As I write more and more for the Date Everything fandom I'm going to add them onto here to make it easier for folks to find what it is exactly they're looking for. Right now there isn't much, but soon there will be more!
Requests are open!!
Longfics~
My longfics are independent from any oneshots I post unless stated otherwise!
"The Blame." Volt x Eddie x Avory
Chapter 1: "Someone You Don't Know." WC- 6,205
Chapter 2: "Don't Suffer Alone." WC- 9,786
Chapter 3: "You Looked So Pretty." WC- 4,179
Chapter 4: "Buried in Venice."
Chapter 5: "Daylight."
Chapter 6: "Temptation."
Chapter 7: Title Pending
Chapter 8: Title Pending
Chapter 9: Title Pending
Chapter 10: Title Pending
Oneshots~
Canon x Reader:
Dorian:
"Mind If I Lay Here a Spell? Pt. 1" - Fluff
"Mind If I Lay Here a Spell? Pt.2" - Fluff
~~
Canon x Sona/OC:
Volt and Eddie:
"The Lap of Luxury. Volt x Eddie x Avory (Sona)." - Fluff
"Like Real People Do. Volt x Eddie x Avory (Sona)." - Fluff/Angst
~~
Date Everything OC's:
Avory Pearl-Lynn
I'll be updating this as I go! There are going to be some works that I post exclusively to Ao3 for the moment as I learn and get more comfortable with the layout of Tumblr and I'll link them here but add a note saying it's an Ao3 fic.
Nothing makes me angrier than the “Minimum wage jobs are intended for teenagers, of course adults can’t live off the wages, they should get real jobs.” bullshit. Not only are you pro child labor but you’re pro underpaying children for their labor? Also, there are so many teenagers out there working to survive and pay rent and support themselves and their families and these jobs are fucking brutal. Pay them what they deserve.
Me: Fuck, the paper towels I want are on the top shelf.
The Sir David Attenborough That Lives In My Brain: Being smaller-than-average presents an added challenge to foraging ... but necessity is the mother of invention. A little creativity turns a baguette into a tool, and voilà--
idk if it's just me but i'm glad that the majority of people outside of here believe tumblr is a dead site because like i've been here for 13 years and like this is my house??? i don't need thousands upon thousands of people flocking here it'd be like inviting chimps to a house party total fucking carnage
Giyuu literally wrote to Urokodaki "i did smth illegal as a demon slayer and as a hashira but i ll send said illegal thing to you so that you can be part of it AND risk your life for it as a demon slayer and as a hashira" and Urokodaki just wrote back "bet"
Like Giyuu had his doubts about himself and all that depressed shit but him and Urokodaki were like this 🤞🏻
I still think the most devastating enshittification I've ever seen has been picrew. One of the few dress-up game websites left that's not flash-based and it's become DRENCHED in ads. You can't open the home screen without being blasted by at least three or four ads. You can't open two picrews in a row without watching a video ad first. When you have a picrew open the ads cover up the different options and sometimes even stack on each other so you have to hit like 2 or 3 different x buttons to get it to go away, only for more to appear seconds later. Evil world
For once I can be the one to promote alternate sites, my time to shine has finally come
Now I will say I do use an adblocker so I can't say how many ads all these places have, but- Here's some other places you can go to dress up little characters on your screen!
meiker.io - A free dress-up/character creator tool/platform filled with a TON of neat little games. There ARE ads on this site unfortunately but imo they aren't overwhelming (and from what I understand them running ads helps keep the site free, so). I've been using this site off and on for years already bc most games are fullbody instead of headshots, which I find more helpful w oc creation, and I can say in my experience it all runs extremely smoothly :) of everything here this site is the most similar to picrew
DollDivine - One of the classic dress-up game websites. Not only is it still up but it is actively being updated with new games, and the owner has been working to try and transfer the old flash games into a program called Ruffle so that they can still be played. Most of the games that I played when I was younger are already back up and working again thanks to this. DollDivine is also the host site for the games featured on Rinmaru Games back in the day so if you were like me and lived and breathed that site for most of your pre-teen years, you will be delighted to know that many of those games were saved here! :D
Azalea's Dolls - Another classic one that is still running and still being added to! If you like Disney/fairytale-esque dress-up games you will love this website, they have some BEAUTIFUL games. They have also been transferring many of their old games into Ruffle, so a good chunk of those will be working again too.
PastelKatto Games - A site owned/managed by one of my personal favourite developers back in the day. While the creator has moved on from publishing their own games they still update the site with other games every so often, and the catalog of games they created over the course of the last decade or so is absolutely worth your time. The range of options they would give to players for characters included a wide range of skin tones, vitiligo, missing limbs + prosthetics, scars/burn marks, and more. Plus their art is also just really, really pretty.
VeggieStudio - If you like anime-esque games then this is the site for you. Their catalog may be quite small, but all the games on this site are beautifully drawn. You may recognize their style if you played any Rinmaru games, as they did the art for a few of those back in the day.
Most of these sites mainly feature games that center around female/feminine characters, but there ARE games where you can make guys/masculine characters as well. But just a heads up in advance. None of them are hardwired for pfp creation either, so if you're looking for that you might not find a lot here. But otherwise, def check these sites out! The flash purge hit dress-up game communities HARD but people have been working to keep things running in some form or another ever since the news dropped. It's been rough, but all has not been lost and a lot of the old games I used to play are now playable again! :D
Did you ever just feel so lucky for knowing someone you met online? Like.. I was one click away from not following you. I was one second away from never even knowing of your existence.I would never have been this happy!!!...
there's a reason this ISNT taught in school. it's because they want you to believe that your struggles are your fault and not the fault of the ruling class hoarding all the wealth
My Date Everything longfic 'The Blame' is on hiatus for an indefinite amount of time. I don't know when or honestly if I'll continue on with the story. In the event that I don't finish the story, I will post a break down of my thought process and how I had wanted the story to go.
This being said, I will continue to write for the Date Everything Fandom, it'll likely just be oneshots or smaller fics. The Blame in it's completion is looking to be 15 chapters long, and based off my writing style/habit, each chapter would contain anywhere from 4k-20k words.
I am considering cross posting some of my Ao3 works onto here. For those who may not know, I write for many fandoms. Whether or not I PUBLISH what I've written is another story. Some fandoms I write for are;
Pokémon, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Transformers, Potterverse: Hogwarts Legacy, BG3(more on this one soon), Voltron: Legendary Defender, Yautja/Predatorverse, and Cookie Run Kingdom.
I've recently gotten into Baulders Gate 3. I had bought the game about a year ago but only started playing a few days ago and it's given me the inspiration to write a few crackfics, especially the live DND sessions done with the voice actors. One I'm cooking up is when Astarion asks 'Where's Tav?!' and it just cuts to Tav having a grand old time at a bar, dancing and living it up. Because honestly? After everything they've been through, they've earned it.
I'm also planning on writing a Non-Tav Oc x Wyll fanfiction. I've found that I actually really enjoy writing chapters that have the audiences feedback/input. So if you see polls go up, just know that I'm grinding away at writing a fanfic.
Progress will be slow most likely with whatever project I decide to do, especially if I commit to the little daydream ideas I've been having about any 'serious' BG3 fanfictions, as I will likely have the whole story written before posting it.
Now, despite this my requests are open but I do have a few rules that I'll post tomorrow. It's almost midnight for me at the time of me writing this and I've been cleaning out a garage for most of today.
Thank you all for your patience and continued support. It means more to me than you realize.
You're stupid car has broke down (you don't mean that, she's your baby), and now Tony is playing taxi driver!
Isn't he the sweetest?
(Spoiler: he isn't)
-----
Reader hates seafood 😓😓 (for no reason, certainly because I'm projecting my disdain for seafood onto reader).
It’s a slow Tuesday (arguably worse than Monday’s) and you’re trying to close up at work. You still have a few loose ends to tie up: signing a few permission slips for the interns, picking up the mess you’ve made after being in the office for over seventeen hours- oh, god! Seventeen hours? You didn’t think it was that late.
Sure, you saw the sun setting and you probably should’ve started going home when your colleagues began to do so, but you didn’t! You had to finish something! And then there was another thing and now it’s midnight! Big whoop!
It’s not like there’s anyone back home waiting for you: you haven’t heard from Sam since Saturday, Beverly is busy today, you haven’t even heard from Tony aside from the stupid video of a kid getting tripped yesterday evening.
It’s not a big deal! You miss Sam, but you’re glad she’s having fun with Jeremy. You understand that Beverly is busy, so are you, and you don’t miss Tony, at all! Not even a little bit! You press your fingers into the corners of your eyes, trying to unblur the computer screen. You really need to get blue light glasses or something, but the blurriness means it is officially time to go home, no more excuses. You’ll be back in seven hours anyway.
The parking lot is nearly empty, other than a few company cars and yours. It takes a few tries to get the key into the door lock, but you manage, dipping into the car. You turn the key in the ignition once, twice, and then the car makes an incredibly concerning noise.
“No, no, no, nooooo,” you groan under your breath, trying again, only to be met with a sputtering engine. “Fuck. my. Life,” you emphasize each word with a bang of your head against the steering wheel, the horn beeping with each tap.
You want to scream, but you’d never yell at your baby, it’s not her fault that something is wrong with her. You can’t even call Sam, and there’s no way you’re ordering a ride service this late at night. You could crash on the couch in your office…That can be plan B. Plan A is to bother a certain somebody.
You almost feel bad about it; not bad enough not to do it, though.
‘You up?’
You lean against the car door, waiting impatiently for a text to come through. You tilt your head back to stare at the night sky, counting the endless little dots. You puff out breath, making fog circles in the cold night air. It takes a few minutes, but he finally responds.
‘Holy shit, is this a booty call, Sugar?’
‘In your dreams, Cupid.’
‘Yes it is ;)’
‘You know what, never mind. I don’t need anything. Go back to bed, or whatever you were doing.’
‘No, heyyyyy, c’mon. What’s up?’
‘Your dick, apparently.’
‘Look at the funny guy over here.’
‘I know, I’m hilarious.’
‘But I do need something.’
‘Hit me.’
‘... I sort of need a ride, my car decided to die.’
‘Where the fuck do you need a ride to this late?’
‘My apartment.’
‘You aren’t home?’
‘Nope. Just finished work.’
‘Jesus, Doc. You sure your car isn’t the only thing that’s dead?’
‘Don’t even start. Can you pick me up or not?’
‘I kind of need the address.’
You hesitate before sending him your work address. You crawl into the backseat, laying across the worn leather. They’re so comfy, and it wouldn’t hurt to take a nap while you wait for Tony. You’re nearly asleep when there’s a knock on the window, jolting upwards at the sudden noise.
“Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” he teases, stepping out of the way, so you can open the door and get out. “Let’s go.”
“And just leave my car here?” you ask back, frowning at your car. You’d hate for her to get dinged or stolen; you know that Vortex has a high security system, but you can’t help but worry about your baby.
“Well, I’m not playing midnight mechanic, that’s for sure,” he chuckles, jutting his head back towards his car, “Lets go. Your car will be fine here overnight.”
“Then how am I supposed to get to work in the morning?” you question, sinking into his warm car. If there’s one thing you hate about not having a modern car, it’s the lack of heated seats in your beautiful vintage.
“I know where you work now, I’ll drive you,” he shrugs, setting his arm over the back of your seat, looking backwards to pull out of the parking spot. “So why’re you at the office so late? Was it your night to babysit the xenomorphs?”
“Yep. I got stuck with the midnight feedings, sadly,” you sigh melancholically, melting into the warm set, even as it starts to burn your butt, “...But no, honestly… I just didn’t feel like going home. Which was obviously foreshadowing to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to go home.”
“Obviously,” he parrots, using a dramatic accent, dragging out the syllables, “I’m surprised you don’t have a bed in your lab.”
“I have a couch in my office,” you say, dryly snorting, leaning forward to flick the radio on, turning the volume down low.
“I thought you worked in a lab?” he asks, waiting until you move back to your original position to switch stations from the modern pop it was on to some sort of 2000’s rock.
“I do, but as head scientist, I have a private lab, which has a cojoining office,” you explain, quietly humming along to the Shinedown song that’s playing,
“Fancy,” he comments, nodding at your explanation, beginning to hum along as well, “Do you enjoy your job?” he asks quietly, glancing over at you with a surprisingly soft expression; it’s as if all the annoyingly faux charm has dropped in the early morning hours.
“...Yeah, I do, thankfully. I’ve worked there since I was in college, and it’s hard at times, stressful, but I love what I do,” you whisper, resting your head against the cool window, using it to soothe the pounding of your head.
------------
“I’d hope so, considering the hours you work,” he says, quietly huffing. Tony loves his job, a lot, but he could never imagine pulling the hours you do. That’s part of why he loves his job, he’s the boss, he gets to set his own hours.
He can see you from the corner of his eye; you look peaceful, almost. You’re tired too, he can’t begin to imagine why. You’re asleep when he makes it to your complex. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you up, the other part remembers you woke him up from a nap by tossing water over his head. He’s going to wake you up, very rudely: payback.
“Sugar, we’re here,” he whispers, lightly nudging your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, “I’m not carrying you there.”
You stir, waking with a groan, swatting his hand away. Violent, even barely lucid, why doesn’t that surprise him? He snorts, getting out of his car, coming around to the passenger side. He leans in, unbuckling your seatbelt, which gets you to come back to the land of the living, pushing him away to stumble your way out of the car.
You don’t say anything the entire way up; for once, neither does he. You’re clearly dead on your feet, he’s not going to be a complete asshole and bother you while you’re like this. You walk right into your apartment- you still haven’t locked the door, he sees.
He tosses himself onto the couch, sprawling out on it. You freeze in the hallway, hand hovering over the light switch panel, “What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep,” he answers, like it’s obvious, pulling a blanket over him, “I woke up at midnight to pick you up from work, and I’m driving you to work in the morning, I’m not going anywhere.”
You stand there, staring blankly at something, seemingly debating whether or not it’s worth it to argue with him. In the end, you decide to roll your eyes, but not say anything else, trudging down the hallway to your room.
----
Tony starts waking up when his legs get shoved off the couch, groaning at being awakened. He feels like he’s barely gotten any sleep. He sits up, blinking heavily, trying to wake up a little more.
“What time is it?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep. You come into focus, all dressed and ready for the day, some sort of energy drink hanging loosely in your hand.
“Mmm…” you lean backwards, craning your neck towards the kitchen to read the oven clock, “6:31”
Tony’s brain freezes for a moment, still trying to wake up. No wonder he feels like he hasn’t gotten any sleep, “Jesus Christ, why are you up so early?”
“Because I need to be at work by seven, sooooo… It’s a twenty minute drive, you might want to,” you trail off, pursing your lips, “Wake up a little more.”
“Why do you need to be at work by seven? You were just there!” he exclaims, staring at you like you’ve gone crazy. You probably have! No one can work that long on six hours of sleep, or however long you’ve been up because god knows when you actually woke up. “Can’t you be a few hours late?”
“Nope,” you shake your head, lightly patting his thigh before getting up, “You’re the one who said you’ll drive me to work.”
“I’m regretting that,” he grumbles, rolling his neck, which is surprisingly not sore, your couch is comfortable as hell.
------------
You snicker at Tony’s annoyance, happy to be the nuisance for once, instead of the other way around. Can you be a few hours late instead of getting to the lab at seven? Yeah! Technically, the lab doesn’t even open until eight, but you like getting a head start on the day!
“You have nothing for breakfast,” Tony points out, rummaging through your cabinets, still looking ruffled.
“I don’t eat breakfast,” you shrug, twirling your keys around on your finger, "Let's go.”
“‘Let’s go,’” Tony mocks up under his breath, following you out the door.
“I’m stopping for breakfast,” he tells you as the two of you get into the car, scratching his stomach. The action reveals a sliver of those stupid abs, and a small freckle beside his belly button.
You’ve never noticed that in any of the million pictures he’s sent you. You wonder how many freckles and moles he actually has, “You can stop for breakfast after you drop me off,” you huff.
“Too late,” he drawls, pulling into the drive-through of some donut place. He’s woken up now because he immediately starts flirting with the employee at the window, who’s more than receptive.
“Here,” he passes you a chocolate frosted donut as you guys get back onto the road, munching on his jelly donut. “I didn’t know what you liked.”
“We’re right to each other, you could’ve asked,” you say, taking the offered donut. Just because you don’t eat breakfast at home, doesn’t mean you won’t eat a free donut.
“You would’ve said you didn’t want anything,” he retorts, turning on the radio, bopping his head along to the music.
He’s not wrong, you would’ve. He doesn’t need to know that. You’re not that mad about him stopping for breakfast, it keeps him quiet most of the drive, other than when he was obscenely moaning over how good the donut was.
“Why is the parking lot empty?” Tony asks, pulling into the parking spot next to your car.
“Because I get to work earlier than everyone else,” you shrug, getting out of the car, slamming the door before he can yell at you.
He gets out of the car, glaring daggers at you, “But you couldn’t spare a few hours to let me get some actual sleep?” he asks, his left eye twitching.
“...Yep,” you nod, meticulously inspecting your car to make sure she doesn’t have any bumps, dents, or blemishes. “I should call a tow truck, get her in with a mechanic.”
“And now you’re insulting me?” he scoffs, pushing you out of the way to pop the hood. He spends several minutes under there, muttering indistinctly to himself. He slowly closes the hood, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, “You should call a tow truck.”
“Uh-huh, I know. I already did,” you tell him, enjoying the way his face falls. You understand why he fucks with you so much, it’s funny. “You’re free to leave; you don’t need to stick around.”
“Don’t sound so eager to get away from me, Sugar,” he teases, leaning against your car next to you, “I’ll stick around until the tow truck comes.”
“How gentlemanly,” you snort, rubbing underneath your eye, then up to your temples.
“...Aren’t you tired?” he asks after a moment of hesitance, staring at you like he’s trying to see into you.
“Not really,” except you are, you’ve never been an early riser, but is it technically early rising if you never went to bed? You think not. “I pulled too many all-nighters in college to get exhausted at work.”
“Ah, ok,” he nods slowly, clearly not believing what your saying, “You--”
The tow truck interrupts him, screeching into the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of Tony’s car. You converse with the driver, giving him your information to relay to the mechanic, so they can call you when they have a prognosis.
Tony pushes himself off the car, rolling his shoulders, “Well…Call me if you need another ride,” he says, winking at you.
You flip him off as he gets into his car, watching him drive off. You hope there’s nothing majorly wrong with your baby. You decide to text Sam before you head up to your lab, just a simple request to talk.
----
The mechanic called you a few hours ago, telling you that there’s something wrong with your car. Apparently, some doohickey broke and since your car is vintage, it’ll take at least two weeks for him to get the part, plus another few days for him to actually fix it. In other, unrelated news, you’re sweeping up glass from a mug that you accidentally smacked off of the sink.
A notification pops up on one of your monitors, which is connected to your phone. Sam has finally texted you back:
‘Hey!’
‘soz for the late response, been stuck at the airport all day’
‘Me and Jeremy just got back!’
‘I’d love to meet up’
‘I’ve missed youuuuuu!!’
‘I missed you too, Sam. We can schedule something!’
‘Perfect! Gtg, Jeremy’s taking me out for dinner!’
‘Have fun.’
You should text Tony, ask him to come pick you up, he said he would, but you don’t want to. He’s done way too much for you; you’d rather choke than be in his debt for the rest of your life. When you get out of the building, Tony is in the nearest parking spot, much more dressed than he was this morning.
“Wow, look at that, I didn’t even have to come and get you,” he claps his hands together, walking over to you, “Before you ask, I’m here to drive you home. I happened to pass by the mechanic, so I stopped in to see how long your car would be- almost three weeks minimum, yikes.”
“Yeah, I’m aware, it sucks,” you scoff, pouting at your empty parking spot. “Are you really going to be my personal chauffeur for three weeks? Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Nope. You’re stuck with me,” he says, opening the car door for you, bowing slightly, “After you.”
“Thank you,” you sneer, stomping on his foot as you get into the car.
He yelps (akin to that of a little girl), “You’re so mean,” he tells you, pouting like a child.
“And you’re annoying,” you retort, also like a child, he brings the immaturity out of you! “Uhm…You’re going the wrong way,” you point out when he makes a right out of the parking lot instead of a left.
“No, I’m not. I told you, I’m taking you grocery shopping,” he corrects you, reaching over, blindly, to flick your ear. He ends up hitting your cheek.
“I told you, you’re not my mother, you don’t need to drive me around and take me grocery shopping,” you say, batting at his hand, rubbing the spot he just flicked. “What’s next: are you going to do my laundry?”
“Ha! I draw the line at laundry,” he snorts, running a hand through his hair. “You know, I’m surprised you’re off at a decent time. It’s only six.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know, I was going to go out for dinner,” you say, watching the evening traffic move slowly by you.
------------
You had dinner plans, and he’s kidnapping you to go grocery shopping. Oh well! The fucker who’s going on date with you will have to wait! When did you even have time to find a date? Are you going on a date with a coworker? How scandalous, doctor.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” he can’t help asking; you, the love hater, are going on a date. Who managed to bag you?
“John at Olive Garden,” you answer, sighing quietly, “It’s been a while.”
“Oh…An ex?” he grimaces, side-eyeing you. He did not take you for the type that runs back to exes. “And he can’t even bother to take you to a good restaurant? Fake ass Italian food.”
“No? What? John is my waiter at Olive Garden. Before I got promoted I would go every two weeks on Tuesday,” you say, now looking at him in confusion, then you laugh, “Oh, my god. You thought I had a date? Absolutely not.”
Oh…He feels stupid now, and weirdly relieved. There’s no ex-boyfriend named John taking you to some shitty food joint, “...John’s going to have to miss you again tonight.”
“Ya think?” you snicker, looking all too amused at his mistake. “Fine, I’ll miss out on Olive Garden- which, by the way, is fantastic. I don’t care if it’s ‘fake ass Italian food’.”
“You are never meeting my mother,” he mutters, shaking his head. His mother would smack you upside the head for saying that. Maybe he should take you to meet his mother.
“Okay and..? You’re never meeting my parents,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “My mom would not like you.”
“Good. I’ll never meet her!”
“Good! I’ll never meet your mother!”
“Good,” he repeats, jerking his head to look away from you.
The rest of the drive is in silence, the two of you stewing in irritation. Tony grabs a cart, donning himself king of this grocery trip. He doesn’t know what you like, but he knows what you need, so he starts there. You don’t bother to argue, following behind him the way his father used to follow his mother during their shopping trips: sulky and annoyed.
You only talk again when he goes to grab shrimp, smacking the bag right out of his hand, “I don’t like seafood,” you say, grabbing the bag off the floor to put it back into its proper spot.
“You allergic?” he asks, moving away from the seafood before you smack him again.
“No, I just don’t like seafood,” you shrug, grabbing a giant bag of shredded cheese when you pass the cheese.
“Why not?” he questions, shaking his head at the huge bag of shredded cheese; why do you need that? Who needs that much cheese?
“I don’t know, I’ve just never liked seafood,” you say, and now you’re back to being all broody. They should hire you to play Batman, you’ve really got that scowl down, all you need is a little dark eyeliner.
A full grocery cart, and two hundred dollars later, you’ve finally made it home. Now, for the challenge of bringing everything up to your place. Tony helps you load bags onto your arms, then he does the same; somehow, the two of you manage to get everything in one go.
“You know, if your show ever gets cancelled, you could have a career as a professional grocery shopper,” you tell him while putting the half gallon of milk you got into the fridge.
“Thanks,” he mutters, putting away the final items of the haul. He rubs his sore arms, pressing into the indents that are still there from carrying the grocery bags in. “There! Beautiful,” he exclaims looking at the organized cabinets and pantry.
“Yep…Jeez, I cannot remember the last time I had a full fridge,” you sigh, looking over the pantry, snagging a snack cake, “Thanks for taking me shopping against my will.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says, stealing the package from you, eating the second cake from the pack before you can take it back, “These are good!”
“I’d smack you, but my hands hurt,” you tell him, glaring at him, “Just know, I’m mentally hitting you.”
“Oh, Doc, you fantasize about me?” he asks teasingly, stepping into your personal space, wiping frosting off the corner of your mouth, “I’m flattered.”
You flick his forehead, pushing him away, walking around him to get into the living room. He swears he saw you blush! The unflappable doctor has blushed! He knew he’d crack you eventually.
An alarm rings out in the room, and Tony curses. He didn’t realize it was already eight, he’s going to be late, “I’ve gotta go.”
“Please do,” you say, a little too quickly, in his opinion. How rude. “Let the door hit’cha on the way out.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises, blowing you a kiss on his way out the door.
------------
Wait, why is he going to be here tomorrow? You can’t even ask him because he’s already gone! There’s no way he’s picking you up. He said he was going to play chauffeur for you, but you didn’t think he was serious. He has a life, a job to go to, people to hang out with.
You’re still thinking about when you lay down in bed. He’s kidding, he’s not going to show up tomorrow to drive you to work.
The smell of bacon coaxes you out of sleep. Your first thought is ‘yummy, bacon’, the next is ‘someone broke into my apartment to make bacon’. You wrap your blanket tightly around your shoulders, slowly leaving your room. You peek around the corner, and there’s Tony, standing at your stove, flipping bacon in a pan.
You locked your door this time, you're sure! Like, ninety-nine percent sure, maybe ninety…seventy-ish percent sure you locked it!
“Morning, Sugar,” he grins, looking over his shoulder at you, “Go get dressed, we’ve gotta leave in forty minutes,” he says, waving a spatula in your direction.
You stare at him for a long second then turn back around to go get dressed. You guys eat breakfast, and head to your work. Your apartment is on the way to the Fix It Ton studio, so he is in fact willing to drive you around. You’re sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he had a shit eating grin while blasting the world’s most obnoxious music.
That becomes the routine for the next two weeks: he breaks in to make breakfast, or bring donuts, he drops you off at work, then he picks you up at nine (if you work any later, he’s stated that you’re shit out of luck, as it’s the latest he’ll pick you up).
It’s surprisingly bearable. It’s kind of nice having a schedule and being forced out of work at a decent hour. Tony is also…not totally horrible. He’s still the world’s biggest jackwagon, but he’s been doing you a solid for the past two and half weeks, the least you can do is find him not completely unbearable to be around. You still hate him, and can’t wait for your car to be fixed!
You’re packing up your stuff, ready to go meet Tony downstairs when he texts you:
‘I’ve got a date tonight…Are you good with me not being able to come pick you up?’
‘Yeah! That’s fine.’
‘I wanted to stay late anyway. Have fun with your date.’
‘You know I will, Sugar ;)’
You set your bag back down, chewing on your bottom lip. There’s an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. Heart burn, stupid, stupid heart burn. It really is fine! You didn’t plan on working late, but you know you can find something to do.
Your work phone rings in your office, snapping you out of your zone. You click the speaker button, accepting the call, “Hey, what’s up?”
“There’s someone here for you, do you want to come down or shall I send them up?” the front desk lady, Alexandria, asks.
“You can send them up,” you tell her, hanging up shortly after.
Sam comes into your office a few minutes later, sporting a large smile. She rushes over, wrapping you in a tight hug, “Hi!” she squeals, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” you tell her, patting her back until she releases you from the hug. She sits down on the couch in your office, patting the spot next to her.
“Great, we can finally--”
“I am so excited to tell you about my weekend with Jeremy,” she interrupts you, taking your hands in hers, shaking like she’s about to burst.
“Oh…Yeah, great,” you nod, the tightening in your chest constricting slowly around your heart like a boa constrictor. You figured she came here so you guys can finally talk it out… “Tell me about it!”
She squeals, shaking your hands, “I loved it, it was so fun. His family was there and they were all super nice. We rode so many rides and had a bunch of drinks and it was so nice!” she says, turning to face you, “I know it’s early days with me and Jeremy, but I really like him, and I think if we can survive a family trip together, then we can survive a lot together.”
“Ha, yeah… I remember back when I was a kid, I’m surprised my parents didn’t get divorced at an amusement park,” you say with a quiet laugh. There was nothing more stressful than trying to schedule a family trip to an amusement park with your family.
“Yeah, I remember your parents bringing me along once. I’ve never heard that many passive aggressive comments thrown out,” she giggles, leaning forward to wrap you into another hug, squeezing you. “Ugh, I missed you! Do you want to see the pictures?”
“I’d love to,” you murmur, stiffly accepting the hug, paying half attention when she starts swiping through pictures, providing brief explanations of the origins for each.
She receives a text from Jeremy, something along the lines of him asking her to meet him at some restaurant, “I’m sorry, I need to go. See you soon, yeah?” she stands up, kissing both of your cheeks, leaving without bothering to wait for you to respond.
“Yeah, see you soon,” you mutter, long after she’s gone. You sigh, scratching the back of your neck, laying down on the couch.
“Doctor,” Alexandria speaks, reminding you that you forgot to turn off the phone, “Someone is requesting to come up to your lab again.”
You roll off the couch, moving across the floor on your knees, leaning across the table to press the button, “Send them up.” You assume it’s Sam, maybe she forgot something, you don’t think she did, but who else would it be?
“Sugar, guess who’s here?” a familiar accented voice sing-songs; his head pops into your office, breaking into a grin when he sees you on the floor.
“Why are you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. He’s supposed to be on a date.
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“My date cancelled on me, soooooo…” Tony enters the office, holding up two containers of pasta- actual, homemade Italian food, no Olive Garden bullshit.
What he doesn’t tell you is that his date didn’t cancel on him. He cancelled on his date. He was halfway through making dinner for them when it hit him that he felt bad. He promised he’d be your ride while your car was broken and he just ghosted you! It had nothing to do with the fact that the guy he was on a date with looked at him with goo-goo eyes instead of a perpetually annoyed glare.
“You brought me your leftovers?” you ask, raising a brow at him. You stand up with a groan, taking one of the containers from him, popping it open, and immediately gagging. There’s shrimp in it.
Tony switches the containers, handing you the one he may or may not have specifically made shrimp free for you, “I brought you fresh food- that one doesn’t have shrimp in it. Which you would’ve known had you waited, Dr. Mcsnatchy.”
You scowl at him, hesitantly opening the one he handed you, the tiniest of smiles on your face when you find shrimpless pasta inside, “Did you bring forks?”
“You’re so impatient,” he tuts, pulling forks from his pockets, passing it to you, “Bon appetit.”
“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly, stuffing food into your face. You groan, eyes shutting, “This. is. great,” you mutter, sitting down on your couch.
“I’ve been making you breakfast for two weeks and you expected something bad?” he asks, feigning offense, sitting down next to you, digging into his own food. “It’s a recipe my mom taught me.”
“Anyone can cook breakfast, making a good pasta dish takes skill,” you inform him, waggling a finger at him. “Tell your mother I said thank you.”
“I will,” he promises jokingly, knocking his foot against yours. “Your office is fancy,” he comments, standing up to go look at the degrees you have hanging on the wall, then the pictures on your desk.
“Yeah,” you nod, walking over next to him, reaching a hand out to straighten one of the picture frames. “Being head scientist comes with perks.”
“Seems like the office isn’t worth the hours you work,” he whispers, moving a few steps to the side, pulling the blinds open to stare out the window. You have really good views: your penthouse and now your office.
“Technically, it is… I choose the hours I work- or the long hours I work, I don’t need to work as long as I do,” you explain, joining him at the window. An almost comfortable silence falls over you guys as you eat.
Tony finishes his food shortly after you, taking the dirty container from you, and stacking it with his, “Well,” he sighs, “We should go home. Sun’s setting.”
“We should go home?” you repeat, a confused look creating a furrow in your brow.
“We should- I… I should bring you home, to your home, before you get sucked into work,” he corrects himself, stuttering over his words like an idiot. “Shall we?” he holds out his hand in a gentlemanly manner, smirking at you charmingly.
You sigh exasperatedly at him, but place your hand over his in a joking manner anyway, “We shall.”
Tony smiles, genuinely smiles when your palm settles over his. His hand twitches, and his fingers curl ever-so-slightly, trying to lace with yours. He quickly pulls his hand back before he can try, putting his hands into his pockets.
“Goodnight, Sugar,” he whispers, pulling into the closest parking spot to the door of your building, so you don’t have to walk far. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He’s not going to come up with you, he has to get back to his place and do the dishes before he forgets. He also has a really strong feeling settling in his chest he can’t quite explain, even to himself.
------------
“Goodnight, Cupid,” you whisper back, getting out of his car.
When you enter your bathroom to brush your teeth before bed, you’re smiling, and there’s a warm feeling in your chest. A good Italian meal will do that to you…It was nice- the meal! Nothing else, just the meal.
Not the fact that Tony brought you found, without shrimp. Nor the fact that his hand was warm and calloused against yours for the brief moment yours was in yours. Jesus, you hate him so much; you hate the way he gets in your head.
God, you can’t wait until your car is finally fixed.
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