angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Somewhere In Brooklyn // Sebastian Stan

   "Anyone sitting there?" Someone asked and you looked up from your laptop, pulling out a headphone. A tall, dark-haired man was stood in the aisle beside the set of two cramped seats you were hunched up on, your bad resting on the one furthest from the window so you could sit there. You pulled it off quickly, slipping it between your legs on the floor, and smiled.

   "No, no..."

   "Mind if I?"

   "Yeah, no, of course." You sat a little straighter and dimmed the screen of your laptop so the man couldn't see your writing. He pushed his own bag onto the overhead rack, then sat beside you. The stark yellow lights above that made everyone else on the train seem sickly and sweaty only made him more appealing - thick brow, excited eyes, plump lips, strong nose, stubble shadowing his cut-glass jawline and high cheekbones. You doubted you looked anywhere near as good in your old skater skirt, Converse high tops, well-worn T-shirt and leather jacket.

   "Yeah, that works better." You heard the man say and you glanced at him, assuming he was on the phone. But he wasn't - he was smiling straight at you. He nodded at your laptop.

   "Changing 'enchanting' for 'vivacious'. Vivacious works better." You blushed delightedly, though you tried to laugh as a cover-up.

   "Nosy."

   "Sebastian, actually."

   "Nosy is more accurate." It wasn't; he looked like a Sebastian. No other name would suit him quite as well. He rubbed his hands on his dark jeans, still looking at you.

   "I'm Lottie." You finally smiled, sensing he wanted to know. He grinned.

   "Just Lottie?"

   "Colette Maia Adler."

   "That's a solid name."

   "It's a sucky name, and I've just told it to a stranger."

   "I'm Sebastian Stan. I act, and I'm going to Queens. Now we're not strangers."

   "You still have no idea what I do for a living, or where I'm going. You're not a stranger, but I am, and I'm the strangest one out there."

   "You're a novelist, and you're going somewhere in Brooklyn. And your mom brought you up on her own, or at least she's the only parent in your life right now. And you're from England. There, you're really easy to read, and still probably strange, but not a stranger." He beamed, evidently proud of himself. You blinked, astounded.

   "How the Hell did you work that out?"

   "There's a book on the floor that fell out of your bag with your name on it, you've got a picture of you and a woman who really looks like you on your phone case and you've got a really cute accent." You blushed a little at the last thing.

   "And you know where I'm going how?"

   "Because," he picked up the headphone you still hadn't put back in your ear, "You're listening to that song by Bruno Mars on repeat. And you know what, Lottie?"

   "What?"

   "I think I might be going somewhere in Brooklyn too."

   "Oh? And why's that?"

   "Because you intrigue me, and I have no idea why." Your heads were far too close together by that point and so you both whispered, his breath warm on your cheeks. You smirked a little.

   "It's because of my mysterious British accent."

   "Whatever you say, Colette."

~~~~~

i got b o r e d 

and don't wanna finish this shit

bc i'm t i r e d 

and i need my beauty sleep

night loves

viv x