#and therefore i can set it aside. turn of my phone for now. and continue with my day

[miracleonice87]

Lavender Haze with my favorite lovie aka Sidney Crosby 🥹🥹

from m's midnights prompt list

warnings: online / social media bullying, swearing, implied 10 year age gap between Sid (age 36) and reader insert (age 26)

word count: ~4,100

1. Lavender Haze: “Staring at the ceiling with you / Oh, you don’t ever say too much / And you don’t really read into my melancholia / I been under scrutiny / You handle it beautifully / All this shit is new to me” 

---

“Alright, guys, thanks for your patience today – everybody did a great job with media today and all year, and now you finally get a break for a couple months,” Jen told the team with a smirk, earning a few stray whoops and hollers from around the locker room, the loudest from one Evgeni Malkin. It went without saying that locker room clean-out day was one of his favorite days of the year. Many of the guys thanked Jen in return as they packed up the remnants of their lockers and prepared to head to their respective homes for the summer. “Have a great offseason, call me if you need me, and I’ll see you guys in August,” she added as she did one last pass through the semi-circle of stalls, then stopped at the last one before the exit.

“Sid, can you stop by my office before you head out, please?” she asked, softly enough that only the veteran superstar could hear as he bent over his hockey bag. 

He stood up straight in front of his stall and nodded slowly. Jen gave him an oddly tight smile that felt forced before turning to walk out the dressing room doors. 

What was that all about…

Sidney’s brows knit together slightly as he wondered why she had addressed him so seriously. Considering his long tenure as captain and, therefore, the primary spokesperson for the players, it wasn’t at all uncommon for Jen to pull him aside for a brief one-on-one to discuss upcoming appearances or media needs that pertained only to him. It was uncommon, though, for her to do so in such a subdued and solemn manner, as though whatever she had to say to him was a sensitive matter. 

He rarely felt uneasy, but Jen’s request had certainly set him on edge. He silently packed up the final contents of his locker and made sure to bid farewell to each member of the team he hadn’t yet, his mind elsewhere all the while. Ten minutes later, he threw his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his bundle of sticks, and headed to Jen’s office. 

Sidney used a single knuckle to knock on her half-open door, where he could hear her speaking to someone else, in a hushed tone. 

Seriously, what the fuck is going on here…

“Come in,” she called out to him before returning to her previous volume. “Yeah, he just got here,” she said into her office phone. “Yep, I’ll tell him. Thanks.” She hung up the receiver and sighed heavily, folding her arms in front of her on the glass-topped desk. “Will you close the door?” she asked him.

“Jen, what the hell-”

“I know, Sid,” she said, shaking her head sadly, her eyes cast downward. “This isn’t how I wanted to go into the summer, but this needs to be addressed before you go home.” 

Sid passed by her desk in favor of leaning against her windowsill, unable to actually take a seat in the middle of the discomfort. 

“What’s going on?” he asked firmly, crossing his arms against his chest. 

Jen pursed her lips and took a beat before answering. Sid could see her switching from friend-mode to PR-mode before his very eyes, which rarely happened these days. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time it had. 

When the next two words out of her mouth were “it’s…” followed by your name, he felt every muscle in his body tense. His brows shot skyward and his eyes went wide, rendered utterly speechless as Jen quickly continued. “I don’t even know if this is something she’s aware of yet, but it’s something you need to be,” she told him. “The social team brought it to my attention earlier today. You know it’s par for the course for us to get a few dozen, sometimes even a couple hundred, stupid comments about you on a post, particularly at the end of a season. But this is… it’s just something we really haven’t had to deal with to this extent before.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, though he certainly didn’t actually want to know the answer to that question. 

“So we posted your final media availability from this morning as a standalone on Instagram,” she began. “It started out with just a couple of random comments, blaming her for the early exit. Just stupid shit like that. But… things have escalated. It’s become something of a… I don’t know, a trend? …to tag her handle in the comment section. And it’s gained some momentum, unfortunately. Seemingly primarily by Philly and Boston fans, which isn’t necessarily shocking.”

Sid tensed and flexed his fingers against the cool window frame. “How much ‘momentum’ are we talking about here?” he asked, voice cool. 

There was a long pause. One far too long for comfort. 

“About 14,000. Kind of… going viral, at least by our standards.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jen,” he spat.

“I know.”

“This is exactly why I never engaged in this social media bullshit.”

“I know.”

“But she didn’t, either. Her account is fucking private. Family and friends only.”

“I know.”

“I never wanted to ask her to shut it down.”

“I know.” 

Sid sighed, his head falling backwards as he closed his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly firing nerve endings. Eventually, he pushed away from the window and held out his hand. 

“Let me see.” He nodded toward Jen’s work iPhone, which was currently buzzing so frequently that it was about to fall off the edge of her desk. 

“Sid, I really don’t-”

“Let… me see.” 

Jen heaved a sigh, glancing upward, before picking up, unlocking, and, after scrolling in her camera roll to her most recent screenshots, handing over the phone.

We’re blaming Sid’s new gf. He had to spend too much time helping her with her algebra homework this year

⮑ How much do you think he pays her per season

⮑ For what, prostitution or her daycare?

She’s gotta be his cover

No wonder he’s lost a step, can’t keep up on the ice AND chase after his toddler

Watch out, Sid. She might run off with Nate. Much closer to her age

From Crybaby Crosby to Sugar Daddy Crosby

Gonna pull a Wayno and request a trade to LA because his girl wants to be famous

⮑ Or end up like Mario when she gets pregnant and traps him

That one made him chuckle darkly. “Yeah, because Mario was so miserable that he’s stayed married to Nathalie for 30-some years and had three more children,” he said bitterly.

⮑ For real, make sure you keep it wrapped, 87

⮑ She's also only as old as Mario's youngest kid. Like let that sink in

Wonder if G’s and Tanger’s girls have to take her to the playground

⮑ Anna and Catherine are so fucking fine, and then there’s her. Blegh

⮑ At least she’s well endowed

⮑ That’s just because she’s chubby

Was hoping she was just a one night stand but apparently not. Hope he doesn’t wife her

Dumb gold digging wh*re

⮑ We want prenup

Hope she dies in a car crash

What’s her @? I don’t wanna f*ck her, just wanna make her life a living hell

⮑ Found her - @yourusername - ig do yo thang!

⮑ Thanks for nothing @yourusername you stupid bitch

And on and on it went from there.

Phone still in hand, fingers gripped tightly around it, Sid met Jen’s concerned eyes. He swallowed hard.

“Is that it?” Please, god, let that be it…

With a single shake of her head, she instructed, “Scroll to the left.” 

He did as she said, and a meme from a widely-followed hockey rumor account appeared. 

SID’S MUCH YOUNGER GIRL GETS ANNIHILATED ON SOCIAL, BLAMED FOR PENS MISSING PLAYOFFS, the first slide read in bold red letters printed above a photo of her, which he knew had been pulled from the account of one of the other Pens’ partners, sporting her “87” beanie at the Winter Classic in January. The following slides in the post were screenshots highlighting some of the nastiest comments from the original post. 

“So that’s the main reason I’m calling this to your attention,” Jen said as he scrolled reluctantly, waves of nausea rolling in his gut. “It might have flown under the radar if it had stayed contained in our comments, but this account picked it up and ran with it. So it’s being more widely discussed.”

Sid inhaled and exhaled slowly, then muttered, “fuck,” as he returned Jen’s phone, letting his hands fall to the leather seatback in front of him. “So what can we do?” he asked.

“We can release a statement,” she said as she clicked the phone locked and placed it back on her desk. “If you want to. Management is fine with that and supports whatever decision you make.” 

Sid nodded, grateful for that sentiment, but still unsure that that was the best course of action. 

“Anybody say what they’d do in this situation?” he asked. 

Jen couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Yeah, one of them said they’d go full Will Smith. ‘Keep my wife’s name out your fuckin’ mouth,’” she told him. “He didn’t actually say that part, but… I’ll let you guess who.”

Sid breathed a slight chuckle. “Sounds like Sully.”

Jen nodded. “It was him on the phone when you walked in,” she informed him. “He didn’t want to say it in front of everyone, but he wanted me to tell you to call him if you need him. Unfortunately, he’s familiar with situations like yours because of Charlie and Kiley, so don’t hesitate to reach out to him - or to any of them - if you need some advice.”

He exhaled forcefully, glancing at his shoes. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He looked back up toward Jen, one of his most trusted companions and confidants. “What would you do? If you were me.”

Jen pursed her lips and leaned her palms against her desk. 

“I’d go talk to my partner first.”

___

It was a quick drive from PPG to your condo in the Strip District. Door to door was typically about seven minutes, ten with traffic. 

Today, though, it felt like it took hours. 

Sid hadn’t told you he was coming over. He planned to make use of the spare key you had given him months ago. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to catch you off-guard for once, make it so you wouldn’t have time to pull yourself together or freshen up or plaster a grin on your face, as he had a sneaking suspicion that you sometimes did in an attempt to put on a brave front for him.

He simply wanted to meet you, literally, right where you were. He didn’t know how aware you even were of the situation, if at all, so determining that was first on his priority list.

With a nod to the security guard at the front desk, who recognized him not only as a Penguin but from his frequent visits to the building, usually hand-in-hand with you, Sid made his way to the elevator, then to your floor.

Upon reaching your place, he called out to you through the door, before he even unlocked it and turned the handle, so as not to frighten you in what could be considered a fragile time, no matter how you might actually be feeling currently.

“It’s me,” he announced. “I’m coming in.”

This certainly didn’t come as a surprise to you. You didn’t make a move, but instead called out, “In the living room.” 

Sid pushed the door open, then closed and locked it behind him, kicked off his shoes, and left his ball cap in the entryway. He slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. As he approached, he saw you lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling with your head propped on a throw pillow from the nearby sofa. The sliding glass door leading to your private terrace was open, and the light breeze danced through the gauzy drapes that hung in the threshold.

“Hi, love,” he greeted quietly. 

You forced yourself to look up at him, although your expression was unreadable. 

“Hi,” you replied. “I’ve kind of been expecting you,” you told him as you fixed your eyes upward again. 

Sid nodded, grabbing a pillow for himself before crouching down next to you. Although he leaned over to kiss your forehead, a warm and welcome gesture in the midst of your inner turmoil, he didn’t say anything else right away. He didn't have to. He knew what you needed, and that was just for him to be there with you. To be in it with you. 

And you didn’t say anything, either. Sid didn’t really read into it – you didn’t need to say so out loud for him to understand that this wasn’t about him, or your relationship from the inside out.

It was just about the outsiders, the pathetic trolls who had spent the last several hours taking unnecessary and unprompted shots at you online. 

This scrutiny you were currently under wasn’t necessarily shocking. When you thought back on it, you supposed you had been bracing yourself for it ever since you had agreed to that very first date with Sid over a year ago now after being introduced by mutual friends. He had been the primary face of the league, the Canadian golden boy in every sense of the word, for two decades now, simultaneously adored and hated by literal millions of people, which would never be a figure you’d be able to fully wrap your brain around.

And you’d never shown Sidney the hundreds of message requests that piled up in your inbox from week to week, until you remembered to go in and delete them, and while you made it a point not to read them, it was damn near impossible for your eyes not to catch words such as “hooker,” “slut,” “clout chaser” and worse before tapping Delete All and doing your best to move on with your day with a positive attitude. You’d never told him about the obscene things that people would nearly fall out their car windows to scream at you as you made the short walk from the downtown bars near the arena, on the few nights that you opted to meet the girls or your family for a drink before the games rather than enter the arena through the comfort of the private garage attached to the venue. You’d never mentioned the dozens of times you’d watched partners of the guys on the team mutter and cluck their tongues in disgust while deleting hateful comments about you from their own posts in the past year, which was always followed up by tapping Report and Block in quick succession.

So no, it wasn’t shocking. What it was, though, was hurtful, no matter how far removed from reality the comments and messages actually were. 

Finally, Sidney moved beside you, rolling his head to the side to study you intently, still silent for a long while. He knew this couldn’t be the first time you’d been hurt, even if indirectly, because of his profession. But it was the first time he’d seen you dwell on it before his very eyes, and it shattered him.

“You doing okay?” he asked gently.

You, too, let your head fall to the side to meet his gaze. 

“Who, me? Oh, never better,” you teased, opting for humor. 

Sid let out a singular, sad chuckle, then reached his thumb to smooth across your cheekbone. 

“So much for the lavender haze, huh?” you sighed, curling into his touch as he opened his palm to caress your face. 

“Doesn’t change a goddamn thing about the way I feel about you,” he asserted. “About how crazy I am about you. How much I adore you.” 

You nodded, grasping his forearm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. You kissed the fleshy crease of his hand.

“I know that,” you said. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you either, it’s just…” You sighed, and he took this opportunity to open his arms and invite you closer. You rolled onto your side and rested your head on his chest, and he wound his arms around you as tightly as he possibly could. “All this shit is new to me, Sid,” you said in a small voice. 

He gave your waist a squeeze and used his fingertips to trace up and down your arm soothingly, then pressed a kiss to your hairline. 

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with it at all. It’s because of me. And I hate that more than anything.”

You reached to cup your hand against his neck. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you protested. “I don’t want you to be. It’s not your fault”

He sighed. “Maybe not, but, still…” 

He trailed off, and you let his words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “Well, for what it’s worth, you handle it beautifully.”

You looked up at him adoringly. He returned the gesture, smiling down at you softly as his thumb tapped your shoulder appreciatively.

You settled back against him, eyes fixed on the shelf of plants across the room, unable to look at him for this next part. You swallowed hard.

“I think I’m gonna shut down my acc-”

“I don’t want you to do that,” he said immediately, shaking his head. He had never spoken to you so sharply. “Not because of this. Not because of me. We can’t let people win. That's exactly what they want.”

Your voice wavered as you tried your best to argue. “It’s not just this one time, Sid,” you admitted, but didn’t elaborate any further. “I don’t want people talking about you like that-”

“I don’t give a damn what people say,” he said, his volume rising. “Let them fucking talk all the shit they want. It’ll never change the way I look at you, the way I feel about you. And that’s what they’re trying to do. They’re trying to poke holes in this where there are none. Let’s not give them any more power than they already think they have.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that one. Instead, silence fell over the room once again as you lay in his strong arms. About five minutes later, after replaying his little monologue again and again in his head, he kissed your temple. 

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, lips still pressed to your skin. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I just need you to know that you’re more important to me than any of this shit. You’re the most important thing in my life, and it’s not close.”

You lifted yourself from your prone position in favor of straddling Sid’s waist, not in a sexual way, but simply in one that kept him close. He reached for your hands to entangle your fingers in his, and you leaned down to kiss him.

“Once again, no need to apologize, but I do appreciate it,” you said, sitting back up. “You know you’re the only thing that truly matters to me, too. We’ll get through this – we’re way stronger than the shit they’re trying to throw at us.” Below you, Sid nodded, smoothing the back of your hands with his thumb. “But I, for one, am ready to take a break from talking about this for right now, and I’m starving. Can I order us some delivery?” you asked, climbing off of him. Sid, too, stood up. 

“Let me order,” he insisted, bringing you in with a hand at the small of your back. “What sounds good to you?”

You barely needed a moment to respond. “Pizza?” you suggested. 

“Pizza it is,” he agreed. “I’ll call Milano.”

You grinned at the mention of your favorite local joint and pushed yourself up to kiss him. 

“Sounds perfect,” you said. “Thank you. I’m gonna go put on some sweats. I’ll be right back,” you said, kissing him one more time before disappearing into your bedroom. 

Sid's gaze followed you as you entered your closet, grateful that you’d unwittingly fallen for his plan to be able to nonchalantly check his phone. He pulled it from his pocket as he walked out onto the terrace. On his screen were notifications of dozens of calls and texts, but a few names stood out from the rest. 

Sully - iMessage: Sid - Jen has kept me up to speed on the situation this afternoon. I'm sorry that you both are dealing with this nonsense. With the way this has escalated, I would encourage you to strongly consider allowing her team to make a statement. That being said, I understand and support whatever decision you make, and I know you’ll do what’s best for the both of you. Always in your corner. - MS

Geno - iMessage: Anna told me what happened. Bullshit!!!!! Make Jen write statement, NOW!!!!!

Jen - iMessage: I already have a few sentences drafted based on our conversation earlier. If you’d like to move forward, just say the word. For now, just take care of her.

Sidney turned and quietly slid the terrace door shut behind him, then tapped Jen’s contact number and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang only one-and-a-half times before…

“Thought I might hear from you.”

“Thought you might say that,” Sid retorted, eyes trailing across the cityscape below. 

“How is she?” Jen asked. 

Sid blew out a long breath. “Honestly, better than I expected. It was a little rough when I first got here, but you know her, nothing keeps her down for too long.”

Jen offered a sound of approval. “Yep, that’s my girl. So… what’s up?”

“I wanna put out a statement,” he said confidently. “Not from me, but from the team, if that’s possible.”

“It’s more than possible - it’s what I was going to suggest if you decided to go this route,” she replied. “Like I said, I already have something started, so I’ll continue to work on that.”

“Send me a draft beforehand, okay? I’d like to offer input,” Sidney requested, glancing over his shoulder to ensure you hadn’t yet emerged from your bedroom, lest you grow suspicious of his clandestine phone conversation.

“Of course,” said Jen. “I’d never release without your approval.” 

“That’s why you’re the best in the biz,” he told her jokingly, though genuinely. “Could you just email it to me rather than read it over the phone like normal? I haven’t, uh, exactly told her I’m doing this yet.” 

“Understood,” she responded immediately. “Give me 20 and I’ll shoot something your way.” 

“Thanks, Jen. Truly,” he said. “I’m really grateful to you and your team.” 

“Always in your corner, Sid,” she said, calling back to mind the same promise from his head coach via text just hours ago. “You’re easy to defend. Talk soon. Bye.” 

“Bye, Jen.”

- - -

The next morning…

A statement from the Pittsburgh Penguins:

The Pittsburgh Penguins are aware of and do not condone the despicable and disparaging comments made online recently regarding a member of our captain’s family. Involving and attempting to implicate our players’ families in discussions about the results of our season and the future of our organization is simply heinous and unacceptable. While our organization does not typically respond to immature and ill-informed social media comments, we are unable to stand by and allow these words to go unchecked. We will not allow so-called fans of this game to post unfair and patently untrue accusations against our players’ loved ones without publicly denouncing them ourselves. We applaud the dignity and grace with which our players’ families approach these difficult situations, and our organization fully supports and stands with them.

- - -

“I read it,” Sidney heard from the open French doors of his office half an hour after Jen told him the statement had gone live.

Apparently, it was his turn for a visit previously unannounced.

He spun in his chair to find you standing in front of him, arms crossed tightly against your chest, eyes rimmed with red but also with a small smile on your lips. "I was already on my way here anyway, but..."

“Come here,” he invited, pushing his chair back from his desk. You obliged, crossing the room toward him and taking a seat on his lap as he circled his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to the back of your arm, eyes closing in reverence as his lips lingered against your skin. 

You rested the side of your head against the top of his. “‘A member of your family,’ huh?” you asked softly, unable to keep the wide grin from your face. 

Sid pressed a few more quick kisses to your skin before shifting you slightly in his lap so that he could meet your eyes. He looked up at you reverently, pushing some of your hair away from your face. 

“That verbiage was my choice,” he informed you firmly. “Because that’s what you are to me. You are my family,” he said, conviction in every syllable. “Yes, you’re my girlfriend for now, but in time, you’ll be my fiancé, my wife, the mother of my children. You know that. ‘Girlfriend’ or even ‘partner’ just didn’t feel like enough. You’re… you’re my everything. I love you.” 

You nodded. With more tears forming in your eyes, you pressed your hand to his smooth cheek and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips as he cupped the back of your head in his hand. “Thank you.”

[youwontlikethisblog]

Armando Mendoza: A Brief Analysis

Hey, how are you? It's been a while. This will be a lil update so if you want you can skip down to the [GREEN] to start with the post :)

It's been a hectic few months. I finally decided to stop setting it aside and get real about my writing and begun the tedious task of editing the final draft of my original manuscript. I'm a perfectionist(Although if we're considering my posts about YSBLF as an example of that, than you wouldn't expect it lol. I suppose that's what I get for writing post when I haven't had a lick of sleep and don't stop to take breaks while writing the posts and then, half brain dead, I sit down to "edit" the grammar). When it comes to something that truly means a lot to me I do not feel satisfied until it has reached my exact expectations. I've made a few updates on my writing and how it's been going. There's some exciting development on it but I want to wait a little more to be able to fully talk about it and share the news with y'all.

That being said; I still have not continued watching YSBLF since the last time I did a post about the show, y'know, life and all but without further ado, here is the post :)

Armando Mendoza: An Objective and A Not So Deep Dive

Now that I've had some time and space away from the show, I can look at the characters in a more objective manner. I've been considering a lot of things regarding them and I feel like this post might come right out of left field —seeing how I normally seem to "defend" Armando, or some might assume I do— and this post will most likely not do that. In reality, it won't. It'll rightfully so call him out.

See, the stark difference between Marcela and Armando, not personality wise, but writing wise, is that Marcela doesn't really have a backstory. Her past is pretty blurry and the very few clear images we get of it always paint her to be the exact same person. However with Armando his past, while also not clear, is more visible and a little bit more precise than hers. In the post I made for Marcela I wasn't as empathetic as I should have been.

Marcela's past is basically unknown and the very little information we do get doesn't paint her in the best of lights. However, that doesn't mean that she deserved or that what Armando was doing to her was okay. I should have said that in her post. I placed a lot of emphasis on the fact that while Marcela had a right to feel what she did, she didn't have a right to act the way she was. Feelings are valid, actions are not.

Well same goes for Armando.

Armando could have been dating a helicopter as a girlfriend, someone who was possessive and controlling of him, but that doesn't justify nor excuse his horrible behavior towards her. While yes, one could assume that his cheating had to do with his lack of control with life, it still doesn't justify or excuse it. Nothing, ever, justifies cheating.

As I said in the Marcela post: This isn't about her so I won't be explaining her reasoning, her behavior, her actions, or anything of those sorts, therefore, don't take it as me excusing her bad behavior. It's simply being mentioned.

With modern times come modern solutions. Nowadays it's very easy to be able to pick up your phone and google something, read a self-help book, find the root of your childhood trauma and even a therapist. Child development isn't easy to understand to the naked eye and you have to have years of experience on the subject to fully understand how point A gets to point B. I'm no expert of it, just done some basic research on certain topics of childhood trauma and such so while I might have some form of understanding, it's not an exactitude on the subject.

We can estimate that Armando had emotionally absent parents, witnesses how his parents turned their backs on his sister for falling in love with a poor man and the way the elite society they're a part of was about the whole subject. How do we draw to this conclusion?

His father doesn't even know what he went to college for or what he got his degree on. His mother coddles him, only when he acts to her standards, enables a horrible relationship that does not benefit neither her biological son or her basically-adopted daughter. Quite the contrary the show does a good job at showing the drastic parallels of Betty's relationship with her parents compared to Armando and his parents. Consider the fact that any time Armando is on screen with his parents they only talk about two things: His relationship with Marcela and the company.

They don't sound like the warmest of parents do they?

I talk a lot about being a writer and how knowing your characters IS one of the most crucial and important parts of developing your story. I mention this because when you write characters, fleshed out ones, you have at the very least an understanding of their past. Not an exact one, but an understanding in order to have them say the things they do and act the way they do.

Roberto was always cold towards Armando, from the very start. He clearly showed signs that he didn't very much care for him. He cared more about the company, his wife, Daniel, Marcela, Beatriz, and then, at the very end, Armando. With obvious reasons we understand why Roberto didn't trust Armando. It's always been told that he's always been a player, doesn't commit, and is immature, plus with the devil on his shoulder he calls a best friend, Armando isn't the most trustworthy.

Yet, that does not excuse Roberto's lousy father role in his son's life. Children need strong(by that I mean emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually present) male role models in their lives, especially father figures. I've said it before that it could be a possibility that Armando's childhood was very much with an emotionally distant father. This creates the perfect breeding ground for a child to constantly feel like they must excel in every part of their lives(perfectionism), have an anxious attitude, a fear of losing the love of their loved ones if they aren't excelling(low self-esteem), and other difficulties. Basically this ball of fear, resentment, anger, perfectionism, and anxiousness(being avoidant) . These issues on their own bring their separate problems that mixed together make for an unlikeable person. I don't know about you, but this sounds a lot like Armando.

Of course there's people who grew up with emotionally unavailable parents and grew up to be fully companionate, kind, loving, and wonderful people. That's the tricky thing about trauma, not one size fits all. Just because two people grew up the same doesn't mean they'll deal with it the same way.

Emotionally absent parents equal physically absent parents when it comes to their children's development.

His mother was the same, though, unlike Roberto, Margarita did love Armando and was present but very conditional with her love. You can have examples of this when Armando and Marcela would be fighting. She always took Marcela's side and pressured Armando to continue the relationship. She also guilted Marcela into staying with Armando. She was never there to comfort her son when he was at his lowest or even before. She was just only ever present in his life and made an effort to talk to him when it came to his engagement to Marcela. Plus, the whole causing Camila to divorce her husband and move to a different country fiasco.

Armando did a fine job of taking after his parents, as he is a perfect reflection of them.

There's one thing that Armando said that has ran laps around my brain for a while now; "I know I did things wrong, damnit I always do!" outside of el Meson.

He's aware of the things he does, even if it's at the heat of the moment, Armando is a self-aware jester, who never cared enough to change until he lost everything.

This change, while outside forces moved him to change, were not the reason why he changed. That's another message that is lost with this show.

Armando didn't change because he fell in love with Betty. Armando only learned to be brave enough to be the person he always aspired to be, because he fell in love. Doesn't matter who he fell in love with, he simply did. The love he received from Betty only taught him to be brave enough to love the same.

The same way Betty was naïve to how depraved any man can be, whether educated or not, rich, poor, or from a "high" society or lower class, Armando too was naïve to what was actually good and bad because he never really had parents that cared enough to teach him. Now this in no way frees Armando from accountability. Lets not forget that the whole point of his personality at the beginning of the story is that he sucks, and is a horrible man.

[TAKE A BREAK IF YOU NEED ONE.]

Sex addiction is a serious addiction. As I've mentioned before, in one of my earliest posts, that Armando shows to have signs of it but I'm no expert so I wouldn't say he does. For example, his affairs often cause issues in his relationship, his professional life, and for himself. While he's aware of all the risk that these affairs cause in his life, he still part takes in them! These are all signs that he has an addiction. However, I don't think that was the intent behind this part of his personality when he was being written, simply there to show how he was a Casanova of sorts.

These are all things I've already talked about in different posts but I wanted to dive a little bit deeper here in case some people haven't read those.

Let's get to the real juicy stuff now.

Armando's horrible, terrible, abusive, treatment of women.

Yeah Armando defended Aura, he wasn't a misogynist, and he didn't abuse his position of power nor assaulted any women(not talking about the constant harassment of Betty after she found the letter yet). Still, Armando was abusive.

He constantly manipulated women into believing he was serious about them just to use them, he gaslit —not only Marcela but all his side chicks— people in order to control a situation, and at times even got physical. Let's not forget the hair pulling, choking, and dragging of Karla, Marce, and Larson. Let's not forget Betty! While he never hit them, the way he acted, was not okay!

Armando was aggressive, he was controlling, and he was manipulative. God, he was awful!

There's no excuse or even a justification for him in this part.

While you can argue that his intentions weren't to harm those girls, he still did it. The moment they didn't behave to his standards, he removed his "love"(infatuation) from them. Does that sound similar to a pattern? like someone else? (Margarita).

However Marcela for this instance was a victim of his. His constant cheating made her so controlling, resentful, and bitter.

A cycle starts somewhere. Whether it be Marce being possessive from the get go of their relationship or Armando cheating first, somewhere the cycle began.

One thing I want to make clear is that both Marcela and Armando were abusive and victims of each other.

From the start of the novela Armando isn't a good person. He's horrible. However, he was meant to be charismatic, which would cause people to over-look those red flags.

There's a lot of sides to Armando's character and that's what makes him complex.

There's obvious reason as to why Armando, in a sense, has some redeeming qualities compared to the people he's surrounded by. You know, he feels remorse for the way he acts, especially towards Marce and Betty. He feels the pressure of not letting his parents down and the responsibility of keeping people employed. However, even if it's remorse, the problem always lays in the fact that he doesn't truly change.

In this half of the post I'm focusing more on his relationship with Marcela.

I've talked about reactionary abuse, toxic relationships, abusive tactics, and patterns in all of my posts regarding Armando and Marcela. I've explained in a simplified way and yet I feel like some people either reject the idea or only want to blame one party.

What makes Marcela and Armando's relationship toxic and not D.A. is that they both enable each other and their bad habits. See, even if Armando were the one that started the conflicts, Marcela also acts out abusively. Basically they up one another in any fight. As if saying "Oh so you're going to threaten to leave? Fine! Then I'll ruin your life! If you leave me it would be like losing my parents all over again." while the other responds with "Marrying you is simply a favor to you! If you speak up about this than the wedding is off!" get the idea?

Marcela enables Armando by acting out in her rage, further pushing him to act out in his cheating and gaslighting. Armando enables Marcela by his cheating and gaslighting. They both feed the cycle and reject any accountability for their actions.

What makes this drastically different in what a typical D.A situation in where the abused reacts abusive(aka mirrors their abuser) is that they BOTH switch sides. One moment Armando is the abuser, the one with the upper hand in the relationship and then, the next, Marcela is the one that is being abusive and in control. Often times they bounce off each other. It's not Armando constantly and only being the Abuser with Marcela mirroring him. They BOTH DO THIS.

However, at the very least, Armando at the end of the series took accountability and broke the cycle.

When you write two explosive and complex characters meant to be together you have to separate them from each other. By this I mean that Marcela is her own person away from Armando, just like Armando is his own person away from Marcela. Together, however, they are a volcanic eruption. While, for Marcela, this can translate to just being passionate and intense, for Armando it can be an absolute tragedy that must continue in order to keep every party of people in his life "happy" while in the end, at the very least, he has his affairs to give him something.

Together Armando and Marcela are a horrible duo because all they do is cause harm to one another. That's what makes their relationship toxic, not one sided abuse.

One can argue that the ONLY reason Marcela acted this way was because of Armando, meaning, if you remove the cause of the problem, the issue would be resolved, right?

Not entirely as we're often shown and told that Marcela is this way with everyone. She keeps up with public appearances for the sake of their elite society but she treats people outside of her economic class poorly, en fin she treats anyone that isn't to her standards poorly and inhumanly. What does this tell us? That she on her own is toxic and abusive so even if she were in a healthy relationship, her prejudice and expectations of things causes her to be this way.

Armando was a cause of the problems in the relationship! That's where the tricky part and what makes them complex, is.

We know that Armando and Marcela were basically forced to be together, or groomed. From a young age all they've heard is how they must be together to unite the families, how her dead parents wanted that more than anything. That's placing a lot of pressure on two people.

However, even if this were the case(which it is) Armando's go about and treatment of Marcela was not okay. For the sake of this post let's say that Armando is the reason Marcela is the way she is(meaning we ignore her personality all together). He caused her to be possessive, controlling, toxic, and cold. Marcela was once a kind and sweet person who did nothing but show devotion and adoration for him, and Armando's constant cheating and lying pushed her to be this way.

Armando could have handled it a lot better. If he felt obligated to be with Marcela from the get go, he could have at the very least, like the very minimum treated her as a human being, and not cheated. That's the very least she deserved.

Obviously, we don't know how the start of their relationship was like. All we know is that when they got engaged that he made a promise to Marcela to be faithful and that Marcela knew about the affairs. We know that Armando and Marcela at least had somewhat of a "happy" relationship, despite the affairs and fights they'd get into. (Which this on it's own establishes that Marcela was fully aware of Armando's unfaithfulness before their engagement, that and his promises to be faithful show us that it's been a problem for years.)

Let's consider this; If Armando fell for Betty when she was ugly SIMPLY because of the adoration and devotion she had for him, why didn't he do that with Marcela at the start?

Had she held this devotion and adoration for Armando from the start it would imply that Armando would have fallen for her, same way he did with Betty, and therefore Marcela would have never turned out to be the way she did, right?

Let's be honest here. That's the sole reason why Armando even began to have some sort of confused emotions towards Betty. It made him feel good, boosted his pride and ego, and tide with the fact he trusted her, he liked Betty. So if Marcela would have been the same way at the start, don't you think Armando would have felt the same? Therefore he wouldn't had cheated on Marcela?

Again, that sounds like I'm solely blaming Marcela for the dissolvement of their relationship but I'm not.

Armando is part/responsible for Marcela's possessiveness in their relationship and there's no excuse for it.

What is cheating and why do people cheat?

Cheating can range from emotional intimacy with another person that isn't your partner to physical. The physical can range from simple hand holding to full blown intercourse.

(source: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-do-people-in-relationships-cheat/#:~:text=The%20participants%20admitted%20to%20cheating,desire%2C%20and%20situation%20or%20circumstance.)

In the article linked as a source it mentions that most partners cheat due to a lack of validation, love, or due to neglect in their relationship. What does this tell us?

While cheating is not a valid response to whatever is a lack in a relationship, there's always a valid reason the person feels the way they do. Let me say that again. Cheating is not valid, but the emotions of the person who is cheating, are. Cheating is not valid, but emotions are. What does this mean? (Unless we're talking about a narcissistic abuser. In that case, no. They are not valid) This is overall just a an idea of why cheating occurs in otherwise "healthy" relationships.

If you feel like your relationship lacks validation, love, neglectful, abusive, or there's no spark or desire: LEAVE or go to couple's therapy and work on it with your partner(EXCEPT FOR THE ABUSIVE ONE. LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! There is help for you.).

Emotions are valid, actions are not. A person's feelings are valid but that does not excuse nor justify cheating.

While Armando's cheating was a huge reason why they had fights and arguments, there had to be a reason why he cheated in the first place and while his emotions were valid, his actions were not.

His cheating could have very well begun at the start of the relationship feeling as if he had no real control over his life because of his parents persistent push for him to be with Marcela, which means it had nothing to with Marcela, everything to do with his parents, and ultimately this caused Marcela to be so possessive. Or it could have simply been Marcela who was like that from the start because she too had to deal with the ever guilting of Margarita's "this is what your parents always wanted, for you two to be together and unite the families." In all honesty the real villain of this show is Margarita.

Yes, their relationship was a paradox of sorts. If they broke up, Armando would lose the presidency, the company would dissolve, his parents would hate him, and he'd be a failure. Marcela wouldn't have really lost anything except Armando.

We can go with the 'could have' and 'should have' or 'what if's', but at the end of the day all we've got is what is actually canon in the show and not just speculation.

A few weeks ago I saw this video on my IG feed of FG talking about the ending of YSBLF. He said he didn't give them their happily ever after, since Armando was Betty's executioner(verdugo).

If the writer himself is saying that Armando wasn't all that amazing, I suppose that means he wasn't.

Yes, Armando went through a redemption arc but even then, Armando wasn't the best person. He was simply a better version of himself. He learned to be honest, to view people as his equals, women as humans and not properties, and to be selfless and caring, that's a huge difference from the Armando from the beginning but Armando was still neurotic. He was still a control freak, and was prone to his anger outburst.

However, this is realistic! Armando didn't change to be the perfect man that was deserving of Betty. He came to be real. He had his traumas and he was healing from them. The love of Betty didn't fix him, contrary, when she stopped showing a pure love towards him, osea, removed her love from him, Armando had no other choice but to LEARN to love properly. In order to do that, he needed to revaluate himself, his goals, his life, and what had pushed him to such a low point in his life and the ironic thing is that Armando's low point wasn't him drunk and suicidal at the bar that night. Armando's low point was the moment he agreed to manipulate Betty in order to retain her devotion and the company.

The downfall of Armando began the moment the novela started. It was a slow trickling drip from the throne he believed he deserved for simply existing and just as that, so was Marcela's.

Unlike with Betty, who was basically seduced to be bad, Armando and Marcela's downfall began from the very beginning.

So many people dismiss the abysmal abuse that was plain in the novela when it's the women acting out this way but are quick to crucify any male who acts the same way.

Now, I'm not saying Armando was only a victim of circumstance because that's not true. If I believed anyone was a victim to circumstance I'd say it was Marcela or Betty.

Why?

Because Armando, with chest puffed in pride, cleared headed, and sober CHOSE to manipulate these women. That's the abhorrent part of his character. That above all he always wanted to save his own skin and while his feelings were complex as to why, at the very end of it, he didn't want to deal with the repercussions.

While Armando wanted to be good, to prove he could be good, to himself, Marcela, and his parents, there lacked a true conviction in him. He felt like he needed to be good in order to have his parents love and approval and one of those things was that he also marry Marcela but he didn't feel inspired to be good.

There's a difference between knowing what's good, wanting to do good, and feeling inspired to be good. See, with inspiration comes motivation and with motivation comes action.

Writing complex characters means that good motives are acted out wrong. It means that bad motives are disguised as good acts. Not fully good, not entirely evil.

When you get to know your characters the rest of the story comes to you naturally and by that I mean that the actions they take, the words they speak, how they are, kind of rolls out of you naturally. You need to know your characters before you sit down to write your story.

Armando's actions are horrible. He was abusive but he was also a victim and I know someone is probably wondering "well why aren't you talking about the way he was towards Betty when she found the letter?" and that's simple.

Armando perfectly mirrored Marcela and Betty perfectly mirrored Armando.

I mentioned this in the Marcela Valencia post but I'll try and talk a bit more about it here.

Armando's constant abuse and violation of Betty is an exact mirroring of Marcela, however, he still chose to act this way knowing that instead of drawing Betty closer to him, that he'd push her further away and while in moments of lucidness Armando attempted to resolve the issues he had with Betty in a calm manner, she wasn't on the same page.

Armando chased Betty all over the place, threw jealousy fits, and forced himself onto her. Marcela did the exact same to him.

However, here's the tricky part of it.

Betty.

Betty was the perfect mirror of Armando. She lied to him, manipulated him, and "cheated" on him. The same way he was towards Marcela.

Obviously this is a simplified version of it but it's the same thing at the end of the day.

Had Betty never acted this way, would Armando have treated her the way he had?

To a lesser degree, I do think so.

I think he would have manipulated her and that he would have thrown some jealousy fit here and there.

See the thing is that if Betty had never given him a taste of his own medicine Armando would have never changed. No matter how much he wanted to or how badly he was in love with Betty.

Armando, to his core, was a coward. That's what he was in the story. Due to this he resorted to manipulation and cheating.

While some of his actions were due to some sort of trauma or the fear of rejection, and came from a place of hurt and self-preservation, Armando still acted wrong.

At least at the end Armando took accountability for his actions and somewhat changed his ways. Was he deserving of getting the girl? Not entirely but was Betty deserving of getting Armando? Not entirely and see that's the problem with writing romance.

Often times the most important bit of the story is cut out because "people don't want to see the reconciliation, they just want to hear about it. "

From what I know, Betty never took accountability for the way she treated Armando after she found the letter and this I will later discuss whenever I get around to watching YSBLF and write a post about the episode but in simpler words: Betty chose to exact revenge on Armando and yes, her emotions were so valid! but her actions were not!

Betty treated Armando the exact same way Armando treated Marcela.

Lastly, I've said Armando is a complex character from the start and while that may be true, this complexity does not excuse his horrible behavior because complexities never do.

Well, I hope y'all enjoy this long over due post, and I apologize for the long hiatus on the YSBLF breakdown posts.

Also, again, sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, I'm working on it! Lol.

'Til next time :)

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[ascarimo]

After Class - [Professor!Lando]

A/N: Requested on Wattpad

WORDCOUNT: 2.2K+

WARNINGS: nsfw (teacher x student plot, unprotected sex)

SYNOPSIS: You're one of Lando's students, and he's your Arts professor. You have a question about a project, and therefore you ask if you can stay after class.

When reading the description of the extra course you were about to choose, you weren't exactly sure if it would be a good choice. Nevertheless, you thought a semester of art class would mean easy credits added to your study, and therefore you selected the course, taking it next to the other courses of your study. Art and design had always interested you, especially the designing of clothing, and it would also be fun to take this course as an extra effort. Ever since you met the professor of the course, Professor Norris, it was your favorite course. The Brit taught the class four hours a week, a lecture and a seminar. You had to admit that his good looks and his charming, bright character are the main part why you loved the course as well. The exam period was coming up soon, and for the art class, Mr. Norris gave his class the assignment to design their own clothing line.

And it was harder than you thought. Two weeks before the exam period, Professor Norris gave his students the time to work on it in class, where they could ask him questions as well. After the last seminar, all the students had three more weeks to finish the project and hand it in. You were struggling with the color scheme, yet confident about the design. You felt like you were stuck in your project, and whatever you tried, it didn't seem to work. Luckily, you had the chance to ask your professor today. You were right on time for his class to start, and with your laptop, you sat down in one of the middle rows of the classroom. The seminar group was small, which you liked, as the setting was a lot cozier with just eight students, instead of a large group. Professor Norris hopped on his desk, looking around the class. He was wearing a ripped pair of jeans, a slightly large shirt, and some sneakers he had designed and created himself.

"Good afternoon, everyone, we're just going to repeat the seminar from last week. You have the time to work on your projects and ask about anything you need help with. Feel free to put some headphones on or anything," Professor Norris told his students, which made most of them nod in agreement. You looked up at him, his lips twitching upwards when his eyes met yours. You smiled back at him before starting up your laptop, logging into your account, and selecting the file of your project. You scrolled through it, silence filling the classroom as everyone was either busy or on their phone. You looked around, waiting for the first one to step towards Professor Norris' desk, but neither of the others did. You were hesitant to ask him something so soon, just after the start of the class. You remained seated for a while, however, he seemed to notice your pondering, and when you looked up again, he stood at your table. "What are you working on?" Mr. Norris asked.

"Ehm, well..." You started with a soft laugh. "I started on this, but I don't like it a lot," you admitted, turning your laptop to show him, feeling slightly nervous. He leaned his hands on the table, and your eyes glided over his arms, the veins bulging up over his tanned skin. You were quick to divert your eyes elsewhere. "What don't you like about it?" he asked. "It's too basic. I think it needs more... me" "You." You said at the same time, causing you to laugh softly, and so did he. "Think of something that describes your life, your personality, think of symbols or sayings that mean a lot to you, and try to work that in. You have a great base, so just some more creativity is needed," Professor Norris told you, and you looked into his eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling your face growing hot under his gaze. "Thank you," you choked out, gnawing your teeth into your bottom lip as he gave you a grin. Mr. Norris was young, about your age, and he was doing his internship at your university, and he was undeniably hot.

You were continuing on your project throughout the class, yet you were still not satisfied with the current look of it. You weren't sure what kind of things to design along with it, and you decided to stay behind to ask some more. "Mr. Norris? Would it be okay for me to stay behind for some minutes?" you asked, standing up as the others did so too. "Of course," Lando replied to you, wishing the others a great day and good luck with their projects. Your eyes glided over his appearance once more. You liked that his style was different from the other professors, who were dressed in tight suits. He was young, seemed the have the same mindset as his students, which automatically caused his classes to be so much more fun. The other students now walked out of the classroom, and you picked up your laptop to take it to his desk. "To improve the design I'd like to see it in 3D, but I can't get this programme to work," you sighed.

"You do have the updated version downloaded, right?" Professor Norris asked, moving next to you and glancing at your screen. "Yes," you replied. "Some of the functions are hidden a little, let me try," Lando took your laptop, briefly watching when you leaned back against his desk. The skirt you were wearing looked very flattering on you, but Lando diverted his eyes from your figure. He was distracted by the move you made when leaning against his desk with your hands, pushing your upper body slightly forward, the off-shoulder blouse you were wearing nearly showed the swell of your cleavage. Lando cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he opened the menu on the designing program on your laptop. "Could you get the charger, please?" Lando asked then, the battery was still 30 percent, but he watched you nod and turn around to your bag.

His teeth dug into his lower lip when your skirt floated around your legs, the material riding slightly upwards from the movement when you picked up your bag and got the charger out. "Thanks," Lando muttered. "If you come on my side, I can show you how it works," Lando said then, and you made your way around his desk. He was close to you, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His long fingers were pointing to the screen, making your eyes dart over to them instead. The pull in your lower abdomen worsened each time his hands came in sight, making you squeeze your thighs together subtly. "Is it understandable?" Lando asked. "J-just once more how to activate..." Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers brushed over the back of your thighs. "To activate?" Lando hummed.

Professor Norris rose from his seat, and you looked up at him meanwhile, words stuck in your mouth. "Tell me, darling," he ushered, making a step forward. The back of your thighs hit his desk, and you shuffled onto it. "I-I think it's clear now," you stammered. "Are you sure? You can stay a little longer if you want," Professor Norris replied while his fingertips trailed up your legs, feeling the soft material of your skirt. "Unless I make you uncomfortable," he was quick to add, and you looked into his bright eyes. You shook your head, your lashes fluttering when his lips hovered over yours. "This is so inappropriate," you muttered, feeling his lips on yours. "But you're so pretty, and we're the same age," he replied, giving you a taste of his lips. "My best student," Lando continued, his hands curling around your waist.

"That's not true," you laughed, gnawing down on your bottom lip when his nose nuzzled against your cheek, a sweet peck following. "Always so sweet in the middle row, working so hard," Lando told you, his fingers riding up the material of your blouse, feeling your bare skin. "Let me reward you, darling," his voice was husk, raspy in your ear, and you were addicted to the scent of his cologne that lingered around him. You adored the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your waist. Lando lifted his head and finally kissed your lips, humming lowly when he felt the pressure of your mouth kissing him back. His tongue glided over the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss. You joined the sway of his tongue, feeling your body heating up. Lando shivered lightly when he felt your fingers weaving into the curls in the nape of his neck.

His hands traveled over your lower back to your behind, his palms squeezing your hips before pulling you a little more forward. You whimpered softly when he kissed the corner of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A shiver ran up your spine when he kissed the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling and sucking down your throat while one of his hands slipped under your skirt. "We've got to be quick, my love. Another class will be here in fifteen minutes," Lando apologized. Your mind could barely process what he said as soon as his hand squeezed the apex of your thigh, his fingertips brushing over the lace edge of your panties. You hummed softly when three of Lando's fingers moved over your clothed core. The feeling of your damp panties made him twitch in his jeans, and he started to stimulate your clothed nub of nerve endings to get you soaking. After teasing you shortly, he shoved your panties aside, and you looked down at his hand.

You bunched your skirt up around your waist, watching his fingers flex and the muscles in his arms tightening when he entered you swiftly. Your head fell back with a moan, but his lips were soon back on yours to shush you. "Sssh, be quiet, babe. It's our little secret," Lando whispered against your lips, his fingers curling up against your front wall right away, his thumb circling over your pulsing clit while he created the most delicious rhythm. His fingers stimulated the most sensitive spots, and had you trembling on his desk within a couple minutes. "Such a good girl," Professor Norris praised, watching your eyelids flutter while he felt your walls getting wetter and tighten around his digits. You cursed under your breath, trying your hardest to remain silent while your orgasm ripped through you. Lando licked his fingers clean, undoing his jeans and zipping down the denim.

His underwear was pushed out of the way, and his palm wrapped around his shaft that stood tall. The girth of his cock, the veins running over them, caused your mouth to water. Lando pulled you a little more to the edge of his desk, the round head of his length briefly moving through your folds before he bottomed you out right away. There was no time to go slow, and his pace went to fucking you into his desk with a hard, deep pace that had you nearly whining under the firm grip of his hands on your hips. It was so good, it felt so amazing, raw, hot, and the fact that he's your professor and you're his student nearly tipped you over the edge right away. "That's it, love," Lando grunted lowly when your core contracted around him, walls squeezing him tight. The tip of his cock brushed over your gathering of nerve endings each time, creating the state of frenzy you floated in.

Lando looked down at your blissed out expressions, admiring the furrow of your eyebrows, and your lips parted with soft breaths. Your hands were curled around his lower arms, your nails digging slightly into his skin. The white hot pleasure washed over you soon enough, briefly blurring your vision. The throbbing of his release against your inner walls prolonged the feeling of ecstasy. Lando reached for some tissues, helping you to clean up a little before you pulled your panties up again, and you adjusted your skirt and your blouse. Lando did the same, then moved to open some windows to let in some fresh air, which caused you both to laugh. You went to get your bag, and meanwhile Lando shoved a note your way. "This is my number, in case you need some more help with your project," he said, a grin curling his lips.

"Thanks," you chuckled, taking the note with you. "Maybe we can discuss it over dinner this weekend, you can text me your availability," he continued, approaching you again while you held onto the handles of your bag. "If you want to, of course," he added, his fingers moving under your chin and gently caressing your cheeks. "I'd love to, Professor Norris," you said, your eyes flickering up to his. His jaw slacked briefly before he grinned again. "Great, good luck with your project till then, Y/N," Lando said and walked you to the door. You smiled at him over your shoulder, walking down the hallway. Lando leaned against the door, shaking his head at himself, knowing he was crazy about you whether you were his student or not.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles​​, jess @arrogantstyles​ and wendy @bookwormandtea​ for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

fic page // let’s chat! // cstsyl playlist

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.  

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend. 

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder. 

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.” 

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call. 

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there. 

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.” 

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?” 

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate. 

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up. 

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door. 

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast. 

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully. 

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding. 

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?” 

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states. 

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark. 

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying. 

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.” 

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that. 

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them. 

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him. 

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers. 

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot. 

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick. 

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight. 

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today. 

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day. 

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?” 

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says. 

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.  

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?” 

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been. 

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation. 

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend. 

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously. 

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored. 

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry. 

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases. 

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint. 

“What do you mean?” Tom questions. 

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them. 

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice. 

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says. 

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap. 

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment. 

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains. 

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before. 

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself. 

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.” 

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place. 

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great. 

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap. 

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.” 

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in. 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice. 

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile. 

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not. 

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry. 

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work. 

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call. 

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear. 

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended. 

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear. 

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen. 

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders. 

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?” 

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly. 

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone. 

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her. 

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her. 

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat. 

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers. 

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent. 

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway. 

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states. 

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.” 

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier. 

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were. 

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner. 

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway. 

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat. 

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator. 

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely. 

“You scared me,” she breathes out. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.” 

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states. 

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing. 

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest. 

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender. 

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-” 

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her. 

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry. 

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself. 

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show. 

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?” 

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back. 

“Okay,” she says softly. 

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door. 

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds. 

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile. 

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door. 

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel. 

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second. 

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home. 

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point. 

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen. 

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.” 

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven. 

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat. 

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water. 

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix. 

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.” 

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before. 

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too. 

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels. 

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases. 

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand. 

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was. 

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle. 

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream. 

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth. 

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands. 

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster. 

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is. 

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.  

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course. 

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream. 

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds. 

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate. 

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems. 

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends. 

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod. 

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her. 

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance. 

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states. 

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content. 

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again. 

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target. 

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen. 

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break. 

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response. 

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going. 

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own. 

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier. 

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is. 

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour. 

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions. 

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs. 

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.” 

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit. 

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.” 

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again. 

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do. 

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself. 

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments. 

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out. 

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart. 

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home. 

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time. 

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it. 

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently. 

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits. 

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand. 

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him. 

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in. 

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner. 

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch. 

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her. 

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man. 

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier. 

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry. 

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room. 

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says. 

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again. 

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend. 

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose. 

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again. 

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his. 

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place. 

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch. 

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy. 

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely. 

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle. 

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again. 

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes. 

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says. 

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would. 

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting. 

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed. 

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes. 

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says. 

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open. 

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text. 

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.  

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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[thunderthighs77]

Tendou and Semi Cuckold Part 1

**Part 2** IF THE LINK DOES NOT WORK, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. PART 2 CAN BE FOUND ON MY PAGE RIGHT NOW ANYWAY  

CW/TW for Pt. 1: Fem Reader x Tendou + Semi, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mentions of weed, cursing, vaginal play, smoking weed.

Y/N comes home from college to her bf’s house. He’s rooming with Semi, who’s always had eyes for Y/N. That doesn’t bother Tendou. In fact, it excites him...

(Basically, Tendou is lead dom here)

CW/TW for BOTH PARTS: Fem Reader x Tendou + Semi, spit roast (tag team), double penetration, voyeurism, exhibitionism, vaginal/anal play, shotgunning, (smoke), oral sex (giving), mentions of weed, cursing, pussy rubbing?, whining, creampie, praise/degradation kink.

18+ MINORS DNI

You were so fed up with midterms. 5 exams this week. 5 e x a m s. You just wanted to go home and get away from this fucking campus. You left your class and checked back into your dorm to empty out your book bag of notebooks onto the floor.

You pack a few clothes and your wallet. Your roommate had left for the weekend to her girlfriend’s house and so, you locked the door and left. You took the 11 up west to where you lived and walked home with your headphones on. 

You stopped in front of a mini market and figured your parents hadn’t cooked dinner since they worked nights. It was already evening time, so you decided “what the hell.” You walked in and walked out with some instant ramen, a bag of jerky, and a Reeses, Tendou’s favorite candy. 

Speak of the devil, your phone buzzed. It was Tendou asking if your midterms went well.

“They were fine. Thanks for asking, babe. I’m home rn” You typed as you bit a chunk out of the piece of meat. 

“Ooo. Want me to pick you up tonight?”, he texted. 

You were really close to home. The market was just down the street. As you made it to your front gate, you saw a note at the front that said, “Gone for the weekend. Say hi to Tendou from us if you decide to stay over.” 

“Say less!” You shout happily. 

“No, I’m heading over rn,” you type quickly. Tendou was also nearby your house. You walked down the quiet neighborhood as you ate your jerky and listened to your vaporwave. It was rarely a nice day in March; a good 68 degrees. Odd in the early spring where you lived, but a nice change from the dreadful winter you had suffered during the fall semester. 

You knocked at the front door and was greeted by a tall blonde face you recognized from your boyfriend’s high school volleyball team. He has on some black sweats and a white tank. He opened the door while his head was turned to the side, completely focused on the volleyball game on t.v. “Hey, Y/N,” he said as he just turned his head for a second before it swung back the side to focus on the t.v. He stepped aside as you walked past him. 

You walked in to the faint smell of weed, smoked probably a few hours ago. You set the grocery back down and hung your jacket at the front. The house was dark. It was 6:43 pm to be fair, the sun had almost fully disappeared. The tv’s glare and Tendou’s computer screen were the only source of light at the moment. 

You walked to where Tendou was sitting. Shirtless and in some grey sweats, he was shouting in his headset. “Come on, you motherfucker! He’s right there!”, he shouted as he pointed to the computer screen at his game. He felt your warm hug around him and he looked back and leaned into your kiss. 

“Hey baby,” he said. He turned back and yelled to the set again, “Come on, you dick! Oh my fucking-” 

You chuckled and backed away to let him continue playing. Semi was on the couch and glued to the game on the tv. His knees were spread and you climbed over to sit down on the other side of the couch. Your passing did not faze him at all. He kept his focus on the game. “Yes!”, Semi shouted as the whistle blew on the tv. It was some random college game. You sighed and scrolled through your phone. 

The coffee table in front of the tv was messy. An ashtray of burnt out cigarettes and blunts, leaves of weed sprinkled throughout, and empty beer and redbull cans. Keys, wallets, a few bills here and there, and a charging PS4 controller. 

You shut off your phone and asked. “Can we order some takeout?” You figure the 2 packets of ramen weren’t enough to feed all three of you, and you knew Tendou nor Semi couldn't cook, or even have food in the fridge, except for drinks and the occasional condiment or two. 

Tendou sighed in relief at the screen as “YOU WON” appeared in green and he took his headset. “Sure, babe,” he said as he held the power button to shut off the computer. “Semi, do you mind takeout?”, Tendou asked. Semi shook his head no. You walk over to the kitchen and try to find a menu. “That place over on 5th is really good,” you shout back to them. 

You get no response as you burrow through Tendou’s messy kitchen drawers. You can’t find any takeout menu as you look through them. “Babe?”, you call out. “What?”, Tendou calls out from the living room. “Where are the take out menus? They’re not in the kitchen.” 

“Check the bedroom, hun,” Tendou said. You swish your lips as your stomach growls. That jerky wasn't enough to hold you. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Exams ran through your lunch period so you were starved the whole day. You look through Tendou’s room and into his closet to find a pile of menus. “What the hell are these doing here?”, you ask yourself. 

You get a pile of your favorite restaurants’ takeout menus and flip through them, trying to find your favorite one. Suddenly, you felt a finger slide right between your folds and you yelp. Tendou wrapped his elbow right on top of your breasts and held you in a choke hold. He continued to slide his finger in between your folds on the outskirts of your tights, and then two fingers. 

You bite your lips and roll your eyes back. Tendou chuckles and sinks his kisses right under your ear. You close your thighs, tightening his fingers and making him rub your clit more. You bend your knees and grind against his groin, him following the motion and grinding back with you.

It has been 3 months without sex since winter break. No orgasm whatsoever. You couldn’t even touch yourself in the dorms. Senior year was brutal with classes and internships. You were just exhausted and starved. Tendou let go of his chokehold and cupped one of your breasts. “Jesusss,” he hissed and he kissed your cheeks and squeezed it. 

“Tendou,” you let out in a breathy moan. “We gotta...eat…” You could barely form a sentence. “I missed you so much, baby,” Tendou says in your ear. His fingers are going ham in between your folds. He stops and pulls you by your arm and pins them behind your back with one hand while he bends you over the dresser. Your tights were thin, and therefore, made your pussy easy access. 

Tendou took his index, middle, and ring fingers and rubbed your pussy from the back. You let out a few tiny moans and close your eyes at the feeling. You quiver and throw your head back. 

“Where is my charger?” Semi asked himself as he looked around the outlets in the living room. “Ah shit!” He realized it’s in Tendou’s bedroom since he needed it last night. Semi walked over only to stop at the door. It was slightly cracked open and he heard moans. He figured you and Tendou needed some alone time. 

Semi turned away and wanted to wait until you two were finished. “Ahhh fuuuck!”, you shouted in such a pretty whine. Semi paused in his steps. He looked to the side and sighed. “Just a peek,” he told himself. He turned back and looked into the door. The tent in his pants was pitched just from your moan. 

Lord, were you a sight. He knew you were his best friend’s girl...but damn...you can’t blame him. You were just his type, and you were always over during winter break. He could hear your moans all the time. And he didn’t mind. You were fun to listen to. He always jerked off to your moans at night. And whenever he had sex with his one night stands, your vision was what he saw sometimes. It haunted him. He felt so guilty being Tendou’s friend knowing he had such thoughts. 

“HAHAHAHA!” Tendou let out a belly laugh as he threw his head back when Semi opened up to his best friend about his guilty conscience. Tendou took an inhale of his blunt and blew it out with another slight chuckle and a sigh. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious, man. I feel awful. And I’m so sorry,” Semi said sentimentally. Tendou shook his head and smiled. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tendou asked. Semi made a confused face. Tendou smiled and scratched his forehead with his blunt still in his hand. “You see….” he began as he leaned in. “I like to...how do I say this…” he paused as he began to think his words carefully.

“I know my girl is hot, Semi. I know guys look at her all the time. I don’t worry, though. In fact, it’s kind of hot to think everyone wants her, but only I get to have her.” Tendou wasn’t wrong. Every event you came to for their high school, like a volleyball meet or an elegant sports dinner, a lot of guys were over you. Not to mention, Tendou always asked for you to wear tight cocktail dresses or ones that showed off your tits or ass a little. He got off on guys eyeing you as you walked in. 

He watched from a distance as guys would ask you, “Can I buy you a drink?” “Can I hold your coat?” “Can I get your number?” Nothing dangerous or unwelcomed, of course. Both you and Tendou liked the attention. And Tendou was always there to make sure everything went well, as he swooped you in last minute and gave you a deep kiss in front of all the guys, making them sigh in despair as they knew you were taken.

Tendou smiled as he watched Semi’s mouth gaped in confusion. “I still don’t get it. You’re not mad at me?” Tendou shook his head as he inhaled his blunt. Semi began to stutter; “But...but...but I imagine Y/n-”

“Don’t you get it?”, Tendou said as he cut him off and leaned in. “It turns me on, Semi. I get hard thinking someone likes Y/n.” Smoke escaped Tendou’s nostrils as he smirked. Semi backed away, almost disgusted.

 “How?”, he asked, horrified. Tendou leaned back into his chair and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just hot. I know she’ll always be mine. But, I always had a fetish of her fucking someone in front of me. Or at least a threesome, you know? What’s that shit called?” 

“Cuckolding?”, Semi asked. “That’s it!”, Tendou shouted joyfully at Semi recalling the word he forgot. 

Semi shook his head at the past conversation he had with Tendou. He was leaking pre cum from his pants as he watched you quiver at Tendou’s hands. “Se-Semiiii!“, you let out whined. “Ah fuck,” Semi whispers as he grabs his hardened crotch. 

“What’s that, baby?”, Tendou asked as he leaned in your ear. “Se-Semi might hear,” you whine as you furrow your eyebrows and close your eyes at Tendou’s pace. Tendou smirks and looks up in the mirror and at the doorway. He sees a figure moving in the lit hallway. He forms a cheshire grin. 

Semi freezes in fear, but then realizes Tendou is probably loving this. Tendou smiles in the mirror while glaring at Semi and rubs your pussy faster. You quiver and release yourself from Tendou’s grasp and grip the sides of the dresser. Your head is pressed down by Tendou’s hand and you tremble from your orgasm creeping on you. 

You beg and ask for permission. “Oh god! Pleaseeee! Please, sir! Please!” Semi is pulling on his crotch outside the door, thanking Tendou telepathically for leaving a slight crack in the door to peek at this show. Semi was full on hard, and he whipped his cock out and stroked it as he watched you melt in Tendou’s hands.

Tendou suddenly pulled away at your dismay. “Fuck!”, you yell out. “No,” Tendou said sternly as he smiled. Semi realized Tendou had just edged the both of you. Tendou’s fingers were pruned, and a bit sticky from your wet pussy. Your juices had leaked through your thin panties and tights, and onto his fingers. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and caught a whiff of your heat he had just violated. 

You slide down to the floor and breathe heavily. Your clit was pulsating, beating rapidly, like a heartbeat. Your hair was a mess and your face was flushed red. Tendou knelt down to your height and kissed you. “Nice to have you home, baby.” You smile and let out sighs before you see a shadow move in the hallway. You gasp as Semi suddenly disappears. Tendou looks back and smiles. He stands back over you and lends a hand to help you stand up. 

“The menu was on top of the fridge, baby. “ You smiled gently as you exited the bedroom first and entered the hallway into the living room. Semi was on the couch with a pillow on his lap and scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Tendou was on the phone while you sat down next to Semi. You looked over at his flushed face. How cute. 

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s field trip. Part 1

Warnings: Trans!Peter, Spidypool, sex references, superfamily, transphobia, supportive avengers

Tony POV

I was in my lab waiting for Peter, my newly adopted son, to come home from school when Friday told me I had an email from Peters school. Turning to my phone I opened the email and was completely annoyed. The email read

'Dear Parent/Carer of Patricia Parker,

We are delighted to inform you that we have a surprise field trip for the student to none other than Stark Laboratories. The trip with be a residential starting on March 7th with a trip to Stark Tower, staying the night there with Mr Tony Stark-Rodgers and then having a trip to the Avengers Tower where we will have the opportunity to meet the Avengers and ask them questions. This is a once in a life time opportunity and we hope you allow your daughter to attend. Also, we would like to keep the trip as a surprise for the student so we urge you not to tell them the destinations of the trip.

Yours Sincerely,

Mrs Robbins.'

I was livid. My child Peter is a boy. I do not have a daughter I have a son. I couldn't believe the nerve of this teacher so I stormed out of my lab and in to the main living area of the penthouse and saw my handsome husband lay on the couch watching tv. He looked so calm and collected but I feel this might change.

"Honey, I just got this email from Peters school that I think you should have a look at." I told him handing him my phone.

He looked confused at first but then the anger set in and by time my phone was placed back in my hand he had an evil smirk on his face. I had an idea of why he had that smirk but just to be sure I asked him,

"What's the smirk for?" I asked.

"Tell the teacher our son can go on the trip while I make a few phone calls. Nobody purposely misgenders my son and gets away with it." He is trusted before grabbing his cell phone and walking down the corridor to one of the training room. Probably going to blow off a little steam and anger. Might watch in a little while.

After a second I simply responded to the email stating'

I as Peters legal guardian allow my son to attend this field trip. Is there any additional information that we should be aware of?' It seemed like the appropriate response.

In all honesty I had Pepper invite the school to the towers as a reward for how well they did at the decathlon competition. I was not expecting to receive an email like this.

-5 hours later-

Peter arrived home shortly after the email incident and was greeted to everyone being in the room. Everyone being Me, Cap, Bucky, Nat, Banner, Pepper, Sam, T'Challa, Shuri, Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, Thor, Loki, Clint and Strange along with the Guardians on a Skype call on the tv. We told him it was a spur of the moment gathering as well all missed each other, not an entire lie, but in reality we were plotting to a) embarrass Peter as much as possible on the field trip and b) get back at the teacher for what they did.

We decided to order enough pizza for an entire 3rd world country and discuss Peter's school life as we ate.

"So Peter, has anyone been giving you trouble lately in School? You can tell us the truth." Steve, Peter's other father and my husband, asked.

"No everything just fine." He terribly lied.

"Come on kid. I've known you for almost two years now, don't try and lie. If there's anyone giving you any type of shit for whatever reason please know that you can tell us." I explained to him all of a sudden getting very serious. I could see him fighting with himself on weather to tell us something or not but decided not to as he then said he had homework to do and went to his room.

"So, he's either lying or the teacher isn't as bad as we think." Loki observed.

"No, he was lying. I could feel his conflict and pain in remembrance of what people have said to him. I'm not one for violence but someone needs to pay for what he's been dealing with." Wanda told us with tears in her eyes.

Cap and Barton walked over to comfort her and hopefully stop her crying. My blood started boiling, Wanda was a strong person and if what Peter's going through brings her to tears then that's a lot for one person to go through. What else has this teacher or student done? Why won't he tell us? Does he not trust us? That last question broke my heart.

"Baby, you okay?" I hear Steve ask moving towards me and holding both my hands in his.

"No. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at any one who hurt my son. I'm pissed at us for not making sure he knows he can talk to us. And I'm pissed at the world for making his go through all of this." I told him with tears coming to my eyes.

Steve pulled me close to my chest and held me tight. He stroked his hands through my hair as he tried to calm me down. I could tell he was mad to, we all were, but he was trying to hold it in despite everyone being here to essentially punish this teacher was his idea. Embarrassing Peter was mine.

"Right, so what do we do about this? I'm not letting anyone hurt my nephew and get away with it." Nat said sitting up and pulling a knife from who knows where to sharped her nails. That women scares me so much.

"How about we just drop in during the day and make sure one of us is always with him. If he has one of us always there and we make it apparent that we know and support him the I doubt even someone as bigoted as his teacher is going to say something. Then we can embarrass him when we're with him." Sam suggested.

"I like that. Where are we all going to be stationed?" Loki asked.

"Well if I speak to the tour guide I could get Banner to give them a lesson on Gamma radiation as the first. Then, Barton or somebody drops in. After that they will be taken to a different lab with Shuri and T'Challa. By that time it should be lunch where Thor and Loki could drop in and the guardians land near the level 7 outside cafeteria. Then we can have Sam drop some stuff from above like a water balloon or something and Bucky bake his favourite cookies to bring to him. After Lunch they're looking around some other labs where Shuri could also be along with Banner. I think they're also going to be visiting the training rooms so Nat, Cap, Bucky and T'Challa could be fighting and Wanda, Vision and Strange could be training their magic." I suggested feeling better now that we were planning this.

March 6th

-Peter's POV-

I was in Chemistry faintly heading the teacher, Mrs Robbins, drone on and on about ionic bonding and how it differs to covalent bonding. It was something I already knew so I didn't need to listen until Ned started hitting my arm. Turning to look at him he simply nodded to the direction of the teacher. I turned around just to catch two words that made my heart drop.

"-Field trip!" Our teacher cheered with a big smile on her face.

Field trip? To where and why?

"That's right, we have organised a surprise field trip for you all as a reward for how well you've all done on your recent exams. Only the top 20 student of the entire school will have the privilege of going. The destination will be a surprise but I will say to bring an overnight bag and money for food and such. You're parents have already got an email consenting for your attendance and the bus will be leaving at 8am tomorrow so don't be late." She further explained.

The whole surprise field trip thing made me nervous beyond all belief. I may not technically be a Parker anymore but the luck definitely followed me and the idea of having to go on an overnight field trip made me terrified. Also, our parents got an email. This means that either Dad (Tony) or Pops (Steve) knew about this probably weeks ago and didn't tell me, this only fulled my anxiety.

Soon the bell went signalling the end of the day and our temporary liberation from this educational prison. On the way out Mrs Robins pulled me aside. It confused me at first until she put our most recent test infront of me. My name circled in big red circles, I know what's about to happen.

"Patricia, you must stop this. You're name is not Peter, you're not a boy. You were born a girl and therefore are, there is no picking and choosing with what God gave you. You must understand this by now. This little joke has gone too far that you're name has been requested to change on our register. Get it through you're head that you are not a boy and you will go to hell for thinking otherwise. One more incident like this and you'll have detention for the rest of the year. Got it?" She basically shouted at me pointing to my circled name on the test.

"No. My name is Peter and I am a boy, I don't care what God assigned me because he got it wrong. I am a boy and my name is Peter as we have gotten it legally changed." I rebutted getting impatient with her ignorance.

"Don't speak to me like that young man. You have no right to change Gods idea and destiny for you. Just thing, you're a girl meaning you can have kids and spread God's message to others and have many kids. Just what God planned for all women." She told me trying to sound sweet but came off and incredibly patronising.

At this point I was too angry to listen to her bulls**t (Gotta keep it Steve friendly people) so I stormed out the room. She started yelling for me to come back to the classroom but I didn't listen and continued walking till I reached the car Happy was in to take me home.

I got in the car and started telling Happy about my day while playing classic songs on my phone such as Highway to Hell, You gave love a bad name and Living on a Prayer. He pretended like he didn't care but I could tell he was listening and hanging onto every word I was saying. I love that about Happy, he acts like he doesn't care but in reality he does and he does a lot. He once caught Flash saying stuff about me and threatened to hit him with the car, he almost did as well but we were running late to a meeting I had to go to with Dad. Of course that didn't stop Flash as he still likes to torment me daily but he now does it more secretly making it more bearable.

We soon made it home and I found all of my dysfunctional family,minus the guardians who were on a Skype call, sat in the living room watching a movie on the tv. I quickly set my bag down on the kitchen island and settled right next to Tony (Dad) who was cuddling Cap (Pops). Everyone was asking me questions about my day and school life in general. They focused mostly on if people were bullying on me. It worried me a little because as much as I know I can go to them, I don't want to because I know that if I tell them everything that's happened they'll kill people and I don't want that for my family. Half of them only just got pardoned and I don't want the governments to revoke that.

"Sorry guys but I got homework. The pizza was delicious, is it okay if I invite Wade around?" I pleaded with Pops knowing he's more likely to say yes.

"Yes but that door stays open hound man. Do I make myself clear?" Pops asked in a stern voice.

"Crystal." I responded before taking out my phone to call Wade, grabbed my bag and walked to my room.

"Hey Baby Boy, what's up?" Wade asked after picking up his phone.

"Not much, Pops said you could come around." I told him making him slightly squeal.

"Okay Baby Boy, I'll be there in 10 minutes. I love you." Wade informed.

"I love you to Babe." I said before hanging up with a smile on my face.

-10 minutes later-

I was sat at my desk finishing my algebra homework when I heard someone knock on the window. Knowing it was Wade I turned with a smile on my face and let him in.

"Hey Baby Boy, how was your day?" Wade asked making himself comfortable on my bed.

"It was fine, quite boring if I'm honest. We did get told about this residential field trip tomorrow though. Sorry I won't be here for most of the weekend. I'm sure my Dads will love having you around." I joked sitting on his lap and cuddling into his chest.

"It's fine Pete. I'll just have to savour our time together now." He said wiggling his eyebrows and kissing me passionately.

"My Pops said to keep the door open." I told him pulling away with a massive blush spread across my cheeks.

"Does that rule apply to your en-suite?" Wade asked.

"I don't believe so." I answered getting up from his lap and dragging him into my en-suite, which is where we stayed for the rest of the night.

To be continued...

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 1

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.4 k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

It absolutely didn’t take you by surprise when your moving day turned out to be the hottest day of the year in Chicago. Not one single shadow spending cloud was to be seen, the temperatures felt like standing next to an actual volcano and your so called ‚friends‘ called off from helping one after one. It all got your blood boiling and made you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it.

Instead you pushed it into the pocket of your pants, brushed some sweaty hair out of your face and continued unloading the first box out of the moving van you had rented.

Before you entered the building you would live in from today on, you took a good look at it. It was a rather spontaneous decision to move in. When you told your college friend, Christina, that your current living situation was very complicated, she offered you a free room in her apartment.

She was living with a lot of people. It would be eight people in total by tonight when you had moved in. For your liking, that was maybe a little bit too many roommates, but you rather took that, than live with your ex-boyfriend any longer.

You climbed up three flights of stairs and with each one the box in your hands got heavier. Knowing, that there were so many more boxes in the van that had to be brought up, made you want to sit down and have a beer already.

There was only one door on the third floor, which also appeared to be the last story of this building. That must be it. You rang the door bell and instantly heard some voices discuss about who would open the door.

A guy with some friendly eyes opened. „You must be Y/N!“ He stepped aside for you to enter the apartment. „I’m Uriah.“

„Are you on your own?“ You didn’t really get a proper chance to introduce yourself because Christina came rushing to Uriah’s side and gave you a brief hug, ignoring your sweaty body. She seemed truly offended by you being alone. Though, she was rather offended by your friends who weren’t there to help you even though they said they would.

You just shrugged and tried to take in the surroundings of your new home. Christina already told you that the apartment covered the whole story, therefore it had a lot of rooms that sheltered a lot of people.

It was a pretty opened concept. The big kitchen space flowed over into a living area and the other way around. Around the center piece, a huge dining table, were sitting three people, chatting the afternoon away. Christina and the guy, who had introduced himself as Uriah, joined the group again. She introduced you to Will, her boyfriend who you already knew from a lot of conversations, and the second couple in this apartment: Tris and Four.

„One roommate is missing, he’s… I don’t know where,“ said Christina and gestured for the remaining people to get up from their chairs. „Are we okay to help you with your stuff?“

She asked as if you had truly something to disagree with her offer. „You would be my life savers,“ you confessed. The help of your new roommates was genuine. The first bonding with them happened through carrying up your heavy boxes three flights of stairs, ranting over the heat and laughing about it because somehow you got along with them very well. Maybe after all the crap that had happened, this could be a good restart.

Christina offered to drive along with her car to the rental station and take you back to the apartment after dropping of the van. You didn’t have a car yourself and her offer was music in your ears. After that hot day and the physical exhaustion, you really didn’t want to ride your bicycle all the way from the rental place to your new home.

On your way back to the apartment, you asked Christina to stop at a pizza shop. You wanted to grab some dinner for your new roommates, and yourself, after they saved your ass with carrying your stuff all the way up to your new apartment.

When you placed the pizzas on the dining table, where everyone was still sitting at, every hesitation, if they had some at all about you moving in, was gone. Someone who brought pizza was very welcomed to move in.

Even though you were exhausted to your bones, the pizza gave you a small power boost, to continue with some more work after dinner. Before crashing on your mattress tonight, you wanted to unpack some of the stuff still. To your luck, Christina and Tris helped a little with your clothes and setting up a makeshift desk. At some point they left to go to bed. Way past midnight you felt your body giving out rapidly. You needed a shower. And sleep.

Right across from your room was the bathroom. There was still light in the hallway and you heard noises from the living area. The bathroom door was slightly open and you sleepily opened it completely to enter and shut it behind you.

The tiredness in your brain was suddenly gone when you faced a naked man getting out of the shower. You looked at him in shock and all you were able to say was: „What are you doing here?“

„What does it look like?“ He didn’t really hurry up to grab a towel and cover himself. There was too much time passing until a towel finally covered his lower half. Too much time for you to see, well, everything.

When the first shock subsided, you pulled yourself together, and looked at his face. This guy hadn’t been there all day. Still, you knew him.

„What are you doing here,“ you repeated your question in disbelief, this time with a small addition, though, „Eric?“

„I live here. What are you doing here?“

Fuck. No. Please not. „I guess we are roommates then,“ you stated in frustration.

„You are Christina’s friend moving in?“ He grabbed a second towel to dry his hair and looked at your from a weird angle. „Life’s just not fair to me.“

„Tell me about it.“

There you were. Standing in the small bathroom of your new apartment with Eric Coulter. Who lived here as well. You contemplated going back to the rental station immediately, get a van and remove your stuff before you unpacked completely. This was a nightmare. Since starting your first semester, Eric was the pain in your neck you were constantly clashing with. Whenever you started a constructive discussion about a topic, he was the one to drive you verbally crazy. There was no debate he missed and sometimes, you thought, he had taken it a personal mission to piss you off. Because even when he had the same opinion on something, he still had to prove you otherwise.

It had been dislike at first sight.

„Are you done in here then?“

„Why should I be?“ Eric’s discipline to make life more complicated for you was nothing you could deal with right now. Not after the day you had.

„Fine. Whatever,“ you mumbled. Instantly, you regretted opening the bathroom door – a shower had been so necessary – but dealing with Eric right now wasn’t worth it. The few steps across the hallway later, you stumbled over some of the boxes in your room, tripped and fell right on to your mattress. Grumbling, you turned around and saw Eric in the bathroom door inaudibly laughing at you. With your last energy, you slammed the door shut and collapsed back on the mattress. His stupid, grinning face was the last you had in mind before falling into a deep sleep.

/////

The next morning, after sleeping like a baby, you made sure to first take a glance into the bathroom before entering. No Eric. You locked the door, undressed and breathed out in relief when the water hit your skin. The warm water washed away all of yesterdays sweat, soaked your hair and made you feel like a human again.

The water temperature suddenly changed from hot to freezing. Hearing the toilet flush go off indicated why. You peaked out from behind the shower curtain and saw Eric readjust his boxer shorts.

„I locked the door!“ You whisper-screamed at him.

Eric went to wash his hands. At least you’re washing your hands, you thought. „I had to pee.“ He winked at you, left the bathroom and turned the lock into position again when he was back in the hallway. Great, not even a lock can keep him out.

With fresh clothes and still wet hair, you made your way for the kitchen. Your roommates were gathered at the huge dining table, Eric included, and had an awesome looking breakfast. It was ten on a Sunday morning, you didn’t expect all of them to be up yet.

Some ‚good mornings‘ welcomed you and assigned you the seat right across from Eric. Of course.

„How did you sleep?“ Christina poured you a coffee and tried to add milk and sugar but you were able to fetch it from here while it was still black.

„Good,“ you answered with a ‚thank you‘.

„This is Eric, by the way. The roommate you didn’t meet yesterday.“

Your glance went from her bright eyes to Eric, who stared at you like he had only now registered you sitting across from him. „We had the pleasure already,“ you stated and took a long sip, not breaking eye contact with him.

He was the first one to look away, which made you sink back in your chair with a winning grin on your lips.

During breakfast your roommates instructed you on how this living together worked. Who cleaned when and what, what team is when doing the weekly grocery haul and why you don’t flush the toilet when someone is taking a shower. When Uriah mentioned that, you turned your head to Eric and caught his glance. He didn’t seem to be impressed by your death stare.

Christina offered to help again with unpacking after breakfast. Still within the second she closed the door to your room, she popped the question. „Do you and Eric know each other?“

You groaned. „Kinda,“ you said as you turned to look at her. „Do you remember me constantly complaining about a guy in one of my classes who’s always driving me crazy?“

„That’s Eric?“ Christina’s face went blank and her jaw dropped. She flung the door open and entered, without knocking, the room next to yours – Eric’s room. You could hear his voice telling her to get out and knock the next time. Christina replied something but you couldn’t understand it. Was she telling him to stop his bullshit debates with you, now that you were living here? You couldn’t tell, even though you pressed an ear to the wall. They were both talking, but too quietly for you to understand a word.

You still wondered about that incident a week later. Christina just didn’t come back after bursting into Eric’s room. And he wasn’t to be seen ever since. Like he had just vanished. Which he didn’t because you could hear him come into his room late at night and leave it early in the mornings. Summer break meant he didn’t leave for classes and it bugged you that you even thought about this so much. You shouldn’t care. At all.

You did care.

„Chris?“ You knocked on hers and Will’s door. Will answered to ‚come in‘. You opened their door and only saw him laying on the floor in front of a fan. The heat was still very prominent. Instead of asking where Christina was, you asked him if he was fine.

„Totally fine. Just very hot.“

„Same,“ you replied, regretting it a little to not having asked Christina if there was air conditioning in the apartment before you moved in.

„Christina is out with Uriah. Doing the weekly grocery haul. Uriah jumped in for me,“ Will rolled around to lay on his stomach and looked at you with a dramatic expression on his face, „I just couldn’t. Too. Hot.“

With an amused smile you closed the door again and went to the kitchen to get some more water. Even though it was summer break, you still did a lot for college. There was a study you had engaged in and wanted to work on further. Sitting back down at your desk, you lost yourself in analysing the newest data that had come in.

You didn’t know for how long he stood there in silence until you noticed him. Eric leaned in your opened doorframe and observed what you were doing. You turned to him in your chair.

„Can I help you with something, Mr. Invisible?“ You really really wanted to know if you had done something wrong for him to disappear so completely from the apartment. Within the next second, all the exhausting memories of debates with him came back and you were feeling a little less guilty. Still, you wanted to know.

„Just wanted to let you know that, whatever Christina might have told you, is not true.“

„What’s that supposed to mean?“

„That it’s not true.“

„What is not true?“

„My reasons for always debating with you.“ Eric’s look was puzzled and he tried to understand the confusion on your face. Or his own confusion. Then his eyes widened a little. „Wait, she didn’t talk to you?“

„Talk to me about why you’re such a pain in my neck? No!“ You wished she would’ve. For the last week you had tried to question her about that incident but she always managed to change the topic. Wait… „What are those reasons?“

„There are no reasons. And if there are any,“ he grew uncomfortable, „they are just not true.“

„You confuse me,“ you stated.

„Great,“ Eric replied. „At least once I managed to do that after never being able to do so in our debates.“ He left. Just left and let you sit in your room with a thousand question marks in your head.

Christina wouldn’t get a single minute of peace when she got home. Not until she told you what had happened a week ago. Even if you had to kidnap her on your bike to a donut shop and sugar-shock her to get information. You would get information. That was for sure.

/////

to be continued

[is-it-art-tho]

This is Chapter 9!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.   Chapter 7. Chapter 8.

Summary: Dick begins the healing process.

By all accounts, Dick should not have survived.

That was what he gleaned from murmured conversations between nurses and snippets of news coverage. His medical records had filled in some blanks, too.

Concussion, multiple fractures, internal hemorrhaging, lacerations, cardiac arrest.

Cardiac arrest. The words had played on a loop in his head ever since his doctor had first said them, and even now Dick couldn’t quite make any sense of it.

The doctor had smiled at him afterwards, informed him of how lucky he was to be alive. “Usually when someone goes into cardiac arrest in the field, they don’t even make it to the hospital,” she’d said. “Good thing Batman was there, huh?”

“Batman?”

“Mhm. EMTs saw him. He must have been doing CPR before they got there.”

“Hm,” was all Dick had offered in response, but internally he had clung to those minor details like a drowning man grasping at driftwood.

The majority of that night was lost to him. Listening to the news helped somewhat, but reporters only knew so much. And none of the others – Barbara, Tim, any of them – had been very forthcoming, either.

Dick hadn’t pressed, though. The haunted look in their eyes whenever they came to visit him in the hospital had been enough for him to decide never to bring that night up again. He already hated that he might have inadvertently become added fodder for future nightmares; no need to throw gas on the fire.

He could live with not-knowing what had happened if it meant keeping them from reliving it.

“Richard?”

The young voice dragged Dick’s gaze away from the curtains he’d been staring at to the doorway. He’d been back at the manor for nearly two days now, in bed mostly, and in that time he had yet to see Damian except for the ride back from the hospital.

Now the boy was standing at the threshold with a tea service in his hands, his mouth curled in an uncertain frown. “Am I… interrupting?”

Dick smirked and made a show of looking around the empty bedroom. “Yeah. I’m pretty swamped here, as you can see.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I know, but it was a dumb question, anyway. You know you’re never interrupting, Damian. C’mon.” Dick waved him in with a jerk of his chin then froze and winced as a jolt of pain shot up his spine and into his head.

Damian entered stiffly and set the tray on the bedside table, shoving aside pill bottles and a glass of water.

“Damian?” Dick asked after what felt like a long pause. Damian’s eyes were locked on the tea set, his face scrunched in a way that made him look nervous and uncomfortable and young.

Dick reached out with his good hand and tugged on the boy’s sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Damian snapped, pulling his arm out of reach. He scowled at a bookshelf. “Drake is having a difficult time.”

“Tim?” Dick tried to push himself more upright and quickly aborted that mission with a hiss when he felt a sharp tug at the sutures across his abdomen. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“He blames himself for what happened. For not locating you sooner.”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him talking to Stephanie.”

“Aw, Tim.” Tim had been noticeably distant, it was true, but Dick had interpreted it as general anxiety about the whole situation. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Tim had managed to convince himself this was his fault.

Damian muttered something, hands now shoved into his pockets.

“What?”

“I said he is a fool. To act as if he is the one who…” Damian swallowed hard, glowering at the carpet.

Birds were gathering and chirping in a bush by the open window, and though the curtains were drawn to protect Dick’s concussed brain from harsh light, hazy beams still found their way in, spilling across the floor and along the foot of the bed.

“He is not the one to blame,” Damian finished.

“No one is.” Dick couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or his injuries that were making this conversation so hard to follow, but he felt like he was missing something, straggling two steps behind. “At least, not any of you.”

Damian looked at him with open disbelief. “I failed you, Richard. If not for my ineptitude, you wouldn’t have– I should have gone with you when you left that night. None of this would have happened if I had just–”

“Stop.” Dick had meant it to be firm, but the word sounded more like a plea. His head was really pounding now, and keeping the pain out of his voice was becoming increasingly difficult. “You can’t let yourself start doing that or else you’ll never stop. It was a freakish, sucky thing that none of us could have anticipated and therefore probably couldn’t have avoided, either. And yeah, maybe if you had been there it wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe something worse would’ve happened instead. We don’t know and we never will, but what I do know is that you did the best you could in the moment.”

“And it was not good enough.”

“Damian–”

“It is my job to be good enough,” Damian maintained. “If I can’t protect you then…” He let the rest go unsaid, his lips pressing together as his eyes glistened. “I am supposed to be able to protect you.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about.

“Damian,” Dick tried again, and what was meant to be a sigh turned into a low groan as his ribs refused to cooperate.

Damian tensed, wide-eyed.

“We’re good. I’m okay,” Dick promised before the boy could sound the alarms. Then, “I’m not Batman anymore, Damian. You’re not my Robin. You don’t have to put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

And again, Damian gave him a look like Dick still just wasn’t getting it, like he missing something glaring and obvious and not worth explaining except to say, “Yes, I do, Richard.”

Dick started to say something, but Damian continued, “You are saying that excessive self-reproach is counter-productive. I understand the sentiment. And I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He turned to the tea service and begin pouring a cup, his entire demeanor changed, suddenly casual . “How is your pain?”

“I…” Dick paused, once again feeling off balance and too slow as the tone and subject of the discussion switched so suddenly. “A four.”

“So, a seven,” Damian deduced, taking one of the pill bottles from the nightstand and opening it after checking the label. “Alfred said if it is above a five then you are to take two of these.”

Dick considered fighting him on this, reluctant to lose the rest of the morning to a drug-fueled haze, but the pulsing ache beneath his skull and the one radiating through his ribs made it difficult. He let Damian tip the capsules into his open palm and threw them back without complaint.

“You got anything planned this morning?” Dick asked, accepting the cup the tea Damian held out.

“Nothing important.”

“Great.” Dick reached across his chest with his good arm to pat the open space in the bed beside him.

After a brief hesitation, Damian circled the mattress and climbed in, his movements so careful that Dick hardly jostled at all.

“What language are you on right now?” Dick asked, settling back into the pillows. It might have been psychosomatic, but already he was feeling drowsy.

“Hungarian.”

“Huh. What happened to Korean?”

“Too easy. I finished that a week ago,” Damian said dismissively, though there was a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Dick chuckled. “Show-off. How far along are you?”

“More or less conversational.”

“Nice.” Dick’s eyes were closed now. “Show me something.”

“I am not circus monkey, Richard.”

“Y’know, I grew up in the circus,” Dick mumbled. “The monkeys were my favorite. Miss those little guys.”

He thought he heard Damian sigh – or maybe it was a laugh – before the boy asked, “What do you want to hear?”

“That song Bruce hums all the time. The one he sings when he thinks he’s alone. What’s it called?”

Damian’s voice sounded muffled and far away when he answered, “Am I Blue.”

“Yeah. That.”

Damian cleared his throat and began to recite the lyrics in near-perfect Hungarian. He paused occasionally to search for a word, at times reversing to correct a conjugation before moving on.

Dick was almost completely gone now. The bed had fallen away, and he felt like he was floating through the air with Damian’s voice as a welcome backdrop.

He didn’t notice the quiet chatter had stopped until Damian asked, “Richard?”

“Mm…?”

“You’re not just Batman to me. I mean, that is not why I feel responsible for your wellbeing.”

“’Kay. Y’too…”

After a brief pause, the gentle half-singing began again, and Dick slipped away on the familiar melody.

______________

All of the lights were off in the den when Alfred breezed in with a tray of hot chocolate just as A Charlie Brown Christmas began on the TV. Cass and Stephanie’s arms sprang up from their spots on the floor like weeds, and he placed mugs in their waiting hands before circling around to the others. Tim, curled up on the sofa, accepted his with a muttered thanks without looking up from his phone. Bruce took one for himself and one for Damian who was smushed into his side, mouth hanging open in dead sleep. When Alfred got to where Barbara and Dick were sharing a blanket on the couch, he smiled and set their mugs on the end table.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick whispered, glancing over at Barbara’s head on his shoulder to find that she had fallen asleep.

“Of course,” Alfred said. He set the tray aside and took a seat in a nearby chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Dick answered, perhaps a bit too quickly because Alfred raised a dubious eyebrow at him.

“Honest,” he added with a rueful grin.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise coming from the TV and hushed laughter and whispers between Cassandra and Stephanie on the floor.

The air was thick with the ghost of Thanksgiving dinner and fresh hot chocolate, creating a warm bouquet that was at once comforting and nostalgic. Bruce had a faint smile on his face as he watched the movie, colors and lights splashing across his face. He had one arm draped over Damian’s small frame as if holding him there.

At some point, Tim had stowed his phone and turned so that his legs dangled off the armrest and he could see the screen better, hot chocolate clutched between his hands.

It was one of those admittedly rare moments where there was no clock ticking anywhere in the background. There was work to be done, for sure, but it was not a looming obligation. Tonight, the city for once was quiet. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had passed an uninterrupted holiday in this house.

“Something is on your mind,” Alfred noted, taking a small sip from his mug.

“I was just thinking about today.”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” the older man said, instantly understanding.

“No kidding. It almost feels suspicious. Like the calm before the–”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, his face illuminated just enough by the TV for Dick to register the stern frown there. “I will not allow you to sully this gift with your dark premonitions. Just enjoy this for what it is: a welcome and much needed respite after the events of the past few weeks.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dick conceded, cringing a little in self-reproach. “Sorry, Al.”

The old man nodded, his face softening. “Now, would you mind telling me what is actually on your mind?”

Dick let out a breathy, half-hearted laugh. “You’re good.”

“I am indeed.”

With a sigh, he looked toward the TV. A Black Friday commercial was advertising half-priced gaming systems.

“Hey,” Tim whispered, waving his arm at Stephanie.

“What?”

“Get me that.” He pointed at the commercial, and Stephanie scoffed at him before resuming her muted conversation with Cass. After a few days and a much-needed conversation, Dick was happy to see Tim back to his normal self.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted now, returning his attention to Alfred who was watching him patiently, “since I’ve heard from Jason. Over a month, actually. Not the longest we’ve gone without speaking, but it’s the longest in a while.”

The cup paused halfway to Alfred’s mouth, his brow creasing. “Over a month?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “We went on patrol together in October and things got a little rough. I said some stuff and we haven’t spoken since. I’m not even sure he’s still in the city.”

When Alfred continued to look at him, Dick asked, “What?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how has your memory been as of late?”

Dick adjusted himself, gingerly repositioning Barbara’s head on his shoulder when he felt her beginning to slide off. “Fine now. I can’t remember much of that night. Or, pretty much anything, really. But otherwise I’m all right. Why?”

“And the others? What have they told you?”

“About what happened? I haven’t asked. I didn’t want to... Well, you know.”

“Indeed,” Alfred said with a somber nod, setting down his mug. “It is a night, or a week, rather, that I’m certain we would all like to leave firmly in the past. But even so, I believe there are at least a few details that you ought to know.”

[my-northern-downpour]

Otherwise Engaged

This is my (late I’m sorry) Maribat Secret Santa gift for @kitsunebell! It’s a Timari story and contains fluff, some very slight angst, but a happy ending for all! My first time writing this couple and I had a hard, but good time. I really hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

@maribat-secret-santa-2020 AO3

To say Tim was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Today was Christmas after all, and it was his girlfriend’s favorite holiday. And she loved literally almost everything about it. From the decorations, to the lights, to the cooking and smells that came with it, to gift giving and hanging out with family.The one thing she didn’t really care for was receiving gifts. She always accepted them with a smile and a thanks, but she hated the idea that people spent their money on her, even if some of them were billionaires. And this was what made him nervous. Because this year he had gotten her a gift, breaking their promise of no gifts for each other. And he had a plan to go along with it.

He had all day to get everything set up just the way he wanted. It wasn’t anything elaborate, but because his family was just the way they were, there was always something that can and probably will go wrong. He had already set up a private area in the Wayne Botanical Gardens, her favorite area with the tropical flowers in a variety of colors and smells. It was her go to area when in a design slump, and the location of their first date. He smiled as he recalled that day.

“Tim! Where are we going?” asked a young 18 year-old Marinette who was currently blindfolded and being led somewhere in her new home city of Gotham. Tim had been ecstatic to learn that his long time friend, crush, and now new girlfriend had decided to attend University in Gotham for their fashion courses. He knew a little of that world, but Mari had been a willing and patient teacher whenever he asked questions on why she was doing a certain stitch when and how she just knew what kind of fabrics to use. And in return, he was always willing to explain his business knowings her when she asked anything.  

“You’re so very impatient you know that?” replied an excited 19 year-old Tim Drake. He had never thought he would get the chance to take her out on a proper date, but now here he was, ecstatic and leading her to their first date location that he hoped she would love as much as he did. It was his favorite part of the botanical gardens and he knew she would love it as well. “It's our first official date and I want to take you somewhere special, so therefore it’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and see,” he chuckled at her sigh and tightened his grip on her hand slightly to signal her to pick up the pace a little. He, too, was getting impatient but he wouldn’t let her know that.

They entered the gardens and his excitement turned to nervousness. What if she didn’t like the location? What if she was allergic to these types of flowers? What if… He shook his head and didn’t think to much on it anymore. This was Mari he was talking about. She loved all types of flowers and he knew she loved places with color for inspiration. This was a foolproof plan… He hoped.

As they entered the tropical area of the gardens, he let go of her hand and turned around to face her. “Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded her head, excited to see where he had taken her. He reached up to untie the blindfold from her face and watched her face as she looked around. Her eyes lit up and her smile grew wide. She looked around the room, falling in love with it more and more. The red and yellow flowers contrasted against the green fauna made her inner artist squeal and add in the purples and oranges and she was a goner.

Marinette took another look around the room before turning back to Tim and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This place is amazing. Thank you for showing me this place.”

It was at that moment that Tim knew he was goner as well.

Returning to his project at hand, Tim had started to set up a little picnic area for them to enjoy together after the big Christmas family dinner. Alfred had made up both of their favorite snacks and desserts and had also packed a bottle of champagne. Tim never really was one to drink these days, but he did indulge every once in a while.

21 year-old Marinette had been up all night waiting for Tim to get home. He had said he was going out with some friends earlier to a bar for a few drinks. She knew it wasn’t his patrol night, so that’s not where he would be. She had tried calling him a few times, but stopped after the third time, not wanting to seem overbearing.  They had just moved in together into their own apartment not too long ago and everything had been going great so far. Marinette was almost done with her college courses and was on track to open her own little boutique here in Gotham, and Tim had started to take on some more work load for Wayne Enterprises. She knew how stressed he could get at times and a few drinks had always seemed to help him out. But he had never stayed out this late before. At least, not without letting her know he was okay.

And so, in order to occupy her mind, she pulled out her sketchbook and began to mindlessly draw some designs. Tikki would come by to check on her every now and then, but even the little goddess got tired and found herself snuggling up to Marinette to fall asleep. That was at 2 am. And it was now going on 5.

Just as she was about to give in and go to bed, she heard the jiggling of keys, the turning of a lock, and then the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. She carefully removed Tikki from herself and jumped out of the chair to run to the front door.

There stood Tim, alive at least, but looking worse for wear. His hair was crazy and wild looking and his usually neat shirt was wrinkled and had a few stains on it. She could smell the alcohol on him a mile away. She said nothing as he looked up at her and smiled before tripping over himself and landing against the wall with a thud. After helping him to the bed and removing his shoes, she set a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand and left him to sleep on the couch.

The conversation that followed was fairly typical. She asked where he had been and why he didn’t at least let her know he would be back later than expected.  He told her he was sorry to worry her and that his phone had died. He explained that he ended up at his friends house where they continued the party after the bars closed and that was it. Then he promised to not do it again.

Except he did it again. It was two months later, but it happened.

And then again and again and again.

He continued to go out and stay out on his off nights and even sometimes skipped his own patrols.

And then one night/morning he came home expecting her to be there, but she wasn’t. Instead he found a note on her side of the bed, claiming she was at his father’s house for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t keep doing this, waiting around all night for him to come back and worrying about where he was at or if he was okay. She wrote that she loved him and wanted to help him get better, but she needed a break for right now. Because she didn’t know how to help him.

It didn’t really set in that she was gone until he looked around the room and saw that it looked empty. Her side of the closet contained only bare hangers and her sketchbooks and extra fabrics were gone. He looked around to try to find the tiny flying goddess or any of the other kwami that she guarded, but couldn’t find them at all.

When he laid down, it was to a cold bed and he knew he had royally fucked up.

Shaking those thoughts aside, he took a look at the picnic area and smiled. Now all he had to do was make sure his family didn’t interrupt him this evening after they left the manor.

~~~

Christmas dinner went as smoothly as expected. Marinette’s parents flew in to spend some time with everyone and, of course, brought along some of their macarons. Gifts were exchanged and pleasantries were passed along. Time kept creeping ever closer to his time with Marinette, and Tim was feeling nervous again. He knew she loved him, no doubt about it. She wouldn’t have put up with him for almost 7 years if she didn’t. And he loved her more than he could ever convey. So why did he feel this way?

Ahh, yes. It was his brothers, who were currently trying to set up a way to sneak into the gardens beforehand and not get noticed. The only ones he wanted there were him, his girlfriend, and the gaggle of kwamis that were always around her. But even they were in on it, so they were going to make themselves scarce. Dick and Jason had set up cameras earlier, but Tim had found them and knocked them out. Damian, who really opened up to Marinette over the past few years, had tried to sneak a peak at the ring so he could give his approval, but it was moved before he could find it. Even Bruce had had thoughts of trying to get in, but Alfred had pulled him aside for some last minute details on something that needed his attention right away.

He looked at the clock in the living room. 9:30. It was time to go. He began to get up and walked over to Marinette who was sitting with her parents just chatting away. He felt bad for taking her away from them, but this was important. And her parents knew.

“Mari, babe. Let’s head out. There’s some place I want to go before we head home for the night,” he said to her as he laid his hands on her shoulders. She turned to look at him and smiled before turning back to her parents.

“Maman, Papa, is that okay if we go?” Her parents eagerly agreed, saying they would talk later and to have fun tonight. And with that, Tim and Marinette had grabbed their coats, said their goodbyes, and went on their way.

“So, where exactly are we going Tim? You seem really excited for this,” she inquired from her seat, Tikki sat on her shoulder and grinning widely.

“Now, where’s the fun in surprises if you know about them?” he chuckled as they pulled up to botanical gardens. He quickly got out of the car and ran to her side to open the door and let her out. Taking her hand, he gently kissed the back of it before closing the door behind her. “Now, I do have something for you to wear before you can go in.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

“Really? I know almost every inch of this place?” she giggled. “But, if you insist, go right ahead.”

Tim then covered her eyes and started leading her into the gardens. They passed through every single area until they reached her favorite room. This was it. Now or never. He reached up to take the blindfold off, but instructed her to keep her eyes closed until he told her to open them. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Marinette opened her eyes and smiled at the room. It was always lovely to be here. It made her happy and always quieted her mind. She looked for Tim in front of her before looking down and gasping. There he was, kneeling in front of her, with a simple yet gorgeous floral ring.

“Marinette,” he began, “you’re my best friend and my favorite person. I’ve gotten to spend 7 years with you and for that I am the luckiest man in the world. You were there for me in my darkest time and you never stopped believing in me. You were there even when you had every right to leave me behind and never look back. You have no idea the hold you have on me.”

“I want to continue to wake up next to you, and to share your struggles, frustrations, and celebrate your achievements. You’re the only one for me and I want to let everyone know that. So will you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marinette’s heart was beating so hard at that moment. Her eyes began to water and she began to smile. “As long as you can handle the constant screeching you’ll get from my friends for not telling them about this, then yes. Tim Drake-Wayne, I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

His smile turned so bright at her words and he took the ring out of the box. She handed him her left hand and slid the ring into place before pulling her in for a passionate kiss…

That only lasted a few seconds because not long afterwards did a bat boy seemingly fall out of nowhere.

“Really Nightwing?! I had the perfect spot to record it all!” Red Hood shouted up to the ceiling where a chorus of laughter rang out. He pulled himself up before turning to the happy couple and whipped out his recording device. “Don’t mind me. Just recording this for prosperity’s sake, you know?”

Marinette laughed and Tim sighed before turning back to his fiance (Fiance!) and pulled her back in for another kiss, ignoring all the catcalls and whistles from up above.

Years down the road, Tim was grateful for the video, even though he would never tell anyone that.

[peppersonironi]

Don’t Touch My Pies

For @jondami-week Day 3: Domestic | Roommates | Adopting a Pet

Summary: 

Jon snatched the phone away. “Nuh-uh, Dami. You aren’t leaving till you answer for your crimes.”

“And those would be…?”

“Eating my pie!”

Read On Ao3

*****

Damian was reclining on the sofa when Jon walked into the living room from the direction of the kitchen and stopped behind his boyfriend.

Damian tilted his head back, ignoring the book on tarantulas he had been reading in favor of accepting a small kiss from the kryptonian. It had become a tradition of their to greet each other with a kiss. It didn’t matter how small, they would always do so. Jon had started it years ago with hugs, back when they were young. 

“Hello darling,” Jon said with a soft smile as he settled down beside Damian on the sofa. “What’re you reading?”

Damian frowned ever so slightly, since when had Jon called him “darling”? He usually used “Dami”. Maybe today was a special occasion?

Damian sighed and handed Jon the book. “The spiders are quite fascinating creatures,” he explained, “I always wanted one. Though Father always said that ‘arachnids were his limit’ and never allowed me my own.” Jon nodded along as Damian continued. “I really do not understand why people are so afraid of them. They are so small and fluffy. Of course, the cannibalization of their mates could possibly be proven unsettling to some. But they are just weak and small minded.”

“That’s really cool, sweetie,” Jon said, handing the book back. “And I don’t find the ‘eating their mates' thing strange. Sometimes, their boyfriends just make them angry, y’know?”

Damian squinted at Jon, but he just kept smiling innocently. After a moment, he shrugged. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Jon nodded and grabbed his own book from the coffee table before returning to Damian’s side and tucking himself in. Damian sighed contentedly and lifted his arm to allow Jon easier cuddle access. He loved days like this, when it was just the two of them. No missions or family drama to distract from the simple pleasure of enjoying each other’s company. They didn’t happen as often as he would like, but this occurred. And Damian cherished every single one of them.

Damian was absentmindedly running his fingers through Jon’s soft hair an hour later when he suddenly remembered that he had brewed himself a cup of tea before sitting down. It would be cold now, and therefore drinking it would be an insult to teas everywhere. However is was a special blend his mother had sent him, so Damian was loath to waste it.

Domain wiggled in his seat ever so slightly and extended his free arm towards the coffee table, and his royal blue mug of tea.

Jon jumped up slightly and reached over to grab it for his boyfriend. “Oh, here you go, honey munchkin. I wouldn’t want you to be deprived of what you love.”

Damian took his tea, suspicious. “Did I upset you in some manner, Jonathan? Are you mad at me?”

Jon looked Damian up and down, smiling brightly. “Oh, I’m absolutely livid!” he announced cheerily, and turned his back to Damian again in favor of reading his book.

Damian blinked slowly. “Pardon?” But Jon didn’t answer. Damian sighed heavily and set his tea and book to the side. 

“I sincerely apologize for hiding the stab wound from you a few days ago. It was very minor, and Brown was kind enough to patch it up for me.”

Jon stiffened, but still didn't offer a comment. So Damian went on.

“I was also in the wrong when I informed your parents that we were unable to join them for dinner next week. I know you had been planning to take me to the nature reserve in Chartine on that day. I happened to see your date book open, it was not my intention to ‘snoop.’ ”

Jon huffed angrily, and Damian cringed. Oh, there was something else.

“And…” he frowned in consideration, “I apologize for referring to flannel as ‘tacky’ to my cousin. She was merely asking for civilian dressing tips, and I was informing her of northerners typical attitudes toward the fabric. It was not a personal attack on your character.”

Jon whipped around towards Damian again, eyes wide. “You were hiding an injury from me? Dami, we talked about this!”

Damian frowned. On the one hand, Jon called him ‘Dami’ again. On the other… his boyfriend just found out he had been hiding a stab wound.

“I told you, it was small. Barely a scratch. Stephanie can corroborate my story.”

Jon glared. “And what was that about you lying to my parents? Sneaking looks at my plan for  surprises for you?” he paused, seemingly for dramatic affect. “And you called flannel ‘tacky?!’ ”

Damian tilted his head, perplexed. “Then what are you mad about?”

Jon stared, his face a mix of shock and anger. “Okay, we are having a talk about that stuff later.”

Damian nodded. “Of course.”

Discreetly, he pulled out his phone and texted Dick: “Want to ‘hang out’ as you say next week? And ask Timothy to have his clone distract Jon. For pure reasons, of course.”

Jon snatched the phone away. “Nuh-uh, Dami. You aren’t leaving till you answer for your crimes.”

“And those would be…?”

“Eating my pie!”

Damian paused, and set aside his book. “Jonathon, I’m not quite sure I know -”

“Don’t touch my pies, Dami.” Jon was outright glaring, and little hints of red light seeped out of his gaze. Damian wasn’t too afraid, though. He knew Jon would never hurt him.

“What pies?”

Jon gasped, taking a hand to his heart. “The ones my mom made! Three of them! A lemon creme, a cheese and egg, and a shepherd’s pie!”

“Do you perhaps mean the casserole that was in the fridge? The one with mashed potatoes on top? I had that for lunch. The quiche was for breakfast. I didn’t touch your lemon pie, though. I understood you were saving it for dessert.”

Jon’s eyes were wide in a mix of horror and sadness. He opened and closed his mouth as if he were trying to figure out what to say. Altogether, it was the most heartbroken Damian had ever seen him.

“Did…” Jon’s voice cracked, “Did you just call Shepherd's Pie a - a casserole?!”

Damian cringed. “Is it not? There were vegetables and meat in a gravy, and it was covered in mashed potatoes.”

Jon turned around, clasping a hand over his mouth. Damian cringed harder than before. This was clearly a mistake. Had he hurt Jon? Damian was aware that his family took pies very seriously, so much so that it was the only area of expertise that Alfred readily admitted (To the family, he would never say such a thing to Ma Kent’s face) that he was bested in.

Jon’s shoulders began to shake in silent sobs, and Damian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Jon in the past seemed to appreciate such gestures.

Jon was startled by the hand, and whipped back around to Damian. The young man braced himself for the inevitable tears.

Then Jon met his eyes.

And snorted.

Damian blinked in confusion as the snort seemed to break a dam in Jon, and the super began to laugh so hard, he had to grab Damian’s arm to steady himself.

“You called Shepherd's Pie a casserole!” He crowed in delight, “And egg pie a quiche!”

“Are you alright, Beloved?” Damian asked, and was relieved when Jon nodded.

“You…” He fell over in another fit of giggles, “Oh, Dami. You’re one of a kind.”

Damian tilted his head. “On the contrary, cloning is a very real thing. Are you somehow unaware of how you gained your brother?”

Jon snorted yet again, but didn’t fall off the sofa, thankfully. Instead, he curled up beside Damian again, nuzzling his head under his boyfriend’s chin.

Damian was quiet for a while, attempting to remain patient. Jon was doubtless going to speak again, wasn’t he?

Finally, Damian got tired of waiting. “Jonathan?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you… mad at me?”

Jon considered. “A bit, yes. But you’re a good cuddler, so I guess we can set aside our differences.”

Damian sighed in relief. “Ah, very good.”

*****

“Perhaps we should get ready for dinner soon. I believe there is still pie?”

“Don’t test your luck, Dami.”

“Very well, Jonathan.”

[erinxneil]

You know I own a gun, right?

So, I decided I was going to begin this as a prompt challenge because its been a SUPER long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m going to be using the prompts from @criminalmindswriter here and write a story for each if that makes sense? It’ll make more sense the more of them that I write, this is prompt #1 - “You know I own a gun, right?”

masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

>>>Not neccesarily romantic, this post is primarily focused on friendship!

Summary: Spencer seems to forget the advice that Morgan once offered him years ago about messing with a woman who carries a gun, when a prank war goes too far. 

I sat in the rolling chair in front of my desk, legs propped up on the table, smiling as I listened to Prentiss rant about the douche bag at the bar last night who didn’t know when to take a hint. As Emily continued to complain that it seems as if men no longer had any sense of decency, I reached down to adjust the height of the chair, realizing it no longer held the comfort that I remembered. My eyebrows furrowed as I twisted the knob however it refused to budge. Emily’s voice became white noise in my mind as I smiled kindly while roughly forcing the handle into movement, only for my efforts to be in vain.

“Y/N?” Emily questioned, an eyebrow raised in confusion. She was not angry at me for paying little attention to her story, she was more amused at my predicament and obvious frustration.

As I opened my mouth to explain my situation, I noticed a certain doctor smirking into his cup of coffee as he walked past our desks.

“Hey, genius!” I called out. “Do you have something to do with this?”

Spencer feigned surprise. “What are you referring to?” His face could almost be mistaken for innocence, had it not been for the flare of mischief that lit up in his eyes.

“Look, Reid, all I know is that someone moved my chair about ten inches from its comfortable position, and that you happen to be often chipper for someone who was forced to wake up at five in the morning today.” I narrowed my eyes at him as he blinked innocently.

“Again, wish I could help you.” He sipped his mug and began to walk away slowly, before throwing a glance over his shoulder branding a sly grin. “And if someone did happen to move your adjustment lock approximately 2.4 inches from its original position before jamming it into place, it would likely have to do with your inability to remain in your own seat on the jet, and intruding in their own personal space.” With this statement, Spencer smiled cheekily before strutting into the conference room.

“Oh, is that so?” I called out after him. Well, two can play at this game, Reid.

- * - * - * - * - * -

I grinned mischievously as I stared at the masterpiece in front of me. At first glance, it appeared as if there was not a paper out of place. Reid’s desk was as tidy as ever, to reflect the pristine image that he desired to be viewed as.

However, as we know, the surface is never what it seems.

I quickly marched back to my desk, a slight quirk in the corner of my lips to be the only hint of my devious plot. Morgan appeared to be the only one to notice, as his eyes glanced at me, back to Reid’s desk corner, and dragged slowly back to me with furrowed eyebrows.

Morgan was the only agent present this early- of course, aside from Hotch who was on the phone in his office. “Might I ask what you were doing over at Pretty Boy’s desk over there?” I smiled innocently. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”

Before he could question me further, the man himself entered into the building. He walked over to us slowly, eyes raking the scene and not spotting anything unordinary. “Hey, Reid, make sure you tell your mother happy birthday for me, I remembered you mentioned it the other day.”

Reid paused for a moment, a smile crossing his face. “Thanks, I will.”

I grinned softly. “I’ve always loved birthdays. A sign of life and happiness.”

Spencer continued towards his desk, his smile growing as if he had hoped someone would give him an opportunity to spout his useless knowledge. “Actually, did you know that you are 13.8 percent more likely to die on your birthday than any other normal day?” Reid sat in his seat and reached for his pen. “ This is quite interesting, because-” 

He paused, hand hovering over the pen, confusion crossing his features as he leaned forward slightly.

Spencer looked around somewhat panicked, before his eyes passed mine and realization fell upon his face as he noticed my smirk. Glaring, he watched as I placed the bottle of clear, contact-drying glue onto my desk.

“What’s wrong Spence, cat got your tongue?” I grinned.

- * - * - * - * - * -

What began as a harmless prank war quickly escalated into a dangerous battle of wits as tensions rose between the two agents. 

The pranks evolved from small, mildly irritating occurrences into humiliating and mildly life threatening disasters. Both Spencer and Y/N were extremely competitive and often the best at whatever they did, therefore it would be nearly impossible for one to relent without the other admitting defeat.

The rest of the team refused to get involved. Morgan is aware that I could quite literally destroy him, while Emily fears that Spencer will revert into his robot form and unlock his repressed mind-controlling powers to force her to submit to his will should she dare to intervene. Hotch initially didn’t mind the banter, as it caused the two to become more competitive in terms of cases themselves and in turn solving them quicker. However, as the battle escalates, Hotch fears that the childish games will cause someone to get hurt.

Which he couldn’t be more right.

While the pranks initially began as hiding valuables or increasing the frequency of the volume of his headset every time that Spencer said the word “Actually-”, these elevated into becoming trapped in a closet for hours without food or drink, or trapping car keys above a large tub of hydrofluoric acid. (If it was not obvious, this was a prank straight from the mind of the doctor.) 

Spencer had gotten very fed up after the last prank required him to follow a scavenger hunt throughout the office within ten minutes to find his badge before it would be shredded, only to find that it had been taped under his seat the entire time. Because of this, when I walked into the office the following morning to find his elaborate prank, I was not surprised. 

As I walked through the conference room doors, I immedately froze as I felt the ground shift beneath me. I realized I was standing on a pressure plate when lights began flashing around me, sounding a faint alarm that gradually grew louder, and I spotted Doctor Reid sitting before me with a smirk planted gracefully upon his lips.

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise!” He grinned. I rolled my eyes. “What kind of prank is thi-” A churning sound above me caused me to slowly glance up, noticing a bucket slowly being lowered further towards me.

“You were saying?” He smiled. The once innocent grin had a devilish flame now as he stared at me, anticipating my next move. “How in the hell did you do this?” I questioned, growing nervous as the bucket drew closer.

“Garcia owed me one after she helped you hack into my computer.” He grinned sheepishly, as if ashamed that he could not do this all by himself. But of course- Garcia, the only one who while remaining impartial, had offered to equally aid on both of our sides. I suppose I had known it was only a matter of time that he had cashed in this favor, however with the amount of detail in this prank, it is clear that the brainpower of Garcia only amplified Spencer’s genius thoughts.

I decided to turn the tabled on him. “Aw, Pretty Boy, you really must think about me often if you came up with such an elaborate plan like this. How long did this take you to set up, several hours?” The slightly pink tinge that was hinted across his cheeks suggested that I was underestimating his preparedness for this prank, and that I had struck a nerve. 

Spencer quickly composed himself. “I’m not the one whose about to be drenched in that god-awful smelling liquid. It will drop on you in a matter of two minutes, unless I press this button telling it not to. I could explain to you all of the ingredients that it’s composed of, however-” “I’m good, thanks.” I huffed.

“Alright Reid, what do you want?” He smiled, knowing he had me right where he wanted me.

“I want you to admit that not only did I beat you in this prank war, but that I am also otherwise far superior to you in every aspect.” 

I glared at him. “You know I own a gun, right?”

Spencer chuckled. “So do I hear that you would enjoy smelling like-”

I huffed. “Alright, fine, fine, you, Doctor Spencer Reid, have bested me in this prank war and are far superior to me in every aspect of life or whatever.” I grumbled in annoyance.

Spencer grinned mischeviously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that, could you repeat yourself?” I offered him a deadpan stare to which he simply smiled and pressed the button. The alarms silence and the blaring lights died down. I stepped off of the plate, and all returned to normal.

“Now was that so hard?” He questioned smugly, holding the door open for me.

I walked up to him with a tight smile, before bashing him in the back of the head with the butt of my gun. Not hard enough to do any real damage, but definitely rough enough to make sure he knows to give it up. He yelped loudly as I walked away, arms crossed in annoyance.

Morgan glanced up at a flustered Reid who was rubbing the back of his head with a grimace.

“What did I tell you, kid? Never mess with a woman who carries a gun.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

[emilycollins00]

omg it's now open!! can i ask for the tenma and izumi's sister street act pretty please? hehe uwu thank you very much!

Wish I could hug you so bad love, I’m so sorry this one took so long!

I’ll be honest, I had for a long time an idea but I just wasn’t feeling it, didn’t like it. So I waited to get some other ideas and honestly I’m much happier with this version! Hope you like it too.

Note this is another short of the Izumi’s sister!reader Series. I know for sure it will be a mess if I start to link each previous post, so I will put the link to my Masterlist HERE and if anyone wants, you can look for the previous parts there.

Once again, thank you so much for your patience 💕 Please enjoy! 

Izumi’s little sister! Reader. Pt. 4. Street act and thoughts

-

“Wait, you mean THAT'S why everyone keeps Masumi from talking to me?”

Izumi laughed awkwardly inside her coat, small clouds coming out of her mouth due to the cold. “It's fine, Y/N. He’s a good kid and most of the time it only gets a bit weird.”

“Most of the time?”

“Anyway!" Izumi clapped her hands and looked at you with a big grin. "I'm so excited you are staying tonight. We should have done this sooner!"

You raised your eyebrows. It was as clear as day she was trying to get out of the conversation. Sighing, you decided to humor her and let it aside for now. “Are you sure it’s fine though? You said the winter troupe was rehearsing for the upcoming perf-”

“Of course it’s fine! Everyone was delighted when I told them you were coming,” she insisted as you both crossed the Veludo district. “Besides, thanks to you we’ll even get to have curry sooner than I counted for!" as she lifted some bags, you couldn’t help but laugh at her expression.

“You look more excited about the spices and ingredients I brought than me staying over, you know”

“Hey! Not true" Izumi pushed you lightly with her hips, making stumble and giggle. You had been sceptic, but it felt nice having some sibling quality-time with your sister again.

A few minutes later, you two finally arrived at the dorm’s entrance. Izumi took out the key to enter when someone slammed the door so loud you even let out a shrill screech.

“Yes! Yes, I am deeply sorry!” you blinked with a mixture of worry and wonder at the manager of Mankai talking on the phone feeling a deja vu. How could someone bow so fast while moving around? “Of course! Yes, I'm already on my way!"

“Matsukawa-san?!” Izumi called out worriedly, but he was already out of her reach. The man did seem to hear her though, turning slightly but not stopping.

“Everything’s fine, director! Please don’t worry, I’ll make sure…!”

Neither of you got to hear the end of the sentence, the silhouette of the man getting smaller and smaller. You saw your sister looking at the distance with a tired expression “You don’t look surprised”

Izumi shook her head at your comment, pulling the door knock and allowing you to enter “If I had to question everything that happens around here I... Anyway, let's-“

“Here comes the tour guide! Here comes so don’t move another step!”

She pressed the bridge of her nose.

                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Ah, welcome back you two,” you heard Omi’s voice coming from the kitchen as Izumi opened the lounge door with you behind. “You arrived just in time. I’m finishing some scones.”

“Omi-kun, did Matsukawa-san say…”

“Y/N-pi!” Kazunari’s voice vibrated from the living room’s couches. “Come here, we missed you! I’m sure you’re looking as bomb as always though!”

“Took you long enough, Wild Currian Performer.”

Tenma turned to you as well to talk but stopped halfway. “What the hell.”

Looking up, you were thinking the same. Kamekichi had yet to move from your head “Uh, thank you for… bringing me inside.”

The bird flapped its wings vigorously. “Of course, took you long enough! I am the tour guide!” after that, he took fly and left.

You stared at the hallway visibly confused. What was up with this dorm.

“Wait, was he waiting at the entrance all this time?” a blond man with a phone frowned from the couch. “No wonder I couldn’t find him to bring me- shit, advertisements,” he groaned, glancing at you and then turning his attention back to the screen. “Anyway, nice to meet you in person, Y/N-san. Although Citron and Sakuya talk so much about you I feel like I was there the first time.”

“Uh… thanks?”

As if summoned, the spring leader popped his head into the room “I heard the door, did- Y/N-san! Welcome back, I’m so happy you could come to visit us again!”

You smiled at the boy.

“Okay everyone, help yourselves, there’s more if you want.” Omi walked towards the table and left the plate of scones in the middle, allowing everyone to grab a piece.

You took one, humming delightedly at the sweet flavor. The autumn member chuckled “Would you like anything special for tonight’s dinner, Y/N?”

“Ah, we already covered that, Omi-kun! Y/N brought spices from home, this curry will feel so nostalgic!”

All the actors in the room flinched.

“I see…”

“F in the chat. Why am I not surprised” Itaru mused to himself.

“I-I am sure it’s really good…!”

“You two really are family uh…no, wait!” Tenma shook his head. “Forget about curry!”

“Hey! What’s with everyone dissing curry?” you frowned as you cleaned the rest of the crumbs from the scone, raising your eyes to everyone in the room.

“That’s not what I mean” he rubbed his forehead. You and director were too alike. At your confused stare, he pointed at you indignant “You owe me a street act, remember?”

“Ah, that!” taking another scone and biting it, you nodded. You hadn’t really done street acts before, but you would lie if you said you weren’t interested. “Sure, if you still want?”

“You bet I do.”

He had heard Taichi and Juza commenting on your acting during that autumn rehearsal too- there was no way he would pass the opportunity to test it himself.

“U-um!” Sakuya stood up, his eyes shining “If you are going out to do a street act, I’d like to join too!”

You tilted your head at the boy, curious why he seemed so eager. Didn’t they usually do acts outside?

“All right then, let’s do this.”

Tenma smirked walking towards the door, looking somewhat excited too. Well, they wouldn’t be living in a theatre dorm if they didn’t enjoy acting after all, you concluded shrugging it off.

“GG guys.”

“Tenten, do your best!”

“Yeah, try not to embarrass yourself, hack.”

“What does that mean?!”

                                        -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time you all three walked out of the dorm, jackets and everything on, the sun had started to set up. You shivered. Maybe you should have brought more clothes.

“Was the winter troupe in rehearsals?” you turned to the troupe leaders walking alongside you “Izumi told me they are doing a mystery play of some kind.”

“Yeah, Hisoka-san is the lead and whenever he’s not sleeping he’s pretty good… so they’ve been going all out.”

Sakuya agreed at Tenma’s statement “I’m excited to see them perform!”

As you all continued sharing some light talk, you arrived at Veludo. Looking around, one could see winter was almost there. There weren’t many kids around, just adults and teens returning home walking faster than usual given the time and cold weather.

A bit later, you finally decided to stop on a roundabout next to a fountain to perform.

“What do you guys usually do?”

“We normally just pick a theme and go along with it!” the spring member answered smiling while Tenma stretched. “Do you have anything you’d like to do, Y/N-san?”

You looked around humming. You weren’t usually given the freedom to choose so nothing really came to mind except… “How about doing something similar to the winter troupe? There are not many people around, but maybe we can engage them.”

Sakuya might as well have started jumping.

“A winter-like street act sounds perfect! I don’t think I’ve ever done something similar to what they do. What do you think, Tenma-kun?”

“Not bad. Let’s go with mystery for our theme.”

“Wait, I know I just said that but if the point of a mystery is to solve it, shouldn’t we plan how to-”

Ignoring you, Tenma walked to the middle of the road and turned to you and Sakuya knowingly. His eyes shone with expectations.

You frowned confused still. None of you hadn’t decided anything, was he really-

“You can’t be serious!” Tenma’s tone of voice changed, cutting through the somewhat calm street like a knife. You also noticed his whole demeanour turning hostile, making people look his way. "I have better things to do than wait here to be murdered!”

Even faster than you had anticipated, Sakuya ran to him. "P-please wait, uncle Miles! I won’t move from here until I know who killed my brother. I’m sure the detective must have a reason for having us stay here!"

“Oh?”

“What’s this, a play?”

“Hey, these guys are from Mankai!”

As expected, people stopped noticing the performance.

You felt a thrill in your stomach, engines already turning inside your head. So you had indirectly gotten the part of the detective and therefore in charge of being the one to solve it uh.

Walking slowly, building anticipation, you placed yourself in front of them, blocking out the noise.

Tenma and Sakuya were awaiting, as well as the crowd surrounding you now and it was a strange feeling, if you were honest. Who knew what their next sentences would be after you spoke? You had no idea what could happen, and somehow, that made you smile. This really was a street act.

And so, you chuckled dryly but with elegance “I can assure you, gentlemen, this won't be a problem.”

She’s good. "HA!” Tenma crossed his arms, looking grim “Bet this is just another plot, typical of Marshall and his-”

“Uncle, please!”

And so, it began.

You didn’t notice how long you had this push and pull of allegories, fake names or places. At this point you were just a detective in charge of solving the death of Marshall Jones, a fraud who had been the successor of the Jones Industries.

...And that the biggest suspects were the two people in front of you; his younger brother, William Jones and their uncle, Mr Miles.

“This is stupid, I have men working for me on the government! They will turn a blind eye if I command it I-!”

“Just tell us who did it! I need to know who killed Marshall!” Sakuya trembled anxiously.

You just nodded calmly at both of them “You are right. This has taken too long and I apologize for it.”

Tenma and Sakuya both held their breaths. Acting with you was being a mental workout to keep up, but none of them could dismiss the thrill that came with it.

“However, I feel like I shouldn’t be the only one apologizing. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”

‘What?’

Confused, Tenma followed your pointing finger towards the crowd, and Sakuya almost let a gasp when a shadow made his way towards them. The crowd whispered furiously at the sudden change of flow of the act.

‘M-Misumi-san?!’

‘Since when was he there?!’

While they stared at the summer member, Misumi didn’t look that surprised, to which you inwardly breathed in relief.

Everyone’s eyes laid on him, his attitude perfect for the act, gloomy and mysterious.

Nothing like the happy young man who had wanted to show you triangles the first time you met "I was wondering if you would call out for me at some point, detective."

"Thought I would let you enjoy yourself for a while" you shrugged, and Misumi laughed huskily at your comment.

“Thank you for taking the job.”

“Yeah, yeah. Next time just try to not hide in such a melodramatic way.”

“B-brother? Is that really you…?" Sakuya walked slowly to Misumi, almost making it look like he was about to break into a cry.

Tenma took advantage of the situation to step in. He wasn’t about lose there "Y-you were supposed to be dead! I made sure of-!" he stopped half-way, covering his mouth. "Shit."

“Turns out you should have stayed in the room to check the works of the poison, Mr. Miles.” you made it look like you pulled two sets of handcuffs “As tender as this familiar reunion after death might be, I'm afraid you will have to accompany me. You are both been placed on a charge of murder… and inflicted fraud.”

And scene.

A few seconds passed and you swallowed. Had this been too much?

As soon as the first stupor faded, the now quite big surrounding crowd erupted in applause.

“T-that was amazing!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Didn't think another actor would be hiding!”

“That was Mankai, right? Wanna check their next performance?”

After thanking the audience, you hurried to the boy with a triangular earring, embarrassment running through you, noticing now what you had done. “I-I’m sorry for pulling you in! My body moved on its own and when I saw you…”

Tenma just scoffed, but you could tell he was proud. “Yeah, well- if there’s someone who shouldn’t have any problem with what you just did, it’s him.”

“It really was great!” Sakuya approached you both. “I almost broke character for a second there. Where you watching the whole time, Misumi-san?”

“Not really! I was looking for triangles and then I heard Tenma’s voice… and when I got closer I saw you guys acting!”

“Still, sorry for...”

“Mhm! It’s okay, it’s okay!” suddenly, Misumi started patting your head. “Good job, detective Y/N.”

You felt a blush rush to your cheeks at the touch and so you stepped back, laughing embarrassed. “I-I was also surprised how good everyone is! I mean of course you are, you guys are real actors but-”

"Let’s do another one."

“Uh?” you squeezed your eyes at Tenma. Maybe you hadn’t heard correctly. “But we just-“

“We have time. Misumi, you stay too."

“Okayyyy!”

Turning back to Sakuya the boy laughed nervously, but didn’t look surprised.

Ah, you were so screwed.

                                     -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The streetlights started lighting up when you made a decision to finally head back to the dorm.

“That was great!” Sakuya was moving as if he had received a burst of energy “It’s so much fun acting with people outside Mankai, isn’t it!”

“Everyone’s applauses were really suuuper loud too!”

“…and you say you only go sometimes to your theatre club?" Tenma saw you nod and shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter coat, groaning. "Just what's up with people like you and Misumi?"

"Hmh? Y/N and I are similar? Yaaaayy!"

"Misumi? it didn't sound like a compliment to me."

Sakuya laughed at the exchange. It truly had been an amazing experience. "Did you do theatre with director when you two were younger?"

You hummed, thinking about it. To be honest, theatre had always been around but you hadn’t really... When was it that you started acting again?

A scream stopped your train of thought.

"M-Misumi-san?!"

“You scared the daylights out of me, Misumi!"

Turning to the young man, you noticed him making a triangle with his hands and, while using it as a telescope, suddenly speeding up the pace. "It's a triangular cloud!"

"Misumi-san, please don't follow the cloud, we’ll be late for dinner!"

"Tri-triangle, tri-tri-triangle…!"

"Oi Misumi, quit singing and stop! I know you can hear us!"

Watching the interaction, you couldn't help but laugh, running after them.

They were a weird bunch… but in an endearing kind of way.

                                              -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Oh? If it isn’t our cute Y/N” Azuma smiled softly as you all walked in.

“Did you guys go do street acts?” Tasuku lifted his head from the script in his hands. Sakuya nodded eagerly at the older actor, explaining the performances and the audience reaction.

Tsumugi laughed after the spring leader finished. “Seems like you all enjoyed yourselves out there.”

“Ah, youth! If only time would let us stop our bodies to enjoy the real pass of time of our souls!”

“Arisu… you’re annoying...”

“Okay everyone, let’s call the rest and start plating everything, okay?

You spent the rest of the night with the majority of the dorm. 

You had a banter with Masumi about not giving your blessing, being cut by Citron’s weird proverbs and him being at the same time stopped by Tsuzuru. You laughed at Banri’s and Juza’s not so passive aggressive comments, heard some more stories about everyone and of course, you talked about acting and performances.

You shook your head amused. They really were acting addicts.

By the end of dinner, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

Closing your eyes, you splashed water in your face, deep in thought. “Living in this dorm must be amazing though…”

They all seemed to work so hard on any act they did… that it confused you. Izumi had always been insistent about you doing theatre and, while you appreciated it, you never took it seriously.

You enjoyed it, sure, but was it maybe because it came naturally to you? …What if you chose to act for real and then didn’t feel the same way after seeing the bad aspects of it?

Your mother was another matter too. She had made it clear she wouldn’t say anything, but you could tell it didn’t… exactly enthusiasm her. She barely mentioned Izumi’s work at home.

However, acting with everyone in Mankai had been fun. Every time.

Even you were surprised. Just how many street acts had you done after the first one today? You hadn’t practiced that much improv in a long time, not even in your theatre club.

It wasn't as of you didn't enjoy your own theatre activities, but surely there had to be a reason why you found yourself so awestruck by everyone here.

Or maybe not. Your mind was a mess. Closing the bathroom door, you sighed before noticing a figure walking towards you.

“Hey, I got the money ”

Without skipping a beat, you ‘tch’ed at Tenma. “First you’ll have to show me the body.”

“I have to see the money,” he pointed at you with his chin.

“First the body… or yours.” A few seconds passed and you both finally sneered. Tenma sighed, shaking his head.

“Thought I could get past you, dammit. You really should consider acting.”

Bullseye.

“Actually- Tenma, I was thinking” you faltered. “Um, did you… always want to be an actor?”

“Well- I was pretty much always in the industry since I was young, so yeah, I’d say so?”

“You never thought it could have been your parent… you know, telling you how you had talent what might have made you start acting?”

The summer leader thought about it, looking at the ceiling. However, he soon shrugged “If so, what?” noticing your confusion, he kept talking. “I mean, I guess they did have some influence… but in the end it was me who decided to stay. For me, not for them.”

You nodded. That made sense.

“Why the question?”

“Ah, nothing it’s just- I think Izumi tends to overreact saying I am like dad, you know, with acting and all. I didn’t think much about it until these acts made me feel…”

“Fulfilled?” The summer leader finished for you. Seeing he was right by looking at your face, he shrugged again in response. “I don’t know Yukio-san to say you are a copy of him, but yeah, you are good. Still though, you should do what you want above everything else.”

You nodded again.

You both headed back to the living room as a heated karaoke discussion between Citron and Banri while a few others tried to act as mediators.

Izumi turned to you and smiled “Everything okay?”

You faced her. The thoughts about acting and theatre could wait. As Tenma said, you didn’t have to rush and for now. You decided to let it aside and enjoy the warm feeling of being reunited with your sister and her weird, but lovable group of actors.

You took her hand and squeezed it. “Yup!”

_________________________________________________________

Hope you guys liked it. Have a wonderful day!  💕

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 9 (Kiro) Part 1 [Diversion] & [Rescue] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

There wasn’t much left in terms of Kiro scenes in Chapter 9 so it’s only going to be 2 parts. Next up to be translated is the infamous Season 2 Chapter 12 TAT

Enjoy~

[Diversion]

The carriage shook violently and soon it moved along the track again, faster and faster.

MC: What exactly is going on?

Looking through the window, in front is an underground tunnel located under the road passage.

Kiro: This car entered a downhill section. Even if it stopped, it will continue to move forward due to inertia.

The boy panicked with fright.

MC: Can you still use Evol now?

His face turned pale but nodded.

Teenage Boy: I’ll try my best….

He tried to raise his hands. His shoulders trembled with effort but the train still didn’t stop.

Teenage Boy: Ugh, I’m sorry….I really don’t have the strength….what should we do next?

Kiro frowned, seemed to think for a moment, then suddenly turned his head and looked at me with an indisputable tone.

Kiro: At this current distance, it’s estimated that there will be less than fifteen minutes before the train arrives at the station.

Kiro: If there is no way to stop it, the consequences will be disastrous.

Kiro: So we have to split into two groups. You go to evacuate the people in the square. I will stay and figure out a way to stop the train.

MC: But—

Kiro: You are in charge of the entire process of the event. Therefore, you must know better than me how to arrange the evacuation.

Reason told me that what he said was correct, but I didn’t seem to be able to give him an affirmative answer.

After the nightmare of the last hunter game, I realized that I never wanted to leave him in danger alone.

I looked up, trying to persuade him to leave together, but found that Kiro was also looking at me with seriousness in his eyes.

Kiro: Please, MC. This matter needs us to complete together.

I know very well that Kiro is right. If we act separately, only then can the risk be minimized…

I nodded and finally made this difficult decision.

MC: I believe in you.

MC: If you find that the situation is difficult to control, you must leave immediately!

Kiro nodded with relief and immediately turned towards Ah Liu.

Kiro: Ah Liu, you take MC out of here first.

Ah Liu: …Every day, I’m being called on by people, but the contract doesn’t have such details.

Ah Liu whispered with distress all over his face but still grabbed my hand without hesitation.

Ah Liu: All right, girl, come on.

Before the dazzling white light completely swallowed me, I shouted out with all my strength.

MC: Kiro, you must show up on time!

The bright white light dissipated. I opened my eyes and found that I had returned to the square where the event is held.

Ah Liu left with a “take care” and hurried back. I stood in place, looking around at crowd in the distance.

The glass buildings reflected dazzling sunlight and no one seemed to notice me suddenly appearing here on the crowded streets.

I took a deep breath and patted my cheeks firmly.

The more dire the crisis is, the more I have to stay alert. I can’t let myself worry about Kiro. It won’t help at all.

What I must do now is try my best to evacuate the people and get them out of the dangerous area under the track.

By now, most of the people gathered in this area are fans and staff members. In other words, I need to find a way to move this group of people to a safe place.

But if the cancellation of the event is announced, everyone will be displeased; if the truth came out, it will undoubtedly cause panic.

Without effective diversion measures, a stampede is more likely to occur.

What should I do…?

My eyes inadvertently swept over the staff from far away who were wearing mascot costumes and distributing advertising pamphlets. An idea suddenly popped into my head.

MC: That’s it!

I immediately took out my mobile phone. Only then did I realize that there was more than a dozen missed calls and all of them were from the company.

I called Kiki’s number back and an anxious voice was soon heard on the other end.

Kiki: Boss, you finally called back!

Kiki: What happened? We couldn’t get in touch with Savin, you, or Kiro anymore! Are you trying to scare us to death!

MC: We’re fine. However, the event schedule has temporarily changed.

MC: Wasn’t there a commercial center about one kilometer away from the previous site?

MC: Kiki, you call right now to confirm if you can provide us with a venue.

Kiki: Boss, are you crazy?! Rebuild the venue now? We don’t have much time left!

MC: It doesn’t matter how simple it is. The event must be held in another place.

I emphasized again into the phone and at the same time, I quickened my pace towards the backstage area.

The square is still full of excitement, whether it’s the LED screen on top of the station or the commercial building, almost all large and small billboards are occupied by Kiro’s image.

But at this moment, I can’t give it up.

I inhaled deeply, pushed down the uneasy feeling, picked up the walkie-talkie, and summoned the staff to backstage.

MC: After some consideration, we need to change the venue for the press conference and add a new warm-up event as well.

After I finished discussing about the hasty plan, there was a moment of silence.

MC: I’m sorry to inform you at the last minute, but we must do this.

MC: I will explain the specific reasons to you later. I will bear all the losses and consequences afterwards.

MC: And so…

Willow: It seems quite fun.

Kiki: Now that the boss has made such a decision, let’s do it.

Anna: We believe in you.

There is a rush of warmth in my heart, but I also know that this is not the time to rejoice.

MC: It shouldn’t be too late so let’s hurry.

There are mascot costumes left over from the last event in the warehouse. Everyone put them on one after another, and then sneaked out of the backstage area.

After confronting the host with the final plan, the anxiety that was suppressed in my heart surged up again.

I don’t know if it will work….

The warm-up music on the stage soon stopped, and the fans who didn’t know what happened at the scene looked towards the stage inexplicably.

The host stepped onto the stage and announced with a mysterious air—

Host: Kiro’s new song release conference warm-up activity—“The Search for Kiro” officially commences!

Host: There will be many bear mascots appearing in the area and Kiro is in one of them. Whoever finds him first will get the chance to sing with Kiro on stage!

The host’s words caused everyone to erupt with excitement.

During that time, many bear mascots appeared in Central Square. Some of them held balloons, some waved to fans, and then ran in different directions.

Even though it seems like it’s going well, my heart is still very anxious.

Perhaps it’s because the reward is too tempting or maybe all the fans in the square became infected by the lively atmosphere.

Not far away is the train track and further away is the skyline of the city decorated by tall buildings.

As long as I avoid the area below the track and disperse the flow of people as much as possible, my plan will be successful.

I looked at the last set of costumes and quickly made a decision in my heart.

[Rescue]

Putting on the last bear costume, I grabbed a handful of balloons and peeked out from behind the door to observe the situation.

When people weren’t paying attention, I quickly ran out.

Fan: There’s also a bear over there!

The voice came from afar and my nerves tightened. I immediately held my head and ran forward without stopping.

The bear mascots were found one by one. There was no one left in the original area and the security guards also blocked the venue as instructed.

After a while, people gradually came to me.

Kiki, who was in charge of monitoring the position of each bear on the headset, yelled at me.

Kiki: Boss, everyone has been found. You’re the only bear left!

MC: ?!!!

Kiki: Let’s run for it, boss!

Passing pedestrians hurried along and crowds gathered in front of the intersection, but the red light did not change.

Damn, it’s a red light….

I looked around anxiously, standing on my toes looking for a gap in which I could pass through.

Fan: I saw the head of a bear! Over there!

Realizing that my appearance in the crowd was too conspicuous, I quickly crouched down and moved aside.

I sit on a small stone bench on the side of the road, praying that the people coming and going can block my body.

A hand suddenly grabbed me from behind and held my hand tightly.

I’m sorry, but I can’t be discovered now!

But the stranger held my wrist, drew me towards him, and took off my headgear.

I suddenly raised my head and the strong sunlight made me squint my eyes.

Kiro: How long were you going to hide before you noticed me?***Changed some wording***

--It’s Kiro!

He lifted the brim of his hat, lowered his head, and there was a bright smile hidden in his blue eyes behind the glasses.

I was shocked, unable to believe that the person in front of me was the real Kiro.

Obviously the moment I saw him, my heart almost jumped out of my chest but there was an uncontrollable feeling in my eyes.

This person always falls from the sky when I need him most.

Always comes to me when I am least confident.

Always…

Kiro: A minute and one second isn’t bad. I came to the appointment on time.

Perhaps seeing the tears forming in my eyes, the smile on Kiro’s face was replaced by astonishment.

Kiro: Ah…do-don’t be sad. The superheroes in the movies tend to show up at the last minute.

MC: I’m crying out of happiness!

I took a deep breath and tried to stop the tears from coming out.

MC: How did you recognize me among so many people?

Kiro: Because you’re easy to recognize.

Kiro raised his eyes slightly and framed me with his fingers like a camera, using a very exaggerated tone.

Kiro: After all, this one is the best-looking bear in the world.

He motioned for me to get closer, looked around, and whispered in my ear.

Kiro: (soft, teasing whisper) Fugitive little bear, we should run away.

Before I could react, he pulled his hat down, then held my hand tightly and ran towards the end of the street.

We went through the gaps in the crowd and ran up the sky bridge.

A little girl licking a lollipop raised her head, pointed at Kiro and yelled in surprise.

Little girl: Ah! You’re the mister who sings very well.

Kiro: Shhh, this balloon is for you. Keep it secret, okay?

We turned the corner and took a shortcut from the alley.

An old woman with a cane and reading glasses at a newsstand widened her eyes at us.

Elderly woman: Are you Kiro? Real people really are more handsome than on TV! When I was young, you were my favorite!

Kiro: You’re still very young now!

MC: Ma’am, please don’t tell anyone that we passed by here!

Kiro relied on rhetorics and charisma to smoothly open up a large part of the crowd.

The rays from the sunset pour into the street little by little, and we continued to run.

MC: I can’t run anymore….

My physical strength was almost gone. I was so tired that I was panting and I couldn’t keep the bear’s head from slipping.

Kiro straightened the bear’s head and pointed in front of us.

Kiro: Kiro’s escape plan was a complete success!

I came back to my senses and looked at the stage.

The crowds continued to gather and the clock in the distance gradually rang. There’s not much time left.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest and I suddenly felt nervous as if I was about to go on stage.

I took off the bear headgear and said to Kiro incoherently.

MC: The stage has been set up temporarily so it may not be that sturdy. Be careful not to fall off when you’re on it.

Kiro: Okay.

MC: The band, lighting, and sound effects are not in place yet. Kiki said that the host hasn’t arrived….

MC: So there may be only one microphone to use on stage…

Kiro: I know.

MC: So no matter what the result….

Before I could finish, Kiro suddenly held up my face.

His fingers traced my eyebrows and gently smoothed out my brows that had been creased together because of my distress.

Kiro: Leave the rest to me.

Kiro: I assure you, they will only have Kiro in their eyes.

After he finished speaking, his tone was determined and confident. The corner of his lips is painted with a smile that was brighter than the sunset.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone down.

Kiro turned around, swiftly propped his hands on the edge of the railing, and jumped onto the temporarily constructed simple stage.

His figure quickly attracted everyone’s attention.

He threw his hat aside, walked briskly to the middle of the stage and grabbed the microphone.

Passerby: Is that….Kiro?

Fan: Aaahhhh, it’s Kiro!!!! It’s really Kiro!!!

An instant of monstrous screaming and shouting came to my ears.

There were people running into me, passing by, following the dazzling figure on stage, looking for the place where he was.

Mom: Aaahhh---Kiro!!! I will always support you!!! ***The original text was “洛洛(Luo Luo)” but I decided to stick with “Kiro” since it’s easier to follow XD. I guess this means Kiro has a canon nickname :)***

Little girl: Mom, you’re hurting my ears! Can you calm down?

Little girl: And mom, what exactly is a star?

Mom: A star is a person who can shine.  A person who can illuminate others.

Mom: That nice man you see standing there….

Hearing the conversation between the mother and daughter, I couldn’t help but smile. My eyes couldn’t help chasing the radiant figure on the stage.

The cool evening breeze blew his hair, turning his hair into a pulsating golden color.

Even though the weather was heading towards the end of autumn and into the beginning of winter, there is a hazy heat wave between the stage and the shouting audience.

This wave swept through the restless drums, unstoppable, and easily enveloped everyone’s emotions.

The world in my eyes is gradually blurred by the exciting music and drumbeats. Only Kiro on stage is very clearly and deeply burned in my heart.

I was unable to look away.

-End of Part 1-

Continue to Final Part

[lordkambe]

[ 1:30 AM, jyuto's apartment ] based on that headcanon you posted about jyuto instructing y/n to you know... while he watches? congrats on hitting 500+ btw!

★ CHARACTER, FANDOM & READER: jyuto iruma, hypnosis mic & woman reader.

★ GENRE & RATING: nsfw, 18+ only.

★ THEMES & TRIGGERS: masturbation instruction, voyeurism (?), humiliation, explicit dirty talk and descriptions. 

★ A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: beep boop beep 😉😜 hope this is enough for my fellow jyuto simps. please note that not only is this heavily nsfw; this is inspired by arlen clive’s call from the otome drama cd, rogue et noir. 

only moments ago he was kissing you, touching you, adoring you. you savored every second of it knowing damn well how busy he was. how busy you were. when you heard the phone in his pocket ring you rolled your eyes. you should’ve knocked on wood and wished that the pleasurable moment would’ve lasted longer. jyuto was apologetic, he whispered in your ear: “i’ll make sure to spoil you when i return.”

he didn’t have any intentions of leaving you in such a state, he wanted it just as much as you did but the phone call seemed urgent and you sure as shit didn’t want to come in between jyuto and his work. you walked him out the door but before he exited he turned to you to remind you of your reward. “i’ll spoil you only if you behave like a good girl.”

with a nod of your head you agreed to his terms and you kept your word. not out of fear of his punishments but because you thought it was unfair to indulge in pleasure while jyuto suffered from blue balls. instead you took a quick shower to calm your nerves and changed into a set of of your favorite lingerie as a treat for not only yourself but for jyuto when he would come home.  

in a robe, you lounged in your shared bedroom with jyuto and kept yourself company with whatever entertained you. jyuto had been gone for a little bit over an hour and you didn’t expect him home anytime soon. you were about to head to bed until your phone rang. it was jyuto. you picked it up within an instant.

“you picked up rather quickly, did you miss me that much?”

“you know me. i was worried.”

somewhere in your mind you were always worried about him. even if he swore you had no reason to worry. therefore, whenever he called you picked up without any hesitation.

he exhaled a breath, “i’m alright darling. you sound tired, were you about to sleep?”

you sat on the bed. “after the way you left me sleeping is the only way to stop myself.”

your response was a mix of guilt-tripping and teasing. both of which worked on jyuto. you heard him sigh and shuffle in his seat. it sounded like he was in his car.

“i’m sorry y/n. could you still do me a favor, even if you’re upset with me?”

you were quiet for a moment. “what is it?” you finally responded.

jyuto chuckled. “good girl.. go into the living room. there’s a surveillance camera across the sofa.”

you left the bedroom and sat on the sofa. not sure where to look jyuto simply instructed you to look forward.

“i have that camera connected to my tablet, i can see you perfectly. did you happen to change your clothes?”

you only nodded in response.

“have you been a good girl?” he asked the tone in his voice going down in pitch while doing so.

you responded truthfully, “of course.”

“is that so? prove it to me.”

the grip you had on your phone tightened a bit. “and how do you expect me to do that?”

he chucked again. “show me what’s underneath your robe.”

“jyuto!” your eyes popped out a bit. you knew he was always accompanied by others while working. however he was quick to assure you that wasn’t the case.

“i’m alone. have no intention of sharing this moment with samatoki. now, please y/n...”

for a moment you set the phone down and removed the robe to reveal the lingerie you wore underneath. it was a simple babydoll set. you picked up the phone once more.

“babydoll set?” jyuto sounded impressed. “it looks lovely on you.”

“thank you.” you blushed.

“now then... take off your bra. let me see your breasts.”

sitting on the sofa you paused for a moment; as you were embarrassed by the request.

“come on. do as i say.”

he didn’t have to threaten you with punishment. the tone in his voice said enough. you were to play your role and after hearing the tone of his voice? you happily obliged to his request.

you removed the bra to reveal your breasts to the camera. you heard jyuto hitch his breath.

“what a beautiful view... however, it’s distant. lean towards the camera so i can have a better view.”

teasingly, you nodded your head in refusal.

“you can’t? that’s not true y/n. when you’re riding my lap you always thrusting your chest towards me. almost as if you’re begging me to look at them more. this is the same thing, no?”

you leaned your chest forward.

“more.”

you shook the strands of hair away from your face and moved closer.

“such a good girl following my orders. you must be eagerly waiting for your reward, hm?”

you nodded your head. “yes sir.”

jyuto chuckled.

“next. roll up your skirt and spread your legs.”

you adjusted your position on the sofa. your back now touched the back cushion. after earning a comfortable position you opened your legs and felt flustered with every action.

“that isn’t enough.” jyuto clicked his tongue. “spread your legs widely. like how you accept me inside of you every night.”

with a shake of your head your rustled down your neck. you opened your legs wider, just as you were instructed to.

“that’s strange?” he began. “i doubt that babydoll set is of cheap quality but it just so happens that... there’s a stain forming?” jyuto laughed. “oh? what is that cute, embarrassed expression of yours y/n?”  

the lump in your throat only grew. you thought the cold shower had calmed your senses but the adrenaline from jyuto’s instructions forced your mind to unite with your lewd thoughts once more.

“should i answer for you then?” jyuto asked after a seconds of your silence. “you’re horny aren’t you? y/n you’re only obeying my orders, my humiliating orders? how could you be turned on from this?”

at your sides your hands turned into fists. your toes curled gently enough to prove that you were craving to relief the pleasurable sensation forming in your core.  

“oh! that precious place just throbbed didn’t it? i know what you’re thinking y/n. you wish to slid those elegant fingers against your clothed slit. it’s twitching isn’t it? just at the thought of your fingers running along your wet folds as you imagine my cock going in and out of you?”

a whine, soft but audible, left your lips. jyuto smirked.

“the stain spread again. i had the intention of teasing you longer but you’re such a naughty girl aren’t you? well them, how about i watch you? hm.”

you licked your lips. hesitant that it was a trick. he had informed you that you were not allowed to touch yourself until his arrival.

“come on now.” jyuto started. “even i’m aroused. continue for me, darling. it’s alright.”

with a gulp you finally touched the spot you were aching to relief. your eyebrows knitted together as the pleasure was beginning to surge through your veins. you moved the fabric of your panty aside to reveal your glistening pussy to the camera. you heard jyuto hitch a breath,

“look how wet you are. from my voice alone i can make you feel this way?” he chuckled. “you want to feel good, right? go ahead place a finger inside.”

you curled your finger inside of you. as your finger began to move a faint sound of sloshing noised filled the room and leaked through the phone. a gentle string of moans started to leave your mouth. jyuto was quick to make note.

“your voice leaked out? how wonderful. are you imagining that finger to be mine? or are you imagining my cock? look down at your finger... oh, it’s moving quicker.”

you fingered yourself quickly as you were so eager for your release. you were done with the teasing and craved desperately to reach your orgasm. jyuto’s voice and instruction only encouraged you.

“this is my first time seeing you masturbate y/n. it may become my habit.” jyuto noticed the wetness of your pussy. “at this rate you may stain the surface underneath you. well, that’s alright. the thought of you becoming shy when you sit on that sofa again is entertainment in itself.”

as you felt yourself grow closer and closer to your peak your hand holding the phone began to shake. setting the phone on speaker you set it down beside you.

“i suppose that’s more comfortable. use your other hand to open your pussy wider.” jyuto noted.

you did as instructed and god, you were glad you did. you were hitting that point inside of you that made your head fall back in pleasure. the sounds leaving your mouth were loud, loud enough for jyuto to hear them and to excite him.

“look at the camera --- you’re close aren’t you? keep moving that finger. swirl it around. and look at the camera. let me see your face, y/n. the face that entrances me every night.”

your eyes attached to the camera above you. and as you did you reached your limit. your orgasm pulsated through you leaving you exhausted on the sofa. your body twitched as you slowly came down from your euphoric high.

“ha, you really came by yourself?” jyuto then quickly ended the call. leaving you confused. you then heard the front door rattle. jyuto entered.

your neck crooked to look at him as he placed his things on the entrance table. with his jacket already placed on the table he then removed his gloves.

“i’m home.” he said.

“i can see that.” you responded, tired.

jyuto walked towards you. “you just came so you’re probably sluggish. you can remain laying down.” he knelt down on the couch in front of you.

“i thought you were going to be at work longer.”

“truth is i came home thirty minutes ago. didn’t you notice that the car wasn’t in ignition when i called you?”  

you looked at him embarrassed. jyuto chuckled, “ha -- when i left you that expression you made was too cute. i wanted to tease you further.” he stood up and faced now. “now... i am at my limit.” he said referring to the outline of his hardened cock.

at the sight of it you sat up right yourself. as you did jyuto joined you on the sofa. his lips attached to yours. the two of you kissed with urgency. you fiddled with his belt. jyuto chuckled into your kiss, “i suppose there’s no need for foreplay is there?”

you didn’t respond. even though you had reached your peak merely minutes ago. nothing compared to the feeling of jyuto inside of you.

“you did promise you’d spoil me when you came home.”

jyuto removed his pants then lowered your frame on the sofa. he hovered above you and while he did he removed the buttons of his shirt. the fabric escaped from his body quickly to reveal his toned physique underneath. underneath him you opened your legs, your pussy dripping in anticipation.

“i did. i need to give you want you want, hm?” he peppered soft kisses on your neck and chest. his hand fondled your breast. your hardened nipples passing through his fingertips. each touch was like electricity.

jyuto removed his briefs and aligned the tip of his cock against your folds. “i’m putting it in.” your legs opened slightly wider once he made himself known. jyuto entered inside of you with a groan. the feeling of his cock inside of you caused your eyes to roll. his member was impressive and stretched your walls beautifully.

“did you look forward to this?” he asked with a thrust. “tell me are your fingers better than this?” he straightened his back to admire his cock going in and out of you. his movements were at a normal pace but considering that your pussy was still tingling from your last orgasm the sensation was nearly blinding.

“answer me, y/n.”

you swallowed harshly. “ugh, jyuto! of course not --- nothing beats the feeling of your hard cock inside me. give it to me jyuto --- harder, faster. fuck! please.”

jyuto gave a breathy laugh. he leaned in close once more and as he did his thrusting picked up. he was drilling his rock hard cock inside of you; continuously touching the spongey spot within you. jyuto took your hand, the same hand you fingered yourself with, and licked your fingers. traces of your scent still remained on them.

“what a lascivious body, that belongs to me.”

the sight of his tongue swirling around your fingers motivated you to reach your peak once more. you noticed jyuto’s jagged movements. he was close to his peak as well. you clenched your walls and that earned a moan to escape from jyuto’s mouth.

in harmony the two of you came. you felt the thick spurts of his warm cum fill your pussy. before he could exit you wrapped your legs around him. jyuto lowered his frame on top of yours. both of your bodies were intertwined.

his chest heaved up and down, just as yours did. “good grief. that was fast.” he noted. he looked at you. your face was tired, but fulfilled. “shall i remove myself, then?” he asked.

you squeezed your legs around him tighter. “no, please --- i love the feeling of you inside me.”

“as you wish darling.”

jyuto placed a kiss on your cheek.

[artificialqueens]

Are You in Love With a Notion? (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Ellie wakes up in the Lake District with a hangover, an engagement ring, and her best friend in her bed. It’s not quite Vegas, but it’s still a cataclysmic mess.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon that came to my inbox with the concept “diamond chaney but they impulsively get married one night and have to deal with the consequences later”. it was too good to just headcanon for so it’s now a fully-fledged fic. it’s complete and utter silly nonsense and it’s by no means the most groundbreaking writing in the world, but it is FUN! hope u all enjoy and pls enjoy my continued campaign for u all to board the diamond chaney clown bus xo

(do people still use snapchat? fuck knows, but i needed it for plot purposes. if u like u can pretend this is set in 2016.)

***

Ellie wakes up feeling like a bat has shat in her head.

It feels as if her pulse is contained entirely within her cranium given the way it’s throbbing, and every time she blinks it’s as if each of her eyelashes weigh twenty kilogrammes. She momentarily wonders where she is before the heavy cream drapes and the shiny glass-topped bedside table come into focus and she remembers she’s in the hotel room. A’whora had wanted to splash out for her birthday (“you only turn a quarter of a century old once, ladies!”) and no expense was spared since she’d got that promotion a few months back. She’d covered the difference for any of the girls who wouldn’t have been able to afford to go away and Ellie was thankful for her friend’s kindhearted and generous nature. After all, she’s not the kind of girl who would say no to a treat, and she’ll return the favour as soon as her salon takes off.

(And it will take off. She didn’t study business for nothing.)

But the room right now, even with its four-poster bed and the cosy sheets and the four soft pillows, is providing absolutely no respite from the fact that Ellie is hanging out of her arse. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she squeezes them shut, she gives a small, self-indulgent sob of anguish and suffering.

And as she rolls from her side onto her back, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone in the bed.

The dread and fear that grips her heart reminds her of when she went on school camp in Primary 7 and had to jump into one of those freezing cold plunge pools.

She keeps her arm over her eyes for a few more seconds to allow herself to work up the mental stability she needs to face whoever’s at her side. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe this has all been in her mind and in a moment she’s going to wake up hangover-free with her bed blissfully empty.

Ellie brings her arm down from her eyelids and, without knowing what possesses her (aside from the copious amounts of alcohol that remain in her bloodstream), bites down gently on her arm in lieu of pinching herself.

She can confirm she is still very much awake.

It’s not that a one-night-stand is beyond her; she would even go as far as to say that at one point both she and A’whora were infamous for it back at uni, and she’s admittedly glad that “Dirty Diamond” just isn’t as catchy as “A’whora” and therefore that particular nickname hasn’t stuck with her into adult life like it has for her friend. No, what she’s surprised at herself for is the fact she’s brought someone back at her big age. She hasn’t had a random hookup for a while now, and the fact she can’t remember it is even worse.

She presses the hand that’s under the duvet against her thigh and her heart almost gives out with relief at the fact she can feel clothes. She can’t have gone too far, then. This is okay. This is salvageable. As she runs her fingers over the hem of whatever the fuck she’s wearing, realisation slowly dawns on her that it’s her pink playsuit from the night before.

Ellie genuinely can’t tell if the situation is better because she’s not naked, or worse because she’s still in her clothes from last night.

Her pulse skyrockets again, however, as an arm gently thuds over her waist through the duvet and the person, whoever the hell they even are, snuggles into her side contentedly. Only…it all feels too weirdly familiar for Ellie’s liking. The body beside her, the closeness, even the rise and fall of the breathing is all that of someone she feels like she knows.

Lifting her arm off her eyes and to her forehead, opening them, and finally ripping the plaster off to see who’s by her side, Ellie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or slightly horrified.

A purple velvet jumpsuit with a belt to tie her in at the waist that’s coming undone. Black and purple painted nails. Endless waves of thick lilac hair that are fanned out in tendrils across the white pillowslip. An entire face of perfectly painted makeup that’s still clinging on from the night before.

It’s Lawrence. She’s waking up beside her best friend. This is fine. This is totally normal. They’ve shared a bed countless times before back at uni, and it’s not something Ellie’s ever been adverse to- quite the opposite in fact, she thinks, as her stomach does a flip.

Something still feels off, though.

And then, as Ellie brings her hand down from her forehead and something bumps against it, it hits her- physically and metaphorically- all at once.

The ring Lawrence always wears; her pride and joy, her grandmother’s ring. The one that looks like the heart of the ocean on her finger, a huge blue diamond surrounded by eight small platinum ones. The ring Lawrence guards with her life and would only take off if it was physically tasered off her. The ring that could single-handedly obliterate Lawrence’s entire student debt and probably Ellie’s too if she was feeling generous enough.

The ring- that ring- is currently sitting on the fourth finger of Ellie’s left hand. As if it’s an engagement ring.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says without thinking. Her voice is croaky and too-loud in the silence of the room, but Lawrence still takes a while to stir beside her. She pulls Ellie close with the arm that’s round her, nuzzles her face into her arm. Usually the feeling wouldn’t be an unwelcome one, but just now Ellie’s got bigger problems. She hisses again. “Lawrence, wake up.”

“I’m not shagging you, Ruth Davidson, you wee Tory,” Lawrence’s sleep-coated voice comes from beside her, and Ellie finally draws back, reaches behind her and takes the pillow out from under her head to thump her with.

“For fuck’s sake! Lawrence, wake up! We’re in the shit here!”

As Lawrence finally blinks slowly, Ellie watches her go through the seven stages of grief far more rapidly than she’s just done. She feels like an idiot for the way her heart dips in disappointment when Lawrence shuffles back from her and draws her arm away self-consciously. She mumbles, grumpy and tired. “Ellie, I’m not alive.”

“Yes you are, drama queen.”

“No I’m fucking not. I feel how Prince Philip looks,” she groans in despair, obviously as hungover as Ellie is. She screws her face up and rubs her eyes, in turn smearing her makeup over her cheekbones. “Why am I even here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shagged,” Ellie says dryly, before holding the back of her hand up to Lawrence’s face. “Main question is, why the hell do I have this?”

Lawrence’s eyes grow wide in recognition before she groans and thumps her head back against the pillow. “How did you even…? Aw, I don’t know, Ellie, I’m too hungover to be mad about it. Just gies it back before you breathe and lose it or some shite.”

“But why is it…you know. Why is it here?” Ellie asks insistently, pressing her hand against her friend’s face in a deliberately annoying way. Lawrence grabs her wrist and forces it away from her face to get a proper look, and Ellie can see the cogs turn in her head before her face blanches at the implication.

Appearing to try and collect herself, Lawrence frowns, batting Ellie’s arm away. “You were probably getting hit on by some reprobate forty year old man in a suit so I’ll have let you pretend to be married to me. You should be honoured, really, it’s the closest you’ll get to perfection.”

“Piss off,” Ellie rolls her eyes as Lawrence gives a sleepy chuckle. She fiddles with the ring on her finger. It’s a little too small, and taking it off is proving difficult. Combined with the underlying stress of something still not being right, though, and it’s not enough to make Ellie’s dread dissipate.

“Can you remember any of last night?” she asks Lawrence, who’s scrabbling around on the bedside table for her phone.

“Nothing. You?”

“Neither,” Ellie rubs her temples with her fingers as if trying to massage the hangover out of her brain. No such luck.

“A’whora will be worse than us, then, won’t she? Because the last thing I remember is her and Tayce necking the prosecco at pres- oh, shit,” Lawrence has successfully retrieved her phone, and as she cuts herself off she’s frowning at it as if it’s committed a crime against her. “She’s calling just now, actually.”

Ellie already knows A’whora will be perfectly fresh and put together even before Lawrence swipes her phone across the screen to accept the facetime call, and so seeing her looking exactly that plus her girlfriend beside her looking the exact same just makes Ellie want to die even more.

A’whora’s smile is smug on her face as she smirks at them through the phone. “How are you two lovebirds doing this morning?”

Her words are like cold water down Ellie’s spine, and from the way Lawrence’s expression has changed too it seems she’s not the only one. She’s wondering what A’whora’s trying to imply with her joke and really, really hoping it’s just an innocent barb with no meaning behind it. Ellie can’t speak, but Lawrence gets there before her anyway. “What?”

“The married couple! The newlyweds! The babas!” Tayce jumps in, way too energetic and excited and making Ellie feel more hungover just looking at her.

Her words, though, aren’t helping her growing need to spew all over the hotel room floor. “What are you talking about?”

A’whora’s jaw drops open, and she barely conceals a laugh. “Oh my God. What do you remember?”

Ellie doesn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting that the answer’s nothing, but Lawrence is talking before she can get a chance. “Neither of us can remember anything. All I know is that I woke up in bed with this slut and she’s tried to steal my gran’s ring off me to…fuck knows, pretend she’s married to me. She wishes.”

“Lawrence,” Tayce starts, barely audible from giggling. “You two are married. You got married last night.”

What the fuck.

How can they be married? It’s not possible. Ellie tries to think but she can’t conjure up any clear thoughts. She feels the same smack of dread and fear that she felt when she went on that motorcycle rollercoaster at Flamingo Land two summers ago. Lawrence had been by her side then, too, her hand over Ellie’s white-knuckled one and reeling off ridiculous jokes to try and calm her down. She hates rollercoasters, and this one doesn’t seem like it’s going to be over anytime soon.

Lawrence doesn’t seem fazed. “You’re on the wind-up. Els, don’t give them the satisfaction, they’re taking the piss.”

“We’re not!” Tayce gasps, affronted, and A’whora is protesting adamantly too. “There was a wedding party in the bar last night and the pair of you kept moaning about how single you were and how you’d never find love.”

Lawrence narrows her eyes at her through the camera, offended. Ellie is inclined to feel the same.

“And the pair of you eventually decided you were just going to marry each other. Bimini mentioned they’re an ordained minister, so then you both insisted they married the pair of you in the hotel bar.”

“Get so far to fuck,” Lawrence snorts derisively, but it’s still not helping Ellie’s rising, terrified heart rate. “We’re meanty believe this, aye? Why in the fuck would I ever agree to marrying this wee cow, as if I would lower myself!?”

Ouch. Ellie scowls, screws her face up as she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at Lawrence pointedly. “Thanks babes, love you too.”

“But you know what I mean!” Lawrence sort-of-not-really apologises. “Right, then, I’ll bite. If we got married, how did we get to the registry office? What registry office is open at eleven at night on a Saturday?”

A’whora shrugs all blasé. “There’s one in the hotel, we just went there. Caught it just before it closed, I think.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. She wants to believe it’s a joke, so she attempts to pick a hole in the story. “If we were that drunk, though, they wouldn’t have married us? Surely? I mean it’s not Vegas, A’whora, it’s the fucking Lake District.”

“Oh no, baby, the registrar said they get couples turning up drunk all the time! And obviously myself, A’whora and Bimini were much more sober than you, so we were the responsible adults. Or bridesmaids, I guess. We were that classy level of prosecco tipsy, you pair were on the vodka lemonades by eight last night,” Tayce explains.

As the story unfolds, Ellie feels more and more nauseous. She wants to crawl up into a ball like a dead woodlouse. Surely not. Surely not.

“Wedding dresses,” Lawrence says argumentatively. “We didn’t have wedding dresses. It would’ve been so obvious we were taking the piss.”

“Oh, neither of you would stop going on about how the colour scheme was pink and purple! Matching pink and purple playsuits! Which I see you’re still wearing, you absolute hounds,” Tayce wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Everything seems to be adding up to a ridiculously clear and yet blurry degree, and Ellie can’t in any way cope with the magnitude of the situation. She throws her arms over her face and curls up into the foetal position with a groan of self-pity. Through the duvet, she feels Lawrence whack her.

“Ellie, shut up! It’s so obviously a joke,” she insists, and Ellie can hear the roll of her eyes. A’whora and Tayce are cackling down the phone like two little Wizard of Oz witches and Ellie’s never identified more with Dorothy in her life.

“Well, believe us or don’t believe us, still doesn’t change the fact you got hitched,” A’whora says lightly. “I mean, you’ll have the marriage certificate to prove it. You had it last night, it’ll be in your room somewhere.”

Ellie pops her head out from under the duvet in horror. Her voice comes out as a horrified squeak. “Marriage certificate?”

A’whora shrugs. “Yeah! If you don’t believe us then maybe you’ll believe a piece of paper.”

“The marriage certificate that doesn’t exist. Aye, nae bother,” Lawrence says, still clearly disdainful of the story. “You coming to breakfast or what?”

“Oh, babe! Been there, done that! We got up at seven, showered, dressed, makeup, breakfast, and we’ve been out for a walk. Get on our level,” Tayce flicks her hair. Ellie fleetingly loathes her.

Lawrence rubs her forehead with her free hand, clearly headachey. “Well I’m starving, so I’m not hanging around to be wound up by the fuckin’ lesbian Prank Patrol any longer. Time’s check out?”

“You’ve got til half twelve. I got us a late one, figured we’d all need it.”

As Lawrence promises to see the other two later and hangs up, Ellie can’t speak. She’s still in shock at the potential truth from last night; that they actually got married. To each other. Over the years, Ellie’s invented made-up scenarios in her head that involve various things: telling Lawrence how she feels, kissing Lawrence, Lawrence asking her on a date. None of them have involved marriage. She’s never even thought to think that far ahead, but now it’s a reality it doesn’t seem like the Disney-princess dream she’s always expected it to be.

It actually feels sort of like a nightmare.

A thud from a pillow brings her back to reality. “Ellie!”

Ellie looks at her friend, who’s managed to crawl off the bed and is standing beside it, looking expectantly at her. Ellie blinks in bewilderment, rubs her eyes before she speaks. “What?”

“I’m gonna go shower and get changed and then we can go down to breakfast? I’ll come back and knock in about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie can’t believe she’s so calm. Sitting up in bed and feeling her head sting again, she looks pointedly at Lawrence. “You’re not in any way bothered about the story the girls just told us? The fact we might have got married?”

Lawrence snorts. “Oh, Ellie, please. You’re so gullible I swear to God someone could tell you Davina McCall’s the new Pope and you’d just nod and accept it.”

“But the marriage certificate, though? The ring? Which, by the way, won’t come off,” Ellie tugs on it again, trying not to panic when it doesn’t budge.

“There won’t be a marriage certificate! You said it, it’s the UK, it’s not Vegas. There’s a reason shotgun weddings aren’t a thing here. You honestly think we could just rock up to a registry office and get married?”

Ellie falls silent. She should feel reassured, but she doesn’t.

“I’m away to scrub the first ten layers of alcohol sweat out of my pores, awrite? You better be ready by the time I’m back.”

Lawrence leaves and Ellie is left on her own with her thoughts, which all seem to ricochet off her brain and pummel it to a husk, making her hangover worse. She still searches lazily for the fabled marriage certificate in between showering and getting ready, looking fruitlessly under discarded clothes on the floor and under furniture. Lawrence is right- she knows Lawrence is right- but there’s still a part of Ellie’s mind that’s niggling away with a what if on a loop.

By the time Lawrence knocks on her door again, Ellie is back not knowing what to think. She finds herself frantically babbling to her on the way down to the hotel restaurant in the lift, but her friend won’t entertain it.

“You’re too easy to prank. How can you believe them, it’s obviously a bam up!”

“Well, it could’ve happened! They brought it up before we even said we couldn’t remember anything, right? I mean, why else would you give me your ring? You barely trust me to hold your phone for two seconds to take a picture,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair, which she didn’t wash and is still in its big curls from the night before.

“Aye! Because you dropped it in the road when we went out for Jazz’s birthday!”

“That was two years ago! And I paid for the screen repairs!” Ellie cries in indignation, but the memory still makes her blush. She grows quiet again before her mind takes her back to the apparent events of last night. “The story makes sense.”

“The story does not make sense!” Lawrence sighs, agitated. “What proof do we have? You’re wearing my ring and our pals have told us the plot of a Hangover film? Honestly, hen, if we got married last night I’ll buy you an Uber back to Dundee.”

As they reach the dining room, the pair of them stop dead in the entranceway. Because there in the middle, almost as if it’s framed, is a table for two surrounded by inflatable red heart-shaped balloons, covered in red sparkly confetti, with champagne flutes and roses and polished silverware.

“What time’s my Uber booked for, then?” Ellie deadpans sarcastically. She doesn’t know why she’s making a joke. She isn’t in a joking mood. She’s nothing short of horrified.

“Calm down. That won’t be for us. A’whora said there was a wedding party last night, remember? It’ll be for them,” Lawrence reassures her, but Ellie doesn’t miss the distinct lack of self-assuredness to her voice that had been there before.

A waiter approaches them and asks for their name. Lawrence speaks (because Ellie can’t quite manage), and in return the waiter fixes them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, on behalf of us all at the Old England, we would like to wish you many congratulations and happiness on this most special occasion. Please, follow me,” he reels off before walking in the direction of the over-the-top, Valentine’s Day-style photoshoot set-up that is apparently where they’re having breakfast.

Ellie is going to be sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Lawrence whispers all in one breath, before sleepwalking towards their table and sitting down with a tight smile of thanks to the eager waiter. As Ellie sits in the chair opposite, she notices the affectionate smiles from couples at other tables and feels her face flush with hot embarrassment. The waiter disappears with a promise to be back for their order soon, and the pair of them are left sitting in stunned silence.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says first. Her gaze is stuck on the table, shocked and stunned.

“Don’t,” Lawrence replies. When Ellie finally looks at her she’s sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of strained concentration.

“What are you doing? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying to wake up from this abject fucking nightmare,” Lawrence says through gritted teeth.

Even though Lawrence is right- it is a nightmare, it’s a bad, terrible dream- it doesn’t stop the way her words feel ever-so-slightly like a blow to the crush Ellie’s harboured for an embarrassingly long length of time. She can’t think about that, though. There are bigger issues at stake here. Like the fact they’re married.

“Do you believe me now? Why the hell would the hotel do all this if we didn’t get married in their registry office the night before?”

“It’ll be…” Lawrence begins, trying to explain it away then putting her head in her hands when she realises she’s at a loss. “Fuck, I don’t know. We need A’whora or Tayce down here to talk it through with us. Or Bimini. If it’s A’whora and Tayce’s prank then they might not be in on it.”

“They had to go back to London early for a shoot, remember? They’ll have already left,” Ellie reminds Lawrence, and her face falls in dismay.

The waiter returns holding a bottle of champagne and Ellie watches Lawrence turn over her flute with a little aggressive thud and doesn’t say when until the bubbles climb to the very top of the glass. They both order pastries, Ellie’s appetite completely gone and Lawrence’s appearing to be the same.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Lawrence as she watches her glug the bubbles down. “How the hell can you be drinking at a time like this? Are you not hungover?”

“I am hungover, yes. But I need to be drunk to deal with this situation. So I’m hoping this’ll at least take the edge off a bit,” she says dryly. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Being drunk got us into this situation, it’s not gonna get us out of it,” she sighs helplessly, realising too late that she sounds too much like her Mum. Lawrence responds appropriately; shaking her head at her moodily and staring off into the distance as she keeps sipping from her glass.

Ellie cups her cheeks, thanks the waiter weakly as he puts down a tray of pastries in front of the two of them. She tries to go over the events of last night in her head but draws a blank every time. According to A’whora and Tayce they’ll have been at the bar, decided to get married…Bimini had married them, somehow and somewhere, and they’d gone to the registrar…then they’d presumably got even more drunk and had a dance, and then…

How had Lawrence ended up in her room? Unless they’d…no. They’d both still had their clothes on from the night before.

But that wouldn’t have stopped them making out.

“Oh, God,” Ellie groans, unable to hold in the regret and the constant pain of her headache. Lawrence shoots her a funny look. Ellie’s loath to explain herself. The idea that the first kiss she’s shared with Lawrence has been messy, drunk, and one she can’t even remember is one that makes her feel stupid amounts of disappointed, but she’s not exactly going to share that with her friend.

“Loz, what if we did something last night?”

“What, aside from get married?” Lawrence talks through a mouthful of croissant. Then, as realisation dawns, her chewing stops. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

“Nah,” Lawrence finally shrugs as she resumes eating. “Because we both still had our clothes from last night on when we woke up?”

“Yeah, but we still could’ve kissed,” Ellie pulls a face, the words feeling too awkward and childish as they come out of her mouth. Lawrence seems to hesitate for a second before smirking across the table at her.

“Aye right. As if I’d ever let you near enough to me for that to happen.”

“Rich from the girl who was wrapped around me when I woke up,” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at her, and it’s Lawrence’s turn to fall silent.

Breakfast doesn’t last long. Between their hangovers and the fact that they’re both trying to make sense of the whole crazy situation neither of them can eat much, and they’re dragging themselves back to their rooms before too long. They continue to discuss everything, purely because there’s not much else they can talk about when the prospect of them being married is hanging over their heads like the world’s heaviest cloud. This time, though, it’s Lawrence who’s doing most of the nervous talking.

“I’m sure it’s easily explained away. They probably just got our table confused with the wedding party’s from yesterday. That’ll be what it is. Just some big coincidence. There’s a reasonable explanation to it all. Have you got that fuckin’ ring off your finger yet?!”

“I’m working on it,” Ellie grumbles. The best she’s managed is getting it halfway to her first knuckle before realising it was cutting the blood circulation off even more and she could get it no higher, so she’d immediately pushed it back down again.

She hears herself huff with annoyance. All she wants to do is sleep but they have to somehow deal with this first, and it’s more inconvenient than she’d ever hoped her first marriage (her only marriage) would be. Thinking for a second, she gives a little gasp as she has an idea. “Why don’t we just go down to the registry office and ask?”

Lawrence stops walking, fixes Ellie with a look as if she’s sprouted another head. “Have you lost the bloody place?! You want to go up to the registrar and go, ‘sorry to bother you, but can you please tell us if we’re married or not?’ We’d get sectioned!”

Ellie thinks that, even though it sounds as if it’s the easiest course of action, Lawrence is probably right.

“Besides,” Lawrence continues. “If there’s the possibility that we did rock up three sheets to the wind last night, I don’t particularly wanty show my face there again.”

“Right,” Ellie agrees. She bites her lip as she reaches the door to her room and puts her key card in. Lawrence waits beside her, a mutual understanding that she’s coming in to continue the conversation.

Ellie supposes she’s her wife now, so it makes sense.

“Who could we phone to confirm it, then? The government?”

Lawrence pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Ellie, you did not just ask me if we could phone the gov-”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Ellie cuts Lawrence off without thinking, and upon seeing the inside of the room Lawrence is rendered speechless too. There’s more balloons, ones without weights that cover the ceiling over the bed. The bed itself and the floor surrounding it is covered in rose petals, and on top of the pristinely made duvet there’s a box of chocolates and two bathrobes origami-d into swans.

Lawrence is the first to march into the room. She snatches up a small note that’s sitting on top of the chocolate box, unfolds it and reads aloud. “Congratulations to the happy couple, we wish you both a long and happy marriage. From all the staff at the Old England hotel. Fuck me, this canny be real.”

Ellie lets the door swing shut, walks over to the bed and sits on its edge precariously. An idea occurs to her as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. “Here. Check your phone. Messages, photos. There might be clues.”

She doesn’t look up to see if Lawrence is nodding or not, but she assumes she’s following her suggestion. Ellie is busy with her camera roll (where there’s nothing, and the last photo is a terrible, blurry, unflattering selfie of her and Tayce) when Lawrence gives a hum of recognition.

“I got a snapchat from you at one in the morning.”

Ellie cranes her neck. “What does it say?”

Lawrence, oddly, is keeping the phone out of her view. She’s quiet before she brings the phone back into Ellie’s line of vision, and the picture, whatever it was, is gone. “Just a drunk selfie. Nothing that could give us any clues.”

The pair of them are quiet as Lawrence taps against her phone screen. Ellie reflects. They’ve been in the shit like this together before: when they were eighteen and both their phones died before Lawrence’s Mum could pick them up from T in the Park and they got yelled at the whole way home when she’d eventually found them both, when they’d been stopped by the police because Lawrence had carried a traffic cone through the City Centre and tried to put it on top of the existing one on the Duke of Wellington statue. But this is a whole different level of shit.

Through it all, though, Lawrence has always been there with a joke and a laugh and reassurance for Ellie that things are never as bad as they seem. She always has this panicky way of staying positive, delivering comforting words through a voice that’s shaky with her own anxiety. Ellie always helps her in return when she needs it, has done for years: she’s usually good at staying calm, she’s chatty and can talk Lawrence through anything, and she’ll always reach out to take her hand or be there with a hug and a reminder that as long as Lawrence has got her, she’s never on her own. They’ve always seemed to take turns being each others’ anchors, and their friendship is a weird sort of pendulum of support. Today, however, they’re both blindly stumbling through their own process of coming to terms with this situation, and Ellie supposes neither or them are being much of a help to each other. She wishes she could be more helpful, because she cares about her friend so much.

Too much for it to be explained away as a friendship.  

“What are you looking up?” Ellie asks as Lawrence lies back on the bed with a thud, eyes still glued to her phone. Craning her neck, Ellie can see she’s typed how to get divorced into Google.

“Why are there no ordained divorce lawyers?” Lawrence mutters under her breath. “We can get married in a hotel bar but we can’t get divorced in a hotel room? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”

Ellie lies back too. It’s not lost on her how close together their heads are. “Why are you trying to get us divorced? We might not even be married. I still think we should phone up the government.”

“Nicola Sturgeon’s got bigger fish to fry, babes, there’s an election in May.”

“Not the government, obviously,” Ellie rolls her eyes, scrolls her own phone absent-mindedly. She’d look something up to try and help but she’s at a loss. “Like…the offices! The records of marriage and stuff. They’ll have a department for this sort of thing, won’t they?”

“Will we even be on the system if our marriage is less than twenty-four hours old?” Lawrence wonders out loud. “And if we got married here, would we be registered in England, then? Aw fuck, so many questions and not a single answer.”

Ellie frowns to herself as she thinks. “What if we do have to get divorced? Will we need a lawyer? I don’t have that kind of money, Lawrie, and neither do you.”

Lawrence hums in worried agreement, and Ellie presses her lips together. It’s weird dealing with all of this when there’s a crush at play. In amongst frantically trying to figure everything out and clarify it all, a tiny part of Ellie wonders…would it really be so bad to be married to Lawrence? There’s not really an excuse for them not to date now. It’s really the perfect way of ruining the friendship she’s been so worried about ruining for the past few years; it’s not awkward to say she has feelings for her literal wife, she supposes. But every time those thoughts rest in her brain for a few seconds, Ellie forces herself to chase them away- because really, hen, are you insane? The sheer scale of the situation isn’t lost on her, she knows they have to figure it out somehow and mop this mess up. But pretending would be nice, and safe, and far, far away from this alcohol-soaked bubble of horror she appears to have woken up in.

It’s out before she knows it, though. “What if we just stayed married? If we are. If we just stayed married until we could afford to get divorced?”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Lawrence drops her phone onto the bed, covering her eyes with her hands in resigned exhaustion.

“No, think about it! There must be loads of benefits to getting married,” Ellie explains, feeling as if she has to justify the ridiculous thought now. “You get, um. I think you get extra money from the government?”

“The tories have never given out extra money. To anyone,” Lawrence glares at her.

(Ellie knows it’s not what she should be taking from this, but it occurs to her that the way Lawrence has done her eyeliner today makes her eyes look really pretty.)

“Oh! Here, it says you get tax breaks if you get married. It would be good to not have to pay council tax for a bit,” Ellie says, looking up from her phone where she’s just googled what are the benefits of getting married UK.

Lawrence pauses beside her. When she speaks, she sounds contemplative. “Well, you’d be taking my last name, because am I fuck taking yours.”

Ellie gives a choked noise of indignation. “Fuck off, I’ve got the best last name out of the two of us! Diamond?”

“It’s the last name of a porn star! I’m not living my daily life like that!”

“So you want me to go by Ellie Chaney? A name that rhymes? Like a character from Balamory?”

“You already dress like a fuckin’ character from a kids’ TV show, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” Lawrence starts giggling, and Ellie can only fix her with an unimpressed pout. “Nah, this wouldn’t work, Els. We’re already arguing and it’s only been one day. We couldn’t stay married. Besides, I’ve got fucking standards, you know? I could so do better than you.”

It’s silly, Ellie knows, but the last comment from Lawrence stings more than it should. It’s got nothing to do with the concept of the two of them actually being married, but more the fact that Lawrence has basically just rubbished any hopes that Ellie’s ever had of maybe-someday-oneday them breaking out of their little bubble of friendship and trying to be anything more. She’s always done it; that’s Lawrence’s way, to shit on Ellie, to gently bully her, but Ellie has always known there’s no malice behind it. Except today it all hits differently, it hits a sore spot that she’s too tired of trying to keep hidden.

“Sorry that being married to me is such a disgusting prospect,” Ellie snaps without realising, turning over on the bed and standing up so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to the comment she already regrets.

“When did I say that?” Lawrence fires back, and Ellie can tell she’s confused by her reaction.

“We need to find this fucking marriage certificate,” Ellie ignores her, opening the drawers of the bedside table even though she sort of knows it’s a futile endeavour since she’s already searched.

Lawrence pushes, though, never one to back down from a confrontation.  “Why are you suddenly raging at me, what am I meant to have done?”

“You don’t have to act like you got landed with the booby prize on a game show, Lawrence, I’m still your friend. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Ellie continues as she crosses the room to look in the drawers of the dressing table, hating the way she sounds like a petulant child but being unable to help the way her words just seem to be coming out.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like fog, and then Lawrence’s voice comes again. It’s softer, a comforting note to it that makes Ellie’s heart lift cruelly. “Ellie.”

Ellie opens the wardrobe doors, realising too late what a ridiculous place to look it is but committing to the idea anyway. She’s still way too hungover to cope with any of this, and the prospect of an argument with Lawrence, especially over this, isn’t one she’s able to face. Accepting she’s not going to find the certificate, she sighs and walks back over to the bed. As she sits on its edge and keeps her back to her friend she fiddles with the ring on her finger, and it finally, mercifully, slides off.

Lawrence’s voice is stripped of all its aggression and incredulity from before as she speaks again. This time she’s quiet and sincere. “Ellie. What’s this really about?”

Before Ellie can consider the gravity of the question or indeed contemplate how to word an answer, Lawrence’s phone vibrates against the bedcovers. Neither of them speak as she reaches up to grab it, but when A’whora’s name flashes up on screen again they share a look of weary exhaustion, neither of them wanting to face their friend’s smug expression.

A’whora’s smiling cheekily as Lawrence answers the call. “How’re the young lovers doing after their breakfast, then?”

Lawrence’s nostrils flare. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“So all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then. Just calling to see if you liked the wedding presents.”

Ellie feels like a crumbling sandcastle as she rolls onto her side next to Lawrence and looks at A’whora through the screen. “What?”

“The decorations at breakfast! The ones in your room! Just thought they’d really add to the atmosphere,” she smirks, unable to keep from laughing.

More confused than ever, Ellie frowns in bewilderment. “But that was from…the hotel did that?”

“No, I did that. I just phoned down and got them to set it up. They still had a bunch of wedding shit left over from that pair that got married last night. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it to give the pair of you the romantic equivalent of everyone singing happy birthday to you at a restaurant,” A’whora explains, still giggly.

Ellie and Lawrence are silent as they stare at their friend through the phone. A’whora seems perturbed, then narrows her eyes at them before she speaks again.

“You two didn’t actually…believe you got married, did you? I thought you knew it was a bullshit prank.”

Before she can register Lawrence’s reaction, Ellie’s mouth drops open in shock. She grabs the phone from Lawrence’s hands and yells at A’whora as if she’s in front of her and not in her own room down the corridor. “A’whora! I am going to fucking kill you!”

A’whora’s laugh comes through the phone like a crackly screech, and Ellie doesn’t miss the unimpressed look from Lawrence at having been unable to style out the fact they’d both been duped. Ellie can’t even let that bother her, though, because she’s too busy tripping over herself to retell to A’whora their rollercoaster of a thought process from this morning.

Lawrence shakes her head beside her, loath to admit she’d been fooled too. “I didn’t believe it for a second. She’s talking out her arse.”

Ellie cries out, affronted. “You were telling me I had to take your last name not even five minutes ago!”

A’whora has to wipe tears from her eyes by the time the pair of them have told her the whole story. “Oh my God, guys. This has been the best birthday present of the weekend. I actually think I’m gonna wee myself. Fuck!”

“I can’t believe you told us we got married and we just…believed you!”

“Well, no, you did get married,” A’whora says.

With this revelation, it crosses Ellie’s mind to lock herself in the hotel sauna until she’s cooked through. “What in the name of God-”

As she continues to speak though, A’whora clarifies. “Or at least, you said you both wanted to marry each other. That conversation did take place. Bimini started joking they were an ordained minister. They showed you their provisional drivers’ license and told you it was a minister’s license. You were both so drunk you believed it.”

“Christ in a wheelie bin,” Lawrence groans.

“But you’re not actually married married. It was just pretend. And hey! We had fun. You should do it for real some day,” A’whora cackles.

If she was in the room with her, Ellie would slap her.

They finish the call with the promise to be packed and ready to meet to check out at half twelve, and when Lawrence locks her phone the pair of them laugh softly about the idiots they’d both been. Ellie is glad A’whora phoned. The conversation that had been taking place prior had been about to go down a route she hadn’t wanted it to, and she’s glad there’s no reason for it to be brought up again. She can go back to keeping her crush on her friend a secret, never to be unearthed.

“I should probably go and start getting packed, then,” Lawrence says decisively, getting up from the bed and making to leave. Ellie remembers what she put on the bedside table, and reaches out to pick it up as she tells Lawrence to wait.

As Lawrence turns around, Ellie holds out her grandmother’s ring, feeling a little awkward as she does so. “Here. Since we’re not married anymore. It came off in the end.”

Lawrence looks a little sheepish as she accepts it with a soft thanks. She gives it a little smile, then shoots the same one at Ellie. “Thank fuck for that.”

There isn’t any malice to her words. If Ellie was being hopeful she’d maybe even say there was regret.

Lawrence leaves and she can’t shake the little niggling feeling of sadness that embeds itself under a synapse in her brain.

***

The cold air that comes with the beginning of Autumn is welcome to Ellie as she sits and waits on Tayce to bring the car round. She’s not quite fully recovered from her hangover, but packing, checking out and getting a can of Monster from a vending machine in the lobby has done wonders for her mood. There’s also the fact that she doesn’t have a potential marriage to consider, so that’s good. That’s a relief.

A crunch of gravel behind her makes her turn around, and seeing Lawrence wrapped up in her black hoodie makes Ellie feel mixed emotions. She feels silly for getting so caught up in the whole idea of them having been married, the way she’d panicked and immediately thought it was all real, taking A’whora and Tayce’s comments at face value. She’s embarrassed at how she’d taken it all so seriously, and most of all she’s embarrassed that Lawrence was there for every reaction.

“Hey,” she greets her, already feeling a blush grow on her face. “You recovered?”

“Just about, yeah,” Lawrence laughs softly. She gestures to the mango loco that’s in Ellie’s hand. “Can see you’re clearly feeling loads better.”

Ellie matches her laugh, raises the can up in a solo cheers. As she drops her arm again, she sighs a little.

“Listen, Lawrence, sorry about…this morning. Immediately panicking and getting so worked up and intense with it all. I was just hangy and emotional and I had the fear…you know what it’s like.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry,” Lawrence brushes her off. Her expression is troubled though, as if there’s something else she wants to say. The unspoken words are loud and stifling, and then Lawrence finally meets her gaze with a nervous one of her own. “Well, marriage didn’t really work for us. But…d’you think drinks would be better?”

Ellie’s heart is going to give out. She can’t cope with the events of the day at all. She can already feel her pulse speeding up with hope so she frowns at Lawrence slightly, clarifying like a child tugging the string of a balloon to bring it back to earth. “Drinks?”

“Yeah, like,” Lawrence shrugs, looks to the ground bashfully. “For a date. If you want.”

All at once it’s as if her blood has just suddenly exploded in her veins. It feels like Ellie is on some sort of other-worldly come-up as she blinks at her friend, her friend she’s had a crush on since fuck-even-knows-when, and is stunned into silence.

“The snapchat you sent me last night,” Lawrence continues, scrolling her phone and holding the screen out for Ellie to see. “I’ve felt like that too for a while now.”

Ellie is cringing as she reads the white text against the black screen- a screenshot of her message sent to Lawrence at one in the morning, which reads “so glad whe’re marrrued for rwal vc ive reallt luked you for ages and i quitr fancg u a lot acfually x"

“How did you even manage to read what that says,” Ellie screws her face up, failing to address the bigger picture.

Lawrence smiles, a little hint of a twinkle to her eyes that makes Ellie’s heart thump. “I knew what you meant.”

There’s a small pause where Ellie blushes and looks to the ground, handing Lawrence her phone back. Lawrence uses the silence to keep talking.

“I know I like to rip the piss sometimes, and I know I can take it too far. But today all of that was about…verbalising everything I thought you were feeling about me. Trying to reassure you that I wasn’t interested in you because I thought that’s what you wanted. Once I started I just…didn’t stop, I guess. Damage control, you know? I’m sorry, Ellie,” she reels off quietly. She’s not hiding behind any jokes and she’s not making fun of Ellie and she’s not making fun of herself. It’s honest and simple and raw and everything Ellie’s wanted.

She scuffs some gravel with her shoe. “You feel the same, then?”

Lawrence presses her lips together. Ellie can tell she’s nervous. “Yeah. I do.”

“I do? Is that some kind of sick joke?!” Ellie laughs, and as Lawrence joins in she suddenly hesitates. “Wait. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“Well, I’ve had enough fucking pranks for one day and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The pair of them share a laugh, and as Tayce’s car appears from round at the hotel car park, Ellie fixes Lawrence with a smile.

“Drinks sound good.”

Tayce and A’whora appear from the car and pop the boot open, and Lawrence and Ellie try and fail to bite back the smiles they’re shooting each other as they carry their suitcases over, a mutual agreement that they’ll talk more about their plans when they don’t have their nosy and shit-stirring friend and her equally nosy and shit-stirring girlfriend with them on their way to drop them off at the train station.

It’s not quite a shotgun wedding, and it’s not quite a marriage in Vegas. But a date and a drink with the friend she’s hidden her feelings from for too many years is a good place to start.