#cause i got drunk on his family christmas n aired out all the fucked up shit he’s done to me in the last two years

[lilbruisedbaby]

lmfaooo bye

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

[thefanficmonster]

I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything.  I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time.  Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement. 

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face. 

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight.  “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @symphony-butterfly  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @baby-iyania  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @pinkhairedsapphic  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap  @maybe-im-dead-idk  @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade  @chaoticgayandnerdy  @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @amysingh2512  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @faepetersen  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

I Got You (Part 1)

Summary: The reader is celebrating her two year anniversary with her fiance when her best friend from childhood, Jensen, calls. Something’s wrong with him and he tries to play it off once he remembers what night it is for her but the reader isn’t budging and that may be a good thing for the both of them...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 4,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, vomiting, lying, mention of alcoholism, fluff

A/N: This is a little different for me but I’m really please with how it turned out. Enjoy!

_______

“This looks delicious, babe,” said Andrew as he sat down at the table. You hummed, a little annoyed that he hadn’t let you know he’d be home two hours late. On your anniversary. Your two year anniversary. You wouldn’t mind if he ever let you know but he never, never did and always got mad when you brought it up. You poked at the food and he took a bite, making a face. “It’s a little cold.”

“Well that’s what happens when you reheat it in the microwave,” you said. He bit his tongue and continued to eat quietly, a bit of tension still in the air.

“How was your day?” he asked when he was nearly done with his food.

“Fine. Yours?” you asked, picking at your salad and ignoring the chicken.

“Good. I’m sorry I was late, babe. Why don’t we go out to eat?” he asked.

“It’s our anniversary. I wanted to make you dinner,” you said.

“I ate it,” he said. “You seem hungry still.”

“I’m fine. I just want to watch a movie or something,” you said. He didn’t say anything as he ducked into the bedroom and changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a hoodie. You cleaned up the dishes and went to the bedroom. You grabbed leggings and an old big t-shirt of Jensen’s you’d stolen from his place somewhere around season 10 if you had to guess by the number just under the back collar. You padded into the bathroom and changed out of your skinny jeans and crop top. You took off the new black lingerie you had on and put on something more comfortable. Andrew wouldn’t even notice.

You walked out of the bedroom and found him on the couch, watching some action movie. You sat down in his side and saw your phone light up at the end of the couch. A glance showed it was Jensen and that you had four missed calls from him.

“Did you put my phone on silent?” you asked, reaching over for it.

“It is our anniversary,” he said.

“Yeah and I’m also one of Jensen’s emergency contacts,” you said, rolling your eyes and quickly answering. “Jay?”

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. Something was wrong. His voice was off and it took him a minute to talk again. “Can you come over? I just found out something and I could use you right now.”

“I thought you were in Toronto this week to film for The Boys,” you said.

“I was. Flew down to Dallas for my brother’s birthday earlier. More free time and all, trying to see the family more,” he said.

“What’s he want?” sighed Andrew. You ignored him and heard Jensen take a shaky breath.

“Did someone die?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he said. “No. I found out something though and...I just grabbed a rental car and drove home the past few hours. I had to get out of there.”

“Are you alright?” you asked, already hating the pit forming in your stomach. You’d known him most of your life. You didn’t remember life without him to be honest. Sure, he was away a lot when he filmed but he was back more often now that he was doing shorter gigs and you’d always been there for each other, even during the really busy years. “Buddy.”

“No, I don’t think I’m okay,” he said. He was quiet before you heard him suck in a gasp. “Fuck. It’s your anniversary. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. God, like Andrew doesn’t hate me enough already. I’m so sorry. Please enjoy your night, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re my best friend and you are so not alright,” you said. “I’m gonna come over.”

“It’s our anniversary!” said Andrew as you turned to glare at him.

“Y/N, don’t. I’m-” said Jensen as you got up.

“Where the fuck are you going?” said Andrew.

“Jensen is important to me, Andrew. He’s always gonna be important to me. I know you don’t like him but he needs me right now. You don’t even care. You didn’t care about dinner or the anniversary or putting in a little bit of effort. I used to really like you too, you know. When we got engaged though, I saw what you really wanted. Well guess what. I’m not your mother. I’m not your maid and I faked it every time,” you said.

“You’re mad at me? He’s the one ruining our anniversary!” said Andrew.

“Y/N, I’m gonna go. I’m sorry,” said Jensen before you heard him hang up. You groaned and went over to the front hall to grab your jacket. You shoved your phone in your pocket as Andrew stalked over.

“Gonna go sleep with your other boyfriend, hm?”

“Something bad happened to him and frankly, the day I introduced you to him was the day you started all this. You have hated my relationship with him from the start. He has tried so hard to be your friend and you’re always mean and you leave him out. Even your friends think it’s a dick move.”

“You want your best friend or me? Cause I don’t like him and I’m never going to,” he said. 

“I hope you treat the next girl better,” you said. You took off your ring and slammed it on the front table before grabbing your keys and tugging on your boots.

“Whore,” he mumbled.

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife any day. I’ll move my stuff out tomorrow,” you said. You slammed the door shut after yourself and took a deep breath. You weren’t as upset as you thought you’d be. You’d been considering taking a break with him for the past few months but there was no going back after that. Jensen had never been anything but kind to him and always respectful of your and Andrew’s time together.

You skipped down the stairs of the apartment building and down to the garage, rushing over to your car quickly. Something was still very wrong with Jensen and you needed to get to him asap.

“Jensen,” you said twenty minutes later, finding him outside on the balcony off his bedroom, sitting in a chair with his knees tucked to his chest. There was a half full large bottle of whiskey on the ground and the plastic wrapper from where he’d opened it. His back was to you and he turned his head away as you stepped outside. “Jay, what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. You put a hand on his forehead and forced him to look at you. He was drunk. He didn’t start drinking until he’d hung up with you obviously. He was upset too and it was so rare of you to see him cry. 

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. He let you tug him up and into his bathroom. You flipped on the light in the toilet and sat him down in front of it. “Did you eat dinner? Yes or no?”

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Did you eat on the plane? At the airport?”

He shook his head again and you sighed.

“You just did about, I don’t know, seven, eight shots on an empty stomach. You’re not a kid anymore so if Taylor Gregson’s senior party is anything to go by, I expect you to start puking in the next three minutes.”

“Go away,” he said, wiping off his face.

“Yeah, see no, not happening. I’m also staying here tonight whether you want me to or not. Now sit, throw up in the toilet please, and I will make you something bland to eat and get you some not snot covered clothes, okay?”

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked. He stared up at you and you instantly knelt down, giving him a hug as he hiccuped. 

“Cause you’re my best friend and I love you,” you said. “Jensen. What happened?”

“Don’t wanna…” he said, shaking his head.

“Did someone die?” you asked.

“No,” he said again. 

“What did you find out? Something with your brother? You said you were at his birthday party.”

“Later please,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” you said. You rubbed up and down his back and you felt him lurch a bit before you shut your eyes and felt wetness on your back. “Did you just throw up on me?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said.

“Really is like Taylor Gregson’s party all over again,” you said. “You stay here and I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I got it in your hair I think,” he said. He lurched again but you turned him towards the bowl and he was successful that time. “Ow.”

“Relax,” you said, running a clean hand through his hair for a beat. His body untensed a little but he was still upset and making a mess of himself. “Five minutes and then the shower is yours.”

You took about ten to deal with your hair and you ducked next door to his closet, finding some fresh clothes for the two of you. He managed to not get any sick on himself so after wiping his face off good and getting him to brush his teeth, he looked a little better. You found some pancake mix in the cupboard and started to work on that while he changed. He eventually came out, red eyed and sniffling a bit but he looked sober at least.

“Andrew’s gonna kill me for ruining his night,” he said.

“Andrew and I are over,” you said, waiting for the pan to heat up. Jensen stared as you shook up the jug. “He has always been an ass to you.”

“Y/N. I’m just...he’s your fiance. You’re supposed to prioritize him.”

“He’s supposed to respect people I care about. He is immature and arrogant and mean and he sucks so bad in bed. God, I’ve been dying to tell you how shitty ass of a fuck he is. The most damn selfish little prick I’ve ever met in my life and-”

“Y/N,” said Jensen. You took a deep breath and poured some batter on the pan. “You didn’t breakup cause of me, did you?”

“No. You were just the last straw. You didn’t call cause you wanted a ride or to talk about something that could be done later. You need me. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning, Christmas, my wedding day. You ever call me like that, you ever make me worry like this, I’ll be there in a fucking second,” you said. He lowered his head as you got a plate out for his dinner.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said.

“If you thought I was busy, why didn’t you call Jared? He lives three minutes away. Three,” you said. He shrugged and you sighed. “I never want to see you doing something like that ever again. I never want you to-”

“I’m not a child,” he shot back, suddenly shooting daggers at you, his face hard and green eyes a too dark shade.

“My father is an alcoholic. You want to call him up? We’ll call him up right fucking now and he’ll tell you how it nearly destroyed his life. He is twenty years sober and he can’t have a drink for the rest of his life because he used it when he was in pain. You will never, Ackles, and I mean never, drink to mask pain again in your life,” you said. The pancake was burning and you broke away your glare, dumping the burnt batter into the trash. When you walked back, Jensen was crying at the counter again and you shut your eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just...you know how my mom used to have me sleepover your house in the middle of a school week cause he was drunk and she didn’t want me to see it. You know how much it used to bother me. Little shrimpy ass Jensen, you would always tell me to sleep in your bed and you took the sleeping bag. I let you take care of me my whole life. You’re bigger than me, stronger than me. You will never worry about money again. You gave me rent money when I got laid off and refused to let me pay it back. You drove me home when I got drunk at a bar after a fight with Andrew. You stood up for me in seventh grade cause I liked science and Harrison Pitt was a dick to me back then. This is not me treating you like a child, Jensen. This is me helping my best friend because he’s in pain and I can’t stop it. All I can do is make him damn pancakes.”

“Can I have maple syrup?” he asked quietly after a few minutes. 

“Of course. I’ll get butter too,” you said. You cut up a few pieces and gave them along with the syrup to him. You made up more pancakes to reheat for breakfast, Jensen sniffling to himself as he ate. “Feel any better?”

“A little,” he said. “You were always too good for Andrew.”

“I always knew you didn’t like him,” you said. “But you tried. That’s what was important and a concept he apparently couldn’t understand. Good riddance. Oh and I kinda need a place to crash for a bit after my epic walkout.”

“I got plenty of room,” he said. He pushed his plate away when he finished and washed it up in the sink, grabbing the pan as you put away the leftovers.

“Even miserable you have far better manners,” you said with a small smile. He left the pan on the counter to dry and you wrapped your hands around his arm, leading him back to his bedroom and sitting him down. “It’s later. What happened?”

“My whole family’s been lying to me my whole life,” he said. He sat against the headboard and wiped off his nose. “My great aunt, like the super old one, she made a comment and then made a little face like I wasn’t supposed to know something. I mentioned it to my brother and he seemed coy but I knew then it was true. So I confronted my parents and...well it turns out that I’m adopted.”

“You’re what?” you said, scrunching up your face.

“Adopted. When I was an infant. They were never going to tell me,” he said.

“I don’t understand. I mean you kinda look like your dad and even your brother a bit and your sister has your nose.”

“Coincidence,” he said. “I’m a reject baby. I was given up because the couple that had me? They didn’t want me. I looked them up when I got home. Two hot shot lawyers at some big firm in New York. Three kids. Didn’t want this fuck up of one though. I was an accident. A mistake.”

“Jensen,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Jensen, you’re not...so many people get adopted. Your family loves you. You’re so much better off with who you wound up with. They adopted you because they loved you. Jensen they-”

“She used to be my mom’s friend. They adopted me because they felt sorry for me. They didn’t love me. They pitied me. They lied to me my whole life. I heard stories about when she was pregnant and the labor and they were all lies. My brother’s always known. My sister is the only one who didn’t. The whole family knew. They knew about the pathetic little baby that no one wanted the whole time,” he said.

“Hey,” you said, climbing into his lap and grabbing his arms. “You are not pathetic. I have met your parents and your family. Some nights when we were little I wanted them to be my parents. I wanted normal parents. You had the ideal family. You have the ideal family.”

“They admitted they were never going to tell me,” he said. “How fucked up is that?”

“They made a mistake in not telling you. You should have known all along,” you said, fixing the stray hairs falling over his forehead. “If I know anything though it is that they love you unconditionally. You gotta forgive them. They wanted you. You are their son and brother. They adopted you because they loved you. It sounds like your mom stopped being friends with this woman. I wonder why that was,” you said. He shut his eyes and rested his head on your chest. You shushed him as he got upset again, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re not hiding any secrets from me are you?” he asked, arms wrapped tightly around your back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since I was thirteen years old,” you said. He raised his head up and you smiled. “S’okay. I know I’m not your-”

He kissed you out of nowhere, hand cupping the back of your neck, one long, smooth motion as you felt wetness on your cheeks. He moved back slowly, dropping his hands away, swallowing thickly.

“Sorry,” he said. You smiled and moved closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said. “Always thought I wasn’t your type.”

“You were. I was too young to understand what it was that I felt. No one’s ever felt like you. And I can’t lose you too so I played it safe. Now...I’d rather get this out of the way so I can feel miserable for the rest of my life.”

“You think our friendship is over?” you asked.

“You were engaged an hour ago and I just kissed you. Of course it’s-”

“You’re ridiculous, Ackles, I swear,” you mumbled against his lips. “Like I said, I will always be there. Now I’d love nothing more than to fulfill every teenage fantasy and adult one if I’m being fair right now. But tonight’s not the night for that. Tonight, let out whatever you’re feeling and tomorrow, we’ll talk to your folks.”

You sat back and smiled, Jensen staring at you with soft wet eyes and you remembered the little boy waiting outside school, trying not to be upset. You lay down next to him and recalled the day you met.

“Hi,” you said, the boy turning away. “Why you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he said.

“You look like you’re crying,” you said, walking around his other side. You heard a car horn honk and looked ahead to see your dad behind the wheel of the car. You looked around and saw no other other cars there, the boy wiping his face off. “Where’s your mom or dad?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “They said they’d be right here after school.”

“Y/N!” called your dad.

“We’re waiting!” you said back, the boy looking at you.

“For what?” asked your dad.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Jensen Ackles,” he said quietly.

“Jensen Ackles’ parents!” you said. Your dad sighed but he just sat back in his seat and turned up the radio. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I know. You got the blue backpack. All the other girls got pink ones,” he said.

“I like blue. I like pink too but I like blue more,” you said. “I like the cars on your backpack.”

“Thanks. Do you like cars?”

“Yeah,” you said. You sat down and took off your bag, pulling out a few hot wheels from the bottom of it. “Mom said I could bring them as long as I didn’t lose ‘em. Wanna play while we wait?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a seat next to you.

By the time you and Dean were being called over, the sky was a little dimmer and you saw your dad talking to a couple outside the car.

“I think I gotta go home now,” you said.

“Me too. I see you tomorrow,” he said, holding out the car he’d been playing with.

“You keep it in case you got to wait again. Then you’re not bored. I’ll wait with you though if dad says it’s okay,” you said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. He gave you a hug and you smiled as you returned it. “Do you want to be best friends?”

“Yeah! That’s so cool!” you said. 

“Awesome!” he said. You both packed up and ran over to your parents, your dad chuckling as you waved bye to Jensen.

“Make a new friend on your first day?” he asked.

“That’s Jensen. He’s my best friend forever now,” you said. “That’s how it works. I know. Jensen’s got an older brother and he told him all about it.”

“I see. Well buckle up. I’m sure mom’s wondering where we are,” he said. You climbed in the back and saw his parents give a wave as they drove past. “That was real nice of you to talk to that boy when he was upset like that.”

“I didn’t like him crying, made me feel funny,” you said. “Like my chest had a tummy ache.”

“Oh, you’re going to prom with that boy aren’t you,” he mumbled.

“What’s prom?”

“A very, very long way away. Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“I remember our first day too,” said Jensen. “I’m always a blabbering mess around you, aren’t I.”

“I think I understand what that tummy ache in my chest was. It’s that same feeling I got when you called earlier. I think we really were too young to understand back then what it was that we were experiencing.”

“You mean how I’ve been in love with you since I was five years old,” he chuckled. “Y/N. I still feel really, and I mean really, really shitty. But thank you for coming over. I need you, more than even I know I think.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” you said. You kissed him and he smiled, closing his eyes. “You want to sleep? You had a long flight and drive, not to mention day.”

“Yeah, I want to crash. I’m exhausted,” he said. You moved to get up but he sat up with you, watching you carefully. He swallowed again and you threw back the covers, climbing underneath them. 

“Not going anywhere,” you said. He got underneath with you and heard him breathe a deep breath, no sniffles in sight for the first time all night. “Jensen.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “I promise.”

“I know. Not looking forward to tomorrow is all,” he said.

“Well I’m going with so...can’t be all bad,” you said.

“No. Like you said back then, I stick with you, I’ll be alright,” he said. “Can you get the room light?”

“Sure,” you said. You hopped out of bed and turned off the big light, walking over to his nightstand and finding the switch. You smiled when you saw the hot wheel car on there, Jensen smiling softly as he looked up at you. “Night Jensen.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[alrightberries]

strawberries and cigarettes (always taste like you)

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: angst ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: Levi celebrates Christmas Eve the only way he knew how: getting drunk and high on a rooftop while thinking about you.

❈ trigger warnings: drinking and smoking. mentions of violence, gore, blood and death. brief mention of sex. profanity.

a/n: canon compliant but also kinda not? idk if they have cigarettes in the aot/snk universe or if they celebrate christmas so just roll with it.

Smoke puffed out of Levi’s lips, slowly dissipating in the chilly December night. The breeze that passed by caused goosebumps to rise on his skin, a product of the winter’s unforgiving coldness, and the thought of getting off the rooftop where he sat in silence briefly crossed his mind. His office wasn’t that far and it wouldn’t take that long to quickly grab his coat, but the longer he stayed and stared at the dark sky, the more he found himself not caring about the cold breeze or the below zero temperatures. 

He took another puff from the cigarette in his hand, eyes drifting towards the barracks where the rest of the regiment most likely was at this hour. The torches and lamps scattered around the base glowed a warm orange-y yellow, a contrast to the whites and blues of the snow and darkness. It looked gorgeous, almost, and Levi silently chuckled to himself at the sickening thought of finding anything beautiful at this fucked up time of year.

Christmas Eve.

A time for friends. A time for family. A time for people to gather around the fireplace and drink warm beverages as they sang songs, told stories, and eagerly waited for the stroke of midnight to open and exchange their gifts.

What a load of bullshit.

Christmas Eve was Levi’s version of a pain in the ass. It was a holiday filled with a bunch of cadets greeting him with a warm and cheery ‘Merry Christmas, Captain’ every time he passed them in the halls, and he would only respond with either silence or a brief nod of acknowledgement. Not to mention, it was also the time where Hanji would try to get him to celebrate different festivities in an attempt to cheer him up. 

It was technically a week-long headache for Levi, with the eccentric soldier- for an entire seven days prior to Christmas- trying just about everything in the book in attempts to get him to sit around the fire with the other squad leaders or even do something as small as switch out tea for hot chocolate to match the holiday spirit. It seemed like Hanji’s excessive invitations would always get worse around Christmas Eve, but of course, it never worked.

Levi took a swig of the whiskey he’d brought with him onto the rooftop, extinguishing the cigarette he was holding and lighting a new one once it had reached its end, before taking another deep inhale of the stick of nicotine.

Indeed, Christmas Eve was nothing but a pain for Levi.

Perhaps Hanji thought of him as lonely. Maybe Erwin had even just half a mind to worry about his well-being. But truth be told, Levi did celebrate Christmas Eve in his own little way: at around 10 o’clock at night, without fail, Levi would make his way onto the highest rooftop of their current base carrying nothing but whiskey, nicotine, and strawberries. From there, he would drink and smoke until midnight came, at which point he would start to eat the strawberries he’d brought. Then he would drink and smoke some more until he felt like his liver couldn’t handle it anymore, before eventually making his way back to his quarters at 4 o’clock in the morning and attempt to get his drunk and high mind to rest.

It was his fucked up little Christmas Eve tradition. 

The first year Hanji had noticed that Levi wasn’t around the base for their Christmas Eve celebration, they went around asking people if anyone had seen him, to which everyone would reply with ‘No, I haven’t seen him, sorry.’��When the second year came around, Hanji once again noticed that Levi was gone and no one had seemed to know where he was. So when the third year came around, they waited for him to leave his office and stealthily followed him around the base to find out exactly where Levi runs off to during the holidays. Hanji got caught, of course, and by the third time they’d gotten caught (and almost strangled each time) they knew it was best to stick to pestering him rather than following him.

Levi grimaced at the memories of Hanji trying to follow him around, him sensing it immediately and going around the base in an attempt to shake them off his tail, failing, and eventually just resorting to telling them off (Oi, four-eyes, how much longer do you plan to stalk me like a creepy old pervert?)

He sighed.

He wasn’t always like this. He used to enjoy Christmas Eve and doing all the cliche holiday traditions that came with it; sitting around the fireplace with Isabel and Farlan and playing the guitar, pretending not to care about their tone-deaf voices as they sang their own version of holiday songs, never really knowing the lyrics but knowing the tune and making up words to accompany the melody as they go.

Where did he go wrong?

It was around his second bottle of whiskey and his second (or third? He couldn’t remember but didn’t really care at this point) packet of cigarettes when Levi’s fuzzy mind would finally unlock the memories he’d kept at the very back of his mind- a place where he couldn’t reach them and they couldn’t reach him. Memories he’d repressed years ago, never to be thought of, never to see the light of day. Except on Christmas Eve.

He closed eyes as he exhaled, lying down on the rooftop’s snow-covered shingles as he carefully set down the bottle of whiskey next to him, just within his reach. He went through cherry-picked memories of his life Underground once again, relishing in the warmth and happiness he once felt when he was with Isabel and Farlan. But at the very corner of each memory, always within his peripheral vision, was a fuzzy character- a person, no doubt- laughing. Smiling. Holding his hand. Playing with his hair. Kissing him good night. Bandaging his wounds. Showing him tricks with a knife. Making tea. Talking with Isabel and Farlan.

He took another swig of the bottle of whiskey, eager to make the fuzzy memory vivid in a way that only the drink that burned his throat could do. His heart skipped a beat as the blurry edges and lines he’d superimposed into his own mind cleared and revealed the one person that made this living hell a bit less terrible, and the only reason why he ever did his little Christmas Eve tradition.

For a moment, it felt like he was floating on air as he finally got a good look at the character that he’d tried so hard to erase from his mind but never could. His mind may have forgotten but his body still remembered, and he felt the tips of his fingers tingle not from the cold but from the memories of a touch, a touch so endearing, a touch so warm, a touch that felt like home. A touch that was unmistakably you.

Mind fuzzy from the alcohol and head just a little light from the nicotine, Levi can faintly remember the moments he’d shared with you during his time in the Underground.

He remembers being homeless after Kenny had left him, then meeting you as you both ran into each other- quite literally, at that- when you stole bread from a bakery and made a run for it as two angry adults chased after you, cutting him a deal that if he helped you get out of it alive then you would share your measly loaf of bread with him. He remembers teaming up with you from that day onward and watching each others’ backs, sleeping in alleyways and taking shifts for safety, rummaging through garbage cans for food before Levi decided that enough was enough and robbing a stall so you both could eat that day. 

Faintly, he also remembers the day he joined a gang that promised him food, shelter, and a steady paying job if he could prove how strong he was by beating up a rival gang member. He remembers getting jumped by three other people as he beat up the man he was told to pummel, fighting them off and winning without so much as a sweat. He remembers the gang he wanted to join eagerly inviting him after the fact, and he agreed on the condition that you came along too.

He remembers the first time he’d taken a shower after years of being filthy, and how clean and fresh he felt without the dirt and grime caking his clothes and his skin. He remembers hearing the door to his small room open- knowing that it was you- and turning around so he could marvel at how clean he felt. But his words died on his tongue as he took a look at you, hair clean, face visible, dirt free, and looking ever-gorgeous in the clothes he’d bought you the day before using his blood money. The clothes weren’t fancy in any way at all, just simple clothes that he bought on a whim when he realized that you’d been wearing the same unwashed garments for years, but he remembers it was enough for him to decide that, even though he didn’t understand what it meant when his heart sped up and the tips of his ears started to burn whenever he was around you, he liked looking at you when were clean. He liked being clean.

He remembers the first time you kissed him. He was sat on the bed of your shared room, gritting his teeth as you stitched up a cut on his forehead and berated him for being so careless, being too confident, on one of the jobs his boss had assigned him. He finished the job, of course, his ability to get the job done without fail being the main reason why he was assigned so many assignments in the first place, but it didn’t make you less angry when he walked into the room with bruised knuckles and a large gash on his forehead. He remembers staying silent, breathing through the pain of what was essentially surgery with no anesthesia as your berating slowly died down and he could finally see in your eyes the worry you tried to conceal with anger. He remembers taking your hand in his after you’d finished cleaning up the materials you used to administer first aid, gently pulling you down to sit next to him as your hands reached out and cradled his face, careful not to touch the freshly sewn skin as he slowly leaned in until his lips met yours.

He remembers the first time he had sex with you, how it was nothing short of awkward and clumsy as two teenagers tried to figure out what goes where and how to do this and that. You were both each others’ first, that much he knew, and though the first time wasn’t as hot and steamy as everyone had worked it out to be, he still enjoyed it because it was you. He remembers cradling you in his arms that night as you fell asleep, a small smile on your peaceful face, and he made his first silent promise that night: that he’d do anything within his power to keep you safe and happy.

He remembers Farlan and the support he gave as Levi worked his way up to a higher position in the gang’s ranks, inevitably becoming the leader through his skills and hard work (a result of the second silent promise he’d made to himself: that he would work hard and become successful enough that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger to live a decent life.) He remembers taking you out of your small shared bedroom and moving you to an actual house that you could call your own; it was barren and filthy and needed a lot of tender love and care, but it didn’t matter- as long as you were with him, he was home. 

He remembers getting his hands on some ODM gear through the black market, training Farlan to become his right-hand man as you stayed within the base and administered first-aid to any member of his gang that needed it. He refused to let you learn how to use the gear, fearing that if you were to be seen doing his dirty work with him then you would become a target of both rival gangs and the Military Police. You didn’t mind, perfectly comfortable with staying at home and handling the more business side of things that involved pay distributions and document blackmails.

He remembers meeting Isabel that fateful day she barged into your home, scaring away the thugs who chased after her and accepting her into the group, your odd little family of dysfunctional orphans now complete.

He remembers spending Christmas Eve with his little family, sitting around the fireplace as you laughed at one of Farlan and Isabel’s stories, hand tightly clutching his as he silently reveled in the peace and happiness he managed to find in the least happy and least peaceful city within the walls. He remembers you telling him to close his eyes as the clock struck midnight, eagerly placing a cardboard box on his hands and apologizing for not wrapping it because you couldn’t afford the wrapping paper anymore, money already spent on the gift itself. He remembers his heart swelling as he opened the box, a beautiful porcelain tea set staring back at him as Isabel and Farlan proudly proclaimed that they also got him a copper kettle and some quality tea leaves to match your gift. He remembers scolding the three of you for spending so much money on such lavish gifts, but you dismissed him and said that it was alright, the little extravagance and months of saving being well worth his present for Christmas and his birthday (which were, coincidentally, the same day).

He remembers the Christmas Eve after that. He remembers the three of you shyly apologizing for not getting him a gift, still recovering from your lavish spending the year before, and he said it didn’t matter because he bought whiskey and cigarettes to share. Faintly, he could still hear Farlan asking him what the hell cigarettes were, and he explained that since the whiskey itself was expensive, he couldn’t afford cigars and instead opted for the cheaper synthetic version of it. He remembers being sat on the roof as you laughed and drank and smoked until sunlight peeked through the gutters on the ceiling of the Underground, clumsily making your way back inside your home to sleep (really, it was mostly you, Isabel, and Farlan who were clumsy. Levi had a high alcohol tolerance and though he grumbled about having to always babysit the three of you when you drank, he always made sure that you were all tucked into bed and snoring away before he himself went to sleep.) He remembers it becoming a tradition for your little family, something that you did every Christmas Eve after that.

He remembers the mysterious nobleman who sat in his little carriage, offering a job to Isabel, Farlan, and himself in return for a generous fee and citizenship to Wall Sina. He remembers rushing home and relaying the news to you as you held his hand, happy that they would be able to go above ground, a privilege that few had. He remembers kissing your forehead and promising to use the money that came with the job to buy you citizenship as well, promising that he would take you above ground and show you the sky. He remembers you crying, tears of joy falling down your face as you kissed him, silently thanking whatever higher being there was that you met Levi.

He remembers his last day in the Underground, gearing up with Isabel and Farlan as they prepared to execute their plan of getting “arrested” by the Survey Corps and taken above ground to finish the job. He remembers your sad eyes and the way you tried to conceal them with a smile, yet he saw right through your act and promised he’d be back for you. He remembers sarcastically asking what souvenir you wanted for him to bring back after the job was done, and you kissed his nose before saying you wanted strawberries, a rare delicacy in the Underground but commonly found above. He remembers agreeing, giving you one last kiss farewell before they set out to do the job.

He remembers sitting on the barracks’ rooftop with Isabel and Farlan, admiring the heavens. He remembers being in awe of how beautiful the moon and stars were, the way they twinkled and shined in the darkness of the night. It was the first time any of them had ever seen the sky. He remembers smiling as he sat between his two closest friends, a feeling of wonder and serenity washing over him as he made another silent promise to himself that night: that he would show you the sky the way he sees it now, with your little family.

He remembers the horror he felt the day after when he rushed back to Isabel and Farlan in the battlefield, finding nothing but Isabel’s severed head and Farlan’s torso on the ground. He remembers the pain, the anguish, the despair that ran through him as he yelled and cried, killing the titan that murdered his friends and ripped away half of his family before collapsing on the ground, realizing that there was no point because he was too late. He remembers Erwin telling him that he knew what he was up to all along, but he was more than welcome to stay in the Survey Corps if he so desired. He remembers agreeing numbly, mind still reeling at his loss. He remembers realizing it had almost been an entire year since he last saw you, but he was too ashamed and in too much grief to come back empty-handed. He had failed the job. He had no money. He had no citizenship for you. And he didn’t have Isabel and Farlan anymore.

He remembers working hard for the next couple of months, realizing that the longer he stayed alive the more money they would pay him. He remembers the day he realized he finally had enough money to buy you citizenship, immediately requesting for time off on Christmas Eve, planning to finally come back to you and fulfill his silent promises. He remembers stopping by the local market, buying a fresh basket of strawberries as an apology for making you wait so long (and also because he still remembered your request), before heading to the Underground the day before Christmas to surprise you.

He remembers feeling nervous yet giddy as he walked to the location of your home, thoughts of finally seeing you for the first time in so long filling up his mind. Nervousness was replaced with worry the closer he got to your home, and he realized that something was horribly wrong. He rushed to the house, fresh bodies littering the front steps as he tried not to step on them. Blood dripped around him, and he knew that whatever happened, happened recently. The door was already open, and Levi wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he cautiously stepped inside but he already feared the worst. Just then, he heard a loud thump followed by a groan coming from your shared bedroom, and Levi rushed inside. He remembers the way his heart stopped at the sight he saw: you, bleeding out on the floor, multiple stab wounds on your abdomen and struggling to breathe. He remembers dropping the basket he held, strawberries scattering around the floor as he rushed to your side, fear turning into panic as he clutched you in his arms.

“Levi,” he remembered you whispering with a weak smile. Your hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face. “You came back.”

He remembers scoffing because of course he came back. He promised you he would.

He remembers trying to put pressure on your wounds but not knowing where to start because you had been stabbed so many times and there was only so much he could do since he only had two hands. He remembers you trying to stop him, telling him it was no use. He remembers yelling at you to shut up, okay? You’re not fucking dying on me. Not now. Not ever. 

He doesn’t remember crying, however. But he does remember you reaching out once more to wipe at his cheeks, and he was briefly aware that somehow his cheeks had gotten wet. He remembers you holding his hands that were still trying to put pressure on the wounds, begging him to stop, Levi, please. You and I both know it’s no use. 

He remembers the unmistakable sound of a grandfather clock’s bell, signaling the strike of midnight. He remembers holding your hand as you weakly looked up at his face, a small smile on your lips as you whispered “Merry Christmas and a happy birthday to you, Levi. I love you.” before your hands fell limp in his. 

He remembers collapsing, yelling out your name as he held your corpse in his arms. He remembers shifting, feeling an empty basket bumping against his leg, and he’s suddenly reminded of the strawberries he’d brought as he rushed to gather them all up with shaky hands and put them in the basket once more. “I brought you strawberries, just like you asked.” He remembered saying, pathetically placing it down next to your head. But it was too late. He was too late.

It was gang activity, most likely retaliation. He remembered the Military Police saying. You’re lucky, actually. They left just a couple minutes before you arrived.

He doesn’t remember what happened after that.

But he does remember that he broke all of his promises to you. He remembers that you never even knew that Isabel and Farlan were dead. He remembers that you never even got to see the sky or breathe in the fresh air. He remembers that you never even got to know what strawberries taste like. He remembers that he was too late. For you. For Farlan. For Isabel. 

He was always too late.

The feeling of something cold and wet on his cheeks snapped Levi from his reverie. He sat up, silently cursing the snow that fell on his face as his hands wiped at his cheeks, letting go of the bottle of whiskey in favor of blindly looking for the strawberries he’d brought up with him onto the roof. He felt numb. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the cold, the alcohol, the nicotine, or his own heartbreak at the memories he tried to suppress. He never allowed himself any time to mourn, instead choosing to keep all those memories under lock and key somewhere within the dark crevices of his mind, only to be opened on Christmas Eve, the day he lost it all.

The day he lost his entire family.

He shifts, suddenly aware of the small box in his pocket. As he took out and opened the small black velvety box, he noticed more snowflakes had melted on his cheeks, the gold ring staring back at his face for a few moments before he angrily closed it once more and shoved it back inside his pockets, its weight feeling as heavy as his heart.

He was too late.

Silently, Levi realizes that snow wasn’t falling. He realizes that the wet on his cheeks isn’t from the snow melting on his face, but rather, from his own tears as they slowly came down in gentle streams.

The bell tower rang throughout the base, signaling the stroke of midnight. Bitterly, he took a bite of the strawberries as he lied down once more, reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

Merry Christmas and a happy fucking birthday to me.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[comfortwriting]

Maniac - G.W

George Weasley x Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘Maniac’ by Michael Sembello

About: George admires his crush (the reader) flourish as she discovers who she is and what she wants as she recovers from the toxic, abusive relationship she’s broken free from, her life takes a very interesting turn.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, partying.

This time last year you thought you found the love of life, despite all the warnings you collected from other girls in the above years - you ignored them and followed your heart. At first, he was kind, romantic, very chivalrous, especially in front of said friends and family; but behind closed doors he became a monster. 

George Weasley, your close friend fell for you the very moment he laid eyes on you. He too warned you about the guy you were seeing, but you didn’t want to believe it “he isn’t like that” you defended him.

Within months your relationship turned sour, you weren’t the same girl anymore, your lover - this monster - had complete control over you. He picked what you could and couldn’t wear, eat and study, he chose who you could and couldn’t be friends with and if you were to go against him you would turn up to class the next morning covered in bruises. The abuse got so bad you had to wear layers under your robes, you were never around for meal times and for lack of a better word, 

George felt like he was losing you.

He tried confronting your partner but there was little to no proof that he was the one responsible - after all, the monster pulled the wool over your eyes with his lies, he could do the same with everyone else and use magic if he felt at risk of exposure. 

You were failing all of your classes, losing friends, your hair dropping out, your weight plummeting but worst of all, George didn’t look at you the same anymore; his eyes usually flickered on like Christmas lights - but when he looked at you during the worst time of your life, his eyes didn’t light up, they screamed at you, begging to break free.

Exactly one year later you gathered all the courage you had stored inside of you and it burst out like a balloon filled with too much air, you weren’t afraid of him anymore, you weren’t afraid of anyone, you wouldn’t be controlled anymore not by him or anyone, you would be living YOUR life the way YOU want; no matter what other people have to say or think.

Returning to Hogwarts without the presence of the monster, everyone's jaws dropped but not as big as the boy who always longed for you; George.

The lights that went out of those beautiful eyes of his lit up for the first time in so long but now they were as bright as the moon on a dark and cold winters night, illuminating the sky.

Cat-walking through the great hall to join the first great feast everyone turned their heads following you.

Your hair now long, thick and silky reached your lower back swaying with every move. You weren’t withering away anymore, your cheeks now filled with colour and there wasn’t a bruise in sight on your body. You smirked at the lads gaping at your skirt length but you took the compliment - you finally realised your worth and you wanted to flaunt it. You were the dove in a room full of crows.

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night Lookin' for the fight of her life In the real-time world no one sees her at all They all say she's crazy

“Where's y/n?” George asked a few familiar faces sat at the Gryffindor table.

“Don’t know” his friend Lee Jordan replied, smirking “she went out last night to Hogsmeade all dressed up, she’s probably still partying!”

“She’s mental that one” Ron chipped in, earning a glare from George.

Speaking of the devil you strolled up to the table sitting down next to George, he could smell the booze on your breath but didn’t say anything. 

“What's up guys?” you smiled brightly fighting sleep, drinking Harry’s pumpkin juice.

Fred gave George an amusing look “Where have you been all night?” he asked.

You had got yourself dolled up for a house party in Hogsmeade someone was throwing, you didn’t know who but you wanted to go wild and have fun after being unable to mutter a word to your friends or even step foot in that area for a year, you wanted to take the bull by its horns. 

George watched you, star struck by your presence. Your long hair tied up in a high but messy pony tail, your tight fitting velvet emerald dress (more than enough to impress the most uptight Slytherins) outlining the best your body before it’s length ended at your mid thigh. You put on crimson red lipstick and blushed, spotting George taking you in through his reflection the mirror. 

Arriving to the small house in Hogsmeade you shared drinks with the strangers, dancing and having a laugh playing the most ridiculous drinking games they learnt from Muggles at a pub in London. You crashed out on the sofa and awoke just before breakfast, you took off your high heels and ran as fast as you could to freshen yourself up before class. 

“I went out” you breathed out, wiping the pumpkin juice from your lips with your sleeve “thanks Harry!” you smiled at him, putting the glass down and running off to your first class. 

George sat there speechless, amazed at your transformation and happiness. 

Locking rhythms to the beat of her heart Changing movement into light She has danced into the danger zone When the dancer becomes the dance

You took your new found freedom with you everywhere, you felt on top of the world and capable of anything. You were over achieving in all the classes you previously failed, causing Snape for the first time in his teaching career to award Gryffindor House points. 

When you weren’t in class or studying in the library being followed by a swarm of fan boys and girls, you were always in Hogsmeade; attending house parties or going to the pub with a group of eager college boys. 

George felt jealous of the attention you were giving these boys but he didn’t utter a word, no matter who you were with or what you were doing, as long as you were happy and safe that’s all that mattered to him.

You were upbeat and incredibly impulsive, professors often joking that if they poked you hard enough you would burst out into confetti stars. 

Fred and George took advantage of your new found energy when it came to pulling pranks and inventing items for their business, you had managed to upstage them and somehow even outdo them on a handful of pranks, George felt amazed that after all this time someone was so close to stealing his and Fred’s thunder.  

However, with all of this madness and adrenalin chasing you, strapped under your belt you started being followed by consequences. You were spinning out of control but you were happy, you were starting to get incredibly intoxicated on your freedom. 

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

Minding your business on the Quidditch pitch watching George practice, sporting your blackeye from the night before you heard a familiar screech yell out from below. “There's that bitch who snogged your lad last night!”

You went to yet another house party, stupid on your part as it was a Sunday and you were itching towards your exams. You noticed that these so called ‘fan girls’ you gained had turned nasty, since your flourishing they weren’t able to get dates. 

You accidentally had everyone, both men and women wanting a piece of you; but a group of girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw surprisingly fused together, vowing to bring you down.

You drank way too much with a college guy who had ginger hair, you thought it was George and you made a move on him - you believed he was single because that's what he told you; he lied.

His girlfriend, a Ravenclaw paid a girl in Slytherin to follow you, to see how you were able to gain such a following, she became furious when she realised no magic spell or potion had been used - people liked you for you.

Catching you kissing him gave her just what she needed to cause your fall from grace, storming into the pub she pulled you off him and punched you, you were too drunk and embarrassed to stand your ground then but now you were waiting.

“Oh fuck off will you!” You yelled down at them, you stood up from the stands and walked down, pushing past them. 

The group of girls followed you, the Ravenclaw getting closer grabbed you by your hood, smacking you around the head repeatedly. “Don’t you ever go near him again!” 

George could see the commotion and flew beside you and dismounting his broom “what the fuck is going on? Bore off!” he yelled at the girls, pulling you away from them.

“He told me he was single!” you screamed at her “and I thought he was someone else!”

“You dirty liar!” she screamed back, turning to George staring him down “she’s turned into what wrecked her in the first place, stay away from her!” 

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before

“I’m telling the truth George, I promise.” You sighed laying back on his bed, waving your wand in the air. 

George stared at you, your face now bruised more than the previous night. “I believe you but...” he sighed trying to find the best way to word what he wanted to say “you need to be careful, I don’t want you to keep getting hurt”

You closed your eyes trying to hide your tear filled eyes, the dorm rooms door swung open and Fred burst in excitedly “Y/N I need your help, wait until you see this!” 

Your mood instantly lifting you bolted up and jumped out of bed, following Fred. George stayed still and rubbed his face with his hands, having no choice but to follow the two of you. 

On the ice-blue line of insanity is a place most never see It's a hard-won place of mystery touch it, but can't hold it You work all your life for that Moment in time, it could come or pass you by It's a push-shove world, but there's always a chance If the hunger stays the night

“What do you mean I’m not right for the job?” you questioned the interviewer, his eyes focused on the paper in front of him “I want to see what that says!” 

The academic part of your life came to a close, finishing with perfect grades you were job hunting - each and every time you were able to make an outstanding first impression and you were even hired on the spot. Within days and weeks before you started your new job you received letters of regret informing you that after second thoughts you weren't suitable for the job. 

“It’s confidential information, I cannot do that.” The man replied firmly.

You shook your head at him “Not if it involves me” quickly snatching the paper from his desk, before he could retrieve it you read the recorded information about you that had been documented, breaking your heart.

You burst through the shop door and stormed upstairs to find your boyfriend George, your face red and hot, tears spilling down your tender cheeks. 

“What's the matter sweetheart?” he asked upon your arrival, his face dropping at the sight of your distress. 

“Those bitches lied!” you cried out “They’ve lied to everyone, they’ve ruined every possible chance I have at succeeding in life!”

George dropped his pen, putting a hold on his tax filing he got up out of his chair and brought you into his arms, he looked confused at your statement. 

“I can’t get hired anywhere because those girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw lied, they managed to get Rita Skeeter to write about me, contacting everywhere in the area I applied to, telling the owners that it would be irresponsible and a irreversible mistake if they were to hire me!” you were hyperventilating beyond control, choking on your tears “they’ve painted a picture of me that doesn’t exist, George! That I’m a threat, a danger to myself and others, making it out like my past defines me for who I am now!”  

There's a cold kinetic heat, struggling, stretching for the beat Never stopping with her head against the wind

You stared at your paintings hanging on the wall at your local art show, ones of George on his broom, others of all the creatures Hagrid raised. After failing at being hireable, George encouraged you to find something you were passionate about, to run with it and earn money from it. So you took up painting and added a bit of magic to impress the muggles more than those with talent you believed you couldn’t compete against.

George smiled at you through the window and nodded as a rich muggle lady walked past, stopping in her tracks as she eyed up the painting of the Cornish pixies mid air showing off their mischievous grins. 

“How extraordinary” she beamed up at your art, the pixies beady eyes twinkling at her. “How much?” she asked “my son will love this!”

You scratched the back of your head, forgetting that muggles didn’t have the same currency and you weren’t exactly the best with pounds and pennies.

 “Uh-” you stuttered, until the lady cut you off, noticing your other paintings.

The one of George made her laugh and Buckbeak took her breath away, shaking her head in disbelief “I’ve never seen such magnificent works of art in my life... forget how much, I’ll buy them all!” 

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

Walking out of the art show you felt your heart skip beats, running towards George you jumped into his arms. “She bought the whole lot!” You squealed.

George spun you around in his arms, cheering for you with all his pride. “You’ve bloody done it, darling!”

The two of you celebrated with the rest of the Weasleys over family dinner at the burrow, Arthur fascinated by the rich muggles and what they spend their money on and Fred begging you to paint him for your next piece. 

After finishing the celebrations George took you out for a night stroll under the stars, the two of you swinging your laced hands with every step. He stopped under the moon, it’s bright light beaming down on the two of you as if you were in the spotlight on a large stage. 

Getting down on one knee George pulled out a small wooden box branded with Weasleys Wizard Wheezes on the front, you chuckled thinking he was going to pull out a magic ring to trap his and your fingers so you couldn’t part.

Upon opening the box George pulled out an incredibly sparkly and flawless amber ring which matched his beautiful hair, you realised that this wasn’t a new wacky invention or a perfectly plotted prank. 

“Y/N, from the moment I first saw you on the Hogwarts Express I fell for you and over the years my love for you has only bloomed all the more... will you marry me?”

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

You scowled down at the negative pregnancy test in your hands and threw it into the bin adding to the collection of negative tests you had accumulated over the years since your wedding night. 

You fell to the floor and shook your head feeling frustrated and cheated, your husband George walked into the bathroom and frowned at you with sympathy knowing what the outcome was. 

“I’m so sorry” you cried.

George sat down next to you and held you hand, kissing it softly. “We’re in this together Y/N, okay?” 

You nodded and wiped your tears, letting out a shaky breath “yeah, we are.”

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

You heard a massive thud above you, followed by a scream next door. Feeling annoyed you snapped your fingers, your paint brush and palette hovering in the air.

“Georgina, get down here right now!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, your husband George laughing behind you “don’t encourage her!” you scolded him. 

Your daughter with curly ginger hair and a cheeky grin just like her fathers thundered down the stairs, pulling out an earphone. 

“What?” she asked sheepishly, sending a look to her father causing him to laugh. 

“All because your brother has moved out it doesn’t mean his room is your magic practice room!” you told her off “this is the third time this week you’ve frightened next door, you’ll get expelled from Hogwarts before you’ve even started!”

Your youngest of four put her hands up in defence “okay, okay, I’m sorry” she smirked, giving her dad a thumbs up before running back upstairs. 

You shook your head but laughed, walking over to your husband who stood against the kitchen worktops with a brew in his hand. You hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe this is my life” you muttered, pulling away and going back to painting your brother in law, Fred. 

Maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before

[maisondenachtai]

Thanksgiving at Home (The Re-Up)

plot: a loving shot at my family through the eyes of Chris Evans and Reader.

a/n: ....I’m stupid. Thanks anon who told me that Boston was not in Maine. ...i feel like an idiot.

               “No. It’s your turn.”

               You couldn’t deny it. It was an absolute fact that according to the terms of your agreement that it was, in fact, your turn.

               In the beginning of your relationship, which had started three years ago, holidays had always been a source of frustration. He was from the north, Massachusetts, and you were from the south, Georgia. You wanted to see your family, and he desperately needed to hug his mom.

               So, you decided to split the holiday, you would go home to Georgia and he would go back to Massachusetts. After that first year, you would flip flop who you spent holidays with. That meant that the next year you spent Thanksgiving in Boston with him, and Christmas at home in Georgia with your mother and Sister.

               So yes, that meant it was your turn to spend Thanksgiving with your family. But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Seriously, we don’t have to do Thanksgiving in Georgia. I’ll take Christmas again. It’s nicer.” You were sitting on the bed, looking at his half-packed suitcase, Dodger laying next you, his eyes moving to and fro watching his Dad pack a bag of clothes.

“If I wasn’t sure that you loved me, I’d really think you didn’t want me in Georgia.” He looked back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. “You got an old boyfriend you don’t want me to meet there.”

“A? Many. And who said they were old boyfriends. Maybe I’m still seeing them.” You smirked back at him. You couldn’t help but fall into games with your man, even though you were far from light and joyous.

“Watch it.” He pointed at you with a mock serious look on his face. “I hate to have to fight them.”

“I doubt you could take them.” You looked up in the air. “One was a football player; he’s actually playing for the Falcons now.”

Chris looked back at you, a white button down in his hands. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Oh yeah. He actually sends me tickets from time to time. There’s actually a game on thanksgiving! Maybe we should go. I’ll send him an email.” You stood up, to grab your laptop.

“Y/n, so help me, I will throw that piece of tin out of the window.” He said, a smile threatening to burst onto his serious face. “Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not. We should go to a game. We’re going to be in Atlanta anyway. …you know unless we go to Boston.”

Suddenly his eyes lowered and he shook his head, folding the shirt in half and walking towards his open luggage. “Dodger.”

The dog barked softly.

“Tell your mom that she’s got to try a lot harder to get one over on me.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. You laid back and Dodger took this change to take a position on your stomach, making himself comfortable. “This is so stupid.”

“I mean, you know we bought the tickets, already right? So, the time for you to try all of this plan changing would have been a month ago.” He sat next to you running his hand over Dodger’s body. “And you were so fucking excited. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. …Nothing. I’m just nervous.”

“Why? I’ve met your family.”

You sat up, making sure to do so slowly so Dodger could adjust himself accordingly. “You’ve met my Sisters, their boyfriends, and her mom. Not my family.”

Chris looked at you, “I’m failing to see the problem. So we do some introductions and get to know each other? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal Christopher Robert Evans-“You had hopped up, Chris grabbing Dodger before you flung him towards in the wall in your movement.

“Ooh Dodger, she used the government name. She’s serious.”

You tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t stop the thing from breaking your serious expression. “Stop it. I’m serious.”

“I know.” He smiled at you, and then rolled his hand around as if to say continue. “Come on lay it on me.”

“I’m from Georgia.”

His eyes shifted from side to side, as if the answer to his confusion was in the room. “I’m from Massachusetts…so what?”

“No, you don’t get it. I’m from Georgia…not Atlanta. My family is from Georgia. There’s a difference.”

In silence of the moment, Dodger slipped out of Chris’ arms into the living room. Chris folded his arms, looking at you.

“…If I get what you’re being obtuse about. You’re trying to say that you don’t want me meeting your overall wearing, one tooth, inbred, backwoods cousins.” He had that smirk again. You wanted to both kiss him and wipe it off of his face.

“Hey! None of my cousins are any of that.”

“Okay then, so what’s the problem.”

               You sighed and sat down, and he pulled you closer to him. You placed your face in his neck, his gold chain pressing slightly against your nose.

“I’m not embarrassed by them…” You said a little muffled by his body. “I just want to say that.”

“Okay… I’m listening.”

You sighed again, pulling back from him. “…It’s just…like…okay. Your family, like the house was put together and everyone was sitting around the table. We passed plates and it was all very nice.”

“Okay, and at Christmas at your mom’s we sat around the table and we didn’t pass plates but no one needs to do that. It was nice too.”

“But it’s not going to be like that at Thanksgiving Chris. Most of my immediate family will be there. The table we at for Christmas will be covered in food. We’re going to walk around the table buffet style, and everyone’s going to sit around the house, wherever they can fit. There will be no real plates, no real spoons. There’s probably going to be a kids area that will be messy.”

“Kids are messy everywhere baby.”

“I’m not done. There will be foreign foods. Oxtails, and chitterlings. Dressing…not stuffing.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It is not!” You shook your head. “It’s totally different. There are going to be several things going on too. My uncle is going to sit in the middle of the room, with tequila, a lime, and he’s going to tell stories we’ve all heard 18 million times. He’s going to curse and we’re all going to be annoyed. My younger cousins are going to sneak out of the house, stand in a huddle behind the house and smoke weed, and talk about us old folks. My grandma is going to get drunk on Sparkling Cider, and probably try to flirt with you, and you better flirt back Chris.”

He chuckled then rubbing your back, “Of course I will. Now are you-“

“And I haven’t even told you about Spades.”

“Spades?” He found your eyes. “Like the card game.”

“Yeah. Spades goes down at Thanksgiving, and it is SERIOUS Chris. It’s like war, but less civilized.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up walking back into the closet, “You’re being dramatic now.”

“I’ve seen my cousin pull a gun out on somebody who reneged. I SEENT IT.”

“So okay, I won’t play spades.”

“What? And look like a bitch in front of all my cousins. You’ll never live it down. They’ll be at our wedding giving a toast like, ‘Hey Chris is a cool white dude, but he still a bitch cause he won’t play Spades with us’. I don’t want to be the cousin who married a white dude who won’t play spades. I can’t do it. I’ll be the black sheep.”

Chris gripped your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. “Breathe baby.”

And you did.

“Again. Good and deep.”

And you did again.

“You feel better?”

You did, so you nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m saying this because I love you.” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth. “You’re acting like a nut.”

“I know. I know.” You said when he let you go. “I just want them to like you.”

He kissed your forehead. “They will like me. I mean how could they not first of all?” He grinned at you making you roll your eyes. He smoothed his hand down the side of your face, “And even if they don’t like me right away, they’ll grow to like me. And if they don’t…” He kissed you softly, soundly. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. You love me. And that’s all that matters. Okay?”

You closed your eyes, nodding. “Okay.”

“Say it.” He commanded gently.

“I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters.” You opened your eyes and your irises met his, you felt calmer.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now pack, boarding is at 8.”

--

               Atlanta never failed to take your breath away. It was so familiar, yet every time you returned there was always something new being built or done. You pointed out so many spots that you wanted to see before you returned to Los Angeles, and Chris made sure to note them all down on his phone wanting you to enjoy your time home as much as you could.

               After your father died, your mother decided that the deep south had nothing to offer you and your sisters anymore and decided to uproot you from all that you knew. Suddenly you were nearly two hours from the bulk of your family, living in a suburb of Atlanta that you knew no one in. It wasn’t your home at first, but eventually you had come to love Atlanta as much as you loved your little small town in Southern Georgia.

               As you came closer to your neighborhood you began to point of places of significance.

“There used to be this spot right there. Oh my god, they used to have the best hot wings. Like everyone tends to rave over American Deli, but they had better wings than anything I’ve ever tasted.” You said as you passed a spot that was under construction.

As you passed through the opening of the subdivision of your neighborhood, you smiled and pointed at the sign. “The neighborhood kids all used to hang around that sign. I had my first real kiss right there.”

Chris raised one of his eyebrows, “Real kiss?”

You smirked, “Tongue.”

He chuckled. “How old were you?”

“13.”

“Weak. I was 12.”

“Lie.”

“It is not a lie.”

“Chris, you’re about to pass it.”

“Shit!” He pressed on breaks, making you skid slightly to a stop a few inches away from your house.

               There were cars parked along the side of the road, a few on the grass without care to your mom’s poor lawn. You figured you’d be a little late, traffic was heavy, the airport had been busy of course, but …this was a Black family thanksgiving. 1 meant 3, not 2:30.

“Fuck. We’re walking right into it.” You said, sighing.

“Will you calm down? It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re definitely fine.” He waggled his eyebrows a little making you smile and then really smile when his eyes traveled down your white knit sweater dress covered body to the camel colored knee-high boots that he nearly begged you to wear.

You reached over and adjusted the collar of his white cable knit crew neck under his camel colored jacket. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, that you thought gave him an air of formal to go with his more casual upper attire. “You’re pretty fine too.” You smiled and leaned over to kiss him-

Thump.

But you jumped instead when your sister appeared at your window, somehow sneaking up on you. You rolled your eyes, sighing and rolling down the window.

“Hello Cassie.”

“Hello Y/n.” She grinned. “Hey Chris, I’m so happy my sister is no longer hiding your beauty from the world.”

“Hey Cass. Glad to see you again.”

“Glad to see you too.” She smirked.

You thumped her forehead, “What did I say about flirting with my boyfriend?”

“Don’t do it when you’re around?” She joked.

“Wrong, you little bitch.”

She laughed.

You grinned too. “Where’s Falen?”

“Feeding Cam. He’s so chunky.”

“I can’t wait to hold him.” You smiled at Chris. He grinned back at you. You had been talking about kissing all over your nephew for a month now.

“Well if you stop hiding in this…very nice car. You can. Come on Chris, everyone is really excited to meet you.”

               And just like that you were following behind your boyfriend and your little sister into what could be a doomed thanksgiving from hell. You nervously followed them into the house, not joining in on the conversation as Chris and Cassie talked about politics. Turning without much fuss, as Chris took off your duster and hung it in the closet, doing the same with his jacket.

You only followed numbly as you walked through the opening to your home, heart beating faster as the sounds of your family got louder. Just as it was at it’s peak, you gripped Chris’s hand, stopping in your tracks therefore stopping him.

He looked back at you, Cassie kept walking still somehow talking about how Biden was not the President we wanted or needed. You looked up at him, not able to say anything only looking up at him with wide eyes.

His lips were on your forehead quickly, placing three kisses in succession, one there, then your nose, and finally your lips. Silently he reassured you that things would be fine, and together you stepped through the threshold into your family room.

               Gatherings could be a lot for you. In a lot of the memories of the gatherings attended by you in your youth, you could only remember being a fly on the wall. Choosing to instead be passive instead of active like your sisters and your cousins. You weren’t anti-social, but you felt more comfortable laughing at the jokes then trying to tell them.

As you grew it got a little better, but you never felt quite comfortable in big group of people. In fact, after an event such as this one, you often needed to sleep for a long time. When you told Chris this before your first Thanksgiving with his family, he admitted to being kind of the same. He might not need to sleep after a big event, but he wasn’t quite the social butterfly either. It made you happy that he understood when you had to excuse yourself from drinking eggnog with the family late into the night. It made you even happier when he told you the next morning that his family understood too.

               With your family it was much of the same, your family understood that you weren’t the loudest and most of the time they were too busy being loud themselves to need you to be just as loud as them. It was just enough for you to be there sharing in the love of the family.

But not this time.

This time all the attention was on you and it was time to speak up.

               “So, Chris…where did you two meet?” The slight drawl of your Aunt cut through the sounds of The Temptations singing Silent Night, a favorite of your mom’s anytime of year…obviously.

“Uh, she…I mean Y’N was a consultant on a movie I was doing. I saw her and she was too beautiful for me not to get to know. So I asked her out for coffee.” He smiled at you then. “She said no.”

“You said no?” One of your male cousins, Taylor, called out. “Shiiit, if I was a girl I would have jumped on his ass.” He sucked his teeth. “Hell, shit, I’d jump right now. He got hella money.”

The room erupted into laughter and all of sudden the ice was broken. Chris was no longer an interloper…well he was, but he was no longer covered in plastic. He could be touched, he could be handled, he could be interwoven into the group.

You sighed, a little of your worry dissipating.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

                 To his credit, if anything was making him feel uncomfortable, he was taking it in stride. Chris had enjoyed when all your little cousins came up to him and asked him questions about Captain America, and asked if he was always Captain America or just on TV. You could tell because when he smiled, his face creased. He even did a few poses for them, which they loved.

When one of your cousins, Devontae, came over to Chris with a bottle of something clear and a smile you knew that this one would be a little harder. But again, he took it in stride as Devontae pitched him an idea of a TV show with talking Weed Plants, kind of like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Chris simply smiled through it, shaking his head when you made eyes at him obviously getting the message that you could save him if he wanted you to. After Devontae walked away needing to captivate the attention of at least 5 other people in the room.

He was considerably more relaxed in a group of the male cousins you had grown up around. They had formed a sort of semi-circle, Chris in the middle with a long neck beer in his hand, nodding at what ever George had to say.

“Chris is doing good.” Falen said, leaning over slightly, adjusting Camden’s bib while he was in your arms.

“Yeah. He’s really fitting in.” You smiled and then cooed at Cam bouncing on his knee. “I want to take him home.”

“He’s yours. I’ll sign the papers today.” Falen joked. “So, it’s serious then.”

“What?”

“What?” Falen mimicked you, rolling your eyes reminding you of yourself. “You and Chris.”

“You know it’s serious Fay.” You mom chimed in. “She brought him home.”

“I brought him to Christmas last year.”

“Thanksgiving is different and you know it.” Your mom said pointing her wine glass in your direction.

“I told him that.” You mumbled, looking down at Camden who only looked back up you with sweet innocent brown eyes.

“Well I’m glad you are trying to lock him down. You two match, you know.” Falen grinned.

“And the matching outfits were just the right touch.” Cassie chimed in smirking at you.

You flipped her off, discreetly. Your grandma was still in front of you…although already sleeping.

“Shut up Cassie.” Falen chuckled. “Seriously. …I think he might propose soon.”

You chuckled shaking your head, “Nah. I don’t think so.”

Falen grinned, “If you say so little sis.” She patted her knee and then looked around. “Ma! When’s the food going to be ready. You said 1!”

“You know that means 3. Don’t get brand new in front of Chris.” You smirked.

               The spread of food was glorious. A beautiful turkey, a delicious ham from Honeybaked Ham cause no one had perfected the art of making a good ham, a huge pan of cornbread dressing collectively called dressing, two pans of Macaroni and Cheese cause one pan never survived your family’s greedy hands, turnips, collard greens and cabbages, cornbread muffins, hoe cakes, yams with marshmallow topping (your Auntie’s one and only dish that tasted okay), and a plate of various pieces of fried chicken. But none of this would be complete without your mother’s potato salad.

It was a feast to end all feasts. A dinner you dreamed about. You would have cried if it wouldn’t have made you look crazy. Chris held two thick paper plates, one for him and one for you, while you held Cam who you were never going to give back. You patted the baby’s back, he had just had a bottle full of milk thickened with a little baby rice, a special treat for Thanksgiving (it was your grandma’s idea).

“Come on little Cam, burp. Chris, more dressing. That’s not enough. It’s gotta be nearly half the plate. And you gotta put the cranberry sauce on top.” You said.  It was comical to watch Chris hold his plate, your plate, and also try to ladle dressing onto a plate.

“Here.” You chuckled holding out Cam. “You hold my new baby. And I’ll make our food.”

“No, wait. I need to ask your sister if I can hold him first.” He said looking around for Falen.

“It’s fine, you won’t drop him cause if you do I’ll kill you.” You smirked at him.

“I need to wash my hands.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now who’s acting like a nut.” You took one plate from him then the other sitting them down and then walked into his personal space. He opened up for you almost cradling you and Cam.

“Now I know you have held a baby before, so don’t freak out now.” You handed him off to Chris and he instantly held the Camden in his arms, supporting him as Cam settled in the crook of his neck. You looked at the sight, your man holding a little brown boy, and you could almost imagine that Camden was your baby.

Your stomach flip flopped, and you gnawed down on your lip at the sight.

Chris smirked, knowing exactly what was on your mind. “Make the food.”

“I am. I am.” You chuckled, not daring to look at any of your family members.

“Ohhhhh, we’re making plates now. Okay, Y’n!” Julie, your Aunt’s daughter called out, making you chuckle in embarrassment.

Making plates had a lot of connotations in black families. It all but signaled that Chris was your man and you were totally subservient to him.

“You want some yams baby?” You said putting on a sickly-sweet voice to amuse your family members.

The room filled with Awws and whipping noises at your question. You turned and found Chris’s face red, but he was still patting Cam’s back like you had been doing.

“He didn’t burp yet?” You asked.

“Not yet, I don’t think.”

“Mm. We probably need to get you a burping towel. It might be-“

The wet burping noise stopped your sentence stopped you in your tracks, making you look up at your man who was looking down at Cam, who was looking quite satisfied at the burp he had just let out and the off white spit up stain he left on Chris’ shirt.

“Oh no babe.” You laughed a little.

“He spit up a little.” He said, a little amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. Good job baby boy.” You rubbed Cam’s back.

“Oh nooo. I’m so sorry Chris.” Falen came over easing Cam out of Chris’s arms, which made him a little agitated. “I can pay for dry cleaning.” She frowned a little.

“No. No. No. It’s fine. It’s just a little spit up. No need for all of that.” He laughed.

“Well Y’N, at least go try to clean it up.” You mom said. “We have tide pens and stuff in the upstairs guest bathroom.”

Your mouth opened up, jaw hanging a little, “But my food! It’s gonna get cold.”

Your mother put her hands on her hips, “Well yeah it is, cause you’re sitting here back talking me instead of getting your behind up those stairs and cleaning his shirt. Now go.”

“Yes mam.” You put the plates down on a slightly clear space on the table and grabbed Chris’s hand. “Come on Chris.”

--

Chris sat on the edge of the tub and watched you as you washed Cam’s spit up out of his shirt.

“Dang it Cam. Now my food is getting cold.” You muttered.

“You’re calmer.” He commented.

You looked over at him. He was only wearing his pants, a tank top, his pendant necklace hanging off his neck. He looked…really good.

“Yeah. It’s been a good day.” You nodded, putting more hand soap on his sweater. “Are you having fun?” You looked over at him, hoping that he would say yes even if he didn’t mean it.

“A blast honestly. Your family is so warm, and inviting. So funny. And I love how they love you.” He hitched his pants up and stood, walking over you and standing behind you in the mirror. You looked at his reflection, his shirt momentarily forgotten.

“But you know what I love even more?”

You smiled, “Me.”

He grinned too, kissing the top of your head, “…Your mom’s potato salad.”

You turned around and smacked his chest with a wet hand making a loud noise.

“What it’s so good. Oh my god. Get that recipe.” He chuckled and pulled you close to him wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him, kissing his chin. “No, seriously. I love how bright you’re smiling. How happy you are to be home. How relaxed you are. That accent you have slipped back into.”

“I did not.”

“Oh yes you did.” He smirked. “But I love how you, you are right here in this house. …I would give up every thanksgiving to see you be this relaxed.”

“I love you Chris.” You said quietly.

“I love you. So much.”

               And then he kissed you.

And you wished you could say that kiss lasted forever, or went on and on but of course-

Knock, Knock.

“Yn, Mama said no fornication in her Christian household.” Cassie shouted.

               And you both laughed.

   Epilogue

               You placed Cam down on your Mother’s bed, patting his back and kissing his head.

“He’s an angel. Ugh, we’re going to be here tomorrow and you better be here.” You said to Falen pointing at straight index finger at her.

“I will be. I’m not letting yall eat up all the leftovers.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Chris. “You did really good with Camden today Chris.”

“He’s a sweet baby. I did nothing.” Chris shrugged.

“So…planning to have some of your own?”

“Oh kay, we’re leaving now. Tell mom I see her tomorrow and Cassie I will see her tomorrow and to eat a dick.” You gripped Chris’ hand pulling him to the coat closet, allowing him to help you into your coat, and helping him smooth out his jacket.

“Goodnight everyone!” He called out, earning many well wishes as he walked out.

“Oh shit.”

You walked out of the door, focusing on closing the door after yourself. “What’s wrong, is there a big dog out her or-“ You looked up and almost laughed.

Damien, your ex-boyfriend the Falcon football player was standing in front of you two. A bag in one hand and a smile on his face.

“Oh shit, Damien. I can’t believe you’re here!” You passed Chris, hugging Damien.

“Oh yeah. I always come out to your mom’s house after the games. Can’t pass up on the potato salad.” He smiled, sharing a laugh with you and then smiling at Chris. “So this is the dude. Nice to meet you man. I love Captain America.”

Chris shook off the shock, and stuck out his hand, shaking with Damien. “Thank you. And you’re a great football player.”

“Thank you man. Yall need to come out to a game. I’m always offering your girl here tickets but she says you’re a Patriot fan.”

“Oh yeah, gotta go with the home team.”

“Respect man.”

               Chris and Damien talked for another couple of minutes before Damien excused himself into the house. Chris looked at you, shock written on his face.

You smirked, “You thought I was bullshitting you didn’t you?”

Chris shook his head, taking your hand and walking towards the rental car. “When we get home, I’m throwing that piece of tin out of the window and you’re changing your email.”

You smirked.

“Jealous.”

[comphersjost]

All for You | 2 ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

hi, its 3 am, and i couldnt stop until i finished this. ik i promised yall another part on thursday so im sorry this is later then i was hoping. i hope you enjoy it :) i took a different approach to brady here than ive normally seen, let me know how you guys like it!!

It’s been 4 and a half months since that day in the basement. With Christmas just days away and Matty on a flight back home, you and Brady take a risk, leaving Matt to wonder where he went wrong.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: this is really angsty yall, like actually, smut, sir kink, brady is Mean, uh moral ambiguity sorta (thinking abt someone else during sex), d/s undertones sorta, unprotected sex (be safe), oral (m on f), some choking, alcohol (wine), sex under the influence, pls ignore any typos fkakldfa

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

Even with how utterly fucked the situation was that Matt had found himself in, there was one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. It was the way his logo and his last name and his number rested against your back that drove him insane.

It was burned into his retinas.

Even now, on a plane back home to St. Louis it was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes it was you you you.

It had been months since he had seen you. Nearly 5 months had passed since that night in the basement. And it killed him.

He was in a slump. Everyone knew it. He knew it, his teammates knew it, the damn front office knew it. And it was because of you.

His teammates had quickly put together your absence at any sort of gathering and Matty’s sulking. 4 and a half months later he resembles a shell of the man he used to be.

He had called, of course he had. Over and over, hoping, pleading, praying to any deity that existed out there to hear from you again.

Matthew’s prayer was answered one day, when he had come out of practice to find a text from you. His heart rate accelerated, time felt like molasses as his phone camera ID’d his face. As the facial recognition unlocks his phone, the message is revealed.

Please stop calling me. And tell the boys to stop too.

The text tears his heart to shreds. It was the last straw. Before he had been mopey, but now - now he was spiraling. His play was abysmal - a shit show on the ice really. He drank until he blacked out every time, not even looking at another girl.

He had contemplated going to your work, but decided a player in the middle of a slump having a restraining order filed against him would not go over well with the Flames management. Every time he went out for the most mundane task, groceries, dry cleaning, he couldn’t help the hope that he would run into you. Even if you didn’t give him the time of day it would be enough for him to just see you.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Not for lack of trying, though. Matthew had been to all the spots you used to frequent—the grocery store you love, the clubs you two used to go to, even the 7/11 you had both been to after the both of you got so drunk that you could barely walk. You weren’t on the flight you had booked back together. In fact, he had no idea about anything that’s been going on in your life, his mom just told him that you’re okay and that was all he got.

Now it was 3 days before Christmas and the idea of seeing you again both filled him with dread and also made him feel more alive than he had in months. He was equally utterly terrified and buzzing with excitement. His hands itched to hold you again, though he knew there was a bigger chance of you slapping him than letting him kiss you the way he wanted.

As Matt stares out the window at the clouds, he lets his mind wander. He wonders how you're doing; are you okay? After everything that happened did you pick up right where you left off? He wondered if you missed him, if he was on your mind as much as you were on his.

He still wondered if you loved him back.

-

“Mom, I really just, I really want to stay home and do nothing tonight okay? I'm tired.”

Your mom rolls her eyes at your attempt at getting out of going over to Tkachuk’s house tonight. You’d been trying since 9 am.

“Honey, I know you said you and Matthew don’t hang out anymore, but he won't be there!” she tried reassuring you, “Brady and Taryn will be there to hang out with you until Taryn goes to spend the night with the Johnson’s.” That made you groan even louder - you had to be alone with Brady. Great, now you had to steel yourself for a night of utter humiliation.

Brady isn't even downstairs yet when you enter the Tkachuk’s threshold, Chantal’s call for her kids brings Taryn down in an instant, ever excited to see you.

“Y/N!” she squeals, running down the stairs, “You're here, you're here!”

“Y/N?” you hear faintly, and then the slam of Brady’s door and rapid footsteps. He nearly slides down the stairs, freezing at the bottom when he spots you. Taryn lets you out of her embrace, leaving you to stare wide-eyed at Brady. Unsure how to navigate your way out of this situation, you keep staring at Brady as your parents and Taryn follow Chantal to the kitchen.

“Hi, B,” you say meekly, unsure of how he’ll receive you after so long.

“Hi, buttercup,” he responds, a bright smile pulling at his lips. It’s all he needs to take a few quick steps in your direction and draw you into his arms.

“I missed you so much, buttercup,” he whispers against your hairline, “More than you know.”

Despite his warm welcome, the night is tense. You still don't know what he thinks of that night, not wanting to ask him in front of your families - well, most of your families anyways. You didn't even let yourself think about what would happen when you saw Matthew at the next dinner party. You sat at the table and ate your food, barely speaking to Taryn and answering Keith and Chantal’s inquiries about your life in Calgary with a tight smile.

You’re so zoned out trying to make time go faster you barely register your parents telling you that they’re going out with Keith and Chantal.

“Mom, wait-”

“Y/N,” she warns, looking at you with that look, and you sigh in resignation. She smiles at you, a silent promise to make it up to you.

Taryn had left 30 minutes ago, announcing that she had somewhere to be before leaving as quickly as she could, uncomfortable with the palpable tension between you and Brady.

You watch your parents leave, wincing for a moment at what awaits you when you turn around. To your surprise, what greets you is a glass of wine hovering in front of your face.

You take the peace offering gingerly from Brady’s hand with a tiny smile. And it’s a really bad idea, the way you let him keep refilling your glass, and his own, let him draw you in during The Grinch on the couch, let him hold you tight under the blanket that was covering the both of you.

You can hear your common sense screaming in the back of your mind when you snuggle closer into Brady’s chest. It’s near 11 now, and your parents are still together, laughing and drinking in the living room of your house before Keith and Chantal are supposed to head to the airport. You're cuddled up to Brady, shifting every few minutes to try and get closer, even though nearly every inch of your body is practically glued to him.

He hums when you shift again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Gotta go home,” you say, your voice muffled against him. It’s not like you haven't spent the night with him before; you just haven't since that night.

“Probably,” he mumbles, arms tightening around you. “But I don't want you to.” And like, you've had way too much wine and you should probably go before Matty gets here cause you really can't handle that conversation like this so you push off of Brady, standing up but stumbling, wine sloshing over the lip of the glass and splattering on your pants.

“Fuck,” you hiss, the red wine surely staining the gray leggings you wore. Brady takes the glass from you, placing it on the table and stabilizing you with his other hand.

“Go change upstairs,” he says softly, looking up at you with those eyes you're such a sucker for. “Stay.”

And - how can you say no to that? You can't, because it's Brady and you're so damn easy for him it didn't matter what he’d asked you to do, you would do it without a second thought.

That's how you find yourself stumbling to Brady’s bedroom, barely finding your way to his bathroom to change out of your stained leggings and wipe yourself down. You rummage through Brady’s dresser, searching for - there it was. A pair of Brady’s sweatpants from high school that he stopped wearing approximately 2 months after he got them [mostly because he couldn't find them (mostly mostly because they were either in your room or on your body)].

You place the worn sweats on top of Brady’s dresser, fumbling to close the drawer and find your balance. Someone clears their throat and your head snaps towards the doorway. Brady is leaning against the doorframe and through the fuzziness of the wine, you register the thought that he looks so good like this - in his comfort zone.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the doorframe towards you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes too focused on Brady moving towards you.

“We should give it a shot,” Brady husks, hooded eyes trailing down your body and back up again. Suddenly the room feels too cold, the oversized sweater you had on stopped at the top of your thighs, barely covering the pale pink panties you were wearing. The sweater paws gave an air of innocence around you that Brady knew was fake.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper meekly, both concerned about what was going on in that head of his, and intrigued.

“You know how you feel about me,” Brady states - which isn't entirely true anymore, but you don’t interrupt. “I don’t know how I feel about you, and neither of us actually knows if this-” he motions between the two of you “-is it for us, so I say, we give it a shot and see how it feels. Let’s give it until we go back?”

When did he get so close to you? Brady’s taking more steps forward, and you’re taking as many steps back, until the back of your thighs hit the corner of the bed and you instinctively sit.

Which - in retrospect, was probably a mistake, because now Brady towers over you even more than before and now - you’re really intrigued. His fingers trail over your jaw, thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip.

You part your lips out of habit, eyes widen when you realize what you’ve done. Brady laughs darkly when he catches your slip up, stroking your face affectionately.

His thumb slips between your lips for a moment, and your eyes flutter shut as your cheeks hollow around him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and you do, opening your eyes to stare up at him again; Brady, your best friend. He smiles proudly, murmuring a soft, “Good girl.”

The words are uttered at the same time he withdraws from your warm mouth, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat. You can’t help the whine that escapes, mortified when Brady’s grin widens.

He leans down, mouth next to your ear to whisper, “Matty always did like it when they’re needy. Needy girls drive us crazy.”

Really, the thought of Matt shouldn’t be driving you crazy, but it is. And when you feel Brady’s nose nudge against yours, his mouth just millimeters from you - your biggest fantasy for nearly 20 years - you knew you were going to hell.

A needy moan escapes your throat before Brady’s hand tightens around your throat and you give in, looping your arms around his neck. You pull him down to meet your lips, nearly clawing at him in your desperation.

Faintly, you think that this is a bad idea, this would only hurt you more later on.

But the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about the consequences. You wanted - you needed Brady so fucking bad right now you were willing to deal with whatever the aftermath presented you with. Brady’s other hand finds the bottom of your sweater, slipping underneath the fabric to lay against your rib cage.

You needed more.

“Brady,” you whine as you break away from his lips, tugging at his hoodie. “Need you.” Brady chuckles darkly, tugging you by your throat to kiss him again.

“Ask nicely,” he husks against your mouth.

“Please,” you whimper again, pulling harder at the fabric to just get him closer. “Please, Brady, I need you so bad.”

“Try again.” Brady pushes you - nearly tosses you really - further up the bed with a snarl, ignoring the yelp you let out at the suddenness of his mood shift. You stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You're unsure of your next words.

“Please…Daddy?”

A cocky smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not quite.”

You think for a moment, watching him bring his hand behind his back and pull his shirt over his head. The dark look he gives you makes you shrink, as if to say ‘Still?’.

Suddenly your eyes light up, and Brady can see it. He's already on the bed, crawling up your body as you attempt to control your breath. The words are barely out before he's kissing you again.

“Please sir?”

Brady groans into your mouth when he hears you say the words, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hips against yours. You mewl into his mouth when his clothed cock catches against your clit, pushing your hips up against him for more. He growls as he pulls away again, swatting your thigh as a warning.

“Careful, princess,” Brady warns - voice low and dangerous - and his grip on your hip so tight you knew there would be bruises in the morning, “or I won't be.” His words are thick with intention, both a threat and a promise.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe shakily, letting yourself fall against the sheets to look up at him.

Brady’s eyes soften for a moment, reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Hi,” comes your response. He steals another kiss before pulling away again, and you can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

You want to say it, the voice inside you is screaming it. It’s screaming for you to say it, and Brady is looking at you almost like he wants you to too.

The feeling of his hands pushing your sweater up distracts you from your plight. Brady’s movement is slow, and he’s looking at you intensely, giving you time to stop him. You only nod, and the softness is gone as soon as it had come. You lift your arms to help him bring the material over your head. He tosses the sweater to the side, catching your wrists when you reach for him. He guides them back over your head, smirking as you suppress a shudder when he leans in a whispers against your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep your hands there princess.”

You nod quickly, grasping the sheets in anticipation. Another slap to your thigh has you rethinking.

“I’m sorry!” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

Brady hums in acknowledgment, kissing down your throat until he’s staring up at you from the valley between your breasts. You whine softly when he pulls a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the harden peak before soothing it with his tongue. His hand is pinching and pulling at your other nipple, making your noises significantly louder. He alternates, playing with your nipples until they're swollen and sensitive and sore.

He sits back on his heels to look at you, hands on your knees now, sliding up your thighs. His eyes roam your body unabashedly, while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties. There's a burning look in his eyes as he says, “You're gorgeous. You're so fucking beautiful.”

You don't know why hearing him say it makes you tear up. Brady had told you that you were pretty before, that you cleaned up nice, always telling you how hot you were when he'd see you dressed up before events. He was your own personal hype man but he'd never called you beautiful.

Not like this.

Not like Matty.

Not like Matty.

The thought makes your blood run cold.

“Please,” you mewl, starting to reach for Brady before remembering what he told you. Your hands fly back above your head, twisting in the sheets, whispering, “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot.”

Brady smiles softly, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties, tugging on it before letting it snap back against your skin. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss softly at your stomach. “Trying so hard to be good for me.” He shuffles himself backwards as he kisses his way down your body, sliding your panties down your legs at the same time until they've fallen to the floor.

“Wait,” you say softly, causing Brady to pause, his expression quizzical. “Please, I need you.”

Brady grins wickedly. “Just a taste princess.”

It turns out, ‘a taste’ actually means Brady edging you with his tongue until you were nearly crying. He's brought you to the brink three times now, each time getting you closer and closer before pulling away. At this point he's holding your hips down and your hands are as tangled in the sheets as you could get them, not wanting the repercussions of disobeying.

Brady’s tongue is sliding through your folds again when you finally break.

“Please!” you sob, tears finally sliding down your cheeks as your back arches from the pleasure. “Please, Brady, please, sir, please please, I- I need - please just - fuck - please.”

Brady hums against your cunt, the vibrations tearing a scream from your throat. Suddenly the warmth of Brady’s mouth is gone, leaving you chasing him with a buck of your hips. He pins you back down again easily, his lips glistening as he smirks. You hate the way the sleazy look on his face does it for you.

It reminds you of Matt.

You whine again, wiggling your hips as much as you could in Brady’s grip. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel his lips press against your hip, smiling against your skin.

“Anything my girl wants, she gets,” he murmurs against your skin.

My girl. The words echo over and over again in your head. My girl my girl my girl.

Two words you've been waiting years to hear come out of his mouth, and the only thing you could think of was how you liked it better when Matty said it.

Your eyes stay shut as Brady kisses up your body, fingertips dancing over your skin. His mouth finds yours, emptying your brain of all other thoughts but him.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” he asks you, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently, wiping your tears away. Your eyes flutter open, to look at him, nodding as you bite your lip. His thumb tugs your lip out from between your teeth as you feel the tip of his dick brush against your thigh. You didn't even realize that he had taken off the rest of his clothes, but you weren't complaining. Not with him so close like this.

“Please,” you whimper, and after stealing another kiss, Brady sinks into your heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, gripping the back of your thigh to spread your legs even further. “You're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good.” Once he’s bottomed out, Brady leans down to kiss you, swallowing your desperate noises.

He gives you little time to adjust, and really - you don't need it considering the way he tortured you with his mouth and fingers. You're whining into his mouth as his hips move against you, the drag off his cock inside you so fucking good after being denied like you were.

You're close already, and Brady knows, delivering sharp thrusts and hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

He finally breaks from your lips, breathing heavily as his hips slam into your cunt. “I'm so close,” you tell him, gripping the sheets above your head so hard you feel like you might rip them. “Please, please let me cum, sir, please.”

It seems like Brady finally thinks you've had enough torture, because he brings his hand from your thigh to your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. “You've been so good for me baby,” he grunts, his other hand holding him up so he can look down at you. “Come on baby, you can touch me now, come on princess, cum for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hands come flying from above your head to grasp at Brady, his shoulders, his back, tangling in his hair, anything to just touch him. You cry out as your orgasm hits, your back arching under Brady as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

You faintly register Brady’s filthy encouragement in your ears, telling you how good you are for doing what he says, for not touching him this whole time, for cumming for him like this. You writhe against him as you feel him spill into you, grunting as he fucks into you, chasing his orgams with shallow, sloppy thrusts. It feels like you've been riding your high forever; your vision is blurry when you finally come down.

Brady’s breath is hot on your neck, his hands stroking your skin gently as the two of you catch your breath. He shushes you gently as you moan when he pulls out of you. Brady practically collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He peppers kisses across your skin, nudging his nose against your cheek to grab your attention.

You can barely turn your head, suddenly so tired you feel like you'll pass out right that second. “Hi,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You hum and bury your face in his neck.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumble against his skin, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“Then sleep,” he says, before smirking devilishly, “don't worry there's lots more where that came from, but in the morning.” You snort at his words, squeezing the back of his neck before burying your fingers in his curls.

“Night, B,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, buttercup.”

-

Matthew was going to kill his brother. He was going to straight up murder him. On top of not being there to pick him up from the airport, he also didn't answer any texts or calls from Matt.

So yeah, when Matthew got home, he was going to kill Brady. When the Uber finally pulls up in front of him, Matthew is nearly halfway done with his plan to get away with it.

He fiddles with his phone as the driver pulls away from the curb, scanning the random notifications that he had popped up when he got off the plane. It's when he opens up Instagram that he really pays attention, the 3 stories in a row at the top of his feed catching his eye.

Taryn’s, yours, and Brady’s. Against his better judgement, he taps Taryn’s magenta-rimmed profile picture. The story takes a moment to load, but when it does, he sees a picture of you in front of the Tkachuk’s Christmas tree. You had your arms out in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the fingers barely poking out through the sleeves of your sweater. Taryn’s caption reads “didn’t need an angel for the tree cause we already got @y/n/y/l/n”. He can't help but smile fondly, so distracted by how cute you look that he just stares at you until the time is up - but not before pressing on the screen so he could screenshot the photo.

Your first story was a repost of Taryn’s, a simple white heart emoji in the bottom corner. The second was a shot of the TV in the Tkachuk’s living room displaying the Grinch’s title. The caption reads “heart grows two sizes bigger when i’m home :)”. The location is tagged as St. Louis, with Taryn and Brady tagged in the corner of the photo. The third post makes his blood run cold, it's a video of you and Brady, your back against his chest as you lay on the couch, the caption the cross-eyed emoji and Brady’s handle. Brady is facing away from the camera in the beginning of the video, your eyebrows raised as you wait for him to notice. When he does he laughs and reaches for your phone. The video cuts off there.

Matthew taps the left side of his screen to replay it, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He doesn't want to watch Brady’s story, but he taps the right side of his screen anyways. It's a photo of you on the couch, one knee pulled up to your chest with the other in Brady’s lap, and a glass of wine in your hand. Your hair is piled into a messy bun on top of your head as you wink at the camera and make a peace sign with your free hand, tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Matt screenshots the picture.

He’s angry; angry because his brother left him stranded at the airport. Angry because he said he hadn't spoken to you either, that you didn't answer any of his texts and calls since that night. He's angry because Brady managed to get you back, and Matt didn't.

Matty’s angry because he loves you, and he's pretty sure you still love Brady.

When the car finally pulls up to the house, he’s almost relieved. He notes that the lights are off downstairs as he lets himself in, pausing when he sees your shoes still by the door. The glow of the TV is visible in the living room, and as Matt pads towards it, the uneasy feeling grows.

There's two partially filled glasses of wine on the coffee table, as well as yours and Brady’s phones. He taps on Brady’s phone, revealing the unread texts and unanswered calls from Matt, as well as an unread text from Chantal, telling Brady that he would have to be the one to pick up Matty from the airport.

The pit in Matt’s stomach only deepens as he climbs the stairs, duffle bag in hand. He goes slowly, trying to prolong his inevitable heartbreak, but it doesn't change what he sees at the top.

Brady’s bedroom door is half open, the light from the hallway streaming in.

Matthew knows it's a bad idea when he takes one, two, three steps and he's in front of Brady’s door. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head inside the room. The sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You're tucked under Brady’s arm, your nose squished against his cheek and your hand curled around his neck.  He can see the bare skin of your back and stomach pressed against Brady’s bare torso. A blanket covers the both of you from the waist down. Brady’s hair is a mess, and so is yours, and suddenly Matt feels nauseous.

He feels like he would do anything - anything - to make the feeling in his chest go away. It feels like pressure, too much pressure, in his chest, and he nearly clutches his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears, he can't breathe, he feels dizzy.

Why does it hurt so much?

Before he can think it through he’s stumbling to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing the duffle back on the floor near his bed. His hands are reaching for the backpack on his shoulders and pulling out his laptop before it even hits the ground. He doesn't even sit, placing the laptop on his bed and bending down to type into the search bar.

He barely pays attention to the final amount when he hits “confirm” - he has more money than he knows what to do with anyways. The moment it’s done he sighs, watching the Gmail notification light up on his phone.

“Flight Confirmation, December 23rd, 2020 11:25 pm

St. Louis, Missouri to Calgary, Canada”

[retromotherfuckers]

Six Years (Part 3)

Pairing:

Past/Eventual Bellamy Blake x Fem!Kane!Reader, Platonic!Octavia Blake

Summary:

Octavia knew who she was now, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell you’d become.

Warning: 

so much mf angst, themes of addiction and depression, self-destructive behavior and a tiny bit of comfort in there

Word Count:

2k (i got a little ~carried away~ lol)

A/N:

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. i wasn’t happy with the og thing i had down so i literally just rewrote the whole thing in a few hours and it’s sm better than it would’ve been. me holding off posting this did wonders and i’m more confident in it too even tho i kinda think i suck at writing but also kinda don’t idk my self esteem varies wildly

Merry Christmas Eve Eve to those who celebrate ❤️

the gif (and all the other ones) are not mine and i take no credit for them

if you want to be tagged in any of my works, send me a message or an ask and i’ll add you :)

@shipshipshipau

The girl with aqua eyes - although now they were more of a spotted gray - had only seen one moment of weakness from you. It would be the last time Octavia had seen you, and you, her. 

“We’re surviving!” She had started shouting, as if she believed that set in a lower tone, her words would be construed as lies. “The human race is surviving! That’s what matters!”

“He wouldn’t be okay with this, and you know it!” Your voice broke involuntarily as it rose to match hers. You shook your head as you tried to desperately stop the ache in your chest as you brought her - probably dead - brother up. Tears clung to your eyelashes, waiting for you to blink so they had permission to fall. Your throat had been closed for a while now, and the rest was merely a weak cry. “If this is the price that we have to pay...maybe we shouldn’t be.”

You’d never know if it was the crack in your demeanor or your choice of words, but either way, her eyes softened when you spoke.

“Look at me.” You did as told and she gripped the back of your neck in one hand, pulling your forehead so close it almost came into contact with hers.

The air changed as Octavia came alive under the monster she wore for armor. Her mask coming off allowed you to let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You would begin to regret not smashing the helmet to bits while it was off and vulnerable.

“You have to stop listening to them,” She said. “It’ll tear you apart. It’s better they get to live to hate us than die slowly and love us-”

“They don’t deserve this either, O-”

“We bare it, so they don’t have to. You’re the one that told me that. You can’t back out on me, now. I can’t do this without you.”

For so long you were okay with her needing you to do the dirty work. Besides the first time - when you did it together - she’d give the sentence and you’d see it through. Every single time, it felt like it was killing you more than them, but that didn’t matter, did it? If you weren’t going to do it, who would?

It was the last thing Octavia had asked of you and you had no intention of letting her down.

Bellamy didn’t know what he would see when they finally dropped him down into the bunker, but it definitely wasn’t that. Surrounded by more death than he was prepared for, he couldn’t help himself to not move his gaze around the arena. The fences between him and the living reminded him of the cages the Mountain Men held him in. The walls were stained deep with crimson, leaving the dull concrete behind it unrecognizable. He looked to the blonde at his side, and they asked each other the same silent question:

What the hell happened down here?

His whiskey shaded orbs kept moving, albeit reluctantly. They stopped on Marcus Kane, who looked so much older than last time. His hair and beard were inches longer and grayer than the natural brown he used to have. He was so pale, it was unnerving - almost as if he was close to death. They connected eyes briefly and that’s when the younger saw the deadly weapon held to his neck by the hands of-

No.

Your back was facing him, but it didn’t matter how long it had been, he’d never miss you. The locks that adorned your head were longer too, almost to your waist. The natural shade was faded though, like you had aged twenty years instead of six. He watched your shoulders heave and your hands start to shake as Kane talked to you.

He couldn’t pull his eyes from the impure red that dyed your skin and clothes.

While you were distracted, he chose to act, protecting Marcus from his own flesh and blood. He didn’t miss the gears in your head turning as your gaze landed on him. He saw your eyes sink into a trance of recognition and a deep sort of longing overtook your senses. The melancholic need you had tried to numb for half a decade came back in full force and held no mercy.

You remembered how he always smelled of the forest after the sky wept. You remembered how sure but gentle his touch was on your skin. You remembered how his remarkably soft lips would feel when they pushed against yours as they begged for more at every turn. You remembered how it felt to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heart thump as he assured you everything would be alright, even if he didn’t think it would be.

Was that gone forever, now, too?

Bellamy noticed something else, though; something he didn’t recognize. Something he’d never seen before.

Something that scared him.

It had been hours since and neither of you had bothered to find the other. Getting everyone out was a great distraction for him. Talking to his little sister, whose eyes seemed to hold the same thing yours did, was another.  She had explained to him and Clarke that Wonkru had deemed her Bloodreina and you, Ripa. So, no, nothing as special as death from above or the red queen or the commander of death, but death, nonetheless.

People have done well not to forget that.

When Clarke told him you still hadn’t come out and no one had seen you, however, he didn’t have a choice anymore.

The halls were those of nightmares, spirits lurking around every corner and it was cold and empty. He knew the lights were kept low to save power but it felt almost purposeful, like they were meant to scare you. To tell you not to act out or some kind of monster would jump from the shadows and make you pay.

But he didn’t know if it was you or his sister.

A chill slithered up his spine.

If someone told him this wasn’t real, he’d do anything he could to believe them. He wished that he was seconds away from being shaken awake by Raven or Monty, and they would tell him it was just another nightmare. He wished he was still on the Ring, praying ignorantly to anyone that would listen that his family on earth were still okay. 

Breaking him from his thoughts, a yellow lamplight caught his attention. At the end of the windowless corridor, it shone out of a slightly ajar door. Using every ounce of strength he possessed to not walk away, he pushed it open. It cried at the motion, diminishing any and all remnants of silence that swallowed the floor.

His eyes found you catching yourself from falling caused by a failed attempt at standing. A half empty bottle of whatever works in one hand, the other one holding you up against the bed frame. The high-pitched creak pulled your attention to the front of the room with a furrowed brow and he allowed himself to take in your appearance.

A wrinkled, cotton shirt sat on your chest and it was a different one than before; faded white and thin, yet cleaner than the other one which was colored with blood. Your hair was damp - the result of taking a shower - but lazily tied back in a half-assed effort to get it out of your face.

You stared at each other for a minute. A million things were hitting your slow-moving thoughts at once, too much for you to even try to comprehend. He finally took one step towards you, parting his lips to say something but no sound came out. He was stumped, hundreds of words flooded his mind but not a single one sounded good enough.

Nothing he could say would make what happened in the arena okay.

It was unbearably painful. There he was, finally right in front of you, and you had no idea what to talk about. No idea what to start with, end with, bring up, discuss, laugh about, cry about, scream about. Nothing was good enough to say to the man that kept you alive for such a long time, such a long time ago. 

Too long ago.

You inevitably broke the silence, though your words came out cracked and in a slur. A defensive and humorless scoff left your lips, an effort to cover up the discomfort. Or it was because you were too drunk to shut yourself up. “You gonna say somethin’?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

You didn’t know why, but you hoped he’d sound different. It was childish and irrational, but you hoped that you could say you both changed too much and he would have nothing to hold against you.

Because no matter how far away it seemed, sometimes you could still remember what it felt like to be that innocent seventeen-year-old that hadn’t lived yet; what it felt like to be that girl who still couldn’t stand her father. To be that girl who sprained her ankle within ten minutes of being on earth for the first time. To be that girl who hadn’t made a friend aside from Clarke and Wells in her whole life. That girl who had just kissed a boy for the first time.

The girl who was loved and not lost yet.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Where the hell did she go?

That made the room spin, and you had to blink a few times to make it stop, taking a seat on the thin mattress. You took a drink, making the liquid slosh from the base to the neck of the bottle and back again. When it settled, you rested your head between your shoulders as you heard him say your name. It bounced off the walls in the room, hitting each one again, and again, and again like it was a bullet waiting to find its target. You had wanted the word to fall from his lips for so long that you’d forgotten what it sounded like. You had forgotten what he sounded like, and you fucking hated yourself for it.

Then you realized he said, “Ripa,” and those four deadly little letters crushed your throat and stole the air from your lungs.

That name hadn’t felt right from the start, but it was what you had been simultaneously promoted to and reduced by. The only person who refused to call you that over the years, was your father. For two thousand days, he made sure to steer clear of it.

That’s not who you are and I know it, even if you don’t.

A sudden and hauntingly raw sob escaped, and you knew his eyes were on you in an instant.

“Don’t call me that,” You begged, meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered. Breath picking up, you were practically terror-stricken at the idea that all you were to him now was a murderer. You vigorously tried to shake the thought away, squeezing your eyes shut as everything that kept you numb seemed to vanish into thin air. “Y-You can’t-Not you too. Please, not you.”

Bellamy’s hand brushed your cheek and tears rained freely. You immediately leaned into the familiar and delicate warmth and you really fucking hoped this wasn’t your mind playing a trick on you.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” When he spoke this time, his words sounded choked too. His other hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you into his chest and just...held you. “It’s okay.”

It was like you were standing at the edge of a building, teetering the edge before accidentally falling. Only, before you could plummet to your death, someone caught your hand, and it occurred to you that you really wanted them to pull you back up.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

Your voice was just so, so weak. Beaten down and broken.

“Never.” He said it with so much confidence and finality, you almost had to convince yourself it was real and not a dream. “I promise.”

[doing-all-write]

home for the holidays

Pairing: Ben x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Reader is fine with being alone on Christmas. In fact she prefers it. But when her best friend, Michael Hardy, invites her to Christmas with his family, how is she to refuse? Especially when Michael lets slip that his mysterious brother Ben will be around for the holidays... 

Word Count: 9K

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, implied sex and swearing. And so much goddamn softness, WHEW. 

A/N: HI!!!! I’M BACK!!! AND ALIVE!!! 2020 has kicked my ass in many ways but I cannot thank all of you enough for supporting me. To all my new followers, to all my old followers, to everyone who still liked and reblogged my stories, I saw all of you and it made me happier than you could have imagined in this dumpster fire year. I hope all of you made it through this year and I hope this sweet little story makes you feel better.

I would be remiss to not give a huge, massive thank you and I love you to the Lizard Ladies, @mrhoemazzello​ , @diasimar​, and @fairestkillerqueenofall​. You three are truly the wind beneath my wings, the farts in my butt, the light at the end of the tunnel. I can’t thank you enough for the love and support this year and I love you from the very bottom of my heart.

💖💖As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖💖

I'm......dreaming.....of a white......Christmas

Bing Crosby's velvet voice wafted through the air, competing with the scent of pine from the lit candle as they wafted through the apartment. Swaying along to the slow beat, she measured out the final cup of flour she needed for her last batch of gingerbread. 

The air was thick with flour and if she stuck her tongue out, she was sure it would taste of baked goods. Humming absentmindedly, she popped the last batch of cookies into the oven and reached up for the towel flung over her shoulder to wipe her hands off. Pulling her phone out of pocket, she set a timer and checked her messages.

There was one from her friend, Michael: 

Mum won't let up about you coming over for the holidays

Oh? 

yeah

Why?? 

cuz she thinks no one should be alone for the holidays 

Rolling her eyes, she huffed out a breath at Michael's message. She had moved to London when a job offer had come up she couldn't refuse. To help her get the lay of the land for her neighborhood she had taken up jogging. On one of her nightly jogs she had turned a corner and-

WHAM

Groceries went flying one way and she another. As she lay groaning on the ground amidst spilled apples, she contemplated which would be worst, dying from a concussion from running into someone or dying from embarrassment from running into someone.

"You alrigh'?" 

Groaning, she slipped her hand into the one extended to her, "Yeah. I think so. My ego's more bruised than my tailbone so we'll go ahead and chalk that one up to a win." 

The chuckle caused her lips to raise up in a smirk as a woman's voice cut through the conversation, "Oh dear! Michael, I told you to watch where you're going! And this poor young woman...are you quite all right, dear?" 

Stifling a laugh at the rolled eye coming from, she could only assume was Michael, her eyes snapped back to the woman in front of her. One blond curl hanging in front of her eyes as her hands fluttered around (Y/N)'s body, not wanting to cross the line into impropriety.

"Really, it's alright! I'm alright." 

"Are you sure? I can't apologize enough-"

"Seriously! It's fine. It was no big deal. I wasn't -"

"Well he clearly wasn't either-"

The two women's voices were overlapping each other and finally the man stepped forward and gently clasped his hand around the older woman's wrist, "C'mon mum. I think she's okay." 

Eyes scrutinizing her face, (Y/N) did her best to arrange her features into someone who didn't have a concussion. 

She wasn't sure how effective it was but it seemed to quell the older woman's nerves as she nodded and took stock of the mess surrounding them.

"Oh god. Looks a bit like we've upended a fruit stall haven't we?" 

Chuckling, (Y/N) knelt down to help clean up the mess. Gently handing things over to the woman as her son placed them gently back into the bag. After the last piece of fruit had been collected, she wiped her hands on her pants and stood up with a groan.

The woman's eyes snapped back to her immediately as her son groaned, "Ahh c'mon, why couldn't you have kept that in?"

"Sorry! Not my fault I've got the bones of a 90 year old already." she grimaced as she arched her back in an attempt to stretch it out.

"At least let us walk you home, dear. Please? It'll make me feel better that you'll be alright and safe." 

Glancing over the woman and her son, (Y/N) figured the worst harm they could have done her was already out of the way so she shrugged and told them what street she lived on. 

The woman's eyes lit up, "Oh! That's not far from us at all is it, Mickey?" 

Cheeks pinking at the nickname, "Mickey" nodded and mumbled something as he became studiously interested in the ground. 

Smirking at his reaction she nodded and turned in the direction of her home. As they strolled along, (Y/N) got to know her two new friends better. Angela did live just up the street and had two sons. Michael and Ben. She was married to Keith and Michael still lived with his parents but Ben was out of the house, working as an actor. It was obvious she was proud of Ben but immensely proud of Michael as well and wanted to make sure he didn't feel left out by his brothers light. 

She stopped at the end of her walkway to her flat and pulled her key out of her pocket, "Well, I can't say I always meet people like that but I'm oddly glad we met this way." Chuckling, Michael patted her shoulder and Angela pulled her into a hug. 

As she released her, her eyes flicked over the house, "Dear, it doesn't look like anyone's home. Will they be soon?" her lips tugged into a frown. 

Rocking on her heels (Y/N) sucked in a breath, "Well...I, um, I live on my own so-" 

Before she could even finish that sentence, Angela had barreled past her, grabbing her key and getting a pot of tea on the stove and throwing a dish towel over her shoulder as she got dinner prepared. Michael walked past (Y/N), laughing at her gaping mouth and nudged her with the bag he was holding, "Welcome to the family." 

Since that day, Angela had invited her over to dinner at least once a week. She and Michael had gotten close and other than one drunken kiss, they were best friends.

In all this time though, (Y/N) had never met Ben. But, the holidays were approaching and from all of the fuss Angela had been making the last few days, it seemed like he was finally coming home. 

Her phone vibrated in her hand again. Another message from Michael and at least three from Angela badgering her into staying at their place for the holidays. 

Slumping against the counter, she let her eyes gaze out of her kitchen window and grow unfocused. 

She was used to spending the holidays alone and had actually come to prefer it. No annoying family members, no "accidentally" getting too drunk and asking conservative family members why they "fucking hate women." No. Her holidays now consisted of pajamas all day, whatever takeout was open and a whole bag of Hersehy's kisses that she ate throughout the whole day as one cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie played in a continuous loop.

But....

She did miss being around people. Feeling cozy. Playing a game after a big Christmas dinner. 

She missed Christmas dinner.

Maybe it wouldn't be all bad...

Plus she could finally see what Ben's deal was. 

And hang out with Michael. 

And Angela and Keith.

Before she could think too much about it she found herself texting Angela that she would be spending the holidays with the Hardys. 

~

"You fucker-"

"Michael! I didn't raise you to use that language!"

"He started it!" 

Rolling over in the twin bed in the Hardy's guest room, she thrust her arm out, wincing at the cold air biting into her skin. Snatching her phone from the nightstand, she quickly drew it back into the cocoon of warmth she'd created in the night. 

Sighing, she snuggled further into the blankets as she unlocked her phone, checking her messages, the white noise of Michael arguing with whoever was over made her smirk. 

Did one of your friends stop by? 

She scrolled through a few social media channels before Michael responded,

nope

Ben just got here

scared the shit out of me by hiding behind the kitchen door

almost spilled my entire cuppa

Letting loose a full laugh at that, she locked her phone, stretched one more time and pulled herself from the bed. Curiosity over meeting the mysterious Ben almost winning out over her need for coffee. 

Popping her head through a sweatshirt, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and slid it into the pocket of her joggers. 

Trotting down the stairs, she followed the deep timbre of Michael's voice mingling with the higher cadence of Angela's and a third voice that...was even deeper than Michael's. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as she listened to the voices competing in the kitchen. The way they danced around each other, through each other and over each other in the way that only family members could talk to each other. 

Not wanting to interrupt them, she decided to peek through the door to get a feel for the room. Inching forward, being sure to miss the creaky floorboard that would give her away, she leaned forward. 

Eyes roving over the tableau in front of her, she felt her lips twitch as she saw Angela sitting in a chair, her hands clasped around her favorite mug, eyes shining with love at having her two boys back under the same roof. 

Michael was in the chair opposite, clutching his, she assumed, refilled mug.

She couldn't see Ben so she moved to the right and-

Her jaw dropped open.

Whipping around she pressed her back to the wall. Digging her phone out of her pocket she composed a new message to Michael. 

Why didn't you tell me your brother is hot?? 

how am i supposed to bloody know if he's hot or not

he's my brother

Yeah but

You could have at least given me a heads up!! 

Her spine stiffened as she heard footsteps approaching the door. Suddenly, Michael's silhouette filling up the door frame as he stepped forward to head up the stairs.

Before he got to the first step, she hissed, "MICHAEL"

Completely forgetting the fact that Michael had already had the wit's scared out of him by his own brother not a few moments before, she felt a little bad about scaring him again in the same way.

"JESUS. What is with this house I swear-"

Waving her hands in front of her, she stepped forward as she shushed Michael, "Keep it down! I don't want your brother to know I was creeping right outside the door!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't be creeping right out side of doors!"

"Fair point. How's my morning breath?"

Leaning forward, she let out a loud exhale only to clasp her hands over her mouth as Michael retched and stepped back, 

"Well. Shit. That answered my question." 

"Just...jesus...come into the kitchen and have a cuppa and then Ben and I were going to run some errands for Mum. You can come with us." 

Pulling her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she fidgeted as she weighed her options. As she went back and forth about the cost/benefit analysis of having Ben see her first thing in the morning in all her unwashed hair and morning breath glory. 

Then her rational side kicked in and realized how dumb she was being. Worrying about what a man would think of her, who gives a shit? The voice in her brain rationalized, if he doesn't like you looking like a half made muppet then he doesn't deserve you at your completed muppet. Shaking her head at the metaphor she'd created she looked up at Michael, "Yeah. Yes. Let's do that. Sorry. I freaked out there for a second."

"Yeah. You really did. It was almost as bad as that time the guy who looked like Tom Hiddleston winked at you from across the bar." 

"Well, who was the one who got him to pay for the drink she choked on and ended up spilling all over herself, HUH?"

Michael threw up his hands in defeat, turning on his heel to march back into the kitchen. Muttering under his breath, ruing the day Angela had run into her. 

Snickering, (Y/N) hitched her joggers up and padded behind Michael into the warmth of the kitchen. The only thing that felt warmer was the look emanating from Angela's eyes. 

"Morning, love. Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, Angela. Like a log. I swear the beds here are more comfortable than my own." She answered, leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek. 

"Yeah, snore like one too." Michael snickered as he slid back into his chair.

"I...snore like a log?" 

"Yeah. That's definitely a saying."  

"She can't snore worse than you, mate." Ben chuckled as he pushed himself from the counter, extending his hand, "I'm Ben. Michael's brother."

"It's nice to meet you! I'm (Y/N)."

"I know. I heard all about how you met this family as soon as it happened. Michael gave me the play by play. But it seemed he changed his tune about how you're a, what was it?, a 'clumsy sod'?"

Gasping as she turned to Michael, he held his hands up, "It was forever ago! How was I to know that we were meant to be best friends?" His voice rising as he sank deeper and deeper into his chair.

Angela swatted Michael's shoulder as she went behind him to pull (Y/N)'s favorite creamer from the fridge as Ben laughed. 

"Fuck you! I might just keep your Christmas present for myself then!" 

"NO. You wouldn't!"

Pointing a threatening finger at him, she cocked an eyebrow as Angela rolled her eyes, setting the creamer down by (Y/N), "I can see that the lovely family moment we were having has been ruined. I'm getting ready. You three behave, and clean up the kitchen!" she yelled over her shoulder as she waltzed out of the room. 

(Y/N)'s eyes followed her out of the room, knowing she wasn't that upset. She was secretly thrilled her boys were back home and under the same roof as her. What mother wouldn't be?

"Oi! (Y/N)! Focus! How soon can you be ready?"

Michael's voice snapped her out of her revere. Turning back around, Ben's eyes were the first thing she locked on. Fighting back the blush climbing up her neck she cleared her throat, "Can I at least have a cup of coffee first? Please? And then i'll be ready in like, an hour?" 

"Ugh. Fine. I'm gonna go watch the match," a glint lit up in Michael's eye as he bolted out of the kitchen, finger resting on his nose, "Nose goes on not cleaning up!"

Rolling her eyes, she turned to grab the creamer and a mug from the cabinet.

"Did he always do that growing up?" 

Nodding, Ben rolled his eyes back at her, "All the time. He's the youngest, he got away with way more shit than I ever did." 

"That tracks," she replied as she doctored her coffee up. 

"Huh"

"What?" She didn't look up as she poured the brown liquid into her mug, relishing in the scent that rushed up into her nostrils, waking her up almost instantly.  

"I just-I've never seen someone pour in creamer first and then coffee."

"It eliminates the need for a spoon, my ex turned me onto this method and, I don't know, it stuck." Shrugging she moved to return the creamer to the fridge, sliding past Ben in the process, desperately hoping he'd smell bad or at least have morning breath but no. He smelled like old books, leather jackets and the first day of fall. 

Fuck. 

As she sidled past Ben, he thanked his mother for having such a small walk way between the table and the counter where he stood. She smelled like coconuts and coffee. He tried his best to not inhale too deeply, didn't want his brother's friend thinking he was a creep.

His brother's gorgeous friend.

Michael had failed to mention that (Y/N) was a knockout. He figured either they had hooked up once and it hadn't worked out or Mikey was too chicken shit to make a move. 

He would have placed his entire life savings on the latter. 

"Sorry, have to sneak past ya again." She smiled at him as she went to grab her coffee mug and Ben extended an arm in a mock bow, "My lady." 

Letting out a bark of laughter Ben couldn't help his own lips to curl up into a smile. 

"How come your brother didn't get any of that charm?" she asked, bringing the coffee up to her lips and blowing on it.

Ben wrenched his eyes from the perfect circle her lips made and forced himself to focus on their conversation, "Just goes to show I'm the superior sibling." He crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the kitchen. 

(Y/N)'s eyes tracked his, taking in the damage, "I'll help you clean up. If we both tackle it, it won't be too bad." 

"No, c'mon. Finish your coffee. Besides, if my mum catches you cleaning, she'll have my head. She still thinks of you as a guest." 

Snorting, she shook her head, "I know. It kills me but, hey, if it means I get a break from cleaning for a while, I'm all for it."

Ben looked up at her as he moved to collect all the dirty dishes and she tired not to gasp at how long his eyelashes were, "You live alone? Or does your boyfriend not pick up after himself like a prat?"

"Ha! No, I don't have a boyfriend, I live on my own so I have no one to blame but myself when the plates are stacked to the ceiling."

Laughing, they traded horror stories of living alone. The weirdest things they had done, the grossest things, what they liked most about it. (Y/N) was having such a good time, she didn't even think before she heard herself say, "You should come over and see my place sometime. The scene of the crime for the Great Pomegranate Death of aught four."

Ben's laugh died on his lips as he looked right into her eyes, "I would love that." 

Nodding, she looked into her empty coffee mug only to be distracted by Ben's hand coming into her periphery, "Can I take that for you? It's the last thing actually and then we're free and clear." 

"Oh, yeah! Of course. Thank you so much for doing that, I appreciate that."

"No problem, got to earn my keep around her somehow."

Giggling she stood up, following Ben as they exited the kitchen and pausing as they both reached the stairs, "Well, I'm gonna shower and get ready then we can go Christmas shopping?"

"Sounds good. I'll let Michael know."

"Cool, um, thanks for the morning company. Michael definitely downplayed how you're the cooler sibling."

"It's because he's a shit," Ben deadpanned, feeling his heart swell as she threw her head back in a laugh. 

Shaking her head she started moving up the stairs, "You got that right." 

Ben watched her go, trying to tell himself he shouldn't be thinking about his brother's best friend in the shower and how badly he wanted to join her.

~

"Why is that thing staring at me?" (Y/N)'s eyes were wide as the off-brand elf on the shelf stared back. Well...one eye was staring at her. As Ben got closer he realized the other eye was painted basically on the side of the elf's head and couldn't help jumping back a little.

"See? It's horrifying."

"Only parents who really hate their kids would buy that."

"So you and Michael had that in your rooms then?"

Ben glared at her in faux annoyance as she smirked at her own joke. 

"Aww are you guys buying that? I was going to get it for mum." Michael whined, nicking the deranged doll from its spot on the shelf and looking for a price.

"Ha. Good one man." 

"Yeah, that's a pretty good joke." (Y/N) agreed as she wandered away, distracted by the candles a few aisles down. 

"Why would you say that? I'm being serious." Michael's lip pouted and Ben swiped the elf from his hands.

"Christ. I forgot how bad you are at giving presents."

"Hey! I got you a really nice gift last Christmas!"

Ben stared blankly back at his brother, "You got me a black market Arsenal hoodie that said 'Assenal' on it and still had the price tag on it." 

"And it was the best gift you've ever received, I'm sure." 

Throwing his arms up in annoyance, Ben's gaze drifted over the shelves before stopping on (Y/N) as she bent over to grab a candle from the bottom shelf. 

The snap of Michael's fingers in front of his face pulled him out of the daze he had slipped into it.

"Who’re you drooling over, mate? You know you need to let me have first crack at her-" Michael's sentence died on his lips as he saw the woman Ben had been oogling. 

"Oh no-"

"Look, I-"

"Are you serious?"

"I know she's your best friend but-"

"Right and you better bloody stay away from her!"

"You could have warned me she was beautiful!"

Michael dropped his head into his hands as Ben shifted from foot to foot, "Seriously Mikey, this won't go anywhere if you don't want it too. I'll respect your boundaries but-"

"No, I should have seen this coming," Michael sighed as he lifted his head up, gazing over at (Y/N) as she strolled further away from them, holding at least four candles, "I think, honestly, that's why I didn't tell you." 

Ben stiffened at the hoarseness in his brother's voice.

"(Y/N)'s one of my best friends, and she's practically Mum's daughter and I always figured you'd fancy her whenever you met her so..." he threw his hands up to signify the futility of that exercise, "just...really think about this before you fuck up a really good thing." Michael muttered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"Hey. Mike. Seriously, I'm sorry. I need you to know that if I do decide to go after (Y/N) it won't be for just a casual hook up, okay? It'll be because I care about her like you and Mum do. Promise." 

Michael nodded as he sniffled, "Cool. Thanks, man. Anyway."

"Yeah, uh, who else do you need presents for?" Ben cleared his throat as he tried to dislodge the emotion that had gotten stuck there. 

"Really, just (Y/N)." Michael nodded to the general direction of where she'd gone.

"Well, don't get her any candles." 

Michael shot him a weird look and Ben shook his head, "Don't worry about it." 

~

"Guys, c'mon, my feet are killing me and I'm starting to get hangry. I need food. Or caffeine. Or sugar. Or, ideally, all three." 

Michael threw an arm around her shoulder and Ben tried to ignore the stab of jealousy he felt at the casual closeness they had. 

"There's a Starbucks straight ahead, why don't you get something there and Ben and I will check out this last store, okay?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek as she peeled off toward Starbucks.

The knot in Ben's stomach got bigger. 

"What store are we going to? I swear we've been to 50 stores and you still haven't found anything that (Y/N) would like."

"It's one of her favorite stores. She loves it." 

"You've said that at the past five stores, man.” 

"But this time I mean it." Michael said with renewed verve as he struck up a quicker pace toward the shop. 

The sigh that left Ben's lips could have blown out all the candles (Y/N) had bought at the first shop.

Stepping inside the store though, Ben could see why this would be her favorite.

Books with ornate dust jackets covered every reclaimed wood table. Plants and fresh flowers bloomed from every corner that wasn't filled with crystals, tarot decks or notebooks. There were vintage clothes dripping from racks around the perimeter of the boutique. Jewelry with signage describing which local artist had crafted it. A corner with vinyl records stacked in a case that went to the ceiling with a ladder to browse at the very top. 

Ben hadn't known (Y/N) for very long but when he stepped into this store, he was surprised he didn't see her pouring over the vinyl and calling excitedly to them about a particularly exciting find. 

Looking around, he spotted Michael pawing through some of the clothes and figured he better intervene before he bought something everyone would regret. 

"Do you think she'd like this?"

"Yeah if she wanted to look like Nana's drapes."

Michael made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat as he shoved the dress back on the rack, "Dammit. God. Why am I so bad at this." 

Ben shrugged and moved deeper into the store, veering towards the bookshelves. (Y/N) had mentioned in their conversation that her apartment was covered in books, who doesn’t love a new book? he thought. 

Crouching down, he ran his finger over the spines of some of the books. Taking in their titles, swaying to the jazz playing softly over the speakers his finger stopped on a book of poetry. 

Golden read the gold inlay on the spine, a tiny sun at the bottom. Ben pulled it out, flipping the book over to see who the author was and realizing it was a compilation of local authors poetry.

"That's a wonderful book."

Ben jumped at the shop assistant's voice.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I just, I saw you and your brother browsing and I figured I'd see if you needed help with anything." 

"He looks that lost, huh?"

"Well," her eyes traveled to the ceiling to find the right words, "he was looking at a diary where you can track your period so..."

"Jesus" Ben hissed as the shop girl laughed. 

"It's okay, I told him to try a necklace or a pair of earrings instead."

"God you're a saint, thank you." 

"No problem. Didn't want his girlfriend to hate him forever!" the laugh Ben let out felt hollow. His heart constricted at the idea of (Y/N) being Michael's girlfriend and not his. 

"So, uh, this then," Ben held up the book of poetry, "you said it was good?" 

"Oh absolutely. It's one of our best sellers. One of the writers, she's one of our most popular jewelry creators too. She made a necklace to go with the book actually..."  her voice trailed off as she ventured back to the front of the store. 

Ben followed closely behind, stopping as she bent over a display rack of jewelry, finger dancing over the delicate chains till she found the one she wanted. 

Turning, holding out her finger, a whisper thin gold chain fell down to where a delicate ring with swirls resembling the sun dangled.

"Do you think she'd like it?" 

Ben felt himself nodding before he even realized it. All he could see then was the chain sitting around (Y/N)'s neck and the charm hitting her chest as she looked up at him, eyes sparkling. 

"Can you gift wrap it?"

Smiling, the shopgirl nodded and went to the register. As Ben watched her box and wrap the necklace, he felt Michael's hand land on his shoulder. 

"I still have no idea what to get her. This is impossible, mate." Michael sighed as his eyes roved over the counter. 

"Wait a tic, what's that?" pointing an accusatory finger at the necklace and book, Ben felt himself tense.

"Well, it's a book of poetry and a necklace to go with it-"

"You wanker! That's perfect! How much is it?" Michael's wallet was out and buying the set before Ben could even stop it.

"Hey, whoa. C'mon man, that was going to be my present for (Y/N)." 

Ben could see the shopkeep girls eyes widen and figured she thought she was in the middle of a love triangle between two brothers. 

Michael scoffed, "You just met her, how do you know she'll love it?"

Ben struggled to come up with a retort as Michael nodded decisively, "That's what I thought." 

Feeling helpless, Ben wandered out of the shop to get away from his brother before he strangled him for being so dense. 

"Oy!" Ben turned at the sound of Michael's voice, "Don't pout. I'm a great brother and picked up a candle for you to give her so you don't look like a total tosser." 

Rolling his eyes, Ben turned and stalked toward the coffee shop as Michael's snickers followed behind him. 

~

The tap at the doorframe caused (Y/N) to look up from her book, smiling as Angela poked her head into the room. 

"Sorry love, didn't want to bother you but I got a gingerbread house going and I have to pop out to finish some Christmas shopping. Would you mind finishing it up for me?" 

Smiling and nodding, she placed her bookmark in her book and pushed her sweater sleeves up, "Sure. Did Michael also give up?" 

"No, he's actually out with some friends. Ben's taken over for now but figured he could use reinforcements." 

Angela's tone was casual but (Y/N)'s eyes snapped to her anyway, trying to figure out if she had planned this with a mother's intuition or if she just didn't want her eldest to be alone. 

Either way, she appreciated getting more one on one time with Ben. 

As she made her way down the stairs, she felt Angela's cool palm catch her elbow right before she hit the landing, "Love..." the tone of her voice made (Y/N) stop and turn, "I'm so happy you and Michael are close and I know you two are friends but...I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I think there may be something...extra with you and Ben." 

Her stomach clenched and all of a sudden she found it difficult to look directly at Angela.

"I know it's none of my business and I would never pry or try to tell you how to live your life, much," she modified her statement at (Y/N)'s raised eyebrow.

"But...I really wouldn't mind if maybe one day you were really my daughter." 

The lump in (Y/N)'s throat made a response impossible so she just nodded and Angela smiled wanly. Bringing a hand up to rest on her cheek, Angela's eyes were watery. 

"Right," Angela cleared her throat and moved past (Y/N) on the stairs, "I'm counting on you to make that gingerbread house not look like a disaster!" She called over her shoulder.

Sniffing, (Y/N) swiped a finger under her eye, catching the moisture that had fallen. Shaking her head, she moved down the stairs and pushed open the kitchen door only to be met by a wall of sound. 

THAT'S THE JINGLE BELL ROCK!

Ben's voice was hilariously off key, the Santa hat on his head askew and flour covered his face. 

Which dropped comically as he moved to the back of the gingerbread of the house and his eyes met (Y/N)'s.

Her mouth was moving but Ben couldn't understand what she was saying. Fumbling in the pocket of his joggers, he pulled out his phone and hit pause. 

"-Mean Girls dance?" 

"Are you asking me to learn the Mean Girls dance to this song with you?" 

"What makes you think I don't already know that dance by heart?" She cocked an eyebrow, moving closer to inspect the house from all angles. 

Ben's hands immediately became sweaty as (Y/N) got closer to him, eyes squinted as she scrutinized the work he'd done so far. 

"Went for a classic look I see." 

"Well, you know what they say, if it ain't broke and all that."

Nodding, (Y/N) turned to face him, eyes lighting up as she took in the streaks of flour all over him.

"You managed to get flour in your eyebrow. And on your cheek and...wait...you have frosting..."

Her voice trailed off and Ben's breath caught in his throat as her hand came up to gently swipe a bit of frosting from underneath his eye.

Her palm cupped his cheekbone and she wasn't even thinking when she gently stroked it with her thumb. The sigh that escaped Ben was involuntary and caused (Y/N)'s lips to quirk up slightly. 

"Did you get it?" the words left Ben's mouth in a wisp and (Y/N) found herself leaning forward to catch what he had said. 

"I think so, yeah." She whispered back, not making any move to remove her hand from his face, thumb still gently stroking his cheekbone, letting her eyes get lost in his. 

Suddenly feeling like his legs wouldn't support him, Ben put a hand down on the table and that's when a loud clang caused them to jump apart. 

Slapping a hand over her heart, Ben looked embarrassed as he bent down and brandished the decorating knife that had fallen to the floor. 

"God that scared me. Are you okay? Did you cut your hand?" Ben chuckled and showed (Y/N) the fronts and backs of his hands. 

"Clean, not a scratch on me." 

There were a few seconds of silence as (Y/N)'s eyes traveled all over his hands. Ben cleared his throat and (Y/N)'s eyes widened as they snapped up to meet his. 

"Sorry, I, uh, got distracted." 

No need for Ben to know she was distracted thinking about his hands wrapped around her throat. 

"Well, now that we've got the harrowing death by kitchen utensil out of the way, did my Mum send you in here to help me decorate?" 

"She did. Apparently she doesn't trust her own son to be responsible with decorating a home for cookies." 

"She barely trusts me to take care of myself I don't know why this would be any different." 

Every laugh Ben managed to pull from (Y/N)'s lips felt like a victory to him. 

"Well, put the tunes back on Hardy and is there another Santa hat I can wear? I feel severely underdressed for the occasion." 

Smirking, Ben held up a finger as he pulled a plastic bin from underneath the kitchen table. 

"Mum brought this out and I think I spotted something in here earlier that I think would suit you much better than a Santa hat. Close your eyes." 

Making a big production of closing her eyes and covering them with her hands, she heard items being moved then the creak of the floor as Ben drew closer.

His body felt warm as he stood in front of her and slowly slide a headband onto her head, making sure to not ruin her hair. He smelled like sugar and spices and she was overwhelmed with the urge to lick his neck. 

"Alright, open your eyes." 

She did, blinking at Ben as he bit his lips, trying to keep from laughing. "It really suits you I think." 

Looking wildly from side to side to find a mirror, Ben pulled out his phone and turned his camera on, "Here, let's take a picture. Then you can really see how amazing you look."

(Y/N) leaned into Ben and he tried to ignore the voice in his head telling him to kiss her cheek. 

"BEN!" She could barely say his name as giggles overtook her. The headband with light up Christmas bulbs in danger of falling off as she bent over with laughter. 

Ben couldn't help but laugh with her. Her laugh was infectious, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of her life. 

"I don't understand why you're laughing, this is a very serious matter." He wheezed out as (Y/N) straightened up, trying to take a deep breath in. "Okay, okay, whew, alright. I'm ready for this picture." She waved her hands in front of her face as she did her best to stop laughing. 

"Ready? 3, 2, 1" Ben counted down and as he pulled the picture up so they could look at it he didn't think he'd seen anything more beautiful.

(Y/N) was mid laugh, Ben's eyes were twinkling as he leaned into her. Their respective headgear askew, flour and icing all over their faces. 

"Is that our Christmas card?" (Y/N) joked as she wandered back over to the table with the decorations, picking up a piping bag full of icing and wielding it with an expert precision. 

"Yeah, it can say 'Our First Christmas'" Ben replied, taking one last look at it and hoping that maybe one year, they really could get Christmas cards together. 

~

Christmas Day dawned bright and early.

It had snowed last night and Ben and (Y/N) had delighted in locking Michael out in the snow when he'd run outside to make a snow angel in nothing but his boxers.  

Waking up to an incessant banging on her door, (Y/N) let out a groan as she stuck her head out of the cocoon she'd made of her blankets only to be met by Michael throwing a pillow at her face.

"MMPH"

"Wake up! it's time to be holly and jolly and all that bullshit!" 

Ben's laugh made her perk up a little and sit up farther in bed, "I'd be a lot more holly and jolly if you wouldn't throw pillows in my face." 

"She's got a point." 

"I hate when you take her side Benjamin. What happened to brotherly love?" 

"Oh that went out the door years ago." 

Michael's reply was drowned out by her and Ben's laughter. 

Throwing the pillow back to him, she and Ben smiled at each other as Michael caught the pillow and disappeared down the hall. 

"Merry Christmas." Ben said as he leaned up against her doorframe. 

"Merry Christmas" she replied, swinging her legs down over the bed frame, letting them dangle off the side. 

Swallowing thickly, Ben had to tear his eyes from her legs, shaking the image of her legs intertwined with his from his brain. 

"So, has Angela been up since five making breakfast?" (Y/N) said through a yawn, stretching and not realizing the turmoil that was causing Ben as he watched her body unfold before him like a flower. 

"Uh...yeah. Yes. Most likely. She loves a hearty Christmas breakfast." he murmured as (Y/N) finally stood up and out of bed. 

"Well, yeah. Who doesn't?" She remarked as she hunted down her sweatshirt and pulled it on over her t-shirt. 

He let out a breathy laugh as he did his best to get the swelling of his cock under control. 

(Y/N) finally let herself look at Ben fully as she pulled the sweatshirt over her head and felt her lower half growing warm. 

Alarm bells were ringing in her head and the only thought going through her head at the moment was GRAY SWEATPANTS!!!!!

Gray sweatpants and a loose t-shirt with a low v-neck that had her thinking how easily she could have teared it in half. 

They would have stood there, devouring each other with their gaze, the sexual tension getting so thick they were drowning in it, if Michael hadn't called up the stairs calling them prats to break the tension.

~

"Well! Seeing as how we're all so full we can barely move, do we want to open presents?" 

Angela had barely finished that sentence when Michale had disappeared through the dining room doorway, yelling over his shoulder "C'mon! I want to see if I got the new FIFA." 

Laughing at Angela rolling her eyes, (Y/N) stood up as Ben did the same, smirking at his family. 

"My lady" Ben cracked as he and (Y/N) reached the door at the same time. 

"Thank you, sir." Dropping into a curtsey, Ben raised an eyebrow.

"You're surprisingly good at that." 

"Learned from the Queen myself." 

"You know the Queen?" 

"I'm the secret princess actually."

"Might have to start calling you 'princess' then." 

(Y/N)'s stomach clenched at the thought of him calling her princess in his deep voice. Keeping her eyes down, she let out an airy laugh, hoping to sound unaffected. 

If she'd looked up and seen how sincere Ben's eyes were, there would have been no doubt in her mind that he was being 100% serious about the new nickname. 

As they made their way into the living room, Angela settling into her chair and Michael sprawled on the couch, Ben suddenly felt nervous. 

He hoped (Y/N) liked his present. He'd felt resentful toward Michael as he wrapped the candle. He knew this was a fine gift for someone he'd literally met just a few days ago but he couldn't help being disgruntled that Michael had swooped in and stolen such a perfect gift from him. 

Swatting Michael's feet off the couch he settled in as (Y/N) crouched next to the tree, "Can I hand people presents? That's how we did it at my home, if that's okay." She ducked her head, cheeks growing pink at appearing sentimental. Ben didn't realize he was smiling at her until he caught his mum appraising him. 

Running a hand through his hair, he shifted in place as Michael yelled, "OI. Where're my gifts?"

"Hmm, I'm looking but I don't see any gifts for you...why...it looks like these are all for me!"

"Fuck off-"

"Michael!"

"Sorry mum. Frick off, I see one with my name on it right there." Pointing emphatically, Ben smacked his hand out of his face. 

Snickering, (Y/N) scooted over to grab the present and threw it at Michael. 

From there, it was all a blur of wrapping paper, bows flying and exclamations of surprise and delight. 

Ben was busy reading the inside flap of the novel his mum had gotten him when he heard Michael's voice cut through his reverie, 

"Here. (Y/N). I got this one for you."

"Aww, Michael. You shouldn't have." 

"Yeah, well, don't say that till you've opened it, dear." 

"Mum!"

Forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to him, Ben sat there, staring lazers at the box in (Y/N)'s hands. 

It, funnily enough, was shaped like the box the candle came in. 

It even had the same wrapping paper he'd used. 

Ben hardly breathed as the wrapping paper fell away and the candle he'd wrapped just last night was revealed. 

"Aww, Michael! Thank you so much. I love it." She smiled at him as she uncapped it and sniffed it. 

Bolting up, Ben murmured something about getting more coffee and stumbled out of the living room. 

Gripping the sink, he could barely believe what he'd just witnessed. 

He didn't even want to believe it meant what he thought it meant. 

"Hey."

Head jerking up, he didn't even notice the present in Michael's hand until he thrust it forward.

"Give it to her. You had dibs on it anyway." 

Ben's jaw dropped, "Is-are you actually doing something decent for once in your life?" 

"Shut the fuck up, man. I see how you look at her. There's no way you don't not have legitimate feelings for her."

Struggling for a quick response, he could only manage a half hearted grunt as Michael emphatically shoved the present closer to him. 

"Go on. Take it. She's gonna love it and it'll mean way more coming from you than me I bet." 

Gently taking it from Michael, he had no words. Looking up, he pulled Michael into a hug. 

"Oh. Alright. Guess this is what we're doing." 

Letting him go, Ben sniffed, rolling his shoulders back, "Right. Okay. Thanks for this man." 

"Yeah. Just...don't hug me again." 

"No promises." 

"Figured." Michael was almost out of the kitchen when he stopped and turned back to Ben, "Also. My room is right next to yours. If I hear any noises that even sound remotely like sex-" 

"Oh my god, dude."

"I'm just saying! Jesus isn't the only one watching you sin and judging you for it." 

Ben could only stare incredulously at Michael's back as he contemplated how his brother could do something so sweet but ruin it all in the same moment. 

~

They had just finished dinner and Ben still hadn't found the perfect time to give (Y/N) her present. 

Every time he thought he could get her in a moment alone, someone walked into the room or the timing seemed wrong. 

He knew he'd have to act soon but the right moment had yet to present itself and he was getting anxious. 

It also didn't help that Michael kept texting him asking if he'd given the gift to (Y/N) yet. 

So, yeah. No pressure. 

"Oof. I feel like all I've done today is eat." 

"How is that different than any other day though?" 

Throwing a Christmas Cracker at Michael, (Y/N) laughed. 

"You don't need to expose me like this." 

Ben watched their interaction with jealously. He wished he could just give her the present now but he wanted it to be perfect. 

Pushing back from the table, (Y/N) stood up and stretched, "Well. I'm going to go for a walk. Does anyone want to come with?" 

Ben's eyes lit up and he sprang out of his chair. Before he could say anything, Michael was rising as well, opening his mouth.

Getting ready to body check his brother into next week for ruining this moment, Angela stepped in. 

"Michael. You haven't done any of the cleaning up this week. You're staying here and helping me wash up."

(Y/N) almost missed the wink Angela shot her as she and Ben were left in the dining room as Michael's protests grew quieter. 

"Shall we?"

"My lady." 

Smiling, she stepped into the foyer. Her and Ben making idle chit chat as they bundled up against the cold. 

Stepping out into the night, the clouds were heavy with snow. Taking a deep breath in, she sighed out, enjoying the look of her breath appearing in a fog before her.

"Smells like snow."

"Snow has a smell?"

"Yeah, it...I don't know how to describe it. It just smells fresh and new." 

They walked on in silence for a bit. (Y/N) was tempted to ask why he hadn't gotten her a gift for Christmas. She had gotten him the pair of rounded sunglasses he'd admired in the shop window for Christmas and she had just met the man.

Feeling pressure on her elbow, she stopped. 

"Come with me." 

Following after Ben, not minding that his hand was still on her elbow guiding her, she wondered where they were going. 

Feeling bold (with the help of the generous portions of wine Angela had served at dinner), and figuring it must have been uncomfortable for Ben to lead her by the elbow, she gently untangled her arm from his. 

Smiling at Ben's furrowed brows she slide her hand into his. 

"Figured this would be easier than holding my elbow." 

Fighting the smile breaking over his face, and failing miserably, Ben stared ahead. Butterflies erupting in his stomach at the feel of her hand in his. 

"Where are we even going?" 

"Oh. Yeah. I should have thought of that. Not really smart of me, huh."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, I'm not a bad guy but still. We don't really know each other and it's dark. I know some women might be nervous in these circumstances."

Trying to quite the Women's Studies major screaming in her head about his "wokeness", she gave his hand a squeeze.

"I don't know. Just feel like I've known you for much longer than we actually have." 

"I feel the same way." 

(Y/N) thought she had imagined him saying that, his voice was so low but with how his cheeks pinkened, she figured she hadn't imagined it. 

Pulling her up short, he pulled them toward a bench. Two trees bending over it, branches intertwining like lovers fingers creating a canopy. 

Sitting down he put his hands in his coat pocket where (Y/N) thought she heard gift wrap crinkling. 

"So."

"So." She said, tilting her head back to stare at the clouds. Ben took this time to admire her profile. 

"Why here?"

"Just wait. It'll be worth it."

Shrugging, she turned her face down to look right at Ben. 

"Think it's going to start snowing soon." 

Huffing a breath, Ben turned his body to face her more fully. 

"Listen. What you said earlier about it feeling like we've known each other for forever, I genuinely feel like I've known you for a long time. And...I got you a Christmas present."

Ben shook his head as (Y/N)'s face melted into a bemused expression. 

"This isn't coming out right but-" he rubbed a hand over his face and (Y/N) watched as his shoulders melted and when he lifted his head out of his hand, she knew he'd made a decision.

"I like you. A lot. And I know you've known my family for a while and my brother's your best friend and my mum's your second mum but. Fuck. I just. I really like you and ever since I saw you I thought you were gorgeous but then we talked and you were funny and so smart and," 

He sucked in a huge breath as (Y/N)'s head kept spinning with what he’d just revealed to her. 

"That's why I got you this and I wanted to give it to you at the perfect moment so. Merry Christmas."

He shoved the present towards (Y/N) who just barely grabbed it before it rammed into her stomach. 

"Wha-. Ben. I-" 

She stopped as Ben frantically shook his head, 

"Please just open the present before you give me an answer," his eyes widened at how that could have come across, "Not like, I want that to change your mind but. I don't know. Just. Please open it."

(Y/N) nodded. Looking down at her hands and letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.  

Ben noticed how her hands quivered as she pulled the ribbon off. His eyes stayed locked on her hands. He couldn't stand to look at her face until he heard her gasp. 

Eyes trailing up to meet her face, his whole body melted. 

One hand over her mouth, her eyes were watering at the necklace. 

"Ben...it's beautiful. I. I don't know what to say." She let out a watery laugh as Ben leaned toward her, 

"There’s another thing in there. It goes with the necklace." 

Sniffing, she picked up the book underneath the necklace and let out a peal of laughter. 

'You remembered!" 

"Of course. You said you needed more books of poetry to really be a pretentious ass." 

"God. This is amazing. But these actually look like amazing poems." She consented as she quickly flipped through the pages. 

Shaking herself before getting too sucked into the book, she blinked her eyes up at Ben. 

"Will you put this on for me?" Brandishing the sun necklace between them. 

Nodding, Ben took it with shaking hands.

 Turning, she moved her hair out of the way, and tried not to gasp as Ben's fingertips grazed the back of her neck. 

"Okay. It's on." he whispered. 

Turning back around she locked eyes with him. Realizing they were still very close to each other. 

"How does it look?" 

Swallowing thickly, Ben leaned closer.

"It looks amazing." 

"Good." She whispered against his lips and Ben's only reply was to press his lips to hers. 

Grabbing his arms, she moaned at the muscle’s flexing underneath her fingertips. Ben wrapped his arms around her waist. He tried to pull her closer and cursed their layers. 

(Y/N) would have stayed entwined in Ben's embrace all night if a brilliant flash hadn't erupted around them. 

Pulling back in surprise, she was met with the sight of every tree in the park covered with a thousand tiny lights.  

Gasping, she barely registered Ben laughing at the delighted look that crossed over her face. 

As her eyes drank in the sight around her, Ben couldn't help but admire the way the lights were reflected in her eyes. 

"What is this?"

"It's a park I discovered one year when I was walking alone.  They do this every year from the first of December to New Year's Eve. I haven't told anyone about it. I wanted to share it with someone who was really special to me." 

Ben didn't know which was shining brighter. The lights on the trees or (Y/N)'s eyes.

"I really like you too." 

"Yeah?" 

Nodding emphatically, (Y/N) snaked her arms around his neck. "Since the moment I laid eyes on you really." 

"Hmm. Seems like someone is stealing my lines." 

"It sounds better coming from my mouth though." 

"I bet a lot of things sound better coming from your mouth. Princess." Ben growled before claiming her lips as his.

Moaning, (Y/N) had to stop herself from straddling Ben then and there. 

Breaking apart from Ben's lips was the toughest thing she'd ever had to do. 

"My apartment's not far from here actually."

"Yeah?" 

"Come with me." 

Smiling at how she turned his own command on him, Ben grabbed her hand and together they ran through the cold toward the bright lights of (Y/N)'s cozy apartment. 

~

Waking up the next morning, (Y/N) was briefly confused by the brief weight around her torso.

When she felt the steady rise and fall of Ben's chest, she sank back into him as memories of last night flooded through her, causing her to press her thighs together to stave off the wanting that had appeared again. 

Hearing her phone vibrate, she carefully reached an arm out to make sure Angela hadn't called a search party on them.

Ben texted me. Angela's fine but I had to talk her down from subscribing to wedding magazines. x 

Snorting, she shot a heart emoji to Michael as she felt Ben's lips press into her shoulder. 

"Morning, princess." 

Moaning, she turned to face him. "Your morning voice is the hottest thing in the world." 

"Yeah?" he cocked an eyebrow as (Y/N) nodded.

Ben took a moment to consider it. 

"Then you clearly haven't seen yourself first thing in the morning wearing only that necklace."

Shivering at Ben's finger pressing the charm into her skin, she smiled. 

"Figured you'd like that."

"Like it? I love it." 

Smiling, she burrowed further into his chest and said through a yawn, "Will you read a poem to me?" 

"Of course, darling." Planting a kiss on her head, Ben reached over to grab the book of poetry from the bedside table. They'd fallen asleep after reading each other poems from it last night. 

Paging through it, Ben stopped when he found the perfect one:

Light. 

Sun. 

Gold. 

Your Smile. 

Your 

Heart

Your love.

Your love for me. 

All golden. 

They spent the rest of the day alternating between the bed, the kitchen and a walk back to the park with the lights where they promised to each other to return back to it every Christmas Day.

[vxlkyrie]

through my lens

pairing: spencer reid x reader

genre: fluff (god so much fluff), friends to lovers!au

warning: mentions of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.8k

summary: spencer comes up with the best birthday gift a girl could ask for – along with the best confession

a/n: hey y’all, it’s been a hot minute. i apologize for going m.i.a. for a bit and only reblogging fics and gifsets. i’ve been trying to give myself a little break from writing after finishing my classes for the semester, and then i found myself having writer’s block. but now i’ve found the motivation to write again! i’ve gotten into criminal minds during this quarantine, and became whipped for reid. so why not start writing for him? hopefully i can write more for him. and with that said, i hope you guys enjoy this fluff-filled oneshot!

everyone in the bau had their hobbies. spencer loves to read, penelope knits, hotch golfs on weekends – just to name a few. 

when you weren’t creating profiles and catching unsubs, you were roaming around d.c. taking photos of literally everything. a rose bush, your lunch at the cafe down the street from your apartment, the beautiful cotton candy sunset. you were seen always taking a picture, whether it was with a dslr, a polaroid, or simply your phone. you also took pictures of the bau team whenever you all decide to hang out. 

a night at the club? pictures of emily, jj, and penelope drunk off their asses while grinding on each other. 

dinner after successfully closing a case? pictures of derek and spencer having a mini food fight and hotch trying to stop them. 

christmas sleepover at rossi’s mansion? pictures of rossi cooking and the ladies making cookies. 

jj’s wedding? pictures of the blushing bride and groom and everyone slow dancing with each other (until derek pulled your camera out of your hand and forced you to dance with everyone). 

let’s just say you have a wall filled with polaroids of your second family.

photography has been a passion of yours for the longest time. although, when you first started in the bau, you felt like a burden you stated taking pictures of the team in their happiest moments. but over the years, everyone assured you that it was fine and even encouraged you to continue, which made your heart flutter. 

but what made your heart flutter even more is when a certain doctor asks you for tips on how to get into photography.

“hey y/n!” a male voice greeted you while you were working on paperwork. you snapped your head up to see spencer giving you a small smile as he leaned on your desk.

you became close with the doctor shortly after you joined the unit. probably because you two were around the same age, but also probably because of the similar interests you two had. 

he would come over to your apartment frequently for movie nights and whenever he just wanted to unwind after a case and didn’t feel like going back to his place. 

the first time he slept over, you had to apologize for the lack of literature books on your shelves that were filled with scrapbooks instead. he told you it was no problem and found himself getting lost in one of your scrapbooks.

“no way! is that y/n in high school?” he practically squealed.

“what?!” your eyes widened as you ran towards spencer and attempted to get the embarrassing scrapbook out of his hand, only for him to lift it high into the air and out of your reach.

“why didn’t you tell me you wore glasses? you looked so cute!” he laughed as he looked up at the scrapbook that he held above his head.

“i looked horrible! give it back!” you whined.

“only if you can reach it.” he smirked.

“fuck you. you just had to be 6′1.” you pouted as the doctor continued to go through the rest of your scrapbooks (he especially enjoyed going through the scrapbook that was filled with pictures of the team).

and even though you complained the entire time he went through your collection, you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach as your feelings for spencer grew.

“what’s up, doc?” you beamed back.

“nothing much. i just wanted to ask you something.” he said as he fumbled with his hands.

“yeah, what is it?” you asked politely.

“i-i want to learn more about photography, and i was hoping you could help me?” he answered softly as a tint of pink spread across his cheeks

god help me, he’s so cute.

“yeah of course!” you chuckled. spencer’s eyes lit up with joy as he smiled wider. “what do you need help with?”

“well, the basics, and what kind of camera to use. although, i’ve heard digital cameras have been getting more expensive these days. maybe it’s because more people are getting into photography. i’ve seen a lot of websites that garcia showed me where people are starting photography businesses and i- i’m rambling again, aren’t i?” spencer scratched the back of his neck. 

you weren’t one to cut spencer off while he’s talking. mostly because he looked so attractive while doing it, and it still baffles you how that’s possible.

“it’s fine spence,” you softly smile at him, which caused his heart to speed up a little. “and honestly, using your phone is a great start into learning basic photography.”

“really?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“yeah, give me your phone,” you asked, holding out your hand. he pulled it out and handed it to you. “i know you’re like a technophobe, but this little guy is pretty useful, especially when it comes to photography.” you explained as you opened the camera app, showing him the different features on it. “now here’s a grid. ever heard of rule of thirds?”

spencer shooked his head, which surprised you.

“oh really? well basically...” you started to speak.

spencer started zoning out. he already knew what the rule was, but he just wanted an excuse to stare at you.

the resident genius has been in love with you ever since you joined the unit. and his feelings grew even more after finding out you both have a love for halloween and science fiction. but of course, he never acted on it. the poor boy was already shy enough, and after being rejected several times, he especially doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

oh y/n, if only you knew...

“so overall, it’s a great way to line up your photos,” you finished explaining, turning your head to see spencer spacing out. “you okay spencer?” you waved a hand over his face.

“w-what? oh yeah, i’m fine. rule of thirds is my best friend when taking pictures. got it.” he blinked, making you chuckle.

“hey pretty boy, we’re being summoned by garcia.” a deep voice said as a hand slapped over spencer’s shoulder.

“hi derek!” you smiled.

“hey sugar,” he winked. “come on reid, let’s go.” derek turned to spencer. spencer nodded at the older man and started to walk.

“thanks again y/n!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“of course! if you need anything, just let me know!” you yelled back as you continued working on your paperwork.

“anything?” derek whispered, teasing spencer as they made their way to penelope’s office.

“stop. she was just teaching me some stuff about photography.”

“you are such a sucker for her. just tell her you like her already. we all know you both are in love with each other.” derek rolled his eyes.

“she’s not in love with me.”

“you have an iq of 187 and for what? you don’t have to be a genius to know that she feels the same way.” derek said as he opened the door.

-

“ah my lovelies are here!” penelope said as she hugged derek and spencer.

“what’s up baby girl?” the formal asked.

“i’ve already told emily, jj, hotch, and rossi this, but i am planning a surprise birthday party for y/n at rossi’s place!” she clapped joyfully.

“isn’t her birthday like a month away?” spencer raised an eyebrow.

“i don’t even think she remembers that her birthday’s coming up soon.” derek added.

“which makes this even easier,” penelope smiled. “the week of her birthday, we will be going over to rossi’s house after work and we will help decorate. the night of the party, spencer, you will be driving her to rossi’s. just say that we’re all meeting up to go to a club or something.” she quickly said.

“i guess that’s possible.” the younger boy slowly nodded.

“are you sure she isn’t gonna be suspicious that reid’s willing to go to a club?” derek asked.

“hey!”

“he’s a genius, he’ll come up with some excuse,” penelope said. “okay great. let’s go team! now get out please.”

spencer slowly walked down the hall that lead back to the bullpen.

what am i gonna get her this year? i already got her the whole star wars saga collection. this gift has to be more sentimental. 

he bit his lip in deep thought.

then suddenly, a light bulb flickered on above his head.

that’s it!

-

a month passes by quickly when you're working on cases mostly every day. 

there were a few times where you would have the day off or at least the night off after a long day at work. you spent those times with the bau, whether it was having a night in with the girls, checking out the costume stores with spencer (who cares if it’s nowhere near october?), or even a spontaneous night out at the karaoke bar.

the rest of the team have managed to sneak around during the week of your birthday, gathering party decorations and gifts, making sure everything is set up correctly before the big day.

spencer worked very hard on his gift for you, adding the finishing touches as he stored it in a closet that was filled with the rest of the team’s gifts.

set up for y/n’s birthday party – check.

and in a blink of an eye, it was your birthday and the night of party. the team was flying back from a case that took several days, and you want nothing more than to knock out on your bed.

“the night is still young! let’s all go out!” emily exclaimed as you all gathered your belongings in the bullpen. derek nodded his head in agreement, catching on to emily’s little scheme.

“hell yeah, i’m in!” jj responded. “how about you, y/n?”

“i don’t know guys, i’m pretty tired.” you yawned.

“come on y/n, you have to come with us.” emily pouted.

“what’s happening?” penelope walked in.

“we’re gonna hit the clubs, you in?”

“definitely. spence, you coming?” penelope looked at him as if she had telepathically sent him a message. spencer widened his eyes.

“u-uh, yeah. i’m in.” he gave a small smile.

“look y/n, even reid’s coming! you love clubbing with us. it’s gonna be a great time!” jj said as she held your arms. you sighed.

“fine. i’ll meet you guys in like two hours, okay?”

the ladies cheered in victory.

“perfect! let’s pregame at rossi’s and then we’ll all go together.” emily said.

“great! spencer, do you mind driving me to my apartment?” you said as you turned towards him. he shook his head in response and you both headed towards the parking lot.

get y/n to come over to rossi’s – check.

-

after you got ready, spencer drove to rossi’s mansion as you sang to throwbacks.

he changed into a simple black dress shirt and jeans (and of course, his converse) while you wore a black off-the-shoulder mini dress and heels. your makeup was flawless as well as your curled hair.

spencer couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful in this moment, and can’t wait for the surprise he and the team had in store for you.

soon, you two were parked in rossi’s huge driveway.

“she’s here!” spencer texted penelope as soon as he put the car in park. he ran over to your side of the car and opened the door for you.

“what a gentleman! thank you, kind sir.” you smiled and reach out for spencer’s hand as he helped you out of your seat. you two walked to the front door to see rossi standing with a huge grin on his face.

“hey rossi!” you greeted while hugging him. he grabbed your hand and opened the door and slowly let you in, with spencer trailing not too far behind. “where is everyone?” you asked as he led you to the dark living room.

“surprise!” many voices shouted. your eyes widened as the lights turned on, only to see your closest friends and everyone from the bau and their families smiling at you. even the kids were there.

there were balloons that floated onto the ceiling. foil curtains that filled up rossi’s wall (he wasn’t a big fan of it, but he was willing to hang it up because it was all for you). tables filled with drinks, food, and gifts. and don’t forget the banner that hung across the threshold leading to the backyard that read ‘happy birthday y/n!’

you felt yourself tearing up.

“oh my god!” you patted around your eye area. “i love you all, but goddamnit you almost made me ruin my mascara!” you yelled jokingly, earning laughs from everyone (even hotch).

“happy birthday!” rossi said as he hugged you and kissed your cheeks. everyone gathered around you to hug you, take pictures with you, and say their happy birthday’s.

“happy birthday, sugar.” derek hugged you.

“i honestly forgot that it was today.” you laughed as he joined you.

even spencer gave you a bear hug and a kiss on the forehead, which made your face heat up.

“happy birthday y/n.” he smiled at you.

you were in euphoria as the party went on. you were dancing with your best friends and the bau ladies (and derek) as music blasted throughout the backyard. everyone was occupied, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, even spencer, who was having a beer while conversing with hotch.

“so when are you gonna tell y/n you like her?” he asked spencer who was looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. spencer turned his head towards his boss.

“soon.” he smiled, sounding very determined.

“as much as i love seeing you guys dance your asses off, it’s time for the birthday girl to blow out her candles.” rossi announced.

everyone gathered around the table as you walked towards the table, seeing a beautifully decorated cake with lit candles placed in front of you. they all sang happy birthday (with hotch recording everything), making you smile from ear to ear while trying not to tear up again. soon, you blew out your candles, followed by cheers. rossi helped cut the cake and distributed it to everyone.

“as soon as everyone gets their slice, please go to the living room so y/n can open her gifts!” he shouted. everyone obeyed and started to walked back inside. spencer’s eyes widened.

shit. 

“you okay, kid?” derek asked, approaching spencer.

“uh, yeah?” he answered, clearing his throat as an attempt to try to hide his panicked expression.

“what’s got you nervous?”

“i-i didn’t know she was gonna open her gifts in front of everyone.” spencer practically whispered.

“why? what’d you get her?” derek smirked.

“i guess you’ll see.” spencer sighed.

-

everyone sat in the living room, facing you as you opened your gifts. every time you opened one, your heart melts even more.

when you opened rossi’s gift, you thought you were gonna pass out.

“rossi, i cannot take this!” you exclaimed as you held a box that contained a new camera. “this must’ve costed you a fortune!” you tried to give rossi the box, but he simply shook his head.

“you’re like a daughter to me, y/n. of course i had to spoil my child!” he said as everyone laughed around him.

“i can assure you buying that camera certainly did not put a dent in his bank account.” emily quipped. you thanked rossi with a hug and continued to open more gifts in your seat between spencer and emily.

you were curious when you lifted a slightly heavy bag from hotch. you gasped as soon as you looked inside to see a brand new laptop sitting inside.

“hotch, you shouldn’t have!”

“i know you recently broke your laptop, so i figured why not save you the trouble of getting one. you also deserve it after being such a great addition to the team.” he said, giving you a small smile as you hugged him.

emily bought you a ton of polaroid film and sd cards, as well as a bottle of wine – the key to a girl’s heart.

“these are exactly what i needed, thank you babe.” you kissed her cheek.

jj and will bought you a vinyl player along with a few vinyls from your favorite artists. they also added a few drawings of you that henry made that had ‘auntie y/n’ written on all of them.

“i am definitely putting these on my fridge.” you said as you lightly ruffled the little guy’s hair.

derek got you a pair of headphones (from the same brand as his) so you didn’t have to borrow his during the plane ride home.

“now we can both listen to our own music with our own headphones.” he teased, hugging you as you chuckled.

penelope’s gift had you screaming. you opened the box and moved the tissue paper to see a whole lingerie set laid out. spencer’s eyes widened as derek whistled, while hotch and rossi where trying not to laugh their asses off. jj immediately placed her hands over henry’s eyes.

“how did you get my size right?!”

“i have my ways.” she winked at you.

you had one more gift to open – spencer’s gift.

“you don’t have to open mine.” spencer whispered to you. you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“why not? i opened everyone’s.”

“it’s not as good as everyone else’s.”

“spence, it doesn’t matter how expensive a gift is. you could literally give me a fake plant and i will love it until the day that i die.” you smiled at him, causing his face to slightly heat up.

“well, prepare to be disappointed because i definitely did not get you a fake plant.” he said. you scoffed.

“come on spence, how bad could it be?” you said as you pulled out an object from the gift bag. you curiously looked at it.

is it a book?

“what is it?” you asked spencer.

“well, o-open it.” spencer shyly said.

you turn the cover to see a collage of pictures. it was a small scrapbook. you examined the pictures only to realize they were picture of you. you started blushing as you flipped through the pages and recalled where several of the pictures have been taken. you didn’t even realize spencer was taking pictures of you half of the time.

-

you were having a sleepover with the girls, drinking and crying over captain america. you heard a knock on the door.

“must be the pizza guy, i’ll get it!” you stood up. you opened the door to see spencer standing there.

“hey y/n! ready to watch the new season of doctor who?” he clenched his messenger bag in excitement as he entered your apartment, shocked to see his coworkers sitting on the couch while the tv played.

“that was tonight? oh spencer, i’m so sorry. i completely forgot.” you said, feeling guilty.

“oh, that’s fine. we can always watch doctor who another time.” he reassured.

“how about you join us spencer?” penelope chirped in.

“i don’t want to intrude on your sleepover.” spencer shook his hands in front of him.

“yeah, come join us! you’re already here, and i think you left some of your pajamas somewhere.” you raised your eyebrows at him with a pleading smile on your face.

how could he resist when you’re looking at him like that?

“fine.” he gave in as the girls cheered.

as soon as he knew it, he was listening in on the gossip as the girls did each other’s nails. you laughed as you smeared a green substance on your face.

“what’s that on your face y/n?” spencer asked, earning a few giggles from emily and jj.

“it’s a facial, spence. it’s good for your skin. you want to try it?” you asked as you held out the container towards him. he nodded. “you want me to put it on for you?” he nodded again.

spencer tried his hardest not to blush while your fingers brushed against his face. he could smell the faint scent of mint from the facial along with the lavender from your shampoo.

“okay, and we’re done. wait for half an hour and then wash it off.” you said as you both took a seat on your couch.

once you started paying attention to the movie, spencer stole glances in your direction, watching you react to the movie. he couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snapped a picture of you (thank god his phone was on silent).

he smiled to himself one more time before putting his focus back onto the movie.

-

“spencer, what are we doing here? it’s july!” you said as you two entered the costume shop.

“it’s never too early to plan your halloween costume, y/n.” he laughed as you looked at the masks that hung from the wall. he busied himself, browsing through different costumes.

should i be frankenstein? maybe i should go for steampunk this year?

“check this out spence!” your muffled voice caught his attention. he looked to see you dancing around while wearing one of the masks. 

spencer laughed at you while you continued to dance in the middle of the aisle. he took out his phone and took a photo of you, not caring that your arms turned out blurry while you were flailing your arms around.

“that was fun,” you took off the masks. “anyways, what kind of costume are you going for this year?” you asked as your ran your fingers through your hair, trying to fix it.

spencer was too busy looking at you.

“spencer?” you said with confusion. “spence?”

he slightly shook his head.

fuck, she caught me staring.

“what? oh, i don’t know yet. how about you?” he asked back.

“hmmm, i’m not sure either. i might just play it safe and be a devil or something.” you said as you tried on headbands that had plastic horns glued onto them. you looked at the section next to the devil costumes and saw a bunch of angel costumes. you took one of the halos and placed it on spencer’s head, practically jumping to get it on him. “maybe you should be an angel this year.”

“you think so? why?” he asked, suddenly feeling shy.

“well, maybe cuz you are one?” you grinned.

spencer’s heart raced for hours afterwards.

-

“happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! happy birthday dear emily! happy birthday to you!” the whole team sang as they raised their glasses to the girl of the hour. you couldn’t help but take pictures of everyone as they downed their drinks and hugged emily.

after the team found out it was the brunette’s birthday, you all collectively decided to spend the rest of the evening renting out a room at the karaoke bar to celebrate.

“thank you guys! i fucking love all of you!” emily yelled. you could tell she was tipsy. “now someone put something on, i want to get drunk and sing until my vocal chords explode!”

“well, actually, your vocal chords-” spencer started.

“shh, not right now spence. someone give me a microphone.” emily bit back. you patted your hand on spencer’s back.

after a few rounds of singing from everyone, you decided to do a number with the rest of the girls. you were in the zone, belting out notes you never thought you could do. but with a little bit of liquid courage, you channeled your inner whitney houston as you all sang ‘i wanna dance with somebody.’

hotch was recording (as always) as rossi and derek cheered you all on.

“let’s go baby girl!”

spencer was clapping along, watching you have the time of your life. he had the biggest smile on his face as he took pictures of you singing. he knew that he had it bad for you once you started dancing. but when he didn’t see coming was when you placed your hand on his and pulled him up to his feet.

“dance with me spencer!” you giggled as you whipped your head side to side. you definitely had too much to drink.

“come on pretty boy!” derek hollered. spencer started to pick up the rhythm and moved with you and the girls. the rest of the guys soon joined in and started dancing.

at times like this, spencer is grateful that he chose not to stay in.

-

as you flipped through the rest of the pages, you felt a few tears started to form in your eyes. you skimmed through the rest of the pictures. 

some of them were pictures of you sleeping. on the jet, on the couch in your pajamas during a movie marathon, on rossi’s bed in one of the guest rooms after having one too many glasses of wine.

some of them had spencer in it. once you taught him what selfies were, he took one with you every time the team flew out of state, or even if you two were just getting coffee before work.

there were some where you weren’t even paying attention and spencer was closer to the camera and made it look like he was squeezing your small head.

and there were even a few where you had your hand close to the camera. they were pictures of you when spencer would catch you off-guard. they weren’t the best pictures, but it felt right for him to print them out.

“spence, what are you doing?” you asked as you tried to push his phone away from your face.

“i’m just taking a picture of you!” he giggled.

“why? i look ugly!” you whined.

“no you don’t!” he blurted out as you playfully shoved his phone towards him as he continued taking pictures of you.

“sometimes, i really do hate you.” you joked, ignoring the fact that he said he doesn’t think you’re ugly.

you laughed at the pictures as your heart picked up its pace. aww’s were coming from everyone, making spencer blush an even deeper pink. you got to last page of the scrapbook. instead of seeing a page full of pictures, you saw a familiar handwriting that filled the page.

is this a letter?

“what does it say?” one of your friends asked.

you looked at spencer for permission to read it out loud. he hesitantly nodded. by the looks of it, everyone already knew why he made you a scrapbook, might as well go all the way.

you took a deep breath and started reading.

for the part-time photographer, full-time badass profiler:

dear y/n,

you have been a light in everyone’s life, especially mine. you brought happiness to a team during their darkest times, and you have always been there for me during mine. 

to the girl who is always seen taking pictures of everyone around her, you deserve to be photographed. 

through your lenses, i am one of the many people that fill up your scrapbooks and walls, but through my lens, you are the most beautiful person my camera has ever captured (and even then, these pictures don’t do you justice).

you are the kindest, brightest, and most breathtaking person i’ve ever met, and i am so lucky to have fallen in love with you.

happy birthday!

love, spencer.

you didn’t even notice the small pool of tears that sat over the letter. thank god the pages were protected. even penelope, emily, and jj were crying.

“oh, spencer.” you sighed as you pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. he immediately hugged you back, placing his face in the crook of your neck. you pulled away to look at him.

“did you like it?” he whispered as he wiped away the stray tears on your face.

you smiled at him and leaned towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. he smiled as he kissed you back. loud cheers and applauds can be heard from around the room, but the only things you can hear are yours and spencer’s beating hearts.

“my man!” derek yelled. everyone pulled out their phones to capture this sweet moment.

you both pulled away from each other, not being able to wipe the stupid smiles off your faces.

“i’m guessing you liked it.” spencer quipped, making you laugh.

“i love it. and i love you too.” you grinned. 

spencer pulled you in for another kiss, until you hear several clicks. you turned to see everyone with their phones pointed at you two. you hid your face in his neck in embarrassment, spencer laughing as he held you.

“this is definitely going in the scrapbook.” he chuckled.

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 4

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, drinking, and drunk texting.

A/N: Italics are internal thoughts.

Chapter 3

“Where do you want to eat?” Brooks asked once the two of you reached a strip of fast food and casual eateries.

Both of you left the office in search of a late lunch. In actuality, Brooks surprised you in the parking lot when you pulled in. You had just eaten breakfast two hours prior, but hey, if he was paying, you were going.

“Champs is always good,” you said.

Brooks hummed in reply, but kept walking past the entrance, leaving you standing there puzzled.

“Okaaaaay,” you said as you jogged to catch up. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Okay. Sure. We’ll go with that,” you replied.

When you passed the fifth restaurant, you quickly walked ahead, grabbing the door for Panera Bread and holding it open for him. “In! Now!”

He chucked, shook his head, and walked in, you following behind.

With a large, apple and chicken salad in front of you, as well as large hunk of bread, you decided to let the two of you eat in peace before the interrogation began.

“Do you really need three packets of butter for that piece of bread?” he questioned.

You pointed the plastic butter knife at him. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. And yes, this is a lot of bread, so it deserves a proportionate amount of butter. Bread and butter give me life. Don’t hate,” you replied, tearing a chunk off.

He closed his mouth, chewing a large bite of his sandwich but giving you a large closed lipped smile.  

After your stomach was overstuffed by the bread you insisted on eating, you took a large sip of water, eyeing Brooks who now had his phone in hand.

“You and Jana are too much alike. Always so serious on your damn phones,” you said. Pushing your cup away because you were just too full for even water.

“One to talk. I hear you are mighty chatty with those…Evans guys,” he whispers at the end causing you to roll your eyes.

“They’re both friends,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

“Not with Chris from what I hear,” he said, the smugness thick.

You bite out a laugh. “From what you hear. You mean Jana? That’s your big scoop?  You’re such a punk.”

“I’m just sayin’ that it all sounds flirty to me.”

“Remind me to not tell Jana anything anymore,” you said.

He gives you a half smile, but says nothing else.

“It’s not like that. He’s Brish Mevins.” Brooks chuckles at the fake name you gave Chris. “Have you seen the girls he’s dated?”

Brooks shakes his head no, but picks up his phone and starts typing away. You put your hand over it, forcing it down.

“Neither have I, and I want to keep it that way. But I’m sure they’re gorgeous and probably all actresses. Besides, sometimes people just flirt. I do it too. It’s fun,” you replied.

“Think what you will, but be open to it,” Brooks says, taking his finger and tapping your nose.

“Dorks. That’s the only types of people I know.” Brooks scrunches up his face and gives you a smile. “Any way. Tell me what’s up and don’t say it’s nothing.”

He lets out a long breath but sits up straighter, his face instantly changing to one that’s excited. “I got a job offer,” he exclaims.

“A different one at the paper?” you asked.

He shakes his head no. “It’s with an online news organization. It’s still a sales position, but it’s better pay and I can work from anywhere.”

“Don’t leave me there by myself,” you pout. “You can’t buy me lunch if you’re at home.” Bottom lip sticking out.

“You’re hardly there by yourself. How often have I come to your desk and your busy chatting with the women around you?” he asked.

While you are extremely happy for your friend, damn, are you going to miss seeing him every day.

“Not the same.” You take a big breath in. “But I want the best for you. So, if you’re happy, I’ll be happy. The Cole family is certainly moving up. You with this new job and Jana making partner.”

Brooks throws a hand up. “Don’t jinx it. Nothing’s been announced yet.”

You copy his stance, adding your second hand in. “Fine. Fine. But it’s going to happen.”

 It’s media day at Walt Disney’s Hollywood Studios. The second attraction, Rise of the Resistance in Galaxy’s Edge is opening and you are quite excited. You hadn’t always loved the Star Wars franchise, not getting into the movies until your early twenties thanks to an old boyfriend who was pretty obsessed. This ride is supposed to be a huge deal and with very little revealed to the public thus far, you’re stoked.

There’s a big presentation by CEO Robert Iger with some surprise guests. Storm Troopers are roaming the currently empty stage while various members of the media prepare to go live once the presentation starts. A borrowed camera with a zoom lens from the paper rests in your hand. You also have your digital voice recorder ready to go. It would be easier to film the event and take stills from the video, but with a good number of YouTubers making up the event, you can always catch what you missed later that night.

Robert Iger walks on the stage while small pyrotechnics fire off from the back. Cheers all around. The buzz in the air is catchy and you find yourself fangirling more than anything. The special guests end up being Daisy Ridley and John Boyega as both actors play a part in the ride.

You’re given a return time to ride the attraction that day. Seeing that you have about an hour until your time slot, you peruse the shops selling various themed wares. Even the bottles of Coke products are themed to match the land. You purchase an orbed shape bottle of Sprite and snap a selfie sending it off to Scott.

Scott: Sprite? You’re in Star Wars land and you get soda. Where’s the blue milk?

You laugh at his reply.

Y/N: Star Wars land? It’s called Galaxy’s Edge Grumpy.

Y/N: Have you tried the blue milk? I’ll stick with the pop thank you very much.

Scott: Pop?! What the fuck is pop?

Scott: How long have you lived in Florida. The word you’re looking for is soda.

Y/N: Whatever 🙄

 You snuck a selfie with a Storm Trooper and sent it to Chris. A few minutes later he was calling you.

“Hey babe,” you answered.

Yeah, your friendship had taken on another nickname. He called you sweetheart and you called him babe. The first time you said it to him you cringed. Like full body folded in half while you waited for a reaction. You didn’t mean to say it, but Chris took to calling you almost daily. He had a long break in his schedule and you had become part of his day. One day the word just slipped out. It felt natural. When he went on as if nothing happened, you relaxed. The nickname slipped out more and more as if that were his name.

“You’re killing me sweetheart! Are you there for the paper?” he asked.

“Yeah. Story will post tomorrow if you want to read it. I’m about to go on Rise of the Resistance in a few minutes.”

“Of course, I want to read it. Send me the link tomorrow. Gah! I’m jealous,” he whined.

You let out a giggle. “Get your butt to Orlando then. If you can’t swing the cost of a hotel, you can stay with me,” you replied.

“Uh-huh, okay, Sassy. I’ll let you know. Go enjoy your day smartass,” he said.

“You wouldn’t put up with me if you didn’t like it,” you teased.

“Need to stop talking to Scott. Apparently, he’s a bad influence on you,” Chris said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m going to head over to the line. I’ll call you later babe,” you said.

“Sounds good sweetheart. Bye,” Chris said ending the call.

Rise of the Resistance was not only visually stunning, but action packed. There were so many details that no doubt you could ride ten additional times and still not catch them all. The Sentinel was lucky to have a Disney enthusiast such as yourself on staff. Whenever there was a Disney Parks story needed, they knew yours would trump the competition. While you knew you were good at your job, you were also your worst critic and struggled to really put yourself out there. This is why you mainly worked on assignment with only writing a story of your choosing from time to time.

On your way out of the park, you purchased a Mickey Premium Ice Cream Bar. You took a bite out of one of the ears and snapped a selfie. The picture was quickly sent to Chris since he asked you to mail one to him a month again.

Y/N: I was going to mail this but he just looked so damn tempting.

Chris: I may not talk to you for a while. I think you understand why.

Y/N: I refuse to believe that. I’ll call you later.

Chris: We’ll see

What a baby.

 It was Christmas Eve and you were freezing cold in your mom’s house. The heat was on, but she liked to keep the thermostat set to sixty eight to keep the gas bill low. Living in Florida for fifteen years had thinned your blood. The one positive about being back in Minnesota in the winter besides seeing your family, were the cute winter clothes you could wear again. Despite the warmer temperatures all year round in Central Florida, clothing stores still sold tall boots and thick sweaters.

Dressed in a large cream cowl neck sweater, dark blue jeans, and fuzzy red and white stripped socks, you were still freezing. You pulled the green throw blanket up to your neck, wishing someone would hold your mug of hot cocoa spiked with Baileys up to your lips so you wouldn’t have to remove your hands from under your blanket.

“When did you turn into such a baby?” Heath, your younger brother asked.

Like a true baby, you stuck your tongue out at him. He smirked but shook his head at you before sitting down next to you on the couch. Your mom and her sisters are in the kitchen, fussing with dinner, but mostly drinking wine. The “kids” who are all in their late twenties and thirties include your cousins Jenny, Rebecca, Tony, and Nick and his wife Avery, as well as yourself and Heath.

You brother reaches forward and grabs your mug off the coffee table, taking a sip before passing it to you.

“This is weak,” he said.

“Not all of us need a splash of cocoa in our Baileys,” you replied.

“When’s the last time we all got drunk together?” Jenny asked.

“Not since Nick’s wedding and that was like ten years ago,” Rebecca replies.

“Count us out, we got the kids watching TV in basement and need to get home tonight,” Avery said.

Nick frowns causing you to chuckle.

“I’m game, but I don’t want to get Baileys drunk. What else do we have?” you asked.

Heath got up and walked into the kitchen, politely smiling at your mother before opening a cabinet. It was taking some effort as he was trying to reach the back of the cupboard. A few seconds later he walked back into the living room with his hands behind his back. Like a magician unveiling his trick, he pulls the bottle from behind his back.

The group of you oohs at the green bottle of Jägermeister.

“We’re going to be so sick,” Rebecca said.

“On Christmas,” you add. “Why does mom have a bottle of Jägermeister?

Fuck. Mom is going to be so mad at us.

“It’s mine from like five years ago. I left it here and forgot all about it,” Heath chuckles.

“Do we have shot glasses?” Jenny asked.

“Doubt it,” Heath said.

“But we do have Dixie cups in the bathroom.” Tony said, getting up from his seat and moving into the bathroom.

Heath grabbed his phone and hit play on his nineties music playlist. It may be Christmas Eve, but this was really a get together with your family since you mainly only came home once a year. Even then, not everyone was able to get together every year.

With your first shot in hand, you snap a selfie. Best to do it now before I start to get sloppy.

Downing the shot with your brother and cousins, you grab your phone to fire off a text, attaching the picture to send Chris and then to Scott.

Y/N: Cheers to a Merry Christmas

Scott’s the first to reply as you finish your second shot.

Scott: Someone’s getting holly and jolly

You giggled at that causing your family to all send you a questioning look.

“These shots are already going straight to my head,” you said quickly.

“Drinking game!” Heath shouts. “Since we know the Christmas Story is on TV, anytime someone says Ralphie, we drink.”

“We are so getting wasted tonight,” Tony said.

“Mom,” you called out. She walked from the kitchen into the living room where you all were. “I think everyone but Nick and Avery are staying over.”

“You kids,” she sighs as she shakes her head walking away.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Chris had responded to your text.

Chris: God you’re adorable.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach with heat instantly rising to your cheeks. You hoped the alcohol you consumed was a good enough cover for the redness you were no doubt showing.

Your phone started to buzz in your hand repeatedly. You were so lost in your thoughts, you almost missed the call entirely.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” Chris said. His voice was a little rough, making you shiver.

“Hi Ba-Chris,” you said, almost slipping out the nickname in front of your family. Getting up quickly, you moved to your old bedroom for privacy.

“How’s your Christmas so far?” he asked.

“Really good. It’s like the first Christmas in maybe five years where all my cousins on my mom’s side could come,” you said. “We’re having a really good time.”

He chuckled. “I can see that. How many paper cups of alcohol have you had?”

“Only two. Probably a lot more to come,” you replied. “Besides, it’s warming me up. It’s like I get amnesia about the weather.”

“I bet. Too much sunshine. It’s cold here too,” Chris said.

“Are you and Scott in Boston?” you asked.

“Yep, for like the last week. Probably be here another couple of weeks. You should come to Boston,”

What?

You cleared your throat. “Like now?” you asked.

Chris chuckled again. Damn, if that laugh didn’t get you every time.

“Like in general.” He pauses for a moment. “You should come out sometime. Scott’s here a lot. I’m here a lot. It would be fun. Give ya the whole New England experience,” he said.

“You know, it’s cold in Massachusetts,” you chuckled out.

“It’s a good thing you look so cute in sweaters,” he said, seriousness in his voice.

Okay fine. I like Chris. I like him, like him. Fuck.

You’re rendered speechless. Yes, he’s flirty every once in a while, via text message, but hearing it over the phone is something else. It’s almost not fair that he can say those things but be a thousand miles away most days.

“Hello? Did I lose you sweetheart?” Chris asked.

“Sor…sorry. Yeah, I’ll think about it,” you stammered.

“Come in the fall. It’s beautiful in the fall and not too cold for you.”

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll work it out,” you replied.

“I’m holding you to it.” Chris said.

“Y/N? Where’d you go?” Rebecca called from the other room.

“Hey, Chris. I’m being summoned in the next room. M’sure I’m a few drinks behind by now,” you replied.

“Okay, sweetheart. Go have fun with your family,” he said.

“You too, babe. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied.

You were indeed late to the party as everyone was plenty tipsy by the time you walked back into the living room. Tony handing you a full paper cup before you could even sit down.

An hour later you had given up on drinking. You were at the point where you were just tipsy enough with zero percent chance of getting sick and that was plenty. You had a feeling your mom would be waking everyone up bright and early tomorrow.

You picked up your phone and sent Chris a text. Because having your phone while drunk was a great idea.

Y/N: We all want something beautiful

         Man, I wish I was beautiful

The two of you had a habit of sending song lyrics back and forth to each other. Since the nineties station was still playing on Heath’s phone, Mr. Jones seemed appropriate. And maybe the booze made you brave since the words had hidden meaning to your crush on Chris.

Chris: A little Counting Crows on Christmas?

Y/N: Why not? Sometimes Christmas makes you nostalgic for the 90s.

“One more shot. Come on. Just one more. You’re never home to get drunk with me anymore.” Heath sniggered.

“You are a bad influence on me,” you teased, poking him in his chest. “Fine. One more and that’s it.”

One more turned into three more and you were suddenly sloppy drunk. You said goodnight to everyone, after throwing them extra blankets and pillows you scrounged up from your bedroom.

Alone in your room, you couldn’t get your mind off of Chris. After calling you cute and inviting you to Boston, not to mention the flirty texts, it was all too much.

Y/N: I think yur so cutte

Y/N: so nice n sweet

Y/N: just derseve everything you evr want

Y/N: wish yo not so far away

Predictive text doesn’t catch everything apparently, but you’re pretty sure he would get what you were saying. Before you could type another devotion to Chris, your phone rang, causing you to drop it on your head.

“Motherfucker!” you exclaimed, rubbing your aching head.

The phone continued to ring regardless of your pain.

“Hello?” you groaned.

“So, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and say that you are trying to text my brother.” Scott said.

“Scott! Hi! I miss you!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Yeah. Miss you too Sassy. Sounds like someone’s a little drunk.”

You giggled. “You’re a little drunk!”

“Oh my god. I should be recording this call.” He murmured.

You laughed because that’s what you did when you drank. You weren’t sure why you were laughing, but Scott always put you in a good mood.

“Anyway. I’m going to call you tomorrow because you probably won’t remember this. I need you to put your phone away and go to sleep. Those text messages you thought you were sending to Chris, you actually sent to me,” he said.

You frowned, sticking out your bottom lip. “Can you show Chris? He needs to know,” you whined.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow sweetie. Now get some rest. Goodnight,” Scott said.

“Night Scott.”

 The next morning you groaned to the sounds of your mother banging pots and pans. You were pretty sure she was doing it on purpose. With every bang, it felt like your head was going to crack open. Taking a pillow from under your head, you put it over your face and prayed that you could fall back to sleep. But then you remembered something about telling Chris he was cute.

Oh no! He’s going to think I’m some sad, desperate girl.

You grabbed your phone, praying Chris didn’t reply. Maybe he’d ignore it and save you the embarrassment. But then you remembered Scott calling you.

“Thank god for Scott,” you mumbled.

Typing out a quick reply to Scott since he would now be considered your saving grace.

Y/N: Thank you for saving me from myself.

Scott: No problem Sassy. How are you feeling?

Y/N: Like death. Not drinking again, probably for years.

Scott: So dramatic.

Y/N: Merry Christmas Grumpy.

Scott: Merry Christmas Sassy.

You plugged your nearly dead phone in to charge and regrettably got out of bed since your mom continued to make way too much noise at nine in the morning. You took a shower, hoping it would make you feel more alive. Sadly, it did not.

After eating breakfast which consisted of pancakes since your mom took a little mercy on you, you crawled back into bed. Christmas dinner was being served at five, so you grabbed your phone to set an alarm for an or two, because you knew you would over sleep. As soon as you picked it up, you saw you had a text from Chris.

Chris: Merry Christmas sweetheart.

Chris Evans was going to be the death of you.

Chapter 5

Tag List: @mustangshelby04​ @bellaireland1981​ @carolina-thiell​ @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj​ @trynnabemultifandom​ @chrisevansforever-blog​ @kelbabyblue​ @broadwayandnetflix​ @kyjey​ @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like​ @daddieslittlefangirl​ @hista-girl​ @stankface​ @denisemarieangelina​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @whymalu​ @the-doctors-fallen-angel​ @mariswritingforfun​ @tessabb7​ @chrisevansfanfic​ @lakamaa12​ @thinkxlovexloud​ @nea90sweetie​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @ripvandrinkle​ @bitterstar88​ @andymi3ntus​ @zestygingergirl​ @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @linki-locks11​ @mywinterwolf​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989​ @impalaimages​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @rainbowkisses31​ @xostephanie​the

[midnightsnyx]

Nathan MacKinnon - Little Do You Know

pairing: nathan mackinnon/reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: new game - count how many commas i can put in a paragraph

my masterlist

Nathan MacKinnon

October

“You look like a puppy dog in love.” Cale says and I glare at him.

“I do not.”

“Dude, you’ve been drooling over him for the past two hours.” He grins but raises an eyebrow. “Y’know… he’s probably going to take one of those girls home.”

I let my eyes trail to where Nate is sitting at a table with some other guys from the team along with at least six girls.

Normally, I would at least be sitting at the table even though it was annoying watching girls latch on to Nate like leeches and him loving it. But, Cale is just able to legally drink at bars and I was given the task of taking care of him. While we started out sitting with the guys, two things caused us to leave.

One, I realized how bad an influence the guys were on Cale who really couldn’t hold his alcohol yet.

And two, it was annoying when all the girls decided to sit with them.

So I’d dragged Cale to a booth and made him drink a couple glasses of water and eat a bag of chips until he sobered down a little which was nice until I remembered he was even more annoying sober. He had been bothering me for the past fifteen minutes about how love struck I am looking at Nate.

He wasn’t wrong but pointing it out got under my skin.

“I don’t care.” I mutter but he just scoffs.

“Right. Call me when pigs fly and I will believe you.”

“Do you want me to send you home?” I snap and he slouches in his seat, cheeks turning red at the fact that I can indeed send him back to his apartment.

“Fine.” He mutters but his eyes widen and he nods towards where his teammates are sitting. I look and see Nate walking towards us. He’s way more than tipsy and grins when he looks at me.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah. Babysitting is awesome.” I grumble and Cale kicks my leg under the table.

Nate simply smiles and I can tell he doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm.

“I’m heading out.” He says, jerking his head towards the front door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

When I look towards the door, I see a girl waiting there and she gives me a satisfied smirk that I ignore. Before I left the table, she’d been glaring at me every time I spoke to Nate.

“Sure.” I mutter and when he leans down to kiss my cheek, I clear my throat and lean back in my seat so he kisses air. He almost tips over which is probably the highlight of my night.

“Have a nice night.” I tell him when he frowns at me. I don’t know if he gets the message or is just too drunk to care but he nods and leaves.

“I told you so.” Cale says and I sigh, standing up and motioning for him to follow me. I walk over to the table where the guys are and put on a fake smile.

“We’re heading out.” I tell them and pinch Cale’s cheeks. “It’s past his bedtime.”

They all laugh loudly but wave when we leave. The air is cold when it hits me but it’s better than how stuffy the bar was.

“Can I trust you to get home yourself?” I ask Cale because I need to go for a walk to relax and clear my mind.

“I’m not five.” He says but I call his cab for him anyway. When it arrives, he stops and looks at me before getting inside.

“You should really tell him.”

“I know.” I say and he gives me a tight smile.

“But you won’t.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I won’t.”

. . .

November

Nate invites me to lunch on a Saturday telling me he has some news and wants me to hear it from him first. I expect it to be something related to hockey or maybe about his family.

But it’s not.

He’s met someone and he wants me to meet her.

“She’s great. I think you’re really going to like her.” He says grinning and I don’t have the heart to act like an asshole just because I’ve had feelings for him for years but didn’t do anything about it. I can’t blame him for that.

So I force a smile and nod. “I’d love to meet her.”

. . .

Of fucking course.

Of course she has to be nice. She’s probably one of the nicest people I have ever met and I should hate her but I can’t.

Because she’s too fucking nice.

Her name is Julia and she’s a journalist.

And she treats me like we’ve been best friends for years.

She invites me shopping and dinners and she even invites me on a trip to Los Angeles which I politely turn down because what the hell. Who just invites someone on a trip to LA and offers to pay for everything?

Julia. That’s who.

. . .

Cale finds all this fucking hilarious.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with her.” He cackles. “I mean, this whole situation is insane.”

“She’s a good person, okay?” I snap.

“Who’s a good person?”

I jump when Nate and Julia walk in the room. Cale opens his mouth to say something but I slap my hand over his mouth.

“The girl who served us ice-cream today.” I say and Cale laughs but it’s muffled because I still have my hand over his mouth. I glare at him and he sticks his tongue out and licks my hand making me drop it.

“That’s gross.”

Julia giggles and I look to see her curled up on Nate’s lap. “You two would be a cute couple.” She says and I roll my eyes. I love Cale, but as a brother. I could never think of him as anymore than that.

“They’re like brother and sister.” Nate says stiffly and I look at him in surprise. He has an annoyed look on his face which is weird. He’s never reacted like this when I dated other guys.

“Yeah, I think I’d throw up if I had to kiss Y/N.” Cale says cheerfully and I throw a pillow at him.

“Oh, well we will have to set Y/N up on a date soon.” She says and nudges Nate. “One of your teammates, maybe?”

Nate’s gaze darkens. “Over my dead body.”

And just like that, my body goes cold. He’s staring at me but I lift my chin, refusing to let him try to make decisions on who I can date.

“I guess you’ll have to drop dead soon because you don’t have a say in who I’m allowed to date.” I snap, glaring at him. The room is suffocating with tension and I’m waiting for him to say something but Cale whistles and stands up, pulling me off the couch too.

“Well, this has been fun but I don’t think I can cover up a murder today.” He says and drags me out of the room. As we’re walking out the front door, I can hear Nate and Julia arguing.

And it feels like a victory.

. . .

December

Saturday or Sunday afternoons were always reserved for lunch with Nate if he wasn’t on a road trip. But since our argument or whatever you want to call it, we haven’t spoken.

I figured he was either still mad at me or was spending those afternoons with Julia instead but a week before Christmas, I got a text from her asking if we could get dinner together.

This took me by surprise because I hadn’t spoken to her since that day either. But I agree and we set the date for a Wednesday evening when I know Nate is on a road trip.

She’s typing away on her phone when I sit down. Her head raises and she smiles but it doesn’t quite touch her eyes.

“How are you?” She asks and I shrug.

“Not bad, all considering.” I say and she nods.

She looks nervous and I raise an eyebrow in question. She is making me nervous because she keeps opening and closing her mouth like she wants to say something but can’t.

After a minute, she sighs and looks at the table.

“I’m going to break up with Nate.”

Wait.

“What?” I ask, feeling completely shocked. When she invited me to dinner I was expecting us to catch up and maybe her saying something about the argument Nate and I had.

She shrugs. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me.”

“Nate does love you.” I say but she shakes her head.

“No. Nate loves you.”

I feel like someone punched me in the stomach and then threw me off a cliff when she says that. I want to say something. Deny her statement but I can’t.

“I think I’ve known for awhile, I just didn’t want to admit it.” Her hand shakes a little when she wipes a tear away. “He’s been miserable since the two of you stopped talking and nothing I do is making him feel better.” She laughs a little bitterly. “And I should hate you for that but I can’t. You’re too nice of a friend.”

“I felt the same when I met you.” I say.

She smiles sadly. “I know.”

I watch her stand up and put her coat on. “I truly hope you and Nate will be happy together.”

“We’re not…” I say but trail off. “Why do you think that?”

She shrugs. “I just have a feeling.”

. . .

Christmas Eve

Due to a blizzard and a canceled flight, I have to spend my Christmas Eve alone, in my apartment and in the dark because of a power outage.

Peachy.

It isn’t the worst Christmas Eve I’ve had because there have been quite a few that I would rather forget. It still sucks so as I lay on my living room floor and wallow in pity, I perk up when I hear the doorbell because the pizza guy is finally here. I grab my wallet and rush to the door, throwing it open without even checking the peephole and almost pass out when I come face to face with someone who’s not the pizza guy.

“Hey,” Nate says awkwardly. He’s holding a box of pizza in one hand and a flashlight in the other. “Um, the power is out so the pizza guy couldn’t ring and I still had my key so…”

I stand in the doorway like a dummy while he stands there looking stupidly hot. My mouth flops open and shut a few times like a fish before he clears his throat and nods.

“Can I come in?” He asks and the manners my mother drilled in my head as a teenager kick in. I step to the side and he brushes past me, kicking his shoes off and walking straight to the living room.

He’s been here a million times but there is something different now. There’s a tension in the room that’s never been there before.

He lays the pizza on the coffee table and sits on the layer of blankets and cushions I had spread out on the floor before he came. I haven’t moved from the spot I was standing and when he raises an eyebrow at me, I stiffly walk towards him.

“You can sit down. I don’t bite.” He jokes and I plop down beside him, missing how easy things used to be between us. When I look at him, he is staring at his phone screen but it’s locked.

“Julia broke up with me.” He says quietly.

“Why?” I ask and do my best not to give away that I already know.

“She knew I was in love with someone else.” He says and the look he gives me knocks the air out of my chest. He’s looking at me like I made the goddamn sun rise and it’s killing me.

“Oh?” I squeak. “Who?”

“I think you know.”

His eyes bore into mine and I know he’s not going to make any kind of move until I respond.

“Nate.” I say but he just raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You just got dumped.”

“Ouch?” he says and I wince because this isn’t how I planned for this conversation to go.

“You’re heartbroken.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“You should be.” I snap and stand up and his eyes follow me when I start pacing. “I don’t understand you - Julia was great for you and she was really nice-”

“but she wasn’t you.” He says, standing up and walking to me. Before I can push past him, he gathers my hands up in his much larger ones forcing me to stand still.

“Look, I’ve been an idiot and a jerk. I know that. I shouldn’t have used Julia to try and get over you or make you jealous.” he shakes his head and sighs. “and I know you would never do that because you’re such a better person than I am, and you deserve better than me but I want you, and I love you more than anything and if that makes me a selfish idiot, I don’t care.”

He looks nervous as he waits for my response but I don’t know what to say because how do I top that? How do I tell him that I’ve loved him, probably since the moment I met him.

I’ve never been great with words so instead, I stand up on the tips of toes and kiss him soundly. He kisses me back immediately and without hesitation; like he’s starving for air and I’m the only one who can give it to him.

We kiss for what could be minutes or hours, only coming up for air and when I finally pull away, the dopey grin on his face makes up for the past two months of heartbreak.

“I guess that answers my question.” He says and I blush. “But, I’d really like to hear-”

“I love you.” I tell him.

His smile lights up the room.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Nothing to Lose (1/2)

A/N: On the 9th day of Christmas, your true love broke up with you. Oh, Billy...whatever will I do with you, sir?! (This is not connected to ISY or Jigsaw.)

Word Count: 1,914 (g a s p - a short one?! ) 

Prompt from: anonymous 

“Woah there... have a little eggnog with your rum” 

“Ho-Ho-Hold on one minute there, Santa.” 

“Ho-Ho-Hold on one minute there, Santa!” Maria quipped from the living room as laughter led by her husband erupted among the last few guests to the annual Christmas Eve bash. Frank had no doubt been taking advantage of the mistletoe, the several beers he’d consumed loosening his inhibitions and getting him in the holiday spirit. How can they just… how do they act like things are normal when… Billy tipped the bottle, freely pouring a measure and a half of the amber liquid into his already spiked beverage. The clink of glass on glass as the spout knocked against the rim of his cup made him wince. He was much more drunk than he liked to be, and he was trying to act like he wasn’t as he continued to drown his latest regret. Squinting, he felt his forehead wrinkle up, deep creases of concentration cutting through his skin as he made an immense effort not to spill the Captain Morgan on Maria’s white carpet. Don’t fuck this up, too, asshole. He set the bottle back down on the folding table that had been set up as a drink station, licking his lips as he twisted the cap back on. Spinning it tight, he pinched his fingertip between the top and the strip of aluminum that was left over after the seal had been broken on the bottle. The jagged edge of the perforated piece bit into the pad of his finger just hard enough to cut him. Bringing it to his lips, he sucked the blood from the thin line that sliced through the print on his pointer finger, then rubbed it off on his dark jeans before gripping his glass with his other hand and knocking back a long swig. 

“Woah there…” A warm, honeyed  voice came from somewhere over his shoulder as the spiced rum burned all the way down his throat. “Have some eggnog with your rum there, Bill.” Maria came around from behind him, one hand on his back and a laugh lifting her voice as she smiled at him. Reaching for his glass, she wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it gently from his grasp. 

“Hey, what are you-” Billy mumbled, even as he let her take it away from him. It was the right call, and he knew it. It stopped being eggnog three rounds ago anyway.

Maria looked from his disheveled appearance- the way his eyes were struggling to find one thing to focus on, the red tint to his usually fair complexion, the few strands of hair that fell over his forehead that he hadn’t bothered to push back into place- to the contents of the glass that she’d just relieved him of. She frowned, tilting her head to the side as Frank’s booming laughter from the next room overpowered the festive music that had been playing all night. “Billy,” she set his glass down on the drink table among the empty liquor bottles and the ice bucket,containing mostly water now. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” 

Billy stared at the glass, watching as a bead of condensation dripped down the side of it, the way your tears had rolled down your cheek the last time he saw you. 

“Billy,” your voice sounded foriegn from the way that he’d hurt you, your bottom lip quivering like he knew you hated as salt streaks ran down your face. “Billy, what’s...why are you sayin’ that?” You took an uneven breath that knocked the air from his lungs.

His throat was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as his heart raged at his ribs. He ached to hold you, hating himself for what he was putting you through. It’s better this way. He looked through you, targeting the clock over your shoulder as he sucked enough saliva together to unstick his tongue. “I’m sayin’ I’m shippin’ out soon and I wanna leave this...you... here.” He swallowed again, preparing himself to look you in the eye as he continued, “I don’t wanna take you with me.” He shook his head, his coal black eyes set firmly on yours. The lights on your Christmas tree blinked on and off in the background, gifts that would remain unopened tucked beneath it. “Can’t bring any baggage with me,” he shrugged, the action actually causing him physical pain. 

You let out a burst of air that would have been a laugh had he not just broken your heart three days before Christmas and only two weeks before he was headed back overseas to one of World’s most dangerous places. “Is that what I am, Billy?” You asked, eyebrows arching high in disbelief as you tried to steady the involuntary sobs that were fighting to free themselves from your chest. “Just…” you raised one hand, letting it drop to your thigh. “Just baggage you can…” you wiped at your eye with the back of your hand, smearing your makeup off towards your temple. Billy had to stop himself from stepping closer and swiping the smudge away with his thumb as he’d done whenever he’d seen you cry before. “You want to leave me behind, Billy?” There was hardly anything left to your voice as you asked the question. 

“Billy?” Maria called his name again, placing both of her hands on his biceps and moving herself into his eyeline. He looked away from the glass to meet her concerned expression. Dropping her hands, she sighed. “Does this,” she cocked her head to the drink table, “have anything to do with the fact that you showed up alone tonight, when you told us that you’d be bringing-” 

“I had to, Maria,” he cut her off before she could say your name. She pressed her lips together, letting her shoulders fall. Billy sniffed, finally tucking the few loose strands of hair back into order. “I can’t…” he sighed, shaking his head as his eyebrows came together, clamping both hands behind his neck. “Goddamnit, Maria, how’do you...you’n Frankie, how’dyou…” How do you let each other go every time?  The door had opened and shut in the background as the last of the guests left the party. 

The music stopped mid song, and Frank appeared seconds later, one hand each on the backs of his half sleeping childrens’ heads. “Alright, I got your brother a cab because he was plastered, and-” He stopped, right hand jutting out to guide Junior away from the wall he was about to walk into. He looked over at Maria and Billy, his smile leaving his face from the eyes down. “Everything good in here, Bill?” 

Maria looked up at Billy sympathetically before reaching forward to squeeze his hand. She turned to her husband and gave him a small smile, letting go of Billy’s palm. “Why don’t I get these two sleepy heads off to bed?” She crossed the room to kiss Frank on the cheek before he turned his head to press his lips to hers, noses touching as he pulled away with a nod. “Okay,” Maria said softly, taking Lisa and Junior under each arm and leading them to their bedrooms. 

Frank walked over to his friend, grabbing an empty glass from the drink table and pouring himself a drink. He passed the glass that Maria had confiscated back to Billy, tapping his against it as soon as Billy had a firm enough grasp on it. Both men took a drink, Billy coming up a few seconds later as he drained the remainder of his glass. He coughed as Frank took another smaller sip. “You gonna talk or should I guess?” Frank finally asked as Billy contemplated the bottom of his now empty glass. Frank clicked his tongue. “Okay, I’ll guess.” He said your name, and Billy’s eyes snapped up. “Uh huh. Thought so. So,” Frank took another drink, leaning against the doorframe separating the kitchen and dining room. Billy pulled a chair out from clunky set in the middle of the room and sat, hanging his head between his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. “You broke up with her, didn’t you?” 

Billy nodded without looking up from the floor. He’d tried to keep it together for most of the night, making jokes and brushing off your absence from the party everytime one of his and Frank’s buddies asked where you were. He passed out the few gifts he’d gotten the Castle family with a forced smile on his face, knowing that he would have been lost had it not been for your help picking out the perfect presents. But as the night wore on he found it harder and harder to accept the fact that he wanted nothing more than to have you there, and that he was the only reason that you weren’t. It’s for the best...isn’t it? He tore his eyes from the grain in the hardwood and looked up at his brother. “I had to, Frankie, I…” he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how to…”

“She loves you, Bill.” Billy sucked in a breath. Neither of you had used that word, but he’d felt it in the way you looked at him, the way you listened to him, the way you always wanted to be near him. Frank put his glass down and crossed his arms over his chest, nodding at the stunned way that Billy’s mouth had fallen open. “Yeah. Don’t ask me why or how,” he said. “It’s the same with Maria, you know?” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “It’s just… there, yeah?” 

Yeah. But I fucking…I… “How do you...how do you know it’s enough, Frank?” He asked, finally able to put it into words. “How do you know it’s strong enough...all the shit we do...the shit we get done to us…” He winced, recalling the time he took a nasty shot to the abdomen, one of the only lucid thoughts he could remember having being a thankfulness that he wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind had he died in the desert that night. But now… Now he did have someone to leave behind, and he was trying to make the choice before it could be made for him. Better she hate me than mourn me. 

Frank tipped his chin in Billy’s direction. “‘Cause look at yourself without her, Bill.” He let out a burst of air. “You’re a goddamn mess, Russo.” 

Billy couldn’t argue there. He’d been living with a dull hum in his head since he left you crying in front of your Christmas tree two days ago. 

“Look,” Frank relaxed his stance, uncrossing his arms and changing his tone. “I know you’ve had it rough, Bill. Rougher than most.” Frank was one of the smallest groups of people on Earth- the people that Billy talked about his past with. So small, in fact, that the only other member was you. “Don’t make it even harder on yourself. When good things fall in your lap, don’t chase ‘em away.” 

“Too late,” he mumbled, blinking at the floor again. 

“I dunno,” Frank shrugged and checked his watch. “Ain’t midnight yet. Still Christmas Eve… What’dya got to lose?” 

Billy stood suddenly, the room spinning only slightly as he did. He had no idea if you were home, or if you’d open the door if you were, or if anything he could say to you would fix what he’d done. 

But he knew he had to try.

.

.

.

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[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Finn "You need to take your shirt off"

I love this adorable, awkward, sexy boy. I sorta rely on some archetypes for this one, but I hope it turned out to your liking, dear Anon 💕

Warning: Smut below the cut

* * * * *

Tobey’s Christmas parties at the garage always got a little wild; everyone drank too much, talked too much, danced too much, and by the end of the night, no one ever went home alone. To be fair, there were only a few times out of the year that the guys really let loose and this was one of them.

As you walked through the garage, you looked at the Christmas lights that were haphazardly slung over everything, some blinking and white and some multicolored with big bulbs like the ones from your childhood. The garage looked pretty in its own way.

It had been a few years since you’d left town and coming home for the holidays was always something of a quandary. It was nice to see old friends and your family, but your life was far from there now and you started to miss what you considered to be your real home earlier and earlier each year.

You did laugh, though, as you walked by the enthusiastic game of Rock Band that was taking place and after watching for a few minutes, you went to the keg to refill your cup. You hadn’t taken more than a sip when you turned around and collided with a body, spilling your drink all down the front of their shirt.

“Oh! Oh god! I am so sorry. Fuck me,” you cursed, angry that you couldn’t even go one night without falling victim to your own klutziness.

“It’s cool,” a familiar voice said, causing your mouth to pop open and your hand to stop swiping at the soaked front of his shirt.

You blinked a few times before slowly saying, “Finn?”

“Hi, Y/N. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi. You, uh, look different,” you said, taking in the way his beer-drenched shirt clung to the muscles of his chest and the way he looked you right in the eyes, letting you see just how brilliantly alert and beautiful they were.

“Maybe because it looks like I’ve been in a wet t-shirt contest?”

“Fuck again—come on. You need to take your shirt off,” you said before groaning, realizing how awkward that sounded.

“I mean, we need to get you a new shirt. I swear I’m not drunk,” you said laughing and Finn chuckled, too.

“My brother’s hoodie is in the back of his car. Come on,” you said, tossing your empty cup in the nearly full trash as you led Finn to where the cars were parked.

“So, are you just in town for the holidays?” Finn asked as you opened the door to the backseat and dug around for the hoodie.

“Yeah—can’t decide if I’m feeling nostalgic or if I’m feeling homesick for, ya know, my actual home.”

“Can’t relate. I never thought about leaving.”

“I know,” you said a little sadly. “I hear you got a degree in Computer Science, though.”

“I did. You keepin’ tabs on me?” he said, a smirk on his lips as you straightened and proffered the hoodie.

“Just small-town talk. Everyone knows everything about everybody,” you stated casually while eyeing Finn’s body.  

“See anything you like?” he asked, his hands on his hips, the hoodie still dangling at his side despite the cool, night air.

You bit your lip and took a step forward, reaching out to lightly tweak both of his hard nipples.

“You’re gonna catch a cold—wet skin and chilly night air. Dangerous combination.”

“I don’t feel cold,” he said moving his hands from his hips to yours, pushing you back against your brother’s car.

“Finn! Bro! Where you at?” came Benny’s drunken call.

“Fuck,” Finn hissed, his eyes scanning to find out what direction Benny’s voice came from.

“Come on,” he said grabbing your hand and pulling you through the maze of cars.

You giggled at the absurdity of the situation. Finn, still shirtless, leading you god knew where to do what you hoped to god he wanted to do because you sure as hell wanted to do it.

Finn’s car blinked in the distance and you dashed for it as Benny’s voice continued to bellow out into the night. Finn opened the back door and you slid in, laughing as he slid in beside you, now shivering.

“For fuck’s sake, Finn—you’re freezing!” you said as you forced the hoodie over his head. He laughed and pulled his arms through, the sweatshirt much too big for him.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a hug until he stopped shivering.

And once again, you were much too close, and you were looking into his brilliant blue-green eyes, overwhelmed by a desire to kiss him senseless.

“Do you remember that time we—”

“Yes.”

“And that time after the Sadie Hawkins dance?”

“Yes.”

You smirked and turned the table.

“Do you remember that time in the back of your car at Toby’s Christmas party?”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin, his teeth dazzling white even in the dark of the backseat of the car.

“I’m about to, aren’t I?”

“If you ever actually kiss me again—”

And that was all it took for Finn to close the distance at lightening speed, his lips pressed against yours, effectively cutting off anything else you might’ve said.  

You climbed into his lap as he scooted down low in the seat, his head resting against the deck so you didn’t have to bend at such an awkward angle. You thrust your hands into his hair, and the feeling of his soft curls wrapped around your fingers came rushing back to you.

And kissing Finn was even better—it was like coming home to something after you realized you really, really missed it. He tasted like the cheap beer from the keg, but you knew you did, too. But there was something else—something sweet and familiar that was just Finn.

Your tongues circled each other in a hot, sloppy kiss. Your lips taking turns closing and nipping until Finn sucked your tongue into his mouth, the sensation sending a flood of arousal to your core and making you desperate to get off.

“I want you,” you panted in his ear as you peppered kisses along his neck.

Finn took your hand from his face and pressed it into his hard length as an answer. You moaned and began to grasp him through his pants, remembering how good his cock felt in your hand and how even better it felt inside of you.

“Do you have something?”

“Glovebox.”

You twisted your body around and Finn took the opportunity to massage your ass as you half-crawled far enough into the passenger seat in order to open the glovebox and retrieve a condom.

“Still fucking girls in cars, huh?”

“Generally hoping to, yeah,” he said with a grin.

“It’s your lucky night,” you said, pulling his cock out of his pants and waving the condom. “Why don’t you suit up while I get the fuck out of these leggings because it is not going to be easy.”

Finn laughed as you struggled out of your pants, cursing and breathing heavy by the time you were bottomless and back in his lap.

“Just sign me up for the next Olympics.”

You both giggled until you slid your wet heat over Finn’s cock and then you both groaned, your eyes rolling back at how good it felt to have him fucking you again.

“I missed this,” you breathed.

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” he breathed back.

“Get me off, Finn—no one is ever as good with their fingers as you are.”

“With pleasure,” he said as he licked his thumb and then reached between your legs to start working your clit.

“Mmm,” you groaned, your eyes shut tight as you lost yourself in the sensation of his ministrations.

“Hey—let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours,” he said, calling you back to him.

“It’s too intimate,” you said your eyes ghosting over his before settling on a spot over his shoulder.

“And my dick inside of you is not?”

You shook your head no.

“Not acceptable,” Finn growled as he scooped you up and laid you flat on your back. You knew the position would be awkward as hell for him, but he didn’t seem to care. He tangled one hand in your hair so you had nowhere to look but at him. He returned to fingering your clit, but before he really applied pressure, he bent and kissed you, sweetly and far more purposefully than before.

“Did you mean it when you said you missed me?” he ground out as he steadily continued to fuck you.

“Yes,” you answered, your fingers digging into his biceps.

“Then come with me,” Finn said as he began to work his fingers in earnest, somehow creating the perfect rhythm to his thrusts and to his strokes of your clit despite the awkward angle of your bodies in his backseat.

This time, you never took your eyes off his, letting him burrow deep into you as he built you up to a fantastic orgasm.

When you cried out his name and your walls clenched around his cock, he let go, too, bottoming out before he stilled.

“Fuck, Y/N. Fuck yes.”

He dropped his gaze and rested his head on your shoulder, catching his breath. The windows were fogged and anyone who walked by would know what was going on and for once, you didn’t care. It was Finn, and he was sweet, funny, and sexy. Any girl would be lucky to say she’d been the one fogging up his backseat.

But maybe not a girl with an overprotective brother.

“FINN! IF YOU ARE FUCKING MY SISTER I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS UNTIL NEW YEAR’S!”

Each word of your brother’s threat was punctuated by a loud bang on the window most near Finn’s bare ass.

He reached between you to hold on to the condom until he pulled out, grimacing as he had to just fling it to the floor so he could pull up his pants.

“There’s no way in hell I’m getting back into those leggings,” you said laughing.

Finn’s face was horrorstruck.

“FINN! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!”

“You better just drive,” you said with a smirk, and Finn began to laugh as he scrambled into the driver’s seat, your brother’s face appearing in the window, visible to you but he couldn’t really see inside thanks to the tint.

You were laughing now, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as Finn started the car and put it in reverse, your brother banging on the side as he pulled away. You were mostly into your leggings now since you had the entirety of the back seat to stretch out to wriggle into them.

Once you finally got them pulled up, you climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up.

“Your place?”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not taking you back to your parents’ place. Your brother is finally going to kick my ass.”

“He won’t—he’s just trying to maintain his rep as an ogre.”

“But he’s still the size of one!”

“And I’m a grownass woman who can fuck whomever she pleases.”

“Whomever?”

“You, Finn. I want to fuck you. Again.”

“Just checkin’,” he said with a wicked grin as he sped up as the highway straightened. He reached over and linked his hand with yours, his other hand tight on the steering wheel as he drove toward the dawning sun.

[altscige]

『MADELYN CLINE ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like SAIGE BEAUMONT is here for HER JUNIOR year as a LINGUISTICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be BLITHE, ENERGETIC, EVASIVE & IRRATIONAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hi sorry this took so long i ws on hiatus bt turns out thts exactly how long i need to churn out these new blogs so BJKSADNKFJG also r i p babe bt i miss saige ... she’s an old muse of mine n she’s rly grand i think pls love her ok thank u pls LIKE this if u’d like to plot

TW CHILD ABUSE, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, ADDICTION, DEATH, HIT & RUN CAR ACCIDENTS, GRIEF, GUILT

aesthetics.

stick n’ pokes at 2am – when your drunk and giggling too much in between purposeful stabs, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk because they’re bad luck and they’ll break your mother’s back – even if your mother doesn’t love you, because you love her, the familiar riff in an old song – one that’s got you strumming along silently; there is no guitar, only empty air lit by the christmas lights you haven’t taken down. it’s may. swallowing down shots, and by default, swallowing down problems. laughing quick, easily, constantly. skinned knees from skateboarding, despite being rubbish at it. wishes on eyelashes stuck to your cheekbones, glitter sticking, running into the ocean at sunrise; feeling at home. excuses, and the many forms they come in. telling people you love them through hand squeezes and fresh muffins, sideways glances and soft, eager grins.

basic info.

full name: saige alouette beaumont

nickname(s): n/a :/ give her some

b.o.d. - july 7th, cancer

label(s): the hedonist, the icarcian, the reveler, etc.

height: 5′7″

hometown: thibodaux, louisiana

sexuality: bisexual w/ a very slight preference towards masc-presenting folks

pinterest

stats

inspired by: serena van der woodsen (gossip girl), aimee gibbs (sex education), alexis rose (schitt’s creek), elle woods (legally blonde), rapunzel (tangled), clementine (eternal sunshine of a spotless mind), angela montenegro (bones), tinkerbell (peter pan), late 2000 / early 2010s kesha... i don’t know because she’s not actually inspired by anybody i made her when i was like 13 HDSJBKFNGHJLDS

biography.

the fallible daughter of two very infallible people: robert beaumont, US lieutenant general (soon to be US general), and manon lévesque, world renowned fashion designer on levels par with gucci and versace. both cold, calculating, and purposeful.

no matter how much she wants to believe otherwise, saige is sure that she was not created out of love. it was an action with a purpose, intentions to create the perfect child. the hybrid of both military genius and fashion extraordinaire. a proper socialite. a 1% citizen. molded to their will.

born in thibodaux, louisiana (surrounded by her father’s family - a long line of old money southern magnates & moguls with a history of beauty pageant winners in each woman) - it took them no more than six months after her birth for her parents to up and move, thus beginning a cycle of packing and unpacking, flying and driving, state-to-state and country-to-country. the longest saige had ever stayed in one place was two years, until radcliffe. even then - conditioned to never become truly attached to a place, she has the urge to up and run away at any given moment, onto the next adventure.

she was kept on a short leash, home-schooled, and learning skills she had no interest in (from cooking to sewing to ballroom dancing - to fencing and firearm safety and self defense) - more like a pet, a project, than a child. the world moved all around her, but she was bound to what her parents allowed her to see. a bird in a cage of thorns.

it was hard to keep and maintain friends - there one day, gone the next. a ghost you could see, clear as day, but never touch - never fully, at least. even if she tried with all her might. 

would run from bodyguards (their version of nannies - robert beaumont is a paranoid man with too many enemies to count) into festival crowds and climb out of windows in the middle of the night to swim in lakes with the locals she’d met only hours earlier - as soon as she realized that there was something wrong with the way she lived.

even if it resulted in punishment, military exercises in the form of her own personal boot camp (she’d been forced to do chin-ups, once, when she ripped an expensive gown at the tender age of seven. not since, however, after she wound up sobbing on the floor - instead they moved on. delicate teacups stacked across her back as she did push-ups, the more she did the more that slipped & broke)

she absorbed as she could, as much as she could get; an intense, undying love for a world she always craved to see.

this was the start of something dangerous - a phase that never seemed to end, rebellion coursing through her veins. a wild child in the making, unknowing of limits. she landed herself in any crowd she could squeeze into - bad crowds, in particular and more often than not - they introduced her, the sheltered girl, into a world she hadn’t quite known existed until then.

ran away briefly at the age of fifteen with a man three years older than her & nearly ended up in a tabloid magazine because of it - if it hadn’t been for her parents’ money. though guilt from her parents’ disappointment weighed on her, the thrill fueled something much worse.

from there on, she’d been labeled as a ‘problem child’ - from public intoxication to vandalism, it was clear their daughter was unraveling and nothing could possibly contain her.

boarding school had been an attempt to stop it, enrolled her freshmen year in hopes that she’d come out a proper woman. but being located in new york with easy access to the upper east side of manhattan - it’d been futile.

there’d only been a few significant events during her time there - the death of a classmate (one of her closest friends’ boyfriends) and a ski trip that nearly resulted in her own death, skiing while drunk on a closed off course, in memory of him and the traditions they’d had. the first time she fell in love, and months of pining - running in circles, fights and hiccups and confessions in the dramatic manner all high school relationships seem to be like. they’d finally gotten together - officially, no more sneaking around or pretending - when her parents paid a surprise visit. a rare occasion, nerve-wracking. dangerous. to keep a story short - she’d accidentally exposed her own drug use in their presence, the simple act of pills falling from a purse - and that’d been it. she was gone the next day, with no word to anybody and hardly a word since.

they told family she needed a change of pace, and rumors in her old school said that she’d been expelled, that she’d been sent to the french countryside to live with her grandmother.

she’d only gone to washington, that was all. france was too good, and she was too undeserving. instead she was enrolled in public school, only a quarter through her junior year. her parents rarely spoke to her - rarely in town, the only eyes kept on her were security cameras and the occasional check-in by family friends (the new word for bodyguards, apparently)

but as always - when left alone, saige scrambled to find somewhere she fit, somewhere to tuck herself away in the comfort of other people. a small group, but a loyal group - harmless minus a few miscellaneous charges that they said every small town kid had, at some point. they were safe, they were family - as close as she could get. at least, she had thought so. had really believed it.

she hadn’t intended to go to university after graduating high school, not yet eighteen - not for another month or two, at least. she wanted to travel, meet new people and learn new languages (she’d learned four, already, but had always been a glutton. craved to know more, as if she unlocked secrets with every phrase she could speak) and just. exist.

maybe she should’ve. should’ve left as quick as possible, and never turn back.

saige mysteriously disappeared from the public eye for an entire year, the entirety of her 18th year on earth, before promptly showing up at radcliffe university, ready to learn.

it’d been a year of legal cases & lawsuits & avoiding prison with expensive lawyers and a lot of money.

the getaway driver for an armed robbery at a bank, an unknowing accomplice until her supposed friend ran out from the building and jumped in her car, screaming for her to drive, drive, drive. it had only supposed to have been a quick stop before a road trip to the coast. nobody was supposed to get hurt. but scared, and high, saige had obeyed - and by doing so, led a police chase and, of course, a hit & run that eventually led to saige crashing the car midst breakdown.

the sole victim survived, thankfully - and the beaumonts have been paying the medical bills since. her friend - the one who started it all - was charged & sentenced. but saige got off relatively scot-free. just a year of community service, a slap on the wrist (and the growing wallets of all involved in handling her case). it would’ve made national news if her parents hadn’t stepped in - favors called, resulting in only local headlines.

they hadn’t spoken to her since then. three years of radio silence. she’d think they were dead if it hadn’t been the steady flow of money in her bank account. their silence only feels like a threat of what’s to come if she fucks up again.

ever since - she’s avoided causing too much trouble, still very much the party girl she’d like to be, but staying out of headlines and tabloids. partially in fear of her parents finally cutting ties, permanently, and partially in fear that she’ll end up costing someone else their life with her own selfishness.

personality.

she is so ... bubbly. so fucking bubbly. she’s has so much energy in her. goes running every morning and every night and swims almost every afternoon and she’s never tired, even if she hasn’t slept the last night and even if she’s been dancing for five hours in a club in high heels and nothing but vodka in her system. the personification of a coke bottle shaken up, if the coke bottle in question could laugh and smile at you and make you feel, somehow, at home even though you’d only met her in the bathroom queue.

tries her hardest to be the happy fun friend, the cool friend, the one who can hook you up with whatever you need because she sleeps with her drug dealer and gets discounts, but like, it’s totally okay because they’re also friends.

generally comes off as very confident of herself, and fearless, and reckless but like - fun reckless. the kind of reckless you wouldn’t mind to be around because she takes your worries and acknowledges them and reassures you that it’s fine, that it’s grand, even when it may definitely not be.

takes a lot. so much. could ramble for days, hand gestures and all. never stops talking. never.

if she wants to do something, she’ll do it and there’s not very much you can do to stop her. stubborn, but at the same time easy going? very go go go. mischievous. even if she’s trying to do something stupid you kind of just like ... have to let her do it, or otherwise she’ll mope for three hours and pout at you and then you’ll feel questionably guilty, which is admittedly a little manipulative on her end and isn’t the best thing, but i never said she’s the best person ever because she’s most certainly ... not.

a vegetarian because meat makes her physically sick, like, she’s got a weird intolerance to it and it’s not quite an allergy because it’s really just red meats but she’ll get a tummy ache.

her vocabulary consists of a lot of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’ and ‘yknows’, y’know? her statements always sound like questions. 

99% sure she has adhd but she’s never been diagnosed because her parents simply would not allow her to go to therapy so if she does have any neurological disorders, mental illness, and the likes of those - she doesn’t know and doesn’t know where to even begin to find out. her parents? fucking suck.

like i said, she’s currently not on speaking terms with them. more of their decision than hers. she still loves them, a lot - and there’s a part of her that believes that they still love her, that they have to, because she’s not disowned yet. even though they haven’t said more than ten words to her since she was eighteen - as long as they keep sending her money, they still care - right?

owns four cars ... bad idea considering her past, but alas. spending her money is a coping mechanism and she likes to drive because it’s a form of freedom. anyways. all her cars are on campus and she’s probably not allowed to have them all on campus but she does. one’s a sleek sports car, the other is a jacked up pick-up truck that’s decked out in like ... LED lights and shit, the third one is the same exact fucking mustang from the princess diaries because she’s obsessed with the movie & usually gets what she wants. the fourth is a mini cooper.

she’s a photographer (for funsies) and the walls of her room in noland are covered in photographs and art and taped-down plants. her room in general is really cluttered. like, it’s super homey. super cozy. but it’s a mess. clothes everywhere, she’s got a pile of instruments and other miscellaneous hobbies that she wanted to do and then either never did, or did for a few days and got bored of and haven’t touched since. 

i mentioned earlier that she was taught a bunch of skills when growing up - and like, she doesn’t really utilize any of them? knitting, sewing, cookie, three different forms of ballroom dancing - all gone to waste and she’s pretty rusty on most of it, but it’s there. in her mind. it’s kind of neat and i promise she’s not a mary sue it’s just her upbringing HBSJKDFNLG she’s really nuanced i swear. anyways she can also work a gun and a car engine but hates half of the things she knows how to do because she was forced to learn these things.

she plays bass guitar. loves it, loves her guitar. treasured item. she knows violin & piano too but she fucking hates piano & is mostly indifferent towards violin. she can hold a note in other instruments but it’s like. not great. 

got really into languages at a young age due to her constant traveling and started learning them unprompted. her mother is like. literally french. a french citizen. so she grew up learning english & french but from there on she’s gotten fluent in spanish (similar 2 french) and latin (dead languages are fun) and then she’s working on a few others like mandarin and german and scottish gaelic specifically but she mostly just knows a few phrases here and there. like, enough to get her through a city if needed.

like she’s super smart and very talented but she’s also ditzy as hell. big dumbass energy to the point where maybe you don’t realize that she’s actually really good at a lot of things because it’s not like she really flaunts it either?

she’s just very reckless, and very much a party girl. has quite the collection of drugs & uses socially, but also alone and throughout the day. rarely sober.

high functioning alcoholic and at this point she doesn’t really know what she’s like when she’s completely sober? which is really bad but she’s convinced that if she goes sober she’ll just be miserable and horrible because at her very core she believes she’s like. the worst human being alive. like very deep issues of self loathing covered by baileys in her morning coffee and 23 crystal lite packets in her yeti cup that happens to be filled with vodka. 

this has been a budding problem that was developed since she was a young teenager. the ehem. situation that happened when she was eighteen only amplified it.

is essentially wearing a mask of confidence and giddiness and flirtatiousness because she doesn’t want people to think she’s not doing well, because she isn’t. 

loves so much. loves everything, so much. everything, everybody. falls in love like five times a day but nothing really sticks to her either, for the most part. i hate to say it but she does flock to shitty people / general assholes because that’s just ... how she is, that’s what she’s surrounded herself with her entire life. even her high school boyfriend was an asshole - just like, not to her, which made it Okay in her mind. she finds these kind of people like ... super interesting which is really questionable but y’know what? we’re fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.

she sleeps around often, to be frank. she hates being alone and she rarely sleeps in her own dorm unless someone is in there sleeping with her. otherwise she’s at different houses. could be a friend’s bed, could be a stranger’s. has slept with the entire baseball team, probably. she’s also the type of person who’ll try and maintain a positive, good friendship with whoever she sleeps with because she hates the idea of having a regrettable encounter and just. refuses.

this is kind of a problem because she blurs the lines between friendship and Something More too often, and with too many people. wants to be loved but it’s never enough. probably ends up hurting people without realizing it because they think they have something super special but she does this with a lot of people and it’s super :/

does stick and pokes a whole bunch. she can’t draw for shit so they’re not great but she thinks they’re fun and she’s been doing it for a while so like, who cares, right? let her give you one :)

gets sent dress prototypes and like. drafts of designs & articles of clothing from her fashion lines that aren’t out yet and won’t be for a while by her very own mother. saige absolutely gives them all away, for the most part. or it sits in her closet, and stays there. her go-to gift for birthday presents, or christmas gifts, or whenever she feels like it. like, feel free to raid her closet?

ok that’s all. love her.

wanted connections.

a best friend... someone who sticks by her side even though she is a certified Mess.

a ride or die... is it the same as a best friend? maybe. but it’s got a fancy name and i want both so :)

close friends... she’s really friendly and the kind of girl to have been really popular in high school but didn’t care for it and talks to everybody like she’s known them her entire life, so. she’d have a good amount of these!

grumpy friend... to balance her happy friend. she’ll fuck them up in a friendship way. with her cheerfulness.

party pals... they don’t talk much outside of parties but they’re practically glued to the hip when they’re at them. hold your hair back kind of close.

frenemies... or fake friends, toxic friends, people who use her for money or like ... sex, or whatever? anything? people who barely tolerate her because she gives them stuff sometimes.

bad influences... they just encourage her to do more, be worse, never get better.

good influences... like ... YOINK! stop being an idiot! do your homework! idot!

a tutor... because she’s like...smart...but she’s also stupid...super bad at math & science. help her.

hook ups... friends with benefits, a one night stand that is a little? awkward? since then. past & present tenses. :)

exes... she’s noncommittal so they likely wouldn’t have lasted very long but? yolo? she can be a heartbreaker, as marina said, as a treat? whether they dated or were fucking ... either works. but i do love angst :)

one-sided hatred... someone who just fucking ... despises her. but she doesn’t realize because she’s an idiot and thinks they’re just like. joking around! like they’re best buddies!

annoyance... but she’s the annoyance. she’s the thorn in their side. 

ex-best friend... where something happened between them, like, anything, and it ruined their friendship forever. very sad. angst potential, though.

but like. i’ll take anything.

steals your mail... who knows why?

cat escape... he keeps running away and she keeps letting him inside her room even though she’s allergic...

married old couple... the kind of friendship where they always bicker like they’ve been together for fifty years, but it’s purely platonic (or is it? slowburn BAYBEY. DENIAL babyey.)

off and on again... i think that one that’s not good for them because they enable each other & only get like ... angry at each other, and it’s like, messy. but it’s super hard to stop. probably reminds her of high school so that’s why she tries so hard to stick around, but alas. it’s not good. it’s toxic. stop it. 

the drug dealer... the one she sleeps with... even though she can just pay for it because she’s rich but like. it’s funner this way.

blurred status... like, it’s just really confusing of what they are? are they, aren’t they? the relationship status is just ... muddled. she’s a mess and gets involved with too many people without intending to. potential to hurt feelings. :)

please. take her. give me connections.