#bc they have a signed drum head in here n its hanging up… and then today shes HERE !

[yatiso]

slightly high at work and i just meet and had a lil chat with kim deal of the breeders… trying to not embarrass myself…

[piecksz]

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by 

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.  

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket.  “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.  

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.  

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.  

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH6

one // two // three // four // five

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, masturbation, hate sex, heartbreak, blood

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // thank you to my angst goblin, Lanie @gcdric​ and my angel Zahra @starlightweasley​ for helping me get this one out bc otherwise id be STUCK

One new message

The sound of the answer machine rang through Fred’s flat, he was staring out over London and her twinkling lights. His waistcoat was loose, hanging open at his chest - tie discarded the moment he stumbled through the door. He’d pretty much flung the sliding glass door to the balcony open, letting the biter breeze whip through his hair, blowing the once still curtain so that it flew in a way that mimicked the way a superhero’s cape flows. 

The night of partying had been a wild but well needed distraction. Fred couldn’t stop the image of your kiss from playing over and over in his head, his fingers ghosted over where the absent feeling of your lips lingered, wishing you were here. 

“Freddie…” You breathed down the phone, your words slurred still as the liquor clung to your senses. 

“About what happened tonight, I don’t think it was-” His heart began to race at the simple thought, the steamy kiss was crossing his mind once again, He heard you take a moment, a pause for thought and he held his breath with you. 

“I just - we need to talk. We- I have something to tell you.” You sighed, he was praying he could just call you back, checking his watch, he knew it was too late. What If he did call, would that be so bad? 

“I’m sorry, Fred.” the sound of you putting down the phone echoed in his brain. Sorry. What could you possibly be sorry for? It could possibly be one of the best kisses of his life. He couldn’t deny the electricity that he felt from tip to toe and he knew deep down that you felt it too. So why did he feel a pang of sadness hit his chest, winding him like a dementor was sucking the soul out of his body.

Fred fell asleep that night clutching his pillow as he imagined you in its place. He wasn’t sure what made the tears roll down his cheeks, but shrugged it off as the alcohol getting to him. He was snivelling, contemplating leaving you a text. He needed you to know how he felt, that he was aching for you to be with him. He didn’t want things to just be staged anymore, there was undeniable chemistry there between you, he felt it in the way you looked at him. Surely it would be better if you were his, he could kiss and hold you all he wanted without the need for press or cameras. You could have a beautiful, normal life together. You were one of the last thoughts on his brain as he drifted off, his grip against the plush pillow only growing tighter out of desperation. 

Waking to the midday sun shining directly into his eyes wasn’t making the pounding headache rattling around in his skull any better. Fred didn’t remember anything about how or when he got home, only recalling the mellow flow of your voice reverberating around his flat. He managed to drag himself from his bed, searching every unorganised cabinet for the sight of even one lonely ibuprofen, sighing as his head fell to rest on the counter with no luck. He realised the grave mistake he had made when his head started thumping, the room spinning and his sight going hazy. Water, he needed hydration.

Two pints of water later, Fred was still feeling the sour effects of last night’s burning liquor, feeling the burn in his chest with every breath, like all the liquid was ready to come right back up at any moment. He sat himself down at the island counter as he pressed the button to replay the voicemail from last night. 

I’m Sorry.

The words wouldn’t leave him, he replayed the voicemail over and over, internalising every single word as it played through the speakers. He sat for hours, sat too long until his feet had gone numb from dangling over the seat. The Great British weather had taken its turn for the worst, a clap of thunder distracting Fred from his thoughts, not knowing how deeply the words were hitting him, until he felt a tear drop against the back of his hand. It was too much for him, realising that he needed to see you, touch you, feel you. 

I’m Sorry

His feet dragged him towards your place, he didn’t care that he’d been walking for miles or that the rain was drenching him to his very core. It was desperation that drove him to find you. It was like a sign to him that one lonely red rose grew from a bush he passed, stopping dead in his tracks before turning around to look at it. He plucked it from the bush, holding it up to his nose, breathing in the scent. Rose petals mixed with the cold drizzle and muggy air sent him over the edge. He was walking quicker now so that he could get to you, pace kicking up into a small jog, his shoes slapping against the wet pavement with each step.

One light shone dimly from the confines of your apartment. Fred stood outside, debating how he was going to approach this conversation. He loved you, wanted you to be his and he struggled in that moment to find the appropriate words to express it. You were towel drying your hair, supposedly from the rain as you came into view by the window. You looked like an angel, a pure piece of heaven on earth and his heart beat faster, beginning to move closer to the flat’s entrance. That’s when he spotted another figure coming into view from the window, face covered by the towel as you dried their hair. Whoever it was, had at least a foot on you height wise, their hands snaking around your waist to pull you tight and close to them.

Fred’s heart sunk, like it had fully fallen out of his ass, seeing you in the arms of another man made his stomach churn, his grip on the rose growing tighter as the thorns pierced his skin. He didn’t even feel the pain, just the emptiness in his chest. He watched as you pulled the towel from the figure’s face.

The messy ginger hair, round cheeks and adoring smile were obvious. Fred knew exactly who he was seeing, he was blinking so hard wishing that it was just a terrible nightmare. As George’s lips connected with yours, it was as if it rumbled Zeus himself, a bolt of lightning illuminating the dark sky. It was like watching his whole world come crashing down, watching you chase his brother’s lips desperately, the same way you had done with him last night. He couldn’t help but watch as the kiss deepened, George using his strength to pick you up, watching your legs wrap around his waist, walking out of sight. 

It was like watching a glimpse of a life he’d never have, the rose fell to the floor, petals breaking off of the stem. Blood was dripping from his hand to the floor, diluted by the rain as it splashed against the stone. Not a single car drove by your house, not one person was outside but Fred in that moment. Loneliness was the only bitter feeling left, it tasted like hell in his mouth, unable to shake the image of you and George together, only hearing two words in his head over and over like a broken record.

I’m Sorry. 

Raindrops danced along Fred’s skin, the soft pitter patter mocking him, everything reminded him of you, even in a moment of heartbreak, the glow of Christmas lights, the thunder or the distant sound of horns beeping at one another, it all reminded him of you in the most ridiculous way. His phone chimed, pulling up the messages he realised that his thoughts had overpowered the importance of the messages.

>> I miss your touch Freddie

>> I can come see you tonight

>> why aren’t you responding Fred?

>> don’t you love me?

‘Maybe this is what I need’ Fred thought, Perhaps he needed the out, the quick fuck to get the aggression out of his system. They say it’s wrong to sleep with your boss, but Cherry wasn’t his boss, she was just the publicist. The publicist you shared. If you could sleep with anyone you wanted, why should he feel guilty about it now? After all, if there was one woman who could help him forget, It would be Cheryl. 

<< sorry, doll

<< of course i love you

<< come see me x

>> I won’t be long, i’m so desperate for you, Freddie x 

It was wrong for him to say that, especially when he didn’t love cherry. Not one ounce of his body felt a connection deeper than just sex. That's all it was to him with Cherry; mindless, carefree sex. Why he kept going back to her like a lost puppy however, was still up for debate. 

Cheryl wasn't an unattractive woman, but she wasn't you. She was taller, accentuated by her constant need to wear heels, not that it mattered much to Fred when he towered above most people he met. She had long blonde hair that was always beach waved and perfectly sun-kissed skin like a Miami model. Fred didn't care too much about superficial looks, but it was undeniable that part of the reason he enjoyed Cherry so much was the way her tits, although obviously fake, would bounce in his face begging to be touched as she sank down onto him or the way her full lips looked as they wrapped around his throbbing cock. Fucking Cheryl from behind was as much fun, he had all the ass he could hold onto before him and a tight cunt that always struggled to take him. 

Reaching his home Cherry was already waiting for him. She spun around as soon as his presence behind her was felt, lips attaching to his immediately. The red lipstick she wore while unique to her, was now being transferred to the man's lips as they kissed. He wasn't disappointed to be kissing someone, it was disappointment that it wasn't you. Your kisses were heaven compared to what he was getting now, he found himself picturing you in his arms and that seemed to work. 

They wasted no time stripping each other's clothes off, Fred was aching to pound his cock into something, even if it had to be Cherry. When the girl tried to straddle him, he grabbed her hips, throwing her against the mattress, causing a giggle to erupt from her lips. "Hands and knees tonight, Doll." 

Being seethed inside Cherry felt amazing. He tried to stretch her out, push as much of himself inside as he could, but she was simply so tight. The pace he set was animalistic, fucking the girl raw against the sheets, he couldn't stand to look at her, closing his eyes and pretending it was the girl he’d been longing for. It wasn't enough, he needed more control. Fred's hand was pushing Cherry's face into the sheets, his thrusts more violent and possessive as he continued fucking her senseless. 

Back at your home, George was seethed all the way inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way you two fit together was like lock and key, a perfect size for each other. "I'm so deep inside of you princess, can you feel me in your belly?" You were nodding, grabbing his hand to press against your abdomen, his thrusts were slow and purposeful, he was trying to make you cum over and over and over again tonight and you were already waiting for number four. "Yes Georgie, right here, it feels so good when you fill me up." he hummed as he felt the tip of his cock hitting where his hand was pressed with every thrust. His precious girl. All for him. 

Fred was on the edge, skin slapping as he chased his orgasm, Not caring much for Cherry's desperate moans, no matter how good he was making her feel. He wanted her to shut up, it sounded so fake, but he was ready to release, pulling out to let his cum drip over the curve of her ass. He flopped on the bed next to her, immediately feeling her hand on his cock, stroking gently. "You're so good, Freddie, So big." 

She took him into her mouth with ease, it was the only time he could be fully inside of her. His head was back against the mattress as he pictures your soft lips replacing hers. His hand came up to stroke her hair as she continued sucking him off. Try as he might to cum again, he knew it wasn’t your hand on his cock, or your lips. It was another woman, the thought made him sick to his stomach, forcing him to sit bolt upright, pulling himself away from the naked girl on his bed.

“I can’t do this.” he grumbled, grabbing the boxers he had discarded on the floor, pulling them up. Cherry sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling it over her shoulder, “Do you want me to stay Freddie?” she smiled, playing with the ends of hair as she watched him walk into his bathroom across the hall. “I don’t care.” he spoke plainly, the hurt in his chest hitting him once again as he slammed the door behind him. 

He could still hear the hums and moans you made against his lips. As he leant against the shut door, his hand reached down to start palming himself, feeling himself grow hard again at the thought of you. He was picturing you sprawled out on his bed, begging for him, using your mouth to get him off - He was getting close again as he imagined slamming his hips into you. Just as he reached his peak again, one thought plagued his mind, you moaning his twins name. His heart broke again as he came, sighing as he realised that he was too late. You weren’t his to have.

/// TO BE CONTINUED ///  >>>>>> Chapter Seven

taglist //  @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @gcdric​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @weasleysflowr​ @vogueweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @vivianweasley​ @feetoffthetablee​ @thisismynerdyself​ @rip-us​ @witch-and-a-half​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @pandaxnienke​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @pigwidgexn​ @mackaywhore​ @softlyqoos​ @colorfulprofessornickelangel​ @fandomscombine​ @satellitespidey​ @txtdreamss​ @aaannabbanana​  @starkidpotty​ @mollydarling-hphm​ @amwithers2001​ @mrmoonyy​

[cunaeparker]

Asgardians and the Bum on 21st Street | P. Parker

A/N: hi yal!!!!! this kinda sucks bc i wrote it in october but i think its cute :) 

Summary: Y/N has an uncanny ability to transform like her father, and Peter’s a lovesick boy. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Asgardian!Reader

Warnings: None, all fluff 

Word Count: Approx. 2k 

"Hey, hey... hey! You're going way too fast Peter, I don't even know what this sign means," Y/N whines, frowning as her eyes squint at the numbers and symbols in Peter Parker's maths textbook.

It doesn't make any sense to her. The midgardian concept of mathematics is insane. She doesn't understand it all all, when does it even come to play in daily life? She would never tell Peter this, but she did not think humans could be so technologically advanced in math and science. 

Peter did tell her that mathematics is hard for most humans on Earth, trying to comfort the angry girl in her previous state of frustration and panic, though, she is pretty sure he said that out of pity.

But now, her nose crinkles in disgust as she stares at the equations, resorting to glancing helplessly up at the brown-haired boy leaning on her shoulder.

"How - ?" she asks, scowling as her eyebrows furrow. "This makes no sense, Pete."

"It's math," he responds simply.

"Well, how do I even do this -"

"The only reason you don't know this is because you're dumb," Peter teases, letting out a laugh at her tense state. He leans over to knead her clenched shoulder blades jokingly before she swats his hands away.

"Shut it, Parker," she mutters, poking his temple with the end of her pen (eliciting a small "Ow!") before she furiously erases the steps to solving the equation. "This is in, like, another fuckin' language."

Peter shrugs, leaning back against her shoulder and flipping through the pages of his textbook, mouthing something to himself before grabbing an adjacent neon highlighter and ripping off the cap with his teeth.

"You know," he starts, frowning a little in concentration as he highlights the page, "if you actually payed attention in the classes Bruce taught you, we wouldn't be here."

Y/N reaches up and flicks his forehead with her forefinger as memories from the failed catastrophe known as "Banner's School for Asgardians" flood her mind.

"Okay, dick," she chuckles, "Since when have you become so entitled?"

Peter shrugs again. "Since I became valedictorian, maybe?" He says, nonchalantly highlighting another formula as a small smile paints his lips.

She sighs, eyeing the boy in slight annoyance.

"Okay. Well, I suggest not getting on my bad side and I heavily recommend against it."

Y/N says it lightly, not really meaning it - though there is a threatening edge to her voice. She drums her fingers on the tops of his hands with a small smile, biting her lip. "I can probably make your eyes pop out, though."

"Yeah, okay," he says, letting out a soft chuckle as he puts his pen down and gently rubs his thumbs against her skin. "That doesn't make up for the fact that you're dumb though."

Ignoring him with a grin and an involuntary roll of her eyes, she puts her head on his shoulder and tangles their legs together.

"They don't teach this stuff where I'm from, you ass. We learn about other stuff that you would have no idea about."

She takes the highlighter cap out of Peter's mouth with a slight smirk, raising her eyebrows.

He scoffs and nudges her side.

"You'd learn about what, Y/N? Potions? How to fly a broomstick?"

Ah, the concept of sarcasm.

"Yes," she beams, laughing, "Asgard is Hogwarts, Peter. It's basically living in a fuckin' Harry Potter novel."

Ever since Y/N came to Earth, being forced to hang out with Peter in the Avengers Tower for the first few months resulted in him making her read Harry Potter. She didn't mind, though - she thoroughly enjoyed it in the long run.

She falls to his side with a little giggle and lays her head on his chest, nuzzling her head against his threadbare blue sweater and letting her fingers run lightly over it as if playing a piano song.

Peter's heart flutters but the close proximity comforts him all the same. He weaves his fingers into her hair and pulls her closer, a lazy closed-mouth smile on his face.

"I would pay to see that shitshow," he hums, looking down at her round eyes. "Show me?"

"Definitely," she replies quickly, letting out a content sigh as she feels his calloused fingers slip through her hair, all motivation to study now thrown out the window. "What would you like to see?"

"Dunno', something cool."

"That's awfully bleak."

Admiration swells in Peter's heart at her quip, but he doesn't show it. Instead, he just shrugs lightly and places his head in the crook of her neck - trying not to smile contentedly at the feeling of her radiating warmth.

"Just make it cool," he shrugs, offering her a small poke to the side before adding, "Laufeyson."

"Okay," she says, frowning a little as she thinks. She absentmindedly trails her fingers down his stomach and pushes up his hoodie, tracing out little circles on his toned abdomen. Thankfully she doesn't notice his rising heart rate and how his breath hitches in his throat as soon as her fingers touch his skin, though a small blush crawls up onto his cheeks at the feeling of her cold fingers.

Personal space has never been a concept she has fully grasped, but Peter doesn't mind.

His thoughts are interrupted by a large gasp coming from her lips when she realizes what she wants to show him. She hums happily, still tracing her fingers lightly on his skin.

"Now here's a party trick for the masses," she smirks, relenting her touch on the lovesick boy and instead moving up to sit on top of him with both her legs on either side of his body. "Okay, Parker— watch this."

"O-okay...?" Peter stammers, eyes wide as a vivid pink blush stands out on his cheeks, taken aback by her sudden change of positioning. "Are you gonna start -"

And then she lets out a small gasp. Choking out a small breath and a tiny whimper as she falls forward onto Peter's chest, body convulsing slightly, his breath hitches in his throat. The first thing his mind goes to is reminiscent of the most uncompromisable of positions— like the one she currently is in. It's definitely not that, he thinks, a quick blush colouring his cheeks. But his mind also goes into override. Is Y/N having a seizure? A stroke? A fucking orgasm? Especially while straddling his fucking waist?

She squints her eyes shut as if in pain, grimacing and shaking atop him in pure concentration as a veil-like white comes over her, sheer and thick.

Peter's eyes go wide.

Feeling light and fuzzy and slightly nauseous, she thinks intensely on your main goal.

Concentrating so hard she thinks her brain is about to blow, inhaling sharply as she arrives, almost there, nearly reaching her destination; the gorgeous young girl lying exhausted on Peter Parker's chest turns suddenly into an old man in a crisis lying exhausted on Peter Parker's chest.

It seems that she has turned into the scary old bum living near the alleyway on 21st Street.

The one that Peter is absolutely petrified of.

So when he shakily looks up at the old man on top of him, grinning crazily as its black gums and foul smelling breath protrude themselves onto him, he can't help but to let out a shriek.

Y/N - homeless man - chokes out a loud laugh.

"Peter! It's just me!" She exclaims, reaching down to cup his face to try and make him feel more comfortable.

But it doesn't. Because her voice doesn't sound like her voice and instead sounds like a ragged pair of lungs damaged due to decades of smoking. Old and decayed, it just freaks out the poor boy more.

"Wh-what? Y/N this is really weird," he says uncomfortably, drawling out his words with confused wide eyes as he stares at the person so close to him in terror. "This is really fucking weird."

She smiles and leans down next to him, temporarily forgetting she looks like a homeless bum. "I know, Pete!" she giggles, unsettling the brown-haired boy further. "I got this trait from my dad, but he can transform way better than I can. S' pretty cool, though."

"Y-yeah," Peter chuckles nervously, the overwhelming smell of smoke and putrid breath hurting his lungs. "Cool. But can you turn back into Y/N now? Please?"

She laughs.

"Sure. You asked for this though, remember?" she challenges, smirking; though in a few seconds she's back to normal, still straddling Peter's hips and chuckling lightly as her soft hair falls onto his forehead.

He can't help but to let out a small relieved sigh. An old man sitting in an awfully... compromising position does tend to unsettle people.

"Thank God," he breathes, smiling lazily as he wraps his arms around her back and pulls her closer to his chest. "You're really weird, you know that?"

Laying down on her side, putting her head on Peter's chest, she says: "Don't point it out. I know."

"Yeah. I know too," he says quietly, putting his face into her hair with a long sigh. Inhaling deeply, he breathes in the scent of her coconut scented shampoo, relishing warmly in the lovely difference between the old bum's smokey scent and Y/N's.

It's comforting. It's intoxicating.

Lost in the feeling of warmth and home and comfort, sleep enveloping the room in a warm glow as streetlights flow into the window, deep sighs and hums of contentment echo throughout the room.

Peter weaves his fingers through her hair and tangles their legs together, smiling sleepily as she lets out a little sigh.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?" she hums quietly, rolling over to look into his brown eyes.

"You're weird."

She rolls her eyes and whacks his arm, laughing softly as Peter's brown eyes follow hers.

"And you call yourself a spider...?"

Silence.

"Nice one."

"Thanks, I've learned from the best."

Peter just pulls her closer, smiling lazily, sleep taking it's hold on the two young adults lying in a bed in the middle of an apartment in the middle of Queens, content.

[artificialqueens]

Not A Ghost, You're In My Head (Your Move 3/3) (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: this has had about fifty billion potential titles, but rest assured that finally this is Your Move 3, only a year and a bit late. i really hope u all enjoy the end of the saga, and sorry and thank u to those who have been so patient! i’ll shut up now bc quite frankly uv all waited long enough for this. (title’s from Forever by Charli XCX pls listen to it it’s such a Branjie song)

fic summary: “Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.”

***

The smell of coffee and the warmth of the cafe inside hits Brooke like a ton of bricks as she walks in, blinks a little, and scans the room to find a seat. Eventually her eyes settle on a small booth through the back, away from the clatter and hiss of the coffee machines and probably the closest thing to quiet that they’ll get in a public setting like this. Sliding into it, Brooke shrugs her jacket off, lifts up a menu, puts it down again, drums her nails against the tabletop and takes her phone out. She checks the time, then checks her reflection in her phone’s camera. Briefly she finds it crossing her mind that she’s probably put more effort into her outfit, hair and makeup today than she had for their first date. What had she worn for their first date again? She can’t remember. She supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Putting her phone down, Brooke digs her toes into the soles of her shoes and takes one deep breath that she intends to be calming. Instead it leaves her feeling as if she is trapped under a sheet of ice with a millimetre of air to work with before she sinks underwater. Part of her feels as if she is already sinking. The other part of her feels as if she sank a month-and-a-bit ago and here she is, sitting waiting in a cafe, a living shipwreck. Sometimes her ribs feel like huge, cracked planks of wood, an empty vessel where something once lived. Sometimes it feels as if her heart is a sail, a huge mast broken in two with two long, ragged dagger marks scarring the sheet and rendering it useless. Other times she feels like a huge, heavy propellor is cutting into her stomach and churning it up, though that’s mainly when she makes the mistake of scanning social media (and isn’t madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?)

Today, Brooke just feels hollow.

Suddenly her phone buzzes harshly against the table and Brooke’s heart involuntarily leaps as she picks it up, an aftershock of the past seven months that will eventually dissipate with time. At least, she hopes so.

V: i can’t do this today

V: i’m sorry

Brooke feels as if an elastic band inside her has suddenly snapped. She doesn’t know if she feels relieved or if she wants to cry. Feeling a blush prickle against her cheeks and a lump form in her throat, her body seems to make the decision for her.

B: It’s okay don’t worry. Another time x

What does she expect? Brooke isn’t supposed to be the heartbroken one, Brooke isn’t meant to be the one that is sitting crying at a coffee shop table as if she’s the one that’s been broken up with. She wipes below her eyes and dabs lightly at her lashes with her fingers before pulling her jacket back on and walking quickly back through the door of the cafe she’d stepped through not even five minutes ago.

They’ll try again when she’s ready.

***

Brooke sinks on top of her bed, letting out a huge, deep breath of air until her stomach feels as if it is concave. It had been Vanessa that was the cautious one, it had always been Brooke making the big decisions about their relationship- a fact that, she cruelly reminds herself, remained true til its very end. She blinks very slowly. Her eyelids are so fucking heavy and tired. She took the morning off work to accommodate her plans and now she has nothing to do. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until her eyes burn is a nice impromptu plan.  

Her phone suddenly hums in the silence of the room. As if she’s been shocked by jump leads, Brooke spins over on her bed and grabs her phone from her bedside table, her heart hammering at an unhealthy rate. She feels the disappointment sink through her whole body when she sees the name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo. Calling to see how you were, but your tone kind of says it all for me.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. Vanessa never showed.”

“I know. She phoned me.”

The cardiac arrest is back, alive and unwell in Brooke’s ribcage. “What did she say?”

“That she felt like an ass. I asked her what donkeys had to do with anything.”

Brooke shakes her head and laughs in spite of herself. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. How are you doing?”

Brooke frowns deeply. “What, that’s all you said? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A sigh comes from the end of the line. “Brooke, maybe you have to let her go.”

“No, come on, Yves, that’s not fair. Don’t talk to me like I’m obsessed and still clinging on because that’s not…it’s more complicated than that.”

“I mean. It was you that ended things.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Brooke sighs, her heart feeling sick and empty.

“Look, just give her some time. You can’t just expect everything to go back to the way things were. Because…” her friend pauses on the end of the line, as if she’s about to deliver something Brooke won’t want to hear. “…well. Things might not.”

“I thought you were phoning to cheer me up,” Brooke says, deadpan. Yvie has the audacity to laugh.

“No, sorry, sorry. I just…you know. Best friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear sometimes. That’s part of the contract I signed back in high school,” Yvie’s affectionate warm laugh comes down the phone and Brooke finds herself smiling. It’s impossible to stay mad at Yvie; she may look fierce on the outside but Brooke knows she’s secretly a Care Bear brought to life via magic spell. Brooke is sincerely happy they’ve been friends for so long. They’ve helped each other and been there for each other through a lot, of course, through situations that are arguably worse than this, but Brooke is glad she has Yvie during this absolutely shit time. Vanessa had loved Yvie too when she’d met all of Brooke’s friends. Sure, she’d got along with Plastique and Nina and had eventually warmed to Bianca (although that had been a struggle after some of Bianca’s snide comments), but Yvie had welcomed her into Brooke’s life with open arms and had treated her as if they had been friends all their lives too. Brooke knows Yvie still speaks to Vanessa just to check in on her. She doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna go for drinks tonight? Or food, if you feel like drinks will descend into stuff you’ll regret,” Yvie continues down the phone. Brooke exhales slowly.

“…Honestly Yves, it’s fine.”

“I’ll come to the apartment then. I just don’t want you wallowing. Wallowing’s for hippos. You’re not a hippo. You’re a…graceful crane.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“Maybe I am, and what the fuck of it? Right, I’m coming over tonight with lasagne in a tinfoil tray. Preheat your oven now. I’ll be round at 7. Love you, bye.”

“Bye. Love you too,” Brooke raises her eyebrows as she hangs up the phone. She remembers when she used to sign off like that all the time.

***

Brooke remembers those days of being in love with Vanessa, when the sex was passionate and gentle and full of fire and tenderness all at once. She remembers how it felt to look at her for as long as she wanted, taking in each glossy thread of hair, each small speckle of colour in her eyes, each individual and perfectly curled eyelash. Vanessa would always laugh at Brooke when she did that, telling her she was a creep, to stop staring at her. Now Brooke wishes she’d looked just a second longer, because she’s clearly not committed it all to memory.

She decides to go into the office. What else can she do? Yvie is annoying, but she’s right, Brooke can’t just sit and wallow. Or she could, but there’s case files that need updating and Brooke can either be sad at home lying in bed or sad at work doing something productive. Sad is the wrong emotion, she supposes. Empty is maybe more accurate. She is past the point of sad. Sad had happened when they’d had that argument and Brooke had played her trump card, best card in the pack at the time. Now she knows it had been a tarot card in disguise, the fool, and Brooke hadn’t at all known what her future would hold. She still doesn’t.

She walks into her office, past people that used to fear her, respect her. Perhaps they still do, but Brooke can still see the glint of sympathy in their eyes, hear the note of pity their voices hold. Brooke says good morning to Nicky, her new secretary. She hasn’t fired her yet, probably won’t ever fire a secretary again no matter how horrendous they are. Vanessa never came back after that day and Brooke doesn’t blame her, but she hopes she’s found another job. Nicky, she supposes, isn’t horrendous. She’s efficient and calm and obedient. Brooke knows she’s attractive too, and for a moment she allows herself to wonder if there is a parallel universe where she’s sought out a relationship with Nicky instead. Maybe a bit of random fucking with a pretty girl could take her mind off everything. Brooke laughs to herself in her office. She’s clearly losing it.

Detox comes in around half an hour later. Brooke’s done no work, simply staring at an excel spreadsheet and feeling her eyes glaze over but being unable to work up the motivation needed to blink. Detox puts a cup of coffee down on her desk and Brooke lets out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, D. I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seen happier faces at a fucking wake,” Detox jibes softly, pushes the cup closer to Brooke. “How are you today?”

Brooke leans back in her chair, swears she catches the scent of Vanessa’s perfume. It is gone almost as quickly as it had appeared and all Brooke is left with is approximately 45,000 memories, none of which she wants. “I’m shit. But I think that might be my new normal, I’ve felt like shit for so long. So I guess shit is the new fine. Therefore I’m fine.”  

Detox exhales through her nose, the hint of a humoured smile playing on her lips. “The old you would be beating you up and taking your lunch money if she heard you talking like that.”

“Believe me, I’ve already beaten myself up enough.”

Detox gives a heavy sigh of frustration, shifts from one foot to the other. “You need to sort your shit out, Brooke.”

“What are you, my Mom?” Brooke snaps back, now as frustrated as her friend. She wants to be left alone to stew in her own lack of emotions. Detox doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m gonna give you two choices. Number one, you accept that everything’s over with Vanessa, that you fucked it, that you’ve made your bed and now you need to lie in it. But from what I can see of how you’re acting just now, you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I’m not fucking doing that,” Brooke sighs, tearing her hands down her face and wishing Detox would leave.

“Second option is, you start a constant campaign of non-stop attempts to win V back. Flowers, texts, cards, we’re talking borderline Joe from You.”

“Of course you watch that trash.”

“But you get the point?” Detox persists, annoying incarnate. “Brooke, you can’t…you can’t go on living like this. It’s been over a month, it feels like I’ve lost this bitch that used to be my friend.”

Brooke supposes she has lost her sense of self. She goes through her days without showing a single emotion, instead preferring to let them all out in the courtroom, raining down upon witnesses relentlessly as if every case has been a personal experience. She’s won her past six in a row and she puts it down to the fact that she now focuses every single fibre of being that she possesses into her career and job and work and anything that doesn’t have to involve emotions whatsoever.

“Look, I’ll..I’ll think about it, alright?” Brooke waves her away, rubs her forehead long-sufferingly. The whole thing is annoying her, becoming less of a heartbreak and more of a headache.

Detox smiles and punches the air. “That’s my girl. Have a think. Right, I’ll leave you alone. See you later.”

Have a think. Brooke wants to laugh. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking since the day Vanessa left.

***

Brooke misses her.

She misses the way Vanessa just got her humour like no-one else did. When she’d have a client waiting for her and Vanessa would send her her first impression or opinion of them in advance, and then Brooke would have to hold in her laughter for the duration of her meeting because holy fuck yes, the woman’s hat did make her look like a bat and combined with her cloak it did make her look like the villain in a superhero movie.

She misses the way that Vanessa had sort-of-not-quite-not-officially moved in with her. Some of her clothes are still strewn around the apartment: a pair of black heels left by the door that she’d worn out to dinner with her, an emerald green lace underwear set that had fallen underneath the bed and Brooke had stuck in her washer-dryer, the cosy pyjamas that lived under one of Brooke’s pillows folded not-quite-neatly and covered in creases, and a white silk shirt that Vanessa had worn to work and Brooke had peeled off her when they’d arrived home, pressing kisses to her bare collarbones, chest and stomach. Vanessa used to crash her way through the apartment and often Brooke wondered if it was her mission to make as much noise as possible as she loaded the dishwasher, hoovered the living room, sang off-key in the shower. Brooke’s apartment has been so deathly quiet since she left, a funeral sort of quiet. Mournful and still and ghostly and cold.

Sometimes Brooke is sure she sees in black and white.

She remembers the day when they told each other they loved each other for the first time. There had been no ceremony, no grand gestures. In fact the pair of them were watching a film on Brooke’s couch- The Little Mermaid 2, Vanessa eager to force her love of Disney sequels onto her girlfriend. Brooke had looked away from the TV just for a moment, just to see Vanessa’s reaction to whatever was happening on screen, and when she lay her eyes on her she felt that familiar feeling of falling hit her like a wave all over again. It had happened quite a few times that fortnight or so, and the urge to tell her grew with every moment they shared together. Brooke watched her smile like a dork at the TV, the light in her eyes shining and the good in her heart visible just by looking at her. Brooke had laced their hands together, Vanessa taken by surprise and meeting her gaze with a funny sort of smile on her face. Her nose had crinkled up as she’d laughed at her.

“What?”

Brooke had pulled her close and kissed her without saying a word, trying to tell Vanessa without actually telling her anything. She was scared to say it first. She was scared to say it at all.

When Vanessa broke away, she gave Brooke a look that seemed to reach into her soul. Then she looked down at the blanket they’d thrown over them and gave a shy laugh.

“I wanna say something but I’m scared.”

Brooke still remembers the way her heart had beaten right out of her chest. If she tries she can still feel it.

“Say it. Say it, because I want to say it too.”

Vanessa had made eye contact again, her face nervous and hesitant, and Brooke wanted to kiss her fears away but that would have stopped her from saying what she wanted so desperately to hear.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Almost as quickly as they’d said it they were pulling each other in, their lips meeting desperately as they melted into each other. And Brooke hadn’t taken her to bed and they hadn’t had passionate, lovestruck sex on the couch. They had sat and kissed on the sofa with the film playing in the background like teenagers, the feeling of being in love communicated without even having to say anything else.    

Brooke had finally understood why people in musicals randomly burst into song.

She wishes she had known the last time she’d said it to her would be the final time. She wishes she could say it to Vanessa again. It’s still true. She’s still in love with her. She had fallen so hard.

The trouble with falling is that she had to hit the concrete eventually.

***

Another day goes by and a new one begins. Nicky comes in at half past nine with Brooke’s coffee. Vanessa always used to have it sitting out for her when Brooke arrived, a little heart drawn in the foam with caramel syrup making the coffee too sweet, just like her. Brooke can forgive Nicky, though. She suffered through another sleepless night and she needs the coffee more than she needs a lot of things. Doing her makeup this morning had been like painting a corpse, and Brooke tries not to feel embarrassed as she takes in Nicky’s perfectly painted face in contrast to her own. She thanks her, takes the cup and assumes Nicky will leave.

“Ms. Hytes,” Nicky says, surprising her. She stands in front of her desk, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hurting.”

Brooke almost drops her coffee cup in surprise. In days of old she would’ve fired a secretary on the spot for having the audacity to address her in such a way, make such an assumption, but Brooke is tired. She can’t be bothered to deny it, it would take more energy than to simply admit it. She deals in facts, and it is a fact after all. “Yes, Nicky, I am.”

Nicky pouts a little sympathetically. There is a pause in which Brooke assumes she’ll leave. She doesn’t. Instead she speaks again. “Who was the girl that broke your heart?”

Brooke can only blink back at her, her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. She could tell Nicky to go back to her desk, she supposes, to get on with her work. But she’s in a rare mood to talk about things, so Brooke cracks a small, indulgent smile. “And how do you know it was a girl?”

“Men can’t break hearts like women can,” Nicky says softly, philosophically. Brooke isn’t sure she’s right but she supposes she’s never had any experience with men to disprove the theory. She sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, it was a girl. Her name was Vanessa,” Brooke says, the name feeling too clunky and odd in her mouth where once it had felt like a prayer. “I guess she didn’t break my heart. I broke hers and then by proxy I broke my own. It was a stupid mistake, we had a fight and…things were said that I regret but she still won’t talk to me. And fair enough, why the fuck would she?”

Nicky nods slowly, wraps her arms around herself to give herself a hug. “I have the same. Uh, I am escaping a girl who broke my heart. But even though she hurt me, I still love her. How does that work?”

“Because emotions are stupid and they don’t work in a logical way,” Brooke shrugs instantly. She’s had a lot of time to think about the subject. Looking at Nicky, she can see the pain behind her eyes, the hurt behind the calm facade of her perfect makeup. “Who was your girl?”

Nicky smiles sadly, nostalgia getting the better of her. “She was named Jaida. She was a model, like I used to be. I don’t wish to talk about her much. It’s still sore."

"Yeah. It’s still sore for me too.”

“You say you broke Vanessa’s heart?” Nicky asks shyly. The words are like a stab through Brooke’s chest, confirming the whole thing, validating it. Brooke nods wordlessly. Nicky gives a small laugh. “Then probably she still loves you too. Like me for Jaida.”

Brooke laughs, disbelieving even though she’d be lying if she said Nicky’s words don’t strike even the tiniest bit of hope into her heart. “No, I think that ship has sailed, Nicky.”

Nicky raises her eyebrows, shrugs. “You should call her.”

“Tried that.”

“Well, call her again,” Nicky persists, her voice calm and relaxed despite her insisting. “I wait for my call from Jaida every day."

Brooke feels sad for the young girl. She’s clearly lived so much of her life already at such a young age- she’s from France, but her CV stated that she moved to America to work in the modelling industry, which clearly didn’t work out if she’s making coffee for Brooke. "You should go back into modelling. You’re wasted here.”

Nicky frowns. “I am a waste…of space?”

Brooke laughs at the misunderstanding, waving her hands and shaking her head in protest. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s had in a long time. “No, no, no, no, God no! Wrong expression. Um…you’re too good at modelling to be working as a secretary. You have too nice a face.”

Nicky blushes, making Brooke’s face hot too. She hopes her compliment didn’t come out wrong. Nicky is smiling again, the regret plain on her face. “I would love to, but I would risk meeting her again and I am not ready for that.”

Brooke’s face contorted. “But you want her to call you?”

Nicky sighs, scuffs her foot. “It’s different when you have her in front of you and she’s beautiful."

Brooke shrugs in agreement. "That’s fair enough.”

Nicky lingers, tilts her head thoughtfully. “Can I do anything to help, Ms. Hytes?”

The Parisian lilt to Nicky’s voice makes everything sound like a proposition, even though Brooke doesn’t think she means it. She knows that she could probably have Nicky in her bed by the end of the day if she wanted to- they’re both hurting and broken hearted and yearning to be needed and wanted again, and Nicky is gorgeous but it’s not Nicky she wants. Her porcelain skin just reminds Brooke of Vanessa’s in contrast, her neat blonde hair brushed carefully into its bun reminds her of how wild and loose Vanessa’s used to be, her blue eyes remind her of Vanessa’s dark ones. Brooke shakes her head, gives a tight smile of gratitude. “No, Nicky. Thank you for this, but I think we’d both better get back to work.”

Nicky smiles in agreement, giving a little nod as she exits Brooke’s office and takes a seat back at her desk. Brooke looks at her phone in its place on her desk, reaches out to take it. She scrolls to Vanessa’s name in her contacts and hovers her finger over it, millimetres separating her from potentially hearing her voice again.

She discards her phone onto her desk and opens an email.

***

They had been the best months of Brooke’s life. She couldn’t stop telling Vanessa how much she loved her once she’d started and Vanessa couldn’t seem to either. They were the worst kind of honeymoon phase couple, or perhaps the best. Detox had cooed over them like a mother hen and Brooke had let her guard down a bit at work. Well, a lot. She’d loved being able to show Vanessa off as her girlfriend, she’d loved being able to kiss her throughout the day, squeeze her hand as she showed a new client into her office. They would exchange ridiculously soppy emails during meetings. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Brooke has spent so long blaming the business trip, blaming Priyanka, blaming Vanessa, blaming her work, blaming the distance. It was none of them. It was her fault. She did all of it.

Brooke had flown out to Florida for the weekend. There was a conference that her law firm had to attend there, Detox was speaking. Brooke had been looking forward to it as she knew one of her old friends from her Law degree would be there. She hadn’t seen Priyanka in ages; she was still based in Canada and practising there, but they still texted and when they’d found out they were both going Brooke had been excited. Priyanka is one of those rare exes that’s still a friend, their breakup back in their early twenties being a mutual decision, and Brooke knows there’s no attraction there anymore.

But of course, Vanessa didn’t.

Brooke should’ve done more to reassure her, she knows this. If she looks back she can see how agitated Vanessa had been during the leadup to the conference for a full week- biting her perfectly manicured nails, a small frown on her face without her knowing, moments where she’d stare off into space. Vanessa knew about Priyanka (they’d both talked about their exes) but Brooke had told her it had been amicable and mutual. Besides, she told Vanessa how much she loved her every single day. It wasn’t as if Brooke had hidden the fact that Priyanka was going to be there that weekend, or shielded her phone when they’d been texting each other. She’d had nothing to hide.

Brooke almost wishes she had been more secretive now. Maybe it would’ve changed things.

The conference had been fun, even though Brooke now holds it in the same regard as the beginning of a horror movie, the calm before the cyclone. She’d phoned Vanessa when she had arrived, eager to reassure her but she could still hear the worry in her tone, the anxiety. Still, it hadn’t stopped her meeting up for drinks with Priyanka that evening in the hotel bar, laughing and chatting like they’d always used to and doing silly Boomerangs with the cocktails they’d ordered. Brooke told her all about Vanessa and Priyanka was thrilled for her, saying how excited she was to one day meet her. Brooke had got her phone out to show her some photos when Priyanka had looked at her own and gave a little exclamation of surprise.

“Oh! Is her nickname Vanjie?”

Brooke had narrowed her eyes, watching as Priyanka scrolled. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s watched my Insta story already. Doesn’t follow me though. Probably just doesn’t want to be weird,” Priyanka had shrugged. Brooke had shrugged back, offhandedly agreeing but internally embarrassed. She’d known why Vanessa had watched her story- she’d been checking up on her. Brooke hadn’t liked that.

When she’d arrived home, everything gradually came crumbling down, the pair of them slowly removing the Jenga blocks of their relationship one at a time. Their hug had been off when they’d seen each other again, their conversation had been the small talk of strangers. And then it had happened. Vanessa had brought up Priyanka, Brooke had brought up the Instagram stalking. Vanessa had brought up how weird she found it that she still wanted to hang out with an ex, Brooke had defended herself and told her they were only friends. Vanessa had expressed how worried she’d been, Brooke had been hurt.

“When have I ever given you reason to be worried?”

“Well shit, when you met up with your ex for drinks?”

Brooke had hit out, called Vanessa out on her jealousy.

“Well maybe I do get jealous! But it’s only ‘cuz I don’t ever want to lose you, fuck, I just don’t want to think about you with anybody else, that’s all!”

“But you don’t have to! Priyanka is my friend, that’s it, that’s all there is to it!” Brooke remembers how irritated she’d been, how exasperated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you! Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust her,” Vanessa had sighed frustratedly, pulled another block out.

“Well I’m not going to just not see one of my friends for the rest of our relationship, V!”

“So you’re choosing her over me? That it?” Vanessa had questioned. Brooke still remembers the tears in her eyes. She’d known Vanessa hadn’t meant to say that, she knew Vanessa knew she was being unreasonable. But Brooke had reacted instantly, thinking in absolutes, or perhaps not thinking entirely.

“Fuck, Vanessa, well if it’s that black and fucking white to you then what the hell are we doing anyway?” she’d yelled, the finality still hurting her if she thinks about it. The raised tensions in the room had come to a boiling point. Vanessa had gone quiet.

“What are you saying?”

Brooke had committed and she was still angry, still frustrated. She’d doubled down. “Why the hell are we doing this if there’s no trust in our relationship?”

The realisation had dawned slowly and sickly like tar over Vanessa’s face. “You’re saying you want to break up?”

Brooke hadn’t replied, only stared at the floor. Vanessa had taken it as an answer.

She’d left.

Brooke had regretted it, but she’d known they would make amends. It had just been a silly argument, and things had been said that neither of them meant. She still loved her. They still loved each other. Brooke had given it an hour, waited for her to cool off before she called her to apologise.

Vanessa hadn’t picked up.

Brooke’s still waiting on her to call back.

***

Brooke is ten minutes away from a firm meeting when she gets the text.

V: i’ll be at Rialtos for the next hour

V: your move i guess

She doesn’t even think about the decision, simply acts. She asks Nicky to send her apologies, tell the director that she’s had to go home with stomach pains. If she gets a disciplinary it’ll be worth the risk. She crashes out of her office like a tsunami, her bag and her coat swinging wildly from the crook of her arm. Rialto’s is a five minute walk from her office but she makes it in three even in her stilettos. It’s only when she sees it on the corner on the sidewalk opposite that an overwhelming feeling of panic and sickness hits her like a gut punch. She’s been waiting for this moment for the past month-and-twelve-days (she’s counted), but now that it’s here she almost doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt nerves like this- all of her nerve endings are buzzing like broken strobe lights and every time her heart beats her whole body feels it. It had been different the first time they were supposed to meet up and talk things out because Brooke had been there first, she could sit for a while and psych herself up. But this time Brooke knows that Vanessa is sitting at a table in the bar just across the street, and all that’s separating them is a busy road, a door and a few steps. Brooke steels herself, forces herself to take a few deep breaths as she checks her reflection in the shop window beside her. She looks a fright: no makeup, sleep-deprived bags under her eyes, the only thing remotely presentable about her is her hair which she threw into a low ponytail that morning. Then again, she supposes that Vanessa’s seen her without makeup before. Brooke thinks Vanessa’s seen every possible version of her, apart from of course this one. She takes another deep breath, turns around and stares the bar down as if she’s going to war.

It’s time.

Brooke dashes across the road and it crosses her mind that perhaps it would be better to just let fate take its course and get hit by a yellow taxi, but that’s the coward’s way out so she reaches the bar entranceway, pushes the door open with a huge, held-in breath. Rialto’s is dark inside with dim red lighting, and so even at four in the afternoon it seems as if it’s midnight. There’s red booths with black lacquered tables that shine under the crimson of the lamps positioned above them and the walls are covered in framed pictures, none of which Brooke takes in because she’s searching, slowly yet frantically as if she’s attempting to both prolong and speed up this whole situation. One booth near to her to her right holds a cheerful couple, another on her far left houses an old man drinking a cup of coffee.

And then she sees her.

She’s got her back to the door but Brooke recognises the wave of her blonde hair, the tie-dye of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. She recognises the acrylic nails and the chunky rings that pattern the hand that’s curled around what looks like a French martini on the table. A searing, painful memory of their first date at Le Bernardin wrenches Brooke’s heart. She takes another deep breath and walks forward even though she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stops just at the table and the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

Vanessa looks up at her, her face impassive. Her makeup is perfect, but then Brooke wouldn’t have expected anything else. There’s dark roots at her side parting but Brooke thinks she somehow suits them. Apart from that she looks exactly the same, just how Brooke remembers her.

“Hi,” Brooke greets her feebly. Vanessa somehow communicates a shrug through a blink.

“Hey,” she says, taking her hand off her glass to gesture to the seat opposite her. “Sit.”

Brooke nods as she sits down in the red leather seat, and it’s only then that she notices there’s a second cocktail opposite Vanessa. It looks like a pornstar martini, it’s one of Brooke’s favourites.

“I ordered you one. Figured it might make this easier,” Vanessa explains. Her expression doesn’t break. Brooke is touched by the gesture.

“Thanks,” she says. Her hands shake as she reaches out to take the glass, sips at it and feels the sweetness of the vanilla vodka and the tang of the passionfruit coat her dry mouth. Her stomach’s still churning as Vanessa sits regarding her for a moment. Brooke wants to say something. She wants to immediately apologise for it all, even though she’s left twelve voicemails and twenty texts saying the same thing. She wants to ask how Vanessa is, even though that would be the most idiotic of things to say. Eventually she decides to lead with a compliment.

“You look great.”

Vanessa sniffs. “You don’t.”

Brooke takes the hit, supposes she deserves it. “I’ve not been sleeping great.”

“Yeah. Yvie’s mentioned,” Vanessa looks down at her lap, blinks. When she looks up again she’s clearly ready to speak, and Brooke’s heart is in her mouth. “So, we need to talk properly.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks down at the table, then into Brooke’s eyes. Brooke can tell she’s having a hard time doing so. “Uh, first off I wanna say sorry.”

The apology knocks Brooke for six. She feels herself frown involuntarily. “For what?”

“Well, it was wrong of me to try an’ make you choose between me and your friend. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it but I was jealous, an’ I was hurt. But that don’t excuse it, so I’m sorry.”  

Brooke shakes her head. She’d been annoyed at Vanessa for that at the time, and she’d have maybe appreciated an apology a month ago, but just now it only seems trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Vanessa, you don’t…you don’t need to apologise for this situation.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her and there’s a warning look in her gaze, so Brooke drops her protests and shrugs a little. “But I accept your apology.”

Vanessa nods, clearly following some internal script. Brooke is happy to go along with it, to play her part and say her lines, whatever they’re meant to be. She’s so used to immediately taking control of every situation she finds herself in, and even though her stomach feels sick and she feels as if she’s in an interrogation room she doesn’t mind playing the role of the witness and letting Vanessa be the lawyer for a change. She supposes she is on trial in some way.

“Now…I know that you’re sorry, you’ve made that pretty clear, so I don’t want another apology from you,” Vanessa begins, and part of Brooke doesn’t like that because she does want to say sorry, but maybe that’s just for her own benefit and not Vanessa’s. Vanessa sighs as she continues, looks down at her drink and this time doesn’t break eye contact. “But I need you to know how much you hurt me.”

Brooke winces. She realises Vanessa’s waiting for confirmation. “Okay.”

Vanessa pauses, and the breath she takes is shaky before she speaks again. “I…loved you so much, Brooke Lynn.”

The past tense slices Brooke in half.

“I never loved anyone like that before in my life. An’ I always thought you were too good to be true, like somehow one day I’d wake up and our whole relationship would be a dream. I never stopped tellin’ you how lucky I was or how much I appreciated you or how much I loved you. An’ you never stopped tellin’ me either. You made me feel so loved, an’ so precious, an’ so…fuck, sorry.”

Vanessa’s tone grows frustrated, anger layering with the tears Brooke can see in her eyes as she tips her head up, swipes at them like a tiger to wipe them away. Brooke thinks her heart might be breaking again, halves into quarters.

“An’ so that day, when we had that fight,” Vanessa continues, staring steadfastly at Brooke. “All of that, everything we had…it was like it didn’t matter anymore? Like everything we’d shared an’ everything I’d told you an’ everything you’d told me…like, what, that was all for nothing?”

“It wa-”

“Just lemme get this out, please,” Vanessa puts a hand up, stops her. “It was like everything I knew about you was just…nothing. I didn’t know you anymore. An’ I know it was a stupid fight and we shoulda been able to work that shit out, but…I was hurt. I’m still hurting. You hurt me.”

Vanessa stops. She’s done. Brooke wants to cry. She swallows the feeling down before she speaks.

“I behaved like a dick. And I said stupid things, but by the time they were out I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t mean any of it, Vanessa, I just…opened my mouth and said whatever got there first. That’s my fault, I know that. And I know I’ve apologised before but I haven’t had the chance to do it in person, so I’m honestly so sorry for hurting you. For making it seem like our relationship meant nothing to me. Like you meant nothing to me. You mean the world to me, you still do,” Brooke sighs, trying to make the deep breath she takes to stave off her tears subtle. She can’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when there’s tears in her own so she fixes her gaze on the passionfruit half floating in her drink as she continues. “And you don’t have to accept it, just as long as you hear it.”

“I know,” Vanessa says instantly. She looks calmer now she’s said her piece and heard Brooke’s, and she takes a sip from the two little black straws sticking out of the martini glass. She suddenly rolls her eyes, a bitter smile spreading across her face. “Fuck you, Brooke Lynn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean…fuck you for making me still love you. Fuck me for still loving you,” Vanessa sighs, resigned. The words make Brooke’s heart give a leap and she can’t help the smile she instantly tries to suppress and fails. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, her expression turning serious. “But that don’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. You don’t have to,” Brooke says guiltily. She thinks about saying it, wonders if it’ll guilt-trip Vanessa and she doesn’t want that, but indulgently and selfishly she says it anyway. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

Vanessa winces as if she’s been shot, her expression instantly turning into one of discomfort and her eyes squeezing shut. Brooke frowns. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Christ. You’re so fuckin’ Canadian,” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly as she puts her head in her hands, and Brooke probably would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been trying to repair the most important relationship of her life so far. Brooke feels awkward and she’s in this conversation without a map, unsure which direction it’s going in.

“Where do we go from here?”

Vanessa drains her glass, foam and syrup all that’s left. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over. There’s a tiny smile that’s back on her face, and it makes Brooke’s hopes start to climb.

“Well,” she shrugs a little, her guard still up but ever so slightly lowered. “You can start by buyin’ me another drink an’ we can take it from there.”

Brooke nods, grabs her purse and almost sprints to the bar. She orders another French martini and another pornstar- she thinks she’ll be needing it. As she waits for their drinks and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker cuts through the air, Brooke sneaks a look at Vanessa in the booth. She’s so gorgeous. Brooke’s happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Just as she makes to turn back around, Vanessa’s head snaps up from the phone in her hand and their eyes meet.

Vanessa’s gaze is soft and the small smile on her face is warm.

Maybe they’re going to be okay.

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends //ch.5

| prev | next | masterlist

wc: 1741

pairing: TBD x reader

notes *this is the version of the song they cover 

chapter 5: We drive, We Film

The music is blaring when Atsumu pulls up. He's bobbing his head along to the guitar, hardly sparing you a glance as you slide into the passenger seat. Despite that, you offer a quick greeting as the car speeds off before you even finish putting your seatbelt on. You nod along to the familiar song as the two of you shoot through the street, 

“And I don't care if you're sick, I don't care if you're contagious,” you begin Atsumu chiming in matching your pitch.  

“I would kiss you even if you were dead” “Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life, cause I’d do anything to hold your hand.” 

You find your hand hanging out the window as you two sing along to the rest of the song. Once it ends, Atsumu lowers the volume, enough to have a conversation. “I see ya changed from a sweaty slob and are now looking better.” You roll your eyes at the bassist, and had he not been driving you probably would’ve resorted to slapping the back of his head. “Why do I willingly hang out with you. And, where are we going anyways?” You question, remembering your promise to Iwaizumi

 You ignore his comment about you clearly not having any other friends as you send a message to Iwaizumi confirming your location. You let out a little laugh at Iwaizumi’s complaint about the blonde always running his plans, before locking your phone. “Who ya texting?” Atsumu takes his first real look at you for the night as he slows at the red light. “Iwa, just telling him if I die tonight it's all your fault.Your driving fucking sucks” You follow up the sentence flicking off your friend who looks unbothered. 

“Speaking of our dear Iwa, you know something that me and Kuroo don't.” Your eyes widen just the tiniest bit as he grants you a knowing smirk. “But I’ll let that go for now. How's the tattoo healing?” Just like that Atsumu’s voice shifts into a more serious tone and you groan loudly. You instantly catch on to the real meaning of the question. How are you doing?  “Not you too”. 

“C’mon, I’m just checking on ya (Y/N). Making sure you’re ok. Took me a minute but then I remembered you showed me the picture a few months ago.” His gaze focuses back on the road giving you at least the relief from his stare down. “First Iwa, now you. And I know Kuroo is gonna pick my brain the second he gets the chance,” your words come out in a huff of annoyance. “What can we say, we care about ya. The band would flop without our front man.” His tease is enough to lighten the tension that began to grow as you rolled your eyes again. “Our combined hotness would drop by like 90% without me.” 

“More like 5%” He could only laugh as you promptly told him to go to hell, as you turned the music back up some. The rest of the drive was void of any conversation. The only noises coming from the radio and any time either of you would sing along to what was playing out. Atsumu would only shoot you annoyed looks, whenever you’d skip one of the songs he had to which you'd just shrug without a care.  

“Hey Samu.” You and Atsumu spoke at the same time as you slid into the booth. “What are you two sharing a single brain cell now?” Your look of disgust is enough to cause the gray haired twin to laugh. “The only thing I’d ever share with Atsumu is my foot up his ass.” 

“That’s a real cute way of saying you’re the dumb one of us.” The blonde catches the wrist of your arm that aims a punch at his shoulder easily. “Take you and your shitty dye job over there next to your brother,” you mutter pushing your bandmate out of the booth next to you. He obliges, moving so that him and Osamu are both sitting across from you. 

“Now Tsumu’s stupidity is gonna seep into my head.”

 ---- 

“Hello boys, and piss head,” you greet cheerily as you enter the unlocked door of Iwaizumi’s place. You shift the drink carrier in your hand as you remove your bag, lightly placing it on the floor. The owner only raises his eyebrows at you while your guitarist just laughs.”What’d he do now,” You make your rounds handing off the coffee drinks you’d bought for your bandmates. You stop by Iwaizumi first who accepts it with a grateful smile. Next is Kuroo, who raises the cup in thanks. “Every time I hang out with him, I wonder why I do. He sucks,” you speak before handing Atsumu his drink. “Osamu really is the better twin, not by much though.” 

“You claim to hate me, yet you bring me food. Thanks mom,” the bassist mocks. You mutter something about it being the only thing that gets him to shut up before shifting your attention towards Kuroo. “Hey, can you go get our instruments, couldn’t hold them cause of the drinks.” He only nods, you asking him to please lock your door after. 

“We’re filming that song today right?” You nod at Atsumu’s question. While he goes back to typing away on his phone you settle onto the couch next to Iwaizumi. He looks at you and you raise your eyebrows in excitement. He shoots you a small smile and a thumbs up, and you struggle to contain your excitement. You shoot him a knowing look that the two of you have to talk later as Kuroo enters carrying both your guitar cases. “Bring my drink down would you,” is the only thing he says before making his way towards the basement. The three of you wordlessly follow.  

“Why are we doing this song again,”

“Come on old man, it’ll be fun, plus our dear (Y/N) gets to show off that growl today. Doesn't happen very much,” Kuroo smirks at Iwaizumi, shooting you a quick look from where you are tuning your guitar. “Plus, the viewers wanted us to do Gaga.” 

“Oh, you're just happy ya get to be heard more with this song,” Atsumu chimes in before fiddling with his bass. “Maybe,” is Kuroos response as he sits on a stool to tune his own instrument. “Besides, Judas is a pretty badass song. And our arrangement is pretty sick.” Iwaizumi can’t help but agree with you, opting to get the video equipment set up. After he finished you all ran through the song a few times before you were ready to go.  

“Hey guys, we’re Mirrors For Friends,” the four of you said in unison. Before introducing yourselves as individuals. “So, you guys asked, and we answered. You all wanted us to do Lady Gaga so bad,” Kuroo started before pausing for his self-proclaimed dramatic effect. “So, Judas here we are.”

 ----

 “Judas- Gaga” You practically screamed out the last words of the songs, before bursting out into laughter. The entirety of the song both Kuroo and Atsumu were making ridiculous facial expressions at one another, and with you being in the middle of the two, you saw it all. That, paired with post singing adrenaline and the fact that you all were even singing it in the first place seemed absolutely comical You had been so caught in laughter that you didn’t even notice Iwaizumi come up from behind his drums to nudge at camera perched on the tripod in front of you. 

“Fuck- do you guys see what I have to go through with these guys. Iwa is the only normal one,” you joked out after your laughter died down. You ignored the said members exclamations about not being that bad. “Alright that's it for us today, we hope you enjoyed, and we’ll see you when we see you.” You stuck up a peace sign heading towards the camera and picking it up. “Say bye you idiots.  

You first pointed the camera at Kuroo who was the closest to you. “I feel like (Y/N) is catching my double chin at this angle. Stream our songs and we love you.” With that Kuroo just walked off the frame, and you turned towards Atsumu. “Say bye to the video fake blondie.” 

“I just want to say that I’m the hottest member of the band and-hey” Atsumu exclaimed as you just cut his segment short, before walking to Iwaizumi.  

“You know the drill Iwa. Your turn” This time you moved the camera up and down as if you were giving the audience a chance to check him out. “Now this is the real hottest member of this band,” you teased before aimling back towards his face. You stifled your laugh at Atsumu and Kuroo in the background yelling for him to take his shirt off. “I hate this band. See you all in the next video.” With your drummers closing you stopped the recording before letting out a sigh of relief.  

“Well that was exhausting,” you automatically made your way to the couch where you had your laptop resting. “I can probably get this edited and uploaded by tomorrow guys.” You felt the couch dip next to you and the voice of the band’s guitarist. “I can do it. I know it's been an interesting week for you,” he gestures towards your ribcage, where your new tattoo rests under your tshirt. The tone of his voice lets you know there’s no point in countering. When Iwaizumi gets into his band labeled ‘dad’ mode, you won't win. “You're acting as if I have a choice,” you huff handing him the camera’s memory card.  

“Shit- guys, I gotta go. I forgot the team got a last-minute practice match with another school,” Atsumu’s panicked voice cut through the room. “Were done here right?” He looked between the three of you sighing in relief as he quickly started putting up his instrument. “Hey, don’t forget next week we’re at Bauhaus.” He only nodded mindlessly, before making his way to the stairs, before stopping halfway. “That's the 3rd, right?” 

Kuroo’s thumbs out caused him to practically run up the stairs and out the door. Once the bassist leaves, he plopped himself next to you on the other side of the couch. “So lovely band members of mine, what secret are you two keeping from me and Tsumu.”

⤿taglist: @o51oc​ @suna-allie​

a/n: yall know that one tiktok audio from what bgc? wheres like awkwardly quiet then its like “hey guys”--- thats how I feel after coming back to this fic after a month. But yeah life and then more LIFE. So with that, sorry this chapter is kinda awkward writing bc i literally havent written for this in that month at all. Anyways, now that we’ve gotten our band dynamics established we are kicking off the real plot starting next chapter. I still don’t know which boy to do so pls help a loser out. I think I’m gonna take out the possibility of Iwa though ????

[angellhardy]

off limits

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader 

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: mild swearing

AN: Helloooo. This is my first BoRhap story and if you’re interested its going to be a series! I think probably 3 or 4 parts!  If its like i imagine it, its going to be very angsty (but i love it). Also english isnt my first language so there probably will be some mistakes :) 

PS: the first few lines about the reader being pregnant is a foreshadowing about whats to come! The rest of the story tells how the reader ended up at this point! (just clarifying bc there was some confusion) ENJOY!!

next part

You didn’t know what to do. What to think. Your mouth hang open, getting dry from your heavy breathing. You stared at the stick in front of you with your eyes fixated on the little blue plus sign. With your hands shaking you picked up the other two tests that you took from the bathroom counter and looked at their results, just to see another confirmation of your worst fear. You were really pregnant. You feel your knees go weak as you let yourself slide on the bathroom floor hoping the cold tiles on the floor will calm your nerves but it’s useless. You let out a shaky breath before you mutter a desperate “fuck” and close your eyes to stop the tears from falling.

When you got a call from Brian you were surprised. He hadn’t called you in a few months, which you understood with him being on tour in America and the band really taking off. But to be honest you just thought that’s that it for your friendship and he would forget about you eventually with his new lifestyle, which hurt but you were coming to terms with it. He was one of your dearest friends since you were 12, maybe even your best friend. You saw each other every day and were like brother and sister, although some people around town always gossiped that you were more but you and Brian just laughed about it. Your friendship started to strain when you two went to different colleges and only saw each other a few times a month. He would call you every other day to tell you about his band smile and how he missed you and how you should come to their next gig. But unfortunately you barely made it to any gigs, so you only saw smile once live before it evolved into queen. 

That was the day you met Roger Taylor for the first time. You remember walking into the small pub where they were playing, cigarette smoke clouding the room and people swaying to the music on the speakers. Brian told you to come early so you can chat before the gig so you did. At this time you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks so you were excited to see him again and to finally witness him playing with his band. Without thinking you walked yourself over to the bar.

“What can I get you?” Asked the bartender with a friendly smile.

“Oh just a beer please!” You answered and had your beverage just a few seconds later in your hand. You turned around, facing the pub and started searching for Brian and his messy mop of hair but couldn’t find him anywhere.

Suddenly a man next to you started speaking. “Looking for your Prince Charming? Because I think you just found him.” he said with a smirk. Stunned you looked at the man that just started speaking. Messy blonde hair, big blue eyes and wearing a floral button down shirt with the top buttons open. You have to admit he was gorgeous. “I’m roger!” The man said ripping you out of your thoughts and seemingly caught you staring at him, causing his smirk to only grow more intense. “I’m (y/n).” You said introducing yourself to the stranger. Roger leaned closer to your ear and asked in a sly voice “What a pretty name....so are you here alone?” Your breath hitched as you felt his hot breath on your neck. Turning your head to answer you suddenly realize how dangerously close your faces were. Trying to sound calm you replied “No...I’m actually here with Bri...” when you were cut off by your name being called from across the room. You turned to see Brian walk over to you and before you knew it, he picked you up from the ground and swirled you around making a few people stare at you. “Brian stop it! Let me down!” you said between laughter with your arms tight around his neck.

“Sorry i’m just so excited that you’re actually here!” He beamed at you with happiness before he finally put you to the ground again.

Roger cleared his throat behind you making Brian glance at him suddenly like he didn’t realize roger was there too. “Oh roger, here, I want you to meet someone. This is (y/n), my sister!” Roger suddenly widened his eyes before you could clear the air. “Not his real sister. We’re not blood related but he’s still like a big brother to me.” You said looking up to see Brian smile at you fondly, totally missing how your last sentence made Roger relax again. “Me and roger actually just met a few minutes ago.” You continued speaking, a smirk growing on your face.

“Oh is that so?” Brian asked, turning to look at roger seemingly already knowing what you were going to say. Roger just looked at you, shaking his head at you and trying to stop you.

“Yeah he just told me that he’s my Prince Charming.” You said, watching Roger as he looked uncomfortably around the bar, avoiding looking at you and Brian. Your best friend sighed beside you annoyed and just said “Roger. No.” which made Roger snap his head at you both. “What?” he asked with a scuff.

“Roger, (y/n) is off limits. Not her.” Brian said with a stern face and serious voice.

“That’s not really your decision to make, is it?” Roger shot back with a grin.

You just watched as they talked, not knowing what to say. “Roger, no. You can’t have her.” Brian said, taking your hand and dragging you away from roger and across the room. Roger quickly got up from his seat and walked after you both. He walked beside you while Brian walked in front of you both, clearing the way for you, not noticing that roger followed you. Roger leaned closer to you again and whispered, so only you could hear it “Makes me just want you more, princess.” You looked at him shocked and he just smirked and winked at you, before disappearing in the crowd of people on the dance floor.

When you watched them perform on stage you really tried to focus on Brian. You really really did. But somehow your eyes always found their way to the blonde drummer behind him. Watching as he drummed with such ease, always a smile on his face as he sang into his microphone. It was addictive to watch him. Apparently you stared at him a bit to long because your eyes met his for a second and you quickly looked away, knowing that roger caught you and formed a smirk on his face again. From this moment basically every time you saw each other over the months it was Rogers goal to make you blush, to tease you with flirty phrases or come dangerously close to you without reason. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes you flirted back and sometimes you shut him down. It was honestly a lot of fun but never blossomed into something more as you knew Roger and knew how he was just a lady’s man. You refused to be one of these girls which relieved Brian more than you know. He just couldn’t see you get hurt, especially not by one of his best friends.

But the flirting between you and Roger never calmed down, not even as smile turned into queen and they got a new bassist and a new lead singer. They started working on an album shortly after that. A few times Brian invited you to come to the studio with them and you could already feel it back then that they would be big. And you were right. You saw them less and less as they toured around the country and when they left for America you already knew that you wouldn’t hear from any of them for some time.

And now it’s been 13 weeks and suddenly you heard Brian’s voice at the other end of the line.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Is that you?” He spoke.

“Brian?” You ask, surprised to hear him.

“Oh (y/n)! Yeah it’s me! It’s so good to hear you again! Sorry I didn’t call sooner, we were so busy with touring and recording the new album.”

“Bri, it’s alright. I totally understand.” You answered with a smile on your face.

“I wish you could see us. They really love us here. Every night is sold out.” You could hear the happiness in his voice.

“I’m really happy for you guys, that sounds fantastic. But I do have to ask, why are you calling me now? Not that I mind of course but is there a reason for it?”

“You know me so well (y/n).” He laughs. “We are coming home for a week. Next week actually and I really really want to see you again. I have so much to tell you! And we had the idea to all eat dinner together. You and me and the band. They would like to hang out with you again. And Freddie would like you to meet his girlfriend Mary, so she would be there too.” A grin formed on your face just thinking about it. Finally talking to Brian again. Freddie calling you darling and telling you the funniest stories. Deaky just making weird faces at these stories which makes them even better. And Roger shamelessly flirting with you. Yeah your heart made a little jump at the last part but you quickly shove that feeling away.

“That sounds amazing Brian! Why don’t you all come to dinner at my place. I could cook for you all.” You suggested as you had a quite big flat and loved cooking. “That would be wonderful (y/n). Is Sunday around 7 okay for you?”

“It’s perfect!” You said happily. Brian has to hang up shortly afterwards but not before telling you again how excited he is for Sunday.

The next few days went by in a blur. You only really focused on the preparations for Sunday. You cleaned your apartment everywhere, organized enough seats and planned what to cook. You went with a simple salad, bread and lasagna, because you wanted to do something everyone enjoys.

And then the day was finally here. Dinner was nearly ready and you were doing the last bit of your makeup as you heard a loud knock at your door. You practically ran to the door and had the biggest smile on your face as you opened the door. The boy in front of you mirrored your expression as he walked in and took you in his arms. “It’s so good to see you again (y/n).” Brian said as he pulled you tighter.

“I’m so happy you’re here again.” You replied to him. “Okay enough of you two, we also want a piece of her so move over Brian.” Freddie said with a dramatic eye roll before he hugged you too. Mary and John followed soon after. And then there was just Roger left. He looked as gorgeous as you remembered. His hair was a bit longer and he wore a tight shirt with a red leather jacket over it. “Hello angel. I hope you missed me as much as I missed you.” he said with a wink before taking you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you felt his hands slide across your hips onto your lower back. You notice the smell of his perfume and cigarette smoke and take it deep in. “You’ve been here for 5 seconds and are already flirting with me again?” You ask as you start to let go of him. “I will never stop flirting with you, princess. You’re just too pretty.” He said, making you blush, so you quickly look to the ground, trying to hide it.   “You two lovebirds can make out another time, now it’s time for food!“ Freddie shouted from the table you set up and you quickly got a few feet away from Roger. „Oh shut up Fred“ Roger said as he took as seat next to him. You noticed Brian’s serious face in Rogers direction but chose to not acknowledge it. You told everyone what you made as put the food on the table. „Looks really good (y/n).“ Mary said as she put something on her plate. „Thank you.“ you replied as you sat down next to Brian. “So how is living on the road in America?” You asked in the round. “Oh it’s great darling! People over there finally see me as the star that I always was!” Freddie exclaimed, making everyone laugh. “Could you see a lot of the cities?” Mary asked them and they all shook their heads. “Not really. Most of the time we arrive at the hotel, are there for some time and then go to the venue and from the venue straight to the hotel again before we leave the city behind us in the morning.” John explained as he put another fork of your food in his mouth. “Well Roger leaves a bit more behind than just the city.” Brian said in a annoyed look. Confused you look at him and than roger, who just looks pissed at Brian. “What do you mean?” you ask Brian. “Well I can remember there were countless times when some girl he took home the night before called him screaming at him why she woke up alone in the morning. But that’s nothing new for Rog.” He recalls looking straight at Roger with a smirk on his face. Roger looked like he was ready to throw hands. You knew exactly why Brian told the story just now. To remind you of how Roger is to the woman he slept with. And it hurt to hear that. You have to admit there is this little crush that you have on Roger and hearing how he slept around made your heart sink a bit. But you quickly brushed it off as you asked Mary what she was doing as a profession to change the subject.

After dinner you all talked for a bit before Mary and Freddie said that they’ll go home now as it was a long day. John said he’ll tag along a few seconds later. Which left you with just Roger and Brian and an awkward silence between you three. You wanted both of them to leave actually. You were a bit hurt by Roger that’s true but he could do whatever he wanted. You were mad at Brian for trying to tell you once again what you can and cannot do. “I think I’ll also go to bed soon, so if you don’t mind.” You said standing up, giving them a hint. “We can help clean up, if you want” roger said. “No thanks, I would like you two to go actually. I’ll clean up tomorrow and now I’m just really tired.” You tried to explain without seeming to distressed. “But we barely got to talk today, (y/n)!” Brian said as he stood up and walked a bit over to you. “Well I think you said enough for today.” You answered and looked him in the eyes, to make sure he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “We have the whole week Brian. I’ll call you tomorrow morning okay?” You tried to clear the air a bit. 

“Please just let me stay 5 more Minutes. Please (y/n).” he said as he looked at you with pleading eyes. Knowing you couldn’t resist your best friend you nodded at him. “I think I’ll leave you two alone.” Roger said as he got up and walked over to the door. You followed him there to say goodbye. “Thank you for the food. It was delicious. And it was really nice seeing you again.” he said in the most genuine voice. “It was nice seeing you too, Roger.” you replied with a smile on your lips. To his surprise you pulled him in for a hug again. You didn’t see his face but you just knew that he smirked as he put his arms around you. “Make sure you’ll dream of me tonight, princess.” he said as he let go off you as winked once more before exiting through the door. 

You turn around and see on Brians face that he just watched the scene in front of him. You saw that he didn’t approve. “Relax Brian.” you said as you started clearing the table. “You know i just don’t want you to get hurt. He’s not good for you (y/n).” he said in a stern voice.

“I think you made that very clear tonight with your little speech about all of Rogs groupies. I mean really Brian? What a way to ruin the fucking mood!” you spat at him. “I’ve known Roger for 2 years now and nothing ever happened between us but you still get weird as soon as we’re both in the same room. I’m an adult Brian! I can do what I want!” you said getting louder. Brian looked at you a bit shocked but quickly shook that off. “I’m sorry (y/n), okay? I’m just very protective of you because you mean a lot to me.” he said in a softer tone now. 

“I know Bri but who even says that i want something from Roger?” you asked him getting frustrated with the situation. 

“I see it in your eyes. The way you look at him is not like the way you look at me or the other boys. I know you like him (y/n). I just wish you didn’t”

[multifandom-kpop-scenarios]

Hello. May i get seventeen scenario about their s/o who has important position in a company (ceo, etc) who rarely tell them what's wrong bcs she doesnt wanna bother him and one day she's like faint//break down bcs of the stress? Hehe is this too detail? If yes, then pls do whatever you'd love to write ❤ ( the member involved is up to you 😁 ). Thankyou! Have a great day 🙇

Hello, Thank you for sending in your request!! Thank you for giving us the opportunity to write for a member that we have not written for yet. Let us know what you think and don’t be shy :)   Thank you again and N’joy!!

PAR T_T IME

Admin AJ

It’s the first corporate meeting of the new year. You are sitting at a table with other executives and administrators of your corporation.“Here we have a graph of the corporation income through the last decade.”

You sit and watch as the executive uses his pointer to follow the height of each bar.

“As you can see, this graph represents last year and the previous year before that.”

You see that the two graphs have minimal changes between each other but you did notice that last year’s income did have a subtle decline.

“Due to last years low profits, there needs to be a reduction in labor cost.”

You raise your hand, the executive acknowledges you with his pointer, “Yes, Ms. l/n.”

“Mr. Lee when you suggest a reduction, what do you mean by that?”

The executive looks at you with disbelief, “A reduction, as in lay-offs, letting people go.”

He then turns his attention to the other administrators within the room continuing with his presentation. “I suggest we start with those too unfit to carry on in the industry. I mean who can argue with an early retirement.” Some of the other executives laugh, as if some peoples life were something to toy with.

You cut into their laughter, “Those employees that are still working are those that cannot afford an early retirement.”

They made a quick comeback, not even considering the worlds they were about to destroy, “You cannot afford to keep employees if you do not make any profit. We are barely breaking even.” This didn’t sit right with you, at all, and you quickly tried to come up with some kind of compromise that didn’t result in people losing their jobs, “What if we suggest a pay cut. I’m sure we can reason with the employees…”

The man at the head of the table raised his brow at your suggestion, “Are you willing to risk the company as a whole just to keep some ensure everyone has a job?”

The executive prevented you from saying anything more as he continued to speak.“If you continue to think this way, everyone will be jobless. Remember it’s not personal, but ‘Business is Business.’ As for now I believe this meeting is finished.”

————

You watch as the conference room begins to empty as everyone gets up to leave. You were very much aware of the whispers among the other administrators about your supposed carelessness. Before he leaves, Mr. Lee places a folder on the table in front of you, “Here is the list of employees that up for debate about their employment. You can look over them to make a final decision.”

You open the folder seeing that it contained a list of at least 50 employees in it along with their information. Some have been with the company since the beginning, Hwang Kinam; 15 years in the company, While others are gaining a fresh start, like Kwang Jihae; graduate from Seoul University. You continue to look through the list, some have families that needed to be supported, like Kim Minsun; caretaker of two grandchildren. There was not one person over the other that deserved to be let go. Each of them performed to the best of their ability. You couldn’t make a choice not here, not now.The atmosphere was suffocating within the meeting room and you were desperate to leave. You decide to work from home, not wanting to have a chance encounter with any of the individuals on the list. You collect your belongings and head for the elevator, the things in your arms seemed heavier than usual today. ‘A few more step,’ you catch yourself thinking reaching out for the button next to the silver doors.

“Oh thank goodness. You are still here.” A soft, kind voice reaches you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, and you realized today was not your lucky day.

“Oh! Mrs.Kim.” You say as you turn to greet the older lady, your heart aches as you remember that she is one of the employees up for debate.

“I went to your office and noticed that you were not there.” She lifts her hand up revealing a small box. “Here share this with that boyfriend of yours.” She placed the box in your hand.

You feel guilty accepting the gift but she insists. “Mrs.Kim this is lovely. I can’t accept this. Maybe you should share this with your grandchildren.”

She smiles at you, “Nonsense,  those kids are sweet enough. Please accept this as a thank you for giving this old lady a chance to provide you her services.” She bows and leaves, with purpose fueling her steps.

You feel your throat tighten as you bow deeply, “No, thank you for everything.” You attempt a small smile, “Have a good night Mrs. Kim.” You quickly step into the elevator not giving a chance to have your facade fall.

——

Once at home you began to make phone calls trying to reach out to partnered corporations. You sat at your desk which files and paperwork cover. You were keeping your mind busy, trying to multitask between typing on your laptop and making phone calls.

“Hello Director Park, I was calling about that project we had discussed earlier this month. Is there a possible way to set it in motion?”

You here the front door open and look up to see, your boyfriend of 3 years,taking off his shoes by the front door. He was wearing a comfortable outfit, he must be coming straight from practice. He looks up, eyes immediately looking to were you currently sat. His light brown eyes warm with affection, curl slightly upwards at the end, crinkling sightly as a smile spread across his face. He does a small wave, you smile, despite your current mood, he had this effect on you.

You sat and hoping it was convincing enough to make him not worry about your condition right now. The phone was still pressed to your ear as you received not completely reassuring news,“Okay you’ll consider. Thank you very much.” You hang up your phone, trying not to get discouraged yet.

As you hung up the phone, you felt a soft pressure on the top of your head. You turn to see Joshua, eye level with you as he crouched down to your level. He takes your busy hands away from their task, as he rubs them. “You feel a little cold,” he chuckles as he tries to warm up your hands. He looks toward the kitchen “Have you eaten yet, Y/n?”

It hits you then, you were too preoccupied with work that you forgot to make dinner. “Josh, I’m sorry.” You apologize, you hadn’t meant to forget to make the dinner. You didn’t want to burden Joshua, so you went to get up to make something really quickly.

He kissed your hands as he stood up, he held one hand up like the stop sign, “There’s no need to be. Hang tight.”

You gaze lingers as you watch the busy back of Joshua, currently digging through the cupboards for your dinner.

“Okay tonights menu consist of” Joshua creates his own drum roll as he sets down two package of ramen, one behind the other, as he says “We have Chicken flavor” You can hear the crackling of plastic as he shuffles the packages around. “And beef!”

“What does the chef recommend.” you play along.

Joshua’s eyes light up with amusement, and he puts his hand up to his chin, thinking, “I like beef in general.”

You laugh, “I’ll take the beef.”

“Coming right up! A bowl of beef ramen for the pretty lady.” The once quiet kitchen is now lively as you watch Joshua prepare the ramen.

You get up from where you are sitting and walked towards Joshua. You wrap your arms around his back, attempting to make him feel how grateful you were for having someone like him.

You rub his back affectionately, your version of a message, and say, “You must be tired.”

“Today was just a meeting discussing about our upcoming comeback and some vocal practice today. So it wasn’t too bad.” He chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling, “As soon as I walked through our front door and saw you working, I felt better. Besides it looks like you had a tough day. Anything happen at work?” He questioned as he turned to face you as he gets ready to listen, giving you all his attention as he always does.

“Oh you had a meeting today too. How was that?”

Your hands tighten on the front of his shirt and your breath is shaky. You averted you gaze away from his eyes, worried he would see the truth.

“It was okay.” You answer briefly, not giving any details.

Before any more questions could be asked, your phone rings and you sigh, “I should probably answer that.”

You pull away from his comforting embrace and the kitchen to answer your phone. Its one of your partnered corporations that seemed the most promising to help with your predicament. You don’t say much as you hang up the phone after thanking them for their consideration. You stand for a moment with the phone still pressed to your ear despite its silence, trying to process what was said. ‘Okay’ you think, ‘I can think of something else.’ You try to convince yourself that you can find another way. ‘Just because you couldn’t get any partnered companies to help doesn’t mean that you will still have to lay off some people…’ a tear escapes its confinement from your eyes.’right?’ You were close to breaking and you were struggling to keep yourself together. ‘Come on, _____.’ you stifle a sob, ‘You can do this.’ You say to yourself, hoping that saying these words to yourself would kickstart your brain into thinking of what to do next.

“Oh! You bought a cake?” Joshua questioned from the kitchen, reminding you of the world that was still going on around you. With the mention of the cake from Mrs.Kim, you felt the onset of a completely new break down. One for those you were too incompetent to help. You tried to stay quiet but you couldn’t calm yourself down.

Your attempts to try to keep yourself together failed as you felt yourself slowly become undone. The tears and sniffles were unable to be calmed as you felt a little sob come up. Quiet, was no longer an option as you felt a warm pair of arms wrap you in a comforting way pushin your head gently to their chest. Joshua placed his hand on your head and ran his hand down, trailing your hair. The slow pace he went at and the beats of his heart you could faintly hear both working to calm you down. “Im sorry,” were the only words you could get out at this moment. Joshua in that moment just embraces you, pulling you closer to his body and just holds you staying quiet as you cry.

After you were able to speak again, you tell him what has happened at your work. You also told him that you felt bad about breaking down in front of him.

He smiles as he says, “Trust me. Even if I am busy I am more than willing to listen to your happiness and joy.” He placed his hands on your cheeks, wiping your tears away. His hands pulling you to look at him. “But I also want you to share with me the concerns, stressors, and sadness you feel. The weight of your world is much easier if I am there beside you carrying some of the weight too, just as you do for me.”