror, just as she had the day before…looking back at her hollow cheeks and her purple ringed eyes.

But today she could have sworn she looked fresher….felt more alive….

There was today, colour to those cheeks and after having a good night’s sleep, the bags beneath her eyes had all but disappeared.

But there was nothing that could be done about those bruises. No. It would take a few days for those, and her broken bones, to heal.

Blake was convinced she had done even more damage to her sprained wrist after using Lucille yesterday, so she planned this morning, to take a walk to see Dr Carson to check up on it.

She had all but completely forgotten about Negan’s promise of coffee when the door to her room was suddenly shoved open, and in walked the tall-dark haired Saviour himself.

He looked as haphazard and as thrown together as always, with legs that seemed far too long for him, a dazzling grin at his bearded face, and a knife at his belt.

“I thought you were sending Laura,” said Blake eyeing him suddenly, as her fingers danced cross her buttons, doing them up to her collarbone neatly, as Negan’s eyes, she was sure, lingered there for a long second.

He gave a sudden chuckle.

“Oh by all means, Doll-face,” he said ignoring her comment, and approaching her with that cocky walk of his. “Leave those buttons open…”

He almost groaned the words causing Blake to roll her eyes and tut as he stopped close to her, pressing a mug of hot black coffee into her hands.

She pursed her lips, staring up at him.

“In your dreams….errand boy….” she said in a mocking tone, taking the coffee cup and pushing suddenly past him, moving over to the large bureau which sat near to the window, and picking up a hairbrush. “Listen, shouldn’t you be out there…”

She shrugged giving a frown and taking a sip of her coffee, glancing back over at Negan.

“…I don’t know…..killing people and taking their shit or something? Isn’t that what you do.”

Negan marvelled at her, spinning around on his heel to face her, arching his back as he did so.

“Well, ok there Ms ‘I’ve got a taste for killing people now’,” he said in a loud, incredulous voice. But it might fuckin’ surprise you to know, that that is not in my regular day job.“

Blake cocked her head at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Really?” she uttered in a scathing voice of utter disbelief. “What is then? Bringing me coffee?”

She shot him a teasing look, raising both eyebrows in his direction, as she pulled the brush through her long damp hair, lifting the coffee cup to her lips again and taking a long sip.

But Negan just grinned back, his teeth gritted together.

“Listen, Peaches,” began the tall Saviour, moving over to her slowly, leaning his long face into hers, coming to stop just a breath away. “As much as you really got me goin’, using Lucille like that last night…you have gotta be careful usin’ that smart-mouth tone with me, because I cannot tell you how hard you are makin’ me right now.”

Blake pursed her lips, sensing the utter goading in his voice, as she stared up at him.

“Ugh…you’re despicable,” she uttered finally, shoving him away with her hand and moving away from him once again. “And I don’t have a taste for killing people, by the way.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“Last night…that was…different…” she uttered with a reassuring nod.

That was the truth. Or at least she hoped it was.

Although Blake still felt pretty shell-shocked about the whole thing. As though it hadn’t really hit her yet what had truly happened.

“Well, like I’ve said before,” said Negan strolling back across the room, his boots chinking as he went. “Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you, Doll.”

Blake glanced over at Negan to see him pointing back at her smirking.

She rolled her eyes.

“Listen, I’ve got to go and see Dr Carson,” she said taking a final sip of her coffee before placing it down on the nightstand beside her bed. “Why don’t you go bother someone else instead.”

“Ooh, buttercup,” said Negan wrinkling his nose, his tongue poking through his teeth. “Can I just say, I am thoroughly enjoyin’ our repertoire today.”

Blake tutted, moving over towards the door, giving a sigh.

“Was there anything else you actually wanted?” she said in a faux-tired voice, her eyes drifting back over towards the tall, dark-haired, intimidating Saviour.

But in a blink of an eye, Negan’s face became suddenly serious.

“Actually…..” he said dragging a hand down his bearded face and giving a heavy sigh. “There was somethin’ I wanted to ask you.”

Blake gave a tiny gulp, the atmosphere in the room having changed once again.

It was as if since last night, something had changed between the pair of them. An unspeakable sort of bond.

“Y'know, if it’s whether or not I wanted to be one of your wives,” she said a little nervously, talking fast and giving a brief unsure smile. “Then just so you know, the answer’s still no.”

But Negan’s dark eyes remained fixed to hers, as he took a heavy step towards her once again, coming to stop less than a foot away from her.

Blake looked up into his eyes, full of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

And her stomach jolted….as Negan suddenly spoke.

“I was gona ask if you want me to take you back to Alexandria?” he asked his voice full of low concern.

Blake stopped suddenly, her eyes widening. Never expecting this. Not from Negan of all people.

“I mean Rick is still a HUGE prick, don’t get me wrong. But I fully fuckin’ understand that it wasn’t your decision to come here. An’ just so you know, I don’t fucking offer this to a lot of people, Doll-face. But you’re just a special exception,” uttered Negan in a low growling voice, his gaze earnest. “An’ I fucking like you…enough to see you go…if that’s what you want.”

Blake stared up into Negan’s chocolate eyes for the longest of moments. Fully contemplating what he was asking her.

He was giving her the choice.

Giving her freedom.

The absolute opposite of what David had ever, ever offered her.

But was this what she wanted? Right now? Of course it was. It had to be, right?

But before Blake could nod and agree, she felt a pull in the back of her chest. Something stopping her from doing so.

She parted her lips slowly, taking in every inch of Negan’s features, before giving one last gulp.

“Ask me tomorrow,” Blake said in what was merely a whisper.

And with that she turned on her heel and headed out the door.

Leaving it at that.

But in the hallway, still illuminated from behind by the light of the doorway, the caramel-blonde woman paused for a long second.

“Oh, but…uh….if you’re wondering what to bring me for lunch,” she called back over her shoulder at him. “I’m kinda in the mood for chicken and collared-greens…errand boy.”

And with that, Blake smiled to herself as she heard Negan give a laugh behind her…as she disappeared off down the corridor to find Dr Carson.

@collette04 @attorneyl @charoly@princessmoonspunky@mssharingisfun @shimmerybutt@yellatthetopofyourlungs@daydreamsandchai@onemorebeautifulnightmare @arwa-alii@letsdosciencekids@maggiesourie @blumenkind72@toloaughistolove @alonna-oxoxox @brebre149@hibernatingallyearround @baked-potatoes@elinyaes @jmackie1983

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Buzz (a Kyungsoo series)


Genre: smut

Characters: Kyungsoo + OC

Description: while at a work dinner a female staff member accidentally sends a text message to the wrong person, Do Kyungsoo.

A/N this is the first story I’ve ever written. It’s total smut and I love it.

Buzz [M]: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10 coming soon.

Work dinners were a rarity. The group was so busy they didn’t usually have free time for everyone to get together as a group. Schedules were too different most of the time but tonight was special. Exo had finished a long stretch of shows and had a couple of days of downtime in Korea before they headed back out for another tour. Kyungsoo was eating samgyupsal with 7 of his members and a good amount of the staff. The staff that toured with them and were an integral part of the group were enjoying good meat and better drinks together.

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Fic: What she had to do

Here’s my post-5x18 fic. I wanted to explore what Felicity was thinking a bit in the episode and why she wasn’t there with Digg when he talked to Oliver. And then of course, I couldn’t leave it at a sad point so I had to add some future spec. :) Read it on Ao3 or below. Enjoy!

What she had to do

Felicity rolled over with a groan. Probably the worst night of sleep she had in a while – and that wasn’t saying much because she hadn’t really slept well since her breakup with Oliver.

It had been almost a year now, and she still missed sleeping in his arms. She couldn’t seem to…settle without him.

Thinking of Oliver gave her a sharp pain in her chest. She closed her eyes again and tried to push the images of him staggering into the bunker yesterday after he was released from Chase’s torture. He couldn’t even look at her. Despite the end of their romantic relationship, they had remained friends and had at least always had eye contact.

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Chapter 5

Author’s note: Hello everyone! So this is the last chapter in my little fanfic :( I’m so sad because I was having so much fun writing this story, but I suppose it has come to an end. Because this is more of an epilogue rather than an actual chapter, it’s a little shorter. I wanted it to be a lot of fluff seeing as it’s the last chapter, so beware, THIS CONTAINS ALL OF THE FLUFF! Thank you guys for sticking through me with this, I hope you like it :) fun fact: every time I was writing this story I had let’s hurt tonight by one republic stuck in my head, and I only realised how those lyrics mimic the plot, especially chapter 4. Go giver a listen if you wanna set the mood while reading hahaha

When Jackson woke just as the sun was coming up, the first thing he noticed was that he and April were still in the same position in which they had fallen asleep in just a few hours earlier. Her forehead was pressed against his cheek, one of her legs tucked in between his, an arm slung over his belly; and he couldn’t help the bliss that settled over him at the fact that they had woken up together. His eyes squinted against the light that was flooding in from the French windows, and he was grateful when he saw it was gonna be another typical day in Seattle—grey and rainy—so at least the light was duller than it could have been.

He used the hand that was looped around her neck and resting on her arm to squeeze her closer ever so slightly, breathing in the smell of her hair. At that small gesture, he felt her eyelashes flutter on his cheek. She paused for a moment, properly opening her eyes to wrap her mind around the situation, then made a small, hoarse noise in the back of her throat. She craned her head up so that she could press a kiss to his neck, then the corner of his lips, then finally his mouth. As she tried to settle her head back on his chest, he reached to hold her jaw with bent fingers and pulled her lips towards his for another kiss, where they both lingered for a second before she broke into a smile.

‘Hi,’ he said, his voice deep and rough.

‘Hey,’ she replied, her own voice all slow and thick with sleep. They kissed again.

‘Do you wanna get up?’ he said as she finally settled her head back onto him.

‘Not really,’ she said, nuzzling into him with a small, nervous laugh. Was she allowed to say that?

He laughed a little, too.

‘Me neither,’ he said.

‘It’s Sunday, I’ve only got the night shift. Do you have surgery?’ she asked, not making any effort whatsoever to move away from him.

‘Not today,’ he replied, absentmindedly tracing slow circles on the top of her arm with the tip of a finger. ‘I do need to go check in on my post-ops at some point today, though.’

She smiled in response. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly what she was doing.

‘Good. Then we can stay in bed all day,’ she said. He gave a small laugh by breathing out a whiff of air from his nose.

‘You mean until Harriet starts crying?’

That got a giggle out of her. ‘Yeah, until Harriet starts crying.’

They laid there for about another hour in silence, drifting in and out of sleep. At one point, April used the arm that was slung over his belly to hug him for a moment, then adjusted her position so she could wind her other arm around his neck. When they both realised it wasn’t very comfortable, they both turned so they could spoon. Jackson shoved a pillow away from his head.

‘These damn throw pillows,’ he muttered, mostly to himself, and April giggled again. He settled against her again and used a hand to stroke her hair away from her neck to press a long, slow kiss to it. She pulled a clean gulp of air through her nose, angling her face slightly towards him. He went to hug her tighter by grasping her wrist and pulling her close, and she moved her hand so that his cupped the back of hers, then laced their fingers together.

Eventually, they heard Harriet’s whining come from the baby monitor. April sighed and Jackson gave her hand a squeeze, and then she lazily forced herself off the couch to go fetch the baby. While she was gone, Jackson got up and set up a pot of coffee for the both of them.

He was pouring the coffee into two mugs when April reappeared, carrying Harriet on her hip.

‘Good morning, sunshine,’ said Jackson. He went over and stroked Harriet’s head. April couldn’t stop the massive grin that spread to her face as she watched them. She and Jackson exchanged a charged look, and then as though they were reading each other’s minds, both leaned gingerly, tentatively towards each other for a kiss. For some reason that made Harriet start giggling. They both turned to her, laughing too.

‘Was that funny?’ asked April in a baby voice. Jackson chuckled at the baby and pulled April closer by the waist to kiss her again. Harriet burst out laughing, which in turn made her parents laugh, too. They played at that game a few more times before Harriet forgot to find it funny and remembered she was hungry and started crying.

April went to sit on a stool at the island and attached Harriet to her breast.

‘You sure you don’t wanna do that on the couch? You’d be more comfortable,’ said Jackson.

‘No it’s fine,’ she said, and smiled at him when she saw him bringing over the coffee mug for her. ‘Uhm, but it is Sunday, so I wanted to go to church… would you mind watching her? I mean I can take her if you want, but I was gonna go grocery shopping after—‘

‘I’ll go with you,’ he interrupted.

‘Oh, great. So I’ll leave her with you for church and then come pick you up and—‘

‘No, I mean I’ll go with you. To church, too, I mean,’ he said.

When April looked up at him she wore an expression he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was a mixture of surprise and gratefulness and love.

‘Okay,’ she said, trying only half-heartedly to suppress her smile.

‘As long as we can get waffles after,’ he said, an earnest expression on his face as he sipped on his coffee.

April laughed. ‘Yeah, we can get waffles after.’


On the ride home Harriet fell asleep in her car seat but woke up when April took her out, and fussed for about 20 minutes while she rocked in her momma’s arms in her room until she fell asleep again. By the time April made her way back to the living room, Jackson had finished putting away the groceries. Not really sure of what to do with herself, April went and leaned against the island.

‘Uhm, so, I wanted to talk to you about something,’ Jackson said.

‘What’s up?’

‘I’m not really sure how to bring this up,’ he said, not meeting her eyes. ‘But, I mean, I just—given what happened, all of it I mean—I didn’t know whether, uhm…’

April smiled gently. ‘What, Jackson?’

‘You’re not moving out, are you?’

They exchanged a charged look.

‘I want to stay…’ she said, not really answering the question.

‘I want you to stay,’ he answered.

Her expression softened, her eyebrows turned upwards ever so slightly.

‘Okay,’ she said, smiling. He looked down at his shoes, pursing his lips lightly as though subduing a smile.

He took a breath as though he was about to speak, shut his mouth again, then finally said, ‘Can I kiss you?’

She held his gaze for an instant and then nodded. Slowly and a little awkwardly, he walked towards her. He rested his hands on her hips and she pulled him down a little by the collar of his shirt, and they took a moment to stare deep into each other’s eyes, drinking each other in.

Then he pressed his lips softly to hers. They started off with slow, shy kisses at first. He moved his hands from her hips to her neck, sliding them up to run all of his fingers through her hair and holding a fistful of her red locks as he pulled her closer. She moaned softly into his mouth, dropping her arms down, first pressing them flat against his ribs and then curling her fingers around his shirt to press herself up against him. Soon their kisses became more desperate, him opening his mouth and her copying him in response. Reaching to grab her waist, he pulled her up onto the island and he slid between her legs so that he could move closer. He tore his mouth away from hers to brush his lips along her cheek and chin and jaw, finally coming to rest on her neck. He ran his tongue lightly over her pulse point, where he felt it hammering like mad, then nipped at it gently, sometimes with his teeth and other times his lips. She sighed and turned her head to the side a little so he could have better access. Neck kisses are her absolute favourite thing, Jackson remembered. He dug his fingers into the small of her back when he felt her wrap her legs around his waist. Moving back up to her mouth, he spoke against her lips.

‘Should we, uh,’ he got distracted as she took her turn to kiss his neck. ‘Should we go to my room? Or… or maybe your room?’ he said all breathless before she went to kiss his mouth.

‘We can, but our rooms are so far away,’ she gasped quickly so that she could kiss him again.

They giggled, their lips bumping against each other. He reached for her shirt and peeled it off her head. Grabbing her thighs he lifted her off the island, carried her to the couch, and dropped down with her clumsily. They lay there for a long while, taking their time with undressing each other and stalling the moments in between with kisses and strokes. It felt like they were exploring each other’s bodies with new fascination, yet at the same time the sense of familiarity that settled over both of them reminded April exactly of what Jackson had said to her the night before; a feeling of coming home.

When they were both spent, Jackson didn’t let himself fall asleep. After about half an hour he got up, saying he needed to go into the hospital to check on those post-ops.

‘I’m gonna take a shower,’ he said, climbing off the couch. April pushed herself up with one arm so that she was sat upright.

‘I’ll take one with you,’ she said.

She expected a response from him at that— a look, a cheeky giggle—but all she got was an ‘Okay,’ as though it was the most normal thing in the world. A habit, even.

They let the water hit them until the temperature was just right, just standing next to each other, never once trying anything more. Their body language wouldn’t have been different even if they were wearing clothes. Somehow that comforted April. It just felt so normal, so right, to be in such a physically vulnerable state in front of him after he had seen her in so many emotionally vulnerable ones.

When they were both soaked, April reached for the shampoo. She went to squirt some into her palm but Jackson placed a hand on hers to stop her.

‘Here, I’ll do it,’ he said with a kind smile. She returned one and turned around. He massaged the shampoo into her scalp, and she couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped her mouth.

By the time they had finished up in the shower, Harriet had woken up from her nap.

Jackson was brushing his teeth and April her wet hair when they heard her.

‘I’ll get her,’ he said, spitting into the sink.

April volunteered to go to the hospital to check how the ER was doing until Jackson was ready from his post-ops. Carrying Harriet around would give her the excuse of overseeing things without getting dragged into surgery.


April adjusted Harriet on her hip as the doors to the ER slid open. It was a Sunday afternoon, so the place was pretty quiet. She spotted Wilson suturing up an old lady’s thumb and a few nurses around, filling up charts or sitting with patients while they waited for an attending. She went up to Wilson and asked about the case, even about the course of treatment advisable, never taking a moment not to teach her residents, then to the nurses to check how each of their patients was doing. Almost all of them pulled her into a longer conversation she’d have liked to have simply because she was carrying Harriet. When she was done she searched around but she couldn’t find Owen. He probably still hadn’t come back to work.

‘April, what are you doing here?’ a voice said from behind her. April turned to see Arizona walking towards her. ‘Hi, princess,’ she said to Harriet, giving her belly a little tickle with a single finger when she reached them.

‘I just came to see how things were going,’ said April. Arizona picked up on how much calmer and happier April was since the last time she saw her, just yesterday.

‘Did something good happen?’ asked Arizona, folding her arms across with that infectious smile she gave when she was excited for something.

April could stop herself from grinning, and developed a sudden interest in her shoes so that the warm feeling that had blossomed inside her wouldn’t burst into the emergency room. So she could keep it all to herself.

‘Uh, actually, yeah,’ she said, still beaming. ‘I think Jackson and I are back together.’

Arizona’s eyes widened and she laughed a hearty laugh, covering her mouth with her hands. ‘Oh my gosh! Are you serious?’ April nodded, and laughed, too. ‘Awh, April, this is so great, I’m so happy for you!’

‘I’m happy too,’ April grinned bashfully. Arizona turned to Harriet, poking her belly once again.

‘And I’m so happy for you, little missy,’ cooed Arizona in baby voice. She leaned closer to pretend she was going to whisper something in Harriet’s ear, but it was just loud enough for April to catch. ‘Your mommy and your daddy finally realised how much they still love each other, and now you get to grow up seeing what it means to feel pure, unconditional love for someone.’

Harriet just stared back at her with huge eyes, then diverted her attention to the sound of the sliding doors of the ER.

Jackson walked in, his bag slung over his shoulder, and hitched it higher as he spotted his girls and Arizona chatting to the side before walking towards them.

‘Hey guys,’ he said. ‘Robbins.’

‘Hey, Avery,’ Arizona said, beaming at him.

‘Should we go?’ Jackson asked April.

‘Mhm,’ she said, nodding. ‘You done?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Here, I’ll take her,’ he said, lifting Harriet out of April’s arms. ‘See you tomorrow, Robbins.’

‘Goodnight, guys,’ replied Arizona. She couldn’t help watching them as they exited the hospital. She was so genuinely happy for them.

Jackson secured Harriet in her car seat while April set the bags in the boot. They shut the doors and both crossed behind the car to get to their seats. April was about to walk past him when he stopped her by holding his fingers against her belly. Surprised, she looked up at him as he took a step closer towards him.

‘Hey,’ he said, moving his hands up to rest them on slope between her shoulder and neck. ‘You ready?’

She smiled up at him, pure love flowing in between their eyes. They were in the middle of the parking lot but they didn’t care.

‘Yeah,’ she responded, placing her hands on his chest. He leaned down and pressed a soft, slow kiss to her lips. ‘Let’s go home.’

anonymous asked:

“I called an ambulance, okay? Just stay calm.” with jack and crutchie :')



Christopher ‘Crutchie’ Morris strolled out of class, hand clasped in his boyfriend’s. He looked up at Jack Kelly, a small smirk on his lips as he thought 'yes, this ones mine.’.

Both were seniors in high school this year and they were in English and Maths class’s together but other then that they had completely different schedules. However, after school they always walked back to Jack’s foster home to do homework together.

“So how was art?” Crutchie asked and Jack’s face lit up as he started to talk a million words a minute. Art was the one thing Jack could talk for days about and Crutchie loved to watch him ramble, his arms basically flailing with his enthusiasm.

Jack was just getting into the fine details of shading the vase in question when they reached the front door and Ms. Medda shooed them in, sitting them down at the counter and telling Jack to “Make that poor boy a sandwich!”. Crutchie laughed as Jack grumbled as Medda ruffled his hair before leaving the room.

“Ms. Medda is such a lovely lady. You’re really lucky Jack.” Crutchie lived in rental accommodation on his own, all bills paid by the state. It was better than most of his more recent care homes but it was still a lonely place in the dead of night.

“Look kid, what did I tell ya? She said you get to just call her Medda if you want.”

“She’s always gonna be Ms. Medda Jack.” Crutchie grinned.

Jack looked down at the slices of bread before looking back up at Crutchie and shaking his head.

“This just aren’t sweet enough. D'ya want a chocolate bar instead?”

“If you’re having one, sure. Why not?” Jack tossed him a bar and they both unwrapped their bars, Crutchie savouring his chocolate, slowly letting it melt on his tongue while Jack quickly munched his way through the bar.

“Dude, how do you enjoy it if it goes straight from your hand into your stomach?”

“Crutchie, just cause I don’t lick every piece a billion times like you…” Jack grabbed a piece from Crutchie’s bar and started licking it slowly, moaning as he did so.

“You creep, stop it.” Crutchie giggled, grabbing the dish towel beside him and throwing it at his boyfriend.

Jack walked around to Crutchie’s side of the counter and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, chin perched on his head. He sighed contently before asking “Do you wanna go into the sitting room and do our homework and then we can watch a film or something?”

“Only if it’s Hairspray.”

“Hey kid, as long as Zac Efron’s in it I’m down.”


They were about twenty minutes into their work when Jack noticed Crutchie dropping his pen and lying back on the sofa quickly. His eyes become unfocused and while his left hand is lying limp at his side, his right is making clutching motions at his stomach. Jack stands up and moves back, hand covering his mouth. Crutchie’s head is moving in a pattern and although he looks awake, Jack knows he’s not.

He stands still for a moment, unafraid to move before he lets a yell of fright so loud out of him that Medda comes running in, about to ask what’s wrong before seeing the unwell boy on the couch in front of her.

“Jack honey, Imma go call 911, go talk to him, okay?” Jack stayed still, his feet feeling so heavy that they are almost glued to the floor. Medda goes over and grabs his shoulders, shaking her adoptive son lightly.

“Baby I know you’re scared, but honey your boyfriend needs you.” That knocks Jack out of his stupor as he falls on his knees beside Crutchie, too afraid to touch him but shushing quietly, murmuring gentle words of encouragement.

“I know you must be scared Crutch but it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, MS. Medda’s here, everything’s gonna be okay. They’re gonna bring ya to hospital and it’s gonna be fine.”

Medda comes over and feels Crutchie’s forehead, responding yes to whatever she had been asked.

She hung up the phone shortly afterwards while Jack knelt shaking beside his sick boyfriend.

“I called an ambulance, okay? Just stay calm.” Medda told Jack, slipping a kiss onto his forehead. Jack wiped his nose and nodded, sniffing slightly before focusing his thoughts back on Crutchie. The shaking and clutching and head movements had stopped, his head dropping forward suddenly like it was made of lead. Medda quickly grabs him gently and helps him lie more comfortably but the younger still is not talking, responding with very slight nods to questions.

About five minutes later, two paramedics came through the door, one talking to Medda while the other kneeled down beside Jack, checking Crutchie’s pulse, feeling his forehead, asking him to squeeze his hand. He must do so because the paramedic says “Good lad.”

The paramedics reluctantly tell them that they can only bring one person with them. Jack immediately volunteers with Medda opting to drive after them.

Jack expected the ambulance to be a flurry of activity but truly it was just the paramedic doing pulse checks every few minutes and asking Crutchie very basic questions while making small talk with Jack.

Jack talks to Crutchie too, telling him about the shading on the vase because anything else will make him burst into tears right now. Crutchie nods along, looking like he wants to speak sometimes but the words just don’t come out.

When they reach the hospital, Jack goes to run after the stretcher and the paramedics but a nurse stops him and brings him over to the relatives room where she gets a porter to bring him a coffee and a chocolate bar. Jack looks at the bar, sickened to the core to see it’s the same type that he and Crutchie were eating…he looks at his watch. An hour ago. How could that have only been an hour ago? It’s feels like a lifetime of worry and stress to Jack as he picks up the bar and throws it against the wall, grunting when he hears it shattering.

When Medda walks in, he’s on the floor beside the chocolate pieces, trying and failing to pick them up with his shaking hands. She envelopes him in a hug and he sobs softly, tiredness, worry and grief pouring out of him.

It’s another hour before the doctor comes in to talk to them. He sits them down and Jack immediately prepares for the worst. He isn’t expecting the doctor to smile and whisper that it’s okay, HE’S okay.

“It’s called a febrile seizure. It happens when a temperature gets too high and the body goes into a kind of shock mode. We’d normally see it in younger kids but it’s not unheard of in teenagers either. Your friend has a chest infection and his fever ran too high for his body to cope. He’s okay and there shouldn’t be any lasting damage but we’re going to keep him in overnight for observation and to start him on antibiotics. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“When can we see him?” Jack said, rubbing his sleeve on his eyes.

“I can take you to his room now.”

Jack prepared to see the pale, eyes half-lidded boy he saw in the ambulance but instead Crutchie is sitting up, chatting to the nurse who’s fiddling with his IV.

“And he’s an artist, swear to Go-Oh hey Jack! I was just talking about you.”

Jack ran up and hugged Crutchie, making sure to be mindful of the wires attached to him.


If you were to peek into Ms. Medda’s house one week later, you would find a mess. Medda wouldn’t let Crutchie go back to his small flat on his own after the events, “Especially not when you’re still sick young man.”. Two teenage boys can make quite a mess, Medda will tell you that.

You’ll also find two boys curled up on the sofa, eating chocolate bars and humming along to Zac Efron.

anonymous asked:



So let’s say Harry’s a police officer. And at his police station, there’s a rather cute secretary girl who is in charge of organizing meetings, the filing system, and things of the such. They’ve known eachother for a while now, being in the same friend loop since she’d met Niall in college and he knew him even before college.

They’d gone out for drinks together, movie nights, eachother’s birthday parties– the whole shabam. They’re pretty close, to say the least.

And Harry has this crush on her that he can’t shake, but he’s too shy to ask her out. She’s really adorable, he finds. Kinda clumsy and really sweet. The kind of sweet where she brings him, Niall, Liam and Louis coffee almost every Friday as a gift for “keeping our streets free of psychopaths and, even worse, teenagers breaking curfew.”

And he sense that she might return his feeling because out of all the coffees she brings, his is always special. All of them are usually plain old black coffee, except for his. Sometimes he’ll taste hints of nutmeg and cinnamon. Sometimes vanilla chai. And in the winter, his favorite hot chocolate from the cafe down the street. She always puts in a little extra effort for him, without saying a word about it. It’s their own little secret.

And one Friday night, after getting of his shift, still in his uniform since he takes it home at the end of the work week to wash it, he decides to stop by his favorite farmer’s shop halfway home. It’s a dainty little shop run by a nice elderly woman named Rue, who always knows exactly what herbs and tea leaves he likes to buy. He’d decided to stop by because he was about to run out of chamomile and he knows she closes at 9 PM.

He pulls up to the store at 8:49, rushing in just as she’s starting to close down shop. But she’s too fond of him to send him back out so she rings him up while tutting at him over the brim of her bifocals.

Next to the little shop is a small pub– one he’s been to a handful of times with some friends. And as he’s walking out, someone else is too.

And sure enough, it’s Y/N, wrapped up in a long coat in a pair of uncomfortable looking heels with an empty expression on her pretty face. Harry had noticed she’d left earlier today than usual, but hadn’t paid much attention because it was non of his business.

But he can’t help but want to talk to her.

“Y'know, it’s kinda dangerous for a girl to be out and about all on her own so late at night.”

She turns to him startled, but then gives him a playful eye roll. “Oh, yeah. 9 PM on a Friday night is most definitely the witching hour.”

And basically she tells him that her and some girl friends had planned to go out tonight and have some fun bar hopping, but that she wasn’t really feeling it much anymore. “I was excited today when I left but for some reason, it just went away after one drink. And since Valery is the one in charge of getting us all home, i didn’t bring my car and so she has to stay, meaning I need a taxi.”

“Well, i can give you a ride.” Harry immediately volunteers, signaling his car by lifting his hand towards it, grocery bag bouncing from his wrist.

“That’d be amazing, Har. Thank you so much.”

Harry gives her a small smile, thanking the universe that it’s dark out so she can’t see him blushing at the use of “Har.”

And when they get to her apartment complex, she gives him a tiny smile over the rolled down window. “Do you wanna come in for something to eat? I’ve got Domino’s leftovers that are just screaming to be eaten.”

She claims it’s a thank you for the trip, and Harry doesn’t mind at all. His Friday night is going better than he expected. He can’t say how many times he’s dreamt of spending time with her alone, just the two of them, even if it’s something as simple as munching on veggie pizza.

They entertain themselves with leaning against her kitchen island and counter, across from eachother, chatting and somehow they end up messing around by picking off the veggie toppings and trying to get them into eachother’s mouths by tossing them.

The game is going swell until Harry misaims, a piece of green olive ending up on Y/N’s eyelashes.

“You did that on purpose!” She claims, chucking a piece of pineapple at his nose and laughing when it disorients him.

“No I didn’t! But you sure did.” Another olive ends up on the top of her cheek.

After a few more chucks of food, they’re a giggling mess, picking up stuff from the ground and sticking their tongues out at eachother playfully. Harry sees a slice of green bell pepper has ended up in her hair, alerting her.

“Hold on. You’ve got a little…here, I got it.” He untangles the food from her locks, scrunching his nose as he chucks it into the garbage bin.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him softly, her eyes big and bright, probably from that one drink she’d had.

“Yeah, no problem. Saving the day is kinda what I do,” Harry taps his name tag, the words “Officer H. Styles” written into metal. “Not to brag or anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. You’re definitely bragging now.”

“I mean, officer of the year is a pretty big deal. Especially since I’m the youngest.”

She gives her eyebrows a quirk, not noticing how much closer she’s gotten to him. “Really, now?”

But Harry notices. She’s so close that when he tilts his face down to look at her, his chin presses against the center of his collarbone. He gives his lips a cocky smirk, eyes flirting over her own tinted one’s and fighting the urge to surge forward and bite them. “Yep.”

“Well, Mr. Officer of The Year…You have anything else worth bragging about?” And now her fingers are playing at the clasp of his belt buckle and he feels like there’s fire lapping at his back.

Y/N looks down at her fingers, then back up at him, eyes questioning, wanting to make sure this was okay. Wanting to know he wants it too.

And, fuck, does he want it. “Sure do. Care for some visual evidence?”

And then he’s slamming her back against the kitchen island, her hands fiddling with his leather belt as one of his hands cradles her jaw to bring her lips to his, the other shoving down the front of her jeans and toying at her clit over her damp undies, a needy whine leaving his mouth as he feels one of her hands tug harshly at his freshly-trimmed curls.

She unbuttons his uniform shirt but begs him to keep it on, saying he looks incredibly hot in it.

“Y'gonna punish me, Officer Styles? I pelted you with food, after all. Isn’t that an act of aggression?”

“You’re into that?” He breathes out heavily into her mouth, biting her bottom lip roughly and grinning into the kiss when she let’s out a tiny whimper. “God, where have you been all my life?”

randomdcrambles  asked:

Not to overbear u with Kastle writing prompts, but can u please write a Kastle coffee shop au? (Karen the bookstore barista and Castle looking for good coffee and a new Jack Reacher novel) I don't think anyone has done this which is surprising because coffee is Frank's lifeblood, lol.

Hello, hello! I’m sorryyyy, it took so long! I was supposed to have answered this one like one day after you sent it, but, you know, life. 

Here it is, though. It’s really fluffy, because I need fluff, like alot of it. I do sincerely hope you like it. Let me know. 

Much love ♥

Espresso and caramel

He first walked in there looking for one specific novel. After reading the synopsis on a magazine on the subway, he was interested, and walked in this small bookshop near his apartment to look for it.

He found a copy fast enough, it wasn’t difficult. But then he sat down to read it, on the counter of the small café on the very back of the place, and it felt like he got the story by the middle of it.

“That is the fifth book”, came a voice from behind the counter.

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