#I know not a lot is known about it yet but wanted Stella to notice the slight change in apperance <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Tangled Training//Kirishima

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!!

Second part of my Teacher's Pet Series! Summary: Known as the Number 1 ranked Boxer: Red Riot. An injury caused him to chuck his career in, but his bright spirit wasn’t dimmed. Instead, he decided to teach sport study, allowing him to share his passion with the younger generation, thus helping them to a bright future. When you signed up for the boxing course you didn’t expect to see your professor and certainly didn’t plan on fucking him in his gym, but fate works in funny ways. Words:3.9k+

TW:nsfw: mention of an unhappy relationship, praising, riding, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, bitting, spanking, scratching, him calling you sweet nicknames while having sex (princess, baby, good girl,)

„Miss Y/L/N! Never knew you were into boxing! Happy to see you here, nice form,“ it was no other than your teacher, clad in a white tank top and loose black and red shorts, a pearly smile beaming at you. „Professor! I didn’t expect to see you here,“ you greeted the tall man standing next to the ring, making you taller by a few inches. „Well, it is my gym,“ Kirishima said, throwing the towel he was holding over his shoulder. „It is? When I signed up your name wasn’t mentioned at all,“ how embarrassing. Did you really miss his name when you looked into the gym? „That’s on purpose. I really appreciate my fans, but this is meant to be a safe space, and having it crowded with strangers wouldn’t really adherence that,“ he explained with a smile and stepped into the ring, the high difference now even more noticeable than before.

His black hair was pulled back into a low bun, a few strands slipping out of it and framing his handsome face. A healed cut went down from his brow to below his eye adding to his studly appearance, not to mention his trained arms that were on full display. „How long have you been here already? It can’t be for long, I would have definitely noticed you,“ he took the coaching cushion from the woman you had been training with, fixing them around his hands and turning back to you. „This is only my third lesson, I’m barely at the beginning,“ you told him, a nervous feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. „Mina is one of my best teachers! You’re in good hands with her, but in even better ones with me."

From that moment on you trained with him every other week. As much as the two of you tried to keep the relationship strictly as student and teacher in both ways, the more you saw him the harder it got. You noticed how you slowly started comparing your boyfriend to him, how Kirishima did certain things and he didn’t. Like how your professor would always open doors for you, make sure you’re home safe. He remembered important appointments and ask you how they went, never belittled or made fun of your problems or worries. When you told him your favorite show or book or song he would always look into it because he knew it would mean a lot to you and it would allow him to get to know you even more.

At first, he didn’t even realize what he was doing. While he thought about cutting your relationship, whatever weird state it was in right now, he also thought about how much he enjoyed spending time with you. How much he could potentially hurt you. And the sting in his heart wouldn’t allow that, even if he knew it would have been the better choice. As far as he knew you had a partner, so nothing could go wrong, right?

The day everything changed was no other day than your birthday. Your boyfriend had promised at least five times that he will spend the night with you, party into it, give you your first gift and wake you up with an amazing breakfast. But when the clock turned midnight there was no sight of him, no text, no call, nothing. In the beginning, you thought he might prank you, surprise you and act like it was all a stupid joke. You wouldn’t be a big fan of it but it would be better than him not being there at all. Your phone rang, once, twice. Your best friend had texted you a sweet message, telling you they can’t wait to celebrate and see you soon, the other text was someone from your family telling you the same. At 12:12 a.m. your phone rang yet again because of another text message.

„Hey Y/N! Happy birthday my little boxing champ. I’m proud of how far you have gotten and can’t wait to see how far you’ll come. Just know that I believe in you and if anything happens, you can always count on me! See you soon, hope you get celebrated the way you deserve it.

-Eijro“

You didn’t know what to say, overwhelmed with the current situation. There was no way you could deny the butterflies setting off in your stomach as you read through the simple, yet sweet message. You weren’t meant to feel that way for another person while dating your partner. You especially weren’t meant to be so feel that way for your professor out of all people.

When the clock read 01:10 a.m. you heard a knock on your door. Opening it your eyes fell upon your apologetically looking boyfriend, with a cake and small bouquet.

„Hey babe, I’m sorry for being so late, but I’m here now. I got you your favorite cake and another surprise coming soon,“ he kissed you shortly before walking into your kitchen to put everything down. „Happy Birthday!“ He engulfed you in a tight hug and planted another kiss on your lips, before walking back to unbox the cake. „Thank you,“ you said while watching him cut into it. When you saw the inside you felt disappointment forming in your stomach. „Is that (add flavor you don’t like) cake?“ You asked, hoping it simply looked similar. „Yeah why?“ You couldn’t help but pick up his slightly pissed tone „Oh… It’s just… Never mind, thank you,“ you had definitely dated long enough for him to know what you liked and what not and you remembered clear as day that you had talked to him about this because it was his brother’s wedding and he told you to stop being picky about it. „No. What did I do wrong now? “ he said while rolling his eyes.

And that was the start of a two-hour-long fight, ending in you calling it quits after finding the receipt of the 7/11 around the corner, telling you he brought your presents ten minutes before arriving at your place.

There was no way you could go to bed now, angry tears streaming down your face as you took your phone in your hand, texting the only person you wanted to talk to right now. Not even a minute after you send the text your phone rang. „What’s wrong?“ Was the first thing he asked, voice deeper than usual. „I’m sorry, did I wake you up?“ You could hear him shift at the other end of the line like he was getting out of bed. „That doesn’t matter. Why are you crying?“ You had never heard him so concerned and you felt bad for being the cause of it. „I fought with my bo- My ex and I’m angry and hurt and I don’t know,“ you felt another set of tears ready to roll down and a shaky breath cut the short silence between the two of you. „I’ll be there in 15 minutes, don’t come downstairs before I text you,“ you couldn’t answer anymore. He had ended the call and you starred at your phone dumbfounded.

Before Eijiro’s text arrived you had changed into something other than your pajamas and washed your face to look slightly less like you had just cried your eyes out.

When you saw him standing there in front of his big jeep, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and black hoodie you couldn’t stop yourself from running up to him, feeling his strong arms wrap you in a tight hug after being caught off guard for a second.

„Thank you for coming by,“ you mumbled into his chest, slightly disappointed when pulled away. „Of course, anytime. What would you like do to?“ Kirishima asked, opening the passenger door for you. „Like punching a motherfucker,“ Your eyes fell upon a small box and he picked it up. „You said you really liked this cake, so I thought I get it for you. It’s nothing much,“ the warm smile he gave you was the best gift you had received so far. „But the bakery is on the other side of town, thank you so much!“ to say you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing was understandable, but then again so was getting up for your student at almost four in the morning. „No biggie, really,“ once you were seated he took off, driving to the place you grew so familiar with.

„You can let it all out, punch as hard as you can,“ he told you as the two of you stood inside the boxing ring, his hair tied up again. And you did, you punched over and over again, imagining his face on the red cushions. „I can’t believe I ever thought about a future together with that prick!“ You said in between punches. „What was the fight about anyway?“ It was your birthday and to know it started like that made him sad.

„You won't believe it! Not only did he get the wrong cake and withering flowers after FOUR years of dating, no, he was two hours too late than he promised me. Do you think he called or at least send me a text to let me know he might be too late? Of course, he didn’t. That’s not even the worst part! Do you know why he was too late? Because his ex Stella needed help with her fucking car! He ditched me on my birthday for his ex and about half an hour before getting to my place he remember that he had no present for me. At one point I was so angry because he said a birthday is like every other day and I shouldn’t be mad that he almost forgot. I told him that even you, my professor, remembered my birthday and congratulated me sooner than he did. He said if you were so much better than he was I should just go and fuck you instead and I said: You know what, I might and it would be the best night of my life! Then he called me a whore and I told him I would rather be that than his girlfriend, so I broke up with him,“ you rambled, noticing too late that he had his hands down.

The sudden impact and his improper stand lead to him stumbling and falling back. Worry was written across your face as you kneeled between his spread legs. „I’m so, so sorry, I was rambling and didn’t pay attention, are you okay?“ You were on eye level with him now while you lift his hoodie to look at his rip, apologizing yet again when you saw the red spot. The black-haired man stared at you, half in awe, half in lust. „Don’t worry, I’m okay, I was just caught off guard,“ he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, causing you to look up only to find his eyes on you already. „Why did you take your hands down?“ You unwrapped your other hand from the glove, applying pressure to the spot to make sure everything was good. „I just… I was surprised, that’s all,“ „Surprised? Why? Did I do something wrong?“ Your eyes flickered from left to right, breath hitching in your throat as his big hand went to your cheek, his thumb stroking it softly. „You said you might fuck me,“ he chuckled, nose tips now touching „Professor, I’m so sor-,“ before you could say something else his soft, plump lips were on yours, moving in perfect sync.

Every worry, every thought, every doubt vanished within seconds as he pulled your body closer to his. Your top didn’t stop his hand from slipping onto the small of your back and the moment his bare skin was on yours it felt like small electric shocks went through your lower region. A low groan vibrated against your lips as you ground your hips against his, feeling him harden beneath you, his breath was now slightly unsteady.

It could have been minutes or hours, you didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care to check, before he broke the kiss, pulling the hoodie over his head after you tugged on it, smiling when he saw the way you looked at him. Not the boxing champion, not the rich man, you wanted him.

Pulling your top over your head before he flipped you over with his arm around your waist and his thigh between your legs allowed him to tease you in all the right places.

Kirishima didn’t hide the pleasure he felt hearing you whine underneath him while he got you rilled up, kissing your body and leaving behind an obvious mark on your chest. You had never noticed how sharp they actually are until they bit down onto your delicate skin, his hands creepy down your stomach into your pants. He wasn’t going to touch you just yet, but the feeling of his middle finger over your slowly damping underwear, ghosting over your clit, close enough to set off soft tingles but never touching you where you most wanted it.

„You look so beautiful,“ he told you, before his lips met yours again, swallowing your soft moans. „Please I need you,“ you were going to buck your hips up in hopes he would touch you but he had you in full control, keeping your hips in place while he dragged his fingers painfully slow over your clit. „Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone is impatient,“ the older man kneeled in front of you, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your pants and pulled them down.

His eyes fell upon the wet spot between your legs and he couldn’t wait to be buried in between your thighs, feeling them shake around him while his name will fall from your rosy lips. „Be a good girl for me and sit on my face,“ his raspy voice whispered in your ears, biting down on your lobe softly. Sensing a moment of hesitation before he took your hand in his, pulling you up after kissing your knuckles.

„Gotta prep you before I fuck you, don’t want my princess to be in pain now, do we?“ Before you could tell him you were ready for him, needed him inside of you, needed him to stuff you full he took your hand in his, wrapping it around his length. The further you went up to his thick length, the more you realized that you were, in fact, absolutely not ready for him. „Told you so,“ his chuckle was cut short when your thumb circled around his sensitive head, but your deviant attitude was cut short when he grabbed you and put you in place. Now you kneeled on top of him and red eyes looked up to you through thick, dark lashes „Don’t think for one moment that you are in control, I could throw you around like a rag doll,“ there was no doubt in your mind that he could and would and as much as you liked the sound of it right now you wanted nothing more but to feel pleasure.

Kirishima was taking his sweet time, worshiping your thighs with bites and kisses. Whenever he would switch from left to right he would make sure to blow cold air and kiss just below your for attention begging clit. Your squirming appears to only make him go longer until you broke.

„Please Eijiro, I can’t take it anymore,“ your voice was cracking, almost as if you were about to cry and maybe you were because he touched you everywhere but where you most needed it. „Keep being good for me and use your words,“ „Please eat me ou-“ as if that’s all he waited for he spits onto your pussy before attaching his lips around your clit, cutting you off with your own moan.

He gave you cunnilingus like a mad man, your wet cunt the only medicine for his sickness. Never would you have thought that it could feel so titillating to have a man between your legs. It was as if the only thought in his brain right now was your pleasure, nothing else, just the need to make you cum. His slick muscle would lap out every once in a while, dip into you to taste more of you, ere it reappeared where it started, flicking up and down, left and right, things you never even knew off. Your first orgasm came crashing down in less than five minutes, but he was nowhere near done with tongue fucking you. It was after your fourth orgasm that he stopped, only for a minute to bite your folds gently and look at the mess he created.

You were going to stand up, or at least raise yourself from his mouth to allow yourself to calm down from the immense pleasure seeping through your body leading to Kirishima tightening the grip around your legs.

„Just a little more princess, you can take it,“ another few kisses were planted on your inner thighs. „It’s so much,“ you breathed, your body still shaking. „I know, but it’s your birthday. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t fuck you properly, huh?“

And while the thought of overstimulating you so much you would cry and beg for him to stop sounded absolutely ravishing, he knew he had to wait a little longer. The last thing he wanted you to do was to cry on your birthday, again.

Only when he started tugging on his hair harshly did he realize how strong he was holding you down and he was sure there will be bruises the next day. By the way, you were moaning his name you didn’t mind though, so he raised his hands up slightly just to come back down with a loud smack. Another one. And another one. If he is going to die because you squeezed his head he would die doing what he loved. Eijiro could feel how close you were again and considering he was going to pound into you with as much of him as you could take a bit of stretching would be the second-best preparation.

One, then two fingers slipped inside you easily, your juices coating his fingers, clenching around them while he stretched you open as good as he could. Tilting over to the front when your fifth orgasm of the night hit you let him loosen his hold over you, pulling you into his lap once again.

„You did so well, I’m proud of you,“ soft strokes over your back helped you calm down, the stars in front of your eyes slowly disappearing „Had enough?“ He asked you, thumb going over the red spots he had left behind. „No please, I want more,“ to prove your point you went back on your knees and kissing him deeply. His tongue in your mouth allowed you to taste yourself on him whilst your hand pulled his thick cock from his sweatpants. Pre-cum made the angry, redhead glister in the soft light falling from the hanging lamp above you.

Pushing against him slightly signaled him to lay down and he did, watching you as your upper body rose up. You looked so beautiful on top of him, letting him see you in your full glory and he wished this moment would last forever so he won’t miss a single detail about you. Your eyes were fixated on his meat that was between your hands and in a way you looked love drunk, just only for his dick.

Positioning yourself over him, your hands guiding his tip along your folds. He kept you steady by holding your waist because your legs were still weak while pushing yourself down, feeling every inch entering your throbbing cunt.

„There you go princess, just like that,“ it took everything inside of him to buckle up and push the rest into you, but he knew he can’t do that for the first time between the two of you.

Halting for a few seconds when you had him balls deep in you allowed you to take a shaky breath. It felt like his dick specially designed just for you, his length hitting all the right spots, his thickness filling you up in the best way possible.

„Everything okay?“ Kiri asked, drawing circles on your hips. „Yeah, you’re just so big,“ the moment you started riding him, moans slipping out of your mouth with no break in between was the moment he lost himself.

Pulling you down to him, both hands across your back, and in the very second putting his feet to the ground allowed him to push into you over and over again with his full length. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans and screams, provocations and his name echoed from the walls. It only fueled him more.

Nails dug into his flesh, leaving marks all over his body in an attempt to not lose yourself completely while waves of pleasure crashed through you.

„You’re doing so good baby, I’m proud of you. Taking me so well,“ every once in a while he would moan as well, the feeling you clench around him, close to your next orgasm. Delivering a smack to your ass sent you over the edge, having you dig your nails even deeper, leading to him going harder. Kirishima could feel himself getting closer to his own release as well, but he wanted you to come one more time.

„Look at me, I want you to look in my eyes while you cum,“ you turned your face to the side, noses touching. You couldn't look straight anymore, eyes droopy as puffy, spit-covered lips fell open as yet another moan slipped past them. „You like this don’t you? Of course, you do,“ he grunted, spanking you again. Angling his thrusts slightly different made you almost blackout as he hit a certain spot over and over again. „One more okay? I know you can take it“ A feeling you had never felt before started forming in the pit of your stomach as stars blurred your vision almost completely.

Your scream was swallowed by his lips on yours, his hips snapping up every second, chasing his own orgasm. And when he saw you laying on top of him with a light film of sweat, eyes slightly watery, mouth agape, and messy hair he came painting your insides white. Sloppy strokes stopped and you could feel his lips on your forehead, then your lips. They weren’t as lustful anymore, not as harsh and demanding, rather soft and sweet as if you were a delicate flower. Such a contrast within nothing more but a minute.

„You did amazing,“ he whispered, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. „How about I carry you upstairs, hm? Shower and eat some of the cake as breakfast?“ All you could do was nod your head, feeling his strong arms underneath you to pick you up. „I was right,“ you mumbled with your head on his shoulder. A red door swung open, revealing a small hallway and lift to put a code in. Waiting for the elevator to open he looked down at you, asking what you were right about. „This was the best night I ever had,“ a small, exhausted smile made its way to your face. „If you’re not too bruised in the morning just wait till round two,“ he mumbled against your forehead, feeling your arms tighten around his neck.

©Kirishoshego//do not repost on any platform

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peeterparkr · 3 years

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red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

next chapter

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imkylotrash · 3 years

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Pairing: Musa x reader

Request: I’d love a Musa x fem reader. Maybe something angsty with fluff. Anonymous

A/N In my defense, the anon who requested this did say angst with fluff and not fluff with angst 😂

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind

“I got you breakfast, sleepyhead. Wake up.” You set the tray down on the table next to her bed before sitting down on the side of the bed. She groans making you chuckle. Mornings have never been her thing and frankly, not yours either. But you wanted to do something special for your anniversary and since it’s limited what you can do while at Alfea, you figured breakfast in bed would be a cute thing to do. You give her a minute to open her eyes before handing her a plate.

“This is lovely. Thank you,” she says with a raspy voice still trying to wake up. Terra has made herself scarce to give you guys a private moment which is very hard to come by when you live in a suite with four other girls.

“Happy one-years,” you smile leaning in to kiss her. You notice her confusion but she’s quick to cover it up.

“You too,” she says sitting up properly. You decide to ignore it and assume it’s just from waking up and being a little disorientated. You both munch away on the pancakes and you feed her a strawberry which does not go at all like in the movies where it’s seductive and sexy. Instead you both crack up having a laughing fit for five minutes.

“Thank you for this, baby. Really.” Musa gives you a quick peck and head for the showers. She stops at the door looking back at you.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks as if it’s the most obvious thing. You follow her enjoying much more than breakfast. Afterwards, you both head for classes but you meet up once you’re both free to talk a walk around the grounds. It’s the perfect day filled with all the couple stuff you always thought you hated. Meeting Musa had made you into quite the simp to be honest but you found that you didn’t mind it all that much. It was your first real relationship and the logic part of your brain knew the statistics but your heart was too filled with love for Musa. You couldn’t ever imagine not feeling this way about her. Which is also why it hurt so much when Musa started pulling away. You thought you’d done something to hurt her but whenever you asked she said she was fine.

“Have you noticed anything off about Musa lately?” you ask Terra one day. You’ve been sitting on Musa’s bed for the last hour waiting for her making casual conversation with Terra but you can’t keep it to yourself anymore. You have to get someone else’s opinion about it before you lose your mind.

“Off how?”

“What are you hiding?” you ask knowing her well enough to know that she only rearranges flowers when she’s nervous or has a secret to keep. You never thought Musa would talk to Terra before you but apparently a lot of things has changed these past few weeks. At your anniversary everything seemed fine but now you weren’t really sure of anything anymore.

“Me? I’m not hiding anything,” Terra nervously laughs confirming your theory.

“Terra, please. I just need to know that she’s okay.” You wish you could be having this conversation with Musa herself but she’s been AWOL all day.

“Please just talk to her,” Terra says and it’s clear she wants to stay well out of this but you’re not letting her go that easy.

“I’ve barely seen her for the past week. How am I supposed to talk to someone who’s avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” You spin around to find Musa in the doorway watching you and Terra. She drops her bag by the bed but doesn’t walk over to you.

“Can you give us a minute?” she asks and Terra makes a quick exit probably thankful she’s not going to be a part of what happens next. You keep quiet waiting for Musa to speak while Musa refuses to even look at you. How did you become strangers when you could’ve sworn you’ve never known anyone as intimately as you have Musa?

“I’ve just needed some space.” A brick falls onto your chest and crushes your heart. You’ve forgotten how to breathe. Is this what dying feels like? Even now you catch yourself trying to dim your feelings so as not to overload Musa even though she clearly hasn’t considered your feelings these past few weeks.

“What do you mean space?” you whisper scared your voice might break.

“Just that I’ve needed some time to be me,” she says but that’s not all. When Musa lies, she always taps her left hand with her right index finger. You first noticed it when she would lie to Terra and say she loved all the plants.

“Tell me the truth,” you plead, “did I do something to push you away?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then how is it?! Because all I know is that I’ve been trying to pull you closer and you keep pushing me away.” You’ve been so busy worrying that something was wrong that you haven’t had time get upset. But now that you’re finally talking, you’re not about to be dismissed with a stupid excuse for what’s been going on.

“You’re suffocating me!” Her outburst shocks even her. You were wrong when you assumed the pain before was how it felt like to die. This is what is feels like. How do people survive heartbreaks? Is there a guide somewhere that can help you restart your heart?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Musa says wishing she could take it all back but that’s the thing about words. They hit like knives and once they’re lodged in a person’s heart, you can’t remove them. You close your eyes feeling memory after memory hit you. Musa and you giggling as you watch Stella change into yet another of her “famous outfits”. Late night phone calls over the summer when you went to stay with your parents. That time you stole a bottle of wine and stayed out all night watching the sunrise.

“I don’t get it. When did my love for you start to suffocate you?” Don’t cry, don’t cry, you repeat over and over not wanting to give into your sobs just yet.

“It happened slowly. You’ve always been my safe place when everyone’s feelings became too much but then your feelings started to overcloud my own. And I just had to get away from it.”

“So I pushed you away by loving you too much, is that it?” You look over at Musa hurt to see that she looks just fine. When did she stop loving you?

“It just got too loud. I felt like I couldn’t breathe around you. And slowly my own feelings for you started fading.” She wants to make you understand it but you’re not ready to accept the fact that one day Musa woke up and decided she didn’t love you anymore.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You gather your things and walk right past her. You want to look back and see if she’s as upset as you are, but you already know the answer to that. When the sobs come this time, you don’t have any energy left to fight it.

#musa x reader #musa blurb #musa gif #musa imagine #winx musa #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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monotonous-minutia · 3 years

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Brief history of Les contes d’Hoffmann edits (the short short version) + Summaries!

Kudos to anyone who gets through all of this, but I recommend at least reading the first part if you plan on watching this opera next week for Operablr Pride Month. It will help you find/choose a version to watch!

For the differences in the summaries to make sense, we need a little background info.

The very very very short version of why there are so many edits:

Offenbach died before he could finish the score. Most of the prologue, Olympia, and Antonia acts were done; the Giulietta act and the Epilogue were not, which is why those are the parts that vary the most across the different edits. Additionally, much of the material that varies belongs to Nicklausse/the Muse. The reason for this is that the mezzo in this role cancelled last minute, and the replacement didn’t have time to learn the entire role before the performance, so the Muse monologues, Violin Aria, and much of Nicklausse’s dialogue were cut; the ending monologue was replaced with spoken speech. Since the premiere—which is another story for another time—several conductors, directors, and music scholars have attempted to reconstruct the opera based on Offenbach’s drafts and notes, and in some cases their personal preferences. Additional shoutout to good old Guiraud, who finished a lot of the orchestration that Offenbach didn’t get to, which is some of the only stuff to survive most edits.

Also, I should say: apparently in addition to there being no definitive edition of this opera, there’s no definitive history either. I swear every book/article I read about it says something different so this is the best I could do. So if there are any inaccuracies, apologies in advance.

Now there are a lot of people that have tinkered with this opera, but there are a few main ones that compiled what are dubbed “critical editions,” because they did a bunch of research and a lot of people end up using edits based on what they did.

In chronological order, those critical edits are:

Choudens: The shortest version, and one most people are familiar with.

Oeser (1): Longer with a lot of missing material added, also fairly well-known.

Oeser (2): Even longer with a ton of new stuff added! (My personal fave but pretty rare)

Kaye/Keck: Uses some of the material rediscovered by Oeser, but also adds a ton of other stuff, particularly in the Giulietta act, as well as re-orchestrating significant portions. Not many of these either.

and apparently there’s another one called “OG Offenbach” or something like that but as far as I can tell there haven’t been any recordings of it or much about what it looks like, but from what I gather it’s fairly similar to that last one, with some adjustments based on yet more new-old material discovered.

And, of course, every single production I’ve ever seen/heard puts its own spin on things! So while most have the general formats as seen below, literally no two are exactly alike.

A bit more detail on the versions:

Choudens

This is one of the first people to edit the material after it was butchered for the world premiere. It’s the short version of the opera with the most material missing, though to be fair he did improve upon what it had been before. His is (unfortunately) the edit most people are familiar with:

Prologue: Chorus of Spirits of wine and beer. Lindorf monologues about stealing Stella from Hoffmann. Students party in the tavern and ask Hoffmann to tell a stoy; he sings the famous "Ballad of Klein-Zach." When taunted by Lindorf about his love life, Hoffmann decides to tell everyone the tales of his Three Great Loves. Act I: Olympia. Hoffmann is in love with the “daughter” of Spalanzani, his science professor, unaware that she is a robot. Coppélius sells Hoffmann magic glasses that make him believe Olympia is a real human, despite Nicklausse's insistence that she is a mechanical doll. Olympia is presented to the guests at her coming-out party; they marvel over her. Hoffmann serenades her and dances with her, but Coppélius arrives to take her apart, and Hoffmann realizes he’s been in love with a robot the whole time. Act II: Giulietta. Choudens put the Giluietta act second instead of Antonia. At a party, Nicklausse and Giulietta sing the famous Barcarolle; Hoffmann counters with an aria about how love is futile. Nicklausse tries to warn Hoffmann to be careful of Giulietta's lover, Schlémil, but Hoffmann of course does not listen. Dapertutto arrives and makes a deal with Giulietta to trick Hoffmann. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann and steals his reflection. When Hoffmann realizes his reflection is gone, we get the famous Septet (the only thing I’m grateful to Choudens for). Afterwards, Hoffmann kills Schlémil to get the key to Giulietta’s room, but Giulietta leaves with Pitichinaccio instead. Act III: Antonia. The singer Antonia is sick and it’s her singing that is killing her. Hoffmann, who’s been looking for her for months after Antonia and her father moved specifically so he couldn’t find them, has finally found her. They promise to run away and get married, but before they can, Dr. Miracle forces Antonia to sing until she literally dies. Epilogue: Hoffmann has finished his stories. Nicklausse makes the connection that all three ladies are actually metaphors for the real-life Stella. Hoffmann yells at him. Stella walks in on a drunk Hoffmann who mistakes her for his lovers; she leaves in a huff with Lindorf. Nicklausse reveals his identity as the Muse (in spoken dialogue) and asks for Hoffmann’s devotion. Hoffmann gets a reprise of his Giulietta act aria, but this time committing himself to the Muse and his art.

Oeser (1)

This one, which is also very common, isn’t Oeser’s *actual* edit but combines his with the Choudens one, so it has a lot more material than the previous one, but not as much as the longer Oeser version.

Prologue: Very similar to Choudens except we get the Muse’s opening monologue explaining their motivations (winning Hoffmann and saving him from Stella) before the rest of the action. Act I: Olympia. Pretty much the same but sometimes Nicklausse gets a different aria. Act II: Antonia (which here comes before Giulietta). Almost exactly the same as Choudens’, but Nicklausse gets to sing a lovely aria about love and art which is really a love song for Hoffmann. Act III: Giulietta. Pretty much the same, except it’s the third act instead of the second act. Epilogue: Starts pretty much the same, until the Hoffmann/Stella confrontation which is now put to music. Then we get a reprise of Klein-Zach followed by the drinking chorus, after which the Muse reappears. The opera ends with the Muse’s closing monologue and chorus about how Hoffmann’s suffering will make him a greater artist.

Oeser (2)

Pretty similar to the short Oeser version described above. The most dramatic changes are really just in the Giulietta act, though there’s some extra material in Olympia too (that one waltzy duet I’m always gushing about) and sometimes more sung material for the Muse in the epilogue as well. Oeser’s longer Giluietta act: Has the same basic plot points, except instead of going right from Dapertutto making the deal with Giulietta to Giulietta seducing Hoffmann, we get a gambling scene where Giulietta serenades the guests as they play cards, during which each of the characters gets a little moment. Then Giulietta leaves and Hoffmann follows her, and she sings sadly about her dismal situation which leads into her seduction of Hoffmann, and the rest of the act ends pretty much the same, except sometimes there’s no Septet.

Now, on to possibly the wildest of them all:

Kaye/Kecke

This one is rare; there’s only a few recordings that even attempt it, and very few get it to the letter of what these two scholars compiled. Once again, most of the changes are in the Giulietta act and Epilogue; the only real changes in the previous acts are in the orchestration of some parts. Kaye Giulietta Act: Starts pretty much the same, with the Barcarolle and Hoffmann’s derisive aria, and Dapertutto making the deal with Giulietta. We get a gambling scene here too, but it’s not as long or dramatic and Giulietta gets a different aria. Hoffmann kills Schlémil for the same reasons, but it happens before Giulietta steals his reflection; essentially she’s bribing him before she pretends to fall in love with him. Hoffmann gets in trouble for killing Schlémil, and in a fit of rage tries to kill Giulietta, but kills Pitichinaccio instead. Kaye Epilogue: It starts with a chorus for the students kinda trying to talk Hoffmann down from his crazy stories. We get the same Nicklausse-Hoffmann confrontation, and the one with Stella, and a reprise of Klein-Zach, but in addition to the drinking chorus repeating we get a kind of ominous reprise of the “Glou! Glou!” chorus from the prologue, after which the Muse enters and we get the same ending monologue but it’s got some extra pieces.

So the short short version ended up pretty long huh? Anyway, I hope it's helpful!

If you want more detailed summaries to follow along with when you watch the opera, see below!

More detailed summaries!

Choudens

Choudens is one of the the first critical edits of the opera and, despite the fact that it’s been discredited multiple times, is still inexplicably used a lot and is what a lot of people think of when they think of this opera.

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with his friend Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the song, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia. Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird. Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric saleman, enters and displays his various wares, including a variety of contraptions but primarily eyes. He manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalazani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for what she truly is and is

humiliated. Act II: Giulietta (Choudens is the only edit that has Giulietta second instead of third) Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) After Hoffmann and Nicklausse leave to play cards with the others, the Captain Dapertutto comes in, announcing he plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He attracts the courtesan with a diamond (and a deceptively pretty aria) and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. Hoffmann returns and Dapertutto leaves. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann, who serenades her with a fairly famous aria that gets reprised later for a different reason (keep an eye out for that). Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Giulietta tells Hoffmann that Schlémil has the key to her room, and if Hoffmann can retrieve it, she’ll meet him there later. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or "Sextet and Chorus"). Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Act III: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to find Antonia for him. When the servant leaves to do so, Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that

Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him

two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann, only to find him dead drunk. He mistakes her for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. The students all leave and Hoffmann is alone with Nicklausse, who reveals himself to be the Muse of Poetry. The Muse declares her devotion to Hoffmann and asks for his in return. Hoffmann, hearing this, repeats his song from the Giulietta act, this time declaring his love for the Muse and promising to return to his art.

Oeser (1)

The short Oeser version is the other Most Commonly Seen edit (I think it’s about a tie). It's similar to the Choudens edit in many ways, with some significant additions, which are in blue below: Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. They leave to

join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia (When Oeser made his edit, he rearranged the acts to their original order, placing Antonia before Giulietta.) Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a

party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) After Hoffmann and Nicklausse leave to play cards with the others, the Captain Dapertutto comes in, announcing he plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He attracts the courtesan with a diamond (and a deceptively pretty aria) and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. Hoffmann returns and Dapertutto leaves. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann, who serenades her with a fairly famous aria. Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Giulietta tells Hoffmann that Schlémil has the key to her room, and if Hoffmann can retrieve it, she’ll meet him there later. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or Sextet and Chorus). Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Nicklausse exits, telling Hoffmann it’s time for him to choose. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse, serenading Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but will make him an even greater artist.

Oeser (2)

The long Oeser version (my personal favorite) follows the short one fairly closely; most of the major revisions are in the Giulietta act. This one is pretty rare—I’ve only found one video (which is a terrible production unfortunately) and one audio recording (which is the greatest audio recording of this opera that currently exists). New material in green text:

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner, tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. Then we get my beloved little waltzy duet where Nicklausse invites Hoffmann back to the party and Hoffmann denounces cynics who disbelieve the power of love. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius

enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance.

Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) As if summoned, the Captain Dapertutto arrives and introduces himself, ominously revealing that he knows who Hoffmann is as well, and in general just acts creepy. Hoffmann and Nicklausse warily leave him behind and go to join the others playing cards. Once they’re gone, Dapertutto announces his plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He sings a diablical aria and attracts the courtesan with a diamond, and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. She and Dapertutto join the card players. Hoffmann is losing miserably, much to Nicklausse’s chagrin. Giulietta serenades the guests with a song about love, not-so-subtly aimed at Hoffmann. We get a pretty epic chorus as the game goes on. [Sometimes we also get and aria from Schlémil about having lost his shadow.] Giulietta leaves and Hoffmann follows her, giving Nicklausse his cards and asking him to finish the game for him. Nicklausse protests and tries to follow Hoffmann, but Dapertutto holds him back. Hoffmann joins Giulietta in her room. Giulietta despairs over her feeling of being trapped and suffering. Nicklausse comes in and tells Hoffmann to get ready to leave and that he’s coming back for him. He leaves, and Giulietta tells Hoffmann he should as well, but he refuses to leave her. Giulietta tells him to steal the key from Schlémil that he uses to lock her up at night, saying if he does so, she will devote herself to him. Hoffmann agrees to do so and sings his aria. Knowing she has him on the hook, Giulietta demands his fidelity—and his reflection. Helpless against her charms, Hoffmann agrees to both. Schlémil, Dapertutto, and Nicklausse return. Dapertutto taunts Hoffmann, who looks in a mirror to find that his reflection is gone. Nicklausse begs him to leave but Hoffmann refuses, still clinging to the hope that Giulietta actually loves him. However she only mocks him, and he despairs, starting everyone off in the famous Septet (or Sextet and Chorus) [sometimes the Septet is left out in longer Oeser edits]. Giulietta leads everyone back to the party, except Schlémil, who challenges Hoffmann to a duel. Hoffmann kills Schlémil and takes the key. He rushes to find Giulietta, only to see her riding off in a gondola with her real lover, Piticchinaccio, both of whom are laughing at his expense. Nicklausse tells Hoffmann the police are coming to look for Schlémil’s murderer, and finally drags him away. Epilogue Back at the tavern, Hoffmann finishes his tales. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down, then deliriously leads a reprise of the drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Nicklausse exits, telling Hoffmann it’s time for him to choose. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse. She declares her love and devotion for Hoffmann and asks for his in return. She calls upon the Spirits of Wine and Beer, who she says have aided her in her efforts; they repeat their chorus and disperse. The Muse serenades Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but

will make him an even greater

artist.

Kaye/Kecke

the Kaye/Kecke version is the most recent critical edition and hailed by many as the most definitive (aside from that “OG Offenbach” one I can’t find anything about). There are actually very few “true” Kaye productions out there, but a few that attempt it. A lot of the changes are just in the orchestration and, in the spoken-dialogue version, a lot of dialogue; the vast majority of the plot and action stay the same. The big differences are in the Giulietta act. Again, I’ll use some new-color text (orange) to indicate differences between this and previous editions.

Prologue We open in Luther's Tavern. A chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer sing out. The Muse emerges from a barrel, declaring her love for Hoffmann and determination to rid him of Stella, the “siren” who has stolen his attention (and affection). She tells the audience that she will disguise herself as Nicklausse, Hoffmann’s friend, in order to try one last time to win him tonight. The Councilor Lindorf comes in and bribes Andrès, a tavern employee, into giving him a letter from Stella, an actress, that’s addressed to Hoffmann. Lindorf reads the letter, in which Stella has included the key to her room and invites Hoffmann to join her after her performance that evening. Lindorf keeps the letter and key for himself. A group of students arrive in the tavern and sing a rousing drinking chorus. After a bit they notice Hoffmann isn’t there yet and demand to know where he is. Luther, the tavern's owner tells them Hoffmann is on his way, along with Nicklausse. The pair enter and take a seat. Hoffmann is melancholy and brooding, which prompts the students to ask him for a jovial song to lighten the mood. Hoffmann then sings the famous “Ballad of Klein-Zach.” But in the middle of the song, he gets distracted by memories of Stella. The students bring him back to reality and he finishes the sing, but the talk of love brings it up as a topic of conversation. Hoffmann declares “The devil take me if I were ever to fall in love!” At this point Lindorf makes his presence known, sneering at Hoffmann. The two of them then get into a battle of words, during which Hoffmann inadvertently admits that he is, in fact, in love with someone. Curious, the students ask him for the story of his love. Hoffmann declares that he has had not one but three mistresses: an artist, a young girl, and a courtesan. He then begins to tell his tales. Act I: Olympia Hoffmann goes to visit his science professor, Spalanzani, to declare his devotion to science. Spalanzani commends him, then leaves to prepare for his “daughter” Olympia’s coming-out party. Hoffmann admits his love for Olympia and gazes at her through a window. Nicklausse arrives and gently teases him about his love, singing a song about a mechanical doll and bird (sometimes it’s changed to a more mocking song specifically referencing Olympia). (also he sometimes mockingly serenades Olympia before his other aria.) Hoffmann brushes him off. Coppélius, an eccentric salesman, enters and attempts to sell Hoffmann and Nicklausse a variety or contraptions; Hoffmann and Nicklausse bicker over whether or not to engage with the salesman. Coppélius manages to get Hoffmann interested in a pair of magical glasses, which Hoffmann then purchases and wears for the remainder of the act. Spalanzani returns and gets into an argument with Coppélius about Olympia; Coppélius wants a share since she has his eyes. Spalanzani decides to pay Coppélius with a check that he mentions in an aside he knows will bounce. Coppélius tells Spalanzani that he should get Hoffmann to marry Olympia as a joke. Spalanzani agrees, and Coppélius leaves. Cochenille, Spalanzani's assistant, announces the arrival of the guests. A chorus of people arrive, admiring Spalanzani’s skills as a host. Spalanzani introduces Olympia to the guests, who marvel over her perfection. Olympia sings a charming songs about birds and love. Hoffmann's new glasses make him see Olympia as a real person rather than the robot she actually is, and he is captivated. After Olympia’s song, the guests leave to go to dinner, but Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to stay behind with Olympia. Hoffmann professes his love for Olympia, who responds only with “Yes” when Hoffmann touches her shoulder (he doesn’t know he’s actually triggering a button that makes her say that word). When he goes to embrace her, Olympia runs off. Nicklausse returns, telling Hoffmann to be wary, because everything is not as it seems; Hoffmann brushes him off yet again. Then we get my beloved little waltzy duet where Nicklausse invites Hoffmann back to the party and Hoffmann denounces cynics who disbelieve

the power of love. They leave to join the other guests. Coppélius enters, furious with Spalanzani for giving him a faulty check. He swears revenge and runs off. The guests return for dancing. Spalanzani asks Hoffmann to dance with Olympia. During the dance, Olympia goes haywire and rushes offstage, pursued by Cochenille. In the process, Hoffmann’s glasses are broken. Cochenille rushes back onstage, crying out that Coppélius has Olympia; Spalanzani rushes to her aid, only to find Coppélius with the robot in pieces. They return holding parts of the broken doll, and Hoffmann, his magical glasses now broken, finally sees Olympia for who she truly is and is humiliated. Act II: Antonia Crespel’s house. Antonia laments the death of her mother and her separation from her lover, Hoffmann. Her father, Crespel, enters and reminds her not to sing, lest she die from it like her mother did. Antonia promises him she won’t sing anymore and leaves sadly. Crespel asks his servant Frantz to watch the door and make sure no one comes in. Frantz, who is partially deaf, only half-understands him. Crespel expresses frustration at this and leaves. Frantz remarks in a fun little number that if only he had some talents—like singing or dancing—maybe his boss would appreciate him more. Hoffmann enters with Nicklausse; they have been travelling for weeks looking for Antonia after she moved away without a word. Hoffmann asks Frantz to go find Antonia for him. While Hoffmann expresses his joy over being reunited with Antonia, Nicklausse tries to temper his excitement with a reality check, which Hoffmann brushes off (he does this a lot). Nicklausse then sings a lovely song about the power of art and love (which is really a love song for Hoffmann), but once again Hoffmann ignores him. Hoffmann begins to sing a song that he and Antonia wrote. Antonia hears him and rushes to meet him; Nicklausse exits quietly. Hoffmann and Antonia rejoice over their reunion and pledge to get married. Hoffmann expresses concern over Antonia’s insistence to sing despite her ill health. Antonia convinces him to sing their song together, which they do. Afterwards Antonia becomes tired. Before Hoffmann can react, they hear Crespel coming. Antonia flees, but Hoffmann remains, hiding so he can eavesdrop on Crespel. Frantz returns and tells Crespel that Dr. Miracle is here, having misunderstood Crespel’s command to not let anyone in. Dr. Miracle enters, asking to see Antonia. Crespel refuses and tells him to leave, saying that his faulty medicine is what killed Antonia's mother. Dr. Miracle, however, remains, and pantomimes an interaction with Antonia where he checks her pulse and orders her to sing. Offstage, Antonia responds with a scale. Dr. Miracle tells Crespel that Antonia is dangerously ill, and gives him two vials of medicine that he says will cure her. Crespel refuses them, calling the doctor a murderer and chasing him out. Hoffmann comes out of hiding, stunned by this encounter. Antonia returns and asks Hoffmann what her father said, thinking that he and Hoffmann had been talking this entire time. Hoffmann, disturbed by what he’s seen and heard, makes Antonia promise not to sing. She agrees, but when Hoffmann leaves (promising to return for her later) she laments that Hoffmann is now on her father’s side about her singing. Dr. Miracle returns as a disembodied voice, taunting Antonia. Why should she give up singing just because her father and Hoffmann tell her to? Doesn’t she want to be a great singer like her mother? When Antonia rebuffs him, Dr. Miracle calls on the spirit of Antonia’s dead mother, who leads Antonia in a frantic refrain. Antonia, exhausted by the singing, collapses. Crespel rushes in to see his daughter dying on the floor. She tells him she sees her mother, then sings a part of her and Hoffmann’s song, before dying in her father’s arms. Hoffmann rushes in just in time to see Dr. Miracle pronounce Antonia dead. Act III: Giulietta Venice. The courtesan Giulietta is having a party of sorts. She and Nicklausse sing the famous Barcarolle. Afterwards

Hoffmann mocks them with a song of his own condemning love and romance. Schlémil, who is in love with Giulietta, enters and makes it clear he is suspicious of Hoffmann when Giulietta introduces him. Giulietta then leads her guests out to play cards. Hoffmann is about to follow when Nicklausse takes him aside, warning him against Giulietta and asking him to leave. Hoffmann says there’s no way he could fall for someone like Giulietta, and if he does, may the devil take him! (He really needs to stop saying that.) As if summoned, the Captain Dapertutto arrives and introduces himself, ominously revealing that he knows who Hoffmann is as well, and in general just acts creepy. Hoffmann and Nicklausse warily leave him behind and go to join the others playing cards. Once they’re gone, Dapertutto announces his plans to thwart Hoffmann with the help of Giulietta. He sings a diabolical aria and attracts the courtesan with a diamond, and tells her she needs to steal Hoffmann’s reflection for him. Giulietta agrees to do so in exchange for the diamond. (Here’s where the plot deviates, and the Oeser parts from earlier don’t appear at all.) The guests return looking for Giulietta, who sings a song for them as they play cards. Hoffmann gets distracted by Giulietta and gives Nicklausse his cards. Giulietta seduces Hoffmann and convinces him to duel Schlémil to get the key to her bedroom. Hoffmann does and kills Schlémil. Nicklausse finds Hoffmann and, learning about the duel, begs Hoffmann to leave with him. Hoffmann refuses, wanting to see Giulietta. Nicklausse leaves to find a means of transportation. Giulietta returns and continues to seduce Hoffmann, who falls for her completely. She asks for his reflection as a keepsake; he’s helpless to resist her. Dapertutto returns; Giulietta relinquishes Hoffmann to him. Nicklausse returns as well, in time to find Hoffmann has lost his reflection. Once again he begs Hoffmann to leave, but Hoffmann refuses, still insistent that Giulietta loves him. The chorus returns, mocking Hoffmann for being duped. The police arrive to arrest Schlémil’s killer. Furious, Hoffmann attempts to stab Giulietta, but misses and kills Pitichinaccio, who is revealed to be her real lover. Giulietta despairs over his body, and Nicklausse finally manages to drag Hoffmann away. (There is no Septet in Kaye edits.) Epilogue Back at the tavern, the students sing a disbelieving chorus as Hoffmann finishes his tales, telling him to come back to reality. Offstage, cheers and applause are heard for Stella as her performance comes to an end. Nicklausse announces a revelation—all of Hoffmann’s lovers in his stories are just manifestations of his real love for a single woman, Stella. Furious, Hoffmann shouts Nicklausse down. He then encourages everyone (including himself) to get blackout drunk. The chorus of the Spirits of Wine and Beer from the prologue returns, creepily overlapping with the students’ drinking chorus. Stella enters looking for Hoffmann. Hoffmann drunkenly mistakes Stella for his three fictional loves, then rejects her. Offended, Stella leaves with Lindorf. Hoffmann begins to sing his Klein-Zach song, mockingly dedicating it to Lindorf, before falling in despair. The students exit the tavern, singing their song once again and leaving Hoffmann alone. (Sometimes Stella gets an aria here, basically telling Hoffmann “you don’t know what you’re missing by rejecting me.”) Nicklausse returns and reveals his identity as the Muse. She declares her love and devotion for Hoffmann and asks for his in return. The Muse serenades Hoffmann with a comforting refrain: love makes a man great, but tears make him greater still—his suffering is not in vain, but will make him an even greater artist. (Sometimes the final chorus is extended, with comments from the other characters announcing that the future is his.)

And there you have it!

As mentioned before, there are a ton of variations on all of these. Choudens edits and short Oeser edits are often very similar, but even they will have random chunks cut here and there, sometimes move things around, and of course it’s always a toss-up which aria Niclausse is going to get in Act I and if he’ll get the Violin Aria.

If you got to the end of this, kudos. Seriously. I could barely make it through, and I elected to write the thing.

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard

Part 1

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: The Losers head to Mexico for Pooch’s wedding but there’s something wrong with Stella…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst.

A/N: So this chapter is a LONG one- so it’s split into a number of parts, to be posted over the next week or so. A LOT going down, and we really hope you enjoy it as it’s our favourite one to date for these pair of dumbasses.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

April 2008

Clay, Roque, Cougar and Jake arrived in Mexico on a glorious Thursday morning, two days before Pooch's wedding and wasted no time in settling into their hotel and kicking back with a few drinks, soaking up the sun and taking the chance to relax. Cougar was in his element, being in his native country and an area which he knew particularly well. That evening he took them away from the resort of Cozumel to a little village fifteen miles or so inland where they visited a few back alley bars he knew, meeting up with a couple of his friends. The Losers then found themselves roped into several games of poker, all of them losing a fairly substantial amount of money until Clay, rather sensibly, called time on the gambling to avoid Future Mrs Pooch going thermonuclear at them for gambling away any future Mini Pooches’ inheritance money. They somehow made it back to the hotel and managed to deliver Pooch safely to his intended. The man could hardly stand by the time they got back thanks to the copious amount of Tequila he had consumed, something Clay, Roque and Jensen were quick to blame on Cougar when an irate Jolene opened the door to their suite, a furious look on her face.

As it stood, the hangovers they were all suffering on Friday morning were clearly their penance for leading Pooch astray. Jake had woken up with a mouth like he had been eating sand, and had stood in a cold shower for fifteen minutes solid trying to find it in him to function like a normal human being. He headed down for breakfast ten minutes before the hotel was due to stop serving and spotted Clay, Cougar and Roque sat at a table on the outside balcony, all sporting sunglasses and looking as bad as he felt. Jensen helped himself to as much as his plate could handle from the buffet and tucked in. He was beyond thankful that the food went someway to actually settling his churning stomach as opposed to making it worse. As he downed his fourth orange juice of the morning, he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out, his lips quirking into a smile as he read the message.

"It's Stel." He announced to the table. "She says ETA about forty minutes."

"How come she isn't here already?" Roque asked and Jensen rolled his eyes.

"Agent Shit-name was working, apparently. Meant they could only fly out early this morning." He swallowed the bite of toast he had rather viciously taken at the thought of Stel’s asshat boyfriend.

"Touchy subject." Clay looked at Roque. "Pooch is still low-key pissed she missed his Batchelor party."

Roque said nothing, simply raised his eyebrows as Jensen leaned back in his chair, massaging his now full stomach. "The guy is a dick." He spat venomously.

"Yes, but there's gonna be no trouble." Cougar turned to him, tipping his hat up slightly so he could see him.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter, Cougs." Jensen grinned and Cougar gave a snort, shaking his head.

They finished breakfast and after several more coffees were eventually ushered out of the restaurant by a very harassed looking waiter. As they wandered back through the hotel lobby, Clay stopped and waved, causing Jensen to turn and look, a smile spreading across his face as he saw Stella walking through the door pulling her suitcase. He frowned at the fact asshole wasn’t carrying it for her, but as Stella approached them he realised that Evan was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s agent Shit-Name?” He blurted out by way of greeting, and Stella responded with a filthy glare, otherwise ignoring him completely. She turned instead to greet Roque and Cougar before she gave Clay a huge hug.

“Good flight, Arty?” Roque asked and she smiled at him, popping a shoulder.

“As good as it gets. But they didn’t have tomato juice. Would you believe it?”

Clay gave a huge laugh. “Since when have you drunk that stuff?”

“It’s not that bad, plus if you drink alcohol on a plane you get severe dehydration.” She replied.

“You’re making that up.” Jake looked at her and she turned her attention to him, giving him an appraising look.

“I read it in Science.” She quipped back. Jake blinked, before he burst out laughing and she grinned and shook her head. “I’m just joking. I had several gin and tonics and glass of wine. I’m good.”

Roque looked at Clay. “What just happened?”

“They do this.” Clay answered. “Have you not noticed yet?”

Roque rolled his eyes and then Cougar asked the question that all of them had been dying to know the answer to. “Where’s Evan?”

Well, all bar Jake that is as he couldn’t have cared less.

Stella shifted a little, rubbing her neck, Jake instantly spotting her discomfort. “He errr, he couldn’t make it.”

“He bailed on you?” Roque frowned at the same time Clay blurted out.

“What do you mean he couldn’t make it?”

Stella licked her lips and at that point Jensen jumped in. He could see her flustered and despite his dislike of her boyfriend, he hated seeing her like that so he offered her a way out. “Work?”

She nodded, shooting him a thankful look. “Yeah, something came up.”

“Of course it came up.” Clay grumbled loudly. Whether he had meant for Stella to hear or not, hear she did. And what was more, it was apparent he didn’t believe Evan’s excuse any more than she did. Stella swallowed, she had always trusted Clay’s judgement and it was unnerving a little to realise exactly what he thought.

She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go check in.” As she reached for her bag, a hand softly batted hers away as Jensen grabbed the handle.

“I got it.”

As soon as the two of them were out of earshot, Cougar turned to Clay as Roque shook his head

“Bastard.” Clay spat. “He’s not come and left her to pick up the flack and explain to Pooch.”

Cougs mumbled a swear word in Spanish as Clay’s eyes flicked to Stella and Jake before he pulled out his phone.

“’m gonna make some calls. Meet you at the pool bar in a while.”

*****

As they stood in the queue for the reception desk, a bunch of people all having descended to check in at once, Jake turned to Stella and took a deep breath. “Wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

“Nothing is going on, Jake.” Stella’s tone was level but firm, an indication she didn’t want to discuss the topic.

But Jensen never had been one to take heed of warnings. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you should.” She turned to face him, raising her brow a little. “Tell me, any Mexican chick fallen at your feet yet?”

He sighed, throwing his head back and giving a low groan. “C’mon, Stel, I thought we were past this?”

“Past what?” Her tone was innocent but Jake could tell she didn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead, she concentrated on searching for something in her purse.

“Holding out on one another.” He answered, looking at her. “You’re still my best friend.”

“Well, forgive me if I sometimes forget.” She rolled her eyes as she produced her credit card.

“Okay okay, you don’t wanna tell me then fine.” Jensen rubbed at his eye before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Whatever.”

Stella looked at him before she gave a little sigh, and hung her head slightly. “Ev’s busy, okay? Something last minute came up and he...”

“Let me guess.” Jake rolled his eyes. “He asked you not to come without him and when you told him to fuck off you had an argument.”

“No, actually.” Stella fixed him with a glare, narrowing her eyes “He told me to come. It’s nothing like that at all.”

“Stel...”

“Jake, just drop it okay!” Her voice grew louder. “You couldn’t be further away from the truth if you tried.”

Jensen raised his hands in surrender, knowing it was time to drop the subject. “All right, all right. I really don’t wanna know.”

Before she could shoot back a response, she was called forward to the desk. Jake moved off to the side with her bag, watching her as she spoke to the guy behind the counter.

His hands dropped to his slim hips as he studied her, wracking his brains. Despite her protestations there was obviously something more going on, he knew her too well. The only thing he could think of was that for some reason they’d had an argument, a big enough one for Agent Shit-Name to leave her to come on her own. And, considering Jake knew he had told Stella to stay away from him, it must have been pretty serious for him to say he wasn’t coming.

As Jake watched Stella signing her name on the paper the guy behind the desk slid over to her, he saw her give a little smile before she tucked her hair behind her ear. He took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his thoughts and decided that he was going to make her forget about Asshole for a couple of days and enjoy herself. Being the Stel he’d always known and adored.

She nodded and said something to the receptionist before she turned towards Jake, heading over to him and he smiled. “All sorted?”

“Yeah I’m on the 4th floor

“Hey, cool! Same as me and Cougs.”

“Are you guys sharing?” She asked and he shook his head, giving a snort.

“Hell no. The Cougar is on the prowl, apparently. He’s a couple of rooms down.”

“Well I’m in 415.”

“422, Sweetheart.”

“Good to know in case I’m attacked by a spider in the middle of the night.” She grinned and Jake chuckled.

“Well, if you want I’ll do a sweep before you go in.” He looked at her seriously. “I am a highly trained killing machine after all.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah but I ain’t afraid of spiders... well, okay, not the little ones that is.”

Stella laughed. “Course not. But, that aside, I could use your help with my suitcase.”

“You don’t need to ask.” He said gently, picking it up. “I was already gonna bring it.”

She smiled and they made their way to the elevator which by some twist of luck was already on their floor. The door opens and they stepped inside, Stella turning to select their floor.

“Alright, I gotta ask.” Jake spoke and Stella turned to him as he gestured to the large case now by his feet. “You’re here for what, three nights? You bring your whole wardrobe, Stelly?”

She scoffed “I need all three nights’ outfits and daytime clothes as well. Toiletries, make up, underwear...bikinis.” At the last word she shot him a wink and Jake’s head dropped forward, his hands on his hips.

“Stop it.” He groaned playfully and she laughed.

“You don’t wanna hit the pool then, Jakey?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Why would it be?”

“Well this feels like the part where I’m supposed to make some rude comment only I’m not sure if you’ll laugh or slap me.”

“You’d never know if you don’t say it.”

Jake looked at her, he was utterly confused now and hadn’t got a clue what was going on. He licked his lips, swallowed before he sighed and rubbed his beard. Thankfully, he was saved from responding at all as the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open as they’d reached their floor.

****

Once the slightly awkward but friendly first time introductions to the rest of the guests that the boys had met the day before, Stell felt herself really beginning to relax. She had been on edge since arriving if truth be told, not least because her friends had hit the nail on the head, there was something going on with Evan. But, she didn't want to think about it. Not now. Instead, she settled herself on a sun-lounger, peeling off her little sun-dress to reveal a yellow bikini and Jake flopped onto the one besides her, whipping off his white wife-beater. They talked and laughed and joked. It felt good, just kicking back, not a care in the world. Soft, holiday themed music was playing, the atmosphere was happy, and Stella had a constant supply of cocktails thanks to the team persistently plying her with them.

She must have fallen asleep at one point, as when she turned Jake wasn't there, but it didn't take her long to find him, his distinctive laugh ringing out over the pool area. Stella led back in the sun, glasses covering her face, no one able to see her eyes as she watched him sat on the edge of the pool, one of the bridesmaids next to him, their legs dangling in the water. His broad shoulders and back muscles twitched as he talked with his hands, as usual, emphasising whatever it was he was saying, one large arm reaching up to brush through his short hair. The girl laughed and tipped her head back and Jake grinned before he said something else and stood up. Stella shifted a little as he headed towards her.

"Stel, you want another drink?"

She pulled her glasses down, and peered over them as she smiled up at him. "No, I'm fine JJ thanks."

"Cool, just, you know, ask me if you need anything."

"I’ll be fine Jake." She insisted. "Just enjoy yourself or... whatever."

He gave her a little smile before he turned and walked away. Stella watched him go, and it didn't escape her just how many heads turned in his direction. She took a deep breath then suddenly a shadow blocked her sun. She looked up to see Cougar stood beside her, hands on his hips, bright blue swim shorts and a plain grey tank covering his toned upper body.

"Enjoying the views, Arty?"

She rolled her eyes, then smirked at him as she spotted his ever present headwear. "Even round the pool you’re wearing the hat?" She sat up slightly, nodding towards it.

"Well it keeps the top of my head cool and shelters my eyes from the sun." He shrugged. "And helps maintain my youthful complexion."

"You gonna be wearing it for the wedding?" She grinned as he perched on the lounger next to her, before he led back over the top of Jake's towel, swinging his legs up to recline a little.

"Of course I am." He looked at her like she'd asked a dumbass question. "I’m making a fashion statement, Honey!"

At that she laughed. "Well, I look forward to seeing that!"

"I'll save you a front row seat!"

As the two of them continued to chat, over at a table a little further round the pool, Roque and Clay were sat deep in conversation. Pooch made his way over, flopping down heavily into a seat, shades covering his eyes.

“All right, so someone wanna tell me what happened to Shit-Name?” There was no disguising the bitterness in his tone. He was still pissed over the whole stag-do incident as Stella hadn’t gone, and the blame for that lay firmly at Evan’s feet. “Not that I care, in fact I’m glad not having to see him around but-“ he nodded to Stella “-well I don’t like her being upset.”

Clay took a deep breath and blew it out harshly. “So, I made some calls. Pulled some strings and…”

“What?” Roque took a pull from his beer and turned towards the Colonel. Clay simply shook his head and Roque rolled his eyes. “Spit it out, Clay.”

“The guy is not on duty this whole week.” Clay looked at him, and then to Pooch who pulled a face.

“The whole week? I thought she was flying in today because he had some work to finish before taking a couple of days off?”

“So did I.” Clay shrugged.

“So what? He’s been lying to stop her coming for more than absolutely necessary?” Roque frowned. “That is fucked up, Clay.”

“I don’t get it though.” Pooch shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why is he not here? If he’s so hell bent on keeping her away from us, well, specifically Jensen, why the fuck has he let her come on her own?”

“I don’t know.” Clay looked over at Stella before turning back. “But I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?”

The three of them turned to see Jensen stood by their table, pushing his shades up his nose a little.

“Your swimming trunks.” Roque was quick to quip. “Pink? Really?”

Jensen grinned “Gracie got me these! Special present for being her coolest Uncle.”

“Yeah, you see she’s six, Jensen.” Clay grinned, taking a drink of his beer. “Her taste is debatable.”

At that Pooch snorted. “And besides, man, you’re her only Uncle! Not like she has anyone else to compare you to.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen shot Pooch a look. “Fine, watch this.” He cleared his throat and looked over the pool area towards Stella. “Yo, Stel!” She glanced at him from where she was sat with Cougar and gestured with her head for him to continue speaking. “What you think of my shorts?” He gave a grin, twirling on the spot with his hands out to his side.

Stella arched a brow as she pulled down her glasses and looked over the top of them at him. “I’ve seen you in worse.” She called before she turned back to Cougar, a slight smile on her face.

Jake grinned and looked back at the men round the table, pointing in her direction. “See, that’s a compliment.”

“Yeah, by worse she means naked.” Pooch snorted. Roque and Clay both burst out laughing and the three of them clinked their beer bottles together.

“You can all laugh but let’s face it, none of you could pull off this colour.” Jake sniffed.

“Who says you’re pulling it off, Jensen?” Clay arched his eyebrow.

“Well, he’s gonna need to as no one else is gonna pull em off for him.” Roque sniggered.

“Well, actually, Jolene’s cousins have already asked if he was free.” Pooch raised an eyebrow.

“They blind?” Roque shot back as Jensen grinned, ignoring him.

“Really? Which ones?”

“You were sitting with one of them earlier.” Pooch informed him.

“Oh, the red headed chick?” Jensen glanced around, and his eyes once more fell on Stella who was now sat up, turned towards Cougar as they talked about something. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, she’s not really my type. In a bit fellas.” With that he slapped Pooch on the head and wandered over to join Cougar and Stella.

“We cannot tell him about Evan.” Roque stated as Jensen sat down on the sun lounger next to Stella, leaning back a little on his hands.

“Nope." Clay agreed.

“Absolutely not.” Pooch affirmed with a serious nod.

*****

Stella was in her room’s bathroom, leaning over the counter to check her mascara hadn’t left any unwelcome blotch around her eyelashes when there was a loud knock on the door followed by the two softer ones that, ever since they met all those years ago, announced Jake Jensen’s presence. She gave a last glance at her appearance on the mirror, adjusting the thin straps of her pale pink dress to her shoulders, before she went to open the door for him.

“Damn, Stel. You look amazing.”

It was all Jake could express when he recovered from the shock of seeing Stella all dolled up for the first time since what seemed like forever. Maybe the last time being when Jane and Rob got married and they were still together and waiting for their military training to be over. She looked stunning in that outfit and he couldn’t fail but to observe it was Stelly all over. Her pale pink dress was covered in delicate lace flowers and flowed down her curves, the deep v neckline doing nothing but highlighting her gorgeous breasts which Jake so damned well knew and had cherished once upon a time.

Fuck, his mouth was dry…

“Thanks JJ.” Stella chimed, making Jake blink and shake his head. “I need a quick minute…”

As she turned to go finish getting ready he followed her in, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you’re not gonna say anything about my slacks and this fancy waistcoat I’m wearing.” He asked opening his arms for her to take in his appearance which she did when she turned, looking him up and down. She took in his dark blue plaid tweed waistcoat, matching trousers, along with his pale blue and white striped dress shirt and matching tie and she grinned.

“No jacket?”

“Fuck that shit, Stel its too hot out!” He snorted. “I’m gonna boil to death enough tomorrow in my suit.”

Stella laughed, looking him up and down again before she took a deep breath. “You could almost pass as a grown up, Jake.”

He pouted though he was slightly amused at the comment as it clearly meant her brain had also taken her to the last time they both had worn such elegant outfits, as they had been basically babies then.

“Rude, Stel. You used to like this look on me when we were.... ummm.... did you change your perfume?” Jake suddenly asked in an attempt to change topic after almost sliding dangerously down memory lane.

“No it’s the same it’s been for years.” Stella rolled her eyes at him and turned to rummage in her make up bag.

“Yes. Right….” Jensen replied somewhat awkwardly but relieved she was busy with something else. “So Cougs is coming down with us, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She said as she finished putting her lip-gloss on before grabbing her sandals and sitting on her bed. “So like, is there a huge group of us tonight then?”

Jake stood there, his brain having a hard registering Stella’s question, his hands on his trouser pockets as he bounced on the balls of his feet and blushed furiously because, from where he was stood, as Stella was bent over doing her sandals up, he could see right down her dress and the line of her breasts. But when he finally did realise she’d spoken, he swallowed hard and tried to play it as cool as possible.

“I guess pretty much everyone invited who’s here already, it is a rehearsal dinner after all. Hey, did you know Clay’s chick is landing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning? Stella frowned. “Cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?” She asked standing up and readjusting her dress.

“Well, better late than never.” Jake muttered, more to himself than anything but Stella had clearly heard it as she was glaring at him.

“Don’t start.”

“Sorry, my bad.” Jensen raised the palms of his hands in surrender. But before he could continue apologizing there was another knock on the door. “That will be Cougs.” Jake took a hasty retreat as he went to open the door to Cougar who raised an eyebrow on seeing his friend’s flustered expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cougar.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Jensen?” Cougar whispered but then his eyes landed on Stella who was coming towards them and looked at Jensen again as he mouthed. “Wow.”

On an impulse Jake dug him in the ribs with his elbow which made Cougar shove him hard on the shoulder in turn just before Stella stopped by their side and looked at them. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“Playing tag.” Jensen blurted out.

Stella narrowed her eyes at him just as Cougar looked at him wondering what the fuck Jensen was dragging him into. Jensen gave him a look and Cougar rolled his eyes.

“I told him he’s buying the first round tonight and the jerk said he wouldn’t.” He turned to Stella, trying not to sound too eager or false.

Stella shrugged. “What else is new?”

“Hey, I’m not paying ‘cause it’s a free bar. All the rounds are on Pooch and future Mrs Pooch.” Jensen nodded lightly at Coug, rolling with it.

Stella grinned as they step out of the room and she shut the door. “Well boys, ” she linked her arms into theirs as they were at either side of her, “in that case let’s see how drunk we can go get for free.”

Jakey and Cougar both cheered loudly at the idea and she laughed heartily.

“And you’re walking into the party escorted by two of the most eligible bachelors in this resort, Sweetheart.” Jensen added cheekily.

“Yeah?” She asked as she called the lift and Jensen saw her eyes shine with mischief before speaking again. “You taking me to meet them? Are they downstairs?”

Cougar snorted but Jake wasn’t gonna let it die there. That was the playful Stella he so adored, his Stelly. They could go on at this type of banter for hours if they were in the mood.

“Face facts, I am desirable as Pooch told me before. Bridesmaids already asking for my number. How many asked for your number, Cougs?”

Cougar just smirked and tip the brim of his hat. “They only need my room number, you loser.”

At that Stella let out a huge laugh and the elevator arrived so she stepped in followed by Cougar, Jake behind them.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll give you that one.” Jensen admitted as the elevator doors closed and they headed down.

***

When they got to the big room where the rehearsal party was taking place, the bride and groom were already there greeting all their guests and Stella was immediately introduced to everyone in Jolene’s extended family who hadn’t been at the pool earlier that day. The drinks and conversations were flowing when the wedding planner, a woman with a thick Mexican accent, announced dinner was being served in a few minutes and politely asked them all to find their seats.

The Losers were set to share a table with Pooch’s brother and his girlfriend and a couple of Jolene’s bridesmaids who happened to be her cousins too. The food was delicious and by the time dessert had been served, Stel could swear her dress had shrunk in size but she was damned if she was going to say no to those sinful Tamales. The chocolate on her taste buds, together with all the tequila and cocktails they had consumed during the meal had her in good spirits. She could honestly say she was having a great time and was enjoying herself, only one thing casting a shadow over her jolly mood.

Jolene’s cousin Shanice, secretly renamed by Stella as Corpse Bridesmaid, who was sitting at Jake’s other side, insisted on flirting shamelessly with him, to the point it was embarrassing. So, when her piercing laughter at some of Jake’s shitty quips got everyone at their table startled, Stella shared a glance with Cougar who was sat at her other side and excused herself. Instead of going to the ladies restroom, she went outside, deciding some fresh air would do her good. She wandered out onto the beach a little and sat down breathing in deeply, taking in the peacefulness of the sea in front of her.

Her head was swimming but not just from alcohol. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was jealousy. She was jealous of Jake and Corpse Bridesmaid when she wasn’t supposed to be. Right? She wasn’t supposed to be and she didn’t like the feeling either.

And then there was Evan. She knew he was lying about having to work. He’d just used that as an excuse not to come to cover up the real core of the issue. Although he still insisted he was stuck at the office she knew he didn’t have to be there, and that evening, when they had talked on the phone, he had been cold and curt, their conversation mainly made of void questions and monosyllabic answers. Stella breathed in shakily at the memory of that conversation and pulled her phone out for the umpteenth time that night. No messages, no missed calls. Nothing. She sighed and chucked it back on her purse hastily.

“A watched phone never rings, Arty”

She hadn’t heard him approach, absorbed as she was in her own thoughts, but she made no effort to turn around as Cougar was already sitting on the sand next to her.

“Any luck with the blonde bridesmaid, Cougs?” She asked with a soft smile. “Maybe she’s the type that calls.”

“I told you before, I don’t need her to call, just knock.” He joked before turning his head to look at her, studying her features. “What’s going on Arty?”

“Nothing Cougs, just getting a little lightheaded in there.” Stella explained as she nodded her head towards the muffled voices of the party inside.

Cougar nodded. “And I’m assuming it’s not only because of the drinks.”

Stella didn’t reply, she simply looked away not trusting herself to say anything without her voice breaking.

“You know I won’t tell anyone, right? Especially not Jensen.”

Stella sighed and lowered her head as her hands fiddled with the flowers of her dress. “I don’t believe Ev is working. I think he was making excuses not to come.” She finally spoke, before lifting her eyes to meet Cougar’s.

“And why would he be making excuses not to come with you?” Cougar frowned. “I thought he always wanted to spend time with you. That’s why you haven’t been hanging out with us so much anymore, huh?”

Stella raised her eyebrows. “He does. We kinda had an argument about it, well, not really an argument just a discussion about him crowding me and stuff, how he acts about Jake and you guys... and he admitted he was a little full on but said it was because he loved me.”

“Oh, so he threw the big L word there. That’s good, right?” Cougar asked, looking at her confused and a bit concerned as she had looked somehow embarrassed to admit Evan had said he loved her.

Stella looked at him. “Not really Cougs, because when he said it I was paralyzed and then realized I couldn’t say it back.”

“Oh.” He grimaced. “That’s not so good.” He paused for a moment before he continued. “You don’t love him?”

Stella shrugged, feeling calmer now, almost relieved she had finally got it off her chest and shared it with someone. “I thought I was sorta getting there you know, told myself it would happen in time but we’re almost six months in now. And each week I can’t see beyond the next, there’s no long term view there for me, Cougs and…”

“That’s a hard no disguised as a not yet, Arty.” He observed when he noticed Stella was trailing off. And she didn’t reply but looked at the sand instead as there wasn’t really a suitable response to that, least of all because he was right, she knew that much.

“Come here.” Cougar sighed, waving his hand for her to get closer before wrapping an arm around her shoulder and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “What you gonna do about it?”

“Finish it I suppose. That’s the right thing to do isn’t it?” She answered as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess it’s certainly the most sensible thing to do, anyway.”

“Well I’m a very sensible person.” Stella chuckled causing Cougar to snort.

“You spent years dating Jensen, I beg to differ.”

“Not my most sensible time.” She quipped.

Cougar laughed, shaking his head in agreement, and when he looked down to watch her he saw she was looking at the sand again, only this time she was smiling as she was clearly remembering something about the time he spent with Jake.

“He still loves you, you know? Jensen I mean.”

Stella’s eyes darted up at him and she scoffed. “You’re insane, Coug? You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh I know exactly what I’m saying. And more so you know it’s true.” Cougar stated as he tipped the brim of his hat and winked at her.

****

“Fuck, no, no more!” Jensen waved his hand as Roque grinned widely and held his hands up cheering loudly as Jensen grimaced. Both men had spent the last thirty five minutes doing shots while being cheered, as could not be otherwise, by Corpse Bridesmaid.

“All right, all right, you win Roque. I’m out.” Jensen admitted defeat as he turned around, scanning the dance floor. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t spot Stella, granted he was a bit drunk but he really couldn’t see her anywhere in the room. So he stood up from his seat and blinked twice as everything was a little hazy.

“Hey Clay, you seen Stel?” He asked when he finally steadied himself, brushing his hand through his hair before he pushed his glasses back up his nose. They’d gotten a little too close to falling off whilst he’d been doing those damned shots.

“Nope, it’s been a while since I last saw her.” Clay replied, glancing up at him from where he was sat on his spot at their table talking to Pooch’s brother.

“She went outside a while back. Didn’t say goodbye so I assumed she was coming back but…” Jolene, who had come searching for her cousin, offered but then someone Jensen couldn’t quite place tapped her shoulder so she turned round to talk to them and they left together a few seconds later, leaving him a little puzzled, without answers.

“Okay, I’ll go find her myself. You guys are useless.” He sniffed as he loosened his tie and turned to leave.

Clay rolled his eyes and looked at Roque who shook his head and snorted. “Whatever Jensen, just keep an eye on that tie. Too loose and you’ll lose it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jensen.” Clay warned him, earning a frown from Pooch’s brother and causing Jensen to stop in his tracks.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He asked, turning to look at Clay.

“It means you’ve drunk a lot with Roque and she’s got a boyfriend who is clearly making her upset.”

“I’m fine I…” Jensen began to protest but he immediately paused as Clay’s words registered. “Hang on, what do you mean Shit-Name is making her upset?” He frowned as Clay groaned, realizing he had said too much “Do you know something?”

“Well he’s not here, isn’t he? That should be enough.” Clay tried to brush it off.

Jensen looked at him for a moment before he turned and left the room, contemplating what Clay had just said. Despite the colonel’s attempt to brush it off as an innocent comment, he had once more raised the point that Shit-Name wasn’t here, and none of them really knew why. There was also the fact that Stella had been uncharacteristically flirty with Jake that day, more than their usual good natured quips…was it possible they had split up? But, if they had, surely she would have told him right? But then again, maybe she wouldn’t have told him, not wanting to cloud Pooch’s big weekend with her issues?

The thought was enough to make Jake grin, but the grin disappeared as fast as it had come and he couldn’t help but groan at this train of thought. Nothing would make him happier than that dick to be gone for good but he also didn’t want Stella to be upset and heartbroken. That was part of the reason that, despite his vow on New Years’ Eve to Clay in his parent’s dining room about fighting for her, he’d really tried to behave. He’d watched as her and Evan had gone from, what appeared to be, strength to strength, and, if he had to be honest, he was just grateful they were on good terms and wouldn’t want to jinx his recently fixed friendship with his Stelly for all the gold in the world. Plus, he just wanted her to be happy, she deserved that at least. And, until now, he thought that Agent Shit-Name was making her so…

All those noisy thoughts were clouding his alcohol intoxicated head when he finally made it outside after a quick stop at the restroom. As soon as Jensen’s feet landed on the soft beach sand, he spotted Stella in the distance but she wasn’t alone as Cougar was sitting next to her on the sand with his arm round her.

“What the fuck, Cougs?” He whispered to himself, his jaw twitching a little. “Seriously, you’re going there?”

Both figures wheeled round and looked at him as he drew closer, his constant groans about tripping over on the sand alerting them to his presence. And when they did turn, Jake could see Stella had been crying.

“Stel, what’s going on?” He asked her softly.

Stella hastily wiped her tears and sniffed before speaking. “Nothing, I’m fine. It’s just….” She trailed off as she looked at Cougar with pleading eyes.

“I was telling her stories of my childhood here in Mexico.” Cougar looked at Jake.

“Yeah…” Stella nodded eagerly. “… and it just got me thinking a bit of dad and stuff.”

Jensen glared at Cougar as he squatted beside them both, not for a minute believing the bullshit he had come up with, but then Cougar shot him a look and shook his head gently. Jensen’s frown deepened a little, before he looked at Stella who was now watching the ocean again. He knew she was lying, she had been lying about Evan and about them being fine since she had landed in Mexico that morning, but he also knew now, from Cougs, it wasn’t what his tequila mushed brain had thought some minutes earlier.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed all that to the back of his mind and fixed a smile on his face.

“Well, Stelly, I think the only thing to do here is come dance your sorrows away.” He tried to lighten the mood up a bit as he knew his Stelly had always loved dancing.

She looked at him like he was a moron before she burst out laughing and he shot her a cheeky grin.

“Yasss, come on, Sweetheart.” He pressed as he stood up, helping her up in the process and once they both were standing on their feet Jensen turned around and bent a little. “Jump up! We’re going dancing.”

“You’re not carrying me, moron!” She shook her head as he turned to look at her. “And it’s just one. I had an early morning and I need some rest.” She bent slightly, brushing the sand off her dress, giving Jensen another front row view of her cleavage line and without even looking at him, he nudged Cougar to stop him staring, sending the man sprawling over onto the sand, a string of Mexican expletives escaping his mouth.

“That’s my Stelly.” Jake grinned and she took his hand as she put her sandals back on before Jensen dipped and slung her over his shoulder.

“JJ put me down you ass!” Stella squealed.

“No can do Stel, don’t trust you not to run.” He said amidst laughter.

“Don’t mind me…” Cougar quipped as he remained sprawled on the sand.

“We won’t.” Jensen shot back as he strode up the beach to the bar with Stella over his shoulder, laughing as she slapped his back.

“Jake my boobs are gonna fall out of my dress!” She shouted, slapping his back harder once they were almost reaching the sliding doors that led to the room where the party after the dinner was now in full swing.

“I see no issue with that.”

“God, you’re a dick!” Stella scoffed and Jensen chuckled, eventually putting her down on the bar and looking at her chest. “Hey, my face is up here.”

“I was just… erm…” Jensen gave a goofy smile as he made a grabbing hand gesture in front of her boobs “…checking the twins are still in place and you’re good.”

Stella rolled her eyes at him as she rearranged her dress. “Pervert.”

All in all, and as Jensen had expected, Stella stayed for a little more than one song as she was letting herself go and forget everything. The pair of them just enjoyed themselves, and it was almost as if no time at all had passed, and they were still at some sort of crummy, homecoming or end of year dance at their school’s over decorated sports hall.

Just as they were winding down a rather energetic dance to some form of Nineties dance song, the name of which, Jensen had no idea, Pooch cut the music and stepped up to thank everyone for coming, before he started talking rather drunken and lovingly about Jolene. As Roque and Clay began to heckle, telling him to save the mushy ‘I love yous’ for tomorrow, Stella zoned out a little, thinking about what Cougar had said earlier at the beach. If she was honest, whilst she’d been able to push it away for large chunks of time as she’d been dancing, it had been in the back of her mind all night. Because Cougar had hit the nail on the head, she didn’t love Evan, she didn’t think she ever would, and she couldn’t keep fooling herself. She needed to finish it.

Almost as if he had read her mind, she felt Jake gently take her hand and give it a squeeze and that was it. It all became too much to handle again, and she turned to him giving him a shy smile.

“I’m gonna go Jake, I really am tired.”

Just as she had anticipated, he tried to get her to stay but she refused, declining his offer to walk her back up to her room. She kissed his cheek softly, gave him a smile, and headed off to say goodnight to everyone.

***** Jensen watched her go before dropping his head in defeat. He took a deep sigh, hands on his hips, before Cougar appeared at his side, thrusting a beer he hadn’t even asked for into his hand.

“Thanks.” Jensen whispered, taking a large swig as he studied Cougar. “So what really happened at the beach?”

Cougar hesitated, looking for the best way to give his friend a comforting answer without betraying Stella’s confidence, and it was proving a really difficult task. “She… umm, she told me Evan had said he loved her.” He answered a second or two later, hesitantly.

“What?” Jensen asked, swallowing hard. His beer suddenly felt a bit sandy.

“She didn’t say much more but I’ll let you draw your own conclusions how the whole thing went from how she’s been and the fact he isn’t here.” Cougar shrugged.

Jensen glared at him before taking another sip of his drink. He couldn’t think clearly, it wasn’t time for mind riddles and someone had definitely added that fucking sticky beach sand to his beer, plus, now he was pissed and his mind started spiralling.

Fucking Shit-Name dropping the fucking L word!

But then again, how could he not love her? It was impossible once you knew Stella, and he should know, he had tried it.

And what the fuck? Why hadn’t she told him when he had asked, instead of avoiding the topic all day long and then telling Cougar instead?

And yeah, Cougar could fuck off as well. With a final glare at him, he thrust his beer bottle back into Cougar’s hand and left without as much as a goodbye word.

What might seem common, rational sense to everyone else was never that common or sensible in Jake Jensen’s fucked up mind, least of all when it came down to Stella Stevenson. So, as he headed back to his room and passed hers on his way he stopped and turned back, making her way to her door. He stepped forward, ready to knock, but he dropped his knuckle when it was still mid-air and with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh he carried on.

And now he was also pissed at himself. Great.

******

Chapter 7 Part 2

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen x ofc #the losers #the losers fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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sadistgalore · 2 years

Note

Tell me more about the Prequel Miniseries??

i would love to!!! thank you for asking!

so the Prequel Miniseries is basically the origin stories of some of the characters in my main story and their experience with the Jaguars (the gang that my whumpers [Dark and Luther] work for)

so if you know Dark, then the prequel will contain his relationship with his deceased wife Evelyn and the man he used to be. and if anyone has noticed, i've been hinting at Luther's backstory in my recent drabbles. his involvement from the gang is really dark, and there is one component that i'm still not sure i wanna put in. it will make my story a lot more fucked up, and i'm kinda afraid of being cancelled lol.

other characters in the prequel are Harper's mom and dad, Harper's grandparents that take her brother in the future, dark's (current) wife Helene and her relationship with Luther, Helene's sister, Ida, who gets married to a slave and gives birth to Beth and Nate (Nate i have yet to introduce, Beth is already known), and then the main bad guy/leader of the group/Helene's and Ida's dad, who I have yet to name.

sorry that was so much information lol, but since amonthofwhump's prompt challenge for march is based of gang and crime families, that will be the perfect time to publish it! hopefully i'll get it done in time lmao, my senior trip is in that same week.

this is what i'm planning on releasing:

Swimming with the Fishes: Ida's forbidden romance with her father's slave, Harold

Vendetta: The father of another slave I'm going to introduce and his creation of a rebellion against the Jaguars (this rebellion will eventually be the endgame for my main story)

Family Business: When Evelyn dies and Dark is forced to marry a woman, Helene, he doesn't love by the order of her father

Rite of Passage/Initiation: Luther being an official member of the Jaguars (this is the story i'm scared to release)

Assassination: Dark killing Beth's parents, Harold and Ida, and kidnapping her brother Nathan

i'm still not sure what to do for the "Snitches and Stitches" and "Kidnapping" prompts, but this is the rest of the prequel stuff

Dark meeting Evelyn for the first time

Bruce (Harper's dad) abandoning the Jaguars and running away with Stella (Harper's mom)

Dark finding Luther/Luther's introduction

(not really part of the prequel, but part of Luther's descent into madness) Luther Fucks Killian (this is another one i'm scared to release)

i hope you enjoyed learning about it! i'm very passionate about this miniseries and i can't wait to release it. if anyone wants to know more or get snippets of these since some of them are already completed, let me know!

#ask #whump #worldbuilding

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alittlextrathatway · 3 years

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General

#10

Brettsey ❤

“You want to play pretend? Well two can play at that game.”

******

Coming here was a mistake.

When Olivia had learned what was happening between Sylvie and Casey and then the mess that followed with Greg Grainger she’d insisted on meeting up with her for a drink to talk about Sylvie’s “options”.

Options, as it turns out, means dating prospects. Sylvie has no wish to go on any more dates or hurt anyone else, but Olivia is a very determined and task-oriented person. It’s part of why they get along so well. Olivia insists that the right person will make her forget all about Matt and that Greg simply wasn’t that person.

Sylvie thinks that it’s a pointless endeavor and her heart is just forever hopelessly tethered to Matt’s. (The way his is forever hopelessly tethered to Gabby’s, she thinks bitterly.) But explaining that to Olivia doesn’t make a dent in her resolve.

“I thought you said Matt and I were meant for each other?” Sylvie had asked her teasingly.

“You are but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t be a perfectly adequate fit too. I already know of one guy who I think would be perfect for you.”

There is no deterring her. So, Sylvie shows up at Molly’s to meet Olivia for a drink. It’s a slow night in the middle of the week so there’s really no one else around except off duty first responders. Which includes, Sylvie notices with an internal grimace, Matt Casey.

It also includes a very handsome stranger sitting next to Olivia. Olivia sees her, winks, and then nods toward tall, built, and handsome. Brett immediately knows what’s happened. She’s been set up.

Oh, no. No. The guy is very cute and his smile is...wow. If she sits there and talks to him all night, she knows she’ll agree to a date if only to be polite. She can’t go over there without back up.

Stella’s off and no one she knows is around…

Except Matt.

Shit.

She makes a split second decision, making a beeline for Matt, and sitting herself on the empty stool next to him. She leans in, letting herself be closer to him than she’s been in weeks. She’s hesitant to ask him for help but, dammit, she wouldn’t be in this position if he wasn’t hung up on Gabby. This is his fault and he owes her.

Matt looks up in surprise from where he’d been staring into his glass of whiskey. “Are you actually acknowledging me?”

Her eyes narrow and she sighs, suddenly tired of pretending she doesn’t notice him every moment they’re in the same room. She also doesn’t want to take the bait and argue with him. Her frustration with him, her hurt, and her inability to move on grows by the day.

So, she decides to keep it simple. “Yes. I need a favor and, since you’re the reason I’m in this situation, you owe me.”

His brow furrows. “What situation?”

She pastes on a smile and waves over her shoulder at Olivia who is giving her a very suspicious glare.

“I made the mistake of talking to Olivia about what happened with you and me and now she’s determined to set me up with someone. I need you to pretend we patched things up because that’s the only thing that will get her off my back,” she explains, turning her back on Olivia again. “And it needs to be convincing.”

“Set you up?” He asks, wrinkle in his brows setting in deeper. “What about Grainger?”

“I ended that two weeks ago,” she answers quickly, not wanting to dwell on why. “Will you pretend we worked it out or not? She brought someone with her so if you don’t want to do it then I have to find another excuse—“

“I’m in,” he says, determination settling over his face while hope shines in his eyes. She’s not sure she likes that combination in this context.

He stands to go with her to the table and as they turn he slips an arm around her waist and lowers his lips to her ear.

Giving him the perfect moment to whisper, “you want to play pretend? Well, two can play at that game.”

They reach Olivia and her friend before she can ask him what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but it doesn’t matter. She has her answer almost as soon as Matt finishes greeting Olivia.

He guides Sylvie to her chair and then swipes a kiss as she sits. The gesture was quick and comfortable and yet completely earth shattering. She’s pretty sure she the building shook for the split second he had his lips on hers. Dammit. She should have bailed on Olivia. This is going to be torture. She can’t have him even if he’s going to be next to her all night.

“Rosé?” Matt asks her knowingly, nodding toward the bar.

She starts to nod but then changes her mind. “No, an old fashioned.”

She needs a stronger type of liquid fortification.

He nods, rubbing a hand over her back before walking away. The tingle of his touch on her back will linger for the rest of the night just as her lips continue to tingle now. This is a mistake. She’s going to have to recover from missing him all over again. Not that she truly did the first time around, but she’s gotten very good at pretending.

Olivia leans across the table with a wary expression. “You said you were keeping your distance from him.”

“Well, we talked this afternoon and worked it out,” Sylvie lies. “I mean mostly worked it out. We still have lots to talk about but we’ll get there.”

God, how she wishes that were the truth.

Matt comes back with her drink, saving her from further explanation and sits down next to her.

Matt points toward the well-built god Olivia brought to meet Sylvie and gives him an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. Remind me of your name again? Eric?”

“Aaron,” the guy answers with a wan smile. He looks down at his watch and then fakes a grimace. “Oh man, would you look at that? I forgot I have a patient meeting tonight. I’m a physical therapist,” he explains. “Can’t leave a patient hanging. It was nice to meet you both, Sylvie and Matt, but I should be going.”

They all know it’s a lie and they all pretend they don’t.

“Nice to meet you too,” Sylvie says politely. At least that’s one less problem to deal with. Once he’s gone, Sylvie gives Olivia a dry glance. “I thought you wanted to get together and hang out. Not set me up on a date.”

“I thought I could kill two birds with one stone,” Olivia answers with a shrug. A slow pleased grin spreads over her lips as she continues. “But looks like my interference wasn’t even needed because Matt Casey came to his senses. As he should have. Sylvie’s an eleven and you’d be an idiot to let her be the one that got away.”

“I know that,” Matt agrees. “I’ve always known that. I just needed to get my head out of my ass and show it. That tripped me up for a while.” He swivels his gaze from Olivia to her, meeting her eyes with the full force of his solemn stare. “But it’s not gonna trip me up anymore.”

Her breathing hitches and she swallows thickly. This doesn’t feel like part of the act. His gaze is too earnest, too steady.

“Good,” Olivia replies, taking a sip of her wine. “I told her forever ago that you two were meant for each other and I hate being wrong.”

His eyes stay focused on Sylvie’s and he smirks confidently. “Oh, you did, huh? She never told me that.”

He drapes his arm across the back of her chair causing his hand to rest on her shoulder. As he continues, his fingers knead the stiffness in her muscles. It melts some of her tension away, even if she doesn’t want it to.

“But don’t worry, I have no intention of proving you wrong,” Matt promises, eyes drifting back to Olivia. “Sylvie’s the only person I want — has been for a long time — whether she believes me or not.”

They have a lot of issues to talk about and playing pretend hasn’t solved any of them, but he’s found the crack in her walls and managed to slip through. Another attempt at discussing their situation can’t be far off and this time she gets the distinct impression he’ll actually have some real answers.

She’s in big trouble, at risk of letting him back in, but maybe…

Maybe that’s exactly what she’s been hoping for all this time.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #chicago fire #fanfiction #angellwings writes #my fic #fanfiction prompt game #ask prompt #Olivia needs to make her triumphant return and fix this angst shit #she could do it

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willowbird · 4 years

Text

Twinyards - Hello ( Daemons AU)

Okay so here is going to be my one and only entry for @twinyardsappreciationweek -- not because I didn't want to!! I just.. life happened and so I only actually got the first one done and then I went back and forth about posting it for several days because my anxiety is off the charts this week (huh I wonder why??)

So ANYWAY! This is my "Hellos", a first meeting between Aaron and Andrew in an AU that takes what I like about His Dark Materials and ignores what I've forgotten about it because I honestly haven't read the books in 15 years. Please forgive me for making up the rules as I go along. You do not need to be familiar with The Golden Compass/Northern Lights/His Dark Materials in order to understand or enjoy this AU because.. well, like I just said, I kinda kept the "soul animal" bit and decided to make up the rules for the rest as I went along. Feel free to ping me in messages or send me an ask if you have any questions.

------

“You’re biting your nails all the way down again.” Stella’s voice was quiet in Aaron’s ear. She was currently balanced on his shoulder where she could see the whole room while also being well out of trampling-range of larger daemons and their people.

“No I’m not,” he grumbled, but snatched his fingers away from his mouth because yes - he was. “And don’t hedgehogs have terrible eyesight? How would you even know?”

Stella huffed, and the small snap of her breath tickled his ear, making him twitch. “I don’t know where you heard that, but I can see just fine, thank you very much.”

“If you say so,” Aaron relented -- not because he actually believed her but because he was too distracted to engage in their usual bickering. There was nothing interesting about the room they were sitting in. It was empty of anyone besides him and his uncle and their daemons, neither of which were very large, and was painted a pale blue offset by a dark gray shallow carpet that made Aaron feel like he was sitting in the waiting room of a dentist’s office rather than a juvenile detention center. Still, despite the general blandness of their surroundings, Aaron’s mind was busy.

After all, today he was going to be meeting his brother. His long-lost brother. His long-lost twin brother.

Yeah, mindfuck right?

Twice already his uncle had shot him a look for the way his knee kept bouncing with jittery nerves, but it’s not like he could help it. It just wasn’t every day that you found out that you had a long-lost twin. That you got to meet that long-lost twin, especially after they’d initially told you to piss off.

Well, more or less.

Andrew’s letter back to him had been more like, Aaron, back the fuck off. Stay far the fuck away until you hear from me. I’m fucking serious. -- A.

No, really. That’s exactly what it said. Aaron had read it so many times that he’d memorized it, first because he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a letter back, then because he couldn’t believe his brother was such an unrepentant asshole, and then because he couldn’t help but notice that they both wrote their lower-case ‘a’s the exact same way.

That was almost two months ago. Mom had absolutely freaked out and moved them across the damn country within a couple of weeks of the whole ‘Andrew Situation’ coming to light, and if it had been up to her Aaron definitely wouldn’t be here now. Except Uncle Luther, for all that he was a gigantic flaming dickhead, wasn’t quite as willing to let it go. Then, last week, he’d gotten a letter back from Andrew. All it had was an address to a juvenile detention center.

And so here he was, ready to meet his twin brother, and he felt so many things about it that he didn’t even know how he was really feeling.

“Luther Hemmick and Aaron Minyard?”

Aaron jumped at the voice and looked over at the stout man who had just entered the room. He wore a white coat like some kind of doctor and looked weirdly buff for also being old and balding.

Beside him, his uncle stood up, his pomeranian daemon trotting out from where she’d been curled under his chair. Aaron scooped Stella off his shoulder and returned her to her preferred nest inside the pocket of his hoodie as he joined his uncle. He tried to mimic his uncle’s superior sort of calm as he trailed after the two men, passing through the security door and down the narrow tiled hallway into what looked like some kind of common room.

Aaron had expected it to look like the rooms inmates talked to their families on tv, with two-way glass and phones so that you could talk to the person on the other side. He’d expected a lot of cold steel and white stone walls, with all the kids in matching gray jumpsuits or something.

Instead, they were in what looked like a giant living room. There were several couches and tables, a television with a few different video game systems, and a tall shelving unit filled with board games. There were teenagers lounging on the couches or at the tables, one or two of them apparently also visiting with family. Aaron didn’t spend all that much time scoping out the other kids, though, because on his first scan of the room his gaze settled on a blond boy sitting in the bay window with a fucking lion stretched out on the floor beside him, a living, breathing, tooth-filled barrier between him and the rest of the room.

Andrew.

Their little party had stopped just inside the door and Aaron was distantly aware of the warden or the principal or the doctor or whatever the fuck he was telling Uncle Luther about the facility. He couldn’t focus on them enough to actually retain the specifics though, not when he saw Andrew.

It was so… so fucking weird. He was there. Right fucking there. His brother, and they were identical. Okay, so, not completely identical. Andrew’s hair was longer than his own, and since the kids here were apparently allowed to wear street clothes he was wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt (which was neither a gray jumpsuit nor anything that Aaron would typically wear -- he preferred normal jeans and band t-shirts, thanks). There was also something… colder about him that Aaron didn’t know how to feel about but definitely seemed to match the two brief letters he’d gotten from him.

The lion lifted her head and looked right at him, fixing him with an eerie amber stare he felt both trapped and analyzed by. It was not comfortable and it took all of his willpower not to squirm. As it were, he ended up fully flinching when their guide called out a bit too loudly from a bit too close to him.

"Andrew! Come say hello, your family is here to see you."

Andrew, who up until this point had been reading a book like he hadn't known they were there at all, just… continued to read. He didn't look up, didn't even seem like he'd heard him at all.

The man sighed and gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, well. He's a bit antisocial."

"Hm." The disapproving sound from Uncle Luther had Aaron glancing over at him and he didn't really like the calculating look on his face. It would be utter bullshit if he finally got a brother only for his uncle to make it so he ended up getting shipped off to military school or something.

Rather than wait around for the adults to come up with some stupid way to attempt to make Andrew bow to their will, Aaron rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Stella's head where she was huddled in his pocket and strode forward with far more confidence than he actually felt. He stopped several feet in front of the lioness and tried not to be intimidated by her. Logically he knew that she wasn't a fully grown lion yet, that she was an adolescent to match her human's age, but Aaron had always been uneasy around daemons who had settled into big predators. Maybe it was because his own daemon was so small and he was protective of her -- or maybe it was some deeper instinct he wasn't ready or able to interpret yet. Either way, he ended up having to keep both hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He couldn't steady both them and his voice at the same time, and he needed his voice to be steady.

"Hey,” he said -- and yes, his voice for that whole one word was very steady. Maybe even casual. Fuck yeah.

The lion, who had watched him throughout his entire approach, flicked her ears -- but he had no idea what emotion that was supposed to be.

For a moment, Aaron thought that was all he was going to get. Then he saw Andrew sigh and resolutely dog-ear the page he was on before closing the book and setting it down on the windowsill. He looked over at him, just with a flick of his eyes at first and then by turning his head. Aaron kept perfectly still and had the distinct impression he was being judged or evaluated somehow. It was really uncomfortable and also kind of annoying, but the hard stare of the other boy matched that of the lioness a bit too closely for Aaron to be willing to call him out on it just yet.

Instead, he waited, and he used the opportunity to look at his brother too. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to know him. He wanted to know what his life had been like and his favorite music. He wanted to know if he and his daemon had played the same sort of ‘what if’ games that he and Stella had growing up. He wanted to know if Andrew had always wished for a brother too, and if he’d grown up feeling like something was missing only to feel all the pieces click into place the second he found out that he had a twin. None of these were things he’d be able to learn just by looking at him, but looking was a start -- and it could tell him other things.

For one thing, he could tell that Andrew liked to read, right? There was the book he’d been reading -- it had been a thick one and he’d seemed really into reading it. He clearly didn’t like adults, since he’d ignored the big guy when he’d called out to him (though really, Aaron figured anyone in juvie probably didn’t like adults). He liked the color black..?

Look, it was a start.

Somehow, Aaron got the feeling that Andrew was able to read more on him than he was able to read on Andrew; or maybe that was just his own frustration at being able to pick out so little. Either way, it was irritating when Andrew nodded a few moments later like he’d made some sort of decision or something. Andrew looked past him then to where Uncle Luther was still speaking with the guy in charge and the casual coolness hardened into something icy with disdain.

Aaron frowned and looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything weird. He looked back at Andrew and said, “So, I’m Aaron…”

Andrew looked at him again, his expression a blank mask. “Clearly.”

Aaron’s temper arrived unannounced and uninvited, but that wasn’t altogether that strange. “I thought you wanted me to come. Isn’t that why you sent the address? If you’re just going to be a big dick about it you could have saved us both the trouble.” He snapped the words out without repent, lifting his chin and glaring down at his brother before he remembered there was a lion between them with sharp teeth and man-shredding claws.

Neither Andrew nor his lioness daemon seemed offended by his little outburst, though. If anything, Andrew looked amused. His mouth quirked a little on the side, almost like a smile -- or like, maybe he had an itch or something.

“Where’s your daemon?” he asked then, familiar-but-not hazel eyes scanning the immediate area then glancing backward toward the window. Most buildings were designed for the ease of use for both humans and their daemons, but some larger daemons preferred to stay outside but close-by rather than squeezing into tighter quarters. Larger daemons also tended to have a larger range away from their person, as well. Aaron wasn’t sure how far he could get from Stella. He honestly didn’t like the idea of her not being physically on him most of the time, so he was glad she was small enough to do so.

Aaron cupped his hand in his pocket and she cuddled into it so he could pull her out.

Andrew looked at her, then to him. “She’s cute.”

From most people, that would probably be some kind of an insult, but Aaron got the very weird sense that Andrew was being genuine. It threw him off enough that he just blinked stupidly for a moment before saying, “Uh… thanks. Yeah, she is.”

Instead of responding, Andrew stood up and strode past him. Aaron quickly stepped out of the way as the lioness rose fluidly to move with him.

“And where do you think you’re going, Andrew?” the big guy who’d showed them in said with a false lightness.

“Outside.” He looked over his shoulder then, and Aaron realized a half a second before Andrew continued speaking that he was being invited along. “My brother and I have about fourteen years of catching up to do.”

Aaron’s heart did a traitorous little leap in his chest. He looked down at where he was still holding Stella up in an open palm. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle and Aaron hid a grin as he hurried to follow his brother. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here on out -- but he was suddenly sure that no matter what, he and Stella wouldn’t be alone anymore.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #my writing #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #his dark materials au #daemon au #twinyards #wholesome twinyards #hellos #look its an au where things turn out very different and i have a lot of feelings about it ok??#twinyardsappreciationweek

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Bad (2): What Happened?

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: What went down that fateful night...

A/n: I got carried away, and kinda forgot about the real plot lol. So there’s more fluff than angst... I think.

Disclaimer: this chapter is sort of a filler before we get to the real shiz.

Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, poor writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist

Picking up from where we last left off: About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change…

They always say to choose a job that you love. Something even your own parents had drilled into your head as a young child, trying to prevent you from their own mistakes. It was known then, that if you chose a job you didn’t love, you would be metaphorically chained like a prisoner bound to the wall, or in your case, the job.

Well, you followed their advice, and chose a job you were passionate about, something you didn’t mind studying about all those years ago in college. It’s not that you didn’t love your job, but you were tired, very tired. Life was fast paced and you were running out of fuel, so to say. So this morning when your work offered you an exclusive week off, you took the offer, worked quickly yet precisely, and flew out the door, before it was dark. Normally, you’d work more than the normal 9-5 shift, it was more like 9-7 for you, anyway.

Ransom was supposedly off today, and you wanted nothing more than to kick off your break, by eating a nice lunch with your husband. While you gave your holiday wishes to your friends, you shot Ransom a quick text asking him to call you.

So, just as you drove down the highway, your phone steaming your favorite playlist to the car’s stereo, Ransom’s name popped up on the large screen, a picture of him in college, showing up. (yeah, you liked to tease him about his college years, when he thought he was all that and a bag of chips.)

“Hey Gorgeous! What’s up?”

“Well… you interrupted my carpool karaoke.”

Your husband laughed along with you, before you dropped your surprise on him.

“Other than that, my work gave me the week off. No biggie though.”

Being married to Ransom and having known him for many years, has given you a real sense of sarcasm to say the least.

“That’s amazing! You deserve it, my love.”

“Ohh, quit trying to butter me up, Ran.”

More laughter from his end, making a large grin grow on your face. Only you could ever make Ransom laugh at the stupidest things, that’s just the kind of bond you two shared.

“Anyhoo, I was wondering if you wanted me to come pick you up for lunch?”

“Sounds great, love ya.”

“Love you too.” The rest of the drive to your house was enjoyable. Today had been spectacular, something that hadn’t happened in ages. As you continued to drive, all the amazing occurrences from today settled with you in the car, a permanent smile on your face the whole way.

You pulled into the driveway, opting to stay in the car just to keep the warm air flowing from the vents, sending Ransom a quick text.

A few minutes later, the man himself came out, his brown suede trench coat on, your own raspberry pea coat slung over his left arm.

The passenger door popped open, and Ransom’s warm lips pressed slowly against your cheek, instantly warming you up.

“I figured you might be cold.”

A deep laugh resonated in his stomach as he reached over the console to hand you the jacket, the one you had forgotten this morning.

“Thanks, hon. So, where do you want to eat?”

You looked over to Ransom, whose eyes had been lovingly glued to you since he’d gotten in the car.

“How about that little sandwich shop in town?”

A bright and sweet smile graced your lips, stunning Ransom with its effect on him. His own eyes crinkling up as his frowning lips slowly formed into a content smile.

Once you had reached town about twenty minutes later, Ransom rushed out of the car the minute you had stopped the engine. His actions leaving you confused when suddenly a blurb of tan suede halted and revealed the missing man, who was now pulling your door open.

“Wow Mr. Drysdale, since when did you become such a gentleman.”

You teased Ransom, wrapping your arm around his, embracing his warmth, and playfully kissing his nose.

“Since you became Mrs. Drysdale.”

His little quip caught you off guard as you weren’t expecting a response from the man. As a result of that surprise, your cheeks slightly warmed, causing you to shyly look down. It was a given, what had just happened, as Ransom knew your reactions like the back of his hand.

That arrogant jerk knew very well what he had done and slightly leaned over to kiss your bowed head.

Confidently, Ransom spoke up, and without even looking over at him, you just knew he was smirking.

“Still have that effect on you, huh?”

Before you could banter back at him, your arm interlocked with Ransom’s was tugged, prompting you to look up.

Apparently, when you were just mindlessly walking to the restaurant, Ransom had another stop on his list. One full of eye-catching flower bouquets. Blood red roses, yellow lilies, variegated tulips, you name it, they littered the glass window of the flower shop.

As you stepped into the shop, the distinctive smell of baby’s breath filled your senses. You were still interlocked with Ransom, so at this point wherever he walked, you went. Also meaning he’d dragged you to the counter despite your words of defiance.

“Ransom, you don’t need to buy me anything. All I want is to eat lunch, with my husband.”

“And that you’ll get.”

Just when you’d thought you’d won this argument, the man continued.

“Along with the bouquet of carnations and baby’s breath please.

Your husband spoke up just a bit louder, so the man behind the counter could hear his order while also making it known to you that you were indeed gonna accept these flowers.

Ransom quickly paid for the bouquet, coming back to lock arms with you and hand you the flowers. It was a simple bouquet yet the meaning behind the choice a lot stronger. Coral carnations ideally intermixed with the snow-white baby’s breath. The soft aroma from earlier, now in a bouquet held by your cold hands.

When you were young, your grandmother would always buy carnations for her home, specifically the coral ones. She’d tell you about each flower and how they were all unique, capturing your curiosity. As you got older, you became more versed in floral design and structure. Soon, you were going every other day to buy fresh carnations for your grandmother. When you had first brought Ransom to meet her, she told him about the story behind carnations and when you were always buying them.

To this day, Ransom remembers, and the carnations have since then become your flower.

If it weren’t for the constant wind, the temperature would have been enjoyable, but now your hands were slightly shaking and Ransom noticed. Taking your free hand in his, he then put your conjoined hands in his coat pocket.

Just a few more blocks and you had finally made it to the humble little sandwich shop, one Ransom had actually introduced to you.

Mr. Miller, the owner of the shop happily greeted you both. Over the years you’ve lived in Massachusetts, you and Ransom have become regulars at this shop. It may have been a small place, with seating for only thirty people, yet the food was outstanding. Especially Mr. Miller’s Monte Cristo, your’s and Ransom’s favorite. To no surprise, that is in fact what you ended up ordering.

As you sat at the booth, the two of you laughing and enjoying the time spent with each other, never once did it cross your mind that this was it. That this was not gonna be the normal anymore. It’d become a memory you’d end up savoring for the years of the future.

Because little did you know, that was the last time he’d ever buy you flowers, the last time he’d ever laugh with you…

The last time he’d ever really love you.

That very next day, you woke up early to pack your bags for the unbearable flight to come. You absolutely hated the airport, but then again, who doesn’t? It was a constant marathon and by time you make it to all your gates, you’d probably lose ten pounds from running so much. There was no peace at the airport, especially with the holiday rush and you dreaded it. If only your husband could have come, it would make things ten times better, but he can’t and you aren’t going to miss this opportunity. It’s been a few years since you’ve been able to go home, and truly relax for the holidays. The years before, you’d only get to spend the weekend, but now you have the whole week and in the end, it’d be worth the living hell at the airport.

By 10:00 am, you were all ready to go, Ransom carrying the bags to your car, sulking as he did so. He really wanted to go with you. Believe it or not, but Ransom would love to spend all his time with you if he could, except Harlan really needed his help to finish up a few things.

With everything packed, it finally came time for you to bid goodbye. Sure, it was a week away, but this was your first Christmas as a married couple, and you couldn’t spend it together. Had things been different, you could have, but Ransom understood you missed your family. For once in his life, Ransom Drysdale thought about someone else’s benefit beside his own.

The car running, you flung your arms around Ransom, who stood at the door, coffee in hand, balancing it as he reciprocated the hug.

He could feel your tears on his neck, running through his sweatshirt. Your head was buried in the crevice, and your sobs made his heart shatter. Ransom couldn't bear it anymore, because soon he’d be the one crying. A warm hand, ran up and down your back while soothing whispers rang in your ear.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.”

Your sobs that racked your body soon ceased, Ransom pulling back to give you his best attempt at a smile. His eyes worriedly scanned over your red ones before pulling you into a soothing kiss. Releasing your lips, Ransom once again gave you a comforting smile, handing you the coffee, knowing you had forgotten your own.

“Go on, you’re gonna be late, my love.”

On tippy toes, you pressed your lips to the corner of Ransom’s, slowly leaning away, then solemnly heading to your car.

That night, you had called Ransom, telling him you made it safely and that you’d facetime him tomorrow. In his voice, Ransom hid his sorrow, but in truth, ever since you left this morning, he’d been wallowing in despair. What better way to drown out your sorrows than to actually do that? So just as Ransom hung up the phone, he dashed to the car and to the nearest bar, slowly easing the pain via eight beers.

Just about to ring up the bartender for a check, a small, womanly hand slowly wrapped around his forearm, setting it back down on the counter.

“Hey stranger.”

Ransom was so intoxicated, he struggled to even focus, but all he knew was that a woman was sitting in front of him and he sure was missing his wife. It was wrong, but at that moment, his priorities blurred the minute the girl’s lips smothered his. There weren’t boundaries anymore and he knew damn well, that this lady was making his thoughts and good judgement dissipate, he forgot why he was even there in the first place. Right now, you were in the back of his drunken mind, and Blair in the front. Literally and figuratively.

The two broke away from the kiss for air, and Ransom soon remembered the woman staring seductively at him. At this moment, the man was no longer in his own mindset and was reverting back to his old self. The playboy Ransom Drysdale was out tonight, not the man bound by the ring on his finger.

“It’s Blair right?”

She nodded, a few waves of chestnut brown hair moving with her head. Soon drinks long forgotten, Ransom threw down a one-hundred dollar bill, taking Blair by the hand, and out the door. As he gripped her warm hand, he could feel the cold metal of his wedding ring, slightly breaking him out of his lustful haze as mentally kicked himself for what just almost happened. He let out a small laugh, you were always there to keep him in line, whether he accepted it or not. And thank god for that, he thought. After that little reminder, it was like he had sobered up.

About to send Blair back into the bar, lips peppered small kisses to his ear and his fresh mindset was thrown out the window. The sober thoughts now gone. Starting that car engine and driving out with Blair in the passenger seat, Ransom was unknowingly throwing away the best thing to ever happen to him. By doing this, long gone was the better man you had helped make Ransom become.

If only he had been strong enough to fight the temptation and listen to the little warning the symbol of your love (his ring) gave him...

And that night, as Ransom washed away his longing for you with Blair, you laid awake in your childhood bed, happily replaying the memory of lunch with Ransom just the day before. Soon, you’d be reliving that memory in your head, more often than once, but with tears streaming down your face.

taglist: @kiwihoee @buckybarnesthehotshot @memissbee @tricereads @tonystankschild @coffeebooksandfandom @ria132love @what-is-your-wish @maan24 @bval-1 @jemimah-b99

If I’ve messed up and tagged the wrong person, please lemme know. I’m very tired and typing up the taglist was probably not the best idea.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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reinepadova · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen

[←Previous] | Chapter 6 | [ Next → ]

“The person who removes a mountain, begins by carrying away small stones.”

Sweet, bright, and floral – words that encapsulate the enticing smell wafting up from a beautifully carved tea tray, with the decanted water flowing down into its grooves to a catch basin underneath. Two pinming tea cups, already warmed and rinsed – painted in a beautiful array of geometric patterns – are a matched set with the tea pitcher currently pouring the first infusion.

“Your tea, Miss.” A large gloved hand – dark and unassuming, except for the dull shimmer of a large jade ring at its thumb, and a shining topaz gem cut in a sharp diamond at the wrist – pushed the filled drink with practiced ease near a seated figure, whose garbs of soft greens, subtle blues, and hints of black, signify a distant relation to the deceased.

“Thank you,” the figure said, her hand reaching for a cup, her head tilted to the unadorned wall. Though her arms seem relaxed, her shoulders were stiff, while her legs were tucked sideways, like a force of habit. She made a fine picture of poise and sophistication from afar, but perfectly humble in her mourning up close.

The host hummed graciously, savoring his first sip, noting the elegance in her figure despite the rather defensive posture. Hmm. If she remains unmoving, pain shall spread on her lower back.

“This drink is made from an evergreen shrub, which grows abundant at Jueyun Karst,” he began, calm dignity resonating in his voice. “It is said to be a place where the adepti enjoy their seclusion, hence the people's reluctance to disturb it's grounds. As such, these leaves are very rare. Only skilled herb gatherers that inherited the wisdom – and the courage – to traverse these lands are able to obtain them.”

“I see,” she replied, an empty cup waiting for a second infusion. He obliged and continued.

“Notice it's yellow hue? It is an accidental discovery. The color of dried tea leaves is normally green, with a taste that range from bittersweet to nutty, or from floral to oceanic. Some, on the other hand, would go so far as to liken it to simple vegetation. 'Grassy', they would say. Hmm. Tea may not be their beverage of choice.”

“Fascinating,” his guest replied, even tone barely hiding polite disinterest. He quirked a slight brow but remained undeterred - he's had encounters with people more ornery in years past.

As curious as her passively hostile behavior towards him has been for the past few days, he shall not stoop low to the level of the ignorant – like those at the marketplace, who circulate hearsays that leave much to be desired. He's only grateful young Mei is spared, for he may start questioning the integrity of his people.

He turned auric eyes down to his cup, watching the idle swirl of the liquid within.

He may only know just the surface of her troubles – like the vague taste of anguish from the void of her dreams – but he's determined to release the pressure through the cracks of her facade, like flushing steam from a smoking mount.

He knows beneath a calm mountain, lies a dissonance that could erupt, painfully and forcefully, at any given moment.

“But years ago, it is said a farmer had forgotten to dry out a batch of these leaves. And a cloth, flung free from a drying line, landed from above, sealing the warm moisture on them shut for a full summer's day. To the farmer's delight, the taste of the finished tea turned light and mellow, and the so-called grassy flavor gone without consequence. This procedure is now known as 'sealing yellow', the widely accepted finish for the tea we enjoy now.”

“How interesting.”

“Quite so.”

Hmm. Mayhaps the origins of tea may not be of interest?

Silence reigned heavily on the two tea companions, like too much burnt incense hanging in the air. A low cough from one tried to break through the discomfort, while the other remained resolutely silent.

“Would you prefer a different drink? We have other varieties that may be more palatable for your taste.”

The lady seem to snap out of thought, shaking her head insistently while eyeing the gloved hand that moved to remove her cup. “No. That's unnecessary. This will do. Thank you for your service,” she dismissed, gently but concisely, with an unconscious hand rubbing at her eyes.

“Is there nothing else I may assist in?” he asked, subdued, concern coloring his words. His uncharacteristically tilted head missed entirely by the lady's distraction.

“No,” came the tired reply, an undertone of exasperation escaping in the same breath.

“...nothing at all?”

She seem to take a deep breath, holding it for a minute, before letting it out in one, even sigh.

Not far from the one-sided conversation, peeking at the side of a privacy screen, the seventy-seventh director of Wangsheng looked on, a feline smile stretched across her face. She watched, with growing giddiness, at the most hilarious drama she'd ever witness in her waking years yet!

“Hu Tao-zhǔrèn? Should we not intervene?” Ferrylady whispered, glancing worriedly at the guest lounge herself. She wanted to help dispel such a morose atmosphere, as ironic as that is, for it is her duty for an honored guest, as well as to their noble consultant.

“Shhh~ Not now, Ferrylady. This is getting good.”

“But, madam, this has been going on for three days. Progress is no where to be found.”

“Exactly. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to this place!”

"Madam. 'Exciting' is counterproductive to what we strive for in this business."

Ferrylady knew her young boss would have squealed if not for their absolute need for discretion.

No good thing comes from eavesdropping such a private exchange after all.

Hu Tao just hushed her again, silently crawling forward to get a better view. The shadow of the large vase their dear consultant insisted they buy the other day made for a good hiding spot. Something about its story being a distraction for the distraught passed through her mind.

“Miss Ferrylady? H-Hu-zhǔrèn? Why are you crouching down there?”

The two snapped their attention to their new employee, who wore a very bemused expression while pulling at the collar of his stiff uniform.

“Shh! Meng, do you want the troubled souls in the parlor to catch your feet? Drop down behind us now and complete the formation. This is your first assignment~” Hu Tao murmured seriously, an unreadable twinkle reflecting in her eyes. Meng would have gasped out loud if he hadn't slapped his hands over his mouth.

He swiftly did as he was told, back brushing against the wall in the cramped space, before he swiveled worried eyes all around them. Ferrylady just sighed, familiar with their director's ways of keeping someone quiet.

“Now keep quiet for the next half hour you two. Act Two is about to begin~”

-{-}-

Stella mildly wondered if it would be child neglect to jump from the pier right outside the parlor, leaving Mei all alone. It's the only thing she could think of right now to prevent herself from strangling this, this – ugh! This persistent man!

She knows there is a custom of not speaking with customers, out of respect for old tradition – but this one seem to have missed the memo.

Before the day Mei's grandmother passed, the old woman had enough breath to tell her where she wished to have her wake, what she and Mei should wear, what their manners should be during mourning period, and other matters relating to Mei's future.

But despite her meticulous notetaking – her brushstrokes needed lots of work, she knows – Stella still felt unprepared for the kind of reception she received at the infamous Wangsheng ever since their return back at the Harbor.

After tucking in a sleepy Mei in her room, Stella went straight to the parlor, placing three of the Glaze Lilies in the simple pots she requested in advance, nestling them in between wreaths of white flowers surrounding the covered body.

When she finished burning the joss paper for a final offering, she jumped at the male voice directly from behind her. Whirling around, her heart skipped a beat, brows falling low at his short salutation.

The gentleman before her wore a suit that was subtle in opulence, and elegant in form – a large contrast to the uniform worn by the undertakers that assisted her and Mei before taking off to Qingce Village. She noted the thick rings that contrasted against his gloves – rings worn on the thumb, symbolizing the authority the wearer wields, as well as the arrogance boasting of wealth. Her brow had twitched.

“Good evening. May I ask why is the boss of Wangsheng seeing me?” she inquired, arms crossed. Its the only explanation for someone of importance to act like a host in the dark hall.

Despite the hammering beat in her chest, and the lost of color from her face, she stood tall with a firm stance – bracing herself in case this man mocks her for her ignorance. But when no sound of condescension came, she felt unsettled, and focused on his shining tie instead.

It's an unfortunate habit she has around these types she has yet to break, but a good enough technique to show they still have her attention. They usually have some sort of trinket on them – a silken pocket square, an heirloom brooch, or a collar clip – so its not difficult to direct her eye near their neck.

She could have glanced up to a point near their ear, to give the illusion of eye contact - but she didn’t want to remember their face, she has no interest to know of it, to know of them. She has no plans of interacting with this person ever, if she could manage it.

But she was brought out of her thoughts by a sudden chuckle, a smooth and sonorous sound, like rumbling thunder in the distance. It was not taunting or haughty, like she had expected. It sounds like a relief of tension – like heavy rainfall after a long dry spell. Stella took a step back, surprised at her passing thought that it sounded attractive. “I am not the boss of this hallowed hall, much to the confusion of most. You are not the only one who assume so. I am merely one of its consultants. Wangsheng caters to all needs, no matter the status, affiliation, or ethnicity. Hence its forthright pursuit for various advisors in order to fulfill any request – for the benefit of the living, and those that have passed.

I myself do my best to be of assistance to any of our customers, when present.”

“That's, uh, nice?” Stella stuttered, utterly speechless. Not because the explanation lacked clarity – it’s actually worded very eloquently – but because this man, this consultant, was still talking to her, despite the lack of eye contact – a discourtesy these types would easily recognize. It was practically beaten into her head that it was a shameful habit, growing up – that no man would want to be her husband if she does not get over it.

Which motivated her more to never want marriage.

She could feel his eyes roving over her face, the path of their focus mostly resting on her cheeks –surprisingly, never straying down. “Indeed. And if I may say so, you seem to need a boost of energy. Or perhaps a good rest. We offer drinks that could assist you with either. If you allow it, I will prepare it to your liking.”

She tucked her head down, not knowing what to say. Not because she felt flattered or embarrassed by the attention of such an attractive-sounding individual.

But... the thing is –

She hates men.

She really, really hates men.

Growing up in a household that treated her more like a prize than a living being, she had no real choice on how to live her life. Powerful men of elevated backgrounds would strut before her, fluttering their clothes made from rare threads to show off their affluence, leering in greed and unwanted desire at her place behind a special dais – layers of gauzy silks the only physical protection she has from their disgusting gazes. But they were never thick enough for her to block out the absolutely dark intentions in their eyes, nor the reverberating hunger in their sleazy words. It made her skin crawl badly every time – feeling phantom insect's feet trail up and down her arms, creeping sludge up her throat, until it claw up to the sensitive skin of her scalp. No matter how much she bathes in scorching hot water after every encounter, skin scrubbed raw and red, she never manages to erase the feeling right away. Only in sleep could she hope to find peace.

If she even could.

They tell her that her feelings were irrelevant. Her treatment – expected. After all, everyone is led to believe she inherited attributes that show she has the blood of those that dwell in the heavens – in the upper universe that human beings could only dream to reach. And thus her body is seen as a sacred vessel, a carrier for future generations to come – perfect beings that would never suffer from mortal wounds, or mortal illnesses. The mother that shall birth the perfect world. You are one being that can propagate, and produce the most flawless humans the world has ever seen. Humans that would become the paragon for everyone else to aspire to! –

Stella scoffed mutely, unfolding her arms, before stepping back into place. That was what her foolish cousin had thought. Had believed. Had obsessed.

He was a brilliant scholar. A specialist of the unknown. And a zealous believer of their family's history and sacred roots. His fixation with perfection is a flaw in and of itself. A selfish desire that eventually led to everyone's death – especially one she held most dear – Selene. Her sister by name, if not by direct blood. The only relative that actually cared for her, that loved her, that protected her when no one else would.

Selene was the one that taught her how to sing – how to hone the beauty in her voice. She taught her how to fight – with a weapon used by an ancestor who fought her fate until the last of her breath.

Selene taught a many great things, especially other skills that would have otherwise been useless if she was still in her own world – a world that pampered her like a sacred idol, with wings clipped short in a gilded cage.

The very memory of Selene dying in her arms serve as a reminder to never be selfish. To be mindful. To remember that even just one person's open hand is enough to live life for.

But, right now, with her muscles straining from holding her stiff position for so long, she is very much in a mindset to defy her own oath.

She really hates men.

But... she's trying not to. She has to not to – for Meilin's sake:

Most of the fishmongers at the harbor are men – Mei loves seafood.

Most of the chefs are men – Mei loves well-cooked food.

All of the guards are men – Mei trusts them to protect their house and harbor.

If not for Mei, Stella would have gone to live as a hermit by now, fishing or hunting for her own meals, cultivate her own harvests, or protect herself from foolish thieves.

For Mei, she will persevere. For Mei, she will try.

But –

She really hates men.

Specifically, this type of man.

Those greedy monsters cloaked in beauty and money. That speak well of culture and knowledge – both useless, and worthless. For it is a mere show of having been educated on knowledge the masses could not afford to have.

Her heart had not skipped a beat because she finds him attractive – she still doesn’t know what he looks like. But from his clothes, his manners, his flowery words, she could only conclude one thing: this is the type of husband her family had wanted. The traditional type that wanted a traditional wife.

Out of all the typical traits that kind of wife should have: bearing many children, many perfect children, was the main goal. All the while she must always be silent, until spoken to. Be obedient without question. And wise enough to know her place – while being the perfect trophy her husband could boast about.

Stella took deep, silent breaths, controlling her thoughts from making her jump to conclusions.

She had to tread carefully with any man in this world. The people at the market were nice enough so far. Respectful of deals, and follows through with their word.

But, she's not blind to the staring – both the subtle, and the obvious.

Her face, unfortunately, is one of the attributes she inherited from their family's progenitor, their beloved ancestor, and it's been described as appealing at worse, and magnificent at best.

But she pays these no mind. Complements are empty words after all. Especially when they find out she can no longer produce children. That's alright. She has long accepted that any who show interest in her, will soon disregard it after they learn of her disability. Traditional men especially, will throw her away.

That's why – although she has her oath for Selene, and a promise for Gran-gran and Mei – she herself could never give an eternal vow to anyone. Not anymore.

Not after what she's done to herself.

But despite her cold aloofness day after day, night after night, this man remained persistent. Kept pestering to cater to her needs, when she made it perfectly clear the Ferrylady was doing a great job of taking care of her already. That he should focus on more important clientele than her.

Unfortunately, it's the sixth day now of Gran-gran's funeral, and she's still being served personally by the stubborn consultant with the alluring voice, who wouldn't stop inquiring if she was able to get a good night's sleep after clearly seeing she isn't. She knows the bags under her eyes are getting darker, and the whites of her eyes turning red with dryness.

It's times like this she misses those blissful sleep of white nothingness – the long morning nap, and the night she and Mei had to camp out before arriving at the harbor. The only explanation for them was the presence of that little guardian that wrapped around her snuggly like a giant tree in its branches – one made out of scales, and gems, and warmth.

Ah. But it isn't a tree, is it? It was a dragon – or so Mei said. A legendary creature that is normally large and serpentine in form and built – either something that brings about disorder and chaos, or something that protects with might and force.

“Good thing Mr. Guardian is the protector type!” Mei had added brightly, even though Stella knew the little girl was extremely disheartened to see it disappear in the distance after escorting them to the edge of Liyue Harbor, fluffy tail flickering in a silent wave.

She will admit to miss its strange, yet comforting presence. The soothing calm she can feel as she stares at its amber eyes – whether out of vexation or gratitude. It would wrap around her like a thick blanket, enveloping her in a warmth she could feel in her bones, and in her heart.

Ah, well. Maybe she'll look to tame one of the strays around the area. See which ones are easy to domesticate. Maybe, one of them would have eyes as gold as Mr. Guardian. Maybe then she'll be able to cuddle up to something and get some much needed sleep.

-{-}-

As the lady continued to fantasize of respite, a lost look entering her eyes, Morax thought now is the right time for a change. Where diplomacy fails, action may succeed.

When her hand moved to subtly rest at her waist, trying to reach her back, and a pained look briefly passed over her expression, he acted – for the first time – without a second thought.

“You have not slept well after I left, have you?”

Morax murmured low, well aware of their audience in the background, but reached out to her nonetheless, touching the tip of her nose, hoping his action would trigger a memory, their memory, together.

He patiently waited for her indignant squeals and sputters to subside, staring steadily at her face until her angry gaze focused back on his.

She turned silent immediately, a great confusion painted her features. Her hand hovered close to his face – no doubt to slap him for his boldness.

The quiet this time was not uncomfortable – it felt very nostalgic, like the thrum of water drops on stone, or the hum of rocks being mined from the earth.

The kind of silence that defined their first meeting, letting her tug him free from her pack, and staring at him with open bewilderment – with awe-filled curiosity set deep in her exquisite eyes.

“...Mr. Guardian?” she uttered, like a secret, both hopeful and afraid. She withdrew her hand to cover her mouth, while her body sagged heavily on her chair.

Sitting still was never a problem, but the want to comfort made his hand ache. He could only smile for now, to acknowledge the charming moniker, and to prevent from startling her further.

Blinking once, she took in his face. Blinking twice, she fisted her hand.

She suddenly covered her eyes, rubbing them incessantly, as if his image burned her physically and she's trying to find relief. He gave in and reached out, holding them still – something he could not do before lest he hurt her with his claws.

When she focused back on him, eyes turning anxious, Morax slowly lifted a third infused cup, carefully wrapped her fingers around it, before slowly letting go. He rested his arms at his sides and turned entirely to her – hoping his body language was open enough for her to let down her guard, just as she always was while he was Exuvia. He noticed her sitting up straight against her chair, eyes asking questions upon questions mutely in the air.

A dull thud from behind them went unnoticed.

“Please. Have a drink. Let it soothe your nerves.

The sea breeze outside will do much good for your head. Let me escort you to where the water meets the wall. And there, we might be afforded better privacy for your questions,” Morax softly besieged. He cut his gaze to the screen behind them, letting his focus rest on it for some time. Nearly silent sets of feet scurried away after a moment.

“Okay,” the lady consented, breaking through his concentration. When Morax gazed back, she took a long, slow sip, seeming to finally savor the tea he served, making him sit a little straighter in his seat. Her eyes softened slowly, and watered as recognition set in, which in turn made him tug at the corner of his lips in relief.

-{-}-

A knock was heard, before the slide of the door reached Meng's ears. “Yahooo. How is she? Have you revived Ferrylady yet?”

“Uhm, I'm afraid not, ma'am. Maybe this is a good thing? It's better if she has her rest for the night,” Meng whispered back, blowing the lantern light out as his co-worker rested heavily on her bed.

The director and undertaker silently went out, walking away from the sleeping quarters as both thought back on the circumstances of the Ferrylady's fainting. “Yeah. Might as well~ Zhongli-xiānsheng certainly put her in quite a shock. I almost saw her spirit escape from her! Too bad it happened before we got to see what our consultant did to make our guest putty in his hands. Looks like that hermit strikes again! At least this time the lady seems like his age – physically I mean – and totally not like his stuffy personality. I like her~” Hu Tao sang, thinking of giving the lady a small discount on the incense she'll need to use tomorrow.

“W-would it really be alright to leave them alone?” Meng asked, nervously pulling at his gloves.

“Hmm? Any concerns I should know about? Oh! Is she one of those pretending to play 'hard to get', but actually wants to snatch Zhongli-xiānsheng for herself~?” Hu Tao asked, fluttering her eyes exaggeratedly.

“No, Hu-zhǔrèn! You got it entirely wrong.”

“Oh?”

Meng furrowed his brow, organizing his thoughts. “From what I heard, as well as my own experience in assisting her, she tends to avoid men. All men. Except maybe the kids and the grandpas. I saw her hand quake once when I accidentally brushed hands with her trying to move her potted plants for her.”

“I didn't think you had it in you. You sly dog~”

“No no no, Hu-zhǔrèn! You misunderstand again!” Meng waved his arms frantically in front on him. “I mean... yes! I'll admit she's very beautiful. A-and she seems considerate, and kind. But she's a little, uhh, too beautiful? Even I know I'm not a good match for her. But her skittish behavior makes me feel like, like scum – like the lowest of the low,” he said dejectedly, shoulders falling. “She makes me feel guilty for even breathing in her space.”

Hu Tao hummed, a finger on her lips, before her brows quirked up in surprise at Meng’s suddenly spirited stance. “A few of the guys at the wharf noticed too, and speculated something must have happened to her. It's really sad to think of the possibilities. But we all talked about it, and agreed to do our best to be gentle in our interactions with her. No touch. Keep a good distance. And watch our words. We don’t want her to feel like we’re boars on the prowl.”

“Wow. Well done, Meng,” whistled Hu Tao, smiling wide.

“E-erm. Thank you?” Meng scratched at his head, face turning red in embarrassment.

“That's the longest I've heard you speak. Ever! I'm so proud of you~ You're not such a pitiful scaredy cat aftercall,” Hu Tao hooted in glee.

“W-what? M-madam...” Meng groaned, head falling down on his chest in dismay.

Hu Tao giggled softly, and changed her carefree stance. She gently patted him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Just kidding~ You really have to lighten up.

But, I didn't lie. What you're doing is very honorable. And even if you're too common for someone like her, I'm sure in time she'll notice and appreciate what you all are doing.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Ugh. I still don't understand the director. I have so much to learn.

“Besiiides. If you guys are honorable already as ordinary citizens, what more someone of Zhongli-xiānsheng's caliber?”

Meng nodded, smiling brightly. “You're absolutely right, ma'am. I should not have doubted his intentions.”

“Maybe by now, he's escorting her home. So let's have faith in our reliable consultant!”

“Yes, ma'am!”

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A/N: Just to clarify, Hu Tao meant Zhongli is such a devastating lady-killer. He just doesn’t know it. And yes, more eye-flirting with these two. Sighs. He has such pretty eyes. Updated again on 04/15/2021 because I’m my own biggest critic.

Gong fu style of serving tea is so mesmerizing to watch. I can see Zhongli do it every time.

Fun fact: In ancient China, yellow tea was indeed considered very rare. And since yellow is the traditional imperial color, only emperors are able to enjoy it. Unless they deem a guest fit to be served the tea - which is considered a high honor.

Zhongli’s rerun banner is coming up sooner than I thought. I should have known Genshin would have a mid-anniversary thing too. Or something like it. I panicked, caved in, and bought the Blessing of the Welkin. His mats are not readyyyy aiyaah

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Follower Tag: @meladollsims

#to be seen #zhongli #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #shapeshifting archon #ferrylady #hu tao #meng #Wangsheng's side business is matchmaking

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