#Friends to Enemies to lovers

[hadesisqueer]

'I want more enemies to lovers in media' a lot of you guys couldn't even handle CATRADORA

[allyricas]

there's just something so delicious about friends-to enemies-to lovers

barely teenage steve and eddie who have a devastating end to what they both thought would be a forever friendship. maybe it's a misunderstanding or maybe it's just teenage angst that felt impossible to fix in the moment.

but i am feral over the idea that the only reason steve ever became 'king steve' strutting around with tommy and carol with his aloof, semi-mean girl attitude was because of the falling out with eddie. that he did it so he didn't feel so much hurt over it. still has no idea what he did to make eddie suddenly hate him.

same with eddie. he definitely liked metal and nerdy shit all along, but maybe he only leaned into the whole 'forced conformity, it's what's killing the kids' freak persona to guard himself. as armor. because he fucking misses steve as much as he hates him. so he glares and makes snarky comments. finds his solace in DnD and his band.

they fight with words and shoulder shoves in the hallway. each of them too proud to ever talk it out and fix things. to the point that their peers don't remember that steve and eddie used to be inseparable. everyone but steve and eddie forget the obvious affection and closeness they once shared.

it takes a bunch of freshmen to put them back into each other's orbit.

it takes the upside down, a dead cheerleader and an evil wizard for them to actually get along again.

because steve is meant to hate eddie but the moment he sees the trailer and hears the word 'murder' he feels like he might throw up.

Please, god, not eddie.

only to find out he supposedly murdered chrissy cunningham. despite all the animosity between the two of them, steve knows in his soul that eddie would never kill anyone.

even when he's against a wall with sharp glass pressed to his neck, heart racing as he looks into the eyes he tries not to think about, steve knows that eddie won't actually hurt him.

steve has the urge to stay with eddie at the lake house and make sure nothing else happens to him. instead, he stops forcing himself to be an asshole towards eddie. it's exhausting and he's never truly meant it anyways. the upside-down shit is threatening the one person he hoped would never be a part of it.

it takes eddie watching steve get pulled under lover's lake and attacked by demon bats to realize that the biggest misunderstanding was of his own thirteen year old self's feelings. that he could've lost steve and he'd have never even told him the truth of why he let their friendship implode over such a ridiculous misunderstanding.

that he wanted more than friendship and that scared the hell out of him at thirteen.

he sees steve bleeding and throwing himself into danger over and over. realizes that yeah, steve harrington is a good guy. his own personal munson doctrine is fundamentally flawed and untrustworthy and he's in love with this stupidly brave man, maybe since forever.

make him pay means i'm sorry, i love you, please be safe, come back.

it takes eddie nearly dying and his steve carrying him out of hell for eddie to realize that steve never hated him either. that what eddie always views as aloofness and superiority was hurt and steve trying to deal. regardless of whatever lays in the past, steve holds him together with his hands and begs eddie to stay. whispers that he loves him, always has loved him, always will love him.

eddie thinks about all the years they lost due to teenage angst and fear. fights to keep his eyes open and stay, because steve his sobbing and begging him not to go.

and when eddie finally wakes up in the hospital, it's steve and uncle wayne next to him. steve won't leave his side, maybe ever again. neither of them with any desire to ever look at each other with anything but love.

[catras-breakup-song]

[swimmpantyz]

NOT ME. (pt 1)

gojo satoru x reader

summary: Being Satoru's classmate was difficult. Being Satoru's friend... worse. You were no one replacement. He knew that, but you still filled a place he thought no one would ever fill.

content: hurt & comfort, slow burn, teenager gojo satoru, swearing, slice of life, mention of deaths, both of you are immature, & +

trope: friends to lovers

tried to make my boy satoru the most cannon I could, but it's hard work fr

no proofread!!

Transferring from Kyoto to Tokyo shouldn't have been a big change. It's just school after all.

Yet, the first period that started in april could be called the most weird spring that you have ever experienced.

With only three more classmates to be with: Shoko, who you spent your time the most with.

Geto, who didn't talk much... But it was cool to chill around with him.

And Gojo, he was... Special.

You clearly remember his crazy ass showing off his reversed technique like an eccentric scientist who just discovered electricity.

The rest of the school seemed gloomy due to some recent loss of classmates, better said, deaths.

But none of that mattered as long as you had Shoko to keep you company. She didn't seem that fazed, yet, with the time, you started to get how she dealt with things: a cold head and desensitization, with her words "It's a key on the medical world." - seeing so much deaths that you get used to it.

Fall came along with the second period of school... Which was not surprisingly worse than the previous one.

Just days before school, Geto, the quiet guy, deserted and became a traitor. And that devastated Satoru.

Shoko wasn't the type of girl that got into other people business, and you neither. But seeing that once cheerful and cocky guy turn into... Whatever that was, felt unsettling.

"Wanna train?" You offered with a small smile when you found him staring with his eyebrows clenched at literally nothing. Maybe the sky, maybe the clouds, or maybe just the place, you couldn't tell. It was rare to find him in school, even more than before Geto's betrayal.

You were almost a hundred percent sure he was going to reject you. You actually hoped he did... But he just shrugged and walked next to you to the gym.

It was easy to figure out that he felt lonely.

"You sure?" He asked with his well known smug tone, shifting his personality so fast that you actually wondered if he had multiple personalities.

You just let a short huf, positioning yourself in the middle of the 'ring', as you started to call it. "Don't go cry about it later." And the training felt just as if you were again at the beginning of april.

It was already afternoon, and the walk back to the dormitories felt pleasingly refreshing.

Your face showing a grin from ear to ear had Satoru glaring down at you... Surprisingly, he wasn't fully untouchable yet, a small almost unnoticeable cut on his lip was a proof and winning trophy at the same time.

He was again frowning, this time with a small pout on his face.

"What are you so proud of? I'm not the one with a limping leg." His voice was more lighted up and bubbly, his all mighty personality showing little by little.

"My leg is perfectly fine, see?" You jumped on your spot, a small sting still remained on your muscles. And he kicked the back of your leg, making you hiss.

"That was uncalled?" You said, eyebrows clenching a little while dodging the next kick.

"That doesn't sound like it's fine, though?" He mocked you, his pink lips stretching as he started to smile a bit again.

"At least be a good loser." You walked faster as you spoke with a little grin, but of course he was faster and got easily in front of you.

"I could never." He smugly said, but it sounded more like just tease, leaning forward with his chest puffing out like a bird would do.

"Well, good to know you're bad at something." You teased back, his smirk turning into a small smile more friendly than it used to be.

You missed Shoko's company as Satoru started to hang out more with you.

He was cool, yeah, but you couldn't talk about all the things you used to tell Shoko.

"Recently I've been seeing the numer Pi a lot." Satoru's whose head was leaning on his desk while looking outside, turned towards you.

His mesmerizing light blue eyes stared at you... Not even the Pacific Ocean with the sun on all its glory could shine as his eyes did.

"... I've been seeing the number six a lot, too." He said, and you chuckled at his words.

"Six for... Six eyes?" You joked even though it was dumb. He rolled his eyes, a short amused huff leaving his lips.

"That could be." He went again to his resting spot... And you missed Shoko's comfort silent moments, because this one with Satoru was nothing but awkward.

"Hey, listen, it's cool, isn't it?' You turned the volume of your phone higher, Shoko listening to the music playing with a concentrated expression.

"... It's trash." That was her final verdict, and you whined over it.

"What's trash?" Satoru's curious ass and white hair popped through the window out of nowhere. You haven't seen him recently. He had a lot of curses to take down. Basically, the higher-ups needed him distracted and focused on something else. Their intentions were clear as water.

You motioned him to get closer, handing your phone with the song playing. He listened to it with a thoughtful expression, long fingers holding his chin up as if he was extremely focused on it.

"It's fire." He finally said, moving his head along with the song. You nudged Shoko, triumphantly saying: 'See? seeee??'

"Whatever, if you take his judgement as valid... That's on you." She shrugged, lighting a cig inside the classroom and taking a drag, blowing it to your face with a smile, you half-chuckled half-coughed at her action.

"Yeah, sure... addict." You muttered the last word, making Satoru snicker even though he was still listening to the song.

"Who is it?" He asked, his voice louder, as if he wasn't the only one with the phone speaker on his ear.

"Soulja boy." He let out a loud 'huh?' playing deaf, but you knew damn well he did in fact hear you.

You took your phone back from his hands and almost shouted on his ear:

"Soulja boy!" He pushed you off fastly, caressing his now pink ear with an upset scowl.

"What was that for?!" He complained, looking at his fingers with big eyes. "You spit on me!" His hands cleaned on his pants.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour.

"It's just a little bit of saliva." You shrugged it off and he let out a low 'eww', tuggling your shit and using it as a towel. Dragging you closer when you tried to push him off.

"Quit squirming, this is your fault." He used a deeper tone, trying to sound devilish, but it just made you laugh while your poor shirt was getting wrinkled between the struggle. Satoru couldn't hold it and laughed too, a little bit too hysterically for your taste.

It was near the end of the second term when Satoru's birthday came, as the winter.

You and Shoko decided to give him a present, he was enduring his birthday without his best friend after all.

You showed up in 'surprise', but he was waiting on the front of his house, as if he alredy expected you two.

It was your first time there, and apparently Shoko's first time too.

"Happy birthday!" You and Shoko spoke in unison, handing him some silly gifts a couple of teenage girls could afford.

Satoru smiled and accepted them.

"Cards, hm?" He asked, looking at your gift, tracing the design of the little box with his fingers. It was a deep black small box with light blue decorations. But the cards inside were of a shiny white with navy blue numbers and symbols.

"Wanna play?" You offered, looking at him and then at Shoko, but she sighed a bit, shaking her head.

"I wish, but I still have some work to do, have fun though, see you all on monday." She waved off, patting Satoru and you on your shoulders.

"She's fast when it comes to leave." You chuckled, looking up at him again. "So?" He opened his door wider in response, moving a bit aside to let you in.

The place felt even more huge inside. He was too rich to bare and to not be jealous.

"Close your mouth, you're drooling on my floor." He teased you, but you didn't mind, and you didn't answer back, just looking around his place. "Seriously, what's up with you?" He kept teasing, getting slightly annoyed by your lack of response, nudging you and failing again. "Remember?... I'm the birthday boy!" You snapped your head and smiled, making him blink in awe.

"Happy birthday!" He huffed amused.

"Thanks." ...

But poker with only two players was pretty boring. But it was the only game Satoru knew.

"You're not that good at being perfect, huh?" You teased as he kept mixing the cards, looking at you with his white eyebrows raising.

"What do you mean?" You shrugged, playing with your glass.

"You know just only one card game? really?" He throw a card to your hair, getting stuck in your strands.

"And?" He stubbornly asked, taking his time with the cards. "It's boring to be good at everything." You sarcastically snorted at that.

"Suree." Rolling his eyes, he gave you the deck.

"Teach me then." He crossed his arms, leaning back on literal air.

"Alright." You put the cards upside down on the table. "Let's play Blackjack... You only have to reach twenty-one, the person who's most close without getting over - wins." You started explaining. "The ace is worth eleven. The king, queen, and jack, ten." You took one of the cards. It was a queen. "You can stop whenever you want. If you go over the amount, you lose." He nodded at your explanation.

"It's too easy to be fun." He said, tilting his face, arms still crossed while he looked down at you with squinting eyes.

"Just play, smartass." He didn't move, a little smirk increasing. You squeezed his nose playfully, copying his smile, making him grimace just a little. "If you wanna play solitaire all by yourself, it's on you... But that sounds pretty depressing for a birthday, doesn't it?" You mockingly pouted, and he huffed, biting his lower lips as he repressed a smile, leaning and grabbing a card to play.

You stopped with two cards, then Satoru did the same.

"An ace and a king." He showed his twenty one, and you groaned, earning a bigger smirk from him.

"You mixed the cards wrong." You complained, making him chuckle at your words.

"... At least be a good loser."

The last period of school. The days were less cool, making it feel like the spring came earlier.

Shoko was barely present. Apparently, being a Jujutsu nurse had its things, for example: working your ass 24/7 like your life depended on it. They called it practice, and she called it illegal unpaid work.

The only good thing to add to the list was that the higher ups 'trusted' Satoru enough to not overwork him with a stupidly high amount of curses to get rid of... Months of using him like some sort of war weapon just to finally say: 'Ah yeah, this boy ain't betraying our ass too.'

But that was actually good. You weren't the only student in class now.

"I swear I own you a big one, Satoru." You told him sincerely, while both of you were training in the camp.

"Pff, why?" He asked humored, his voice showing his curiosity.

"Thanks to you I'm not dying of boredom." Sighing in relief you kept training... Well, if playing basket counted as training in sorcerer terms.

"You're welcome." He clicked his tongue as he dunked the ball with a grin on his face.

"Don't you sometimes wish to go to a normal school? to be a normal boy?" You asked out of nowhere, making him stop on his tracks and look at you as if you said the craziest thing in the world.

"Are you crazy? why would I want to be a weak-ass nobody?" You rolled your eyes at his words.

"Well, what if we were on a world where curses and sorcerers didn't exist?" He shrugged, getting again on the little game you two have been on from about an hour.

"You're not planing on changing schools again at this time, are you? our graduation is around the corner." He asked with narrowed judgement eyes. The corner of his lips going down as if he disliked the idea. You just shook your face as an answer. "... Then you're asking dumb questions, there's no meaning on asking something that will never happen." He stubbornly said. Sighing at his behaviour, you said:

"Fine brat, have it your way." With his chin raised and looking down at you from over his shoulder, he said:

"Like always." Maybe your last days of school are going to be actual hell.

"Mann... I hate sassy men." You muttered enough for him to listen, earning a basketball ball hitting lightly the back of your head.

There was one day when Satoru came to school with the shittiest mood you ever saw on him.

Like the mood swings he used to have when Geto left... You wondered if that was what troubled him, if he saw Suguru again.

You couldn't ask him though, how could you? knowing him, he will just brush it off, or even laugh it off if he has enough strength.

If you actually thought he was getting more fun to be around, the next days ruined all progress he ever had.

"Just do it Gojo, I don't wanna be in school too." You complained. After getting his back in some dumb battering with Yaga for the forth time this week, you two got 'grounded', as if you weren't already adults, staying in the classroom until you finished your homework.

"I don't want to." He nonchalantly said, his face was glued to his desk, looking at his phone with bored eyes.

" 'I din't wint ti.' " You mocked him. "Did I ask if you wanted to? I told you to do it." He left his phone down as he raised his head to glare at you.

"And who the hell do you think you are to go all bossy on me?" You glared back at him, getting up of your sit.

"Oh, I don't know... who am I but the bitch who deals with your shitty attitude every single day? I can bet all my inheritance that I'm the only one who's got your back even though you've been nothing but a dickhead with everyone." He got up from his chair too, you have never ever saw that upset face he was making. Eyebrows furrowing deeply and jaw clenching.

"Did I ever ask you to do that, smartass? it's fucking on you." You approached him, chests pressing against each other as you stared up at him.

"Fucking say that again." He leaned towards you, his hot breath brushing your face, he had that annoying smile on his face, the one you disliked so much.

"Are you deaf?" He asked mockingly, bitter voice that it was more of a whisper, but he was so close that you heard him loud and clear. "It's. Fucking On. You. I never asked you to be by my side, I don't need anyone, and that includes you." His words hurt, his attitude hurt, even his expression towards you hurt. But that feeling was little compared to your anger towards him.

"You're on your own now, don't ever talk to me ever again." Your hands pushed his chest to leave the classroom in storm with long fast steps.

Gojo stood there in the middle of the classroom, staring at the door you just passed through.

"... I've always been on my own." He whispered, the words that he couldn't tell you due to your soon leaving. But they weren't entirely true, and he knew it.

It's been a month, and Gojo took your words literally and even further.

He didn't show up in school since your short-tempered discussion... Of course, nothing will come out well if you put two explosive teenagers full of hormones and stubborness in the same room.

You practically begged Shoko to come back again. You felt like a crazy ex stalking and sending her messages like a creep.

But you were the only one in your class... And who else was there to talk to in school? Nanami? just the thought of it was hilarious. If he ghosted you on facebook, what could you expect in real life? he didn't like people to get on his nerves, and you had a talent on doing so.

"No, I'm not going. Stop calling me." Shoko sounded tired and annoyed. In just months, her voice changed a lot. It was more raspy than it used to be. Certainly due to smoking.

"Pleasee, I need you... I miss you. I'm gonna die here alone and it will be your fault." You whined exaggeratedly.

"Stop saying dumb shit, go and study. Or I don't know... find a job." She hanged up and you threw your head on your desk, smacking your forehead, letting out a little 'ow.'

And as if your day wasn't bad enough, Gojo apparently decided that it was finally the day to get back to school, stepping inside the classroom out of nowhere.

He was leaning on the door frame, overhearing your call, staring at you with a thoughtful expression with his eyebrows clenched. White teeth biting his lower lip.

After looking him up and down, you turned around, ignoring his presence.

He let out a long sigh, getting inside the classroom and sitting on his usual desk, ignoring you too.

Why was he there? You doubted it was because of his clan or the higher ups. Maybe Yaga's doing? it made more sense. That man was really nosy when he wanted.

You felt his eyes from time to time, side eyeing you, and it burned the back of your head. Your hand itched to grab a chair and throw it to his face.

"The fuck are you looking at?" You aggressively asked, looking back at him and connecting eyes.

He didn't answer and just kept staring at you.

"Cat got your tongue? pussy." You turned around again, looking at your phone.

He shifted on his seat.

"You have memory problems or what? can't recall your own words?" He hastily said, your eyes twitched by his words.

"Who's got your tongue now?" Your blood boiled at his condescending tone.

"Eat shit you Gollum looking ass bitch." You finally snapped, getting up and confronting him, he did the same, just like last time.

"The fuck did you just call me? then who are you? fucking Dopey - short and stupid." You gasped at his words, when you truly wanted to laugh, it was funny.

"Yeah, keep shitting our friendship genius, that's the only thing you're good at." He scoffed at your words, arms crossed on his chest.

"I'm literally Gojo Satoru, you dumbass, did you also forgot who are you talking to?" You frowned up at him, his shit eating grin only encouraging you to keep going.

"I give a fuck about who the hell you are, it doesn't change the fact that you're dickhead." You raised your voice, he scowled as leaned more towards you.

"Stop screaming on my face, you're spitting!" He yelled back, a few drops of his spit going to your face, making you frown deeper.

"Yeah, well, you should have thought about it before screwing me over!" You got even closer to him, noses almost touching. He leaned in, too, challenging. "You love fucking everything up, huh? you're right, you're good at everything, especially at that. I could say that lately you even mastered it, Gojo." His eyes squinted, long white eyelashes fluttering, and if you didn't know him well, you couldn't say he was hurt. But you knew him. "At least kiss me, could you? I like to get kissed when I get fucked." You practically spate all the best insults you had... Did this count as outsmart him? he literally couldn't say anything, just staring down deeply at you, with his lips slightly parted, eyes that you couldn't describe what was the primary feeling.

He opened and closed his mouth, but even if he was about to say anything, a sudden cough interrupted both of you.

"... Do I really have to remind to both of you that this is an institution?" Yaga's sternly voice sounded loud and clear. It took you and Gojo long seconds to finally sit down when he pointed the chairs. And it took Yaga past an hour of a lecture about your not-so-little verbal discussion.

This time, being grounded was on you.

...

[sexifart]

[scarnemo]

we’ll always be friends forever, won’t we?

[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part two [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 6k+

PART TWO

You lit your cigarette before the back door even fully shut. You leaned against the wall as you inhaled, and exhaled slowly when you could feel the smoke in your lungs expand. It was a nasty habit, you knew, but it was the only time where you got an ounce of peace at the diner. Two minutes to yourself, not in the cold walk-in, but outside where no one could yell for you, or grab at you, or need you. When you were out here, the chefs and staff alike knew not to bother you. It was just for you. 

Carmen knew that rule well, but that didn’t stop him from following you out the door. He burst through the back door like he was an employee under the diner roof, and found you immediately. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, not wanting anything to start today. 

You inhaled again, and let out the smoke quickly. “You know you’re not allowed back here–”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he boomed. Sydney’s words from before had completely dissipated in his mind.

You turned back to him, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked. “With me? Are you fucking joking?”

“What, it’s been five years and not even a fucking hello or a how you doing?–”

“Oh, sorry, Carm,” you said sarcastically. You stepped towards him in anger. “I was under the impression you never wanted to fucking see me again, huh? Isn’t that what you said last time at USC, or did I just make that shit up or something?”

Carmen shut his mouth. You both breathed heavily as the silence descended over you, only broken up by him pulling a pack of cigs from his pocket and plucking a stick from the foil. He slotted the cigarette between his lips, and lit it without a word. As he inhaled, he leaned against the wall next to you. You smoked together, not making a sound, as smoke coiled around your heads and disappeared into the air without a trace. 

You flicked ash on the floor. “What are you doing here, Carm?” you asked. 

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Getting ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” you asked, and glanced at the side of his face for just a second. He still looked the same, just a bit older. He had more tattoos on his arms, and a stronger jaw, but he was definitely the same Carmen you’d known once. 

“A restaurant. In Chicago.” 

You finally met his eyes, awestruck. He looked down at you to his left, and all the years came flooding back. Behind your eyes, behind the pain and the shit he’d said last time, was someone who still cared about his endeavours. It was almost too much to bear. 

“You found a place?” you asked. 

Carmen nodded. “The Beef. My brother’s old place,” he said, and scratched his head almost painfully. “He, uh… died, and left it to me. We’re doing it up.”

“We?”

“Me and Syd,” he said, and pointed back at the door. Sydney was still inside, at the table alone. “And, uh, Nat and Richie.”

You exhaled a shaking breath, smoke free. Your fingers started to buzz. You were torn between wanting to congratulate him, and wanting to walk away. This was immense for him, and something you knew he’d been wanting from the very beginning. He’d done it, was doing it, but despite all the time you couldn’t help but think– 

Weren’t we supposed to do this together? 

It didn’t matter now. It had been too long and you’d missed each other, passed by, lost the opportunity. Even so, after all this time, would you even want to go back?

You swallowed away all the words that wanted to pour from your mouth. “Wow,” you said, and it sounded stale. “That’s… that’s big.”

“Yeah,” Carm said.

“When do you open?” you asked. You tried to keep things light. 

“Couple of months. We need to open fast. Faster than we wanted to, so, yeah. It’s a lot.” 

As his words fizzled away, you looked at the ground. The air between you felt thick, heavy, with all of the words that you both wanted to say to the other, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could have been. Maybe, if what happened at USC hadn’t happened, things would have been different. You’d still be friends, have any semblance of a relationship, compared to being almost strangers. 

In fact, you’d pick being strangers with Carm over this. Inside, you still harboured the hurt from those years previous. He’d been so horrible. He’d been so cruel. You wondered if he still remembered all he’d said, or if he had no memory of the way he’d cut you to your core. 

It’d been too long. It didn’t matter. Nothing would change from this. 

“Well.” You sucked in a final pull from your cig, before you flicked it on the ground. You looked him in the eyes as you stood up straight. “Good luck with it all,” you said, before you started towards the door. 

Carm shot up from the wall. “You should come to the opening, in July.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grabbed the door handle, and Carmen tensed immediately. 

“We’re looking for a front of house manager,” he blurted out. You froze. All the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you clamped your eyes shut. “I don’t know– if you wanted a change, or something new.”

Your fingers hurt from how hard you held onto the door handle. Your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Carm realised his mistake as soon as you spoke. “Fuck– I just–”

“No, Carm. Think about it. You think that you can come back here after five fucking years, and offer me this like it’s nothing?” You were seething, you were upset. It only cemented that he didn’t realise how bad he’d hurt you, and if he did, then that was even worse. 

He looked around the back of the building, anywhere but at you, trying to find the right words. “I was shitty, I get that.”

“Do you?” You stepped forward once. “Tell me how shitty you were, Carmen.”

“I was– fuck– I shouldn’t have–” he stumbled over his words. 

“You shouldn’t have treated someone– who only fucking cared about you– like that, is that what you were gonna say?” you said over him, and the look on his face told you everything. You knew Carmen well, and you thought that was why he struggled. You could see right through him, especially back then. “You have a habit of pushing away people that give a shit about you.”

He frowned at you in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“I hope you grow out of it one day, and realise your worth,” you said, and felt the familiar sting of tears welling in your eyes. 

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking do,” he said, finding his voice. He took a strong step forward, taking you by surprise. “Come and work at the restaurant. You need to give yourself a fucking chance too, not just other people.”

You scoffed at his change of character. “You’re really flipping it this way?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said plainly. “You’ve been here, what, seven years? You know you’re qualified to work in places ten times the level of the diner–”

“God– fuck you!” you burst, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed and your chest stuttered. “You can’t just come back here after all this time and tell me that you give a shit, that you’re living your dream and you finally want me to be a fucking part of it–”

Carmen cut over you. “So only you’re allowed to say I need to know my fucking worth, huh? I can’t say it back to you?”

“I know my worth!” you exclaimed. Carmen sucked in a breath and shut his mouth after, holding his breath. “I’ve known my worth all along, and sure, maybe I’m too good for this fucking place, but it’s my home.” Carmen’s face softened as the words tipped from your mouth. “What worth would I have if I went back to someone who treated me like shit?”

Carmen placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. His shoulders were tense as he hung his head in subtle shame. You knew Carmen. You knew he wasn’t like this, not always, which is what made it even harder to say no. 

“This was our dream,” he said gently. 

“It was your dream, Carm,” you said. He caught your eye strongly.

“You were always part of it.” The breath hitched in your throat. “It was always gonna be you and me–”

“Until it wasn’t,” you said over him. There was a finality to your words that Carmen understood wholeheartedly. He’d been too late, left it too long, for you to drop everything and come back now. 

He inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, surely. “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting your eye. “For all of it. The way I acted. Cutting you all out of my life. I’m trying… not to do that anymore.”

You nodded gently, softening your expression. “I’m happy for you,” you said, and you meant it. “I just can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Carmen said. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to get it all to stick.  

You placed your hand on the door handle, and tugged it open. “It was good to see you,” you said. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it had been nice to see his face after all these years. You just didn’t know yet. 

Carmen nodded. “You too,” he said. You shut the door behind you as you went inside, leaving him out the back with his half smoked cigarette. 

Sydney was amongst the last customers in the restaurant after lunch, and you sighed as you saw her alone. You strolled towards her table, and started picking up empty plates when you approached. “Nice meal?” you asked. 

“Amazing,” Sydney perked up awkwardly. “You were right. Those tangerines are good.”

You smiled. “They’re my favourite, too,” you revealed. 

Sydney rang her hands on the table. “Um, where’s Carmen?”

You kept your face flat, not wanting to show just how erratically your heart was beating after the entire ordeal. “Having a smoke, out the back. You can head out that way, I’ll clear this all up,” you suggested. 

Sydney got up and nodded. “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you,” she said. When you looked at her face, you could tell she was being genuine. “Carmen knows a lot of people in this industry, and most of the places and people aren’t like this, or, uh– like you. It’s a refreshing change.” She smiled. 

You felt bashful at her words, but ignored the warmth that spread to your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that Carmen had found himself a great partner. You just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it all up for her sake. 

Sydney quickly shuffled in her bag, and brought out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, before you shook your head. “On the house. How do they say it? No checks.” 

“Oh, no, I insist–”

“So do I. Didn’t you hear Paulie?” you said, stacking a final plate on your arm, as you balanced the rest with ease. “I’m the big boss around here.” 

Sydney smiled marvellously. Her eyes shone when she did. “Okay, okay,” she said, backing off. “Whatever the big boss says, goes, right?”

“Too right,” you said, as you stood up straight and looked at her face-on. “I… I hope everything with the restaurant goes great.”

Sydney nodded, understanding that Carmen must have told you about it outside. “Yeah, me too. You should come by.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so you simply nodded. You stepped back and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Good luck, Sydney. You’re gonna need it with him,” you said, gesturing towards the back door. Carmen. 

Sydney scoffed, amused. The way her face dropped softly, and her eyes widened gently, made you feel properly seen. Like you were sharing words through looks alone, and absolutely knew what position the other was in, or had been in. “Uh, if you’re ever in Chicago– don’t be a stranger,” she added awkwardly, but you found it incredibly endearing.

You smiled, before you continued to the kitchen. As you did, you hoped it wouldn’t be like what happened to you, for her. 

It was always like this with Carmen. He somehow always found himself next to people like you and Sydney, strong-willed, capable, caring, but almost always fucked it up in some capacity. He’d done it before with you, and others, and neither you–nor Sydney– wanted it to happen again. Not when their restaurant would be on the line.

You dropped off the plates at the sink, and found yourself looking around the empty kitchen. The chefs were out the back, taking their after-lunch break. Sydney had already left through the door at the back of the restaurant, so they’d no doubt all bump into each other before Carmen fully left. 

Gently, you opened the walk-in and pulled the door closed behind you. You ducked down to the lower shelves, at the back, until you found what you were looking for– tangerines. There was a crate of them, some of them fresher than others, but you liked the ones that were almost over-ripe. You grabbed a couple and held them in your hands, before you headed back to the kitchen. 

Grabbing Paulie’s knife, you sliced them into quarters. The insides were the most neon of oranges. Unlike the peels on big oranges, tangerine peels were thinner. You liked it when the colour of the juice was so vibrant that it got stuck behind your eyelids for a moment. You liked it when you picked up a quarter and it almost fell apart. 

You were reminded of a memory then, of the last time you’d seen Carmen before today. Five years ago, when your reservation at Union Square Cafe had finally arrived, Carmen was in the kitchen just like you’d known he would be. 

You arrived on time, dressed in something fancy and upper-class, just to fit in. It’d been ten months since you’d seen him, since he’d left Lucky Strike Diner, and he’d been far too busy to come by. You didn’t blame him. He was finally doing what he’d meant to, and, just as before, you’d been absolutely right– within five months at USC, Carmen Berzatto won the James Beard award. 

You weren’t at the restaurant to tell him I told you so, but you couldn’t deny that you felt powerful about it. You knew Carmen better than he knew himself. But maybe that was more of a curse, than a blessing. 

The hostess sat you down at your table for one, as the restaurant emitted a gentle lull of mutters and chatter. You’d booked a later reservation, nearer to the end of dinner service, and everything was serene as you perused the menu and chose a wine. A few moments later, a waitress brought over your glass, and you sipped at it gently.

This was nice. You could get used to this. Fine dining, putting on a show of excellence. This was so far removed from the world of the diner that you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant, someone important. Not that you didn’t feel loved or supported at Lucky Strike, but you knew that standards in a place like Union Square Cafe were above and beyond. That’s how they got their stars, and kept them. 

In the kitchen, Carmen worked on an order. He positioned micro basil and other delicate ingredients on the plates, working with immense precision alongside the rest of the kitchen. When he was done, he let out a strong “Hands!” and within moments all the plates had been picked up and whisked from the kitchen. 

He made his way to the expo, banked a few more tickets, before his eye caught something. He stopped– froze, almost– as his gaze fell over your name on the reservations list. 

“Chef,” he said, turning to his front of house manager, who was responsible for calling out orders, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. “This booking, table thirty two– has she ordered yet?” 

“No, Chef. She was still looking the last time a server went to her table.”

Carmen had a thought, and he was going to put it into motion. “Take her menu away. I’ll be cooking for her tonight. Chef’s pick.”

“Yes, Chef,” the manager said, before she quickly fled the kitchen. 

Carmen took in a breath. “I need two veal, four salmon and one beef!”

“Yes, Chef!” the crew boomed in unison. 

You thought you’d decided. The salmon looked appealing, and as soon as you’d picked it was as if a server came over from being summoned. You turned to her, and smiled. “I’m ready to order,” you said. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” she said softly, as she gently plucked the menu from your hands. “Chef Berzatto is taking care of it for you.”

Chef Berzatto. 

Hearing Carmy’s name in such a way had you downright giddy. You wondered how he’d known, or if he’d been told, or whatever. You knew that top restaurants had a habit of being attentive to the max, so maybe they’d background checked you. Either way, you were excited. 

“Looking forward to it,” you said, accepting the fate of your meal as being in Carmen’s hands. You simply sat back, swilled your wine, and felt at peace. 

As you waited, you peered around the restaurant. Everything was laid out perfectly, had a system that worked, and every couple and group and business party looked catered for. It was an utterly different vibe than the diner. This was a place for another species, not like the locals you knew by name. You’d always assumed that intense and fanciful restaurants like this lacked character, in a way. They chose excellence over warmth, or stars over honest food, but you’d been wrong. 

Already, despite being on your own, you felt like you belonged. Carmen knew you were here, his servers knew you were here, and you knew why you were here. For him. 

A few parties finished up as you waited for your meal. All the while, you were generously topped up on wine from the servers, and positioned right by the kitchen. You could hear the methodical way they spoke to each other, sometimes, and the whoosh of the door every time someone stepped from within back into the restaurant, and vice versa. 

In the kitchen, Carmen finished up preparing your dish. He’d been transported away as he worked, reminded of you with every garnish that he placed and ru that he drizzled. Whenever he saw the colour orange, he thought of you. It was impossible not to, when he’d cut up an uncountable number of tangerines for you during his time at the diner. As he placed the final piece of your dish, he readied himself to yell for hands, but stopped himself.

Instead, he grabbed your plate and approached his front of house manager. “How are we for time?”

“Fine, Chef. We’re in the after dinner lull, only desserts are left. Table thirty-two is the final main of the evening.”

Carmen nodded. “Right.”

“Do you want to take it to her?” she asked knowingly, and Carmen swallowed. “You know her, don’t you? An old friend?”

“Something like that,” he said, not knowing how to even begin to explain you. An ex-work colleague just sounded wrong, but an old friend sounded wrong, too. You’d been so much more than either of those, and still were. You supported his endeavours, and cared beyond belief. 

The kitchen at USC was vastly different from the atmosphere at Lucky Strike. It was robotic, and static, and everyone had their purpose and place. Carmen’s purpose was that of importance, being chef de cuisine, but his superior– the head chef– was not like Paulie used to be. 

Not in the slightest. 

“I’ll take it,” Carmen finally replied. He placed your plate down and straightened out his chef whites. “How do I look?” he asked her. 

She smiled. “Smart,” she said. That was enough. 

As you sipped the last of your glass of red, you tensed when the door to the kitchen burst open. You turned your gaze towards it, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Walking towards you with the speed of a freight train, chef whites donned and clean, hair slicked back, was Carmy. He powered through the restaurant and gained glances of respect from other guests, triggering a small hubbub of chatter from other tables. 

You relaxed even further into your chair, knowing that you didn’t need to perform. You didn’t need to sit up straight, or lean in, or do anything other than smile at him with as much warmth as you could possibly muster. He’d made it, and this was exactly what you’d wanted to witness– you just hadn’t expected him to leave the seclusion of the kitchen just for you. 

Carmen reached your table, and set down your surprise meal. He gently drifted the plate towards you, and leaned down intimately. 

“Your meal this evening is our classic fillet of salmon, with a twist,” he said. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You felt overwhelmed in the best way. 

“A twist, Chef?” you asked. 

“I took the liberty of adding fresh tangerine juice to the jus.” 

Your eyes sparkled as he revealed all. It was very easy to feel special when you were alone with Carm at the diner before, to understand the gravity of his actions when he got past his shyness and opened up more, but this hit it out of the park. Your chest compressed as your heart lurched. Your lungs spluttered as you sucked in a shaking breath. 

The sides of Carmen’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, but you knew that look from a mile away. That small smile, that warmth, that affection, that he reserved solely for those people that he knew deserved it. That fact you were here, and everything else from before, was reason enough for you to deserve it. Innately, he felt good when he looked at you this way. It made everything clear, wiped the slate clean, made his crumbling chest settle just that tiny bit more. 

Carmen stood up straight, hands behind his back. “I wanted to mention that there’ll be no checks tonight.”

You finally sat up straight, and immediately went to protest. “I–”

“We insist. I insist,” Carm cut you off softly. 

You looked at the perfectly cooked salmon on the table, the bright orange jus, the drops of red wine on the sides of your glass. “Okay,” you said, peering back up at him. 

“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile grew. 

The cogs whirred in his brain, as he became hyper-aware of the other guests around him. He still had dessert orders to fill, and an entire kitchen to break down and clean. As much as he wanted to stay, to sit opposite you, to throw a kitchen towel at your face when you looked at him so deeply and warmly and lovingly, he simply couldn’t. 

He leaned in once more, so much that your hairs stood on edge as he whispered. “I finish just before midnight,” he whispered gently, before pulling away. “Stay.” He swallowed. “Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stayed until the restaurant was empty. The hostess at the front folded napkins in the dim light of the deserted bar, but stopped ever so often to fill up your wine glass. She smiled at you every time she did. 

It was a comfortable silence in the empty restaurant, a silence that you knew very well from being at the diner after hours. Inside the kitchen, you knew Carm would be breaking down after service. Cleaning every single surface in sight, scrubbing the floors until they shined, labelling produce with tape that was cut; not ripped. 

Close to midnight, the kitchen door slammed open once more. Carm had stripped off his chef whites, opting for jeans and an old tee. He spotted you from across the restaurant and smiled smally. “Wanna see?” he asked. 

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the kitchen. The sleekness of it all practically took your breath away. Every surface shone, every plate and bowl and mug glimmered. This was such a step up from the diner, one that you’d been expecting, but seeing it in person was far more incredible.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath. 

Carmen huffed in amusement. “I know.”

“This is… this is insane.” 

He nodded slowly, coming up to stand beside you as the door swayed on its hinges, before settling shut. “It feels like a dream, somedays,” he said, admiring the workspace with you. “And some days, it doesn’t.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Carm.” You smiled. He smiled back, and for just a moment it was as if no time had passed. It was like you were back in the diner, talking about your dreams together. A place to call your own, and all that jazz. Perhaps, those dreams were still there somewhere.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he replied, but not quite jokingly enough for your liking.

You sent him a side-eyed stare and caught the look on his face– fear, or perhaps, damage. When he hit your eyes a second later, that look melted away. All you saw then was warmth. Carmen didn’t often show much on his face, but you could see it all. The years you’d spent alongside him had taught you more than how to run a restaurant; you were one of a handful of people that could seamlessly read Carmen like a book. 

That’s why your gut coiled innately. That look wasn’t one that you’d take lightly. 

“How’s it all going?” you asked. 

He let out another huff and shrugged his shoulders, before opting to move away and roam the clean kitchen. “I can’t complain.” He swiped his hand across the stainless steel workbench. 

“And that chef, David or whatever his name is, how is he?”

Carmen froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your hairs stand on end. His arms tensed, until you saw the strength within his veins rise to the surface. He looked up at you sternly, clenching his jaw. “He’s an excellent chef.” 

“Okay,” you said. “That’s great. What about how he manages this place, manages you?”

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Carmen let out defensively.

It only cemented that you knew something was wrong. 

“Okay– I’ll pretend you didn’t just snap at me for being interested,” you let out belligerently. “What the hell is it, Carm?”

“Drop it,” he said sternly, moving away from you and over to the enormous shelves of shimmering white plates. “I got a James Beard award, didn’t I? I got everything I fucking wanted here, so just drop it.”

“Listen,” you started, fast walking your way around the central island and closer to him. “I get it, I’m not part of this world– your world– anymore. But I still know a thing or two about chefs and their giant fucking egos. What’s going on?”

Carmen closed his eyes and let out a subtly shaking breath. You were taken aback by this whole conversation, the drastic shift in his mood as soon you’d started asking questions. 

“Carm,” you said softly, dialling things down a little. “Just look at me for a second.” 

His shoulders relaxed, dipping into more of a tired hunch than his previous disposition of a deer in headlights. When his eyes hit yours, your heart lurched in your chest. Those eyes, god– the blue was etched in the corners of your brain. Like a clear sky in summer, or a glittering pool, or a calm ocean. Carmen was many things, but clear, glittering and calm were not traits that most people would pin onto him. 

Not you, though. This was the Carm that dreamt with you. This was the Carm that cut up tangerines into quarters for you whenever you asked, or even when you didn’t. Blue and orange, swirling together like the patterns on peppermint hard-candy or gingham squares on the Lucky Strike tablecloths. Ingrained. Permanent. 

“He’s taught me a lot,” Carmen whispered. 

You knew it wasn’t your place, but red flags popped up in your mind and billowed in the breeze immediately. He looked stripped back, a shell of himself, just for those fleeting seconds, and you fucking hated it. 

“You’ve been here for almost a year,” you said, swallowing away the butterflies that had started crawling up your throat. “Maybe now is a good shot to find something else.” 

Carm’s eyes widened brightly, and you saw all his plans from before; his restaurant, his staff, his food and the like. And then, as if a gust of wind uprooted the largest tree within his mind, that was gone. Replaced by something seething, something angry and not at all kind, Carmen rose. 

“You’re telling me to quit?” 

You took a small step back. “Of course, I’m not–”

“No, no, you fucking are.” He bit down on his tongue, you heard it. “You think being here for a few hours and one meal is enough for you to tell me what the fuck to do?”

“Carmen, what are you talking ab–”

“Fuck!” His shoulders squared off, and suddenly he was a corrugated iron board before you. Immovable, stuck in place. “You came here to tell me I’m strong enough, right? What, you want me to go back to the diner with Paulie and everyone else who’s never had a real fucking goal in their lives?”

“Wow,” you breathed out, laughing a little as a lack of what else to respond. 

You stood your ground, as much as you wanted to scream and yell like a petulant child. The look on his face, the brick wall he’d built so high around himself, was something you’d seen before– self-sabotage, tugging away from everything and everyone that was there to help. A level of acceptance and denial alike was testament alongside situations such as this; abusive situations. 

This Chef David was abusing the shit out of him. And Carmen was deep, way down to the core of it, just trying to get through his days, shift by shift, in any way possible. Even if that meant cutting off those dreams, cutting off people from his past– you. 

“You really think I’d do that?” you said bluntly. “You really think I booked this solo reservation a fucking year ago because I wanted to come and drag you back to the diner?”

Carm’s eyes brightened momentarily. “A year ago?”

You took another step back, careful not to immediately fall into him from the childish bewilderment on his face. It was like he’d never had someone care, but you knew that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know how to spot when someone did, misconstrued it as someone trying to harm him, hurt him, ruin him. 

“I booked to come here a year ago, Carmen,” you started. “I fucking knew you’d make it here. I knew that when I came today, you’d be the one cooking my damn meal. I was fucking right.”

It was his turn to take a step back now, just a little. Perhaps he was overwhelmed because he wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to still stay supporting him after he left, or didn’t even want to think about what the guys at the diner might be saying about him after he’d gone. Little did he know, everyone still talked about him with smiles and bright eyes. 

Carmen Berzatto was the only motherfucker out there that didn’t know people supported him wholeheartedly. 

“I’m not telling you to leave, or quit, or whatever else you fucking think I was about to say,” you began again. Carm swallowed nervously. “You can think what the hell you want to think about us at Lucky Strike, but we’re still the same people we’ve always been. I guess that can’t be said about you now, huh?”

Carmen’s anxiety turned to anger in a heartbeat. “What, ‘cause I actually made a name for myself instead of you all staying in the fucking box you planted yourselves in years ago? If that’s why I’ve changed, then I’m fucking glad about it.”

“Fuck– there you go again!” you exclaimed. “You’re talking down to us like we’re pieces of fucking shit on your brand-spanking new shoes!” 

“And you’re looking at me with those fucking baby-eyes like I’m gonna crumble any fucking second!” Carmen screamed. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

You placed your hands on your hips and held your ground again. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” 

Carmen saw red immediately. “If you bring up Chef David one more fucking time, then I’m done.”

“You’re done? Huh, what the hell does that mean?”

“Done with you.” 

Your eyes widened. Bile started to crawl up your oesophagus. In that moment, you’d never felt more like your mother. You knew if you were to talk, you’d adopt her stern accent instantly. You popped your hip out and bent your knee, tired of fucking standing. 

“So, you made it to the big leagues, and now you’re throwing out all your trash. Is that what it is, huh?” You stepped forward once. Carmen stayed where he was. “Look at me right here, Carm.” You pointed to your eyes, not wavering once. “Look at me right here and tell me that you hate me. Do it right now. If you do it right now then I’ll know you fucking mean it. If you do it right now then me, and Paulie, and everyone from the fucking diner will call it quits with you like that.” You snapped your fingers on that. It cemented that you meant it. 

Carmen raised his chin, so close that your noses almost touched. In any other circumstance, maybe you’d have kissed him by now. Maybe you’d have realised that you both liked each other as more, loved each other once, still fucking did. 

But, that wasn’t this reality. 

When he didn’t say anything, you knew you’d won. He stayed as still as he could as adrenaline rushed through his blood. His fingers shook at the end of his arms. His chest thumped incessantly as oxygen tried to tear through his lungs. 

“No?” you asked, almost as a final warning. 

Carm breathed in. “I hate what you represent.”

“And what exactly is it that I represent?” you whispered. 

Suddenly, Carmen dropped his forehead on yours. His hands deposited themselves on either side of your neck warmly, gently. His fingertips set your skin alight. “The one thing I can never fucking have.” 

As much as you wanted tell him to get the fuck off, to stop touching you, your heart melted as soon as your skin felt his. You clamped your eyes shut, leaning into him. Carm let out a pent up breath. His breath was warm as it skimmed your skin. 

“Carmen.” You swallowed. “Please.” You paused. “I– love you,” you stuttered. 

“I know,” he replied. “I know you do.” 

For just a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. It’d be easy to drop his lips onto yours, you were right in front of him. Heads touching, breath mingling, sharing each other’s air like it was the most normal fucking thing to do. 

You wanted him back, it was true. But not like this. Not broken, or bruised, or damaged beyond repair. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. He’d been moulded this way. But, it was his responsibility to do good for himself. One deep dive into this entire conversation and you knew that it was impossible for him to do that, at least right now. Carmen Berzatto was stuck, and you didn’t want to get yourself stuck in the process of trying to free him. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Leave,” was all he said. 

You shook your head slowly, tears welling behind your eyes. “Don’t push me away.”

“Leave,” he repeated, as his hands dropped from your neck to your shoulders. Gently, he started physically pushing you off him. 

“Carmen,” you spluttered. Your eyes opened to see him in pain. God, you fucking hated it. “I won’t come back if you do this. I really fucking won’t.”

He stepped back once, twice, three times. Eyes glued on yours, blue and glassy like a glacier, his heart as cold as one, too. “Good,” he said softly, headed for the door to the kitchen.

“You don’t mean that.” You urged him to stay. 

He only nodded. “I never want to fucking see you again.” 

Carmen left unceremoniously, without another word or glance or care. The kitchen door swung shut, bobbing on its hinges. The only sound you could hear was the buzzing of the refrigerators, and the breaking of your heart strings. 

PART THREE

[kinda-super-hot]

I Want More. (1)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Harvey Specter x F!Lawyer!Reader - friends to enemies to lovers <3

Summary: This will be a series! Part 1: (Y/n) and Harvey were 'together' during their time at Harvard, but Harvey couldn't commit to an actual relationship. They 'break-up', or whatever you do to end a situationship, and split on bad terms. Years later, after they become successful lawyers, their paths collide once again when (Y/n) takes a job at Pearson Hardman.

Warnings: commitment issues, angst, arguing - I think that's it but if you noticed something I missed, please let me know.

Word Count: 1784

A/N: I haven't written in a WHILE. Please, please, please constructive criticism. Also, there's, like, no Harvey fanfics. I think I read literally all of them soooooo... that's why there's this thing. Anyways, lemme know if you're interested in part 2 (I already started writing lol).

Harvey and I didn’t used to be so distant. Once upon a time, while we were both attending Harvard, I was the person he went to practice flash cards to study for the bar. While I sat against my bed frame asking him questions off the cards, he’d lay on his stomach with his feet in the air. Seeing as we were both quick witted, we’d often get distracted and end with a battle of lighthearted jabs.

               And likewise, he was there for me when I had been stood up on a date with some frat boy. He ordered in some Chinese food and pulled a big tub of ice-cream out of my freezer. We sat on my goodwill couch picking apart the guy and making up some dumb unfathomable story as to why he hadn’t texted.

               “I can’t wait to hear the headline in the morning: Duke, whatever the hell his last name was, found having been thrown from his car in a head on collision right into a semi-truck loaded with rubber ducks.” He did a news reporter voice that didn’t sound far off from how he normally talked. “Luckily, the ducks cushioned his fall, so he only suffered having lost his phone and missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime with the (Y/N) (L/N).” I repress my giggle but can’t stop the goofy smile on my face. “What a loss.”

               “I mean,” I spoon more ice-cream into my mouth, “Who would name their son Duke? You can tell they wanted a dog.” He nodded along to that and all the other ridiculous things we talked about that night.

               But some friendships don’t last forever. Especially, when you want more.

               We grew closer and had fleeting kisses often. Some borderline dates, but never anything serious. Never anything real. Not to him.

               “Harv.” I called his name from the couch after I heard the door to his apartment open and close. He walked through the door with a smile on his face. “How was your day?” I asked, but I already knew the answer just by looking at his face. He had a mock trial set that day and absolutely crushed it. He was assigned the husband’s attorney and was in charge of making sure that the wife got the minimum of what she was entitled to without having signed a prenup.

               After he boasted about his triumph, I applauded him. But he wasn’t finished running his big mouth. And his next, one little comment, threw our relationship through a loop. “One of the stupidest things a person can do is get married.” He smirked as he took of his jacket and started on his tie.

               I froze in my place on the couch. He continued getting comfortable and taking off his restricting clothes with his back facing me. My throat was tight, but I persevered, I had to make sure that I had heard him right. “You think marriage is stupid?”

               I eyed his back feeling distraught. Every fiber in my being hoped and pleaded that he was joking, but my gut knew better. Moreso, it knew Harvey better.

               “Marriage, in my eyes, is an irrational vulnerability. There’s no point other than, I don’t know, taxes?” He rambles on with his back still facing me. My heart clenches. “And even then, it’s not worth it. Divorce can ruin everything. A man, his family, hell, it can run an entire business into the ground.”

               My head was throbbing, and I couldn’t help the hot tears that brim my eyes. “Huh.” I acknowledge. My voice feels raw already from holding back letting out any noises. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

               My voice must have given me away because Harvey flicks his head over his shoulder to spare me a glance before double taking. His eyes widen and his body tenses. He turned his body to me and takes a step in my direction before stopping in his tracks. A tear falls down my cheek and I feel burning hot embarrassment in my chest.

               “Honey…” He gently grabs me by my biceps and looks into my eyes. “What’s wrong.” His voice is smooth as he caresses my cheek and pulls my face into his chest. I let out a choked cry and he rocks me back and forth for a few moments.

               I feel ridiculous. “Oh, it’s nothing.” I can tell I’m not being convincing when Harvey pulls my face from his chest and gives that knowing look before putting it right back where it belongs.

               I had no idea what to say. How do you tell your kind-of-but-not-really-boyfriend that you had already planned what the centerpieces at your wedding would look like? That this was it. This was everything you wanted. He was everything you wanted.

               “Even if it was me?” I blurted it out before I could really think about what I was saying. He looked confused for a second but then his face went stern.

               “Y/N.” All of a sudden, his delicate touch is a little heavier. “We’re not even-…” He cuts himself off and looks to the corner of the room. My mouth opened as I processed what he was too scared to say.    

               “You don’t want me.” My expression turned icy and I looked down. He let out a frustrated noise and pulled away from me. Though, I felt empty before he could even begin to move from my embrace.

               “That’s not it.” His brows were furrowed, and he wouldn’t look at me. That’s exactly it. I read his face and could feel he was holding something back. I was at a loss for words. I removed my body from the bed and let out an emotional scoff.

               I speedily walked into the bathroom, trying to make a plan. Any plan that won’t leave me anymore heartbroken than I already was.

Leave.

               It was my only option. I eyed the unused, small garbage bag next to the toilet and ripped it from its basket. “Y’know,” I suddenly felt his presence behind me. “I know you’re studying to be a lawyer and their whole schtick is lying and-” I started tossing my deodorant and face wash and every other thing I bought for his place into the bag. “-and withholding the truth.” I ranted in a demeaning voice. “But I didn’t think you would do that to me-”

               “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was raised and his hands were out to his side in an exasperated way. “I didn’t lie!” I didn’t stop tossing things in, in fact I’d finished my bathroom segment and moved on to his closet.

               “You’re right- you didn’t lie, you just kissed me, went on dates, and cuddled me! But, oh no, you’re right. We’re not anything.” I growled as I tossed my spare shirts and pants from his closet onto the bed before stuffing them in my already bulging, see-through bag.

               He didn’t yell, but he did have an icy tone when saying, “It’s not my fault if you convinced yourself there was something here when there wasn’t.” I stopped trying to make everything fit into the bag. The next few seconds were silent as I let his words sink in. My heart had to have gotten heavier because it felt like it was in my gut. Either that, or I was about to vomit.

               All I could think was ‘get out’. I couldn’t look at him, fuck, my heart hurts so bad. I tie off the bag and walked from his bedroom into the living room and finally, slam his front door. I couldn’t help but stop outside of it to try and listen for footsteps… but I heard none.

               So, I left. For the next few days, I spent my hours crying, sleeping, crying again and completely and utterly alone.

               I hardly saw Harvey again whilst I was at Harvard, thank God we were in different law classes. Of course, with an ego as big as his, it was impossible not to at least hear about him every once and a while. During graduation, I grimaced knowing that he was a few feet away with that million-dollar smile on his face. Never the matter, I put a smile on my face too and high-tailed it when the picture was over.

I moved back to the city I was born and raised, not too far from New York. I practiced as an associate for a while, but quickly climbed the ranks and made Junior Partner at the firm. I had mind blowing reviews and an amazing success rate that assured a job offer at whatever firm would have me. In fact, I worked so hard at my firm, that I reached the capacity of what they could pay me as a Junior Partner. I could either become Senior Partner or go somewhere else if I wanted to continue to grow my paycheck.

               And if I learned anything from Harvey Douchebag Specter, it’s that I should never settle. I set my eyes on the most successful firm in New York: Pearson Hardman. One over the phone interview and a quick glance at my numerous 5-star reviews, recommendations, and success rate-and I was welcomed to the Pearson Hardman family.

I rented an apartment not too far from the firm and began unpacking the few things I had. After paying off my student debt, I went on a spending spree, and I wound up with more than I could manage. After being knees deep in Dior, I had to offload some stuff. I packed everything I couldn’t part with and donated everything else to be distributed to a few women’s shelter. They couldn’t contain their excitement and now I’m a part of the state-wide organization. Funny enough how those things happen!

Either way, it was a fresh start, through and through. I had the bare necessities, and I was content. A shopping spree for some Ikea furniture was calling my name, though. The apartment was a literal husk up and would remain that way until I could find the time to go shopping.

Being in the city where I studied law and had some of the toughest years of my life made me emotional, but in the best way. Now I’m back, and at least 3 times as kick-ass as before.

Of course, since Harvard, I’d heard a comment or two about Harvey and what he’s been up to, but I tended to butt my head out, far away from his business. I’m sure he’s somewhere still in New York, I mean, he loved this city- but New York’s huge! There’s no way I’ll be seeing him anytime soon.

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Thanksgiving, idiots in love, and unwelcome encounters in the parking lot.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Content Warning! This chapter contains sexual harassment (grabbing at clothes, derogatory name calling).

Thank you so much @hellfire--cult for the adorable Converse divider🥹

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

Thanksgiving Day, 1983

Eddie had a lot of things to worry about today, but right now he was most worried about whether or not the mac & cheese he’d slaved over all morning would taste like shit. 

His sweaty hands clutched the dish towel-wrapped baking dish for dear life and mentally rolled through all of the ingredients he had read on that clipping from the Southern Living magazine he’d grabbed from the grocery store. It wasn’t as if he’d never cooked before- he could make a mean grilled cheese, and if something came in a box he hadn’t found a way to fuck it up yet. This time, however, he’d been a little out of his element. 

Wayne had been excited to finally have a use for the casserole dish that had been sitting in a cabinet unused for so long that Eddie hadn’t even known it existed. Currently, he sat relaxed in the drivers’ seat of his pickup smiling smug as hell even though Eddie had assured him multiple times that he was not about to meet Eddie’s girlfriend… just a friend. 

No matter how much Eddie tried to hammer that point into Wayne’s skull, however, he still smiled that stupid knowing grin every time your name came up in conversation, as if he knew something Eddie didn’t. 

“You seem nervous.” Wayne commented, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead as he lazily turned the truck into your neighborhood. 

Eddie glared at the tin foil topped dish in his lap. “Well, I’ve never made this recipe before, I keep picturing everyone taking a bite and immediately spitting it into their napkins.”

Wayne snorted, shaking his head softly and guiding the steering wheel with one hand. “Son, it’s pasta and cheese. Pretty hard to mess that up too bad.” 

“Yeah, well…” Eddie harrumphed. “I’m sure I found a way somehow.”

Wayne smiled softly at his nephew’s smitten nerves, parking the pickup with a jerky stop at the curb of your house. “505, right? This is the one?”

“Yeah.” 

Watching smugly as Eddie stared out the window at your house, Wayne waited about four seconds before he asked, “Are you gonna get out of the car today, or…?”

Cue the sound of the car door opening and Eddie grumbling a sassy muttered retort of I’m going old man, calm down, or something along those lines. Wayne pretended not to catch it. 

You opened the door before Wayne and Eddie could even get to the door, and when Eddie’s eyes landed on you? His uncle could just tell. The smile that exploded on his nephew’s face was all it took.

“Oh here, let me take that-”

“No, no, it’s fine Ace, I got it.” Eddie reassured you, swooping the casserole dish away from your eager hands. He nodded in Wayne’s direction, directing you to do the same as he introduced the only family member of his that you’d heard of at all in your time as friends. “This is my Uncle Wayne.” 

Your eyes shone, welcoming and warm, and Wayne understood in an instant how you’d had such an effect on Eddie in less than a year. Since he’d started spending time with you, Eddie Munson had become the kind of young man who did his homework without being asked. He’d even gotten a job at the mall of all places and gave a portion of his earnings to his uncle to help with living expenses. 

None of the things Wayne had always loved about Eddie had gone away- the changes he’d seen in his nephew were all additions to a personality that he’d always known would take him far in life if he could just surround himself with those who brought out the best in him. People who saw that spark of Munson Magic and knew how to fan it.

Wayne could now confirm that you were one of those people.

He took your hand in his weathered and wrinkled one, pouring his approval of you into a firm and fatherly handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady.” He gestured to Eddie with a conspiratorial nod. “Nice to put a face to the name, all he does is talk about you.”

“Brrrrr, it’s cold out here!” Eddie interrupted his uncle with a hand on your back to steer you away from Wayne and into the house. “Are you cold? You look cold, we don’t need to stand out here yapping when you’re cold.” 

You smiled, following Eddie’s lead but tossing a look over your shoulder at Wayne like it was a shared secret. 

Eddie had already met your parents, so greetings were warm and familiar once the three of you had reached the foyer. Wayne was introduced to both your mom and dad before your mom noticed Eddie had brought an offering for the table.

“Edward Munson, if I’m about to find out you’re not only a shoe designer but also a cook, I might just have to extend a standing invitation for all future holidays!”

“Shoe designer?” Wayne raised an eyebrow. 

You chuckled, pointing your foot out for him to see your white (now turned a bit duller from wearing them every day) Chuck Taylors, completely covered in idle drawings from Eddie’s inability to sit still. 

Wayne gawked at the artwork on your shoes; he’d always known that Eddie was talented, but this was the first time in a long time that Wayne had really stopped and looked at his nephew’s art. The detail, the use of space and composition- it was clear that Eddie knew not only how to draw, but he had an eye for how to make his art look like it belonged on its canvas. Even otherworldly monsters- sea creatures, dragons, demonic ghouls and ghostly images- looked at home on your well-loved high tops. 

“You drew all this, Ed?”

Eddie smiled shyly, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Ah, they’re just doodles. This one over here figured out I pay better attention in class when I’m doing something with my hands. Helps me listen better.” Finally, his trademark grin reappeared, shyness replaced with snark. “Now I’m the one helping her in class.”

“All the times I’ve had to kick you so you don’t fall asleep in O’Donnell’s beg to differ.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him. This brought a good-natured ripple of laughter from everyone in the room. You all felt it- the ease with which familiarity settled in the air amongst you. Eddie felt it most of all, since he wasn’t quite accustomed to the particular familial feel of it. 

He might have been, once. But it’s been a while. 

A second later and your mom had whisked Eddie into the kitchen to set his dish down on a trivet and sent him into the living room with a steaming cup of wassail in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other.

“There was enough food in there to feed an army,” Eddie said, bemused as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Does she know there are only five of us?” 

You toed off your shoes and let them fall to the ground before crossing your legs up on the green ottoman, fuzzied soft with wear from years of love. You leaned closer to Eddie, eyes fixed on his plate of goodies as you began to pick pieces of fruit and cheese for yourself. 

“Mom grew up with a big family,” you said, popping a juicy red grape into your mouth. “All the family recipes make enough for six at least. She could probably cut the recipes in half… but I think cooking all this food reminds her of home.” you smiled tenderly and shrugged. “We usually freeze the leftovers, but since you and your uncle are here I doubt we’ll even have to open a freezer bag. We’ll just send leftovers home with you!”

Eddie liked the sound of that. 

An hour or so passed before you all sat down to share your meal, and Eddie was amazed how quickly his nerves had dissipated in that time. The two of you sat cozied up on the couch, munching on fruit, cheese and deviled eggs. Your dad had offered Wayne a beer, and the two of them sat watching football in front of the TV until your mom gave the all-call for dinner. 

Everyone loaded up their plates, remarked on how good the food looked, thanked your mom for all of the hard work that went into today’s meal. This was quickly followed by a pointed thank you from your mother to Eddie for the “best mac ‘n cheese I’ve ever had” according to her. He was pretty sure she was just being nice, but he didn’t care. Her smile was still contagious- one of those ‘I love you no matter what’ mom smiles.

He’d forgotten about those.

He’d also forgotten what it was like to sit at a dining room table with more than three people. For a second, he’d been worried that you were all about to hold hands and pray, which wouldn’t have been ideal since all Eddie could remember about the dinner prayer was “bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts,” and he didn’t want to embarrass himself. 

But there wasn’t a prayer. This wasn’t a test he’d forgotten to study for, just a meal where Mom and Dad and Uncle were all happy he was here, happy each other were here. That was new. And when your dad asked Eddie how school was going, for once he had nothing but good things to report. He’d gotten a 95 on his last English test. For the first time since sophomore year, he wasn’t failing a single class. And when your dad said “Glad to hear you’re doing well, son.” Eddie felt you squeeze his thigh lightly, just above his knee. He saw Wayne smiling proudly out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie could get used to this. 

Conversation flowed easily in your family; no one felt the need to talk about the weather or ask arbitrary questions, and thankfully nobody decided that “we should go around the table and all say something we’re thankful for!”. There wasn’t a need for it. None of you needed to say it out loud to know you were all thankful for each other. For this. 

By the time dessert came around, Eddie started to think he might be dreaming. Apparently, you were the one always in charge of dessert in your household. And while he’d grown very acquainted with your chocolate chip cookies, he hadn’t been adequately prepared for your pecan pie. Or your chocolate & peanut butter sheet cake. Or the chocolate pudding/cool whip/cookie crumb whatever-it-was that you’d spooned onto his dessert plate. 

Could a person become delirious after consuming too much sugar? Eddie wasn’t sure if it was sugar that was causing him to start wondering what you’d look like making all these desserts in a kitchen that you both paid rent for, or if that was just him. It was probably the sugar.

As soon as Eddie was shoveling his last bite into his mouth, he was looking over to see if you had any left for him to mooch off of you. Your plate was empty- scraped clean, even- and then you were grabbing his empty plate and standing to take them into the kitchen. Eddie was about to pout when you looked at him knowingly and asked, “You want seconds? I’m getting seconds.”

It wasn’t the sugar. Eddie wanted to know what your signatures looked like together on a lease. And Eddie couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to finally admit to himself that he’d been nursing a crush on you since… when had it started? Eddie wasn’t sure. Somewhere between seventh grade history class and this very moment, he figured. 

He looked up at you from his seat, mouth still stuffed with pie crust and cool whip, and smiled when he noticed how pretty you looked in that sweater you were wearing. It was red- you wore red a lot, he realized. Had you always worn red this often?

You giggled, poking his cheek. “You look like a chipmunk when you smile like that.” 

His eyes followed you as you disappeared into the kitchen, and when Eddie caught a glimpse of the way Wayne was grinning at him? Well, his blush was a deeper shade of scarlet than your sweater.

The smile stayed, though. Even a punch to the jaw couldn’t knock that off Eddie’s face.

“I wanna take you out.” 

It had taken Eddie what felt like ages to finally ask you. You were both at school, and he had been thinking about it and thinking about it and ramping himself for weeks to just grow a pair and ask you. The question had sounded smoother in his head, but now he thought he sounded vaguely frightening- sharper and more desperate than he’d hoped.

You blanched, eyes wide and mouth open to a little “O” shape that made Eddie’s heart flutter. 

You were so cute. How had he ever ignored it?

You grinned a little, “Take me out like… assassination, take me out, or…?” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head, laughing nervously, “I mean like, out. To a place. Or multiple places, if you want.” He was jumpy, his hands switching from his pockets to the strap of his backpack, to his hair, to the fraying edges of the friendship bracelet you’d tied around his wrist in July. 

“So when you say take me out, you mean like… on a date?”

There it was. You’d said it, that word. Date. It was out in the open now. 

You’d put the ball in Eddie’s court, and he should be happy about it. This was how it was supposed to be, right? He needed to be a man, take control, take the lead. But unfortunately, it had taken the majority of his bravery just to initiate this conversation.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

Just like that, he passed the ball to you. Eddie cursed himself, waiting anxiously for your response, completely at your mercy.

You looked down at your shoes covered in his doodles, at the red plaid of your flannel that you wore because you’d bought it in hopes that if he started to associate you with his favorite color, he might like you more. Like you the way you liked him.

You couldn’t say the words either… couldn’t speak them into existence without fear of sounding too desperate, too eager. So instead, you nodded yes to your doodle covered shoes and smiled at the dragon he’d drawn on the left toe.

Eddie beamed- inwardly, of course. Couldn’t let you see exactly how happy he was that you felt the same as him- he needed to be calm, to be cool. Girls liked calm and cool.

 “Then it’s a date, Sweet Tart.” He ached to sling a triumphant arm over your shoulder, but shoved his sweating hands into his pockets instead. 

You snuck a glance at Eddie, your smile refusing to leave no matter how cool you were trying to appear. Be cool, don’t act too desperate, you chided yourself. 

“It’s a date.” you repeated, beaming up at him. “When were you thinking?”

“Well,” Eddie shrugged as you both came to a stop by your locker. “Finals are next week and then we’re off for Christmas break, so I should be able to pencil you in for next Saturday night.” He leaned against the adjacent lockers, a smug smile shining down on you. 

“Pencil me in, huh?” you giggled, replacing the notebooks and folders from your last class with your supplies for the next. “I’m flattered you could fit me into your busy schedule.”

“If there’s one thing my schedule always has room for, it’s you, Ace.” 

Swooning. That was the only word for what those words made you do. You weren’t sure if Eddie was aware of the effect he had on you, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to help it if he was. 

You were actually grateful for your final exams the following week- they gave you something to focus on other than your date with Eddie. Which meant that the moment you’d finished your last exam on Friday, that date was the only thing on your mind.

Your date with Eddie. The words alone were enough to make you smile to yourself. You’d been harboring this crush on him for the better part of this year, and now he asks you on a date? Was it possible that he had felt the same way all this time? 

“You sure you’re cool if I don’t stay for the whole session tonight?” you’d asked Eddie as he’d prepared for Hellfire that afternoon, triple-checking that he wasn’t upset. It had become a routine for the two of you- your weekly presence as the one and only audience member for Hellfire’s in-game escapades. 

“Cool as a cucumber, Ace.” Eddie had replied, “You took three exams today, for crying out loud. Go take a nap.” 

When you finally conceded, he’d walked you from the gameplay table to the door, even going so far as to hold it open for you. Then, to your surprise, he’d taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips. 

“Go rest up.” He’d muttered, low enough so only you could hear. Then he’d brushed his lips against the back of your fingers, and you’d just about melted on the spot. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8, Sweet Tart.”

Your hand still tingled as you thought about the feel of his lips on your skin. Now, you wanted that feeling everywhere. 

Your body was on autopilot as you made your way through the school parking lot; slushed, muddy snow sat piled up in corners and untouched patches at the edges of the lot from the on-again off-again winter precipitation over the December weeks. Your booted feet marched on toward your car, your mind entirely occupied by thoughts of tomorrow. 

You were so distracted by that thought that you didn’t notice who was waiting for you, leaned up against the trunk of your car.

“Hey there, firecracker.” 

You stopped short when your eyes snapped up to see Alan, along with a couple guys from the basketball team. Their faces were pure predatory malice as Alan eyed you up and down. 

You paused a moment, your heart rate picking up a notch when you realized just how empty the parking lot was, given the hour that had passed since the final bell. 

“I have to get home.” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the driver side door and making your best attempt to brush past the jock leaned up directly beside it, but to no avail. 

“Not so fast, you little freak.” Alan stepped into your path, a cruel smile creasing his freckled face. “We just wanted to chat!”

“You,” your voice betrayed every ounce of disbelief that you felt looking up at the meathead blocking your path to your own vehicle. “-want to chat. With me?”

“I know, I know, you’re flattered-”

“I’m not.” 

“Well you should be.” Alan peered down at you with frigid eyes. “Lord knows no guy will ever want to be seen with you now that the Freak’s got his claws in you.” 

You felt a surge of indignant fire seep into your gaze. “Piss off, asshole.” You attempted to shove past him, but Alan took a step toward you, throwing off your balance. You had to grab the bumper of the car beside you to keep from falling over, clutching at the books in your arms to avoid dropping them onto the icy pavement below. 

“I even heard he branded you.” Alan’s hot breath sent an unwelcome shiver over your skin. “Sherrie said she saw you in the locker room with… some kind of symbol… on your upper thigh, I believe?”

A biting breeze whooshed past you, but you didn’t feel it- your body had already gone ice cold. 

“Sherrie’s lying.”

“You know, I don’t think she is.” Alan’s hands crept closer toward you, ghosting fingertips across the fabric of your skirt. “But if you want to prove it to us…”

You felt your stomach drop when one of Alan’s friends stepped behind you, boxing you in. They were like vultures- to them, you were already down for the count. Ready to be picked at and preyed upon.

Slapping Alan’s hand away, you attempted once again to squeeze past him and his goons, anxious for the safety of your driver’s seat and a locked door between you and them. Unfortunately, Alan had other plans. 

“Come on,” he crooned, “girls don’t get tattoos unless they want people to see them. Go ahead and show us.”

“Go. Away.” you gritted through your teeth. 

“The Freak’s seen it, hasn't he?” Alan pressed, his hand grasping the fabric of your skirt in his fist. “What, you’ll slut yourself out for him, but not us?”

“What the fuck are you dickheads doing?” 

You’d never been so thankful to hear Robin’s voice in your life. 

Alan sneered at the unfamiliar sophomore, subtly letting go of your skirt. “Who the hell are you?” 

Robin marched up to the boy standing behind you, powering her glare with just enough ferocity that he actually moved aside. Grabbing your shoulders, Robin pulled you a good five feet from Alan and looked you square in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, pulling your car keys from the pocket of your backpack. You were anxious for something tangible to fidget with, something to ground you in where you stood, away from Alan and his wandering hands.

Once she was sure you were alright, Robin turned the full force of her fury on the boys that stood around your car. 

“Mr. Dunne was right behind me on his way out here, so unless you want me to tell him that I just found you groping a female student, I suggest you scram.” 

You saw Alan weighing his options for a moment, but eventually he stuck his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket and- thankfully- took his leave. 

“Whatever, freaks.” he muttered, strolling away like a brat who had grown up believing himself to be invincible in a system that agreed with him.  

It wasn’t until the two of you were both sitting in your car and safe behind locked doors that you finally let out the breath you’d evidently been holding. “Fuck him.” you huffed. “Fuck. Him.”

“Fuck him.” Robin agreed with an emphatic nod of her head. “Has he ever even talked to you before? That seemed… super random, honestly, I’ve never even seen him look in your direction.” 

“I may have picked a fight with him after I heard him call Eddie and I freaks in class not too long ago.” you winced, remembering how brazen you’d been that day… you’d been so bold, so fearless, but that girl was nowhere to be seen today. Instead, you’d frozen like a cornered fox surrounded by hounds. It made you feel so small, you thought you might be sick. You hated feeling this way.

“Apparently,” you continued, “his girlfriend saw my tattoo in the locker room. He said he wanted to see it for himself.” 

Robin had been the first person- and only person- you’d shown your little bat to after Halloween. She’d been pretty impressed… after she’d stopped worrying about it getting infected, of course. 

“First- ew. Gross.” Robin grimaced. “Second- are you telling me you just change in the locker room with that thing out in the open?” 

“I’m usually super careful about keeping it hidden!” you argued, “But it is a possibility that I might have been a little rushed to get to my next class at some point… I guess I wasn’t careful enough.”

A short silence settled while you mentally kicked yourself. I should have known this would happen. How could I be so careless? 

“Well,” Robin started, suddenly chipper. You knew this tone; she was about to try and cheer you up. Good luck, Rob. 

“You’re going to drive me to your house and then we’re baking cookies and watching whatever movie you want.” 

While you were still far from what you would consider over what just happened, your interest was definitely piqued. “Whatever movie I want?” you countered. 

Robin sighed. “I know what you’re about to ask, and yes, we can watch The Dark Crystal.”

The beginnings of a smile stretched across your face. “And you won’t call any of the puppets creepy at any point?”

“Let’s not go that far.” she deadpanned. “I will watch it, I will eat cookies, and I will not suggest that we turn it off before the movie is over. This is my final offer.”

For Robin, that was a pretty good deal. Your beginnings of a grin had graduated to a full-on smile as you took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “You’re a good friend.”

She returned your smile, and squeezed your hand back before letting go to buckle her seatbelt. “I’m a great friend. Now start driving, I’m hungry and we’re stopping for french fries.”

Part 7

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @sadlittlesquish, @clarafornerlyknownasclaire-blog , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight, @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult

I added a few people to the taglist who’ve shown an interest in the series or have been my sounding boards during the writing process for this story. Hope y’all don’t mind!😊❤️

[anitalenia]

hii!! i love your works! could you do some prompts with friends to enemies to lovers? like they were childhood best friends but became enemies because of a misunderstanding but then their feelings start to change??

also LOVE UR BLOG <333

friends to enemies to lovers prompts . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⋆˙⟡♡ thank you so much for the request ! I love when people request things I haven’t done in a while. Thank you for supporting and liking my blog, it’s much appreciated and I’m very grateful 🫶🏻✨🩷🖤 I hope these prompts are to your liking 🧚🏻‍♀️

⋆˙⟡♡ not gonna lie I had a hard time with this because I wasn’t sure what kind of prompts to write 😭 so if I did it wrong I deeply apologize 🫶🏻✨

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can never be in the same room without arguing — A is still hurt because of what B did and refuses to listen to them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A has never stopped thinking about person B even though B hates them now

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Don’t act like you never loved me.”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B found it easy to love each other despite their brief quarrel — they used to be best friends after all

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A struggles to admit they love B after all the hurt and betrayal they suffered from because of them in the past, afraid it will happen again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They both are enemies yet as A goes to kill B memories of their childhood together flash before their eyes and they don’t have the courage to do it… B forgives them and holds a crying A in their arms

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “You were just a friend… you meant nothing to me.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that after everything we did together.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B have long since ruined their friendship but can’t seem to stop remembering the other… staring at a picture they took as children or a withering flower they picked together in the garden all those years ago. It was much simpler times then… times when they didn’t know they were destined to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B share long, lingering stares as they soak in the grown up appearance of their childhood friend… no longer a child and no longer a friend yet it seemed love still lingered somewhere in the familiarity of their gazes. It would appear that love was not all lost, just carefully hidden

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can’t stop reminiscing about their brief hatred towards each other as they laugh about how silly it was years later

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “How can you forgive me? After everything I’ve done?”

“Because I know who you are better than anyone. I knew you before… this. I know this isn’t who you really are and I’ll be damned if I let anyone try and say otherwise.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once A realizes they love B they can’t seem to hide it very well, so they’re unintentionally rude towards B — B is very confused and now thinks A hates them all over again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A has a chest of all the artifacts from their childhood, including photographs and mementos of B. A can never stop thinking about what went wrong with B and regrets everything, wanting B back more than anything

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B always finds themselves talking about A to their minions even when they’re not around + minions are entirely aware their boss still harbors feelings for their enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Why?! Why did you save me?!”

“Because I love you… because… ever since we were kids you always needed saving. So, who better to do it than me?”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once their feelings start to change for each other A refuses to acknowledge them and becomes more grumpy / cruel to B, their used to be friend now enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced into close proximity and all those memories of their shared childhood (they were each others first kiss) start flashing through their mind as the heat thickens

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A wears a necklace or bracelet that B gave to them as children and can never seem to take it off even after the hate they now carry between them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A can’t help but defend B knowing better then anyone that B weren’t always evil. B looks at them grateful (confused, love struck that A would actually stand up for them after all this time)

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are lying in bed together and talk about the scars littering their bodies from their reckless adventures as children, even the fresh marks riddling their skin from when they tried to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B is now evil but keeps having dreams of their childhood best friend now enemy. A is also having dreams of B, remembering what it was like when they still liked each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Yes, they are enemies now, but they didn’t used to be. Which is why A can’t help but bandage B wounds after a fight. B wakes up with bandages all over with A nowhere to be found

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A finds it difficult to do any real damage towards B even though they are enemies. A still holds too much love for them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced to work together again on a mission even though they hate each other for something that happened years ago when they were kids. They start to get wrapped up in the familiarity and comfort the other provides as their defenses gradually start to drop and they find themselves laughing together once again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Although they are enemies, once best friends, A can’t help but bring their prisoner (B) their favorite food and a warm blanket to sleep with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A grows up with B and gradually falls in love with B. B ends up dating other people while A is forced to watch it all. A has started to give up that B would ever see them as anything more than a friend. A starts to date a bad guy (C) in hopes of getting over B until B realizes that this guy is no good for A and that they actually love A themselves. A gets mad and only accuses B of doing this because B was jealous of them yada yada. Eventually A realizes C is no good and finally gets with B

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B have been friends since they were children and have done everything together. They end up losing their virginity to each other and A overhears B bragging about it to his friends. A now hates B and cuts off their friendship. B must apologize and make up for their wrongs

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B and A have the same eye color, so every time they look in a mirror they can’t help but think of each other and wish for this silly fighting to stop already

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are enemies yet in the midst of the final battle A remembers their blood oath as children to never hurt one another, to always love each other. It convinces B to throw their weapon to the ground

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is being questioned by their evil boss on whether or not they are capable of killing B despite the history they have. A insists they can do the job, that B no longer matters to them. Until the time comes, and A realizes they can’t kill the love of their life and B whisks them away to safety away from the evil corp. they worked for

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ C tells A that B is doing shady things behind A’s back. A believes C even though C was lying about it all just to ruin their friendship and have A to themselves. A starts to hate B and cuts off their friendship. Later A realizes it was all lies and gets back together with B, realizing it was B who they loved all along

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and Person B are children of two rivaling kingdoms. They were friends as children but due to parent manipulation & royal obligation they started to share that same loathing for each other as they grew up (brainwashed to believe the other was bad). Once they both grow up they realize that history doesn’t have to repeat itself and try to get over their differences. Love ensues as they start to reconnect and deconstruct past traumas together

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A = good. Person B = bad. B is bullied in school / as a child because of (1) who their parents are or (2) their powers or (3) really whatever reason, but A treats them nicely anyway when no one ever has and befriends them. Eventually B “submits” to the darkness inside them and is now against A. A must try and bring them back from the darkness with the love they shared since they were kids

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They’re in the same friend group and can never be left alone together + always trying to make the friends pick sides to whose in the right. The friends can clearly tell they love each other just refuse to acknowledge it

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A was a noble princess and B a lowly servant — she was not allowed to socialize with him any longer. When she became queen, B still hated her for abandoning him as a child

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is a powerful masked figure that is set on destroying B. It wasn’t until later that B realizes A is their childhood friend they believed had died and is now fighting against. B can’t kill A no matter how vengeful and persistent A is

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are on opposing sides of the same war yet when B gets kidnapped by A’s team A can’t seem to forget everything they once shared. A must save B and B must get over their stubbornness if they want to make it out alive

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are two different species and their families hate each other. They became friends despite the physical and cultural differences but eventually B falls prey to their families beliefs, believing they must kill A. A has to try and reason with their childhood best friend they’ve always been in love with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B were inseparable as kids, but B ended up getting popular in school and left A behind. They stop being friends due to social pressures and differences until B realizes they miss A. Will they ever go back to the way things were?

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A goes off to college out of state and leaves B behind. B has harbored bad feelings towards A for this even when A suddenly returns to town years later with a fiancé. B realizes they love A despite the hostility and must break off the wedding between A and C

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A believes their best friend B is dating people they don’t actually like just to feel validated / important. A confronts B about it but they start arguing instead because B doesn’t like being confronted by A and denies the accusations. A is frustrated that B has only seen them as a friend when A knows who B truly is and would never ask them to change who they are just to be loved *hope this made sense*

“How can you not see that the person who’s really right for you has been standing right in front of you your whole life? Are you that blind?!”

“… What are you talking about?”

“Me!… I’m that person. I’ve loved you since we were kids and I see you dating these people who don’t even appreciate you or even want you! I’ve always wanted you, I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’d treat you better than any of those jerks you choose to date.” (Something to this effect ykyk)

[thebookanaconda]

Guess what I saw on reddit today!!!

[thatcoolguyeli]

rosekiller are friends to friends with benefits to friends to enemies to friends with extreme sexual tension to enemies to lovers

[chiriwritesstuff]

Hometown Glory; a Frankie Morales Series Announcement!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Lawyer Reader

Series Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Series Summary: You're thriving in your career, having established yourself as a sought-after family lawyer in the bustling city. But there's a pull back to your hometown, a longing for roots and a sense of belonging that drives you to open your own firm there.

Just as you're settling into this new chapter, a blast from the past walks through your office doors. It's him—the man who unknowingly held your heart, the one you never quite got over. A face you swore you would never see again... and he's seeking your legal help for his divorce and custody battle from the girl you believed to be your best friend.

You two never officially dated, but the chemistry between you was undeniable. Yet a string of misunderstandings and missed chances kept you apart, leaving you with lingering feelings and unanswered questions.

Now, as you find yourself face-to-face with him again, old emotions resurface, along with memories of what could have been. But amidst the legal complexities of his divorce, you realize this might be the opportunity you've been waiting for—to finally address the lingering feelings between you and uncover the truth that has kept you apart for so long.

Series Warnings and Tags: Frankie and reader meet as kids, jealous best friends, reader has issues with trying to be perfect, complete misunderstandings, someone manipulates them out of being together, all of the cute flashbacks, lawyer goes from sweetheart to ice queen to back to the hometown glory, 'hes no good for you', its me and you against the world (or this town), this will be so sexy but SLOW BURN, that dreaded prom night, second chances, he's always loved her, shes always loved him, fix him fic, he shows her how to live.

Chapter 1 - Back to the Old House, coming soon!

[me-writes-prompts]

-:Friends to enemies to lovers-:

(I’m such a sucker for this trope, mind you, this is very war-coded, so TAG ME WHEN YOU WRITE ANY OF THESE!!!! :)

By @me-writes-prompts

"So, how have you managed to come this far?"

“Do you remember how we used to duel with swords?” “Yeah, you’d always lose. Hard to forget.” “Show off.”

“If I’d known we’d end up like this, I would’ve run away with you.” “Wrong time, wrong place.”

Person A has a small bracelet that they bought with Person B, they were never able to throw it away because they always use it when they have panic attacks to calm themself.

“So…we’re enemies now, huh?” “If that’s what you choose to label us as. Then, yes.”

Person B gets injured during their fight, and Person A *subtly* tries to help them.

Trying to not glance in the other's direction

^^Staring the other down to scare them, but internally they are freaking out.

“This was never supposed to happen. If only-…” “If only we weren’t so stupid to believe that we could rebuild what we had between us.”

“I hate you.” “Surprisingly, I hate you too.”

Being forced into different sides. Having to pretend to never know the other one.

“You’ve improved your fighting tactics, I see.” “I’ve also improved my sense of trust. And my senses tell me, you’re not the same person you were the last time I saw you.” “How so very sad, my senses are telling me the same.”

[rosiemarieyn]

I Don't Like You, I Love You.

pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Summary: Robert Fischer, who was once your childhood best friend, becomes an enemy because of you guys' parents. Ten years later, both your parents decide it would be for the best for both of you to marry and save the broken bridge between both your family.

Genre: slight angst, fluff, friends to enemies to lovers

word count: 2.1k

Note: Friends just said they dont like me lol anyways enjoy!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Your parents' rivalry affected you guys' friendship. Both very young, playing in one of the many rooms in your parents' mansion. Roberts's father came in and without saying a word, dragged him out of the mansion. That was the last time you saw Robert.

Ten years later, here he is, sitting right in front of you with a fancy candle-lit dinner set on the table. He changed. He became just like his father. Cold, deadly eyes staring into your soul, trying to figure out what makes you attractive to him.

"So…how's life?" he muttered, annoyed at his father for arranging a dinner date with you. "Good." you mumbled while playing with the expensive steak on your plate. You looked up to meet his striking blue eyes boring into yours "You do know why we are here, right?" he said, raising his eyebrow while taking a sip from his red wine. "I'm aware." You stated softly, knowing he didn't want to marry you. "I don't like you." he made his point clear, "I know." you replied, looking down at your plate, trying to make yourself get used to the fact that you will never marry someone you love or someone who loves you.

The wedding night, the honeymoon, the passion…was all fake. Even after 5 years of marriage, both of you decided it was for the best to sleep in separate beds…

Until one night, he opened your bedroom door, standing in the doorway. You opened your eyes, groaning a little while rubbing your eyes and speaking in a husky voice "You need something?" he didn't make any noise, which made you worried and slightly anxious "Is something wrong?" you spoke again, trying to get him to say at least one word.

You sat straight and leaned against the bedframe, "I need comfort." he stated, before you could protest, he joined you under the covers, pulling you close. What's with the sudden change in mindset?" you looked up. "I think we should act more like we are married, you know?" "I thought you didn't like me" he went silent after you said that, you huffed, turning to the other side facing away from him. He looked at the top of your head, smiled softly, and kissed it.

"I don't like you, I love you."

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

[thepenultimateword]

Skin Crawl Part Two

Part One

CW: bugs, shedding skin (the description has the possibility of grossing people out)

Hero pinched themselves hard in the thigh, managing to snap our of their gawking stupor.

Ok. This was real. Villain--their Villain--was here and a criminal and apparently in a relationship. Not that that mattered, it wasn't like they'd ever been anything anyway. It'd been 8 years, and Hero had gone on plenty of dates in that time too; it would be weirder if Villain hadn't, so smooth and beautiful and interesting as they were. And Hero was the one who cut contact, so they didn’t really care what Villain did or who with, though maybe they should be focusing more on the criminal part of things, namely the imminent danger they would be in if they were found out, not just as a member of the agency but as Hero.

"Y-you don't want to make an appearance?" Hero said, attempting composure. It was not their best work.

"And ruin all your hard work?" Villain said with a tsk. "Despite what you think, I'm not that ostentatious. Come."

Hero sauntered closer, uncomfortably aware of their longer gait. Shedding one's skin could do many things, but it could not alter height. Bones were stubborn, painful things to change. Most people didn't notice a few-inch difference, and slouching, heels, or any manner of things could hide it. A familiar face blinded even the closest of friends and family. After all, shapeshifting wasn’t exactly a go-to suspicion. But Villain knew. Eight years ago they'd gotten good at picking Hero out of a crowd. If anyone was to notice that Remy was too tall, it would be them.

They consciously shortened their steps.

Villain dropped into a seat behind their desk, tossing the moth wings to either side of them. Hero carefully stepped over the curling tails and hesitated behind the criminal's shoulder. They were even more breathtaking up close. Hero had to fight the urge to run their hand down the velvet stretch of one wing. When had they learned to extend their power this way? At least, Hero had to assume the new appendages were due to their power. Abilities tended to have more angles than expected when properly trained. Did that mean Villain had found a trainer? Hero couldn’t imagine it. Their old friend had been so sensitive about using their gifts in front of others, and they’d had no relevant career plans to motivate further development. Though obviously neither of those things were the case now with Villain a criminal and flaunting their buggy affiliation to the world. People could change a lot in 8 years. Maybe Hero just didn’t know them anymore.

Had they been standing here too long?

Lover, Hero! they snapped internally. You're their lover! Do something lovers would do!

Their insides twisted.

They had played lovers dozens of times in their career and all that role entailed. Stepping into another's skin was like stepping into another reality, completely separate from their own. It didn't matter what they did or said, it wasn't them. But suddenly the idea of touching Villain hitched their breath in their throat, and they knew that reaction didn’t come from being Remy.

They would not slip through the cracks in this mask.

Hero gently draped themselves across Villain's back, wrapping their arms tenderly around their neck and tucking their chin against their lean shoulder. Hopefully, Vilain couldn't feel their heart pounding violently into their leather duster.

The centipede on Villain's shoulder took the opportunity of a new nearby surface and skittered up Hero's cheek, tangling its long body between the strands of their hair.

"You can quit the act," Villain said, shrugging Hero off. "No one else is around."

Quit...

Hero's stomach dropped. Did Villain know? How long? When they touched them? Since they entered the room?

"I--"

"And yes, I've checked for cameras. I don't accept building rentals from your family without thoroughly looking it over first."

Hero blinked.

Wait.

No.

They weren't referring to Hero's act. They meant Remy's. Remy's act of affection. Because... Oh. Oh! The relationship was fake!

The relief was intense, unexpected, and quickly smothered. They had a job, and if Villain was a part of it, that was too bad, but it didn't change anything.

Hero hastily grasped for the little they knew of their cover's personality. They'd hosted this party, their family rented this building, and they looked great in a silver ribbon tie.

"Well,” they said sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing one leg cavalierly over the other. “You can never be too careful. Also bug." They tipped their head toward Villain. "Bug."

Villain sighed and parted Hero's hair with careful fingers, manicured nails just scraping their scalp, and plucked up the centipede by its squirming middle. Then, tipping their head way back, they swallowed the entire massive creature in one gulp.

“John Macias is here.” They held up a rose gold tablet to Hero’s face. The screen displayed several panels of camera footage taking place in and directly outside the building. “And Lottie Blake.”

Hero knew both those names. The first was a generous donor to the agency. His funds had bought them a new combat training gym and updated the medical wing. He'd hinted at making the donations more regular, so now he was invited to every banquet, award ceremony, and exclusive event the agency held; he had even been given an extensive inside tour of the facilities. The press and the higher-ups liked to make a big fuss over him, but somehow Hero had the impression he wasn't giving money out of the goodness of his heart. As for Lottie, she was an ex-hero turned celebrity. Hero had been a rookie when she stepped down from the role of team leader and agency posterchild and turned to modeling and influencing, so they'd never met personally. However, they had enough associates in common for Hero to know she had been well-loved.

"Ok, so what's next?” Hero said. The faster they figured out Villain's plan, the faster they could get out of this situation.

“Your favorite part," Villain said. "Shopping.”

***

Hero had been prepared for many things tonight, but they had not prepared to be kneeling on the floor of Lottie Blake’s walk-in closet, rapidly stuffing designer heels and dresses into a garbage sack.

"You take the upstairs, I’ll take the downstairs,” Villain had said once inside--a disconcertingly easy task since Miss Blake's security was with her at the gala. A few guards were posted at the door and around the perimeter of the glamorous building but none had thought it very important to look up.

Villain's wings were even more gorgeous unfurled, pitch black against the night except for a faint silver lining that caught the moonlight, creating a glimmering outline from underneath. If that wasn't enough, the things were enormous, even larger than Villain's armspan. Hero supposed they would have to be to get them into the air, especially holding Hero under the arms. Once again, Hero had feared exposure by the difference in weight, but Villain hadn't said anything.

Inside there had been cameras, but a swarm of ants could look an awful lot like static when they crawled right against the lenses.

Hero shoved one more pair of glittery heels into the sack and then crawled to the closet door, peeking out into the bedroom to ensure they were alone. Finding the room empty, they fished their earpiece out of their pocket and pressed the call button.

"Hero?" came Other Hero's voice.

"So I figured out the heist," Hero said. "It's a robbery. The gala is just a distraction for both Lottie Blake and John Macias while Villain breaks into their houses."

"Seems like a lot of work for something as simple as a robbery."

Hero shrugged but then realized that Other Hero couldn't see them. "Maybe. I'll keep you updated when I find out what Villain is stealing. They're downstairs." A sudden image of the other agency members bursting in flashed across Hero's mind. Shoving Villain down. Crumpling those long moth wings like tissue paper. Revealing themselves as Hero. They suddenly felt nauseous. "I should probably stay undercover for as long as I can. That way I can gather more info."

Other Hero paused. "If you're up to it, I won't complain. But we can't just let criminals rob prominent agency affiliates."

Not if they wanted to continue getting donations.

"I think we should allow at least one hit, so Villain doesn't get suspicious," Hero said. "But we're going to have to come up with a plausible reason to alert Macia's security. One that doesn't involved Villain getting arrested."

"Leave that to me," Other Hero said. "You work on keeping your cover."

The call cut off, leaving Hero in anxious silence on the closet floor.

"Remy."

Hero's stomach leaped and they peeked out of the closet a second time. Villain stood in the bedroom door, carrying nothing but an apple.

They took a large bite and jerked their head behind them. "Ready?"

Hero pushed themselves to their feet and swung the garbage sack over their shoulder."Yeah. Let's go."

Villain peered at the sack as they headed out onto the bedroom balcony. "Quite the haul this time."

"You said to take the upstairs, so I took the upstairs." Hero gave them another quick once over. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Villain fished a sleek black thumbdrive out of their pocket, rolling it over their fingers with a smile. "You could say I'm satisfied."

Not just any robbery then. But what info could Lottie Blake have that a criminal wanted. She wasn't exactly secretive. In fact, she seemed to enjoy flaunting every little detail of her life. Perhaps it was bank account information? Or past hero records?

No, they shouldn't overthink, all in good time.

"Good," they said.

Villain shoved the drive back into their pocket and stepped up behind Hero, casually wrapping their arms around their middle. Hero held their breath.

Calm down, calm down. You are Remy. Remy is not in love with Villain. Are they?

Villain's chest pressed sturdy and warm against Hero's back as they unfurled their wings, and that second pair of arms, or legs, grabbed their hips, securing them completely as they took flight. Hero had been too focused on their weight the first time to notice just how much care Villain put into transporting them comfortably, no dangling lower-half or painful pressure on one point of their body. Villain had always been thoughtful that way, not that anyone back at school recognized it.

What would it have been like to do this back then? To be held as themself. Before the secrets. Before the fallout.

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"What?" Villain said.

"Being able to fly. Is it just normal for you? Or is it always amazing?"

"I thought it made you sick?" Villain said.

Hero choked. "Right. It does. But objectively, flying is amazing. So I was just curious. Forget it."

Villain's wing movements were soundless. And along with the long pause, all Hero could hear was the breeze brushing past their ears. Great. They'd screwed up.

"It's always amazing," Villain said suddenly. "I'm not saying I don't take it for granted, but if I was to ever lose this... It would be unbearable."

Villian had always been trapped in their life. In more ways than one. By parents, by circumstances, by expectations. Even if Hero was tricking them right now, possibly leading them into another cage, they were happy that Villain had found some freedom. Is that what had turned him to crime? A search for freedom?

"Villain--"

"Crap." Villain pulled up higher into the sky. Blue and red lights bathed the entire street in flashing blue and red.

Hero cranked their neck back to look up into their frowning face.

"How did they figure out we were coming?"

"Do you think someone saw us at Lottie's house?"

"Maybe. But even so, I don't know how they would've figured out our next target."

"Coincidence? For all we know everyone was tipped off, not just Macias."

Villain didn't respond to that. They just sighed heavily. "Well, that's that ruined."

"What do we do now?" Hero asked tentatively. "Go back to the party?"

"No point. The heroes probably have set up a trap. Hotel?"

Hero's insides went electric. Did Villain not have their own place? What about Remy? Didn't they have a rich family? But the way he was asking made it sound like a plan, not spontaneity. Great, Hero really hadn't wanted to wear this skin overnight.

"Hotel." Hero agreed. "But when you say that, you mean two separate rooms, right? Because you know I need my space--"

"You have your room, Remy."

"Ok, ok, just making sure."

A few minutes later, Villain landed them in an alley. They walked the rest of the way to a hotel just up the block. Not too shabby, but nothing extravagant either.

"Give me your jacket," they demanded just before reaching the door.

"What?"

"Your jacket. Unless you want thrown out before we even check in. People don't always take kindly to a bugman walking through their door. Especially hotels."

"Right!" Hero quickly shrugged off their wool, black coat, and passed it over to Villain. Villain threw it gingerly over their shoulders. It was a bit small for them, so the woman at the desk stared at them a bit strangely, but Hero supposed it was better than moth wings and an extra pair of legs.

Rooms 203 and 204. They walked together up the flight of stairs, stopping just outside their doors.

"I'll check the drive tonight and let you know what I've found in the morning," Villain said.

Or Hero could find out now and report it to Other Hero before morning.

"I could help."

"Ha! No offense, Rems, but I don't trust you with my laptop. You've broken my technology one too many times."

"Ah, well, I offered. Don't complain that I didn't help tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Remy," Villain said, rolling their eyes.

Hero knew that Villain wasn't talking to them. Not really. But for a moment it was so reminiscent of their teenage years. Staying up late. Not wanting to go back to either home.

Their heart squeezed. "Goodnight."

They gently shut the door and let out a long breath as they trudged over to the bed, flopping down face first.

What a nightmare. They couldn't wait to be back in their own skin. They forced themselves off the bed and into the shower where the evidence would wash away quicker. They stripped out of their clothes and rolled their muscles gingerly feeling the skin loosen like wet plaster. It sloughed off in dead sheets, revealing a more freckled skin beneath. Within a few minutes they were back to themselves again, They grabbed a towel from the hook, leaving the water running to break up the shed skin and wash it down the drain.

As they exited the bathroom, Hero dragged the table chair to the vanity and surveyed their face in the mirror. They tugged gently at a stubborn piece of skin, half-peeled under their right eye.

Next, they rubbed at their throat ponderingly, weighing pros and cons. Eventually, they decided to leave the vocal cords intact. Their throat might feel weird and cottony in the morning but hacking up bloody tissue was the last thing they wanted to do right now. Not to mention they’d just be shifting right back tomorrow. Best not to put too much strain on them by overshifting

A loud rap on the door made them leap in their seat.

"Just--just a second!"

They looked rapidly around the room. Clothes…clothes… Where were their clothes?

Hero scrambled toward the bathroom, snatching up water dropped outfit, chasing as the fabric caught on their damp skin. After a lot of hopping and maybe also a bit of fabric stretching, they strode to the door.

They were already grabbing the handle when they remembered their face.

The bit back another curse, and their face exploded with prickles as the newly shed skin encased them once again. Just in time to meet Villain’s off-in-thought face.

Their expression snapped back to alertness with the creak of the door.

"Hey, Remy--"

They froze.

"What?" Hero said, heart pounding. Was the face wrong? They’d spent so long studying it today, surely it wasn’t wrong?

"You're bleeding."

Hero felt their face. Sure enough, a warm streak of blood smeared across their forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Oh, yeah. Just cut myself. You know...shaping my eyebrows."

"Right..."

Hero pressed their palm over the tear and with their other arm leaned casually against the frame. "Did you need something?"

Villain stared at them a moment. "Just curious if you wanted something from the vending machine. I'm asking the desk for an extra pillow and thought I'd grab some drinks or snacks or something on my way back."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe a Coke?"

Villain smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” They paused. “I’ll bring back a bandaid too.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Sure.”

As they stepped away, Hero quickly shut the door. Had Villain reacted strangely? Were they overthinking because of their close call?

Hero sped to the mirror turning their head from side to side. Yep, still exactly like the picture, well except for the cut across her forehead.

There would have been no reason to question them, right? They probably didn’t need to call Other Hero and worry them over nothing.

Hero sat back on the bed, only vaguely annoyed that they’d need to rushed part of their body all over again. The annoyance was eclipsed by the gnawing worry inside of l them. They really hoped they hadn’t gotten anything wrong,