#I shouldn’t even look at her blog every text post she makes hurts I see what I did

[chibelial]

.

[sohya]

call, don't text

pairing : hanma x reader x shion

wc : 3k

contents : obvi reader has the most influence, hanma and shion are just there for her, oral (m receiving), deepthroat, spitting (once), unprotected sex, creampie, hanma and shion spitroast reader, handjob (m to m), one mention of vomit but it doesn't happen, hanma's really embarrassing in this i hate him, kinda rough treatment from him as well

notes : for @kisakunt's she's a maneater collab. if you saw me post this on my old blog no you didn't this is my only blog wdym.

weeks of unanswered text shouldn’t bother hanma as much as it does. considering he’s done it to women who expected too much, or for the simple fact that they slipped his mind after finding someone new at one of the eccentric clubs in roppongi.

but when he catches himself backspacing another message inviting, or rather asking, you to come over, he realises he’s lost the pride he accumulated over having so many girls hungry for his dick. so many but you, apparently.

hanma barely had the attention span or interest for someone to catch his eye like you had. getting you to the closest private space was a breeze and the way you moaned his name each time you climaxed around his cock quickly engraved itself into his mind like a core memory. the next time he invited you over had been less than satisfying and hanma would usually drop them at that stage but he ached to hear you moan his name and stare into your glossy eyes again just like he had the first time. the image in his head was still there, but seeing it again won’t hurt him more than his unanswered texts do.

the last of his cigarette burns out and with a quick nip at the stick, his fingers reach up to pluck it from his lips before dropping it to the ground with his heavy boot stomping over it to put it out properly. when he looks back up, he sees a familiar mop of hair flowing in the wind across the street from him. images of his hands tugging on your hair appear in his head and with a quick turn of the head, he realises it was you.

but something stirs inside him when your figure skips up to man, the hair folded over his head to the right exposes the lion tattoo across his temple. which gives hanma a name to the man’s identity, shion madarame. they’re nothing more than acquaintances who run through the same clubs every now and then. he might even fall in the same line of work as shion, but he doesn’t care. not when his mind’s occupied on why you seem to be closer to shion than you are with him. your hands wrap around shion’s arm and he looks down at you with a smile that looks so adoring that hanma can’t help but feel like there is something exclusive between the two of you. is this really who you’ve been blowing him over for? it’s not jealousy, but the heavy feeling that continues to grow in hanma’s chest has him striding across the street over to you before he can stop himself.

you make eye contact with him when a car honks at his reckless decision to cross the street without looking both ways. both you and shion looking at him expectantly when he stands in front of you and he almost feels stupid because he really doesn’t know what to say. he can feel shion staring at him, probably trying to put a name to his face and it only takes a few more seconds before a clap of his hands disrupt the silence. “shuji! hanma shuji, right?” he asks, lips spread widely into a toothy grin.

hanma’s little habit returns as he tucks his thumb into his fist to crack the joint as he ignores shion’s entire existence. “does your boyfriend know you fuck me behind his back?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. not even a ‘hey’ or ‘you look familiar’, which is what he would usually ask to people who weren’t you.

an amused grin spreads on your lips after the brief look of shock before sweet, melodic laughter falls through your lips. your eyes flutter shut as your fingers rest over your lips to stifle your laugh before you regain yourself and turn to look at the man beside you, who only has an amused expression matching yours.

“wanna tell him, babe?” he asks and his voice is smooth, but there’s a little strain to it that hints at him being a smoker as well or just someone with an abnormally loud voice.

you nod at his words before you turn back to hanma and the height difference between you and him forces you to lift yourself up onto your tippy toes while your hand curls around the back of his neck to pull his head down and lock his lips with yours. on instinct, he returns the kiss, letting your tongue move against his lips before forcing its way into his mouth. you lick around his tongue before a light hum vibrates against his lips from your mouth.

you pull away sooner than he’d like, already missing the feeling of your soft lips against his. but he’s able to stop himself from chasing after you and ruining his image even further. your hand stays wrapped around the back of his neck while your other smooths the fabric of his white t-shirt over his chest.

“he’s not my boyfriend, hanma.” you tell him as your perfectly manicured finger pinches away an imaginary piece of lint from his shirt. he’s relieved but he has half a mind to walk away or divert the conversation. anything to avoid embarrassing himself even further while he can only hope it doesn’t show on his face. his hands busy themselves with pulling another cigarette from the box in his back pocket and after slipping it in between his lips, he feels a little better.

“you jealous or somethin’, shuji?” shion speaks up as he steps closer to the two of you, one hand curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. “you want this sweet cunt all to yourself, is that it?” hanma watches as your expression changes into something flustered when shion’s hand travels down to cup your mound through your denim shorts and a soft mewl falls from your lips when his hand applies pressure, pivoting slightly and creating friction that has you aching for shion. both shion and hanma, now that the extra company was watching intently with interest that shows in the growing erection in his jeans.

“shion.” you mumble as your hands fall off hanma’s figure to grasp at shion’s wrist, his hand still palming at your crotch. “can we go back to my place?” the envious feelings returns in hanma’s bones when you ask that. not that he should complain, given he’s always asked you to come to him, but the thought that shion has fucked you in your own bed, is something he wishes he had.

“‘course. let’s go.” shion’s hand moves from between your legs to your hands and hanma feels like he’s lost you again when you turn to follow after him. but he’s caught by surprise when your hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him along with you.

“you’ll join us right, hanma?” your eyes are closed and arched, smiling just as wide as what you have on your lips and hanma can’t say no, even if he wanted to. but he’s been waiting for another taste of you for weeks, other girls don’t satisfy him like you do and he’d be an idiot to let this chance pass. so he doesn’t.

if he thought two weeks of dry replies and sent but not read messages were hell, what was happening now could easily top that.

he thought the sight of shion with his cock sliding down your throat while you moan and gag lewdly around him would arouse hanma to the point where it hurt. but when you and shion play along to hanma’s mistake from earlier; mistaking shion as your boyfriend, he wants nothing more than to zip his dick back into his pants and leave your dreaded apartment and the situation he was in right now.

“you seeing this, shuji?” shion asks through painted breaths as he squeezes your throat, tightening your walls around his cock and eliciting a long moan from you. “her throat only does this for me, doesn’t it babe?” his eyes divert from hanma, who’s sitting in between your legs and lazily rubbing your cunt through your soaked panties.

you hum a sound of approval to the best of your ability, but still gargle as you lose composure at the sudden question. “her throat’s only as tight and wet as it is when it’s my cock down there, hm?” his hips draw back and hanma thinks he’s letting you get the chance to breathe but he only slams his hips forward to fill your throat up once again. what’s even hotter is that you don’t even falter, mewling in delight as your fingers display your gratitude with a pinch to your perked nipples.

“you ever get this lucky with her, or does she only give you that messy cunt of hers?” hanma doesn’t know if shion’s aware of the death glare being stared into him, but as much as hanma hates it, he completely understands. you’ve never let hanma anywhere near your mouth. he’s eaten you out multiple times. sucked his and your mixed cum out of your hole so many times, hoping you’d give him the pleasure of your tight throat on his dick, but you’ve always said no. and as shitty as hanma can be, he doesn’t push it, always assuming it was just you and your inability to take something as big as him in your mouth.

but seeing shion seconds away from filling your throat with his seed, he realises he’s been played, by you of all people. and it’s even worse now that you and shion find amusement in this with the terms of endearment and shion bragging about the many things you and shion have done that you turned hanma down for.

“shut up and move back.” hanma grits his teeth as he rises to his knees and pushes hanma back, watching the bulge in your throat disappear when shion’s cock slips out. you barely get the chance to pout at the feeling of your throat being so empty before hanma’s replacing shion’s position, head of his cock pressing against your closed lips.

“shion.” your bottom lips juts out even more if possible as your eyes scan to look for the other male. “he was gonna cum, hanma. you ruined it.”

hanma stares down at you in shock which quickly dissolves into embarrassment as he’s nudged to the side. he watches as you happily take shion’s cock down your mouth once more. exaggerated sounds of wet glug glug glug’s fill the room up while your eyes water with every deep push of shion’s hips against your face.

“you’ll get your turn soon, shuji. she’s the one that makes all the rules.” shion grunts before he looks down at you once more. his hands curl around your throat and presses himself deep inside you. “ready to take my cum, baby?”

you shake your head as you push shion’s hips back and he falters slightly but obliges. he has a frown on his lips as his orgasm slowly dissipates. “hanma.” you rasp out as you try to even your breath and hanma looks down at you curiously. “finish him off. make him cum on my tongue.”

he barely has the chance to question your words because shion’s one step ahead of him, grabbing hanma’s wrist and guiding his hand to his wet cock. “c’mon. just do it. it’s the only way you’ll get what you want.” he hates how easily he wants to win by you so he does. fingers wrap around shion’s wet and hard length, pumping from base to tip with the head pointed down towards your open mouth. it only takes three jerks before white ribbons shoot from shion’s tip and into your mouth, painting the roof of your mouth and your tongue with his seed. whatever misses and lands on your cheek or the side of your mouth is pushed back into your cavern with your fingers before your lips around the same digits and you’re looking up at the two men with fluttering eyelashes and hearts in your eyes.

“you’re both so good to me.” you sigh as you roll over before rising up to your knees to wrap an arm around both their shoulders. hanma’s hand acts on instinct as he holds onto your waist to balance your wobbly figure while shion’s stay by his side. you plant a wet kiss on both their cheeks before you look at hanma. “you want my mouth so bad that you’re willing to touch another guy’s dick for me.” you giggle and it’s obnoxious but hanma never wants you to shut up.

“i’ll suck your dick for you for that.” you grin before shuffling back and looking at shion once more. “and you. fuck me?” neither of them need to be told twice, wanting nothing more than to give you what you want as you present yourself on all fours.

your face nuzzles against hanma’s stomach, the hair of his happy trail tickling the soft skin of your cheek while shion presses his tip against your clenching hole from behind. you hum softly as shion lets a line of spit drip from the tip of his tongue onto your hole before his fingers push the lubrication inside. you feel him press his fat tip against your hole and after the initial pop of it falling in, a quick strong thrust of his hips is all it takes before he fully bottoms out inside of you, the dull head of his cock pressing into your cervix. your walls clench tightly around him as hanma forces your mouth open with a pinch of your chin before pressing his cock into your mouth, making you feel full from both ends.

you easily take half of his cock immediately and hanma loses his patience very fast. his hands find the back of your head and with one final look in your eyes, he pushes your head down while his hips jerk up and meets your face halfway. he barely has the time to check if you’re at your limit before he’s pulling his hips back and forcing his cock back down past your tonsils and into your throat.

“god, fuck. just like that.” hanma looks down as he pulls his hips back to let you breathe, but you’re pivoting forward with every harsh thrust shion’s delivering you and the sound of his hips slamming against your ass fills the room. but that’s not want hanma wants. the room’s too quiet of your gags and gargled moans and he’s willing to fix that. his cock fills up your mouth nice and easy and he’s trying to hold back his frustrations that’s accumulating at the thought that you’ve been holding off this throat from him. he wants to make it last but make the most of it at the same time.

“throat’s so fucking tight, shit.” he hisses in disbelief as he bundles up your hair in one fist and tugs your head upwards with the other hand cupped under your chin so you can look up at him. the glossy look in your eyes that he’s missed looking at is back and he could almost swear he’s in love.

“isn’t it?” shion pipes up and hanma uses all the self control he can muster to not show his annoyance at the reminder of the extra company. “you gonna let him use that throat again, baby? or is this just a one time thing?” he asks before punctuating his sentence with a particularly hard thrust that drives hanma’s cock further down your throat.

the tears spill down your cheeks at that point as you gag hopelessly around hanma’s length. he hisses as your throat constricts around him even tighter, eyebrows scrunching together as he feels his orgasm building up. “don’t fuckin’ do that. i won’t last.” he warns shion. but shion doesn’t listen because he knows you don’t want him to and he snaps his hips against you once more, making you almost hurl your last meal around hanma’s cock, before he stills.

“fuck, she’s cumming.” shion groans as he slows his pace down and helps you ride out your high, only picking up the pace when small noises leave your mouth at the oversensitivity.

“already?” hanma can’t help but ask, wanting to feel like he has the upper hand that he lost in that two week period, and you let him have it, just because the feeling of two cocks abusing your mouth and pussy is too good of a feeling for you to form any coherent thoughts.

you flutter your eyelashes back up at hanma, eyes begging him to shoot his load down your throat when you can feel his rhythm slipping and his cock unceremoniously twitch inside your mouth. “you want me to cum, hm? want me to fi- fuuckk.” he talks too much and it only takes one swallow around his shaft before he loses his composure and squirts his seed down your throat. what lands on your tongue tastes tangy and slightly salty but you find yourself enjoying the taste.

shion only cums a beat later after hanma pulls out. low groans fill the room from behind and in front of you as you kitten lick the mess off the tip of hanma’s cock. the extra clenches of your walls helps milk shion’s orgasm out as he fills you up. you fall to the bed once you lose the support of shion’s hands on your hips keeping you up while a contented sigh is huffed out through your lips.

the clean up after that is a breeze, having the both of them do the most and cleaning themeselves and you up. once the three of you are clean enough, they follow your lead in climbing under your heavy quilt with nothing on your naked body. you’re sandwiched between the two of them and it’s warm enough that you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“if you want to see me again, hanma.” you tell him as you turn your body to the side to properly face him. “don’t text me.”

“you text her?” shion laughs. “rookie move. should call her instead. she hates typing, says it makes her think too much.”

you ignore the jab from shion as you look at hanma with a dopey smile. “but he’s right. call me and i’ll do more than just suck you off.”

network tags : @planetonet @tokyoredlightdistrict

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Baby Talk - Elias Pettersson

This is from my old blog (oh-holy-alien). there is smut here.

Elias swore when he left on this road trip things had been fine between the two of you. In fact, you had driven him to the airport and even kissed him hard enough to leave him dazed as he met up with the team in the airport lounge. That was a week ago and he’d only heard from you once. You declined all of his FaceTime requests opting to barely talk on the phone instead. His texts only illicit the simplest of responses from you.

He was getting worried, and when he was worried he did the one thing that always proved to be a good idea: stalk your social media. Elias loved to see the pictures you posted whenever he was gone. You had gone with the rest of the Canucks’ WAGs to the annual Vancouver Christmas fair and you had still been wearing your engagement ring, so he took that as a positive. He’s laid out on the bed of his hotel room, your instagram open on his laptop and your snapchat story playing over and over on his phone.

“I told you he’d be here doing exactly this, you owe me ten bucks Boeser.” Troy gloats as he, Brock and Quinn peak in through the door of the adjoining room.

“I don’t think we bet on that, Troy and I’m pretty sure Quinn was the one who said he was in here internet stalking his fiancée.” Brock replies, annoyed as he plops down on the bed beside Elias. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to see if she’s okay. I’m worried there’s something going on but she hasn’t told me.” Elias says shutting his laptop.

“She called you earlier and sounded fine.” Quinn just rolls his eyes at Elias’s behaviour, more than used to him doing this.

“Why don’t we go out for a bit? Take your mind off of it?” Troy asked eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Fine, but we’re not doing what Troy suggests. I still have glitter in places it shouldn’t be from that weird ass strip club he took us to in Philly.” Elias snickers, remembering how you had come to pick them up from the airport three nights after the night in Philly and how he, Quinn and Brock had covered your car in glitter.

“Why does Elias have that look in his eye?” A confused Troy has joined Brock and Quinn at the adjoining room’s door.

“Let’s get out of here before he checks her snapchat story again, Troy grab Petey’s phone from him and don’t give it back.” Brock directs as he jumps off the hotel bed and grabs his shoes.

Your week had been no picnic. The moment you’d left your fiancé at the airport, you felt like he had taken you with him.

The other WAGs had tried to keep you occupied and not thinking of him but you couldn’t seem to control your emotions, resulting in not passionately writing text responses to your love. It physically hurt you to think about how much you miss him.

To make matters worse, you’d been getting sick every morning and couldn’t even keep down your favourite breakfast food. It had been really awkward when the girls had taken you for brunch this morning and the moment Emma Stecher brought you into your house, you’d thrown up. She held your hair up and rubbed your back soothingly.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” She asked as you brushed your teeth.

“I’m not sure, I’ve been sick every day since Elias left. It’s probably nothing.” You insist, tucking your toothbrush in the holder. You stare at Emma’s reflection in the mirror, puzzled as she stares back at you assessing something.

“When was your last period?” Her eyebrow is raised as she looks pointedly at your stomach.

“Um, maybe a month and a half ago- oh,” you pause as you realize what she means, “You think I might be pregnant?”

“There’s no harm in taking a test or two. I’ll grab my purse and take you to the nearest pharmacy.” Emma reassures as she leaves the room.

She’s loaded you, shoved would be a better word to describe how she got you out of the house and into the car before you can even fully process where she’s taking you and why. Emma turns on the radio and drives you to the nearest Pharmasave. Once again, she pulls you into the store and very indiscreetly towards the family planning section.

You stand back as she examines the pregnancy tests, your head is still racing thinking about the fact that you may be carrying a child within you. Emma pushes three boxes into your hands.

“These should do it, I know for sure that two of these brands are the ones that Holly and Bo used when they were trying to figure out if she was pregnant. Hopefully, they work for you.” Emma is practically giddy as she checks her phone.

“You do know how pregnancy tests work right, Emma?” You ask, finally regaining your voice. “They work the same for everyone.”

Emma rolls her eyes and pulls you towards the cashier, you place the three boxes in front of the young-looking male cashier. He looks at the tests, then between you and Emma confused.

“I’m sorry, are you judging us for buying pregnancy tests? That’s not cool dude. Do your job and don’t judge.” Emma barks at the cashier.

He quickened his pace, mumbling the total to you. You tap your debit card on the card reader and take the bag from the young male who would no longer make eye contact with you.

The drive back to your place is quiet, Emma is humming to the radio but never starts a conversation with you.

Emma parks on the street outside of your house. She turns to you before turning off the car.

“Do you want me to stay with you while you take the tests?” She asks, ready to take her seatbelt off.

“I think I’ll be okay to take them by myself, Elias will be home tonight so I should be okay. Thank you for everything, Emma.” You give her a slight smile and a side hug before collecting your shopping bag and getting out of the car.

You had slammed at least three cups of water before heading into the bathroom and opening up the three tests.

You figured you would send a text to Elias while you waited for the tests to be ready. You needed to explain yourself to your fiancé.

To Petey 💞: hi baby. looking forward to seeing you tonight. I'm sorry i’ve been absent this week, really missing you and it hurts. love you so much, EP.

It’s a quick reply from your fiancé.

From Petey 💞: all good, baby. missed you too. just glad you’re alright. see you tonight, pretty girl 😘

The instant reply from him reassures you. The alarm on your phone startles the crap out of you, the pregnancy test results are ready.

As you re-enter the bathroom, the sight of the tests lined up on the counter makes you nervous. You push yourself hard to pick them up one by one. The first reads negative, but that doesn’t reassure you quite yet. The second test also reads negative, making things a little less tense. Your body begins to relax as you pick up the third and final test. Negative, it reads negative. You’re not pregnant.

You feel relieved and yet there’s a part somewhere deep inside that feels sad. It’s bizarre, you want to be happy that you can still be young and wild and free but still some part of you was longing to carry a child. You weren’t anywhere near the time where your metaphorical biological clock was ticking, and sure you wanted kids but you felt too young.

The front door opening breaks you from your slight melancholy. A bag is placed down in the front hallway and somebody’s shoes are removed and placed on the floor.

“Älskling? Baby? Where are you?” Elias yells, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“‘Lias!” You’ve raced down the stairs to meet him in the hall.

He stands straight up and braces himself as you jump into his arms. You tighten your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, inhaling his scent as you bury your face into his shoulder.

“Missed you, don’t like sharing hotel rooms with Brock. He snores.” Elias has his hands around your waist, holding you nearly as tight as the grip you have on him.

“Missed you too.” You mumble into his sweater.

He’s wearing the red sweater that you adore on him. Your head lifts out of the junction of his neck and you look at his face closely. He’s grown some facial hair and his eyes seem brighter now that they’re looking at you. His lips appear plumper and even redder, they look full and pouty. You can’t help but bite your own as you stare at his pretty lips.

“Don’t bite your lip, baby. You know what that does to me, älskling.” His voice causes you to refocus your attention on his eyes.

Elias is smirking down at you. It’s clear you’ve been caught staring at your man.

“Well, Mr. Pettersson are you going to kiss me or not?” You play sly and return his smirk.

His lips are pressed against yours before you can even react. His hands trail down to your ass and squeeze, getting a moan out of you. He seized the opportunity of your mouth open slightly to stick his tongue in your mouth. Your tongue automatically comes out to meet his, a Pavlovian response almost. Your arms around his neck move to pull him closer, hands going to pull on his hair. You’re absolutely lost in the little world Elias has you pulled into. He pulls away slightly, which you’re thankful for because you had forgotten how to breathe, too wrapped up in a world where you and him were the only two in the world. You attempt to chase his lips again after adequately catching your breath. But he pulls away.

“We’ll continue later okay? Wanna put my stuff away.” He kisses your forehead.

He places you on the ground much to your disappointment. He takes a step away from you and towards his stuff left at the door. Elias laughs while you groan and pout. He turns to grab his suitcase, his other hand grabbing your hand in his own.

He sits you down on the bed as he places the suitcase beside you open. He starts by removing his shirts and hanging them back up in the walk-in closet. He tells you all about the road trip, from games to dressing room shenanigans to the trip they took to the baseball game to get his mind off of you.

The last thing in his suitcase is his toiletries bag. He removes it from his suitcase and puts the suitcase in its designated spot in the closet. He presses a kiss to your forehead before making his way into the bathroom to unload his toiletries.

You pull your laptop into your lap to look at takeout options for dinner, a tradition for Elias’s first night home after a road trip that had begun when you first started dating.

“Babe? Can you come here?” Elias yells from the bathroom.

You can’t tell the tone of his voice and you’re confused as to why he’s calling you. But you get up and make your way to him.

When you enter the bathroom, you realize that he’s holding one of the pregnancy tests. Your eyes widen and the blood leaves your face.

“Um well. I thought I was pregnant, so Emma took me to get some tests and well they were negative.” You can’t look him in the eye, you don’t know how he’ll react.

“Älskling, baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Elias steps closer to you, voice quivering.

“I wasn’t sure how you would feel and I didn’t even realize until Emma pointed it out today.” You’ve started sobbing now.

“Why are you crying, baby? It’s okay.” Elias has wrapped you in his arms now, rubbing your back as you sob into his shoulder.

“I didn’t know if you would even want kids with me.” You’re positive you are a mess right now.

“Of course I want children with you, Y/N. Baby, I’m actually kind of upset it’s negative.” Elias whispers to you to calm you down.

“What?” You’re puzzled.

“I want a baby, I want a baby now, with you.” Elias smiles.

“Okay.” You sniffle.

“Why don’t we get our take-out and we can talk more about this after?” Elias begins to lead you out of the bathroom.

The take-out had long been finished, you were cuddled into Elias’s side on the couch as Friends played for what seemed like the billionth time. Your eyes are drawn from where they’re lazily stuck on the TV to Elias whose staring down at you. Your head barely lifts from his chest to meet his eyes.

“What are you staring at, handsome?” You drawl out, exhausted.

He smiles at how cute you are when you’re tired. “I was being serious earlier when I said I wanted a baby with you right now.”

“Are you sure, Elias?” You ask, hoping he truly means it.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, well except for asking you to marry me. I want to start our future now. I want a mini-you or a mini-me running around.” The look in his eyes is so sincere that you can’t help but smile at his passion.

“Let’s have a baby.” You smile.

You’ve never seen Elias move so quickly. He was up off the couch in a flash, nearly throwing you to the ground. He’s quick to steady you, pulling you flush against him.

He brings his hands to cup your cheeks, one of his thumbs brushing over your lips.

“‘Lias, do something please.” You whine, needy and impatient.

There’s a smirk evident on his face as he lifts you by your hips. He holds you at his, his erection pushing into your stomach.

Elias’s face dips down and his lips are on yours in an instant. It’s a feverish frenzy as his hands slide to your ass and yours find themselves in his hair. He continues to grind himself into you, squeezing your ass at the same time.

The friction against your hip and his hands on your ass is too much, as you squirm in his hold. Trying to get your tongue in his mouth, you pull his head closer to you with your hands in his hair.

He pulls away briefly. “Upstairs?” Elias asks, catching his breath.

You nod, so he hoists you up higher in his arms and begins to take the stairs two at a time. You can tell he’s eager to have you, he throws you on the bed the moment you make it to the bedroom. He eagerly chases you you the bed and begins to strip the close off of you. He’s busy pressing kisses to your lips and skin between taking your clothes off.

“Hey there, why am I naked, if you’re still fully dressed.” You pause his movement to point out the inequality of the situation.

Elias just smirks before pulling his shirt over his head. “Better, älskling?”

His lips start to trail up your thighs, kissing sweetly until he reaches your pussy. He smirks, stop before he gets to the area you need him most. Elias is pushing his boundaries, not even getting you near the edge, just worked up enough to want it badly.

“Elias please.” You feel like you’re on fire and he just keeps lighting you up to ignite other parts of you.

“What do you need, angel?” Elias’s voice has lowered a whole octave.

The scene before you is too much, you need him so badly and he’s not giving you what you need.

“Anything please, ‘Lias.” Your hands try to grab at him but he moves too quickly away from you.

“Need you to be more specific, love.” Elias stands at the foot of the bed, peeling his pants off. He cups his groin, squeezing slightly as he watches you writhe on the bed, needy and wanton for him and only him.

“Want your mouth, hand or cock. Don’t care just need something now.” The words are barely audible when they leave your mouth, but Elias hears you nonetheless.

He smirks and crawls back onto the bed, his body lays in between your legs. His head is right near your centre and his arms come up to hold your hips down as his tongue delves inside you.

One hand moves from your hip down to your clit and begins playing with the nub. You can’t help but mewl as he begins to tongue fuck you faster. He’s spelling his name with his tongue, something he does often. The angles his tongue reaches cause your hands to grab the sheets, your knuckles so tightly wrung in them they go white. Your back arches as his tongue finds that deep spot that drives you crazy.

His name is falling out of your mouth like it’s the only word you know. His blond hair is falling in his face and you can’t help but let the tightness in your belly uncoil as he eats you through an orgasm.

Elias pulls away smirking, his lips are slick with your cum. “Feel good, älskling?” He’s too cocky right now and you can’t get enough.

You push him down to the bed, seizing the opportunity of him being distracted by your breathless pleasure. You pull down his boxers and happily grab his cock as it bounces out, mouth moving to envelop the head.

“Baby, no.” Elias stops you before you can.

You pout a little, his cock still in your hand.

“Wanna cum in you.” Elias moans, your hand squeezing around him as you work your wrist in a flicking motion.

He flips you over before you can resist, your hand leaves his cock to brace yourself as you hit the mattress. He smirks, bringing his body on top of yours. Elias’s cock rests at your pussy entrance. He grabs one of your legs to hoist over his shoulder.

He enters you in a swift motion, moaning as he does.

“Fuck älskling, you’re so tight. Fit around my cock so perfectly.” He groans, stilling himself so you can adjust to his size.

You can’t help but moan, your hands wrap around his neck to pull his head to yours. Your lips press against his, bringing you closer to him in the moment.

You pull your lips away from his briefly, he still hasn’t moved. “Elias move, please. Need you to fuck me. Fill me up with your cum. Give me a baby.”

A switch goes off in Elias and he begins to thrust into you, slowly. His one hand covers your boob, squeezing it and flicking at the nipple. He begins to thrust faster as you tighten around his cock. He’s deep enough you can feel his cock press against your belly.

Elias smirks as you begin to thrust yourself to meet his hips, getting a deeper angle and hitting your g-spot perfectly.

“Holy shit Y/N, you feel so good. Going to cum inside you. Fill you with my seed. Get you all-round and pregnant. Oh, fuck.” Elias begins to thrust harder, your hands pulling at his hair.

All you can feel is bliss, Elias’s cock is gliding in and out of you perfectly, the hand on your tit is sensuous and bringing more pleasure to your already fulfilled body. You can’t control it as your second orgasm crashes through your body.

Elias is getting close as his thrusts begin to get sloppy, you clench around him a couple more times to help him get there.

He cums with a loud yell, carefully taking your leg off his shoulder.

“Elias, will you stay in me?” You ask in a soft voice, not wanting the warmth his cock provides to leave you.

He nods and rotates you both to a comfortable sleeping position as you both drift off into a deep sleep.

This would be the first of many condomless nights.

Ten months later, you’re sitting in a hospital room, a blue bundle cuddled to your chest.

Elias sits happily in the seat next to your bed, his wedding ring glinting under the hospital lights. His eyes are only on you and the baby you hold.

You are so thankful for the man on your right. Elias had been an angel during labour. He held your hand, he brought you ice chips, he took all your swearing and name-calling with a grain of salt, and he was more supportive than any other father the nurses had seen.

“You did so well, babe. Look at our little guy. He’s perfect. Thank you.” Elias leans over you once again to kiss your forehead for probably the millionth time today.

Elias’s finger goes to stroke the cheek of the tiny boy.

“He’s really perfect. He’s got your eyes.” You smile at your husband.

“He’s gorgeous, I’m absolutely in love with him,” Elias smiles, eyes not leaving the baby. “When can we have another?”

You just laugh as you cuddle the baby closer.

[flowesona]

picture perfect - yandere! kihyun x f! reader

a/n: i know i don’t normally post monsta x content on this blog, but i enjoyed writing this fic and wanted to share it here without the feeling of guilt that comes with posting a non-request on the joint blog! please let me know if you like it :>

warning: stalking, abuse and suicidal allusions

The strap of his camera bag weighed on his shoulder, but not nearly as heavily as it did on his conscience. Yet he had no choice but to comply - with the threat of losing his scholarship on the line, he was putty in the hands of his psychotic professor, who’d sent him on the ‘mission’ to stalk his ex-wife. 

His musings on the morality of what he was doing were cut short as he heard the front door of the house he was observing open and close. There she was. 

Kihyun raised the camera and snapped a few pictures, capturing the flush faced woman as she walked out onto the drive. A young girl was in her arms, swaddled in a warm coat as her mother opened the car and tucked her into a car seat. 

She had a child. As if she was dead-set on making Kihyun feel awful. Still, he persisted in taking the photograph from his hiding spot, hoping the camera wasn’t too loud. Luckily, the woman was too occupied with taking care of her daughter to pay attention and soon enough she was climbing into the driver’s side of the car and leaving. 

He gazed after her, still rooted to the spot even though his job was done. When he snapped out of his daze he pulled out his phone and texted his boss of sorts, who immediately asked to meet him in the red room for a ‘friendly chat’. 

“There wasn’t anyone else there, right?” Junho asked, having snatched the camera out of Kihyun’s hands the second he arrived.

“No sir, just the woman and her child.” Kihyun confirmed, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

“I’d prefer a clearer angle next time. This feels a bit distant.” His professor commented. “I’ll give your camera back once I have these printed.”

“Wait, n-next time?” 

“Yes. You need to do this until we’re back together, understood?” Junho snapped.

“Sir, I can’t do that!” Kihyun protested, only for Junho to approach him in such an intimidating manner that he found himself backing up.

“I guess this scholarship really doesn’t matter to you, then. A shame.” The professor tutted. “And how disappointed your parents will be when they find out the reason you were kicked out of photography school was stalking a poor innocent woman.”

Kihyun felt his heart drop to his stomach as Junho gave him a seemingly friendly pat on the shoulder. 

“I’ll see you this afternoon for my lecture, correct?”

The student just nodded numbly. 

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The neighbourhood was quiet at night, only the occasional hooting of owls breaking the silence. The blackened streets only lit by a few street lamps provided a cover for Kihyun, dressed in all black with a key clutched between his fingers.

‘She’ll be asleep by 10PM, she has to work late on a thursday so she can never stay up late.’ The words of Junho lingered in his mind as he slipped the key into the keyhole and the front door creaked open. ‘Besides, she never remembers to lock the door. That’s always my responsibility.’ 

The first thing he noticed was that the house clearly needed an extra pair of hands. There were cobwebs in the corners, and the floor was littered with unorganised toys and shoes.

But that wasn’t his purpose. He was there with a mission: a sick, illegal one at that, but something he had to do nonetheless to preserve his chances of success in the future. He found his target quickly and quietly, pushing open the bedroom door cautiously to see the sleeping woman.

Kihyun could almost understand how Junho was so obsessed with her. She looked simply ethereal splayed out, fast asleep. 

He raised his camera up and snapped a picture of her from the doorway, before advancing into the room. Every step closer only made his heart race more, from dread of what could happen if he was caught but also the minor crush he was developing on the older woman.

It was just as he was getting a close up that there was a small knock at the door, just barely audible. Then, before Kihyun could even think to hide, it was pushed open to reveal a small figure silhouetted by the light from the hallway that had inexplicably turned on.

“Mommy?”

The woman in question groaned, creeping open her eyes. The figure dressed in all black standing over her was unmissable. She let out a shrill shriek, falling out of the bed and scrambling to the doorway to grab her daughter.

“Who the hell are you?” She screamed. “Get out of my house!”

“I-I-I…” Kihyun struggled to come up with an answer, his brain clouded. He’d planned an answer beforehand in case this happened - he’d simply gaslight her into thinking it was a dream - but at that moment his mind was fuzzy.

“Get out, before I call the police!” The woman screamed again.

“Please… you have to understand…” He stuttered. “Can I just explain?”

“What could you possibly have to explain?” She snarled back, holding her daughter closer to her chest.

“I’m not here of my own accord. Please, don’t call the police and I’ll explain everything. I swear on my life I would never hurt either of you.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Get talking.”

Kihyun gulped, before taking a breath in and explaining it all.

“Your ex-husband is my photography professor. He’s blackmailing me to essentially stalk you, to take photos of you for his “collection”. If I don’t do it, he says I’m going to lose my scholarship, and I can’t just let that happen. I’m really sorry for all the distress I’ve caused, but please don’t ruin my life because of it.” 

The woman sighed, but visibly relaxed. 

“Almost sounds believable.”

She put her daughter down. 

“Go to your room honey. Go back to sleep, okay?”

The young girl nodded and plodded off. 

“We should talk.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

A half empty glass of sherry was nursed between (Y/N)’s fingers, but Kihyun’s remained untouched. 

“I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of my relationship.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s all because of that power-abusing bastard.” Kihyun attempted to comfort her. They’d spent the last half hour giving a brief recounting of their lives, a mellowing experience for the both of them.

“I mean, clearly you’ve got talent, and I would hate to see that go to waste because of me.” (Y/N) sighed, taking another sip of the alcohol to soothe her woes. “I guess you can just continue doing this. He’s just way too smart to break his restraining order and get arrested.”

“Are you sure? I hate invading your privacy, especially now that I know you.” It made Kihyun’s heart ache to even think of being such a creep to the kind-hearted woman.

(Y/N) out and took one of his hands into her own. 

“You’re such a sweet guy, Kihyun. Do you have a girlfriend?”

He felt his face heat up, not quite wanting to admit how the only woman who he was remotely interested in was her.

She chuckled seeing his expression.

“Well, you’re always free to get a drink with me. Or we can have something more, if you’re interested.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Minji loved Kihyun. Whenever he visited after his work for the day was done, she would be waiting by the door with a puzzle she’d picked out for them to do together. (Y/N) would always make them tea as Kihyun entertained her daughter by helping her sort out the puzzle pieces so that they could do the edges. Then they would sit together, the perfect picture of domesticity as Minji talked excitedly about nothing in particular and (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder and slowly drifted to sleep. He’d leave the dozing (Y/N) and energetic Minji alone as he cooked them supper, often with Minji by his side asking questions about everything he was doing.

There hadn’t been one moment when he’d asked (Y/N) out, or vice versa. Things just fell into place, and there was such a warm feeling Kihyun got as a new part of the family that he almost forgot about his responsibilities. Having to take photos of (Y/N) as if she was a stranger jarred him, when he’d taken to capturing more intimate photos on his phone, saved for the mornings where he didn’t want to get out of bed. 

Kihyun knew he was falling for (Y/N), deeply. It was dangerous knowing his scholarship was on the line and one fuck up could ruin his career permenantly. 

One day, as Kihyun was helping Minji with her homework as (Y/N) was doing the laundry, the phone rang. 

“I’ll get it.” (Y/N) sighed, letting the iron rest as she reached for the landline. “Hello?”

There was a pause as Kihyun paid no mind to it, quietly pointing out where Minji had made a mistake.

“Junho?” Kihyun froze. Surely he wasn’t going to make a move, surely he wasn’t going to win over (Y/N).

“I’m busy actually, so if you could leave me be-”

Minji smacked the arm of the out-of-focus Kihyun.

“Kihyun, what does this word mean?” She whined loudly, giving him her biggest puppy dog eyes to try and draw him back.

It stayed silent as Junho spoke to (Y/N) down the phone.

“No, you must be hearing things. She’s just reading to herself.” (Y/N) stuttered, and it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice down Kihyun’s back.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” She finally snapped back. “Go to hell, and stay away from my family.” 

(Y/N) slammed the phone down and let out a huge sigh, her breathing having quickened. Kihyun quickly abandoned the english homework and took the shaking mother into his arms, letting her sob into his chest. 

“He knows, he knows. This is a nightmare, he’s going to ruin your career, he’s going to-” 

“Shhhh.” Kihyun held her just a bit tighter, feeling the same fear dwelling in his stomach but quashing it so that he could be strong for her.

“I’m so sorry, I should have never initiated anything between us.” (Y/N) continued to cry, but Kihyun shook his head.

“I wouldn’t exchange you for anything, not even my career.” He smiled. “I’ll sort this all out, don’t you worry.”

The young man saw over (Y/N)’s shoulder the crestfallen face of Minji staring at the couple, and he removed one of his hands from his partner’s back to beckon the young girl, who squealed in delight as she attached herself to his legs.

“No one will take this away from us. I swear”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Processing photos was a relaxing process. Whilst his professor preferred to use digital cameras, Kihyun liked watching the developing film, the quiet that enveloped the room save for the buzz of the LED lights. 

His peace was interrupted with the arrival of Junho, who dropped his bag rather loudly on the floor.

“Yoo Kihyun. I trust you’ve been keeping up with your work?” His voice possessed such animosity it made the student shiver.

“I’m sorry sir, I was busy yesterday. I wasn’t able to take any pictures of your wife for you.” 

“But you visited her, no?”

 Silence spread throughout the darkroom.

“I didn’t. I’m very sorry, I hope you can forgive me.” 

Junho let out a deep, irritated sigh.

“That’s a shame. But also, I know you’re lying to me Kihyun, and I want the truth.” He snarled, grabbing the student’s wrist in his iron grip. “Why did I hear my daughter say your name yesterday?”

“You must have misheard her.” Kihyun replied smoothly, his heart racing nonetheless.

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” His superior snapped back, twisting the young man’s wrist until he cried out in pain. “You think you’re so smart, you think you’ve got the world in your hands. But just you wait. First, I’m making sure you lose your scholarship for severe misconduct. Then, I’ll phone all the contacts I have and make sure you can never get into another school like this, no matter where you go, Finally, I’m going to make sure (Y/N) doesn’t even remember your name, so that you have nothing left after your useless escapade.” 

“Fuck you.” The student hissed, tears brimming in his eyes. He couldn’t let this happen, let himself lose everything he worked for and (Y/N). He finally snatched his wrist away. “I’ll kill you before anything of that happens, you rotten bastard.”

“What will that achieve? You’ll still lose your career, your life, and (Y/N) and Minji will hate you for the rest of their lives.”

No, that wasn’t true. Kihyun had been woken up too many times by (Y/N) crying out in her sleep, wrecked with the emotional damage Junho had done to her. He’d always go and make her a cup of camomile tea, and rub her back when she cried to him about how she wished that she’d never met Junho. She’d be much better off if he was dead.

His swiss army knife was in his pocket. Maybe he could end all their troubles here.

“Now get out of my site, rat. No point doing any more work when you’re going to be kicked out by the end of the day, right?” Junho’s triumphant smirk only served to piss off Kihyun even more.

He found the knife in his pocket, flicking the blade out and letting it rest in his hand.

It was when Junho gave him a shove towards the door that he snapped and pulled it out, brandishing it in front of his face.

“Nice tool you have there, little rat. What are you going to do with it? You haven’t got the guts.” It was to Junho's surprise that he found himself pinned down to the floor, Kihyun’s weight on his chest keeping him from moving as the blade was dragged up his wrists. One of the student’s hands was clasped over the professor’s mouth to keep him from screaming out as he finished his work. The light was leaving the villain’s eyes, and it was sickeningly satisfying to see as Kihyun cleaned off the knife before leaving it in the dying man’s hands. Even if his victim tossed the blade away, it would still have the prints and Kihyun would be cleared nonetheless. He cleaned off his hands, shrugged on his jacket and left the bastard in a pool of his own blood.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

It was just after three o’clock, with Kihyun having spent the afternoon in the library studying his theory textbooks, that he got a text from (Y/N).

‘Can you pick up Minji from school as soon as possible please? I can’t leave the house right, I’ll explain it later.’

His heart thudded. He was more than ready to do it for (Y/N), to be the rock of stability in her life. If she ever needed him, he would be there.

Minji was chipper as always, not questioning why she’d been asked to leave classes early although Kihyun did have some difficulty proving to the receptionist that he had permission to pick her up despite not being her father.

She chattered to Kihyun all throughout the journey home, practically bouncing in the seat even after he gently scolded her for distracting him. He could never be mad at her, she was too cute. 

Minji was ready to jump into her mother’s arms the second the front door opened, but the sight of (Y/N)’s reddened eyes as she pulled the two inside before quickly shutting it behind them was enough to concern her. 

And as soon as the three were hidden from the eyes of the public, (Y/N) broke down into tears. 

“M-m-minji… your daddy…” She choked out. “He’s…”

Kihyun rushed to comfort her, letting her sob into his chest.

“We’ll explain to you later, Minji. Do you want to go to your room and play with your dolls?”

The little girl bit her lip, trusting Kihyun but also concerned about the state of her mother. He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder with his spare hand, and it was enough to sway her and run off. 

“Honey, we need to sit down.” Kihyun muttered, gently leading her over to the armchair. The mother sniffed and detached herself from him, wiping at her eyes.

“It’s Junho. I got a call from the police. They found him dead, and they think he killed himself.” Kihyun couldn’t care less, but seeing the state (Y/N) was in he knew it was best to fake sympathy and coo apologies.

“It’s all my fault, I told him to go to hell, I told him I hate him. It’s all my fault, I killed him!” She wasn’t exactly wrong, she had been the cause of his death, but Kihyun didn’t want that weight on her shoulders.

“No, it’s not. You’re not to blame for whatever he did.” He whispered. 

“I shouldn't have ever fought him. If I’d been a bit more tolerant, he w-w-wouldn’t be dead!” A new wave of tears dripped down (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“Don’t blame yourself, you did the right thing.” Kihyun repeated, like a mantra. (Y/N) just shook her head at the response. 

“Please, Kihyun. I love you, but this should have never happened.” There was a pit in Kihyun’s stomach as the love of his life spoke. “I think… I think we need some time apart. This doesn’t feel right.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. 

Surely Junho hadn’t been right. Surely (Y/N) didn’t hate him?

“We’re meant to be together, (Y/N). I’m here for you, no matter what. I’d do anything for your love.” He clasped her hands in his. 

“I know. I just can’t do this, the guilt would eat me alive.” She continued, her eyes still watery. “What would I look like, Minji’s father dying and me staying with my new man without a care in the world?!” 

“He was a rotten bastard!” Kihyun raised his voice, standing up. “Why should you care if he’s dead? He hurt you, he deserved everything he got!”

(Y/N) was stunned.

“How could you be so heartless? I never wanted him dead!” She snapped.

“And what if I did?” Kihyun replied heatedly. “He had it coming!”

There was silence, although Kihyun’s blood was boiling so hot he was surprised there wasn’t steam coming out of his ears.

“Dear lord, Kihyun. What did you do?” (Y/N)’s voice was barely a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” Kihyun said simply.

“Get out of my house right now.” 

He didn’t move.

“I’m calling the police.”

Her empty threats meant nothing to the lovesick man.

“I’d do anything for you.” He affirmed. “Don’t test that.”

(Y/N) was shaking. She was out of the grasp of one obsessed man, only to fall into the arms of one much worse.

He sat down next to her again, taking her hands into his own.

“No one could ever take me away from you. I swear.”

[unmaskedagain]

Rate this (Trust is Hard to Come By)

Its six am here and I just got to work. And am now writing a drabble at my desk. Again tweaked prompt a bit. Oh and I just realized that based on this and my last few “drabble” that are long that some picture books… I don’t know what a drabble. Or least I know it doesn’t apply to what I usually write.

No one would who or what had caused the akuma this time. However, when a thirteen-year-old superfan of Ladybug got Akumatized, everyone knew it.

A loud voice boomed in the ears of all the citizens in Paris, “Beware Paris, I am the Gardener, protector of the Loveliness. Those who have failed our Queen Ladybug will be revealed. A number you shall be given on a scale to 100; the higher the number, the more trust the Queen has in you. Low numbers have failed our Queen, betrayed our queen, betrayed the loveliness, and will be punished!”

“Loveliness,” Adrien asked, already preparing to make a break for it to transform.

           Unaware that Marinette decided to wait for a bit. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way.  All the kids were at lunch and seemed to be enjoying the day until the alert happened.

           Max pushed his glasses up, “A group of ladybugs is called a ‘loveliness of ladybugs.’. Gardeners love Ladybugs because Ladybugs protect their gardens.”

“Cool!” Kim grinned. “We get to see how much Ladybug digs us.”

           Alya preened, “I’m at least a 90.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m so going to live stream this.”

“I think I’m like an 80, dude,” Nino smirked.

           All the kids gave their guess; most figuring they were at least in the 70s. It was Alya who joked, that Marinette probably had a ten.

           The others agreed; thinking the girl had been such a bully lately, and so mean to Lila.

           Marinette overheard them from where she, Chloe, Kagami and their new friends sat. A smirked spread across her face. This would be good.

           A blindingly flash filled the cafeteria. When it was gone, all the kids had numbers above their heads.

           One by one the excited grins on the students of Bustier’s class faded.

“A two,” Alya paled. “How can I be a two?” A dark ugly red 2 floated above her head. She touched the number and words appeared next to it: Warning: Disloyal. False friend. Bully. Anger control problems. Easily swayed. Bad journalist… etc.

           Nino frowned, “I got a four.” How could he have a four? He was carapace. Ladybug had chosen him herself. Or at least she had. He hadn’t gone Super in over a year. Was that when Ladybug lost her trust in him?

           He touched the number. His warning said: bad friend. Disloyal. Bully. He touched it again before he could read any more.

           Kim had a five. Alix had a three. Mylene had a seven. Rose and Juleka had 10s. Ivan had an eight. Nathanial had an eleven. Max had a six.  All were in the red. All had similar warning signs.

           Adrien had frozen in his seat when he saw his number. A 14. How could he be a 14? Why did Ladybug barely trust him? They were partners, friends, maybe more one day. But how could they be any of that she didn’t trust him.

           He touched his number. His warning sign read: Naïve, Spineless, pushy, Bad friend, and, in bold letter, COWARD.

“We should go,” Max whispered. “People are staring.”

           And sure enough they were. Most of the student body had numbers in the 30s or 40s, it was respectable seeing as they barely dealt with the hero. However, this meant it was easy to find the kids who ranked so much lower.

           Slowly suspicious eyes fell on Bustier’s class. What had they done, most wondered. Whatever, it was they knew it was bad. Somehow the students of Bustier’s class had hurt Ladybug. And as far as the rest of the school was concerned, and those watching from Alya’s livestream, if Ladybug couldn’t trust them, they couldn’t either.

           Marinette watched with cold eyes as her classmates and ex-friends scrambled to rush out of the cafeteria. Still she kept a smile on her face as one by one student came up to thank her for whatever she had done for Ladybug; for being such a good friend to the hero.

           A glowing, bright beautiful emerald green 92 floated above her. It was the highest number anyone had seen so far. Her words attached were less of a warning and more of brag: Loyal, Honest, Good. Trustworthy. Caring. A great friend. Hardworker. Heroic. Brave. Then her warning was: A bit too insecure but working on it.

           Aurore beamed at her friend, livestreaming from her own phone to her new Bugout. She had a neon green 70 above her head. Her words: Honest, Hardworker, loyal, good friend, amazing journalist. “Everyone post a pic of themselves with the number above their heads; it’s blowing up Twitter.”

           Chloe gave everyone smug grins, as she had the second 86 above hers. Her words: Brave, strong, loyal, good. A great hero. A great friend.

Kagami had a 72. Her words: loyal, confident, headstrong, good, good friend.  Marc a 67. Ondine a 66. Claude a 71. They all had similar ones to Kagami.

“You’re in Bustier’s class, right, Marinette?” A girl who had come to thank Marinette had asked. Her question drew attention from everyone. “Are you going to be safe there? With them?”

           Claude frowned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”

           It took a lot of reassurance to get her friends and even quite a few of the other students who had been in the cafeteria to allow her to go back to her class. Even then, Marinette found Ms. Mendeleiev, who had a solid forest green 71 above her head and had a bit more pep in her step that usual, escorting her and Chloe to class.

           Students in the hall moved out of Marinette way as soon as they saw her coming, a look of awe on their faces. The bluenette couldn’t find the pink blush that crept on to her face.

           They knew they had gotten to Bustier’s class when they saw the red glow emerging from the room

           Alya couldn’t believe it. How couldn’t Ladybug trust her? She was Rena Rouge. Or least she had been. There had been a new Fox running around with Ladybug, lately. Rena hadn’t been seen in over a year. Still, Alya ran the Ladyblog. Alya thought they were friends. But how could that be true with a 2 above her head. And she wasn’t a bully or disloyal.

           The rest of the class had a similar mindset. Even Bustier, who had a three, had a sorrowful look on her face. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong.

           When green glows entered the room, they all noticed. Mouths dropped.

           Ms. Mendeleiev with a 71, they could understand. She was a great teacher, no one could deny it. The beautiful blond Chloe they could sort of understand. She had an 86; maybe she had done more good as Queen Bee than they knew about. Marinette though? Their minds just couldn’t compute.

           How could Marinette have a 92?

           They read the words attached to her and Chloe’s numbers with disbelief.

           Said girl thanked Mendeleiev who had taken to blatantly staring at Bustier with distrust. It occurred to Mendeleiev, that the younger teacher did have an absurdly high number of Akuma transformation from her students. When Mendeleiev and told everyone what she had seen and realized; most of the other faculty would begin to keep a close eye on Bustier and her class. Something just wasn’t right with that lot.

           Marinette and Chloe made their way to the seats in back. The green above their heads looked a halo.

           Alya wanted to scream. “Why does Ladybug trust you?” She asked the girls.

“She’s Queen Bee,” Marinette pointed at Chloe. “A loyal ally of Ladybug.”

           Chloe smirked, “Don’t you remember that it was Marinette who first got you that interview with Ladybug; the reason your blog became as popular as it did?” She asked reporter. “Marinette’s Ladybug’s friend.”

           Any scathing thing the students had been thinking to sneer at the girls died on their lips. Marinette was Ladybug’s friend. They knew Marinette knew the hero but never thought about how close they were.

“Why do think Ladybug stopped giving you interviews?” Chloe leaned back in her seat. A euphoric feeling filling her. “She only started working with you in the first place because she knew you were Marinette’s bestie. Once that changed, well… Ladybug just didn’t want to work with you anymore. Something about Journalistic Professionalism. How is your website doing by the way? I haven’t checked in a while. I normally use Aurore’s Bugout blog. Ladybug endorses it, you know?”

           Marinette could have kissed the blond. The devastation on Alya’s face was finally karma for all the nasty texts she had sent to Marinette before she change her number.

           Nino pulled his girlfriend into a hug.

“She read those texts you sent me by the way.” Marinette sent them a cold smirk as horrified looks overcame their faces. “Every last one. She was so disappointed.”

“You showed her?” Rose whispered. “How could you show her?”

“Why not?” Marinette shrugged. Rose hadn’t sent as many mean texts as the others in class and weren’t all that mean; just accusatory and claiming that she refused to be friends with a Bully. “I trust her. She trusts me. I even sent her videos of what a day in our class has been like lately. Ladybug got to see and hear everything personally. She has so many concerns about the goings on in this. She’ll be going to the school board with the videos.”

           Bustier paled. She knew the students had gotten a bit out of hand but surely they weren’t that bad. They were just kids after all. (The teacher would get her answer a week later, along with a pink slip.)

           Alya sobbed as she remembered everything she sent Marinette. How could she know Ladybug would read them? No wonder Alya got a 2. Ladybug probably hated her. “I only sent that because you were being such a bully.”

“Yeah,” Alix hissed. “It’s not fair. You were being such a freak about Lila!” There were nods.

           And as the old saying goes, speak of the devil, and the devil…

           Lila had taken her sweet time getting to school that day. She had lied to her mother that it was closed for the morning because an Akuma. And it was just her luck that one would appear. She had stayed in bed all day, earphones blasting music in her ear, wondering just how she’ll amazing her classmates that day. It felt great to be adored.

           When Lila got up to leave for school, she looked in the mirror and saw a dark, blood red glowing Negative 51 above her head. She shrugged and left her apartment. Earphones still in her ears. A happy smile on her face.

           She didn’t notice the shocked and disgusted looks on people’s faces as she passed them. Or why a mother picked up her a child and ran in the other direction. Lila didn’t see the brave man who reached out, with shaky hands, and touched her number as she passed by. Nor she see the People taking pictures of her and her warning signs. The photos went viral almost instantly, everyone wanted to know just who was the girl with the only negative number in all of Paris… As far they knew.

           When Gabriel Agreste saw Lila’s image on the web, he ordered Nathalie to sever all connections to the teen girl and release a statement making it clear the company had no idea just what Lila Rossi had been capable of. Afterwards, Gabriel wondered what Lila had done to earn such a dramatically low number.

           Gabriel himself was at a respectable and average 30. While Nathalie was at solid 34. Decent not too green numbers. Though as Hawkmoth, they were both an Ugly negative -2. He knew he was a Supervillian; Ladybug regarded him as a bad guy. But she seemed to regard Lila Rossi as pure evil.

           …Maybe Hawkmoth should sever his connection to the Italian girl as well.

           Lila arrived at school, just at the end of lunch, students had just started to leave the cafeteria for lunch. She didn’t notice that students stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Or the teachers with horrifying and calculating looks on their faces. She didn’t seem Damocles’ pale and rush off to call her mother.

           She didn’t notice anything. Lila just smiled pleasantly; having decided to go with a Prince Ali story that day. Maybe that he asked her to marry him. She’d be the envy of all the girls in class.

           However, when Lila got to the class she did notice the shocked looks she got from her classmates. But not the cold smirk on Marinette’s face.

“What?” Lila asked looking around. “Did something happened? Oh, no is the Akuma still around? How awful!”  She said fighting the smile off her face. Hopefully Ladybug was getting her ass kicked, she thought.

           Alya dropped her phone. Negative? How could Lila be negative? How could she have such a low negative number at that?

           Everyone in class read the giant warning label attached to Lila Rossi’s number: Liar, backstabber, nasty, bully, untrustworthy, manipulative, rotten, villain, horrible person; the list went on and on. However, it was that shook them to their cores: Evil. Not bad. Not awful. Evil.

           Alya collapsed against her boyfriend, “No. No. I didn’t know. I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nino comforted her. “None of us knew.” There were nods from the other students.

           Marinette and Chloe looked at them with narrowed eyes because: What the hell.

“Except I told you she was a liar,” Marinette glared at them. “You didn’t listen. You turned against me… for her.”

“You turned against Marinette,” Chloe said slowly. “The girl who did everything for you. And for what? A few glittery stories and false promises?”

           Adrien closed his eyes. Was this why Ladybug distrusted him? Because he didn’t side with Marinette like he knew he should’ve. Plagg had warned him he was wrong. But he just didn’t want to risk losing all his friends like Marinette seemed to be losing hers.

Marinette looked at Rose, “Now I want you think again about every text you all sent me because of Lila Rossi.” Once again the students turned pale. They had been so mean, so harsh, so unbelievable cruel to the girl that had been so dear to their hearts. “Now I want you to remember again that Ladybug saw them.”

           Rose was the first to break out in tears. “I’m-I’m sorry!” She sobbed and struggled to find her words. She had disowned one of her closest friends for a villain. “I’m so sorry!”

           Other students were in the same boat she was. The fiery Alix was had been contemplating going on another tirade against Marinette when Lila walked in, felt her anger be snuffed out a like a campfire in a thunderstorm. The pink haired girl remembered helping lead the charge in showing Marinette what it was like to be bullied; tripping her, ripping of her homework, shoving her. What she done? Kim had been crushing on Lila hard felt crushed. Marinette had been since friend since pre-k, and he just… left her.

           Lila looked honestly confused. She had missed something, and it was big. “What’s going on?”

           Nino glared at the girl; his eyes red, tear streaks his face. “Those numbers tell the world how much Ladybug trusts you. Or how much she doesn’t,” He said darkly, thinking about his own number and his actions against the girl he once called his best friend. “And why.”

“The lower the number,” Adrien added. “The less she trust you.”

           Chloe leaned forward in her seat and sent vicious smirk to the Italian girl, “And guess who has the only negative number in Paris.” She teased. “Besides Hawkmoth, but at least he was smart enough to hide. You’re trending by the way.”

“No!” Lila said, looking around desperately, but all she saw was cold stares. “No!” She pulled out her phone, and sure enough the name Lila Rossi was trending. Her picture with the giant negative number above her head seem to be everywhere. “This can’t be happening! How can this be happening!”

           Marinette stood up, “Because you’re a bad person. You’re mean and you’re cruel. And worst yet, you dragged everyone down with you.” She said. Her voice was righteous or angry. It was like she was stating a fact from a history book. Marinette looked over every single one of her ex-friends, “Ladybug will never trust you again.”

           The bell rang.

“Time for class,” Chloe sang. “Maybe you guys will finally learn something.”

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt88

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

By the time Selina exited the bathroom in her street clothes Chloe had tucked Mari in, sent Damian a ‘thanks for the heads up asshole’ text, fed the Kwami, notified Luka and the Kwami that they’d be dealing with any issues for the next few days, and was currently calmly filing her nails waiting for the front desk to send up the room key. She didn’t look up as the woman walked back in the room but could feel her eyes on her.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t have just shown up in costume without making sure you were aware I was coming and I shouldn’t have made assumptions about who you were outside of being a hero. Apparently Bruce left out a few things when he explained the situation to me. And he most likely didn’t mention to the boys that I could be showing up early.” Chloe glanced up at the woman and saw real sincerity. She looked at Marinette’s sleeping form and could practically hear the girl’s voice in her head telling her to be nice.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” And she was. Everyone expected her to be someone else. Her parents expected the perfect daughter. Her class expected a first class bitch. The public only saw a spoiled little rich girl. She’d always played to people’s expectations rather than herself to the point that if you asked Chloe wouldn’t be able to tell you who she was. Marinette was changing all that, but she still didn’t have a clue who she was under all the bluster and snobbery. “It’s not your fault either and Mari would kick my ass if I were less than civil. We can start over tomorrow when tensions aren’t so high and we’re all rested.”

“That… sounds like a good idea.” Chloe watched as the woman frowned thoughtfully at Marinette. “She’s very observant.” Chloe let out an amused snort.

“You have no idea. It’s worse when she’s awake because you know she sees more than everyone else but she keeps it to herself. It’s maddening wondering what she saw that you didn’t.” It had absolutely nothing to do with her being Ladybug either. Marinette had seen and heard more than everyone else for as long as Chloe could remember. Honestly it might have been the look of pity the girl gave her the first time her parents didn’t show up for something that started Chloe on her vendetta when they were little. Everyone else believed her when she said her parents were too busy to attend some tiny school assembly. Somehow, Marinette knew she was lying. Every time Marinette looked at her after that she’d felt like she was under a microscope.

“I live with ‘the world’s greatest detective’ so I’m used to that feeling. Granted Tim’s worse in that regard but Bruce is so uncommunicative you know he’s got things in his head you’ll never be able to pry out.” Chloe gave a non committal hum. She hadn’t been that impressed with the man during their encounter, but he had been squaring off against Mari so both that comparison and the fact she was in protection mode may very well have colored her perception. Okay, it definitely colored her perception.

“That will help. Plus Mari’s gotten a lot better at hiding it when she figures things out. That comment about why Damian doesn’t like you would never have come out, she just would have started subtly nudging the pair of you into some form of tolerance without you noticing. She probably still will actually.” Definitely with Damian. His obvious intolerance of someone so important to his father was bound to make her do it even if Selina was the most obnoxious person alive. Mari couldn’t help herself. If she thought it was broken, she fixed it, and Damian had become her pet project.

“I’m not that easy to manipulate.” Chloe could only smirk at the woman.

“I assure it won’t matter. With no planning she got Bruce to agree to leave Damian in Paris. Trust me, when she decides something needs to change, it does. I’m a prime example of that.” That was probably not the best way to say that. Mari had a tendency to push people towards what would make them happy. With Chloe it had changed over the years and she hadn’t even realized what was happening. Mari was the one who got her to think about running for class representative originally. At the time her father was in the middle of a reelection campaign and she’d wanted to be just like him. Mari was also indirectly responsible for her push to get Adrien out of homeschooling. All it had taken was a few well placed comments. It was honestly scary how easily she could manipulate people. And it was amazing that she actively tried to only help people when she could do so much damage.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Honestly if she can get Damian in anyway on board with my relationship with his father it would be a tremendous relief. I know we’ve had a… fairly rocky relationship for a long time, but we’re both finally at the point where we can accept each other for who we are. But if Damian is completely set against it, I don’t think Bruce will risk alienating him to stay with me. It hurts knowing that, but I understand. Especially given all they’ve gone through. Bruce won’t risk losing a child that way.” Chloe could help but frown at that. She couldn’t imagine either one of her parents denying themselves something just to keep her from leaving. She was actually pretty sure her mother would auction her off to the highest bidder for an exclusive on the next hottest thing in fashion. Her father would sell his own soul to stay in office so she didn’t imagine he’d flinch at tossing her out if she became a liability.

“He sounds like a decent man.” Bruce Wayne’s public image was terrible but she knew better than most how deceptive that could be. Selina was giving her a concerned look. Crap, her thoughts must have shown on her face. She really was tired if she was having trouble keeping a neutral expression.

“He is, no matter how hard he tries to pretend otherwise. He wouldn’t have given me so many chances if he weren’t.” She glanced at Mari. “I have a feeling you’ll understand what I mean.” Chloe just nodded. Mari had given her chance after chance, as both herself and Ladybug. If she hadn’t who knows where she’d be right now. “People like that are rare, but they also don’t stick with lost causes. If you or I were a hopeless case they wouldn’t have put the effort in.”

“She’s right you know.” Tikki flew over from the bed to land on Chloe’s shoulder. “There was always a hero in you. You just needed to know it was okay to be that person instead of who you were raised to be.” That got an even more concerned look from Selina.

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

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[bwemph]

Secrets

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request: @cherrykarts Could I get a Peter Parker x shy reader where Pete breaks things off bc he doesn’t want to see her hurt, but when he goes to the avengers tower it turns out she’s an avenger and she’s crying and stuff with Wanda and fluffy happy end? Idk

Word count: 2,400

Summary: After breaking up with Peter, you go to Wanda for comfort. When Peter shows up at the Compound unexpectedly, it turns out you both have secrets to share.

Warnings: Mild angst, light swearing, Peter being an absolute dork :)

A/N: This is a fic from my old blog Purpleocity. All future fics will be posted here at bwemph :)

“I just…I don’t think this is going to work.”

Your heart dropped, tears already threatening to spill over. Your brows furrowed. Why was Peter being like this? You two had been together for six months now. What changed? Everything was fine until just recently. He got that “Stark Internship” and he started acting all strange, now he’s breaking up with you out of nowhere? It just didn’t make sense.

“Peter, what do you mean ‘this isn’t going to work’?” Your voice shook a little as your crossed your arms. You leaned back against his wall, sinking a little further into his mattress. Your thoughts raced back through everything you could have done wrong, but it was all little stuff. Things that shouldn’t have mattered. You thought everything was going fine between the two of you.

“It’s just…It’s really complicated.” He reached out to you in order to take your hand, but you pulled it away, your vision blurring with tears. You bit your lip to keep back the sob that hitched your breath.

You shook your head. “’It’s complicated’? What’s gotten into you?” You asked as you stood up. He stood to meet you. “You’ve been acting so weird lately. You’re always disappearing. And you’ve been at least ten minutes late to almost every single one of our dates in the last month!” He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Just the other day I came over after school like you asked me to and you weren’t even here. Aunt May said she didn’t know where you were either. What, is there someone else? Are you…” You faltered a little, your heart dropping even further. You didn’t even want to say it for fear of the answer being yes, “…are you cheating on me?”

“Y/n, please just let me explain.” He took your hand again. You shirked away as he tried to hug you. You turned away, watching his reflection in the mirror with stone cold eyes. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down.

Tony Stark: We’ve got a situation. Get here as soon as you can.

You cursed under your breath, looking back up at Peter. “I have to go.” You pushed past him.

“Wha- Y/n, please,” he practically begged, reluctantly letting go of your hand as you crossed the room to open his door. “Don’t go.”

“I gotta. I’ll–I’ll see you at school.”

You closed his door behind yourself a little harder than you’d intended, lowering your head as you made for the apartment door.

“You’re not staying for dinner?” May asked as she looked up from a mixing bowl. “I’m making your favorite cookies for desert.” She nodded toward the cookies in the oven. They almost tempted you.

You sniffed, quickly drying a few rebellious tears before turning to her. “I, uh, I have to be somewhere. Thanks, though. Maybe another time.” You mustered a smile and picked up your backpack, slipping your shoes on.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed. “Probably not, but don’t worry about it. It’ll be alright. See ya, May.” With a wave, you left before she could further question you. You made for the Compound as quick as you could, though you had some down time in the back of the car before you got there. You allowed a few silent tears to fall, holding back the real deal for later as not to make things awkward for the chauffeur. You scrolled through your pictures on your phone, still unable to wrap your head around the situation. You half hoped this was maybe just a bad dream. You dried with your hoodie sleeve another tear that dropped onto your phone screen.

When you arrived, Tony was already standing outside to meet you. He walked you inside. “Well, I needed you in the moment,” he explained, “but we got it handled before you showed up.”

You shrugged one shoulder, putting a hand in your pocket. “Sorry. I got here as quick as I could.”

He clapped you on the back for reassurance. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He paused, removing his glasses and moving to stand in front of you. “You okay?” His hand remained on your shoulder.

You forgot you’d worn mascara that day, which was probably smeared and streaking your face at this point. You sighed, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just boy trouble.”

Tony gave a sympathetic look. “Boys are literally the scum of the earth.” He took a moment to snarl at the thought of whoever had hurt you. “Whoever he is, he’s a douchebag. Let me know if I have to hit him.”

You laughed softly. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” He winked in response. You sniffled again. “Is Wanda here?”

Tony nodded. “Up in her room.”

You wasted no time as you hurried up to her room.You weren’t sure how much longer any more tears could remain unshed.

You hovered in her doorway, making sure she was alone. She sat on her bed, plucking her guitar. She hummed a soft melody and took notes on whatever little riff she just made up. Her eyes lit up when she looked up and saw you. She set the guitar back in its stand and ran to hug you.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” She pulled away and her smile vanished in an instant. “What’s wrong?” She touched your arm in an attempt to comfort whatever was bothering you.

“Do you have any makeup remover?” you asked, breathing a laugh as you assumed you were a mess. You glanced down at your phone when it vibrated, but you ignored it.

“Yeah, yeah, come here.” She led you to the bathroom and handed you a container of makeup wipes. You looked in the mirror, somewhat amused despite your broken heart. You started with your eyes. “What happened?” Wanda asked, hovering close to your side.

You removed the makeup from your other eye before answering. “Peter broke up with me.” You choked up, biting your lips. You didn’t want to cry again. He’s just a stupid boy. Why did it matter?

He wasn’t just a stupid boy, that’s why it mattered; this was Peter.

Wanda gasped, pulling you into a hug as your tears started flowing again. “Why? What happened?”

You hid your face, your voice muffled by her red sweater, which was now gaining dark splotched from yourr tears. “I think he was cheating on me.”

She gave a hum of disapproval, leading you to sit down on her bed. You proceeded to explain everything that pointed toward his disloyalty: his weird absences, being late or sometimes not showing up at all to dates or when you were supposed to hang out, and how weird he’d act when you asked where he was. You shouldn’t have let it go so easily. You knew something was up and shouldn’t have ignored it. She listened to you vent for the next while, comforting you where she saw fit.

- - -

“Peter, dinner is ready,” May called softly as she poked her head into Peter’s room. He looked up from his phone, sending you numerous text messages. You didn’t reply to any of them. “Is everything okay? Y/n looked upset when she left.”

Peter dropped his head again, letting his phone fall onto his bed. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Why don’t you come talk about it over dinner, then?” May offered, gesturing for him to follow her. They sat at the table together. Peter explained what was up, poking at his spaghetti absentmindedly, but eating very little.

He wanted to protect you. Now that he was Spiderman, everyone he knew and loved would be in danger. He wanted to keep you safe most of all. He cared about you so much, and he regretted every time he had to take a raincheck or be late to see you. He always wanted to be around you, but saving the world would make that hard. Villains kidnapping or killing you would make that even harder, so he decided to break things off in order to keep you safe.

“I understand why you did that, but there’s plenty of other things you could do to protect her. You didn’t have to break up with her,” May said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Are you going to eat?

He sighed and shook his, the corners of his mouth being tugged down. “I screwed it up now. I don’t think I can get her back.”

Before May could say anything, Peter heard his special ringtone he had set for Happy. His eyes widened and he stood and scrambled to his room.

“Hello? Hi, yeah. It’s Peter.”

“You’re late for your training session, Peter. I’ve been out here for twenty minutes!” Happy snapped over the line.

A hand went to his forehead and he rushed to grab his things. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Happy. I’ll be out in a minute.” He rushed to throw the rest of his things he needed into his backpack and swiped a handful of cookies from the jar as he rushed out the door. “Sorry, Aunt May,” he mumbled around his mouthful of cookie. “I had to be at the Compound like a half hour ago! Bye, love you!”

He rushed out to the car where Happy stood, his arms crossed and a glare set deep in his features. Peter got in and said nothing on the way to the compound. Happy didn’t ask. In fact, he reveled in the fact that Peter shut up for once.

- - -

Sweaty and exhausted, Peter left the training room. The personal trainer worked him harder than usual today, probably because he was late. He stumbled out of the training room and into the common area, chugging a glass of water.

“Peter?” you said, eyes wide. He startled, fumbling with the glass. “What the hell are you doing here?” You dropped the apple slice you were holding into the bowl of caramel as you stood. Wanda eyed both of you, looking very confused.

“Wait a minute, that’s Peter?” she said with her brow furrowed.

“You two know each other?” Peter asked, pointing between the two of you.

You put your hands on your hips. “I asked my question first.” Your voice was a little too calm to be okay with the current situation. He crossed to meet you, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Well, uh…” He glanced between the two of you. “I’m kinda an Avenger?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You threw your hands in the air with exasperation.

He stuttered as he gestured between you and Wanda. “Well why didn’t you tell me?” he asked you, equally as irritated. “It’s what I was going to tell you! I’m freaking Spiderman!”

You were taken aback, and you hugged yourself, unsure what to think. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind. Peter was the Spiderman? Since when? You thought he’d just been working out, not suddenly training as a superhero! You looked to Wanda, who seemed about as confused as you were. “Well then I guess we have to work on our communication skills…” you said eventually, your tension easing.

Peter laughed a little. “Yeah…” he sighed and reached out to take your hand. “Look, I know I probably screwed up any chance I had with you, but am I allowed to take back what I said before? I didn’t really mean it when I said things weren’t working out…I lied. Sorry.”

Your shoulders relaxed further. You felt a little embarrassed. “Well I haven’t exactly been honest with you either.”

Peter laughed a little, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay. Since we’re telling each other our darkest secrets right now, can I tell you something else?”

“Hit me.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Things were actually going better than great…yknow, with us. They’re amazing. And like, you’re amazing. And I’m so sorry I’m always late and disappearing and I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He looked at his feet for a bit, shame curving his features into a bit of a pout. He glanced back up at you, his puppy dog eyes begging for forgiveness already. “But like, I really love spending time with you and Aunt May loves you and I…” he faltered again, “I love you, yknow?”

You smiled, taking his other hand. “I’m an idiot too, so it’s okay. And,” you stood closer to him, “I love you too.” You leaned in to kiss him, but Wanda cleared her throat, reminding you of her presence. You pursed your lips, your face warming a little with embarrassment.

She picked up the tray of caramel and apples. “I’ll just put these away,” she said, hurrying to put them away and leaving you two alone.

“I’m all sweaty and gross. Sorry.” Peter said before you silenced him with a kiss. It didn’t stop you from pulling him close.

When you broke away, you murmured, “It doesn’t bother me.” You ran a hand down his arm, entwining your fingers again, but remaining close. “Stop apologizing. It’s really okay,” you giggled.

“Sorry–Er, I mean…” He laughed, pecking another kiss to your lips. He smiled brightly, startling a little as Tony entered the room. It seemed that everyone needed to know now.

He froze, his glasses coming off again. “Wait, this is the douchebag?” he asked, unsure he was actually seeing the two of you together like this. “And why are you smooching him? I thought he was giving you trouble?” He pointed at you. “Were you giving her trouble, Parker?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured. “It was a misunderstanding. I think we’re good now.” He looked back at you, and you nodded in agreement. You tried to contain your smile.

He squinted, turning with a shrug and going the other way, dropping whatever his previous task was.

“Wanna go get ice cream?” you asked.

Peter smiled. “I like the sound of that. But can I take a shower first?”

You nodded. “You do that, Spidey.”

He dropped his head with a laugh. “That’s cute.”

“What? Spidey?”

“Heh, yeah.”

[kayteewritessteve]

Be Alright - 1/2

Description: Steve goes through a bad breakup, but a sweet voice and a friendly smile helps him realize he can begin again, and that he definitely should.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 7,980 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bartender!Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Angst. Curse words. Mentions of drinking to numb the pain, sorta. Sad Steebie, then a resolved Steebie. Mentions of cheating, and the crappy feels that come after.

Requested: Nah, but it is for @cxptain 1k followers prompt challenge! And the prompt will be in Part 2! Anywho aaaaah!! Congrats to you lovely, you deserve every one of those followers and yet so so many more! Here’s to many, many more to come for you! And I can’t wait to watch as your lovely blog as it grows and grows! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Lovely page divider by writeyourmindaway

This is set in the Post Endgame, Everyone Lives AU. Endgame happened about 2 years before the beginning of this story, but no one died during Endgame, and Steve stayed in the future. However, he did still hand the mantle of Captain over to Sam. Also, this part is based off the Dean Lewis song of the same name, Be Alright. So, hope you enjoy!

Steve stood there, completely frozen in his spot in the middle of her kitchen. He’d only arrived moments ago, but he could already feel the shift in the air. He could already sense the impending destruction coming at him, at full force. And deep down he knew in the next few moments, everything would change. The next words out of her mouth would ruin everything, would shatter him completely.

He continued to stare at the floor between him and the woman he loves, the one he knows he will have to stop loving after tonight. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, he just does. And he isn’t ready to face the incoming heartache.

After a final deep breath in, he slowly slides his eyes up and sees her face is unchanged. It wasn’t just a trick of his mind, this isn’t just a joke, he’s not having a nightmare. All the emotions he’d noticed the moment he entered this kitchen are still very much there. Just under the surface, there is no way to mistake them. Her eyes are sad, so damn sad, and he knows that if they could, they’d be drowning in the unshed tears.

His eyes lock on hers for only a moment, before she can’t keep the contact any longer. She turns her head away from him, she’s trying to hide whatever is pooling in her eyes now. She’s trying to find the strength to voice the things screaming at her, in her mind. On instinct—or just from muscle memory, he can’t be sure—he reaches out for her hand to comfort her. A move he’s done time and time again. And the moment he takes her smaller one in his own, he almost retracts from how cold she feels. No longer is her skin warm and comforting, now it’s cold and unknown.

But he doesn’t even get the chance to pull away, because before he can, she does it for him once again. This was his second attempt to touch her, and she wasn’t having any part of either tries. She wanted no contact right now, be it from touch or eyes.

Steve would give anything to hear her thoughts in this moment. He wonders what is running through her mind. Why she can’t look at him. Why he can’t touch her.

He doesn’t have to wonder, silently, for long though.

“I made a dumb mistake,” she finally whispers, and he can’t miss the tremble in her voice—Or how her body is starting to resemble that now as well. But he can’t give it much more thought, when she turns her regret-filled, watery eyes to meet his, finally. Her voice breaking slightly on her next words, “those cigarettes weren’t, Bucky’s. They were my friend’s.”

His brows furrow, what’s so bad about that? It only takes him a second more for it to all click. The way her voice quivered on the word ‘friend’. He couldn’t have heard that right. She couldn’t mean what he thinks she means.

Without even realizing what he’s doing, he reaches out and cups her cheek. He doesn’t know why he does it, maybe so he could keep her eyes on him long enough to find the answers he wants in them. To find the truth he begs internally is there. That he heard her wrong, that he’s overthinking this all. He desperately wants to find in her eyes, that this isn’t what he thinks it is.

But he is crushed when he does see the truth, because it’s not the truth he wanted. It’s the truth that he had in fact heard right. That he wasn’t imagining anything. Yes, they’d had issues in their relationship. Yes, he was away a lot and he knew it killed her. That she hated how often he was away on missions. How she felt neglected and alone. They’d have many long nights arguing over these exact things. But he never thought it would end like this. Not once did he see this outcome coming.

Her next words tell him she is moving on. He didn’t even know they’d gotten this bad. He didn’t even realize they were in a place where she could move on from him. But clearly they had.

“I kissed him yesterday—well, actually he, he kissed me,” she turns her face away from his grasp, and his arm falls limp beside him. A tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away as her shaky voice adds, “but I didn’t stop him. I kissed him back.”

He feels it as the colour drains from his face, the deep claws of betrayal clasping onto his heart in a deadly grip. He takes a small step back, as if her words were a physical blow. He shakes his head as everything sinks in, but he can’t shake how her admission has made him feel. He knows he should walk away, but he is frozen in his spot once again. He wants to stay and fix this, but he knows from the look in her eye that there is no fixing this now. There is no going back.

He looks at her for a moment more, this woman he loves, this woman he wanted to spend his life with. Yeah, they had a lot of really bad moments, but they also had a bunch of really nice ones too. With one more deep, shuddering breath in, he turns on his heel without a word and walks out of her place. The door slamming in finality, as if it were the period at the end of a sentence, the end of their relationship.

“You alright there, big guy?” A sweet voice inquires softly in the loud space around him, but even with all the background noise, he couldn’t miss the concern playing in every word.

He glances up from his glass, the one he’d just been staring into for God knows how long. Long enough at least for the ice cubes to have all melted now, and the drink to have turned warm in his clutches. He knows he can’t actually get drunk, but there is something so therapeutic about sitting alone in a bar, with a drink in your hand. Where you are surrounded by lots of people, music, merriment and cheer. Where there is someone resting their eyes on the bar top near the end, and groups of friends piled into booths or around pool tables. Everyone going about their lives, with no notice of him or his troubles. He feels unnoticed, anonymous, and that’s exactly what he needs to feel right now.

He’s never been to this establishment before, walked by it hundreds of times on his route to his girlfriends place. And in this moment, he can’t understand why he’s never stepped foot in this pub. He’s eyes drift around the room quickly, everyone is enjoying themselves, everyone is keeping to themselves. Not a single person even paying him a moment's notice. As if he was just a random stranger, and not the man out of time. He likes it here, he decides.

His eyes finally slip over to the bearer of the sweet voice, and if Steve hadn’t just had a bomb dropped in the middle of his life. If he hadn’t just walked out the door of his girlfr—ex girlfriends apartment, he’d probably have felt his heart flutter at the beautiful creature before him. He probably would have drowned in the beautiful hues of her eyes, or begged to hear her soothing voice once more, or melted at the soft up-tilt at the corners of her lips, or blushed at her unwavering attention—which was solely placed on him at the moment, and no one else.

But he is numb right now. He is broken, and shattered, and above all else, hurt. He is sitting alone in this bar, wishing he could get drunk on the booze in his glass, and ignoring his phone that has been vibrating endlessly from its current place, face down on the bar top where it’s been sitting ignored for the last hour. Message after message, and a bunch of missed calls, but all from his friends. Not from her trying to reach out to tell him it was all a sick joke, or that she wants to try to fix things. But he knows for a fact that none of these messages or calls are from her. They couldn’t be now.

Because he’s been in this bar for 2 hours at this point, and he’d already reread a bunch of their messages. He’d already looked back at all the ones she’d sent, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew it wasn’t right, but this was all just fucking with his head. Causing him to make bad decisions.

Bad decisions like reliving a bunch of their moments through pictures, the ones he’d slowly gone through and deleted of her. Of them. Every little piece of her that was saved and held so safely, so lovingly, in this little brick of metal and plastic. He knows he shouldn’t have looked at the photos before he deleted them, but his gluttonous mind told him he had to see it all just once more. He’d gone down memory lane for a solid hour, before he had finally deleted every photo, and then, just before deleting her contact info from his phone, he’d blocked her number.

It wasn’t so much to prevent her from contacting him, it was more to prevent him from getting his hopes up every time his phone made a sound. Every time it vibrated with an incoming text, or rang with a phone call. He knows his silly mind and hurt heart would skip a beat every time his phone made even the smallest of sounds. And just the thought of that alone was maddening, was enough to drive him insane. So blocking her meant he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not her. It could not be her anymore.

“I’ll be alright,” he answers, the words feeling like a lie at the moment, but he knows they’ll be true one day. Some day. He takes a sip of his drink, his nose crinkling just a little at the instant reminder that his drink is now warm. As he sets the glass back down, he finishes his words off more truthfully, “soon enough.”

A soft giggle plays in the thick air around him, effortlessly cutting away some of its weight. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. But do you want me to get you a new drink or maybe some fresh ice?”

She’d clearly seen the disgusted look he’d sported just after sipping his now warm drink.

He is just about to shake his head, he can’t get drunk anyways, so there is really no point in his wasting his money on booze that’s essentially just for show. But before he can even begin to move his head, she beats him to it by gently taking the glass with the offending drink and dumping it in the sink between them, just under the bar top. “Ya know what? Let’s just get you a new one, my treat.”

Now he does shake his head, “that’s not necessary, really. But thank you.”

And she just outright ignores him, making and then placing a fresh drink before him. And then she leans in, her elbows resting on the bar as she gives him a small look. One that is both serious and yet so so cheeky, and he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Just between you and me, booze is never necessary,” she shakes her head softly, “but it does help sometimes.” She gives him a small half smile, as she pushes off the bar to stand back up, before knocking her knuckles on the top as if to get his full attention. But little does she know, she already has it. “I hope it’s able to help you tonight, big guy,” she says, not unkindly, not as if he needed the booze to actually help him. More sweetly, hopefully even, as if she prays this final drink will be the last moment in his bad times, and once it’s finished all his worries will just disappear, like the booze in his glass.

And he hopes so too.

Bucky’s voice pulls his attention back from his phone, where he’d once again been going over their texts. Still trying desperately to find where it all went wrong. He’d deleted everything else about her off his phone, but 2 months ago, when his thumb had hovered over the delete button for their text conversation for the first time, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready to delete that final piece of her. Probably due to the small hope in him that they could still fix this, that this was just a hurdle they had to work themselves through.

Deleting photos is one thing, you can just take new ones. You can find most of the photos, the important ones anyway, scattered throughout social media, if you really wanted them back. But deleting the text thread, that was so final. There was no going back from that. There was no getting all those little moments back. No way to remember and relive those Good Mornings and Sweet Dreams. No way to laugh over the silly conversations over her boss embarrassing himself, or the hilarious chats they had over Tony’s daily antics. There was no way to replay the sweet words typed to cheer the other up, or remind the other of their undying love.

He almost wants to laugh sardonically at that last thought. ‘Undying love’ his America’s ass, it was clearly anything but that.

"I know you loved her, but it's over now, pal,” Bucky says gently, but Steve can’t miss the finality in his friends words. He had spent the last 2 months since he walked out of her apartment moping around the tower. All his friends had been trying to cheer him up, trying to help him through it, help him move on from it, but he just wasn’t ready yet. “It’s never easy to walk away, but you gotta let her go. It’ll be okay soon, you’ll see.”

Steve just nods numbly as he clutches the phone tightly in his hand, a momentary thought that if he tightens his hold even just a fraction more, the phone will be crushed. Broken beyond repair. And maybe that would be for the best? Then their texts would just be gone, and he wouldn’t have to be the one to delete them. He wouldn’t have to put forth the effort to finally click delete, like he’s tried and failed multiple times to do over the last 2 months.

“It's gonna hurt for a bit of time,” Sam adds softly, as if handling a wild animal that could snap and kill him at any moment, if he even so much as makes a single wrong move. And maybe that’s smart on Sam's part, maybe Steve is a wild animal right now. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want to hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to be coddled anymore, he doesn’t want to be the reason his friends feel like they have to walk on eggshells around him anymore. But heartbreak does insane things to a person. Sam gives Steve a small, pensive smile as if assessing him for a moment. He seems to find whatever he was searching for, Steve guesses, as he motions to the half empty drink in front of Steve. The very one Bucky had doused with Asgardian Mead right after they had been delivered to their table. “So bottoms up, let's just forget tonight. You'll find another one, one day, man, and you'll be just fine. But you gotta let her go first."

Steve nods once more, as he forces his phone into his jeans pocket, feeling the warm metal slide along his thigh as it goes. He raises the drink up to his lips and drains the remains, before he’s even put the glass back down on the table, Bucky’s hand is in the air, calling the bartender over with another round.

He is starting to feel the mead now, it’s starting to fill him with a fuzzy warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. His mind is becoming more muddled and hazy, but in all the best ways. He takes a deep breath in, relishing the blankness the liquor is painting his mind now. It’s a welcome reprieve after the 2 months he’s just had.

“Here ya are, guys,” the bartender says as she places down three fresh drinks.

And Steve furrows his brows at the familiar sweet voice. His eyes snap up from the table and land on that same bartender he’d talked to, two months back. He hadn’t seen her once since they’d arrived here an hour ago, and he figures she must work the later shift. As the first time he was here, by himself, she hadn’t been the original one to help him. Her inquiry into his state had been their first interaction, he hadn’t even noticed that night, in his hurt and heartbroken little bubble, when she’d relieved the male bartender. The original one who’d been supplying his drinks for the first 2 hours of his first visit.

And now, once again, he hadn’t even noticed her relieve the male bartender. Hadn’t even noticed her enter the pub. Hadn’t even noticed her approach their table. How he hadn’t, he has no idea. His eyes take her in, more fully this time than the last. She’s beautiful. How had he missed that before?

Her eyes drift over to his, as if she can feel him looking. A flash of confusion in her eyes is followed very closely by what he thinks is recognition, and then the small uptick of the corners of her lips follows them both. “How ya holding up, big guy?”

And yep, it was in fact recognition he’d thought he saw.

Steve feels the involuntary smile pulling on the edges of his lips, and he does nothing to stop it from happening. He hasn’t smiled, even a small one, in months, and he can’t bring himself to kill this one now. It’s nothing to write home about, but it’s a small step in the right direction. “I’ll be alright, soon enough,” he replies, the words sounding just a little better this time around. Just a little less like a lie, just a little more truthful, hopeful even.

Her smile grows just a tad bigger at his words, and a small, soft voice in the back of his mind informs him that she’s even more beautiful when she smiles.

“That’s really good to hear, you don’t suit the frown,” she says honestly, as their eyes stay locked for just a second more, before she breaks the contact to glance around the table to his two best friends. “If you guys need anything else, just holler,” then she gives him a final glance, paired with a small nod before she heads back over to the bar. And if Steve said he didn’t watch her make her way back over to the other side of the pub, he’d be a liar.

“Now I understand why he was so insistent on coming here tonight,” Sam mutters under his breath to Bucky, fully aware Steve also has super soldier hearing and would catch every word.

And he had, as he now rolls them over in his mind a few times, and honestly, he’d just wanted to come back here because he’d liked the atmosphere. He’d liked that no one gawked at him, or bothered him. Everyone here had just seemed in their own little worlds, much like he’d been—Or at least that’s the excuse his mind had conjured up for his true reasonings behind not wanting to go anywhere else, for his first time out in 2 months.

But maybe that wasn’t the real reason at all. Maybe he hadn’t even realized the true drive to return to this little obscure pub, tucked away between a flower shop and a thrift store.

Steve finally drags his eyes away from the beautiful bartender and back to his friends, not missing the looks they are both sending him now. He just stays silent, refusing to say a single word. Refusing to fill in the blanks around the interaction he’d just had with the beautiful bartender.

“So,” Bucky says slowly, after a few silent moments, about to voice the question that’d just been lingering in the air around them. Clearly his curiosity couldn’t handle waiting any longer for the answer to come on it’s own. “You gonna share who the pretty dame is, Punk, or?” he trails off there, and Steve watches as one corner of his best pals lips slowly tilts up in an interested but cheeky smirk, growing with every passing second that Steve doesn’t reply.

He fights his own smile entirely this time, as he pulls his phone from his pocket, while he answers flatly, vaguely, “the bartender.” Steve is a little shit, and he is completely aware of that fact.

Bucky sighs exasperatedly, that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, Steve guesses, “I meant, what’s her name, ya cheeky bugger.”

Steve snorts as he stares intently at the screen of his phone, he knows his next reply isn’t going to satisfy his friends curiosity anymore than his last one did. He shrugs, nonchalantly, as his eyes drift back to her behind the bar, “dunno, never actually got her name.”

Bucky groans into his glass at his lips, but the chuckle that follows it shows he wasn’t really that upset. And Sam playfully mutters something Steve couldn’t quite hear. Or maybe he just didn’t care to listen hard enough to actually hear him.

“You planning on finding out her name?” Sam asks after a moment, his voice is much louder this time.

Steve finally turns back to his friends. “Yeah, maybe one day,” he replies, taking a sip of his drink and instantly noticing Bucky had already added the mead to it. When had he done that? Beats Steve. Was he complaining? Not in the slightest. “When I’m ready,” he adds as his eyes drop down to his phone’s screen once more, and with a deep stabilizing inhale and a resolved exhale, he finally clicks ‘delete.’

It’s time to start actually letting her go now.

His heart pumps in his ears, not much louder or faster than usual, but he can hear it so clearly in the early morning silence. It’s his first run through the park in months, he’d been away on basically back to back missions for the last 6. Throwing himself head first into whatever and wherever he was needed. He’d just got off a 4 week undercover mission in Italy, and had finally decided it was time for a break. It was time to just be home for a bit and settle back into normal everyday life.

When he’d first started accepting and requesting missions 6 months ago, it had been for the distraction. It had been to put his brain power to a better use, instead of sitting around and mopping about his breakup. He’d needed missions to keep him out of the dark places in his head, to keep him away from the ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’.

But after a couple months, he no longer felt like he needed the distraction anymore. He felt like he was through the worst of it, but he feared that was only because he was still out there, still working away and doing his part to help the world. So he’d just continued on, taking any and every mission presented to him. His friends had started to worry he was pushing himself too much, that he was forcing himself to keep going too hard. And yeah, they were probably right, he probably was.

But his fear of coming home, only to instantly have all those deep emotions he’d been trying to, and successfully, escaping, kept him going. His fears that the second he stopped, they’d all come flooding back. That he’d find himself nowhere near as healed and moved on as he’d truly thought he was while away.

But even super soldiers needed a break sometimes. So after these last 4 weeks of pretending to be someone else entirely, he decided it was time to drop all the personas and just be Steve Rogers for a while.

The first few days back, he waited impatiently for the emotions and heartache to come. He waited for his mind to drift to those dark places once again. But after a week of being home, neither of those things ever happened. He still felt like he had out there in the world, working away every day. And the realization that he had actually let her go now, was a glorious one indeed.

So glorious that his friends believed a celebration was in order. Though they pretended that wasn’t the reason behind it at all, that it was just a ‘welcome home’ party for Steve. One that for some reason wasn’t even mentioned when he’d actually come home, but instead a week later. And yes, everyone had been present in the tower for the last week, so that wasn’t the excuse. And no, no one had brought this up once over the last week. It had only been decided on this morning by Tony, and he’d used the exact words ‘a welcome back party for Cap’. Steve believed the welcome back part was referring more to his mental state, than his physical one, but he’d let them have their party. And he’d enjoy it too, having missed them all immensely over the last few mon—

He felt it before he heard it, the impact of something small slamming into him, followed by a sound of someone's breath leaving their lungs with force, “ooof.”

His arms luckily worked faster than his brain, and managed to catch whoever Steve had just ran right into. His eyes taking just a few seconds longer to get the memo, before they dropped down to inspect the poor person he had just about barrelled down, but their head was still clasped delicately but firmly to his chest so he couldn’t make out if they were actually okay or not.

The smaller form quickly extracts themselves from the embrace, untangling their arms from around him, where they’d clearly also reacted hastily to prevent their swift meeting with the ground. And as they are pulling back, a sweet voice meets his ears and causes him to perk up. “I’m so sorry, are you alright? I was not paying any attention to where I was—“

His eyes widen for just a second, not long enough to be noticeable to anyone but him, before he quickly catches and corrects it. Of all people to slam into, it had to be her.

No, not her, her. Her, as in the beautiful bartender. And Steve can’t help it as his eyes take her in once again, more thoroughly this time, taking in new details of her face that he hadn’t even noticed the last two times he’s seen her. In his defence though, he had a lot going on back then, and the pub wasn’t exactly brightly lit. At least nowhere near as bright as this open and airy spot in the park is, what with the glorious summer morning sun lighting up the world around them both.

His heart flutters just a little, when he sees the shock morph into recognition, then finally into something he can only believe is happiness. Fondness even.

“I’ll be alright,” he says as a small cheeky grin plays on his lips, he is well aware he’s basically only ever said the same few words to her, but he likes how they have changed a little each time he’s said them, “soon enough.”

Her smile now matches the sun shining down on them both, and the soft voice from before, the one at the back of his mind, is a little louder this time, as it informs him that she is stunning when she smiles like that.

“And this time, I actually believe you, big guy,” she nods, and he can’t miss her smile shifting into a grin. A cheeky as hell one, and Steve decides he likes that smile best. If he’s honest, it suits her best, at least from what he can tell. She playfully rubs at her head as if it was hurting her, “but for real, what are you made of, freaking lead?”

He chuckles deep in his chest, shaking his head, “some days, I definitely think I am.”

She giggles at that, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. It’s something that he feels like he could never get sick of hearing, no matter how many times he does. Then, the next place his mind goes is that he desperately wants to hear it again.

However, all those thoughts fly out of his head when what just happened finally clicks fully in, and he instantly wants to kick himself for not asking this yet. “Are you alright though? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His eyes roam over her, not to ogle, but just to assess that she is in fact okay. As if he could actually tell just by looking, the schmuck.

She nods, “oh yes, I’m okay. Not the first time I’ve distractedly walked into someone. And it definitely won’t be the last,” she chuckles softly at that.

Steve signs in relief, glad he hadn’t hurt her, then something in him pushes his next words out, as if he were the most confident man on the planet, “are you heading somewhere right now? Could I buy you a coffee, to make up for the whole running into you thing?”

A light pink dusts her cheeks, as she glances down at the ground shyly, “I would love nothing more then to say yes to that offer, but I’m actually just heading to the pub to deal with a few last minute issues. And I’m already running rather late.” She glances back up at him, a small frown marring her features in a way that makes Steve want to do everything in his power to bring back her sunshine.

He doesn’t though, and instead just nods, as disappointment seeps through him, but he hides it as best he can behind a small understanding smile. “That’s alright, another time then.”

She chews on her lower lip for a second, and he can’t miss the internal battle clear as the day in her eyes. Like she wants to just say ‘fuck it’ and go to coffee with him, but she knows she has somewhere else to be. With a small sigh, she nods, “another time for sure.” She glances down at her watch, and a small groan leaves her lips, before she looks back up at him. “I’m so sorry, I really have to go, but it was so nice seeing you again, big guy.” She goes to walk passed him, but halts and glances up at him once more, “come visit me one night soon?”

He smiles down at her, a small nod of his head, “of course.”

Her smile grows bright and brilliant once again before she heads off towards the pub. Steve glances over his shoulder to watch her leave, and just as he is about to focus back on his morning run, he swears he hears her mutter “stupid Tony Stark.”

But he couldn’t have heard that right, right?

He shakes his head and then starts running in the opposite direction, on his way back to the tower. Already planning his next visit to the pub, his next chance to see the beautiful bartender, that seems to be slowly infiltrating his mind. In all the best ways.

He stands stunned on the sidewalk, staring up at the outside of the establishment Tony had booked for his ‘welcome back’ party. The very same establishment he’d been planning all day to visit, the first evening he has off this week. Was this just a coincidence? Had Tony just booked this place by complete fluke?

One glance at the man in question, then to his two best friends, tells him this was no mistake. This was all planned perfectly, in their minds. He sighs as he shakes his head to himself, he isn’t sure what the entire night's plan is, and he hopes it won’t be too embarrassing. But with his group of friends, it probably will be.

Tony is the first to move towards the door, all the avengers having stood on the sidewalk for a moment to allow their pub choice to really sink in. To all watch his reaction to their party venue for the night. And it hits him then, that his entire team now clearly knows of the beautiful bartender. He glances at Sam and Bucky, both looking a little bashful and he knows they spilled the beans.

Probably not on purpose though, because they did work with spies. And talking to Nat could turn into an interrogation real quick. Without her victim even realizing it. If she got even a hint of you hiding something, she would expertly have you telling her all your dirty secrets before you even noticed it.

And Clint, well, you never really knew where he was at any given moment, so he overheard way more than he should. But never gave too much indication that he knew anything, most times. Spies—Steve chuckles as he starts to follow his friends into the pub—ya couldn’t keep a damn thing away from them.

And as for Tony, Steve is positive he had Friday inform him whenever a couple team members were having a deep conversation. Steve is also positive that Tony has specific trigger words for Friday to listen out for, and inform him the second one is uttered aloud. Things like: Date, Kiss, Mistake, Mad, Pissed, or Tell me—and honestly, probably hundreds more. Just small words that could be a part of a much more risqué conversation. Because Tony seemed to also just know everything about everyone. He always had some form of blackmail at his disposal.

Just as he is about to head through the door, a familiar sweet voice hits his ears.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, Welcome to The Black Swan,” the lovely voice pauses as the rest of them make it through the door. The group probably looking rather intimidating, all huddled in the entrance of the pub. “Is this your whole party?”

“It is,” Tony replies as he looks around the quaint pub in curiosity.

Steve’s eyes finally land on her, as hers quickly assess all the party members, and when they skim right past him, he is almost sad for it. That is, until she double takes, and shock fills her face. She corrects it quickly, and gives him a small hesitant smile before shifting her eyes back to Tony. “The party room is all set up for you guys, if you’ll just follow me.”

He follows behind dutifully, as she leads them through the scarcely occupied pub, and to a set of double doors that he’d never noticed before. Not that he’d been here often, nor was he too caring of his full surroundings those first two visits. She pushes open the doors, motioning for the group to enter the room, as she states, “make yourself at home, everyone. Kelly and Michael will be your tenders tonight, and they’ll come in to take your orders in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” the group says or mutters collectively, in response as they make their way into the small banquet room.

As he passes by her, he sends her a smile, and she returns it, though it’s nowhere near as bright as earlier in the park. It almost looks uncomfortable. Forced even. And he wants to question if she’s alright this time, but she nods and walks off before he can even utter a sound. He watches her go, once again, before he shakes his head, making a note to track her down later, and privately see if she is okay.

His eyes move to the room, as he is the last one to enter, and it’s not a banquet hall at all, it’s more of a lounge. Inviting and plush black leather couches and chairs are set up in the middle of the room. A few tables around and between them, plus near the edges of the room, with soft lighting overhead. Old black and white photos and prints scattered across the walls, showcasing the pub and its guests throughout the years.

Steve decides he rather likes this room, likes the atmosphere just as much as the rest of the pub. It’s inviting, and casual, and airy, and, and friendly; all things he appreciates, and is sure has entirely to do with the beautiful bartender. Or at least, he believes it has to do with her at least.

“Well, you all heard the woman, make yourselves comfortable,” Tony chirps as he heads over to one of the big black chairs and plops himself down unceremoniously. Which causes Steve to chuckle through a head shake as he heads over to get seated with the others.

“Is she the owner?” Bucky pipes up after everyone has settled. The question to anyone else’s ears would just sound nonchalant and unimportant. Like it was just a random question that popped into his head just now. But the look in Bucky’s eyes, as he’d stared Steve down while asking, tells him it very much wasn’t a random question, but instead a well played and quickly planned attack.

“Little miss?” Tony clarifies, tilting his head towards the door, and Bucky gives him a nod in confirmation, then he answers a second later. “Yeah, she is. Sweet girl,” he notes, “had a wonderful chat with her this morning. I was intrigued, she isn’t that old, yet she fully owns this place all on her own.” His eyes catch Steve’s, “we just talked business for a bit. I enjoy learning how others amassed their empires, even the small ones.”

And yep, Steve is fully aware, from the cheeky look in Tony’s eyes, that he knows the entire story behind his small, and few, interactions with the beautiful barten—bar owner, he corrects. Tony wasn’t curious about how she acquired the pub at a young age, he was just digging for information for his own personal gains. Maybe he just wanted to know enough about her so he could run a background check or something.

Or maybe it was for entirely different reasons, Steve can’t be sure at the moment. But what he is sure of, is that Tony will let him know the exact reasons behind his lengthy talk with her, soon enough.

The night goes well, minus the lack of a beautiful bar owner, but that’s just a Steve problem. As he glances around the room at his friends, his family, all at different stages of intoxication, him and Bucky included, he smiles. He really did miss them all, just as he’d missed nights like this. Ones where he felt like himself, like at this very moment he had not a single care in the world. Like he hadn’t just gone through a breakup, the end of his 2 year relationship with a woman he thought he’d grow old with.

He missed being able to just have a fun and relaxed evening with his friends, not having to hide any part of him away and plaster on a fake smile to play the part of a well adjusted man. Instead, his smile was real, and he wasn’t hiding a damn thing.

Bucky had smuggled more mead into the pub with them, so Steve was feeling the effects of it right about now. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to be a little less sober than he normally was. Tipsy, as Sam always called it.

His eyes adjust to the pool table before him, after a few drinks, a few team members had decided a game of pool was in order. So the ones who wanted to partake, had left the sanctum of the lounge and ventured into the main part of the pub to take over one of the pool tables. Right now, Sam and Bucky were up against Nat and Clint, and the game was getting a little intense. Both sides wanting to win it all, for the bragging rights and the meagre funds they’d all placed down in the beginning. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was more then they’d all walked in the joint with.

Steve was standing off to the side, his mead spiked drink in hand, watching the intense battle as it played out. Every so often, his eyes would drift to the bar, seeking out a familiar form, but they’d never find the one they were looking for. He checked his watch, seeing it was nearing 11, and he is pretty sure, if his memory is accurate—which it usually is, that she normally started her shifts around that time. At least from the hazy memories in his mind, he is pretty sure that’s correct. He’d never really been looking at the time, both his other visits here. Though he’d spent a lot of those two times staring at his phone’s screen. Not at the time, but he could just remember it on the edges of his memories. Peeking just above where his eyes were focused on, both those nights.

And yeah, he’s pretty sure both times he’d seen her for the first time those two evenings, was just after 11. Almost completely positive about it, actually.

His eyes check his watch once more, seeing it’s just passed 11, and then they flick up to the bar once again. And yep, there she is, in all her radiant and relaxed glory, he notes quickly in his mind. And before he can think better of it, he’s making his way towards the bar, unconsciously seeking out her presence. As if he just needs to be closer to her, he just needs some small piece of her attention. Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s something more. He doesn’t dig deeper into the true reasons behind it, and instead just allows his body to make the calls all on it’s own. He isn’t complaining with the direction it’s taking him currently, anyways.

He takes a seat in an open spot at the bar, placing his drink down in front of him as he does. She is busy making someone else’s drink at the moment, so he just waits patiently for her to notice him. Realize he is sitting here now, and come over to him on her own.

That doesn’t take long, once she finishes off the drink she glances down, as if again being able to sense his eyes on her, and makes her way towards him. Stopping once she is directly across the bar top from him.

“Hey, big guy,” she sends him a small smile, the nickname she’s always used for him making him return the gesture, “need a refill?”

He glances momentarily down at his drink, before gently shaking his head, “no. I’m okay for now.”

She nods, and before she can take her leave, he pipes up, “so, you own the place?”

Her eyes leave him, and travel around the space fondly, “I do.” Then they find his again, as she leans on the bar top, just like his first time here. And when her voice comes out, it’s just above a whisper, keeping her words between them, and only them, “so, you’re an Avenger?”

Steve grins, as her earlier reactions make more sense to him now. She obviously hadn’t realized who he was the first two visits, not till he showed up with the whole team of world saving superheroes, and looking like the only one who’d fit the original Captains descriptions.

“I am,” he nods, taking a sip of his drink but not taking his eyes off her. He doesn’t want to miss a damn thing.

She nods, the cheeky look back on her face. The exact one he is really starting to enjoy more and more, everytime he sees it, “and their Captain at that.”

“I was,” he corrects. “Gave that title over to Sam a few years back. Wanted to step back a bit, maybe finally have a life of my own.”

“And how did that go for you?” She asks, intrigued, “Did you get the life you wanted?”

He thinks the innocent question over, not missing the small, yet deep undertones within it. Or at least what his mind takes as a deeper underlying meankng, just due to all he’s personally been through since handing the mantle of the Captain over to Sam. He hums, answering truthfully, “at first, it went well. I thought I’d found it in the beginning, but I’m realizing more and more that I hadn’t actually found it. Not truly, at least. Not in the way I’d thought.”

She hums in understanding, nodding her head softly, and then she looks him dead in the eye, “so, what are you going to do about that then, big guy?”

He thinks the question over for a moment again, he’s never told her about his ex, or why he’d ended up in this pub 8 months back, but the twinkle in her eye tells him she’d figured it out. Or at least figured out the basics. That she understands that his words truly meant he thought he had found a life with his ex, but then he hadn’t in the end. And now he needs to figure out where to go from that. Where he wants his own life to go. No more living it for someone else, he needs to live it for himself. For Steve Rogers, the scrappy little kid from Brooklyn.

He gives her a small smile, taking a sip of his drink before he answers, “I’m going to try again.”

She smiles brightly at him, “that’s a wonderful idea, Steve. You deserve the world, and don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t.”

He nods, trying to hide how much he loved hearing his name fall so effortlessly from her lips. “I won’t. Promise.”

She nods, pleased with his answer, then glances down the bar before turning back to him as she pushes off the top, “well, duty calls.” She gestures to his glass, “need a refill before I go?”

Steve shakes his head softly, “no, I think this is my last one for the night.” For awhile, he actually means.

She nods once more, a small happy smile on her lips, before she ventures off to help someone else, and Steve gets up to head back over to the pool tables. To his friends.

But all throughout the rest of the night, he finds himself still glancing back at the beautiful bar owner, as she floats around happily in her own little world. In her element. In the space she’d built entirely by herself. For herself. Something Steve knows he needs to do for himself, as well, he needs to build the world around him that he wants. The life he deserves, entirely on his own and just for him. Not for anyone else.

And as Steve glances at her once more, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so breathtaking in his life—No, scratch that. He is positive he never has. He knows for a fact, that he hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

And as the night draws to an end and Steve heads back to his house, walking part way with his friends, he finally realizes that he will in fact Be Alright. Completely and entirely, Soon Enough.

Part 2:Soon Enough - will be up in a few days!

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[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson- Chapter 7: Non-Productive Time

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: On a slow afternoon, Shane remembers a couple of fun evenings with Sy, and can’t help but start texting him…he turns out to be a bad influence.

Don’t want spoilers? Click me first to catch up!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, a steamy scene that bumps up against the line of smut/not smut…it looks like smuttish is, in fact, a thing, (see what I did there? Toss a high five to your fic writer for the paraphrased Witcher quote in these here notes! lol! Sorry, i’m tired...and in a weird mood tonight...) so, anyway, using that. I love it. 

Author’s Note: This chapter was about half done before I even started SI1 and SI2! So that’s why it’s come along so quickly in the wake of them. It could also mean that there are some continuity issues…I found a couple during the re-write of the first part, and more when I was proofing, so it should be good, but…fair warning, one or more could have escaped me! Also, let me know if the text convo is hard to follow. I’ll try to reconfigure it to be more clear. It seemed to me like context was enough, and they’d had text convos before, and no one said anything…this one’s longer by about 300%, though, so…feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@onlyhenrys

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@summersong69

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@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby

@suavechops

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

Time seemed to pass slowly when Shane wasn’t with Sy. When they weren’t having dinner together, or doing their typical date thing. She thought about their second date. One of the bars in town, chosen for its above average bar food but mostly, it’s pool tables. The warning he’d given her via text had made her laugh:

We’re goin’ to Cade’s for apps and pool, if that's okay. As gorgeous as you looked in that blue dress you wore last night, I recommend jeans and a T-shirt for tonight, okay?

She took his suggestion. A simple black tee, because she was a food klutz from hell, layered over a red camisole, and her favorite jeans. It showed off her dainty arrow necklace well.

While they played, they drank beer and talked about life, getting deeper into things than they could at therapy sessions.

“Dad split when I was about ten, I guess. Mom did her best with her only son, but she sent me to my grandpa’s a lot when she was working or just…needing her own time. He’d been an army man. Fought in Korea. His dad was in World War II. It felt like…I don’t know, this pull, like I was meant to join up.”

“Destiny?” She asked. A dreamy tone overtook him when he talked about his family and his now former career.

“I guess. Never though too much of all that before.”

They smiled at one another. Knowing.

“What was he like? Your grandpa?”

“Oh, Pap was the best. He was a mechanic in the service and so he could get anything hummin, ya know? We fixed up and built motors for all kinds a’ shit. My first car was a ‘67 Shelby Mustang with the fast back all because when I was about 14, he found most of one at a salvage yard and basically rescued it from the crusher. Got it for about nothin’. For two years we collected parts and did body work on that thing. And by the time I turned sixteen, it was the most beautiful, show-ready Kerry green machine you ever seen.”

“One of my favorite cars! I’d love to see pictures!”

“I’ve still got ‘er.” He grinned. “When Pap died, it got…hard for me to drive her, ya know? So…special occasions only now. And he left me his truck, which he’d just bought brand new while I was on my first tour. That F150 crew cab we came here in, with all the bells 'n whistles. I couldn’t let such a fine automobile go to waste.” He grinned.

“You’re such a gear head.” She chuckled.

“Hey, you may be glad about that when you need somebody to get your own motor humming.” He teased back at her, bending over the table to take his shot and sinking it deftly. He said they would only play for fun, but he was still winning this round…which she didn’t think was that fun.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“The shot, or the innuendo?” He asked to clarify.

“Yes.” They laughed. He eventually did miss, making it her turn.

"Ya know, I'm disappointed in this date, Shane." He baited.

"How come?" she asked, a bit hurt.

"A guy only asks a girl to play pool with him so he can show her how to shoot…and you already know."

It was true. She'd played a lot growing up and even a bit as she got older. She and her siblings loved billiards. Her whole family, really. And although she was no professional, she wasn't half bad for an amateur.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, sizing up the table for her next shot, but knowing with a fair amount of certainty what he was implying.

"You know. I wanted to get all close to ya. Show ya how to grip that cue in your hand. How to stand, bent at the hip, where to eyeball your shot from." he smiled. "All that shit ya see in movies that makes the girl all nervous and excited that the guy's touchin' on her. Pressed up against her."

Shane grinned, picked up the small, blue cube of chalk and rolled the concave side over the tip of her cue…she had no need to do so, most people didn't, really…but she made herself look really sexy doing it and asked Sy, "Is that right? Well, I guess you'll have to find another way to get your cheap thrills, because this girl has been known to run a table." She bent over the green felt seductively, the angle at which she did so displaying her décolletage in his direction just enough to tantalize him into licking his lips. She took her shot at the 10 ball, but sunk the 8 instead, losing her the game…damn. She shouldn't have gotten cocky.

"Run it where, sunshine? Into the ground? Off a cliff?" he laughed as she stomped over and began to poke him mercilessly in the ribs.

"Come on, Minnesota Fats. Let's pay the tab and find something a little cozier to do."

"Oka--wait, did you just call me fat?" he was incredulous. She laughed.

"Oh my God, you thought YOU were gonna teach ME about billiards…Minnesota Fats is like the most famous pool player of ever. I am not calling you fat."

"You messin' with me?" he squinted.

"Sy, google it. I promise. I would never call you fat. You're… my sexy man bear."

"Technically a bear is a fat animal." he sulked.

"Why don't you tell that to one when it's chasing you down to make a meal of ya!" Shane laughed. "Come on. Remember? I think I mentioned something about… finding another way for you to get cheap thrills. Lets explore that, shall we?" she whispered into his ear. He dropped some bills on their table nearby to more than cover their food and beer, and they hauled ass into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had definitely been exploring. In the two weeks since they'd been given the green light to see each other outside of therapy--the day Sy basically handed Shane's boss her own ass--they'd spent most evenings with each other, unless Shane had a particularly late evening at work or an early day the next day. A few nights, they had been together so late, that just staying over seemed the most reasonable option. But they had both agreed to take things slowly with the physical stuff. It had been a long time since either of them had been in a relationship, and given their patient/therapist situation, waiting a while for the sex had seemed like a good idea…on paper. On the sofa had been a different story.

One day last week, she'd had to make an early night of things, and stood up from his couch, but was pulled back down to straddle his lap.

"Hold on a minute, sunshine. Why don't you gimme a proper goodbye before ya go, hmm?" he held her so close to him at every curve of their bodies, like the pieces of a puzzle snapping flush together. His kisses were deep and agonizing, his beard gently brushing her mouth, teasing her with its uncommon softness. She returned the ardor, squeezing him in every way she could.

She couldn't contain the desire pooling at her center, especially when he clearly couldn't contain his, either, straining against his shorts, pressing against her so deliciously, right where she needed him. She didn't hold back. And he was nothing if not encouraging to her endeavor.

"That feels so good, baby. You're so warm. Mmm." he whispered as he nipped at her ear and bit at her neck. She hadn't intended to, but she felt herself slipping over the edge, into pure euphoria and gripped at his hair, still rather short, though growing out from the mandated buzz. The length made him even more sensitive and when she ran her hands up his neck and over the back of his head, the result was like an electric current straight to his manhood. His body tensed as his release followed hers seconds later.

"Fuck." he said. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" she was truly confused.

"For losin' it like a teenager." he sighed and laid his head against the back of his couch in surrender…an unfamiliar sight, Shane was certain.

"Don't worry about it. I mean…it's not quite how I pictured our first time, but--"

"Oh, hell no. This doesn't count as a TIME, sunshine. This is batting practice. A warm up.”

"Ooh, you and your baseball references again. I told you, I need to leave, Sy. You can't get me worked up with that kinda dirty talk." she kissed his cheek, and stood. "Walk me out?"

He did. And they stood holding one another in the dark, leaned up against her Explorer, Sy's back against the door, Shane's cheek on his bare, hairy chest, and the turning of the earth all but forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had to stop thinking about him. About their dates and the time they'd spent together. But her schedule had fallen apart for the day due to a nasty storm that had blown in, she had no more education to work on for now, and she could only clean and organize her treatment room and desk so thoroughly.

She guessed…the secretaries knew she was available if need be…and she was salaried…what was the harm in texting Sy? She'd stayed late and came in early and overworked herself in general so much for this clinic. She could justify a bit of downtime.

Hey! Whatcha doin?

Just did some exercises that my super hot PT gave me! *winky face emoji*

Uh-Oh, should I be jealous?

Mmm, hard to say, sunshine. I guess it'll depend on which one of you sleeps with me first. *devil emoji*

Smart money is on the one who’s already let you get to second base…and basically third, even though…does it count if it’s basically because of a dare. Induced by Jack Daniels?

I think it counts if you came…*smirk emoji*

Damn those skilled fingers and Tennessee whiskey.

What can I say. I told ya I knew how to get a motor humming. *cool guy emoji*

You certainly do. No doubt about that.

So how's your day goin', sunshine?

Eh, everyone's cancelled on me. I have no one until 4:00, and I have nothing to do until then. I've decided to see it as a blessing and text my favorite fella.

And when he didn't respond, you resorted to me? *smirk emoji*

Hey you know that you have no competition for my affection other than like, my dad…and Chris Evans. Lol

Your dad, I'm sure I couldn't compete with if I tried, from what you've told me. Chris…well, I'm a REAL captain, not some guy jumpin' around in tights.

Mmmm, shame. I bet you'd look good in a getup like that. *heart eyes emoji*

You think so?

Yup! *American flag emoji*

You wanna be my Black Widow?

I mean…I've already basically got a costume…*embarrassed monkey emoji*

*several lines of big eye emojis*

Yeah, a few Halloweens ago…I was Romanoff. Now you know. I'm a total nerd.

I'm a nerd, too, sunshine. Serious nerd.

How am I just finding out about this? There's next to no merch at your place, and you never wear typical nerd shirts…*skeptical face emoji*

You haven't seen my whole place…*wink emoji*

What, are you telling me you have Batman bedsheets? *lol emoji*

Oh, it's much…much worse than that. The bedroom is pretty neutral, but…I have a…kind of rec room in the basement that is basically nerd central.

Oh. Em. Gee. I can't WAIT to see that, Sy!!! And how dare you hold out on me!!!

Well, I mean, I didn't wanna lay out all my cards right off the bat. I'm playing the long game.

Ah, so, when do I get to see this nerd trap?

Come on over, sunshine. *smiley face*

I said, I've got a patient at 4:00.

Everyone's cancelled on you. Can't you cancel on them for once?

Not unless I'm violently ill do I ever have any patients cancelled on my behalf.

So…say you're violently ill and come see me. *shrugging man emoji*

I dunno, Sy…

I got stuff to make that soup you like…

She had made it clear to him how much she loved soup, especially a good creamy potato soup, and on one of their dates, he'd had her over and there was a big pot of the stuff on his stove, made from scratch. She'd never had better, and he almost got lucky that night…and I mean…he still got a little lucky. He cooked for her AND cleaned up, AND let her pick the movie that night. She still picked an action movie, because she wasn't really a romance movie type, overall. Even so. Could she leave him hanging?

She opened her thread with Heather in her messenger app on her laptop.

Heather, is there anyone who could take my last patient, Mr. Lopez?

Looks like Cheri has a cancel around that time. Need me to move him?

If you could. I'm not feeling well.

Are you pregnant?

Omg, every fucking time. Why when anything is amiss in a woman's life must it be pregnancy?! And why is it okay to ask that question?! Ugh! She loved Heather like a sister, and it probably was just a joke, but uuuuuugh!

Yes…yes I am. *eye roll emoji* I've got a killer headache that's making me queasy. I'll email Susan. Thanks.

You bet. Tell Sy I said hi. *wink emoji*

Shut up.

After a quick and concise email to her boss, she picked her phone back up. One unread message.

You there, sunshine?

She simply replied,

Get that soup ready, Captain, I'm on my way.

Up Next: Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

[fanficparker]

Under My Umbrella | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Swearing, angst, lots of tears, alcohol

Summary: The one where Harrison did the audacity to kiss his life-long best friend or his twin sister’s boyfriend.

A/N: Life is short and this is just a piece of fiction, why stop myself from posting it on my own blog?

PART 1 ♡

(Tom's POV)

"I am so sorry. OH GOD, I AM SO SORRY!"

I hear Harrison screaming on the top of his voice. My vision is blurry, the rain isn't allowing me to see much, although I am sure there is much more than just the rain pouring down his face; his tears were also streaming down along with it.

He had taken five steps away from me after kissing me in the rain and my world has already fallen apart. He is pulling at his curls so aggressively. He will hurt himself. I take a step towards him with my hands reaching out but he takes another step back.

He is drifting away from me. And I am drifting apart from myself.

I freeze on my feet. My heartbeat feels non-existent. I am confused. Am I dead or alive? If I am dead then where am I? Is it heaven or hell? It kind of feels like both.

Harrison has just kissed me. His taste is still lingering on my tongue. My head is spinning without even a single drop of alcohol. His touch did this to me. And now I am starving. Starving for more.

"I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have. Shit! I SHOULDN'T HAVE!"

"No... No... " I try to stop him but he's already running. My ankle is aching. I can't run fast, I can't catch his pace. Then, he slowly vanishes away from my sight.

"HARRISON! HARRISON... PLEASE STOP! Please stop... Please..." I scream, sinking down to the footpath. I was too late to scream. I was too late to stop him.

He's gone. He broke the promise.

***

I can hear those distinct lyrics as the soft music resonates in the air. It's the Ember Island's version— our favourite version. I am sitting here waiting for the interviewers to arrive but my mind keeps drifting off to the song.

"This is our song!" Harrison says as we are lying down on the bed.

"Umbrella? Really?" I ask, surprised.

He turns on his side and faces me, I do the same. His head rests on his elbow while my head is still on the pillow. We were looking at each other.

"Yeah..." His voice is soft. He hums and looks back at the ceiling while the music plays from his phone. He starts lip-syncing along with the lyrics, "Cause in the dark, you can't see shiny cars. And that's when you need me there with you, I'll always share. Because..."

"When the sun shine, we shine together. Told you I'll be here forever---"

"You are singing." RDJ chuckles sitting beside me. And I realise that I was actually singing. My stomach twists into a knot and my face gets warm.

"We can sing it together, kiddo!" He says, enthusiastically.

"I... er..." I try to stop him but he is already singing.

Why am I always late?

"Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh..." RDJ is singing, he is nodding his head sideways and is peaking at me occasionally.

The song is the same but the voice is different. The lyrics mean different when Harrison sang them. In Harrison's voice, they meant something but right now they are just raw. Hollow.

***

We are on the same magazine cover.

Oh my god.

We are on the same freaking magazine cover!

'The Spider-man 3 star tells us about his secret power food', The Hollywood Reporter headline reads with my gym photo-shoot as the background.

There are three more sub-headlines to the cover, placed near the right margin. The second one says, 'Harrison Osterfield: The young British actor tells us about his inspirational journey as the young face for Agent 007. (Pg. 3-4)'

The rumours were true. He has done it.

Oh my god. And I am not even there to congratulate him.

"I am so proud of you. I knew you would grab it!" Harrison bounces on his feet while I stand near him, blushing furiously.

"My mate is Spider-man! My mate is THE Spider-man!!" He proudly yells and keeps his palms on my shoulders. When I look up into his blue eyes, they are glossy and act like mirrors. I can see myself reflecting through them. Then I notice a little pinch of sadness shining through them.

"Don't forget me though..." He says slowly. His energetic voice started sounding cracked. It made me think for a moment.

I gulp, "You can be my assistant. I-It will help you... gain experience in the industry." I was planning to ask him this since my role was confirmed because how was I even supposed to step into my new, more chaotic life without my biggest support system?

He pulls back his arms from my shoulders and looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Yes!... Also, you know... I-I am kinda afraid going on the journey alone." I bite at my lower lip.

Just say yes, I pray silently.

"Oh, div! You'll not be alone there. You'll have big stars. All those fancy people, fancy life-style and those fancy---"

"These fancy things will never come in between us, Harrison," I cut his rambling off. He pauses and glances at me.

"I am alone without you..."

I am always alone without him.

I regret not saying always, even though it doesn't matter anymore.

My fingers flip through the pages, my eyes land on his half-page portrait. He was wearing a black and white formal suit; his index finger is pressed against his forehead as he is bent forward while his were eyes boring into the front. They are staring into my soul.

My breath hitches in my throat. It's just his portrait but those eyes. Those eyes. I avert my gaze from the picture to the text. He talks about his journey from school to landing this role. He talks about his family, he talks about his journey as my assistant and then he talks about me. I can hear his voice even when it's just plain text.

'I cannot thank Tom enough. He pushed me harder whenever I slowed down. He pulled me up when I fell down. I really look up to him.'

No Harrison, you are wrong. You pushed me harder when I slowed down. You pulled me up when I fell down. It's me who looks up to you.

"Oh em jee!" The teen girl squeals seeing me at the airport. Harrison and I were walking, dragging our trolleys. I was wearing a cap, sunglasses and even had my hoodie on yet she somehow spotted me. She ran towards me.

"You are Tom Holland! I am such a huge fan of you!!!" She is still squealing as she takes out her phone, asking me for a picture. I was really sleepy and sleep-deprived at the same time, but it still made me smile. I lowered my hoodie and took off my goggles.

Harrison was standing beside me, grinning too. I was ready for her to take a selfie with us but then she walks up to Harrison and points her phone to him.

"Huh?"

I see a little confusion appear on his face.

"Take our picture," She says almost disrespectfully. I feel a pang in my heart, I can't even imagine what he must be feeling. But then he looks at me, takes the phone and smiles.

The girl stands beside me, and Harrison is standing in front of us.

"Smile..." He whispers, looking at me in the eye, his face breaking into a bigger grin and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my own lips seeing him smile.

But I know he was sad from inside and even when I was physically present there, I wasn't still there to make him really smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

I am really sorry for making you feel left out when all you did was try to make me feel included. Sorry for every time I left you alone. Yet, you always kept smiling. How do you do that?

I seriously need to learn a lot from you...

***

I had stopped stalking him on social media weeks ago. It was taking a toll on my mental health. But much to my dismay, I had a notification of him mentioning me in his Instagram story. My finger hovers over the unseen story. I click to see it.

The story was completely black, he has even tagged me in black. This story is exclusively for me. The song plays in the background.

No. No.

He can't do this to me.

He can't fucking do this to me.

"Now that it's raining more than ever, Know that we still have each other, You can stand under my---"

I threw my phone at the wall and the song stops playing abruptly. I am sure that I broke the device. But at least the song has ended.

I hate him for this!

How can he do this do me? How can he go so low?

I sunk down to the floor of my room. I am not just crying, I am screaming. Just like that night when I sunk down to the footpath...

Harrison and I were walking on the wet footpath. The rain was only getting heavier but none of us cared. The occasional honking of vehicles or the whooshing sound of tires against the wet concrete didn't bother us either.

Our shoulders were bumping against each other while we talked and laughed at stupid things. We sometimes did it, went out to have an ice-cream and talked about everything. It cleared off our minds and provided us with a break from our busy lifestyles. Harrison was holding the umbrella over our head as he was the taller one. A small portion of my other shoulder was slightly wet even when we were super close to each other. The umbrella was small, so I shifted closer to him. But I accidentally twisted my ankle due to the slippery path.

"Ouch!" I stop, putting my arm across his shoulder to balance myself, lifting the injured foot in the air.

"What happened?" He asks in a voice full of concern, stopping his motions.

"My foot. I think... I got a sprain."

"Oh, Tom. I tell you to be careful." He says and hands me the umbrella while I shift towards the wall, supporting myself. He crouches down on the empty footpath and unties my sandals, holding my foot in his hand.

"At least I didn't break my nose this time." I chuckle but it ends up as a whimper when he twists my ankle.

"It looks mild," He declares, re-tieing my sandals and stands up. I smile at him in gratitude but he wasn't smiling back. My expression changes to reciprocate his'. Then I realise that he wasn't properly standing up. His knees were slightly bent and his face was at the same level as mine. We were staring at each other. He took a step closer to me and suddenly all my senses were shutting down. The only thing I could feel was how close he was to me, how the scent of his aftershave was the sweetest smell I have ever inhaled, how his eyes were staring at mine, how they flickered down to my lips, how they closed, how the sound of his shaky breath made my heart shiver, how his lips were feeling against mine, how his breath tasted of vanilla and chocolate...

My limbs lost all their strength and the umbrella fell down, drowning us both in pouring water. His hands came to hold mine as he interlaces his fingers through mine, giving them a little squeeze.

He was kissing away the water droplets off my lips. I didn't do anything. I just let him. Or maybe I was kissing him back but it was all... so natural. I have never felt so calm and protected in my life. The way his lips rolled over mine... I was completely intoxicated.

There was something intimate about rain. Something soothing. Your ears are drumming with the pitter-patter sound that you can't hear the regular hustle-bustle. For once I felt like Harrison and I were absolutely alone in this world. I liked that feeling.

But we weren't.

That's when the reality hit him and he panicked.

I was dating his twin sister.

PART 2 ♡

(Harrison's POV)

It's 5 am and I am still not sleeping. My headphones are plugged into my ears while I feel like an absolute piece of shit. Not just I have done the forbidden audacious task of falling for my best friend but also the heinous crime of kissing my sister's boyfriend.

Lily doesn't even know why Tom broke up with her after a relationship of over a year and that too, over the phone. She has no idea that the person she trusted so much for consoling her, the one she chose to cry in front of, the one she chose to hug, the one she chose to share her pain with was actually the sole creator of the pain. Her twin brother was nothing but a snake.

The day after I kissed Tom, there was a knock at my bedroom door in the middle of the night. As soon as the door opened, I stumbled back with what force Lily hugged me. She was crying into my t-shirt. Her behaviour confused me and an instant fear of something bad happening to her settled at the bottom of my heart; my brother instincts made my fists clench. I wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who had hurt her this way.

"Tom broke up with me," She utters in between her sobs. Her words acted like salt being rubbed over my open wounds.

Turns out I was also a hypocrite. I didn't kill myself.

I was helpless. I felt both like the criminal and the victim at the same time.

I hugged her back tighter, hiding my face in her hair.

"I am so sorry, Lily. I am so sorry," I whimpered and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled closer to me.

She thinks my sorries were of sympathy. No. They were my apology. But they feel hollow just like my heart and existence...

***

Out of so many editions, The Hollywood Reporter apparently, chose to put me and Tom on the same one. Seems like nature has decided to pull me inside the deepest guilt trap possible. I lock the magazine in my cupboard. I no more have any desire to look inside of it.

I haven't slept for the past twenty-four hours. I am so nervous. I feel so insecure. I want to talk about me landing a significant role to him. I know it's just me playing James Bond's younger version in a long flashback and not the real James Bond, but still...

He is the only one capable of calming my nerves after my mum. But sometimes mum couldn't, sometimes it's not her field of expertise. Sometimes only a friend could help you.

Tom was roasting marshmallows in this garden when I entered and sat beside him.

"What's up champ?" He says, not even looking at me.

I was quiet and looking down at my lap when he finally notices and turns to look at me.

"How's it going?" He asks. I look up to meet his soft brown eyes, instantly melting at the sight.

"Not well... I dunno... I feel weird. I don't know if you will want to hear my rant but--"

"Just vent to me. My ears are always open..." He says, patting my knee.

I nod my head. He knows exactly what I want. He listened to all my rambles with zero interruptions even when my mouth was stuffed with marshmallows, without judging me or passing any opinion...

Turns out the asking for help from Tom option doesn't exist anymore, considering he had blocked me after me mentioning him in that blank music story and now my and his names are bouncing all over- #1. The old fashioned, not being used for what it was first designed for: Instagram; #2. The infamous, super political, the lifeline of democratic announcements: Twitter; and #3. The safe from boomers, modern version of fanfiction dot net: Tumblr.

The fans think they know better about our situation then what I and (probably) Tom knows.

'Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield have unfollowed each other on Instagram!!!' reads one of the fan posts.

I didn't unfollow him, it's him who blocked me and that's how Instagram works. Our mutual following, likes, comment and tags on each other's posts are automatically removed.

'No, they haven't unfollowed each other. One of them has blocked the other!!!' reads the reblogged version.

Holy Shit! This user is far more observant (or a stalker) and knows how Instagram works. I know Tom isn't very good with the working of social media, but it also turns out that he doesn't know how this tabloid fan culture works too.

P. S. All these triple exclamation marks on the fan posts are making me freak out.

Also, I am so grateful that they all are unaware about Lily and Tom dating and their break-up, else they would have dragged her into the controversy too.

Thank God.

I have blocked the supposed tags they tag me with and limited my comment section, so I don't have to deal with any kind of questions, speculations or hate in general.

I feel bad for Tom, he hasn't done that yet. I don't even know if he knows there's an option for it. It can seriously degrade his mental health.

I wish I could tell him.

***

It's kind of awkward when people are watching you eat and in my case, my mum and my two sisters are gawking on me instead of eating their own food. Woman's stare is always intimidating and I am blessed with three female pairs of eyes on me.

"You know... You don't have to block Tom just because he broke up with me." Lily says, sitting across the dining table.

That almost made me choke on my food and drop the fork on the plate. I could already feel the glimmer of interest sparking in mum's and Charlotte's eyes. It is as if they all were planning to have this conversation with me for a long time.

But wait... Does she think that me deleting Tom from my life is because of her break-up?

Oh my god!

Was there too much miscommunication between us?

Wait...

There was no communication from my side.

"Harrison?"

It was my mum this time. She keeps her hand over my shoulder, her voice sounds super worried.

"What is it, Hazza?" She asks, lovingly. She speaks as if she knows it is more than Tom and Lily's break-up. But I don't know how to tell her...

The next moment, mum has shifted her chair near me and had engulfed me in a side hug. Soon Charlotte and Lily walked up to me and were covering me from all sides. That's when I realised that I was crying. No. I wasn't just crying, I was sobbing. It was even difficult for me to breathe.

I need air.

I excuse myself and got up. They don't ask anything, maybe in an attempt to go slow with me. I really appreciate the gesture.

***

That's how I end up in this pub, pouring my heart out to a stranger. He's carefully listening to me, while occasionally sipping his drink and nodding his head. It really feels good to be listened to. I am telling everything to him from the exact beginning and how I fell for my best friend and then he started dating my sister and then how everything came crashing down...

"That's really fucked up, friend!" He comments in his Indian accent.

He was a trans-man who found me sitting in the corner with a cigarette in my hand. I wasn't even smoking but lost in thoughts. The stick was almost going to burn my fingers when he came and slapped it away and now he was listening to everything I was saying.

And then he's narrating his own sad love story to me and oh my god it's so much worse than me, yet he's pretending that I am the worse affected.

"And that's how she killed herself and I couldn't do anything..." He finishes as I blink. Like a fish, my mouth opens and closes, I instantly gulp my beer in one go in order to not look like a fool who has nothing good and uplifting to reply.

"That's really sad..." I somehow manage to say.

"Yeah. It is..."

I seriously need to go, else I will breakdown crying. I excuse myself and leave, I am not even drunk enough which sucks.

***

There is a guy walking in front of me on the pavement and he's really really drunk, unlike me. I really want to reach home fast and lay under my soft blankets but this guy is walking, occupying the whole pavement, stumbling on his feet with every step. He stumbles harder this time, about to fall face-first on the concrete. I rush forward and catch him.

My hands feel as if they were made of hard ice when I see his face.

He chuckles, "I know you are not Harrison... but I am seeing him everywhere. So funny... haha..."

"Tom..." I whisper and he starts to cry. He seriously looks like shit. His shirt is all wet and hairs are super messy. It's hard to even see him like this. I throw my arm around his shoulder and place his hand around my neck and get him straight on his feet. I try my best to walk him to my house.

Mum was terrified of seeing Tom like this, so were Charlotte and Lily. Although, Lily helped me carry him to my room, while he was babbling some unintelligible stuff.

We lay him over my bad.

"You should change his shirt, it's really dirty," Lily suggests and walks out of the room, giving us privacy. I intake a sharp breath as I drag the half-asleep, completely drunk Tom to sit up on the bed. And before I could pull his shirt up, he's puking over my chest. I back up.

"Sorry..." He mutters and falls over the mattress.

I gotta' change my shirt too.

My hands reach to the edge of my shirt as I try to pull it up but then I see Tom, and suddenly it feels wrong. Hasn't he seen me shirtless like thousand times before? And he's not even completely conscious... Yet, I turn my back to him and change into a new jumper. Then I struggle to get Tom changed too, making him wear one of my hoodies and then throw both our dirty clothes to my laundry basket.

"You should wash your face and brush your teeth. It will feel nice..." I suggest, not sure if he was even listening to me. I again get him down on his feet and carry him to the bathroom where I splash cold water over his face. He drinks some water too. And then he's brushing his teeth, a little messily though.

As we complete, he refuses to go back to my room and instead, tries to sit on the bathroom floor, too tired to walk back. The next moment I find myself lifting him up with my arms tucked below his knees and the back of his neck. He's heavier than I anticipated but when he holds my shoulder and snuggles close to my chest with his warm breath hitting directly over my neck; my knees feel like noodles. I try my best to not look down at his face or fall down and successfully carry him back to my room and get him back on the bed.

"Haz, I need to talk about something..."

I flinch hearing Lily's voice. I turn on my feet and see her standing by my door. Warmth rushes to my face, realising- she must have seen me carrying Tom in my arms...

I swallow and walk towards her as she walks outside the room and shuts the door behind us.

She takes in a jitterybreath, "I really think..." She hesitates for a second, "Tom likes you... more than a friend and more than how he likes me..."

"I-I-I---" I try to speak but only a ragged stammer comes out, not expecting this conversation at all.

"He always talks about you and when he finds me wearing your clothes..." She fidgets with her fingers, "He gives me extra attention and... asks me not to remove them while we have... sex..." She pauses, looking embarrassed. I try not to react and stay still, listening carefully.

"I think the only reason he was dating me was that I look like you..." She finishes, knocking out all the air from my lungs.

"Why-why are you telling this to me?" Out of a million things I could say, I chose this.

"Because..." She looks straight at my face, "No one looks at a person as you look at Tom unless they are madly in love with them."

"But then why did he date you?" I ask with a heavy heart.

"... Cause it's easy to be... straight?" She speaks, her lips pressing into a thin line. I think for a moment.

"B-but what about you---"

"It's all about you and him right now. And anyway, he loves you and not me. You don't want your sister to end up with a man who doesn't really love her, right?" She asks, hopefully.

I inhale and nod.

"And I won't want my brother to not end up with the man he really loves..."

***

For the first time, I don't feel guilty, rather I feel some burden lifting off my chest. I walk inside the room, remembering my conversation with Lily. Tom was fast asleep on the bed and that makes me smile. I take out a blanket and cover him with it, switching off the lights. As I was trying to move away, his hand grasps my wrist making goosebumps rise over my skin.

"Can't we even... not share the bed anymore?" He speaks, sounding tired.

Suddenly, I am again feeling guilty. I turn on my feet, his hand was still gripping my wrist when I get into the sheets beside him. I prevent looking at his face. I am too weak for that stuff, especially when he sounds already half-sober.

His hand slowly slips off me and I clench my eyes shut.

***

I am sure that I was lying on the bed unable to sleep for several hours now. It's raining outside, pouring heavier with each passing minute. But it's better than the silence because seriously when the raindrops weren't tapping against my windowpane, all I could hear was my jittering heartbeat, heavy breathing and the sound of Tom's own breathing.

I shift underneath me, turning on my side to finally look at Tom.

Now that he's sleeping, he won't catch me staring, right?

He was sleeping on his side with his arm tucked below his head, facing me. My fingers slowly slide across the skin of his face as I breathe in deeper and rest my palm over his cheek. My thumb softly strokes his smooth skin while my pinky was playing with his ear.

His eyes flutter open, lashes resembling butterfly wings. Those freaking pools of chocolate. Once again, I was frozen on the spot.

How fair it is that people can be naturally born with eyes as soft and as brown as those?

"Haz..." He whispers my name and I feel the knots in my stomach tying.

"Why did you run...?" His voice is quiet but sounds serious. He seriously demands an explanation. But I am just staring into his eyes, not speaking anything.

Because I did some outrageous friendship destroying shit and running away was my way of escape, albeit, it just made everything much worse...

"I am sorry," That's what I say, finally. He huffs at my words.

Then he shifts closer to me, my heart clenching tighter than ever, my armpits sweating disgustingly.

"That's not the question I asked..." He says, wriggling a hand out from under the covers and putting it over my face, stroking my skin and playing with my ear, just like I was doing a few moments ago.

I lick my dry lips, swallowing softly.

"Okay, wrong question..." He smiles lightly, "Why did you kiss me?"

His grin appears to tease me. I am already overwhelmed by the closeness when he's asking me such questions. I try to divert the question as I avert my gaze, suddenly unclear of how long an eye-contact should be maintained.

"I thought you would be mad at me... You blocked me and---"

And then Tom shoves his head forward, pressing his lips against mine. My mouth splits open at the contact, an embarrassing puff of air escaping.

Tom's other hand is quick to find my arm from below the sheets as he slips his fingers through mine, while his other hand is busy tracing a thumb across my jaw. It's weirdly soothing. The sound of the rain tapping against my window makes it even better.

My eyes are shut as he tilts his head, pressing his lips tighter, his tongue licking at my bottom lip. He squeezes my hand, making me gasp. He sees the perfect opportunity, sliding it inside my mouth while I am a whimpering mess. His breath smells and tastes of mint from the toothpaste, eliciting tingles in my abdomen.

I lurch forward, trying to kiss him back but he's swift to pull away, lips separating with a soft popping sound. My eyes flutter open at the loss of contact.

"Ask me why I kissed you?" He mumbles against my lips with a big, confident smirk.

Son of a...

How can I ever forget about the surge of confidence levels in him after there is some alcohol in his system?

"Ask..." He repeats, more forcefully this time making me look directly into his eyes.

I breathe in, "Why..."

He raises his eyebrows and I fight the urge to roll my eyes back.

"Why did you kiss me?"

He chuckles and softly pats my cheek, pulling away his hand from my face but the other one continues to hold my hand in his.

"... 'coz I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you."

"Did... Did you think of Lily?"

His face turns serious at the question, almost sad. He shakes his head.

"No..." He pauses, looking at me sternly. His Adam's apple bobbles in his throat, "When you are with me I forget about everything else."

A tear escapes his eye, sliding though the side of his eye and falling directly over the pillow. He clenches his eyes shut, squeezing my hand tighter.

Drunk Tom is also emotionally unstable...

"I am sorry Haz. I can't love her when I am already in love with you." His voice sounds so wrecked, so broken... I just pull him to my chest, pulling my hand out of his grip and wrapping it across his torso.

"I understand why you ran... And yet I kissed you again," He speaks in between his sobs.

I don't know why but his words made me smile. Maybe because he understands, yet he did it. It's so courageous. He's so brave. Like it's us against the world.

"Lily understands," I tell him. He stops sobbing abruptly, his body freezes as if he's unable to comprehend my words.

"Huh?" He asks in disbelief, pulling away from my chest and looking into my eyes.

"Yes. She does. She just told it to me." I smile wider, swiping the tears off his face while he blinks.

"Really?" He utters, voice creaky.

"Yes!"

He keeps staring at me like a frightened animal. He is still not believing me. It made me chuckle.

"Yes, div! Come 'on just believe me!" I insist.

His mouth parts, tongue poking out. He's silent for a minute as I notice the changing expressions on his face.

"She did not!" He exclaims.

"She did!"

"Oh god. Am I this obvious?" He laughs, probably assuming my conversation with Lily to be something funny. Not his fault though. I cut him some slack, considering all life he's been surrounded by three brothers in an easy relationship not the complicated and competitive one I share with Lily. Although with Charlotte it's all super smooth.

Still, the sound of his laughter feels good. I can't complain.

This time I pull him into a kiss interrupting his giggles. I am going to keep kissing him till his lips swell. But all we both are doing is smiling into the kiss, unable to hold the contact even for a few seconds.

But then again, now I have plenty of time to kiss him like that later. Right now, it's this moment that matters. It's Tom who matters.

No more holding back...

_______

Taz taglist: @hazmyheart​ // @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ // @tommysparker​ // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @calltothewild​​ // @viagracex​ // @httplayer​ // @slytherin-chaser​ // @perspectiveparker​ // @catkeeperthetall​ // @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid​ // @emmaloo21​ //

[puckyess]

I Hope Part 2 | Roman Ahcan & Brock Caufield

For the morning crowd: Get your tissues ready! I’m super happy with how this turned out. Let me know your favorite part. Listen to the Afterglow/Ghostin’ mashup for some extra sadness (linked on my blog). S/o to @penaltbox for getting this one going ❤️❤️

*Italics indicate flashbacks

*** FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED***

Words: 10.1k

Part 1 // Part 3

“I forgive you, Ro, I really do. It’s the forgetting that’s the hard part. I can forgive, but I can’t forget”

Your words hung heavy in the air and he accepted them graciously. You had just basically rejected Roman, the least you could do now was offer him a place to crash for the night. While his apology had brought you some nice closure, you weren’t ready to jump into a relationship with him and at this point, you weren’t even sure you wanted to anymore. He definitely still had a hold on you, but that’s what scared you. He had just piled a lot on you and you needed some time to digest it all. Doing that with him a room away was not ideal, but you didn’t have the heart to throw him out, especially at this hour.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? It’s late, well early now. I don’t want you out this time of night” you asked him. It felt odd to ask him to stay in a non romantic way after everything.

“On the couch?” He shyly questions.

You crack a smile at his shyness, a contrast to the overconfident Ro you were used to getting. “Yes, on the couch, Ro”.

He agrees after some prodding and that’s how you find yourself digging through the drawer that used to be his, but is now someone else’s, for clothes for him to wear for the night.

He watches you and can’t help but stare at the back of your shirt. “We play for each other” written in the signature Wisconsin font. Who’s was it? Were you dating someone on the team? How had he missed that? He’d admittedly gone through your social media a lot lately and hadn’t detected anything unusual, just the regular back and forth chirping, no flirty interactions, but now he was going to have to go analyze the boys’ comments. Would they do that to him though?

He’s broken from his thoughts when you stand up and say, “These are Brock’s but they should fit, you guys are like close to the same size”. His eyes zoom in on the red 29 on the leg of the sweatpants in your hands.

“Of fucking course” he thinks to himself. He should’ve known Brock would weasel his way in the first chance he got. He tried to not let his irritation leak into his voice as he thanked you for Brock’s clothes and you pretended to not notice the way the muscle in his jaw twitched when you said Brock’s name. It was just like old times.

—

You laid in bed that night, unable to fall asleep. Tonight had brought up so many feelings and memories. You thought long and hard about the boy sleeping on your couch. From the first time you encountered his fiery temper, to your roller coaster of a time together, to the night that everything went to hell and the mess he left behind.

Living across from a quarter of the men’s hockey team was a blessing and a curse. They were constantly yelling and tonight was no exception, this time accompanied with incessant pounding on a door. You shouldn’t be nosy you kept telling yourself, but a little peek through your peephole wouldn’t hurt anything right? If only you had known how much he would come to change your life.

You peered out just in time to see the boy laying another beating on the door and then putting his whole body into yelling, ”Fuck!”, dropping his head back in defeat when his efforts were met with silence.  He must be locked out. You take a deep breath and open your own door, propping yourself against the door frame. “I was going to invite you inside, but with a temper like that I don’t know that I should?” You tease him, sending a little smile his way to let him know you were only giving him a hard time.

That was the first time you had seen that smirk you love so much spread across his face. You would come to find out his name was Roman and he quickly became your person. Well, besides the other boy in your life who was your best friend.

The highs of your relationship with Roman were so high. You were borderline inseparable with each other. He did everything he was supposed to as a boyfriend, he was the type of guy that you’d proudly brag to your family about, the one your friends looked at and said “I wish”. He could be sweet and thoughtful, and had a spark to him that you adored, his temper the first time you met him, proof of that. He was that little rough around the edges kind of guy that every girl chased, a little mean to everyone but you. You were his soft spot and for a while, you couldn’t have written a better love story. In hindsight things were probably too perfect, you should’ve seen the storm that was brewing.

Between the friction between Brock and Roman and Roman’s wandering eyes, the lows could be pretty low. It was the same old fights every time, always starting and ending the same. Roman never acted on his insensitive behavior, but it still didn’t sit well with you. You tried not to play the jealous girlfriend part too often but sometimes it would just build and build until you snapped and then you both engaged in loud arguments, leaving a sinking feeling in your stomach, but Ro always managed to patch things up afterwards with flowers or warm baths that made you forget all about what had just transpired, at least until next time.  

Roman’s jealousy would shine at moments too. He’d call you out saying, “You baby Brock too much” and that “You shouldn’t worry about someone you’re not dating as much as you do. He can handle himself, he’s a big boy” anytime you’d defend Brock, and then under his breath he’d mumble “He’s too soft already” and that drove you crazy. You’d frown at your boyfriend's lack of empathy and ill feelings toward one of the most important people in your life. You had heard some of the stories the boys would tell you and you knew he called Brock soft to his face and you hated it. You loved his temper, but not when it was directed toward your best friend. You had no idea why the boys hated each other so much. Part of the reason you were always so nice to Brock was to make up for your boyfriend's behavior, though if only you knew the half of what Roman said to Brock. You’d called Roman out on it multiple times and instead of apologizing, he’d say, “It’s not like it’s not true. You know it, I know it, and he knows it”. You of course can’t just sit around and leave B out to dry when he wasn’t even around to defend himself so cue another fight. The cycle was endless.

You had half expected Brock to come over and check in on you the night that Owen sent you that picture and your world had caved in on itself, but he had only sent you a simple text that said “I love you. You’ll get through this, I’ll help you”. And then he was at your door the next morning with coffee and a shoulder to cry on, ready to let you grieve and then when you were ready, to pick up all the pieces.

You finally fell asleep that night, not thinking about the boy who had torn you apart but instead about the one who had helped you to grow and become who you were today.

Roman laid on your couch, his mind going a mile a minute. You having a drawer full of Brock’s clothes answered his earlier question about the T-shirt. He hadn’t asked about it though, not wanting to start a fight. You always had a soft spot for the kid. It was one of the very few sore spots of your relationship.

How could he not hate Brock’s guts though? The kid had a huge stinking crush on you and you had no clue, you just continued to show him affection and give him your attention. He thought about all the times you’d go running to Brock after you two had gotten in an argument and he did know about all of them because Brock would waste no time in posting to his Snapchat. But never in a way where it could get turned on him for rubbing it in Roman’s face, it was always just enough so that Roman would know he was with his girl but if Ro dared to bring it up to you you’d take Brock’s side no matter what. You stuck up for Roman in every other situation and would fight a whole hockey team for him, but not when it came to Brock. He wasn’t blind, he knew that Brock could steal you without even trying, though he did credit the kid with trying.

He thought about all the times he had dangled the carrot over your head, practically telling you about Brock’s feelings for you and how you’d watch as Brock’s cheeks reddened and defend Brock and tell Roman to knock it off. He thought about the time that Brock had caused yet another fight by telling you about some locker room talk. That was the first time you had threatened to break up with him and damn it if that didn’t fuel his hatred for his teammate.

Roman sat in his stall, trying to get dressed for practice, but was unable to because all he could hear was Brock’s voice. Normally he could just block it out, but today he was talking to Alex about you and well, he just couldn’t have that. He was downright gushing as he happily told him about grabbing dinner with you at the Union the other night. He rolled his eyes as he bent down to tie his skates. It was time to remind Brock who you belonged to, who had won and who had lost. He begins to tell Tarek and Josh all about the activities that had taken place after your little dinner with Brock. He bragged maybe a little too loud about things you’d hate knowing he talks about in front of the boys, just to make sure Brock heard. Normally, Brock would sit back and take it. He knew that Roman messed with him to get a reaction out of him. But today he was degrading you in front of everyone and he wouldn’t allow that, so he speaks up on your behalf.

“No one wants to hear how quick you are in bed, Ahcan. She probably doesn’t appreciate it either”.

Roman’s face twisted into a smirk knowing he was about to hit him where it hurts. “Shut up, Caufield. We all know you wish you could please her like I do. 30 minutes or 30 seconds, it’s still more than you’ll ever get with her”.

The locker room falls silent and Brock bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. The amount of disrespect Roman had just shown you made him sick. It takes all of his self control to not tackle Roman in the middle of the locker room. Luckily, his brother keeps him busy as he goes to lunge at Roman, himself. Brock has to throw an arm across his brother and shove him back to his stall. “Don’t”, he says, shooting him a dangerous look. “He’s not worth it. I’ll take care of it”. Cole’s fuming, as he aggressively grabs his stick that’s fallen to the floor in the hustle of things. “You better”, he says as he storms out of the locker room, shoulder checking Roman along the way.

He’d kept his mouth closed about all of Roman’s other taunting and bullshit, but this was unacceptable. He couldn’t let this slide. You deserved to know that your personal business was being spread out for all to hear in the locker room. So he grabbed his phone and sent you a quick text. “Your boy keeps running his mouth about all your bedroom activities in the locker room. Figured you should know.”

When you read the text your heart dropped. It was basically one of your worst nightmares. All of your business and most vulnerable moments on display for a bunch of guys who could pick you apart and look at you differently. You had trusted Roman enough to give yourself to him and this is how he respected you? You felt so many things, but betrayed and angry were at the top of the list. You were ready to lay into his ass when he got back from practice.

You let Roman have it the second he walked through the door. He brushes your feelings aside, as he’s more concerned with who told you.

“I knew that little shit would go running to you”

“It doesn’t matter who told me, but I’m glad they did! There’s two people in this relationship, not a whole locker room”

“Exactly, Y/N, there’s two people in a relationship, the key word being two, not three. Tell Brock to fuck off”

“God, that’s not even the point, Roman. It’s like I speak and you just don’t even listen!”

“How am I not listening? You just said there’s two people in the relationship and I agree with you, but Brock thinks he’s one of those two people and so yeah, maybe I had to remind him who gets to please you in bed and that’s not him”

“If you ever. Fuck and tell again, I swear to God Roman, you’ll be single. I’ll dump your ass so quick. No more kill stories in the locker room.”

While he knew your threat was probably hollow because of the darkness that had taken over your eyes ever since he mentioned pleasing you in bed, part of him should’ve known to never doubt you.

Brock had won that round, you had put Roman in his place rather than him putting Brock in his. He couldn’t stand the fact that you spent so much time with someone who he knew for a fact wanted you as much as he did, especially someone who was the polar opposite of Roman, himself. What if you woke up one day and wanted the sweet guy? Roman knew he wasn’t sweet. The gentle, always doing the right things guy? He tried to show that side of himself to you, but he was generally hard headed, feisty, and anything but just plain old nice. Brock already seemed to fill so many places in your life, he couldn’t let him take over the boyfriend role too. So he made sure Brock knew his place and he had been chastised by you more times than once for it. And apparently it hadn’t worked because it looks like he took his place anyway.

It made him question the night everything went down. Was Brock the one who had sent the picture? He doesn’t remember seeing him there, though he doesn’t remember a whole lot from that night besides the fight. Your look of hurt had stayed with him but he had someone else to go to during that time so he had put the little detail of how you had managed to get the picture in the first place to the back of his mind. Laying here on your couch now, it would make perfect sense for it to have been Brock. He had always had a nagging suspicion but never talked to you about that night.

—

The bye week couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. The boys had hit a rough patch, having lost three weekends in a row now and the tensions in the locker room were high. The combination of losing and Brock’s history with Roman made for a stressful past month.

Brock breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t spot Roman anywhere in the bar. Some of the guys had decided to blow off some steam and reset for the upcoming weekend by going out tonight. He scanned the room once more making sure he didn’t see you, but since Roman wasn’t here he didn’t assume you would be either. Ever since you had started dating him, you barely went anywhere without each other much to his dismay. Yes, he had feelings for you but that didn’t change the fact that you were also his best friend. He missed you in more ways than one.

“Dude, she already said she wasn’t coming out tonight”, Ty said, nudging his teammate.

Brock replies instantly, “I don’t know who you’re talking about”. But he knows he’s been caught looking for you again. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Ty had known who he was looking for without asking.

Owen shows up then with an arm full of beers and a handful of shots. Brock throws back a shot with barely a grimace. It was going to be one hell of a night.

Flash forward a few rounds and the boys are rolling. It had been a fun, easygoing night, exactly what everyone needed. That is until Brock turns his head and spots a certain someone a few tables over. His eyes narrow and he has to do a double take.

His jaw clenches and his hand that wasn’t holding his drink, balls up. He swears he sees red as he looks on at the scene playing out three tables over. He reaches over and grabs Owen’s arm so hard Owen says ow and swats his hand away.

“Please. Tell me that isn’t my Y/N’s Roman making out with that girl?” He says through gritted teeth. He can’t take his eyes away.

“There’s no way..” Owen trails off in disbelief. That was most definitely a girl straddling Roman, her tongue down his throat and that girl was no where close to being you.

The rest of the guys look over then at what has their teammates so dumbfounded and the same silence spreads across the group amidst all the noise of the bar. With ten pairs of eyes burning holes into their faces, the pair continues to make out in the corner, as if you weren’t at home waiting for your boyfriend to return to you.

Brock is livid. He slams his glass down so hard the liquid splashes out and he’s ready to rip Roman to shreds. How could he do that to you? Sure, he had always had an issue with Roman, how could he not? Roman had the girl he had been crushing on since the first day he met her and Roman had no problem rubbing that in his face any chance he got. But he did make you happy (most of the time) and that’s what mattered to Brock. This though? Throwing all of that away, your trust, happiness? It made Brock want to cave Roman’s face in. Nostrils flaring, he’s up and out of his seat.

Owen is quick to grab B’s arm and frantically looks to the other guys for help. Owen’s taller frame was no match for Brock’s 5’9  one when he was fired up and boy, was he fired up. Cole was in front of him then and shoving his older brother back in his seat.

“You can’t go fighting him right now. Not now, not here in the middle of a bar” Cole says, trying to talk some sense into his furious brother.

Brock was seething. “Who does he think he is? This is going to kill Y/N, I’m going to fucking kill him!”

O backs Cole up, “Your brother’s right, man. We all love Y/N, but you and I both know how she is when it comes to Roman. She won’t like that you threw the first punch”.

Brock’s shaking his head at that, he knows they’re right. You always gave Roman the benefit of the doubt and it really grinded Brock’s gears when you made exceptions for Roman. He took you for granted and didn’t appreciate you the way Brock knew he could.

“She probably wouldn’t believe me, just say I’ve always had it out for him. She’s not wrong but I can’t be the one to tell her about this”.

The boys all agree on this and finally Owen says, “Why don’t I just send her a picture? She can’t deny it if it’s right there in front of her, right?”

Brock finally agrees with a small nod. He hates that he can’t just knock Roman out right there. And he hates even more what this picture is going to do to you. He wishes you would’ve just picked him and you never would’ve had to deal with this pain. But you hadn’t, you had chosen the more exciting boy, with his flaring temper and charming smirk. You chose to pass over the cute, boy next door who was everything you needed but nothing you wanted.

—

You should have known that word would get out somehow that Roman had stopped by. The boys hockey team was worse than old women at tea time when it came to gossip.

You barely had time to register the neatly folded blanket and clothes on your couch before your door was swung open and a very pissed off and hurt looking Brock is storming through it, coffee in hand.

“Well good morning to you too. What’re you doing here so early?” You said in the middle of a yawn.

He shoots you an irritated look. “Early? It’s past noon, Y/N. Or is your long night with Roman screwing with your head again? I can’t believe he had the audactiy to show up here after everything.” The venom in the way he says Roman’s name has you rolling your eyes. Roman had been..civil about Brock last night. Though you noticed the way he tensed about the clothes, he hadn’t said anything. Brock was your rock, your level headed one and yet he was the one speaking out today.

“You do realize this is my apartment you’re standing in right? And my business? And my life?” You’re annoyed that he wants to have this argument again and right after you woke up. He was not catching you at a good time.

Brock had a hard time hearing it wasn’t his life. It was like his hands were pinned behind his back. Roman being back in your life very much affected his own because that would mean he’d lose you again and you were very much a big part of his life.

“Roman staying the night has nothing to do with you” you tell him, plopping yourself on the couch. You catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across Brock’s face, along with something else you couldn’t quite place as you reach for your coffee.

Brock felt like he had just been slapped in the face. He had always been there for you, that night and every night there after. He had finally gotten his best friend back and at times it felt like he could have more than that and now you were just brushing him off like his opinion meant nothing. It absolutely killed him that you couldn’t see how much this had to do with him. He was there for you, he’d always been there for you and yet he couldn’t be there for you in the way that he wanted to because you wouldn’t let him.

He wanted to shake you. “That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N. This has every bit to do with me. I was there when he broke you and I helped you pick up the pieces. I let you cry on my shoulder, sleep in my bed. Not just that night but so many times before that. Or do you not remember why ice cream is our thing now? Or all of the walks home we’ve had? And all of the games of pong we’ve played? I’ve put up with so much shit from him for you and I’m sick of seeing you get hurt over and over by the same guy when you deserve so much better than that”.

You weren’t insecure by any means, but everyone had their days and today just so happened to be yours. You had a long day at work and didn’t really want to go out to dinner with the guys, but you had already promised Roman and Brock that you’d be there.

You trailed behind Roman as he led you to the table. Brock immediately noticed that your smile was off as you leaned in to give him a quick hug, not wanting to set off your boyfriend. He gave you an extra squeeze and then released you. He noticed the little frown on your face when the waitress shamelessly flirted with Roman in front of you and Roman made no effort to stop her, even giving into her banter and eyelashes. Wanting to see you smile again, he gave you a little nudge and asked if you were getting the kids’ meal, poking fun at the fact that your ordered chicken fingers everywhere you went. You cracked a smile and playfully punched his arm and then got serious again to tell him that yes, you were in fact going to devour some chicken’s fingers, which he chuckled at. 

However when it got around to being your turn to order, Roman spoke up for you. “She’ll just have a salad.” He says to the waitress and she shoots you a look that says she agrees with that being an appropriate selection for you. “Aren’t you trying to start that diet? That’s what you said when you were jumping into your jeans before we got here. Now’s a good time to start” he asks you rather loudly. Your face heats up, embarrassed, but you mumble a “yeah, I guess” and close your menu, handing it to the girl and then looking down at your hands in your lap. Brock is absolutely speechless and the rest of the table is equally uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to deck Roman, he wanted to wrap you up in his arms and tell you how perfect you were even more.

When you snap Brock later that night, you’re by yourself and your face is still in a frown. He knows he has to do something about it, so he asks if you want to go get ice cream with him. You snap back that you really shouldn’t and you’re biting your lip and it makes Brock throw his head back with a groan. Why did the universe hate him so much? He leaves you on open, but grabs his keys and ends up showing up at your door.

“B, what’re you doing here?” you question. Your hair is thrown up in a messy bun and you’re in a pair of sweats and a baggy Badgers hockey tshirt. You look so beautiful and natural, he has to really concentrate to remember what exactly he’s supposed to be doing.

“You said you wanted ice cream?” he said with a smile, as if it were obvious.

You smiled back. “I believe I said that I shouldn’t get ice cream”.

He wouldn’t be taking no for an answer tonight. “No, I think you said you should get ice cream. Go get your shoes or don’t, but we’re still going”.

You shake your head at your best friend, but take the couple steps backward to retrieve your shoes and coat and lock your door as you head off to ruin the diet you hadn’t started.

A short drive later, you find yourself standing at Dairy Queen’s counter debating over a cookie dough or oreo blizzard. “I’ll have a small cookie dough blizzard, please”, you finally decide.

Brock also orders and the cashier asks, “Are you guys together?”

“Yeah, we’re together” he answers and then looking over at you his eyes widen in alarm. “I mean no, we’re not together, well we’re together but not together together”, he stutters over his words.

You’re looking at him like he’s lost his mind, but you’re also laughing, “B, chill. She meant our orders.” and then looking at the annoyed cashier, “yes, to clarify, our orders are together”. Brock mumbles an apology, handing over some bills.

“Well that was fun”, Brock huffs as he brings over your tray. When he sets down a chicken tender basket in front of you, your heart swells.

“What’s this?”

He just shrugs. “Figured you might want your kids’ meal. That salad didn’t look very filling”.

You swear you could cry on the spot at how thoughtful he was. “You noticed that too huh?”

“I notice everything, Y/N”, he says, taking another bite of his blizzard.

“So how is this fair? My boyfriend is an ass to you and me both, yet you’re the one buying me ice cream. Shouldn’t I be buying this for you?”

“How is he an ass to me?” Brock asks you. You’re not wrong, but he’s surprised you’ve noticed.

You give him a sheepish look. “A couple of the boys told me about what Roman said at the bar after last week’s game.”

-

Brock knew what you were referring to even though you were being very vague with your words.

 They had gotten shut out and everyone all around had just had an off night. They had gone to the bar to blow off some steam but Roman was still heated, he took a while to calm down. You were off playing pool with Brock and it irritated Roman to no end as he watched you laugh easily with the wannabe lover. Soon your game finished though and you headed to the restroom before rejoining your boyfriend and the group and Roman took advantage of his opportunity. He was jealous and angry and just feeling a little mean so he took a swing at Brock.

“Hey, Caufield, maybe you should spend less time at the pool table and more time on the ice. We would’ve won tonight if you would’ve hit any of the shots you took. You were like 0 for 20.”

Brock looked at him wondering where this was all coming from right now. “Yeah, it wasn’t my best night”, he admitted.

Roman snorts. “Even your best night wouldn’t be good enough. You should stop trying to be your brother, you’ll never be as good as him. The only reason you’re even on the team is because they wanted Cole here, so they tried to sweeten the deal by letting you play” he says pointing at Cole with his beer and then taking a swig.

The comment brings an onslaught of “Hey, hey, hey”, “I think you’ve had enough”, “That was unnecessary” and “You better fucking take that back” from all the guys at the table. Everyone knew Roman could be a real dick when he wanted to be, but that comment was taking it too far. Just then you returned to the table, seeing everyone’s faces you asked “Whoa, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing. As fun as this has been, I think I’m gonna head home” he said looking at Roman. You pouted, but you didn’t question it as you hugged him goodbye and told him to text you when he got home so you knew he was safe.

-

“By a couple of the guys, I'm sure you’re referring to my brother?” he chuckles.

“I didn’t say that”, you tell him, but the small smile you’re wearing tells all.

“Yeah, he was pretty fired up over that”, Brock says.

“As he should’ve been! Why didn’t you say anything that night? I was fucking pissed when I found out. That was completely uncalled for. I let him have it when I found out. We’ve barely spoken all week because I’m still mad at him. Probably why he was such a dick tonight” you say, ripping off another piece of a chicken tender.

Brock just shrugs. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything that night. It’s not like it’s not true, nothing I haven’t heard before. I know I’ll never be as good as Cole.”

You frown at the boy sitting across from you and take his hand in yours. “You know none of what Roman said is true, right? Not one word. You’re playing hockey for a D1 school and not just any school, the college hockey capital, Brock. You have so much talent and skill, I promise you’re on the team because they need a reliable, dependable, versatile player like you. You’re such a valuable part of the team, B.”

He would probably cry if you weren’t in the middle of Dairy Queen. You said the words with such conviction and love that he believed every one. To think that you saw all of that in him meant the absolute world to him.

“Thank you, Y/N. I can’t tell you how much that means to me”, he tells you honestly.

You beam at him. “Of course, B.”

He smiles back at you. “And to answer your question, no offense, but I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to buy me ice cream when Roman screws up again. It can be like our thing”.

---

You were at your breaking point as you pulled up Brock’s contact. There was a good chance he was already sleeping and wouldn’t answer, but you had no other options so you pressed call. He answered on the first ring.

“B, I really need you. Can you come get me please?”

Brock shot up in bed at the sound of your shaky voice. “Y/N? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I- yeah, I’m fine. I’m just stranded. Roman and I got into this huge fight and he left and won’t answer my calls or texts. I’m sorry to bother you, I know you left hours ago, but Roman has my credit card and cash so I can’t even get an Uber… I could walk, but it’s kind of far”

“No” he just about yells into the phone. “Don’t you dare leave wherever you are by yourself. I’m coming. I���m leaving right now, just send me your location and stay on the phone with me so I know you’re ok, okay?”.

You do and he curses to himself. He couldn’t believe Roman left you stranded and drunk at a party in the middle of Madison. That was low, even for Roman.

“B, why do you sound so out of breath? Are you running?” you ask. You can hear his breathing through the phone and it sounds slightly labored.

“Are you calling me out of shape?” he jokes, “Yeah, I had a few beers tonight so I don’t want to take the chance of driving. We can walk home together. But I want to get to you as soon as I can so I’m jogging. I’m about a block away now, should see you in five or so minutes”.

You blink away your surprise, your hand clutching at your heart. You look up to the sky and thank whoever it was above for blessing you with Brock.

“How did I get so lucky to have a best friend like you?”

You don’t see him trip as you say “best friend”. It must’ve been a crack in the sidewalk, just like the one in his heart.

--

You knew going in that dating a basically famous college hockey player wasn’t going to be easy. You knew what you signed up for. Admittedly, most of the time Roman would make you forget about the outside world. He acted like any other boyfriend, spoiling you with love and affection. But there were times that the ugly side of what he does came to bite you and unfortunately he was the one to bring it up.

It was a Saturday night and the boys were having a party to celebrate the weekend’s sweep. Your night had been great until you had heard Roman’s comments. You were standing with a small group of girls gossiping about the one girl’s interest in Mike when you heard your boyfriend’s voice brag about the “hundreds of girls flooding his Dm’s after that game against Ohio State”.

“No way you have hundreds, there was barely anyone there at those games last weekend”. Tarek pointed out, trying to call his bluff.

“Okay, maybe not hundreds, but there’s a ton. I could literally have any girl I wanted. And they’re all like, really hot too.” He glanced to his left and saw you standing there, but you were turned, not paying him any attention so he continued, “Check out the rack on this one, pretty face to match too”.

Your heart sunk as you listened to the boys talk, one boy in particular really. You turned around just to make sure it was your boyfriend even though you’d know his voice anywhere. He was standing with a group of the guys, his profile to you, but he was only a handful of steps away. Close enough for you to see him holding out his phone to prove to Tarek that he had a bunch of Dm’s. You watched on as his thumb scrolled down the list until he found the girl he wanted to show off. You suddenly didn’t feel like being at the party anymore.

Brock was standing with Lex, Cole, Ryder, and Dylan when he first heard bits of the conversation going on in the group next to him. His temper flared as he realized it was Roman who was doing the bragging. If Roman even glanced to his left in the slightest, he would’ve seen you standing there, well within earshot. And then he watched as Roman did just that, looked right at you and still continued to show off. Brock too looked over at you, hoping by some miracle that you weren't hearing what was going on. But when his eyes fell on you, you were already staring at Roman and there was a pained expression on your features. His heart broke for you and he wished for the millionth time that he could show you what love really is. But he couldn’t so he settled for at least getting you out of that situation. He didn’t even bother saying anything to the boys as he removed himself from the group and walked over to you, placing himself right in between you and Roman.

“Can I steal you for a few? I could really use a kick ass pong partner” he asked, smirking at you. He knew you loved pong, it was one of the few drinking games you were actually good at.

You took one last look over the shoulder of Brock and saw your boyfriend pulling up yet another girl’s profile so you gave Brock a weak smile and followed him across the room to the pong table, far away from Roman.

It only took a few throws for your arms to be held over your head and your chirping to take over. You and Brock pretty much dominated, to the point that it would’ve been boring had you guys not been keeping each other entertained.

With one cup left, Brock looked at you, a confident smirk on his lips. “Are you ready for this trick shot, Y/N? I’ve been practicing.”

You grinned and nodded eagerly. “Show me what you’ve got, Caufield.”

Instead of overhand tossing the pong ball, he flicks his wrist underhand so that the ball bounces off the ceiling and arcs directly into the remaining cup.

His arms raise wide above his head and he backs up in a subtle celly. The smile on his face can only be described as cocky.

Your jaw is still on the floor, but you're screeching and launching yourself into his arms. He easily catches you, lifting you off of your feet and spinning you around.

The room is loud, still reacting to Brock’s trick shot, but you don’t hear any of it as he holds you close, still having not put you back on your feet. The smile on your face is bright when you tell him, “I can’t believe you just did that! I hope you know you just sealed your fate as my pong partner for life”.

---

“While I appreciate you doing all of that, and I really do, I couldn't have done it without you, I didn’t ask you to do any of that. Never did I ask you to come save me” you snapped at him, trying to defend yourself. And it was true, you had never once asked for Brock to come save you, he just did.

Hands running through his hair, tugging hard, that’s when Brock explodes. You were practically proving his point. “That’s the thing, Y/N, is you shouldn’t have to ask! It should just be normal for someone who cares about you to not hurt you over and over and to be there for you and help you get better when you’re hurting, not just turn their back on you with some other girl and then just show back up in your life when they decide they want you back. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He’s looking at you desperately, you were putting him in jail for something he didn’t even do.

You know he’s right. You know it with every bone in your body. Roman had done things that were far from loving and had conditioned you to think that that’s what love looked like. You had made exceptions for his behavior and built a tolerance for his actions. And that’s not how it was supposed to be. But you had also loved him and part of you still did and that was hard to just turn off and forget, you would know because you had tried.

“Brock, I loved him. You know that. What was I supposed to do? Things weren’t perfect, but I couldn’t just throw away what we had and pretend that I didn’t feel anything for him. I accepted him and his flaws because that's what love is.”

He hears every word of what you’re saying because he feels it too. He was living a parallel life, but with you. As much as he’s tried and wishes he could, he can’t just turn off his feelings for you and pretend they weren’t there. He accepted your flaws even if giving too much of yourself to others who didn’t deserve you was one of them. He wants to tell you that he could have shown you what loving hard instead of hard love is but he knows the time isn’t right for that confession yet. There’s still a lot left to be said.

“Well he threw it away for you and now you’re what? Just going to let him walk right back in again? You’re going to let him back in like usual? It’s not hard to see why he doesn’t take you seriously, if you don’t even take yourself seriously. You need to at least respect yourself, since he never does. You’re better than that, Y/N. We worked so hard-“ he corrects himself, “you worked so hard to be strong and build yourself back up...I’m just afraid he’ll break you again”.

His concern was well placed but the fact that he just assumes that you’d let Roman walk back in, even though you almost did and that he thought you’d break so easily was disappointing. “Well what am I supposed to do Brock? I’m not some D1 big time hockey player like you, I don’t just have this line waiting at my door to take me out like you guys do”

Brock’s voice catches in his throat as he almost lets out the secret he’s been keeping bottled up from you. But he panics and instead tells you, “you need to figure this out, Y/N because I can’t stand by and watch that happen again. And if you do decide that he’s the one you want and you’re willing to let him into your life again, I can’t promise to be there to put back the pieces this time.”

His statement makes your eyebrows shoot up.You don’t know that you’d still be here had Brock not been there for you, and as he pointed out not just this past time but so many times before. You can’t imagine having to go through another heartbreak, much less without having Brock at your side. Your heart’s racing at the thought of losing him. His statement surprises you and hits you like a ton of bricks. Why’d you have to break what you love so much?

“You’d leave me?” You quietly ask him, tears threatening to spill.

He sighs, shaking his head. Why was this so hard? “I’d never leave you,” he says swallowing hard, “but I can’t hurt like that again”.

The look on his face shatters your heart and you know you’re the one to blame.

You don’t miss that he’s talking about himself and you hate that you’ve caused him so much hurt over the years. You’d put him through more than one ever should and you’re hating yourself because this is the first time he’s admitting to you that it hurts him. Hurts him to see you with someone else, hurts him to always be the one to pick up the pieces, and hurts him that you might pick that someone over him again. You knew his feelings for you, you had for a while now. Cole had pulled you aside and told you as much and as if that wasn’t confirmation enough, you had accidentally overheard Brock say it himself, just not to you.

Brock had invited you over for a movie night, something you had done regularly with him in the months before you had started dating Roman. But ever since you started seeing Ro they had become less and less frequent until it got to the point where they ceased to exist all together. So he had finally reserved you for the night and had a whole night planned for you two to catch up. Or so he thought.

He was rushing around his dorm, trying to find his wallet and keys to go pick you up. He needed to hurry so that you guys weren’t late for your reservation. A new steak place had opened up downtown and though it was a little more fancy than your usual pizza dates, he knew you had been wanting to try it so he made the reservation.

“B if you’re five minutes late they’re not going to give your table away” Cole tells his brother, sensing his nerves.

“Yeah but if I’m five minutes late picking Y/N up, then we’re going to be 15 minutes late to the restaurant and then the table will be gone” he replies.

Cole shakes his head at how well Brock knows you. The boy had it bad. “Yeahhh you’re right. You better get a move on then.”

Brock huffs in response as he trips putting his other shoe on.

“Oh and good luck on your date” Cole calls as Brock heads out the door, lightly teasing him. Brock smiles but flips his little brother off as he shuts the door.

Not 20 minutes later, a very disappointed and frustrated Brock is slinking his way back through the door. Cole pauses the game he had been watching on the tv and turns toward Brock as he throws himself on the couch.

“She cancelled.” Brock mumbles into the cushion.

“What?!” Cole questions. He shouldn’t be surprised, he could probably guess as to the reason you cancelled but he couldn’t believe you’d do that to Brock and so last minute.

“S’fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” He said, face still pressed into the couch.

“It’s not fine, Brock! I get that you’re like in love with her but she doesn’t just get a pass. That was really shitty. Did she say why she cancelled?”  He was fired up now, as Brock should’ve been but he would let you get away with murder.

He sighed as he pushed himself to a seated position and shrugged. “Said Roman had some kind of thing planned that he just told her about and she meant to text me about it but forgot. She felt bad”.

And just like that you were let off the hook, Cole could tell by the simple way he justified your actions by saying you felt bad. It didn’t erase the hurt that was in his face even if he tried to make his voice sound casual or the droop in his shoulders. It seems to be a more and more common thing lately and he doesn’t like it.

Turning the tv off he stands up. “Well let’s not let that dinner reservation go to waste. Steak sounds pretty good and you’re buying! ” he says and kicks Brock’s shoe to get him off the couch and back out the door.

As it turns out, Cole was right and they won’t give the table away if you're five minutes late. The steak was actually worth the reservation and it was nice to spend some one on one time with his brother. He knew nights like that wouldn’t last much longer. Brock seemed to be in less of a slump but Cole continued his care taking, telling Abby he’d call her tomorrow and catch her up on the Brock/Y/N saga to watch movies with his brother.

His phone rings in the middle of Grown Ups and Cole doesn’t even have to guess to know who it is. “You should just leave her hanging after she ditched you tonight” he says.

Brock shoots him a look and picks up on the second ring. “Y/N? Is everything ok?”

With the movie paused, Cole can hear the whole conversation, though he could’ve told Brock without having heard. It was the same old story. Roman promised one thing and then did another, leaving you upset and Brock comforting you. Of course he invited you over and offered to come and get you, already putting his shoes back on before even hanging up the phone.

“You deserve better than second best, Brock” he honestly tells his brother.

Brock looks at him then with a look of defeat and acceptance. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A short time later he returns with you in tow. You look sad, just as Brock had hours earlier when he walked through that same door, but without you. You give a tight lipped smile to Cole and then you’re following Brock to his bedroom where you’ll spend the night telling Brock about your boyfriend while wrapped in Brock’s arms and in Brock’s bed.

It breaks his heart that you’re crying again over him..Brock would never make you cry until your wedding day when he shed tears of his own and you wouldn’t be able to hold yours in because you always cry when other people do.

The next morning is when Cole decides to give you a reality check. You emerge from Brock’s bedroom in his T-shirt and Cole just raises an eyebrow at you. From an outsider’s point of view, you knew what it looked like. But it was Cole and this was unfortunately a rather regular occurrence. Nothing had happened, nothing would happen. “What?” You ask him as you reach into the cabinet and grab a mug. Their home was basically yours too, you spent so much time there.

“We’re gonna go grab something to eat before he drops me off, do you want to come with us?” You ask. Your offer however, is met with silence even though Cole is staring right at you.

“Dude what’s your problem today? Are you not speaking to me or what?” You question, growing irritated.

Cole thought the world of you, honestly. You had become a close friend but his brother was his favorite person and you were messing with his happiness so it was about time you were put in check.

“You know, one day he won’t be waiting around for you anymore. He’ll have his own girlfriend again and he won’t be able to play part time boyfriend when yours decides to be an asshole”.

He doesn’t specify who “he” is but you know he’s talking about Brock. And he doesn’t come out and say that Brock has feelings for you but “waiting around” sure makes it seem like maybe he does. You want him to just say it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you say, looking down at the mug in your hands. Brock’s favorite you think to yourself.

Cole gives you a look and holds his hand out in front of him, gesturing up and down your body. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t give me that. Look at yourself right now. Where are you right now? Where do you spend your time, enough to know where the mugs are? Whose clothes are you wearing? Whose bed did you sleep in? Who was beside you? Who -“

“Okay, okay. Jeez, I get your point” you say, wincing, wanting to stop him there.

“Do you though? Because you let him get all the way to your place before you cancelled on him last night. You didn’t see the look that was on his face when he came back home. He’d been looking forward to this all week, Y/N. He’s been planning this all week. He never gets to see you anymore” Cole continues.

You grimace, knowing you did him dirty. “All week? I felt so bad -“

Cole cuts you off, not wanting to hear the excuse he’s heard a hundred times before “but Roman” is how it always starts.

“Yes. All week. He even made a reservation for you guys at that new steak place you’ve been wanting to go to. Hell the kid spent a half hour going through his closet and making me choose between shirts” he tells you.

Your heart sinks when you hear about all of his wasted efforts and the thought he had put into wanting to have a night with you.

“And you obviously didn’t feel too bad because you still called him when Roman bailed. You always call him, Y/N. Maybe you should think about the fact that he’s always the one you turn to when you need something, maybe he should just be the one. You can’t keep going back and forth between your two boyfriends though, it’s hurting Brock too much and I won’t let that happen anymore. He’s dealing with enough shit right now, he doesn’t need you hurting him too”.

His words sit heavy in your mind and never leave you. You can’t say how much of an impact they’ve had on your affection toward him since then but it definitely plays a part, maybe one larger than you realized.

—

Brock and Roman had been going at each other all day. Brock had started hanging around less and less so you were excited to be able to spend the whole evening together. The boys were having game night and then hitting the bar. Starting with the pregame Roman had been a pain. He was complaining about the whole night and how he didn’t want to share you. This meant he was extra clingy and barely let you out of sight. You really had wanted to see Brock, but he was in the apartment across the hall, the team having to split into two apartments since everyone was coming out tonight.

You pryed yourself from Roman and wandered to the next room, an easy smile spreading across your face as you found who you were looking for. You were instantly wrapped in a warm hug and he kept an arm over your shoulders as he talked close to your ear, trying to be heard over the shouting of the boys. “I saw you earlier and wanted to come say hi but didn’t want your boyfriend to get mad” he tried to play it off as joking but you could hear the slight bite to his words. He didn’t get to say much else as Roman came in and spotted your two heads bent together in the middle of the room. He made a not so light hearted comment about Brock stealing his girl and then all but dragged you back to the other room claiming you guys were up next for pong even though you still had to wait 15 minutes for the game to be finished. 

And that’s how the night went with the two boys exchanging jabs and glares. Roman’s temper is short with you and even shorter for Brock. He’s been making stupid comments to you that he knows get on your nerves like “damn those jeans make your ass look good. Brock doesn’t her ass look good?” And “your shirt’s so low cut every guy in this bar has been staring at your tits, just ask Caufield.” and each time Brock also sends a look your way, one you read as pity and you become frustrated. There was a difference between him complimenting you and him making you feel like a piece of meat and tonight he was doing the latter. He was also dragging Brock into it which he knew you hated and so you became increasingly angry, more with yourself and Roman but after about the tenth time Brock looks over at you you take it out on him and just snap. “I don’t need the looks, ok Brock? I can take care of myself, you looking at me every time he opens his mouth isn’t making anything better”. You can’t quite read the look on his face before he just nods and says he’s going to head out for the night. You groan and guilt and more frustration flood your system. You know you have to go after him because it’s Brock after all. So after corralling a stupidly drunk Roman into his bed you head over to Brock’s to apologize.

The first thing you hear when you go to knock on his door is yelling. You don’t expect to hear anything given the time of night but with the quiet halls you can hear every word he’s shouting. “I just don’t get why she lets him treat her like that! She’s so strong and independent and then she just sits there while he spouts off his mouth the whole night. And she’s so beautiful like how can he even say the things he said tonight.”

He’s obviously talking about you, that much you can tell. You can’t hear what the other person is saying but you do hear what Brock is saying next. “ I just need her to give me one shot. That’s all I’m asking for is one shot to show her how much better I can be for her. Be to her. If I could just show her how much I love her and appreciate her the way she deserves… god why am I not good enough? I do everything I can for her, hell I’d do more if she let me. Do I have to act like an ass to get her attention? Because I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing I haven’t done yet”

You feel extremely guilty standing there in front of his door listening to something he doesn’t know you’re hearing, him pouring his heart out. But you’re frozen in place with his confession. You eventually get your act together and do what you went there to do in the first place, the whole time with your heart beating in your ears.

—

You had never let on that you knew how he felt. You had honestly thought that maybe his feelings for you would lessen until they disappeared since you had at the time still been very much in love with Roman. You hate to say it but you were often times wrapped up in your own drama that you pushed his feelings to the back of your mind but they were always there. With everything that he had told you that night, unknowingly and everything he was saying now, you could see it all in a new light.

Right now, with his cheeks flushed and his chest still heaving from anger and emotion it’s clear that those feelings are still very much present. He’s so worked up that you have to put a hand on his chest, something you often did with Roman, to calm him. Though unlike Roman, B instantly softens as soon as you touch him, practically melting under your hand.

“B, stop. It’s ok, I’m not getting back together with him. We talked and he apologized. It was nice closure, but that’s all it was for me, was closure. I can’t forget what he did. What you did to help me. You’re right, we did build me up and he’s not worth losing myself or you over. I don’t want to do this to you anymore, I don’t want to lose you” You can literally feel his heart skip a beat as you drop this information on him.

His mouth tries to form words but all he comes up with is “oh”. He’s surprised to say the least. “So what now? Is he going to go back to being an asshole to me about you?”

You frown. “Not if I have anything to say about it. I really am sorry you had so much to deal with because of me. So much stuff that I had no idea about. You did it so well, you’ve been so understanding, so good. If it were anybody else, they wouldn’t have lasted a day dealing with me and all of my baggage. But you, you’ve been the answer to all of my prayers”.

His heart catches at your words. Finally, finally he was getting some recognition for all the hell he had been through for you. He gives you a soft smile and a little shrug. “Wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m glad you didn’t have to deal with it, honestly. Now that I don’t have to worry about you not listening to me about him it makes it all that much more worth it. You’re worth it”.

You roll your eyes but there’s a smile on your face as you say, “and I love you for that” and you don’t know what that little line does to him.

He has to look away when you say that even though he knows you can see the blush quickly taking over his cheeks and feel his heart hammer a little faster over it. It gives him a little courage to try and see if maybe he can get you to say those words to him again, but in the way that he’s been wanting all of these years.  

“You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?” He mumbles, running a hand over his face.

“What’s that supposed to me, Caufield?” You ask, tilting your head up so that your eyes can search his face.

A look of wonder is on his face as he says “You have no idea do you?”

Now it’s your turn for your heart to speed up as you do have an idea of what he might be about to tell you.

You don’t get the chance to hear what he has to say because you hear yelling from the hall and the voice that it belongs to is Owen. Both of your heads turn as he crashes through your door, breathless.

“Y/N have you seen Brock, I think we have a problem - oh shit, am I interrupting something?”

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 3

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Wednesday morning we had so many orders to fill that I was left filling the one for the police station all by myself. I saved Marshall’s for last and when I knew Darcy wasn’t looking (not that she would have minded), I wrote a quick note on the paper sleeve the cookies went in. 

    ‘Thank you again for Saturday night - Fiona’

Then I put in two extra cookies in the sleeve and placed it in the box before sealing it with the store sticker.

When I arrived at the station, I kept my eye out for Marshall, hoping to see him again. Despite being convinced that he wasn’t interested in me and that nothing would come out of my crush on him, I hadn’t been interested in anyone since Ezra had broken up with me and it felt nice to know that I was capable of feeling things again. 

I worked quickly, doing my best to not be sloppy, as I tried to get done before Marshall could come in. I wanted an excuse to take his lunch to his office. I craved the opportunity to talk to him one on one again, even if it was short. I managed to set all of the orders out and pack up my stuff before he came in, so I grabbed his box and excitedly made my way towards his office. I was looking for his name on the doors and almost passed his up because his door was open, making the nameplate hard to see. I backed up and stood in the doorway for a moment, deciding how to announce myself. I finally settled for knocking on the outside wall. There was no answer. I waited for about half a minute before stepping in. I looked around, but his office was empty.

My heart sank a little, but I went to his desk so that I could leave his lunch on it, but it was almost completely covered in files and folders and notepads. There was a small space right in front of his chair that was empty with the exception of a yellow Post It note. Since his desk was full, I decided to leave the box on his chair, but when I circled around to it, I glanced at the note, then did a double take. 

 ‘Thanks for lunch, Fi.’   

I immediately started blushing. I almost wanted to take the note with me but I didn’t. I left his lunch and got out of there before someone came by and wondered why a delivery girl was in one of the detective’s offices smiling like a lunatic. 

The rest of my day, to put it mildly, was a real dumpster fire. I got a flat tire and had to change it on a busy road where no one stopped to help, but a few people did honk. Back at work, I burnt my forearm taking bread out of the oven. Then, when I checked my phone before getting in the car to go home, I saw that I had two unread texts from Demi. One was cold but simply said that being friends with me was no longer working for her. The second, sent an hour later, went into greater detail and basically circled back on her comment the other night about me being ‘immature’. I tried to hold it together, I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t. I sat in my car and cried. It was the only safe space where I could cry like that in peace. Or at least I thought it was. After several minutes, there was a knock on my window. I expected to see Darcy checking in on me. Instead it was Marshall. I was so surprised to see him that I stopped crying immediately and let out a little squeak. 

His brow was knitted together in concern as he made a hand motion for me to roll my window down. I did and he lowered his head to look me in the face. “Are you alright?” 

I tried to smile and nodded, but then I realized how silly that was. No one cries in their car when they’re fine. It wouldn’t take a skilled detective to figure that one out. So I paused, let out a breath, then shook my head. “No. I’m having a bad day,” I said. “But it’ll pass.” 

He didn’t look convinced. “Can I…?” He pointed to my passenger’s seat. 

“Yeah.” I unlocked my doors and wiped at my tears, trying to dry my cheeks as he walked around. When he sat in my car, his knees went up to his chest and his eyes went wide for a second, looking like a confused puppy. I laughed. “You can adjust the seat with the bar in the front,” I said. “Sorry, I should have slid it back before you got in. Mom’s the only person who sits there and she’s pretty tiny.”

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling on the bar under the seat and sending it back almost all the way. He let out a relieved breath as he stretched his long legs out.

“Why…” I started and trailed off. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“So you’re not here for your case?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t have your number. I called here and your boss said that if I hurried, I might catch you.” 

I turned in my seat so that I could look at him better. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Will you tell me about your day first?” he asked, reaching out to put his hand on my forearm, right on my burn. It hurt and I instinctively pulled my arm away. He looked confused, his wide puppy eyes coming back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt you. I shouldn’t have -” 

“No, you’re fine. It’s not you.” I pushed my sweater sleeve towards my elbow and held my arm out for him to see. “I burnt myself earlier. I was getting bread out of the oven.”

“Is that what you were upset about?”

“It’s one of the reasons. It’s just been a horrible afternoon.”

“Can I make an offer that might help?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He looked at me, pursing his lovely lips for a moment, then said, “Would you let me buy you coffee?” 

I laughed. “Out of pity?”

He smiled, a full beautiful smile, showing his teeth. “If that’ll make you say yes, then sure.”

“Oh,” I said, heat creeping up my ears. “Oh. You really want to take me out to coffee?”

He swallowed. My eyes were instantly drawn to his Adam’s apple as it moved. “If you would let me, yes.”

I suddenly felt shy and couldn’t look at him. “I, um… I would love to.” 

“Would right now be a good time for you?”

I nodded. “It would be perfect,” I said. “Unless it interferes with your job and your case.”

“We actually closed the case today.” 

I smiled. “So you had the good afternoon,” I said. “Congratulations.” 

“It hardly feels like a victory but I’m pleased that it’s finally closed and to have answers for the family.” 

“You don’t strike me as the type of person who finds victory in any case as long as there are victims.” 

He let out a breath and shook his head. “No, I don’t.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, almost nervous looking. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee,” I said. “Do you have anywhere particular in mind?”

“There’s a place called South York, do you know it?”

My anxiety hit me in a rush. I was caught between excited nervousness from the offer of coffee with Marshall, to a sudden kick of nerves at the mention of South York. I was trying to figure out a way to politely suggest another place without getting into detail as to why, when he caught my eye and smiled. 

“You don’t like it?” he asked. 

“No, I do, it used to be my favorite.”

“Used to be?” 

“I, um, I just had a bad experience the last time I was there.”

His brow furrowed again as he looked at me more intently. “I have a feeling you’re referring to more than just a bad cup of coffee, yeah?”

I nodded. “But I feel like every time I’m around you, I end up telling you more about myself than you’re bargaining for, so I won’t go into details.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. “Well, I am a detective and getting people to talk is a big part of my job, so maybe that bit is on me,” he said. “And just because I’m not great at talking doesn’t mean that I mind other people who are.” 

“That’s the thing - I’m not, it’s just when I’m around you.”

“Is that a bad thing, though?”

I rubbed my neck. “I don’t know. My ex-boyfriend used to hate it when I rambled, so it can get annoying, I guess.”

“Is that why you broke up with him? Because he was an idiot?”

I smiled. “I should have dumped him because he was an idiot, but no, he actually broke up with me,” I said, my smile faltering. “Right after I got the call about my dad’s wreck.” I managed to look him in the eye. “We were on a date at South York.” 

I watched his eyes change as he took in what I said. There was no more soft puppy, it was all angry ocean like it had been that night in the bar. I hated admitting to myself how much I liked that look when I knew he was angry on my behalf. 

“He broke up with you after you found out about your father dying?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Dad wasn’t… He died later that night. I just knew that it was a bad car wreck. I went into shock after Mom called me, so I was calm when I told him what happened. He said later that he didn’t think it was that serious because I wasn’t reacting like it was. But the whole time he was driving me to the hospital to drop me off, he kept asking if I understood what was going on, that we were through.” I shook my head. “I had never wanted to throat punch someone as much as I did him, and if he hadn’t been driving, I probably would have.”

“For a completely unrelated reason, I need his full name and last known address.”

I laughed. “There’s a very big part of me that would actually love to give that to you.”

“What’s stopping it and what can I do to change it?” 

“I don’t know that you can change it because what’s stopping it is the other, bigger part of me that would rather start with a clean slate and not be the woman you have to rescue from a bar and has the idiotic ex-boyfriend who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“You’re not either of those.”

“I’m just the wreck you find crying in her car and won’t stop talking?”

He shook his head, his brown curls bouncing at the nape of his neck. “No. You’re the beautiful woman who seems to be holding everything together as best as she can and is having a hard day,” he said. “And who left me a lovely surprise of extra cookies.”

I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as my heart began pounding. I stretched my palms out on my legs, trying to covertly wipe the sweat that was suddenly pouring from them. I swallowed hard. “You think I’m beautiful?” I asked, my voice a rough whisper.

“You are beautiful.” He said it like a fact.

I looked at him from under my lashes, feeling too shy to look at him straight on. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

South York had been my favorite coffee shop since my senior year of high school, but that afternoon my new favorite became Birchwood Coffee. Sitting at a table by the window with Marshall, feeling the last of the afternoon’s sun shining through, warming me up as we drank coffee while we sat talking was the loveliest feeling that I’d had in a long time. I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone interested in me. Someone who cared enough to ask me questions and actually listen. I’d been lonely for so long, I’d forgotten that that’s what it was. I thought it was just a part of me, like my anxiety used to be, like my grief was. But talking to him I realized it was something far easier to sweep away. At least he made it seem easier. 

“Do you mind if I ask about your daughter?” I said.

“What would you like to know?”

“You told me that she was thirteen, but I don’t think you told me her name.” 

“It’s Faye.” 

“That’s pretty,” I said. “What’s she like?”

He ran a hand over his beard, his fingers combing through it while he thought. He gave a small laugh as he let his hand fall back to his thigh. “She’s stubborn and strong willed, like me. But she’s smarter, far smarter than I was as a teenager. A lot more social, too. Which doesn’t make it easy to keep up with all of her friends, but I try,” he said. “And she can hold her own. She won’t take crap from anyone. Her mother and I got called into a meeting at her school not long ago. A boy had flipped up a girl’s skirt and tried taking a picture. Faye pushed him and he broke his nose when he fell. His parents wanted an apology for assaulting him. She refused. She said that if they were going to excuse him harassing a girl and attempting to violate her privacy as ‘boys just being boys’, then her physical assault to prevent him from doing that was just ‘girls having to be girls’ and that she should get the same slap on the wrist that he got. I said, ‘good girl’ and we both got kicked out.”

I smiled. “Did she get in trouble?”

He shook his head as he picked up his coffee cup. “No. My ex-wife is far more level headed - not to mention better at arguing her point - and she handled it.” 

“Is it hard spending time with her with your job? I imagine you don’t have the typical nine to five hours,” I asked as he took a sip of his coffee. Again, my eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple. I tried to drag my sight away before he caught me staring. 

“We make it work,” he said. “I try to take her to school as often as I can and she stays over on occasion.” 

He had an errant curl that drooped down over his forehead and I had to restrain myself from reaching out to brush it back. Something about him inspired a desire in me to take care of him. I wanted to make sure he got enough sleep, drank enough water, ate right and regularly while working a case. I couldn’t explain it. 

He set his cup down on the table, his hand still clutching it. His arm was close enough to my own that was resting on the table in front of me that I could feel the heat from it. “How’s your mum?” he asked.

“She’s...okay. She’s going a bit stir crazy and keeps talking about going back to work, but I don’t know if she’s ready for it.”

“What did she do?”

“She taught music. The violin,” I said. “That’s how she met my dad; they both played the violin in the city orchestra when they were in college.”

“Did he teach as well?”

“No. He was a physics engineer. I think music was just a way to shut off the analytical part of his brain for a while.”

“Do you play the violin, too?”

I laughed. “No. That was my form of rebellion, I refused to play it or any stringed instrument.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I did play the piano, though.”

“You did? Not anymore?” 

I shrugged. “I haven’t played in the last couple of years. With everything going on, it just slipped to the bottom of my list.”

He nodded. “That’s understandable.” 

“Do you play any instruments?” 

He laughed, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a smile, making a dimple visible on his cheek through his beard. “No, I was never patient enough for that. I was always outside, running about or riding bikes with my brother, getting up to no good.” 

“Were you a trouble maker as a kid?” 

He kept smiling as he nodded. “Nothing terrible. Not like the boys who stole or damaged other people’s property, but yeah, we got into our fair share of trouble.” 

One of the women who worked at the shop came to our table to ask if we needed refills on our coffee. I passed but Marshall accepted. While she poured it for him, I couldn’t help but notice how she looked at him, how unnecessarily close she stood, how her touch lingered on his fingers as she handed his cup back. I couldn’t tell if he was really good at pretending not to notice her attention or if he was so used to having women fawning over him that he’d become oblivious to it. Something told me that it wasn’t the latter. The thought that I held his attention above all of the attractive options surrounding him made my heart flutter. I tried to hold back the smile that thought brought on, but I couldn’t. He noticed. 

“You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“I’m thinking that you’re a pretty good cure for a rotten day.” 

Eventually, despite all the coffee he kept drinking, exhaustion seemed to catch up to Marshall. I noticed him yawning more and more, and his already limited talking slowing down. When I pointed it out, he apologized but admitted that he hadn’t slept much while working his case and that it was finally getting to him. I told him that I understood and that as much as I was enjoying myself, it would make me feel even better if he went home and got some much needed sleep. He agreed, but not before asking if we could exchange numbers. I’d never given mine out with so much enthusiasm. 

We’d parked side by side in front of the shop and he walked me to my car. After I unlocked it, I looked at him. He was standing in front of me, the warm lights of the coffee shop shining behind him, lighting him up like some other worldly being. I couldn’t remember ever being more attracted to someone as much as I was him in that moment. 

“Thank you for the coffee. I really enjoyed it,” I said.

“Yeah, I did, too,” he agreed. “Would you like to do it again sometime? Perhaps when I’ve had a little more sleep?”

I smiled. “I’d love to. I’m very interested in what a fully rested Marshall is like.”

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly, smiling back at me. “I don’t know if he exists anymore, but I can offer you a partially rested one, how’s that?”

“I’ll take it.”

He nodded, chewing the corner of his lip for a moment. “Can I call you?”

It shouldn’t have caused butterflies when he asked me that, we’d just exchanged numbers after all, but the simple act of him asking made my stomach feel like a thousand butterflies had taken flight. I tried to stay calm looking on the outside, though.

“Yes. Of course. Whenever you’re free.”

He gave me a smile, the kind where it was more in his eyes than his mouth, and I loved what it did to his already beautiful eyes. “I’m probably going to go home and sleep for the next four days, so it may be some time after that, but I’ll call you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “Now go home and rest.” 

His smile widened. “Yes, ma’am.”

I called out for Mom as soon as I got in the door. She had been in the kitchen and came and met me in the entryway after I locked the door. When I saw her, I let out a happy little squeal. 

“A good date, I take it?” she said, beaming at me. 

“He’s just so stinking handsome!” I exclaimed. “And he’s lovely. And he smells nice. And he’s so warm that you can feel it just by sitting next to him. And I swear he’d be the biggest teddy bear if I could ever get the chance to hug him.” I sighed. “Mom, I feel like a teenager. I’ve not had a crush on someone like this in my entire adult life. I never felt this way about Ezra. Ever.”

“I’m so happy for you, sweetie,” she said. “What Ezra did to you was wrong. Breaking up with you after Dad’s wreck was bad enough, but leaving your stuff on our front lawn while we were at the hospital, and then ransacking your apartment to get his stuff back while we were making funeral arrangements.” She shook her head. “I still get so angry when I think about it. No one deserves being treated that coldly, especially not you, Bird.” 

“And you let him know it, didn’t you?” I said, taking off my coat. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face when you told him to sit down so that you could look him in the eye while you scolded him. That was a lot of anger jam packed in a tiny lady.”

“Am I going to have to do that with your Detective Marshall?” 

“Scold him? I don’t think so. Sit him down so that you can look him in the eye? Absolutely,” I said “But it’s just Marshall, Mom. I’m not naive enough to believe he’s my anything after a single coffee date.”

I may not have believed it, but it didn’t keep me from wanting it. 

[settersloveletters]

hello hellooo!! i literally love ur blog so mf much, can i pls request some yummy angst w a fluffy ending w tsukki and kenma 🥺? where their s/o feels jealous n insecure maybe about another girl and when they bring it up they end up having a huge fight ?

— you’re great; oneshot

a/n: okay,, i only wrote tsukki’s right now and i’ll get to kenma’s soon but i really wanted to post this tonight so i hope that’s okay >_< also idk how to write angst so i’m sorry if this doesn’t pull your heartstrings ;w;

oh i also started to write in proper grammar and not all lowercase ehehe

➳ request: s/o insecure abt another girl + angst + big fight with tsukki and kenma

➳ pairing: tsukishima x f!reader

➳ genre: angst, fluffy at the end

➳ word count: 1.9k

➳ admin: kiri ♡

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You continued to tap the top end of your pencil against your desk, leaning your head against the palm of your hand as you glared at the familiar blonde across the room. You and Tsukishima Kei had been an item for almost a year now, and you couldn’t be happier. That is, until your homeroom teacher assigned a project that required everyone to be in pairs.

“Earth to (Y/N),” Hitoka Yachi, your assignment partner and best friend, waved her hand in front of your face. “You’re gonna get wrinkles on your forehead if you keep glaring at Tsukishima-kun and Akari-san.”

“I am not glaring at them.” You scoff, leaning back against your chair and folding your arms over your chest.

“(Y/N) you shouldn’t be worried about anything,” Yachi responded, “Tsukishima-kun only has eyes for you.”

You blew your bangs out of your face in frustration as you turned towards the window. You knew that you shouldn’t be worrying over this trivial matter, but the fact that your boyfriend was spending most of his time with the most popular girl — also dubbed at the most prettiest — in your year bothered you.

“Doesn’t help that Kei’s partners with Akari-san.” You argue back. Akari Hana was the girl that every guy dreamed about. Smart, athletic, pretty. You were insecure enough. When you compare yourself to Akari you could find so many flaws in you and so many perfections in her. It didn’t help that your last boyfriend — which was back in junior high — broke up with you for a girl similar to Akari.

As the bell rang, signaling that school was over, you gathered your things into your school bag and was about to head over to Tsukki when you stopped. You watched as your boyfriend — without glancing at you — made his way out the class. Still talking to Akari. You purse your lips and gripped the strap of your bag.

It’s okay. You were fine.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The rest of the week remained just like that. Tsukki only offering you good morning texts and a peck on the cheek when he sees you, before making his way to Akari. Again. Every time you tried to talk to, or approach Tsukki he would brush you off before he ran off to Ms. Popularity.

You told yourself that it was fine, and that they were only spending that much time together for the sake of the project. However you started to notice how much closer the two started to get. Every time you see either of them, the other is right beside them. Even as you went to the volleyball club’s practice after school, you stopped yourself from entering the gym as you saw Akari watching from the sides. You turned right around and went home. The only text you got from Tsukki was him asking where you were, to which you replied saying you weren’t feeling well.

[5:43] my little tsun-chan: hey why didn’t you come to practice today?

[5:50] you: i went home, wasn’t feeling well

[6:00] my little tsun-chan: dumbass, you gotta take better care of yourself

You tossed your phone to the side and pressed your face into your pillow. Kei you idiot.

Friday finally came around and you couldn’t be more relieved. Friday was the day you and Tsukki held your weekly movie nights. One of the days that left a special place in your heart. You smiled as you made your way to school, knowing that this was one day that Akari Hana couldn’t take Tsukki away.

“Oh sorry (Y/N),” Tsukki looked at you. You found him underneath a tree out in the school yard. You assumed that he was waiting for you, however that wasn’t the case. “Hana-san and I were gonna finish the assignment today.”

“But we always have movie nights Fridays.” You furrow your eyebrows. “We’ve never missed one unless you have a game.”

“Well yeah, but this is for school and Hana-san is busy over the weekend so we only have today to finish.” Tsukki pulled out his phone.

“Hana-san? Since when have you started calling her by her first name?”

“I forgot, but she’s the one who insisted and I didn’t really care.” Tsukki replied, not sparing you any glacé.

“You and Akari-san have gotten a lot closer huh?” You bite your lip, your throat starting to hurt.

“Well yeah, we’re partners of course.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her too. We’ve barely talked to each other this whole week” You brought your gaze downwards, whispering the last sentence.

“(Y/N), don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Tsukki, rolled his eyes, finally looking at you.

“Is it my fault that I’m worried? Probably.” You bite your lip harder. “Akari-san’s amazing though. She’s pretty, smart, talented and athletic.”

“Yeah she’s all of those things. But you’re great too (Y/N).”

“Just great… That makes me feel better.” You laugh bitterly.

Just hearing Tsukki say stuff like it wasn’t a big deal, affected you a lot. You started to remember this exact scenario happening back in your last year of junior high. Where you confronted your current boyfriend at the time and asked him about a girl in your grade that all the guys fawned over. If you weren’t already insecure the words that he said raised the bar.

“She’s just amazing. From her face to her personality. But you’re great too (Y/N).”

But you’re great too (Y/N). But you’re great too (Y/N). But you’re great too (Y/N).

You could feel some tears welling up in your eyes as you remember that phrase, “You seem like you like Akari-san a lot.”

“What are you jealous?” He smirks.

“Do you think this is a joke?” You can see a figure out of the corner of your eye. Glancing towards the side you see Akari Hana walking out of the school doors looking around for Tsukki.

“Okay Hana-san and I need to finish our assignment. When you’ve gotten over your unnecessary jealousy, I’ll text you.” He started to walk towards Akari.

“You know what. I’m done Tsukishima.” You dig your nails into your hand. “If you think Akari is all that, you might as well go out with her.”

Tsukki turns around at your statement, “What? (Y/N) what are you even saying?” He touches your wrist.

“NO! Don’t touch me!” You yell, shrinking away from his touch. “Just go to Akari. I’m done Tsukishima.”

You turn away and run off to your house.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You spend your weekend locked up in your room, eating ice cream and chips while reading sad fanfiction to soothe your aching heart. Tsukki tried calling you after you ran home, and even sent multiple texts. But you just brushed it off, putting your phone on do not disturb as to not disrupt your reading.

When Sunday came around, your heart hurt just more than it had been. It was your one year anniversary with Tsukki. Or it would’ve been. You covered yourself with your blankets as you hugged your stuffed animal. You gave up reading on fanfics and decided to just lay there, staring off into space. You enjoyed the quietness.

“(Y/N)-CHAN!” Your bedroom door was slammed open, surprising you from the sudden loud noise. You looked up to see Yachi standing in the doorway. “I’m here to take you out because you’ve been stuck inside all weekend.”

“Yachi please no,” You groan, pulling the covers over your head. “Just let me wither away in my sadness.”

“Nope it’s almost 6 and you’ve spend the entire day inside, now get up and get in the shower.” Yachi replied, grabbing the covers off of you.

Groaning once again, you begrudgingly made your way to your bathroom knowing that you couldn’t argue your way out of this. Stepping back into your room, wrapped in your towels you see Yachi sitting on your bed, texting away on her phone.

“Who’re you texting?”

“Huh? Oh, just Hinata-kun don’t worry.” Yachi says, placing her phone down on your bed. “You’re wearing that by the way.”

She points to a yellow sundress covered in a floral pattern laid out on your bed. Letting out a sigh, you grab the dress and head back into your bathroom to change. After fixing yourself up, You and Yachi head downstairs. Reaching the final step you hear a knock at your door which leaves you confused. Looking back at Yachi, she shrugs her shoulders at you.

Opening the door, you come face-to-face with the person you’d least expect to show up. “What’re you doing here.”

At your door stands Tsukki, in a pair of khaki coloured pants and a navy blue polo shirt. He was holding a bouquet of flowers as he darted his eyes everywhere, except your own eyes.

“I–uh,” Tsukki, sighed and finally looked at you. “(Y/N), please let me explain everything.”

“I’m supposed to be going out with Yachi right now.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Actually (Y/N), Hinata-kun texted me and needs my help with Kageyama-kun.” Yachi speaks up, “I gotta go but I’ll talk to you later!”

The blonde girl heads out the door before you could say anything and you’re left alone with Tsukki. The two of you fall into uncomfortable silence, something that hasn’t happened between you in awhile.

“(Y/N)–“ Tsukki starts to say, but you cut him off before anything.

“As much as I don’t wanna talk to you, I’ll give you 10 minutes.”

“I need 30 minutes.”

Your mouth gapes open, “30 minutes, Tsukishima–“

“Please, (Y/N).” He pleaded.

“Fine.”

After a long walk in silence, the sun had started to set that an orange hue was left in the sky. Tsukishima led you to a small park away from the houses and roads. From a distance you could see small little lights littering the ground. As you got closer, you realized that the little lights littering the ground were candles. Candles that led to a small gazebo where a table setting was set up in the middle.

“Tsukishima what is this?” You asked as he pulled out your chair for you to sit.

“This is what me and Han- Akari-san had been planning.” Tsukki reveals.

“Akari-chan?”

“All that time her and I have been spending, she’s been helping me plan this for our one year.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You suddenly feel stupid for thinking the things you thought. You felt stupid for thinking that Tsukishima would ever be like your ex-boyfriend. You just felt stupid.

“I–“ You don’t even know what to say.

“No don’t you dare apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry for just edging you on like that. I just made things worse.” Tsukki took your hands in his. “I have no idea how to express how I’m feeling without being sarcastic. And I hurt you. But I swear to you (Y/N), I love you and I will always love you.”

You could feel the tears coming up in your eyes, but you feel Tsukki’s calloused fingers wipe them away. “I’m sorry for acting so jealous and insecure. And for jumping to conclusions.”

Tsukki shakes his head. “Let’s just put this behind us.” He leans in and places a kiss on your forehead showing his affection.

Your relationship stood strong ever since.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[Behind the Scenes]

(Y/N): wait a minute did yachi have a hand in this too? Is that why she came to my house and got me to get ready?

Tsukki: maybe

(Y/N): wait is that hinata and yachi… and akari-san in those bushes??

three heads pop up before the three run off

[lils-of-the-valley]

Summer Time (Family) Madness

What’s up! I finally wrote something and didn’t post it at 1 am! That doesn’t mean I proofread it though (RIP I'm so tired I posted it to the wrong blog so I had to redo it)

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AO3

Apologizing to Emily was a lot harder than Langa had anticipated. He knew he could be stubborn, but Emily was worse. She did everything in her power to avoid him: locking herself in Nanako’s room as soon as he left his, turning away from him if she had the misfortune of being in the living room when he got back from work or the skatepark, eating at a different time from Langa and his mother. No matter what Langa tried, she refused to acknowledge him. He didn’t exist anymore to her.

And Langa had tried reaching out to her, both physically and metaphorically. He had tried grabbing her arm, forcing her to acknowledge him, but he was just shaken off the same way he had shaken her off three days prior. He had tried being gentler, calling her name the few times he did see her leave the room to get food, but he had been ignored. Langa had even tried texting her an apology, but the text had never been opened, the little checkmark never appearing next to his text. Emily was rightfully pissed, Langa understood that, but after 72 hours, he was starting to get annoyed again. She could have at least given him a chance! It had been three days, for crying out loud!

“Seem familiar?” Nanako asked over her cup of tea. Langa didn’t miss the amused smile on his mother’s face or the way her brown eyes were staring straight through him. Recently, she was really starting to pick up on whatever Langa was feeling, which he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for or absolutely mortified about.

“I-!” Langa bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed his pancake around his plate. “Okay, fair.”

“Look, I talked to Emily this morning. She’s still pretty mad at you for snapping at her and refusing to tell her why, but she seems ready to talk about it. It wasn’t my place to explain your actions, but I did encourage her to give you a chance to apologize. Which,” Langa shrunk in his seat the way his mother was looking at him, “I really shouldn’t have had to do, Langa. You’re an adult now; you shouldn’t need to have your mother fixing your problems anymore.” Nanako sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she took a long sip of her tea. “But, here we are. I don’t even want to imagine the chaos that would have been if your father and I had decided to give you a little brother or sister. I don’t think I would have survived those fights if I’m struggling with just you and your cousin.”

Langa had asked a few times for a baby brother or sister when he had been younger. He had been in kindergarten and watching the children arrive with siblings made him envy them. The closest thing he had to a sibling was Emily, and he only say her during the summer. But those kids, they had a friend all year long. And they didn’t have to meet anyone new because siblings were family and family wasn’t scary. Not like all the kids whose faces were starting to blur together.

As he got older, he grew to be content with being an only child. He didn’t have to share at home. Everything at home was his: his toys, his parents, his room. As he grew older, he heard the other kids complain about their siblings, how they were hogging the tv or finished the last of the cereal without telling anyone. So Langa was happy with being alone. It was perhaps selfish of him, but he was glad he just had to deal with another kid just during the summer. Playing with Emily in the summer was more than enough.

But as he got older, Langa also wondered what it would have been like to have a real sibling, someone constantly buzzing around him. Would they have snowboarded with him? Would they have looked up at him? Would they have played with him? Would they have fought a lot? And would Langa have been a good brother, like Reki was? Would he have been able to help his sibling with their homework or their daily problems? Would he have been able to give and give and give so much like Reki did? Would have been as kind as Reki when-

Langa shook his head, shaking away the thought of Reki. He had to stop thinking of Reki all the damn time.

“Maybe it would have been better if I had a sibling. Maybe I would actually know how to say sorry?”

A light chuckle shook the teacup his mother was holding to her lips. “Maybe. But it’s never too late to start learning! I really think you should go see Emily. Oh! And bring her breakfast while you’re at it! It’ll be bonus points for you!”

Langa gave his mother a curt nod before moving to the kitchen counter to prepare a plate of pancakes for Emily. If there was one thing Langa knew, it was that food always cheers people up. Food was a universal peace offering that no one could refuse. Nobody could refuse a good plate of fluffy pancakes drowned in maple syrup. Or at least, Langa wouldn’t have been able to refuse. Hopefully, Emily wouldn’t refuse.

The confidence that Langa had built up lasted a grand total of three minutes, just enough time to assemble the plate and make his way to his mother’s room. Everything had been clear in his head: he would knock and apologize to Emily, offering him the pancakes. It was a simple plan, but when it came time to execute it, Langa froze. The words jumbled in his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He had to knock. Form a fist, lightly tap the door, that was all. Yet it felt like the most difficult thing to do. His fingers only tightened around the plate, not wanting to let go of it.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? If, a big if, Emily opened the door after he finally fessed up the courage to knock, then he would have to say something. He’d have to say sorry. He would have to say sorry, but for what? For being cold and distant and…. Like himself? No. That was making excuses. It was a bad habit of his, apologizing and making excuses for himself. Like when he had that big fight with Reki- No! He was not thinking of Reki. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to say sorry for shouting at her. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to apologize for being inconsiderate and too in his own head to realize that he was hurting her and straight-up selfish. He was going to apologize instead of ignoring the situation until it went away.

With a deep breath, Langa raised his first. One knock. Silence. Two knocks. Movement in the room. Three knocks. The door creaking open.

Emily stood in the doorway, staring up at Langa, her eyes devoid of their usual warmth. Her eyes flickered between his face and the plate he was holding up for her, a peace offering. There was no sign of cheeriness in her face, only a deep frown. She was small, but she seemed so big. Small, but intimidating.

Langa shifted from foot to foot, pushing the plate into her hands. “It’s, it’s for you. Mom made it. Thought you’d like some.”

Finally! Finally, she took the plate, though she didn’t seem any closer to wanting to listen to Langa. But she didn’t turn away. She just stood there in the doorway, plate in hand.

“And I- I just…” Langa inhaled sharply. He could do this. He could fix this. “I’m sorry.”

It was stupid. It was so stupid. He felt like a little kid on the playground, small and childish, sent off to apologize for breaking the other kid’s plastic shovel. He felt like a child who had no clue how to apologize. Sorry. I’m sorry. It was all he knew how to say. He didn’t know how to truly, properly apologize. He had never cared enough about people to feel the need to say more than just sorry.

“Did your mom send you to apologize or is this really from you?”

“Me! I’m sorry, I mean it.” Langa did mean it, but Emily didn’t seem completely convinced yet. “I… shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, alright,” she shifted her weight onto one foot, leaning into the doorframe, “don’t need to overuse it. I know we’re known for constantly apologizing, but you know damn well that that’s just a stereotype. You don’t actually have to say sorry every other word.”

“But I feel like I should.”

Emily sighed. “Alright. Don’t overdo it either. But,” she glanced towards the kitchen behind Langa, right where Nanako was sitting, sipping her tea and finishing her breakfast, “can we talk in your room? Like, don’t get me wrong, I love Auntie Nanako, but it’s just… feels weird doing this in front of her. Like we’re back at the grandparents and we have to apologize for breaking whatever before going home and the parents want to make sure we’ve properly apologized? Yeah, it’s… it’s really weird. No offense to your mom or anything.”

“I get it, no worries. Reki’s the same way.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips. “You really never stop thinking of him, do you?”

“I-!” He didn’t. He had to stop, but somehow Reki always found his way back into Langa’s head. “He’s my best friend. And the only one of my friends who’s come over. So it’s just, it’s a coincidence.”

“Uh-huh, sure, sure.” Emily brushed past Langa, making her way to his room with her breakfast. “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“I’m serious!” Langa huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and refusing to acknowledge the heat forming in his cheeks as he followed his cousin. “You know, for someone who’s pissed at me, you sure are in a good mood.”

“Oh.” Emily stopped in front of his closed-door before turning to him with a grin. “I stopped being mad at you like two days ago.”

Two days ago. That was impossible. Just last night she was leaving the kitchen as soon as Langa was coming in, kicking his shoes off. Just last night she was locking herself in his mother’s room, refusing to even look at him. It was impossible that she wasn’t still mad at him. It didn’t make sense.

“Yeah, I’m just really petty.”

It was the way she was saying it, just shrugging as she pushed the door open. It was how nonchalant she was about it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You…” Langa sighed. Reasoning was impossible. “You made me suffer for three days, brushing me off, refusing to eat at the same time as me, basically telling me to go fuck myself for… for what reason?”

“You were insufferable for three days, so it was only fair that I made you suffer the same amount.”

“You,” Langa said with a huff and entering his room right behind his cousin, “are impossible.”

“Thanks!”

As Emily got comfortable on the floor, her back pressed against the closet door as she got ready to eat, Langa let his whole body flop onto his bed. It had gone better than he had anticipated, but it had still been exhausting. The spiraling insecurities always took a lot out of him. But as soon as his body sank into his mattress, his face hitting his pillow, everything melted away. Everything felt better, the weight of his mistakes lifted from his shoulders. And the sound of Emily struggling to cut her pancakes with her fork reminded him that things would be okay. He hadn’t broken everything important to him.

Langa shifted on his bed, folding his arms and tucking them under his chin as he looked over at Emily.

“I’m serious though. I am sorry about being insufferable and all. Just…”

“It’s fine, really. Apology accepted, Langa. Just,” Emily stopped picking at her plate, her brown eyes falling onto Langa instead, “can I finally know why you were acting all shitty and whatever?”

Why had he acted the way he did? The answer was terribly obvious, but it was also stupid. Terribly stupid.

“Reki?”

Silence emptied the room completely. Emile blinked at Langa, a forkful of pancakes hanging between her mouth and her plate as she gapped at him. It was stupid. So stupid. Langa should have lied. He should have found another reason. Now he seemed stupid because he was and this whole situation was stupid because of Langa’s stupid heart that was constantly beating in his chest at a speed that was probably alarming and-

“You…” Emily inhaled sharply, putting her plate and fork down onto her lap and brought her hands together to her mouth. Then her hands were pointed in Langa’s direction and he sank into his pillow. “You were an asshole to me for three days because of your boyfriend?”

Heat raced through his body as Langa jolted up. “He’s not-!”

“Fine! Your ‘best friend’ or whatever you wanna call it! What- What the actual fuck, Langa?”

“I don’t know! I don’t…”

Langa shouldn’t have been laughing. He should have been serious, trying to explain his mess. But Emily was laughing, her hands in her face as she wiped away tears, and it was hard to not laugh with her. Maybe she had also realized that everything was ridiculous. Maybe she had finally realized that Langa was absolutely ridiculous.

“I don’t know, Emmy. I really- It made sense, or maybe it never really did?”

“No, it does not make any sense. You do not make any sense, you twig!”

“I just… I was mad, okay? I don’t know who I was mad at – probably myself most of all – but it was just easier to take it out on you since, since, you know, you kinda, I mean, if you hadn’t come to DopeSketch then maybe?”

“You were pissed at me because your not-boyfriend suggested teaching me how to skate? You… what the fuck?”

Langa dropped back into his pillow, resisting the urge to scream. It sounded so much worse when said like that. It sounded so much worse when talking about it. If only he could disappear forever and avoid the absolute humiliation of having Emily half-screaming at him, half-laughing at him. It was worse than… than anything, really. Langa was ready to dig his own hole to hide in.

He peered over his pillow, not ready to let go of it quite yet. It was a rather effective shield.

“Yes? I mean… It’s not the skating part that bothered me. It’s the-”

“Part where it sounded like he was asking me out?”

Langa chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding hesitantly into his pillow. He was aware that he was acting like a child who was caught doing something wrong. He was aware that he looked stupid and foolish. He was aware that he was supposed to be able to handle himself just a little better than that, but what was he to do? The pillow was the only thing keeping him safe.

“Langa! You useless-!”

Langa almost missed Emily pinching the bridge of her nose, looking more exasperated than he had ever seen her.

“You… Look, first off, he wasn’t asking me out. And second of all, if you had stuck around an extra 20 seconds, you would have known I turned him down.”

Emily had turned Reki down. She had refused him. What kind of monster refuses anything from Reki?

“What? Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you turn him down?”

Emily clicked her tongue as she stared up at the ceiling. “Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Your ‘friend’ there,” Langa cringed at the air quotes, “really did sound like he was asking me out, which apparently actually wasn’t his intention. But even if it had been his intention, he’s basically a kid. He’s not even 18, is he?”

“Next week.”

“So he’s not even 18, which is… weird? I don’t know, even if he was 18, it would still be weird for me. Not that was the main point of this. The most important part of this,” Emily straightened out, leaning closer to Langa, “I know you like him. Hell, I think everyone knows that you’re basically head over heels for him.”

“Everyone but him,” Langa mumbled into his pillow, completely defeated. There was no point in moving out of the fluff.

“I… I don’t think you’re giving the kid enough credit, Langa. I don’t think he’s as dense as you paint him to be.”

“Oh great. Yay for me. I get to fuck up yet another friendship.”

“I… also don’t think you’re messing up your friendship.” Langa could hear Emily shuffle on her side of the room, the fork clanking against the ceramic plate. She was probably starting to feel sore from the hardwood floor. “Look, I don’t know shit. The only news I’ve gotten of you in the past three years has been from your mom talking to grandma who would then tell my mom. And from the time I’ve been here, well, I’m just your dumb, airhead cousin. My opinion isn’t worth shit, but it kinda looks like it might be reciprocated?”

Langa propped up onto his elbows, huffing as he stared at Emily. “It’s not. And all you’re achieving right now is giving me false hope.”

“No! That’s not-! I didn’t mean… I was talking to Reki, after you stormed off like a big baby.”

“Gee, thanks. False hope and making fun of me.”

“And like, I was telling him that I was flattered and all, but that I had to turn down his offer since, you know, I’m heading back home in a couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone to try something with an expiration date and he doesn’t seem to be the type to just wanna hook up or whatever.”

Langa buried his face in his pillow again, hands over his ears. “I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t-”

“I didn’t say that to him, you twig! Now listen to me! I don’t wanna talk about sex with you, anyway!”

Langa’s face was flushed and panicked as he lifted it from his pillow for what felt like the thousandth time in a very little amount of time. His voice was high-pitched, only accentuating his horror. “I don’t wanna talk about sex with anyone! Especially not- No!”

“Aw, it’s okay, little baby Langa. I won’t disgust you with that. But I will tell you that Reki is so cute when he’s flustered. Like, he’s adorable, isn’t he?”

“I… will not answer that.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smile stretching across her face.

“Right. I forgot, you probably find him cute even when he’s passed out cold, snoring and drooling into his pillow.” Langa stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. “But yeah, turns out that it was just genuine desire to get me to try something new that would keep me busy? He was so embarrassed at the whole miscommunication thing and thinking he was asking me out. But so very cute. Just wanted to pinch his cheeks and squish his little face! Ah! I can’t wait for you to ask him out! Like, it’ll be so cute! And dumb! Because look at you!”

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to describe whatever it was that was twisting in Langa’s body. There was the heat of embarrassment, the desire for Emily to just shut the fuck up, but there was also the lightness of familiarity and fun. Falling back into the easy banter was nice. It was much better than being mad or being ignored. It was… comforting to know that there was someone he could talk to like this.

“This feels homophobic.”

Emily stared at him with a deadpan expression which made him snicker.

“When’s the last time you made that joke?”

“Whenever the last time you spoke to me and forced my hand.”

“I did not- Go to Hell!”

Oh, she was making this just too easy for him.

“But,” Langa cocked his head to the side, not bothering to hide his amused smile, “isn’t that where all the gays go?”

Exasperation stained Emily’s face as she reached out to him, her hands making a choking motion. Oh, how he had missed the jokes. How he had missed being annoying and obnoxious.

“How? How have you not outed yourself yet?”

Langa shrugged. “Simple. I don’t know how to say half of this shit in Japanese, so I can’t say it. Plus, new place, new life. Only you get the privilege of dealing with how I was back in Canada. But you bet your ass that I’m thinking it, even if I’m not saying it.”

“I’m sure you’re also thinking of someone’s ass-!”

It was a reflex, throwing the pillow at Emily. It was the only thing Langa could think of to get her to shut up. But the moment the pillow collided with the girl, her whole body curling to defend herself from the attack, Langa knew he had fucked up. Metal and ceramic clattered across his floor, half-eaten pancakes and an ungodly amount of smuggled maple syrup pooling on Emily’s lap and at her feet. Both froze, staring at the white pillow soaking in the sticky mess they had created.

“Damn, all this because you can’t take an ass joke.”

“I will choke you.”

“Kinky. Keep it for your boyfriend.”

So Emily was even worse than him. At least, when it came to obnoxiously dumb jokes. When it came to cleaning, both sucked, just staring at the floor instead of doing anything. At this rate, Langa would be better off just buying himself a new pillow; there was no way he would manage to get all that syrup out of it. But moving meant acknowledging the problem, and Langa was not ready for that. Or maybe he just didn’t like cleaning up messes.

“If my pillow is trash, I will murder you.”

Reluctantly, Emily picked up the pillow, holding it far from herself. A large stain had formed on the pillowcase, having probably seeped through the fabric and into the pillow’s fluff. Her face twisted in disgust. She also didn’t seem keen on cleaning and laundry.

“I invite you to try, but people have been trying and failing for the past 20 years.”

Langa sighed, finally pulling his legs off his bed and crouching down in from of the flipped plate. How was he supposed to clean this up? Where did he even start?

“Just help me clean your mess.”

“My mess? Excuse me? You’re the one who hit me with a pillow and caused this!”

The fork. He would start by picking up the fork. And maybe the plate. Leaving it on the floor was just risking breaking it. Hopefully, it wasn’t chipped.

“Go get the cleaning products. I think mom keeps them under the sink in the bathroom. And throw my pillow into a bag or something. We’ll have to go to the laundromat later.”

Emily sighed, finally pushing herself off the ground. She still held the pillow with the tip of her fingers, very far from her body.

“Fine! I’ll keep you company later, but you’re cleaning your floor! I’m not touching anything sticky and gross.”

“It’s maple syrup. How is that gross?”

“Just saying that I don’t know what trash you’ve put on your floor and I am not scrubbing it.”

“Just go get the stuff before this leaks through the floorboard.”

Emily huffed one last time before exiting the room. While he waited, Langa could hear his mother questioning Emily. “What was that noise?” “What are you looking for?” “Did you and Langa make up?” A smile pulled on the corner of Langa’s mouth. He knew his mother would ask questions and that was the only reason he had sent Emily to fetch the cleaning products. He knew if he had gone himself, then he would have had a thousand questions to answer which he absolutely did not want to do.

[clairecrive]

“Mr Darcy” pt.2

Here it is guys! This has been highly requested and I loved the first one just as much as you did so I couldn’t really say no. However, I do think I’m better at writing angst than fluff so I’m not too sure about this one. I hope you like it nonetheless! I’ve decided to post this now as a treat for the week that it’s about to start ‘cause I’ll be hella busy and idk if I’ll be able to publish anything.

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​, @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @fandom--0verdose​, @evelynshelby​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @sopxhiea​, @fuseburner​ (let me know if you wanna be added)

Part 1

It had been a week. However, if you were to ask either of them, they would have said that it had been longer. When y/n got home that evening, for a moment she thought of how stupid the whole fight was. She could see that maybe she had overreacted a bit. She knew how Alfie could choose the worse words possible to express his feelings. Maybe that was the case and not his subconscious confirming her worst fear. For a moment she had actually thought of calling him and ask him to come back and talk it through. But then, after a look at the clock, she decided that it was best to sleep on it, clear their heads and face the problem when both of them had sorted their minds. 

There were some things though, that were better done sooner rather than later. And resolve an argument was one of them. A part of her secretly hoped for Alfie to call her or give her any sign that he wasn’t going to accept her decision. Because it had been, in fact, her decision to break up. At that moment in time, in his car with his words fresh in her mind, that had seemed the only logical thing to do. Now, days after the argument, she realized that no, of course it wasn’t. But she had been so hurt by his insinuation, it had hit too close home for her to just ignore it or think straight.

Next day came around and y/n was wondering if she had thrown everything away or if there still was a chance for her to fix things. Alfie had said that he loved her, so that meant that he wouldn’t be mad if she called him. Right? She had made such a fool of herself though. And how could she have ended things so easily between them? Like it meant nothing to her. Like it was the easiest thing to do for her. But god that couldn’t be more wrong. Saying those words had killed her. She could swear that she had lost a piece of herself that night. The piece of her heart that was forever gonna be Alfie’s.

So days went by and y/n was stuck trying to find the right words to express what she wanted to say and also to gather the courage to make the call. Alfie hadn’t called nor texted, despite her untold wish. But that shouldn’t have surprised her after all. Alfie was proudful and she was the one who ended things so he would have never made the first move. Y/n had always insisted that girls shouldn’t be afraid of making the first move when it came to guys. However, now that she was put in that position, she found that it was easier said than done.

Finally, on the fourth night after the day at the beach, she was settled. She was going to call him and ask him to come over and if he didn’t want to she was simply going to explain herself over the phone; if he didn’t even want to hear her out then at least she had tried. That wasn’t much more she could do other than try and fix things.

So she pulled out her phone and unlocked it to dial his number. She forgot though that the last time she had used it, she was wasting time on Instagram. So her IG feed was the first thing she saw when she unlocked her phone. She went to close it when a picture or rather a story caught her attention. There was a preview of the stories of some of the accounts that she followed but only one made her stop and freeze on the spot. 

Karen’s story was on display. But that’s not what bothered her. She was with a guy or well, she had posted a guy in her story. Nothing unusual for her up until this point if it wasn’t that the guy’s hand was one y/n was very familiar with. Shaking her head as if to send the thought away, she took a deep breath before opening the story.

Her heart stopped. Her breath got stuck in her lungs. 

The crown tattoo was unmistakably Alfie’s. What were the odds of Karen coming across some guy who had the same tattoo of her ex and wore the same kind of rings? 

The next story, however, tragically dissipated every doubt. 

It was Alfie indeed. He was standing behind her pulling his selfie face. Which was basically his face, just void of any expression. 

They weren’t alone. The other guys of her group of friends were there but that wasn’t comforting at all. He had gone out with the lads, so what? Y/n and Alfie had been together for a while so it was only natural that her friends became his friends too. There was nothing wrong with that. 

But why was he standing so close to her? Why had he agreed to take a selfie? She usually had to beg him to take pictures together. And why had he gone out to party when they had just broken up? He had looked genuinely broken that day, she was basing her hope to fix things solely on that. She thought that he cared about her and their relationship. But did he really, when so soon after their split up he had gone out to party? The thing was, that Alfie had always told her that he hated going to the disco. It wasn’t really dancing what they did in there and that people only got there just to find someone to screw. That’s what he used to say to her. 

Locking the phone again, she discarded it on the table while she let herself fall on the sofa. Timing was everything and she was suddenly grateful that she hadn’t called him. Otherwise, she would have looked like a fool, and he had already hurt her enough. She didn’t need to add things on her regret list.

So here she was then. Almost a week after their break up, heartbroken and desperate,  pitied by her friends that forced her to go out. If Alfie was enjoying himself, they didn’t see why she couldn’t do the same. Even if going out was the last thing y/n wanted to do, she knew that her friends meant well and that it wouldn’t hurt her to be in their company. So she agreed to the meeting and that’s why she was here in an unknown bar with them.

Half an hour in and she felt thankful that she had listened to them and gotten out and grateful for their presence in her life at the same time. However, the feeling was soon forgotten when she saw two people approaching their table. Karen had entered the bar, wearing her usual skimpy outfit with Alfie following right behind. After the night she had seen her igs she shouldn’t have been so surprised to see them together. However, she couldn’t help the pang in her heart that seeing them, him, inflicted. 

As soon as her friends spotted the couple, they made space for them closing up on her at the same time as to protect her. They moved so that Alfie and Karen would be sat at the other end of the table and if y/n didn’t turn her head to the side, she would be able to ignore their presence completely. And for the first ten minutes or so she was able to.

Then she could feel Alfie’s eyes on her from time to time and suddenly ignoring Karen’s high pitched voice was proving to be a more difficult task than she had initially thought. So when the opportunity presented herself to leave the table for a while, she greedily took it. It didn’t matter that y/n would always avoid talking with the barmen or the waitress because she’d get all uncomfortable making the exchange painfully awkward. She’d do it all the same if it meant getting away from that snake. 

After taking everybody’s order she got up and approached the counter waiting for the girl to notice her before repeating the order to her. Taking a deep breath she rested her head on her hand trying to compose herself. She and Alfie were over and since her friends were also his, she’d to learn how to deal with it without getting too bothered. 

“Hey,” Alfie interrupted her autogenic training, startling her a bit. She didn’t expect him to follow her nor to try and initiate a conversation. But she would be civil. It had been her decision after all.

“Hey,” she greeted him back, her eyes never leaving the girl that was making their drinks. She hoped she was almost done, any minute longer and this exchange was bound to get very awkward very fast.

Alfie wanted to talk to her but he didn’t know what to say. It was the first time they met after the break-up and now talking to her seemed the hardest thing to do. He knew that she wasn’t going to say anything if he didn’t. So he tried to come up with something to say.

“How are you?” Emphasis on try.

Y/n did her best to fight to urge to roll her eyes and reply with a sassy comeback, but really how could she? And since when Alfie bothered with small talk? Seemed that since they split up a lot of things changed. Or maybe they had always been like that and she hadn’t noticed before. Y/n couldn’t know that in that moment Alfie was mentally kicking himself for choosing the lamest thing to say. He absolutely abhorred small talk and so did she. But he had to make her talk someway. Deciding to not play along with him, she just turned to give him a pointed look. She had always been good at conveying her emotion with just her eyes. And Alfie knew her well enough that reading her wasn’t hard. Instead, she decided to turn the question. 

“How are you?” She tried to leave any trace of accusation from her voice but by the way Alfie shuffled on his feet, she must have failed. 

“Could be better.” Was his answer. Turns out that he had also decided to stir away from small talk. A simple “fine” wouldn’t have done. They both knew each other too well though that they could easily spot the other’s lies. And that would have been a lie. 

Despite appreciating his effort to be genuine, y/n really couldn’t help the scoff that left her mouth. She tried to cover it with a cough but when Alfie looked at her she quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” To be fair, maybe it was better if she had scoffed and turned around and nothing else. Because now the conversation was going to be uncomfortable indeed.

It was Alfie’s turn to be startled. He knew to what night she was referring to and guilt was taking over his body after he detected her tone. When he accepted the invitation he hadn’t really thought about how it could have affected her. He just took it as an opportunity to get out of the house and do something that wasn’t thinking about y/n. When he realized that Karen was going to be there, he knew that she was going to document the night. There was nothing he could do then, other than hope that you didn’t go on Instagram that night. Seemed that you had seen it though and now he was once again at loss for words.

“Speaking of-” Alfie started but y/n didn’t let him finish.

“What you do is none of my concern anymore, Alfie. I just didn’t realize you and Karen were so close. Must have gone over my head. But oh well, I’m happy to see you happy.” And with that, she completely dismissed the conversation and turned around to go back to their table. Alfie hadn’t noticed that their drinks were ready. He was standing there speechless at her insinuation and the ease with which she had just left him there. Happy? Him?

Making his way back to their table too, he was surprised to notice y/n’s absence. Turning to Mark, the closest guy to him, he inquired about her and learned that she had gone out for a breath of air. This was his occasion and he’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it. He got out of the bar and saw y/n standing close to the bar’s wall, her head lifted back on the wall, eyes closed. Alfie walked up to her and mirrored her position but didn’t speak.

“Luke, I’m fine I swear. You don’t have to stay here with me.” Y/n had felt someone approach her and settle beside her and had naturally deducted that it was Luke who had come out to check on her.

“‘snot Luke,” Alfie mumbled loud enough so that she could hear. He feared her reaction but was also put off by the fact that her mind had instinctively gone to Luke.

“What are you doing out here?” Almost alarmed, y/n promptly opened her eyes and looked at him. He was the last person she thought would come out.

“I came to check up on ya.” Alfie said almost timidly.

“Thank you but there’s no need. You can go back inside.” 

And here she was dismissing him again. Alfie couldn’t believe what they’d come to. There was a time when y/n would always be asking for more time together, would always be by his side, would always be present in some way. Now here she was, sending him away like she could hardly bear to be near him. The realisation hurt but Alfie had no one to blame other than himself. 

He didn’t listen to her. He stayed right where he was. There was nothing inside that was calling him anyway. There was nothing more important than being here with her. No other place where he’d like to be.

“Happy,” he voiced out his thoughts to no one in particular but he knew that she was listening, “you said that I’m happy,” he scoffed. “How could you ever say that?” he accusingly asked her hurt by her insinuation. 

“Well, you look fine to me. Looked like you were enjoying yourself at the club. So yeah, I assumed you were happy.” Scrolling her shoulders she explained herself not meeting his eyes. “Aren’t you?” The question came out barely audible. Y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“How could I be?” To Alfie, it was unfathomable that she could think that he was happy. They had split up for god’s sake, how could he ever be happy after that?

“It seemed that you had moved on, I don’t know.” 

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?” 

She then looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that night and well, he had a point. He looked like he hadn’t had a good night sleep in at least a week but to be fair Alfie always looked a bit dishevelled. 

Y/n could sense that if she stayed out there with him they were going to argue and she was too tired for that. She hated arguing, she absolutely despised it and it seemed like it was all they were doing. Letting out a sigh she moved off the wall and was about to get back inside when Alfie’s voice stopped her.

“We need to talk about what happened the other night.” He said but she just looked at him. Was there any point in talking about it anymore?

“Talk to me, y/n. Please.” 

“I don’t think there’s any point in discussing it anymore, Alfie.”

“Well, I fucking don’t think so, right?” Alfie was growing agitated, she could tell by the way he would grip his beard, “ we broke up and you’re telling me that there’s nothing to discuss anymore? So that’s it then? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing. If you had something to say you would have. Besides, why are you even mad, Alfie? I’m not the one who’s already involved with someone else.”

“The fuck yer on about, eh?”

“You went out with her. You came here with her, sat next to her. You took pictures with her, Alfie. I used to have to beg you for one. Funny how things change, eh?”

“There’s a whole fucking big misunderstanding here pet, right? I’m not with Karen.” He scoffed at the thought. As if. “How could I, right, when I’m still in love with you?” But y/n chose to ignore his last sentence.

“Well it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re single now, it’s bound to happen.” Saying that s-word really took it out of her but that was true. It was as if she was actually realizing it for the first time. He was single. And guys never stay single for long. She better get used to the idea of seeing Alfie with someone else, even if it wasn’t Karen.

“Stop y/n, just stop. Stop talkin like we’re fucking through and done, ‘lright? I can’t fuckin stand it.” Shaking his head, Alfie looked like he was fighting his inner demons. He looked haunted. The truth was that what he said was true. He really couldn’t bear hearing her talk about them like they were a thing of the past. 

“It’s the truth, Alfie.” She muttered because pointing that out hurt her too.

“No, ‘snot, ‘lright?” Taking a step towards her, Alfie was failing at keeping his distance from her and was ready to give in to that instinct that told him to scoop her up in his arms and never let her go. “ Please, y/n. You have to let me make this right.” He literally pleaded. Y/n had never seen Alfie so desperate. She would love nothing more than to give in and tell him that it was okay, that they were okay. But they weren’t. What happened changed the way she thought of him and she didn’t know if it was a reversible thing.

“I trusted you, Alfie. I opened up to you, I confided in you against my better judgment that told me not to trust guys anymore and look what happened.”

“I’m so, so sorry pet. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me, at least on that.”

“I thought you were someone that was never going to hurt me. But I was just being naive, I guess.”

“I screwed up y/n, okay? Don’t ya think I fuckin know that? That I’ve been kickin meself for it since it happened? I knew I had fucked it all up as soon as I opened my mouth.” Grunting as if trying to express himself was actually hurting him, Alfie took his frustration out on his soft hair. “I just- I was tryin to tell ya that I didn’t care about those things. But you know me pet, I always say the wrong thing.” 

“That’s one way of saying it.” She agreed scoffing.

“Luke probably has chosen better words, I’m fuckin sure of it, but I don’t see why his were okay and mine were not.”

“What does Luke have to do with this?”

“Well, Karen told me that you was worryin yerself about yer imperfections. Well, what you think are imperfections ‘cause I ain’t never thought of ‘em like that, right? So I was trying to be a loving boyfriend, helpin ya and whatnot. Totally screwed up though, ‘aven’t I?”

“Wait. Karen told you that?” He nodded.

“Since when you and her have been talking? I thought you just said hi to each other.”

“We did, yeah. Was as surprised as yer when she spoke to me that day.” Nodding, y/n processed the information Alfie just provided her with. Karen. Of course it was her fault. Saying all that nonsense only to sink her claws in him when they broke up. Of course. How could she hadn’t thought about it? It was obvious.

“I should have known.” Y/n snickered with mirth shaking her head. Everything was falling into place and it all made sense now. Karen had used Alfie’s jealousy to drive them apart. And she had so foolishly let her. God, what a bitch. But Alfie’s was only more confused by her snicker.

“Why did you listen to her, Alfie?” She then addressed him.

“Well, she meant good didn’t she?” Oh, Alfie…

“Karen? Please, Alfie, she’s a bitch. And she has set her eyes on you since the first time I introduced you to everyone.” She explained and was surprised to see his confused expression, guys could be so clueless… “I can’t believe that she had almost got away with this.”

“Wait- so she’s not your friend?”

“Of course not Alfie! Have you never noticed how none of the girls actually spend time with her? ‘Cause she’s a back-stabbing, two-faced witch. It’s not the first time she does something like this.” The more she thought about it, the angrier y/n became. She had half a mind to go back inside and gave Karen a piece of her mind. 

“Fuck.” But she and Alfie weren’t done.

“So, you’re telling me that this all happened because of a bitch that manoeuvred you like a puppet with your jealousy?” Y/n was trying to figure this situation out. This new change of events left her at a crossroad. Could she really be that mad at Alfie for being completely clueless that she would stay broken up?

“Well, if ya put it like that…” he started but she interrupted him with a gesture of her hand.

“Don’t you trust me, Alfie?” 

“I do pet, I do. It’s just- you gotta understand that sometimes, yeah, I say things I don’t really mean or act on instinct because I’m a fuckin beast, ain’t I?” His complete honesty and just the way he gesticulated when he spoke made y/n snort. She tried to cover the sound given that the situation wasn’t exactly comical however her attempt totally failed when she saw Alfie insecure smile. She had missed him so much. 

A noise coming from the pub doors caught her attention and she noticed that it was Karen that was coming out. No doubt to check on Alfie. A primal urge came over her to assert her name on him. As if to send a huge middle finger to her who wanted to take what was hers. For once in her life, y/n made a split-second decision. In front of her there was Alfie, the guy she was in love with and here she was coming, someone who wanted to take him away. She couldn’t let that happen. She won’t go down without a fight. She had already made things too easy for her. Enough.

Without further thinking about it, she closed the space that kept them apart and kissed him after taking his face in her hands. Feeling his lips on hers after so long felt amazing, she wasn’t sure how she could describe it. Maybe like when you taste chocolate again after months of being on a strict diet. 

The kiss made them both remember what they had been missing on, this past week. Not that they weren’t already aware of that but sometimes the routine could make you take things for granted. Before that day at the beach, y/n didn’t realize how much she mindlessly counted on their kisses. As a greeting, as a way to say thank you, as a way to initiate something more. It was natural, almost obvious. Until it wasn’t there anymore and it felt like she had lost an arm.

As the initial shock left Alfie’s body, the kiss grew more desperate for both of them. His hands immediately went to her body, holding her close, afraid that if he let her go she would fade away. Their hands caressed and gripped even when the kiss came to a natural end. Even then, they didn’t pull apart. Their lips brushed again each other as they breathed heavily, their foreheads and noses touching. They had been apart for too long that now they couldn’t physically allow the other to be even one foot away from them.

And just like that, Karen was pushed out of their minds. There was only their other half in this moment. It was a matter of priorities. Their breath settled down and they found that neither of them could stop smiling. 

“So,” Alfie started quietly clearing his voice, “this means we’re good?”

“So you were really saying the truth all those times you said you didn’t mind them?” Maybe it was stupid but she asked just to be sure. He knew what she was referring to.

“I never cared for ‘em, love.” He promised, gently rubbing their noses together making her smile. Having received the answer she needed, she nodded to reply to his previous question. 

“Say it. I need to hear you say it.” He insisted.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, mate.” And she complied. Grinning like a fool, Alfie couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He attacked her lips like a famished man. He just wanted to get lost in her. They had to make up for the lost time after all.

[purplekiwis]

“From the Dining Table” - Chapter I

Hello everyone, I’ve been enjoying reading your fics a lot, especially now with the whole quarentine thing, they never fail to bring me joy. I thought it would be fun to start writing some myself and that’s why I created this blog. I haven’t written a fic in over 10 years ( I promise I’m not that old, I was just a very imaginative child.) Anyway, I wrote this one based of a dream I had and then I realized it reminded me a lot of Harry’s song, so I just kept on going with the theme. This is a pretty long one, it’s going to be 3 Chapters. Today I’m gonna post the first one, I hope you (whoever you are that’s reading this) enjoy it and I would be super happy to get any feedback from you.❤️

You can read Chapter II here You can read Chapter III here Word Count: 8k Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Sexual References

Summary: Friends to Lovers; Y/N is a graphic designer working at a small studio in London. She lives a pretty ordinary life, considering she also happens to be friends with an internationally known musician. Which is fine... Until she finds herself having to face the feelings she developed for her friend, who's the last person she expected to fall in love with.

Chapter I - The House Party

Today was just another typical Saturday for you. You had just got out of the shower and dressed in your “sleeping clothes” - an old t-Shirt and a pair of incredibly worn out leggings, and cooked something quick for dinner, since all the plans you had for the evening, and for the rest of the weekend were to lay around the house watching movies from your watch-list and trying to keep up with the episodes of your favorite series you had missed out during the week.              

However, as you were browsing through your computer, trying to figure out what Riverdale episode you hadn’t watched yet, your phone vibrated on the bedside table. You let your head fall in your hands with a weary expression, fearing that it might be one of your clients asking for changes in the work you had just delivered 2 hours ago.     You tried your hardest to ignore it, for you had already decided that you were going to save the rest of the afternoon for taking care of yourself... which was a great accomplishment since you gradually and accidentally had become a bit of a workaholic.  

It wasn’t something you were proud of... but you were a proper adult now and that’s just how adultwood is. Suddenly all your friends were busy with their families (can’t relate), their partners (no, can’t relate either) and their jobs (yes, you had one of those now) and you didn’t have much else to keep you entertained, so at least you tried to do something productive with your time.            

Okay, maybe it was possible that you were focusing on work to try not to think about how lonely you actually felt... Especially when you found yourself rubbing your own aching back after spending the whole afternoon sitting at your desk immersed in your work. Secretly wishing somebody else was there with you besides the faces painted in the unfinished artworks laying around your flat... that were yet to be amazing pieces of art one day, according to you.

The only problem was that you couldn’t manage to get yourself to actually finish them, or even to work on them for a couple of hours. Why? You didn’t really know.  

All you knew was that there was no motivaton within you to focus on the things you had once really enjoyed doing. Maybe you were too tired to have a hobby, maybe you were already over those artworks, perhaps you didn’t even like painting anymore...          

The only thing that you knew for sure of was that you had became exactly who you said you would never: A young adult working for a small company with barely any social life, let alone a stable relationship, sharing a tiny apartment with her cat and the ghosts of her past dreams and aspirations.      So I guess by now it’s safe to say that you were definitely focusing on your work to forget about how boring your life had become in the last few months...      Even thought you really didn’t want to look at your phone, your curiosity got a hold of you and you checked it… Only to find a text from your friend Harry. Seeing his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat, as you rolled around in bed so that you could take a better look at it. It had been a while since you spoke to Harry... mostly because he had been busy, and you had been trying to avoid bothering him. Knowing damn well he would probably much rather spend his free time doing something better with his free time, since he was always busy as a bee, jumping between countries and cities whilst working on several projects simultaneously.      

You considered Harry a close friend of yours... even if you didn’t talk all the time and even ghosted each other for months on occasion, until one of you broke the silence with a text or a phone call. This time, it was Harry that texted you first...      

HS: What are you up to?            

You: I was just about to watch Riverdale...          

H.S:  What is that?   

You couldn’t help but to let out a little smile. Sometimes he could still surprise you with how alienated he could be from mundane stuff. You didn’t hold it against him, you knew he had a preference for oldies when it came to the movies and music he actually payed attention to.          

You decided not to bug him about it, since you were far more interested in figuring out why he was randomly texting you at 9PM on a Saturday.          

You : It’s just a gross teen show. What about you?          

H.S: Aren’t you a bit too old for teen shows? I’m home. Been here for a couple of days, actually.

You felt a little hurt knowing that he had been home for a while and was only letting you know now, since you were usually one of the first people he wanted to see after spending long periods of time away, even if it was just to come watch the telly and catch up over bags of take-away food. You shook off the uneasy feeling. After all it wasn’t like he owed you his free time... For all you knew, he could’ve been catching up with his other friends or even have someone far more entertaining over his house.  

You : Aren’t you a bit too young to be such a grandpa?

H.S : Good news is that grandpa might actually have better plans for your night.            

You felt your cheeks warm as a fuzzy feeling started in your stomach. You noticed you had been smiling at your phone whilst thinking of what his plans could be, and when you finally got back to reality your cat was blankely staring at you, making you feel aware of how stupid you must have been looking. “What? You know it’s not like that!” You exclaimed to your cat, getting a little embarassed by your own mushy thoughts.            

Before you could answer his text he sent you another one.        

H.S: Would you like to accompany me to this thing i have?        You sat straight in your bed, but almost immidiately got up to check yourself in the mirror. Yikes, you thought. There’s no way i’m going anywhere with a face like this... In the deepest, darkest part of your brain, you added: Especially not with him.             You: What thing?

H.S: It’s just a boring house party. Please come!!! I need someone to talk to.   

You: If you want to convince me, maybe you should consider rethinking your use of adjectives. I’m sure you do... just like all the other parties, right? 🙄         

H.S: Sorry, I meant AMAZING party!!! 😊  Also, it’s not my fault everyone likes to talk to me.     You : It is. You’re too nice to them.                     

H.S: That’s why i need you to scare them away with your moody face! Are you coming? I already asked Claire to save you seat in the car.          

You looked at yourself in the mirror, kinda wishing you had known earlier because you really looked and felt too tired (and ugly, might you add) to get out of the house. Especially to go to a party where you probably knew like, 3 people in real life besides Harry. Besides, you already knew that you would feel a bit out of place there...   Because no matter how hard Harry and his friends tried to make you feel included, there was always this feeling you felt... Like everyone else was judging every single thing you did. The clothes you were wearing, the way you acted with your friends, how much booze you drinked, how many crab cakes you ate, and even how much you talked, or didn’t talk... Going to these parties had undoubtedly showed you how cold and indifferent people could be about other people’s complete existence as soon as they realized they didn’t come from the entertainment industry...           Harry had tried to explain to you that they didn’t flat out dislike you... It was just that they liked to test the waters before jumping into a friendship with someone from outside the industry, since most of them had already been through bad experiences when it came to that topic.

Y/N had never really ate that one up, but she decided it wasn’t worth the fuss of sharing her opinion out loud. She still remebered the first event she attended to with Harry, and how he and his friends had tried to give her advise on what she should and shouldn’t do... Something she hadn’t taken very well at the time, because it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to behave herself at a party just for being considered an “outsider”. She had been to lots of parties. Smaller ones, yes. With cheaper beverage options and far unhealthier selections of finger foods she could nibble guiltlessly on, but they were still parties nonetheless...          

Luckily for you, people were starting to get used to your occasional presence at their informal house events, and you managed to get along with the majority of Harry’s mates as well, what made you feel a little more confortable... However you still always got a bit nervous before going, especially when you hadn’t seen everyone in a while, which was the case that time around...

You : I feel like i could fall asleep at any given moment, so i think i’ll have to pass this one out 😔 but maybe tomorrow we could do something?      

He took a while to reply, making you wonder if he got upset at you for not wanting to go, or if he was already asking another one of his friends if they would like to go in your place... You didn’t know what option you liked the best.    Eventually, you got tired of holding your phone so you put it down, a little too harshly, what made your cat tremble with the noise. “Sorry Tilly.” You whispered, as your pet got up and curled up in your lap, while you petted her gently behind her ears. “Maybe it’s better this way… right?” You asked, mostly to yourself.         

Suddently you heard your phone ringing. Harry was calling you. You got up in a jump and grabbed the phone, what led to an unpleasant scratch from Tilly in your thigh. Before picking up, you stared at the screen for a few seconds, just so he didn’t think you were impatiently waiting for his reply. Yes, you were petty like that sometimes.              

“Hey!”               

“Hello loser!” The raspyness of his voice caught you by surprise, making you shiver. You’d almost forgot how good it sounded.      

“No one uses that word anymore.”      

“Who cares?” “Good point. Hm, listen… I hope you’re not mad at me for not going...”       “What? You really thought I was gonna give up on you that easily?”     “Oh, stop it! I’m not going! Besides, even if I wanted to go, what would I wear? I literally have like ze-” You stopped your rambling, realizing he was singing something to you over the phone, you didn’t recognize it at first, but then you realized where it was from.     

“You're a mean one Mr. Grinch.               You really are a heeeel…               You're as cuddly as a cactus!       You're as charming as an eel! Mr. Griiiinch… You're a bad banana with a… Greasy black peeeeel!”      

It was a song from the last movie you had seen together when he had came home for the holidays. How The Grinch Stole Christmas. He was singing it to mock you by your choice of words, that reminded him of a particular scene of the movie. The way he was messing up the song with his gibberish made you laugh. Eventually both your laughs and his singing faded, leaving you with a huge smile on your face. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” You asked.           

“Well, thank you. Now... As a way of thanking me for my… astonishing performace, you must come party with us.”        

“You’ve got some nerve coming at me with that crap after you’ve abandoned me for... how long was it again? two months?”

“Hey... I’m trying to redeem myself here!”             “Good! As you should.”            

“Is that a yes? Please...? You’re not going to say no to me, are you?”   

“It’s a maybe... a highy dependant on me finding something to wear type of maybe. First of all, is it like…fancy?”      

“Hmm, not really… I think!? You never really know with these parties.”              

“Trust me, I’m aware.” There was a brief silent pause on Harry’s side of the phone, as you as you rummaged through your clothes. “What are you going to wear anyway?”  

“Don’t know yet. Probably like, some pants… boots… and a shirt?”         Harry’s vague description didn't help whatsoever, but you were far too busy trying to disenchant a decent outfit to make light of his words. “Okay!” There was a lot of shuffling from your side, making his eyebrows furrow on the other side the line, despite your lack of knowledge. “I think I may have just found my nice pants, but I don’t know if I have a nice blouse that goes with them... or one that is fitted for the occasion. Why am I so boring with my clothes? I need to invest in a better wardrobe asap…” “You can always come by mine and borrow a shirt… Ya know, If you don’t want to stand out too much.”

“Not standing out by wearing your clothes? Now that’s funny!”               “I’m sure you’ll find something wearable...”      

“Are you serious? You would let me borrow your clothes?”        

“Sure. If you want to.”  

“I don’t know… I’m scared I’ll rip them or something.”                       

“I mean, I like my clothes... but it’s not like I would kill you or myself if something bad happened to them.” “You’re so humble and reasonable Mr. Styles… How did you stay like that?” You could hear him briefelly laugh at your provocation. “I’m serious! besides, I secretly always want to know how my clothes fit on different people.”

“I’m not trying to spoil it for you but probably not that good... Mostly because I’m female shaped so they won’t fit me properly… Also, I’m not sure if you’re aware but you have this gift-”     “Oh, shut up! You can pull anything off.” He cut you off before you could either compliment him or put yourself down. “As long as you love it.” “We’ll see about that.” You challenged, noticeably way less hopeful than he was. “I’ll see you in… an hour and half? Is that a good time?”             

“Do you want me to ask someone to pick you up?”               “I’m good, thank you...” You answered, wasting little time mulling over your friend’s proposal. “But I would happily accept a parking spot in your garage…” You added suggestively, knowing he wouldn’t say no. “Sure! Anything for you.”           “Thank you!”   “You’re very welcome.”               “Okay, well... I better go and get ready now or I’m going to show up late.”   “Alright, I need to go get ready as well. See you soon. Drive safe!”           “Always do.” It took you a bit more than na hour to get ready, what meant you were already running a little late, since Harry’s house was more than half an hour drive away.  

You were wearing one of your favorite “going out” pants, they were black, high-waisted, carrot fitted and overwhelmingly confortable. You went for other one of your favorite pieces - a yellow silk blouse, just in case you ended up not fitting properly in any of Harry’s shirts.

You paired your outfit with oval style ankle boots you’d just recently acquired. I already know I’m going to regret this decision, you thought whilst putting them on.            

You had also decided to change into a matching set of lingerie just because you never know what can happen, right? and also partially because you knew you’d be changing at Harry’s, and god forbid he actually saw anything but if he did, at least it wouldn’t be your granny underwear. You put on a neutral makeup look, throwing a couple of lipsticks into your purse, just so you could decide which one to wear depending on the color of the shirt.             Finally, you put on a bit of perfume and grabbed your jacket, taking a final look in the mirror, staring at yourself from different angles. “I guess that’s about as good as it’s gonna get.” You mumbled to your reflection.           

Before leaving the house, you kissed and petted your cat goodbye, however she didn’t respond to your affection since she was already asleep on top of the clothes you had just carelessly thrown on top of the bed.      

You got in your car and drove off, thirty four minutes later you were turning into Harry’s street and stopping the car in front of the condominium’s gate.You took your phone out of your purse and rang him, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re here?” “Yeah, I’m already at the gate.”               “Okay, let me open it for you and I’ll be down in a second.”         “Okay, thank you.” The call dropped and the large metal gate started to move, you slowly drove your way into the condo, trying to remember where the entrance to his garage was.          

You didn’t have to think too hard, because a few seconds later one of the garage doors started to open and you could see a pair of impecable black leather boots that merged with the bottom of burgundy flares. Yup, no need for more searching, You thought.          

You stopped the car, waiting for the gate to fully open for what seemed like an eternity, but it gave you time to fully appreciate the man that was slowly revealing himself in front of you.

You could start to see his top half now, he was wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, uncovering his tattooed arms. The top buttons were undone, exposing the cross necklace he always wore, he was also wearing another necklace you hadn’t seen before, his hands were hidden in his pockets, but you already knew that they would be adorned with multiple rings of all shapes and sizes. What a show off, was the tought that came to mind once his whole outfit was revealed, but you had to admit that you wouldn’t have him any other way...   

Finally his head showed up, and he was wearing a big smile on his face.

“Hey you! Better hurry up before this thing closes on you.” You were so lost in his smile that you accidentally let your car die, but you were quick to start it again and as he walked aside you pulled into the garage.           

When you finished parking, you got out of the car, being immediately greeted by Harry’s arms that wrapped you in a tight hug. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes to fully enjoy the moment. He smelled like his characteristic cologne, but since your head was pressed against his shoulder, you could also smell the fabric softner on his shirt and his deodorant.  

“You smell nice.” You mumbled under your breath.   “So do you.” He replied swiftly, resting his chin on the top of your head.          He walked you to the elevator and you went up to his apartment. After many minutes of catching up in the living room he led you to his bedroom, where his closet was. “It’s a bit messy in here, I’ve been meaning to organize it, but I haven’t really had the time.” The boy said before opening its door.

You tried not to look mesmerized by the amount of clothing in front of you, because you knew that one of the things Harry hated the most was when people perceived him as shallow or vain. Luckily, most people could tell straight away that his love for fashion had a greater meaning for him than to just look nice... And even when they didn’t, it only took them about seconds of conversation with him to realize how much of a ducky and kind person he truly was. Also, fairly recently he had been getting a lot of praise for his bold fashion choices, what led to a bit of over enthusiasm from his main stylists’s part and himself when it came to investing in it.  

“I promise I actually wear most of these...” He justified himself, noticing the enthralled expression you genuinely believed you were managing to disguise.

“Oh, don’t mind me!” You giggled. “I’m just slightly overwhelmed by the number of choices before me.”         “Well, take all the time you need.” Harry smiled, sitting over the edge of his bed and unlocking his phone to check the time. It was already past midnight.  As you finally gained courage to start going through his clothes, he let his back fall on the bedspread with a sigh and stared at the ceiling, and that’s when you decided you couldn’t possibly not try to mess with him a little bit. “Stupid… Ugly… Out of date…” (Reference (01:20-01:24)              

“Hey! Stop it, will you?!” He sat up again, supporting his upper body with his elbows that rested firmly on his lap. “Have you found my dress yet?” 

You peeked through the open closet to with a curious expression on your face. “No… Where is it?” you asked, disappearing behind the door and enthusiastically searching his closet for the item, suddently grabbing something that kinda looked like a dress, yet kinda looked like a curtain.           “Is this it?” You asked, stepping out of the closet, holding the hanger in front of you.               

“It’s not a dress, it’s a kilt... Sicko!”  (Reference (01:13-01:18)          

“Really? You had that one coming for a long time didn’t you?” You disdainfully smiled, shaking your head in disapproval. You could tell from his little smirk that he was proud of successfully tricking you into his joke. “Yeah, I was hoping you would find it and ask about it, but you didn’t so I had to find a way to deliver the line anyway.”            

“Okay, but for real why do you have a wedding dress in your closet?” You turned the hanger to see the strange garment from the front.            

“Cause I’m cool like that.”        

“You know what? It’s actually not as ugly as it seemed at first sight...”    

“Well, I would hope so ‘cause it was bloody expensive.” At the sound of his words you were quick to carefully hang it back in it’s place, gently rubbing the fabric to avoid any crinkles.

You kept looking through his clothes and ended up finding a almost sheer shirt that you liked. It was rusty orange with a psychadelic flower pattern that looked quite unique. Taking advantage of the fact that Harry was laying down and distracted on his phone and freed yourself of your blouse in a swift motion, trying on his shirt on as fast as you could. It fitted you quite nicely to your surprise.               “So, have you found anything you like yet?” Your friend asked, with his eyes still stuck on his phone.

“Actually yes, but I could use your help… How would you style this?”  He sat up again and focused his attention on you. “How come you end up finding the one shirt I don’t actually remember owning?” 

He admired you from the bed, letting is head fall to the side a bit, you could feel his eyes stuck on your figure, what made you feel a bit unconfortable and insecure about your body. His expression changed as he got up and walked towards you, making a little circle around you and finally stopping right in front of you. “May I?” He asked, reaching for the shirt.        

“Yeah, go ahead.” You lifted your arms slightly so they wouldn’t get on his way. Carefully, he started adjusting the shirt, slipping it inside your pants and gently pulling it out, until it fell down in a natural way.      

You could feel the warmth of his hands on your skin through the fabric, what caused your breathing to get a little heavy and out of your throat came a peculiar husky sound. Luckily, he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even acknowledged it.    

Feeling a bit flustered due to his proximity, you decided to break the silence.     “You look so different now that you cut your hair…”      

“Well, isn’t that kind of the point of changing your hair? Why are you complaining? Do you not find me cute anymore?”  “Who lied to you and told you I ever thought you were cute?” Harry looked up at you with disdainful expression once his green eyes met yours. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer by the second. “Well you’re wrong because I am, in fact, very attractive.” He looked down again and undid one of the buttons of the shirt, what left a bit of the black lace of your bra showing. “What are you doing?” You asked in a startled tone. “Just trust me.”               “Umm… Fine, I guess.” You shrugged as he stepped back to admire his work. His focused expression broke into a proud smile as he moved to the side, uncovering the mirror just so you could see yourself. You looked hot, there’s no other way to put it. The color of the shirt complimented your skin tone beautifully, as well as the golden necklace that fell over your chest in a sensual way, capturing attention to your stripped neckline. “You look cuter than me, I can't have that... Come on, we’re switching. Take it off, now.”  Your handsome friend complained in a frisky tone, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as if he was about to pull it off. “I could never…” You challenged, feeling quite shy after his compliment. “Well, apparently you can.” “You look amazing though...” You complimented back. “Love the pants.” “Really? I think they make my ass look weird sometimes.” The boy confessed, turning around so you could check his bottoms. “I think your ass’s great.” You kind of regretted the conviction you uttered that sentence with. “I mean… in those pants.”

Harry sighed playfully. “I was enjoying the compliment, why did you have to ruin it?” 

“Fine, you can take the compliment then.” You granted easily. “Shouldn’t we get going? I’m sure it’s pretty late already…” “Ready?”           “Yes, let me just…” You ran to your purse, picking one of the lipsticks you had brought with you, applying it in front of the mirror while the charming man shoved his essential belongings into the pockets of his matching blazer and put it on, completing the look.       You noticed he was observing you with curiosity as you tinted your lips in a dark shade of brick orange. “Let’s go missy.” The boy rushed as you locked eyes with him through the mirror.   **

Even though you offered to drive to Claire’s house, he insisted on taking his car because he hadn’t driven in a while and wanted to before he got “rusty”.  As he was driving, you inquired him about who was hosting the party you were going to, since all he’d told you was that you were meeting your friends at Clare’s house and from there you would share a car, so that the whole group would get there together.          

To your surprise, when faced with your question he got quiet and you noticed his expression changing, he briefely took his eyes off the road to look at you and you could practically see the guilt in this face. “What is it?” You asked, wondering what he could be acting so weird about.  

“Hum yeah, about that…” He began to stammer, keeping his eyes stuck to the road.          

“Just tell me it’s not what I think it is.”    “Before you say anything, I know you’ll probably want to kill me right now…”   “Harry!”         “I knew you wouldn’t have come if I told you... It’s going to be fun, I promise! She’s not as bad as you think she is.”         “No Harry!” You fretted. “You know what? Just stop the car, I want to go home.”         

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”  

“I’m not kidding Harry.”               “I’m not dropping you off in the middle of the fucking freeway.”              

“Yes you are!” “No, I’m not.”   He kept driving and you let your body slip through the seat, crossing your arms in silence, resenting him for almost five minutes while he tried to convince you of how Alexa was way nicer than you thought and that she wasn’t really a bitch, it was just that her sense of humor could be a little off-putting sometimes. The way he was defending her made you feel even angrier, even though you weren’t really listening.               

In your head all you could think about was all the times you had the unpleasant surprise of bumping into Alexa. She was such a bitch! Always finding a way to put you down and make you feel embarassed. She even came up with a stupid nickname for you at Harry’s birthday party that she always made sure to use, even though she must’ve known you hated it.       “Just so you know, when we get to Claire’s I’m getting a cab and going home.” 

“Fine.” He jerked his shoulders dismissively. “If you want to miss out on a great time with our friends, it’s up to you.”             “When she’s there it’s never really a good time for me so I guess I’m good.”       “Come on…” Harry huffed, shifting his gaze off to road for a moment to check on his muddled friend. “Everyone was so excited to see you...”             You were mad that he lied to you, but you were madder that you had gotten all dressed up and now you weren’t going. You also missed your mutual friends and hanging out with them. You kept weighting the pros and the cons throughout the rest of the drive, and when you got to Claire’s house, after a little convincing from the group, you decided you were not going to let the fact that it was Alexa’s party ruin the night for you.        

You were still mad at Harry though. And having to go on another car trip with him, feeling his body pressing up against yours whenever there was a turnabout, wasn’t making it easy for you to keep your cool.              

As you finally got to Alexa’s house you could tell the house was packed by the number of cars parked outside, making you feel relieved you had a driver, because if you had to find a place to park it would’ve been a nightmare.        

There was a group of people lining up, and as you got closer you noticed two men by the door checking for the guests names on a list. You started to get worried that your friends might have omitted to Alexa that you were going, since you were almost certain that your presence wouldn’t please her any better than it did to you. You eyed their faces, looking for any sign of concern, however they seemed calm.

As you walked the line, you started to get more and more nervous, ending up momentarily swallowing your pride and pulling at Harry’s sleeve, in hopes of getting his attention without the rest of the group noticing. “Does Alexa know I’m coming to her party?” You asked as quietly as you could.    

“Of course she does! I told her myself.”

“What did she say?”    

He didn’t get to answer your question because he was approached by the doorkeeper, that asked him for his name. Harry politely greeted him before answering his question and being such a gentleman, he provided the names of the other members of the group.

The doorkeeper checked the names on the list and to your surprise your name was actually there. He allowed the group to get inside. All of you murmuring a brief “thank you” as you walked past the big guy.              

The door led to a giant lounge style living room, that seemed to be where the focus of the party was. To your right, there were three big windows, each with it’s own balcony, where small groups of people gathered to enjoy a smoke and the beautiful view of the city. In the middle of the room there was an open dance space, demarked by an enormous persian carpet, that was still pretty empty despite the fact the DJ was already playing.        

Behind the dance area there were two long tables, practically stuffed with different types of alcoholic beverages. It had to be one of the most diverse open bars you had ever seen at a house party.          From the ceiling fell party ribbons and lights, and the walls were adorned with baloons and paper decorations. You tried to decipher the color of the objects around you, but it was almost impossible due to the color changing lights that provided an hallucinogenic athmosphere to the space.

You looked around, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. As your eyes scanned the place, they found couple of familiar faces, but they froze at a well-known face in the kitchen.        

There was Alexa… She was sitting over the counter, scrolling on her phone. Her glossy lips rested on the edge of the paper cup she was holding. The light from the screen illuminated her face, making her glittery eyeshadow pop behind the thick lashes that she was wearing. She was dressed in a two-toned metallic mini dress and knee-high platform boots. You could tell from her expression that she was distressed about something. Her stillness gave you the opportunity to study her face. Her features were quite angelical, something you had never noticed before.

The sound of something scattering on the kitchen floor woke her up from her daydream as she turned around to curse at whoever opened the kitchen cabinet. Yup, there’s the bitch, You mused to yourself.            

She jumped off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, making her way around the groups of people that were chattering by the door. She walked around the living room, trying to greet the people she hadn’t seen yet.

Your eyes briefly met hers before she approached your friends. They went for a group hug, in which you didn’t participate. Instead, you awkwardly stared at them while they hugged and chatted. Harry looked back at you, encouraging you to join them with an eye motion, you let out a sigh and moved closer to the group, what caught Alexa’s attention. “Hi Nutmeg! I haven’t seen you in a hot minute…” She greeted you by kissing the air next to your cheek, before looking you up and down. “I see you’ve upgraded your closet... It was about time.” The beautiful girl remarked, focusing her attention on the shirt you were wearing.        

You found yourself side-eyeing Harry, trying your hardest to ignore her taunting words. “I swear I’ve seen that somewhere... what brand is it?” Her question startled you. Prompting your head to tilt towards Harry, realizing he had mirrored the gesture to stare at you. You stood there staring at each other, both of you wishing you could read his mind. “Is there something I’m missing?” Alexa questioned, suspicious of your odd behaviour.          

“No, not at all!” Harry was quick to intervene. “I’m gonna go for a drink, anyone wants to join me?” He suggested, clearly attempting to brush off the topic.        

“I’ll go get the drinks.” You volunteered, taking the chance to escape and ditch Alexa’s question.

“Will you get me some jack and coke?” The girl requested, handing you her freshly empty cup. “Thanks.” She added when you grabbed it from her hand. It was probably the only time you actually felt pleased to fix Alexa a drink. “Harry, what do you want?” You called his attention back to you, upon realizing he was already engaged into conversation with someone you didn’t know.            

“Double Tequila, please.” You raised your brows at his choice of beverage. Already knowing that when he started the night with Tequila he would, most likely, end up drunk out of his mind. But you didn’t bother to try to coarce him into switching to something else. “Do you need an extra hand?” He offered out of politeness.        

“It’s fine, I’m sure I can handle it.” You spat as you left, not wanting to interrupt his conversation again.   

As the night went on, people started to gather mainly around the dance space, that was proving itself to be a little too small for the large amount of people using it. You were having a good time, but you were definitely not enjoying the feeling of getting rubbed all over by everyone around you. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered whatsoever. And as you predicted, he was already pretty out of it, prancing around the place and carelessly engaging into conversation with everyone who approached him, including people you knew he shit talked behind their back... The fake little bitch...       

You tried not to care, but you couldn’t keep yourself from constantly checking on him to see what he was up to. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.. What wasn’t unnusual, since he was such a natural attention-grabber. Howbeit, there were several girls and boys that were practically drooling at the sight of him. That wasn’t new either, but it didn’t make it any less annoying...        

When the boy finally made his way back to the group, he tried to convince you to dance with him by grabbing your hand and making you spin for him. You graciously brushed him off. Mostly out of shyness, persuading him into asking your friend John instead. He agreed on the spot... And once he finally managed to get his friend to bend at his will, they got everyone laughing and cheering, encouraging them to keep up with the tango dance moves. But it wasn’t long until the two boys had enough of the attention, laughing it off and joining the group again.          

Then a figure rose above the crowd. It was Alexa, who has just stood up on a table holding a microphone in her hand that she was slowly tapping on, attempting to grab everyone’s attention. “Hello, hello, hello my magnificent friends. How is everyone feeling tonight?” She asked, earning a loud cheer from the crowd, that she encouraged by clapping silently before speaking again. “Alright, alright... can y’all can shut the fuck up now? …I just wanted to say that I hope everyone is getting drunk and having a great time. You know me, I gotta be real with you… There are some people here I’d much rather had stayed home, but you know what? You don’t really bother me.” The girl shrugged haughtily. “With that said, I’d like to propose a toast to every single one of you motherfuckers that came to my party. Cheers, bitches!” She yelled the last two words, emptying her cup in a single swig while the crowd cheered and downed their own cups along with the host.

The fact that Alexa let you in had given you the impression that maybe Harry was right about her, but her speech left a bad taste in your mouth and made you wonder if you were one of the people she was talking about, you were almost certain you were. “What did you say earlier about her being a nice person?” You ironically asked Harry, that was standing right beside you.        

Your eyes were still stuck on her as you wondered if she would manage to get down from the table without falling. You secretly hoped she wouldn’t.            

He failed to answer your question, so you turned to him. Only to realize that he wasn’t there anymore. Your eyes quickly danced around the room, searching for your missing friend, and unfortunatly it wasn’t long until they found him...  

Your whole body went cold, feeling your heart sink in your chest. Your vision felt blurry, and there was a complicated knot forming at the tip of your stomach. There he was. Barely six feet away from you. With his back flush against a wall and his lips pressed harshly on somebody else’s. His hands gently caressed up the other boy’s back, that had his hands firmly clutched onto your friend’s hair and the back of his neck.            

You felt like your whole world was crashing down in front of you.            

Whilst everyone around you was enjoying themselves, all you wanted to do was collapse to your knees and scream your confusing pain away, but you couldn’t. There was nothing you could do and it just fucking hurt.            

You’d always known it would eventually happen... But nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling of watching the person you love fondling somebody else.    

In the middle of your agony, you noticed a pair of hazel eyes staring right at you from distance, breaking your attention from the heartbreaking scene. “Yo... What the fuck?!” You couldn’t hear her words, but you could read them clearly through the motion of her lips. She looked completely baffled by the state of you.

You stepped back, attempting your best to muffle into the crowd, but it was too late... You were certain she’d saw the devastated look on your face, and the glistening tear that rolled down your cheek afterwards.

You turned your back on the scene and pushed through the crowd, hidding your face as you stumbled upon almost everyone on your way to the bathroom. You locked yourself inside and leaned against the door, finally letting it all out as you sobbed uncontrollably and allowed for your body to slide down the surface, until your knees met the cold marble floor.    

A unexpected loud banging on the door startled you. “It’s occupied.” Y/N shouted, in the most composed voice she could fabricate.  

“It’s Alexa... open the door.” The girl shouted back impatiently.    

“Fuck off Alexa!” You could feel your blood boil and your hands trembling at the mere sound of her voice. “Just leave me alone, will you?”

There was silence for a moment, before she banged on the door harder. You tried to ignore it because considering your state, at the slighest provocation you’d probably lose it and punch her in the face. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, I’m here to help.” Alexa shouted again, but it was pointless. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll have to ask someone to kick the door down...”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”          

“It’s my house. What are you going to do about it?” She challenged, knowing you couldn’t fight her on that. “You have three seconds… one...two…” You flang the door open before she could finish her countdown, causing her to tremble ever so slightly. “Quite the charm, aren’t you?” She sighed satirically, making her way inside the bathroom while fixing her dress. You noticed she was holding a bottle of Bacardi rum, that she promptly opened and handed to you. You stood there perplexedly looking at her, trying to figure out what her intentions were. “Are you going to take it or not?” At that, you abruptly grabbed the bottle from her hand and took it to your lips, taking a big chug and giving it back with a disgusted expression caused by the intense alcohol sting. Alexa took the bottle to her lips as well, but unlike you, her face didn’t even flinch. “What did you come here for?” The sharpness of your tone led her into giving you a dirty look “What do you think? That I came in here to make fun of you?”            

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”     “Just thought you could use a friend...” She explained, jumping on her bum to sit on the countertop. “And luckily for you, so do I.”  

“Judging by the number of people outside, I’m sure you have plenty of friends.”  

She let out a silent wheeze at your guess. “Everything isn’t always what it seems, Nutmeg… I have people that keep me company, but when it comes down to the real shit, I have no one I can count with really…”        

“I’m finding that quite hard to believe if I’m honest…”               “I know you are. So is everyone else. They all assume my life is just perfect. After all, I have everything, don’t I? I don’t blame them... I know I can be cruel and bitter sometimes, but I’m not the cold-hearted, super confident bitch everyone thinks that I am.”   “Why are you telling me all that?”          

“I don’t know… Maybe ‘cause I’m drunk and lonely and you’re one of the few people here that I actually like…” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “You’re messing with me, right?”  She, on the other hand, seemed rather confused by your apprehensiveness. “I appreciate people like you... Who manage to stay true to themselves despite hanging out with these people. It’s so easy to lose yourself in this environment... But I don’t think you did, and I can appreciate that.”  

“I’m just lucky to have good friends... If they were different, I don’t know if I’d stayed so nice and humble.”      

As the silence settled, you took the chance to sit down on the edge of her expensive looking bathtub. “So… changing the subject. You and Harry, what’s the deal?”  

“What do you mean?” You pretended you didn’t know what she was implying, hoping she would let go of the topic.

“I’m not stupid. I saw the way you looked when he was all over that guy… I confess I had no idea that you were into him. I thought you liked girls, I could almost swear he had told me that.” Her words made your stomach twist, and Alexa didn’t miss your distressed expression. “Sorry... I’m not very good with words. I didn’t mean to make it worse.” The girl added, trying to make up for her cold stance. “Here...” She handed you back the bottle, and you agreeably to a swig from it. “Does he know?”

“I don’t think so...”   “I don’t mean to be unpleasant but I think he thinks you’re a lesbian.”   “Yeah, I know…  he’s not completely wrong, I guess.”     “So, you’re bi?”               “I don’t really know what I am.”               “Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to be anything, you can just be… yourself!” You locked eyes with her, briefely smiling at her motivational words “How long have you fancied him for?”

“I don’t know...” You stared down at your own feet. “Thinking back, I guess I always kind of have... but it’s complicated. So I just hoped it would go away with time... Besides, you’ve seen the people he gets with. They’re all gorgeous, and I... I mean, I don’t really meet the standards, do I?”         “And how’s that working out for you?” You went quiet, since you didn’t really have a good answer to give. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do. First of all, you gotta stop with the self loathing. It’s depressing and outdated. You’re just as valid as everyone else.”

“It’s not self loathing. You don’t understand… What if he pushes me away? I really care for our friendship and I don’t want to throw it all away because of a stupid crush.”     “A stupid crush? Didn’t you just say you’ve always liked him? How long have you known eachother for? Three years?”   “Well… Two and half, but it’s not like I’ve been waiting for him… I’ve had my fair share of relationships and so did he, I never did anything to change that. Why would I start now?”       “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re at a party, locked inside a bathroom, crying over him, while he’s out there screwing somebody else.”           “God, you’re certainly are awful with words aren’t you?”             “I take pride in my honesty.” She stated. “Look, all I can say is that I think this whole “crush” situation is, obviously, far more than a crush... And you know I’m right so don’t even bother to deny it. Therefore, I think it’s long overdue that you do something about how you feel, otherwise you’re just gonna be stuck wondering on the what ifs forever, watching him live his life while you’re unable to move on with your yours, and you deserve better than that. Anyone deserves better than that.”       “It’s just… scary.”   “Isn’t everything worth trying always somewhat scary at first?”   You ended up spending the rest of the night with Alexa. Sitting inside her large empty bathtub, sharing your shittiest life experiences and drowning your sorrows with the bottle of rum. She told you about her crazy ex-boyfriend, and how he had been making her life a living hell since their break up. Showing up uninvited at her work, her parties, and practically everywhere she went, despite her telling him time and time again to stop and leave her alone. You advised her the best you could, but as you expected, she was pretty stubborn and acted as if she had everything under control, even though she clearly did not. The night had taken a unexpected turn for you, however, at least there was something positive you could also take from it, that being the friendship that was beggining to fluorish between you and Alexa. 

You were so deep in conversation that you completely lost track of time, so much that you finally felt tired and decided to check you phone for the time, it was already 6AM.

You had seven missed calls and fifteen text messages from your friends asking where you were, if you were okay and if you were still leaving with them. You realized they had probably already left, so you just apologized for leaving early and informed them that you were fine. When you and Alexa got out of the bathroom, there were still a couple of people hanging around, but as expected, the vast majority had already left.         

The light coming from the windows hurt your tired eyes and your bottom half was hurting from spending so many hours sitting inside a bathtub. By that time, all you wanted to do was go home, take a shower and take a nap to make up for the all nighter you pulled, but then you remembered…      

“Shit!”

“What?”

“I left my car at Harry’s house.”              

I hope you’re enjoying it so far! Chapter II is hereeee!