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stayevildarling · 3 years

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Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right - Pt 1

Part 2, Part 3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: This story is kind of an AU. Reader meets Venable when Wilhemina is light Mina (orange hair, adorable, cute, friendly) and they get together. One day Wilhemina breaks it off suddenly and they only reunite years later but Reader is met with a much darker version (dark Mina).

Also, this used to be on my Wattpad but I decided to completely rewrite it and add multiple parts

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @rainbow-hedgehog, @mrsdeanhoward, @alexajbitar, @in-cordelias-coven, @kenzbro, @loverofallthingssarah, @twistedpoeticjustice, @billiebeanhoward, @minaslittleone, @lilypadscoven, @vintagepaulson, @ninaahs, @whitelotus00, @httpfiftyshadesofgay

-Flashback-

''Are you serious right now after all we have been through?'' you try hard not to scream but it feels like your body is on fire, your lungs are burning, heart racing and your eyes watering. You cannot believe you are having this conversation with your girlfriend Wilhemina right now. After a whole year of knowing each other and eventually giving the relationship a go she is talking about moving on.

'It's for the best'' is all she said in return and then she walked out, cane in her hand hitting the floor hard and not once did she look back, she ignored your cries, you begging her to stay and please turn back around. You keep repeating this is a nightmare and you are gonna wake up any minute to her holding you in her arms. But it was no nightmare and she did walk out of your shared apartment and ever since that day you have tried to move on. But no matter what you did working, moving out of the apartment, meeting friends, getting to know new people it didn't work, Wilhemina was always on your mind, when you are asleep she would visit in your dreams, when you are driving or outside and a song plays, she is there in your memory as if she never left in the first place.

-End of Flashback-

Even right now as you are walking through the streets on your lunch break, coffee in your hand and earphones in your ears listening to music she is here again.

''I never needed you like I do right now....I never hated you like I do right now'' as you hear those lyrics your heart skips a beat and it feels like it is breaking all over again. You tried everything you could think of, start a new job in a new field, you moved to a new city but nothing seems to be able to take your mind off the redhead, clouding your mind, her touch still so present lingering on your skin, her voice still ringing through your ears and the smell of lavender following you wherever you go.

Currently, you are working for a company in California, in the social media department and to promote the brand and their work. It's mostly boring but you do enjoy social media and advertisement so you gladly took the job considering it comes with a higher paycheck and a brand new apartment. There was nothing left in your old city, no friends anymore because you drove them all away as they always talked badly about your ex-girlfriend and the feelings you still have for her. No family because you were kind of always on your own and after quitting your job there, there was nothing holding you back. The woman with red-orange hair and a purple obsession is currently on your mind again and no matter what you do she is stuck in your head, like a catchy record and it hurts. As you think about her a wave of flashbacks hit you, with no way of putting a stop to it and keeping the storm at bay.

''Wilhemina Venable, nice to meet you'' was the first few words that you ever heard her say and for a moment you were so struck that you couldn't even say anything. ''Cat got your tongue hmm?'' was what she said afterward and what got you to snap out of it, introduce yourself, and shake her hand. And when you touched her for the first time you knew you would never ever get tired of feeling her soft hands.

You would also never grow tired of looking into her beautiful brown eyes or the soft smile she would give you whenever she would see you. Back then you just finished college and you took your first job and she was your co-worker. Starting a relationship with a co-worker is sometimes frowned upon and there probably are good reasons for that but you didn't listen, not to your friends telling you not to do it and not to the other co-workers after they noticed the glances you and Wilhemina exchanged at work. But you both never let that stop you and you fell for her and you fell hard.

Although you had some crushes before, mostly on teachers in college or celebrities, you never had been in a relationship before. Every morning before work you would get up so early and make sure to put your best clothes on, you would improve your makeup skills and try different hairstyles to impress Wilhemina and you did. She would notice how often you would come around to her desk and ask her silly questions you both knew the answers to but you pretend you didn't. And eventually, she took all of her confidence and asked you out and that night was the most magical night of your life.

You went to an expensive restaurant and after she took you home and she gave you something that night that was precious and you held onto it till today. Patience. She was your first love and she made sure to not rush, to not hurt you, to be there for you and hold you whenever you needed her. After your first date, you went on some more magical nights together, before you were ready to allow her to love you and to love her in return and she made you feel things you never felt before. She would make your whole body feel beautiful and worthy, all your insecurities left whenever you were around the woman who had many insecurities herself due to her back. And that's probably what you admire most about her, the way she made you feel whenever you were with her.

Thinking about all this, you think back to the many dates you both went on, to restaurants, shopping, the movies, car dates, attending work parties together, going to get drunk together. Life felt so easy with Wilhemina around, although she was a few years older than you she was pure, she was funny, soft, kind, precious and she was innocent. She would always treat people with respect and offer help and you loved her beautiful and kind personality. You never thought that one night after being with each other for almost a year she would randomly walk out of your life and not once turn back around or try and talk about it.

Hearing the lyrics repeat, you sigh and shake your head because it is true, one part of you needed Wilhemina back in your life because no matter what you do you can not get her out of your head or heart for that matter. Part of you does hate her for leaving and walking out, you never cried harder in your life than the night she left and you couldn't function for days. All you did was cry, toss and turn in the bed or curl up on the floor in a little ball until you couldn't cry anymore but the pain never stopped. It took days and in the end, your friends who picked you up again, taught you how to take care of yourself again by eating, showering, getting dressed, and going to work and you hoped that moving and changing jobs would change something.

As you are sitting in a park, only a few blocks away from your new workplace, watching people having picnics, playing with their kids, walking their dogs, or doing exercise you realize that all this wasn't worth it. Moving away, leaving your job, apartment and friends did nothing, you still miss her and she still haunts you. You miss her gentle side, the soft Mina as you used to call her, who would hold you in her arms, who would say soothing words until you would fall asleep, and who would make you feel better after a hard day at work, hold you after a nightmare or would let you ramble about another one of the co-workers annoying you. You miss telling her about your days and how you feel because you could be free with her and be who you are and you haven't been that way in a very long time.

Checking your phone you notice your lunch break is over in five minutes so you toss your empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walk back to your office. Today has been particularly boring because all you have to do is answer people's dm's and requests on social media because currently there is no campaign going on. As you walk back to your desk you put your coat and bag away and start logging onto your laptop. That's when you hear your boss on his way to your desk and you can't help but internally roll your eyes. He isn't a bad guy or anything, he is in his fifties, grey hair, always wearing a suit and he treats you with respect and you appreciate him but whenever he would approach you it means a problem, like an advertisement going wrong or a complaint or a new major client and that means longer hours and staying in the office till midnight. Not that you mind considering there is nothing or no one to come back home to.

''Y/N'' he says as he finally reaches your desk. Looking up from your desk, you force a smile and reply ''Yes Mr. Odell what can I do for you?''. By his posture, you can tell he is in some kind of distress.

''Listen we have a potential new client and I want you to come to our first meeting with them'' he says excitedly and you question why he can't just bring his assistant. ''I can't bring Janet she is sick so I need you to get your things'' he explains and you log off your computer, take your coat and bag and follow him outside the building. It is quite chilly, so you are glad that you put a jacket over your blazer.

As the familiar buildings and streets fade into the distance, you try not to zone out like you usually would but these days your mind would often be preoccupied with daydreams or memories as if someone else was entirely in control of your thoughts.

''I have a meeting with a Mr. Pfister and Mr. Nutter'' he says absent-mindedly while looking into his calendar and talking about the company you are headed to. Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod and mumble ''Of course Mr. Odell'' before averting your gaze back to the window looking at the hectic city and people going on about their days. Your thoughts wander back to work and you try to think of a few possibilities to advertise their products, as that might not be as easy as you originally thought when agreeing on accompanying your boss.

The first thing you see as you walk into a large unfamiliar building, following your boss's steps, is a front desk with some employees sitting there, it seems that this building is home to a few companies and different departments as they guide people into different parts of the building. You watch as your boss approaches the front desk, ''Hello may I help you?'' a woman with blonde hair asks politely.

''Yes I have a meeting with Kineros Robotics'' he says and she looks at you, then him again, and points towards a sign. ''It's to your right just follow the signs'' she says and you notice how her facial expression changed from nice and friendly to cold and possibly scared? after your boss mentioned the company name. Reading people's expressions and understanding their underlying feelings, has always been something you are good at but you quickly shake the thought away and follow your boss.

As you walk down the corridor you see a young woman with long brown curled hair wearing a blouse with flower prints and a skirt run down the hall with a box in her hand, her heels echoing through the building. ''I'm sorry'' she mumbles hectic and nervous as she zooms past you and you give Mr. Odell a questioning expression before reaching the department.

''I'm so sorry there was a bad accident on the 101'' you hear the woman say and then you hear a sound that sounds both so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The cane tapping. For a moment you freeze, knowing this isn't just any cane tap as you are so used to a certain redhead woman expressing her emotions partly through the very device that helps her keep her balance. Despite not having heard the sound in over a year, you know exactly who must be on the other end of the hallway.

Temporarily you freeze, thinking maybe her leaving you and breaking things off with you, has ultimately clouded your senses and affected your brain and maybe you are imagining everything. After all the rational part of yourself, is trying to remind you that there is no explanation right now as to why she would be here of all places.

However, the next thing you hear is a clear confirmation that your brain is not tricking you, it's not your mind so clouded by her absence, she is here, the only thing keeping you from seeing each other is a wall and a few steps apart. As you hear a familiar voice your heart stops beating and your throat goes dry.

''Not as bad as the accident that brought you into the world'' that is all you heard and although her voice sounds more cold, harsh and raspy you are fully aware that Wilhemina is sitting at the end of that corridor. For a moment your body goes into a state of shock, your ears ringing, vision blurring, and your heart beating out of your chest.

Shortly after the girl what you assume now to be an assistant comes running back towards the corridor with tears in her eyes and her heels making the same clicking sound. She zooms past you and Mr. Odell again and all he says is ''Damn she seems feisty'' and you know it's aimed at Wilhemina and for a moment you debate whether to just turn around and pretend to be sick or needing to answer a phone call but you know you can't back out now, after all, you have missed seeing her for too long now.

All you wanna do is see her adorable orange hair, that you used to run your fingers through and untangle some knots after she had a long day, the dorky glasses that you sometimes made fun of, and beautiful pastel purple probably everywhere if this truly was her workplace after all. ''Come on'' your boss says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again and you walk into the large room.

Eyes instantly wander to the source of purple in the room and the source of darkness in your heart and emptiness ever since she left but not only does your heart stop for a moment as you take a look at her, you blink a few times, now actually sure whether this is real or some kind of nightmare.

Wilhemina's hair is a much darker shape of red now and styled into a tall sharp quiff, no sign of her usual high ponytails anymore or the lighter and orange shape it used to be. You notice she doesn't wear glasses anymore and you are convinced her eyes look an even darker shape than before too. She is wearing a dress and it's also a very dark shade of purple with matching earrings. Even her makeup is darker, and as you see her sitting by her desk you can't deny how intimidating she seems, looking at some files, her cane resting on the desk right beside her. Even the cane is different now, it has a snake shape at the top and it's not the old plain one she used to have.

For a moment you believe you just walked right into your own personal nightmare, the funny, sometimes sassy, and beautiful girl you used to love now seems like a completely different and somewhat evil person. The Wilhemina you once loved and still have feelings for, as they never truly changed, seems gone and it seems like she was replaced by a new one, a colder version.

She would have never spoken to anyone like that or treated someone the way she just treated that girl that seems to be her assistant, by the looks of it. All the staring and observing Wilhemina happened in a matter of seconds although it feels like an eternity, everything is silent for a moment, all that is to be heard is your own heartbeat and the typing on Wilhemina's keyboard.

You watch as your boss approaches her and you follow him and finally, Wilhemina looks up noticing the presence of someone else in the room and her gaze is focused on him, so she hasn't seen you yet. He tries to shake her hand and says ''My name is Mr. Odell I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister'' and she just looks at him and his hand with a slightly disgusted expression but she doesn't bother shaking his hand.

''Very well'' she says and takes a glance at you for a split second, noticing a second person in the room and her eyes wander back to her laptop thinking you are just some assistant but when she realizes who you are she immediately looks back over to you and she doesn't avert her gaze at first.

Wilhemina takes in your features for a moment, the sense of fashion, dressing smartly and formally but at the same time stunning as she always said, your hair, the improved makeup skills, and still the same details she always loved about you. She doesn't look into your eyes yet and you are interrupted when two men walk over.

One of them has brown hair and the other blonde hair and you try hard not to chuckle when you see them because they look hideous. ''Mr. Odell, nice to meet you'' they say and shake hands. ''This is Y/L/N maybe someone could show her around while we finalize the details?'' your boss suggests, taking you by surprise, and one of the two turns to Wilhemina and says ''Miss Venable would you give this beautiful lady a tour please''.

For a split second, you are convinced, she is about to kill him but you aren't sure if it's about the tour or compliment. ''Of course'' she mumbles and your boss and the two men leave and you are left there with your ex-girlfriend and awkward silence filling the room. You haven't looked up or into her eyes yet and it terrifies you, she terrifies you.

Wilhemina has no idea what to do or how to react after not seeing you for two years and the last time she did she walked out of your life and your relationship. The redhead looks at you and without looking into your eyes yet she knows the pain, she can see it and she can tell this is killing you inside, the last thing she ever wanted was to cause you pain.

You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and turn to Wilhemina and your eyes instantly lock and you look into her dark brown eyes and not leave her gaze for one moment. She takes a few slow steps towards you, her cane hitting the floor, and with every tap and echo in the room, it feels like your heart is ripped into more pieces and your past is here confronting you right at this moment.

''Mina'' is everything you can say but it comes out as a whisper while your voice cracks. Your ex-girlfriend's eyes close right away because she has missed hearing you call her that for the past two years but as she opens her eyes she reminds herself internally, who she is and that she is currently at her workplace.

''Follow me'' she instructs and you follow her while she walks down a corridor and into a room with big machines. While you follow her you can't understand what would have happened to her to turn into this cold-hearted person. She used to be the sweetest and kindest person you knew but clearly, something has changed. You cannot take your eyes off her and as she walks you into the room with machines, she explains about the work they do here and how they do it and as much as you try to focus and look at the things she shows you, you can't and Wilhemina notices.

''Do I bore you?'' she suddenly snaps in that cold voice again, her nostrils flaring and your heart feels like a knife was just thrown right into it. ''I'm sorr- sorry I-'' but you can't even think of a good enough excuse so you just look at the floor and try hard to keep your emotions at bay.

''Anyways, these are the machines and devices we use, whenever someone places a custom order we make sure to fulfill that order as efficient and quick as possible'' Wilhemina explains her voice still stern, sounding like she has given this tour so many times, she has memorized every single word.

However, you do notice her looking at you the entire time she explains and it seems like she wants you to say something but there are too many things that you want and wanted to say to her for years but you never imagined one day you would run into her like this. For several minutes the two of you stand in the rooms with machines, Wilhemina explaining and you trying hard to focus on her words intently.

''Y/N'' you hear the voice of your boss coming from the door, the two strange-looking men behind him, and you look at him, noticing the satisfied looks on their faces, indicating the deal worked well, and he says ''I'm finished, thank you, Miss, for giving her the tour'' he adds now focused on Wilhemina. ''Let's go'' he says and you walk in his direction without looking back at her and just as you are about to walk out of the door you look at her and say ''Thank you'' and then you walk out.

As you walk out of the large office building, back through the same long corridor, and past the front desk, you can't hear anything your boss is trying to say and the entire car ride back to the office you try and wrap your head around what just happened, abandoning every single word Mr. Odell is saying.

''This didn't happen wake up Y/N wake-up Y/N'' you keep repeating in your head but it's no use this is no nightmare this is reality.

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years

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can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

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

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

word count: 15k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” Tom questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You scared me,” she breathes out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” she says softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her.

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

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier.

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room.

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says.

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again.

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose.

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his.

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place.

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch.

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy.

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely.

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle.

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again.

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes.

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says.

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would.

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting.

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed.

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes.

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open.

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #boyfriend!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #1dff #cstsyl

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leilabeaux · 3 years

Text

In My Sights III

Masterlist | Two

Pairing: Ivar/ Fem Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warning: None? 7 years bad luck?

Summary: A meeting with two brothers from Vestfold takes Ivar off guard.

Author’s Note: Well, this part was a long time coming. That means I will have part four ready next year.

The dining room was sparsely occupied that early afternoon with women who lunch, businessmen on lunch breaks, and their quiet chatter. The Vine had long been considered a historical landmark in Kattegat and was formerly a struggling fine dining restaurant. It had only gained popularity with the upper class once Aslaug Lothbrok, a well-known Götaland socialite who was newly married and new to the city, started to make her presence there. Though it’s popularity faded over the years, it was still preferred by the old money elite. Mostly for the staff’s discretion rather than the food and ambience.

It was for that reason why the Lothbrok sons preferred the establishment for their business lunches. Extra care was also usually taken with a generous tip to the host to ensure no other guests would be seated next to their table but today it was turning out to be a waste of money as the hushed voices from their corner of the room began to grow.

Ivar drummed his fingers against the table as he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, glaring across at his three older brothers. Apparently, the idiots had forgotten the importance of discretion as they were busy bickering over why their associates called for today’s meeting. He hoped the clinking of his cup when he set it down roughly onto the saucer would disrupt their chattering but, to his annoyance, still they continued.

Leaning back in his chair, his left hand mindlessly traced the carved out dragon on his cane, last year’s birthday gift from his dear Uncle Floki, while he scrolled through the day’s news on his phone. One particular article detailed the resignation of a Mercia diplomat after the unexpected death of her eldest son, mentioning that authorities were looking for a red-headed female who was last seen with him for questioning.

Good luck finding her, Ivar thought to himself. He had given up all attempts at trying to find you or any information about you after a year upon your meeting. After coming up empty through hacked databases and facial recognitions, he concluded that you were virtually a ghost or at least knew very powerful people who worked hard to keep you hidden. All he could do was sit and wait until he heard from you again, hoping his right hand and the memories of your last tryst would keep him satisfied till then.

He felt his slacks tighten as he got lost in a memory of you trapped underneath him as he pounded into your sweet cunt. The whines of you begging him to make you come he heard in his head were interrupted when Ubbe pounded his fist on the table, causing the glassware to shake.

“For fuck’s safe, Ivar, get off your fucking phone!” His older brother harshly whispered, checking over his shoulder at the other patrons, finally aware of the scene they were making.

“And why would I do that, dear brother?” Ivar still had his eyes turned down to his phone as he sent you the link of the article and a brief message: You’re on their radar. I wonder what you’re willing to do to make sure I don’t turn you in. Throwing his phone on the table, he raised an eyebrow as he bestowed Ubbe with his undivided attention. “So I can join you fools in biting our fingernails, worrying why they called for a meeting at the last minute?”

“They” were two brothers from Vestfold, owners of a large fishing company based out of their hometown and, most recently, out of Kattegat as well. To the public eye, it was assumed that it was hard work, determination, and a wise investment from Ivar’s father that turned the once struggling business into a multi million dollar success. But the young men currently seated at the table knew that the wise investment was generous compensation throughout the years for hauling more than just fish on their boats. Whether it was guns, stolen art and, for a very brief moment in time, opiates, Halfdan and Harald provided safe transport for anything the Lothbroks were running.

“You're not the least bit worried? What if they’re wanting to pull out of our deal? The Rus are not going to be pleased if we’re not able to deliver their shipment.” Ubbe wrung his hands as he thought of the worst. He was not looking forward to telling the Rus leader of any potential delays. The man wasn’t the most level headed or understanding and honestly, he creeped him out a bit.

Hvitserk nodded his head in agreement. “They might be. Remember, they were wanting a cut of our profits the last time we met with them but Ivar thought it wasn’t a good idea…” He pursed his lips in disapproval before cutting his eyes toward the youngest Lothbrok.

If Ivar had rolled his eyes any harder, he would have given himself a headache. “They’ve been doing the same job for our family for nearly twenty years, nothing more and nothing less, and have been paid fairly for it. Maybe a little too much in my opinion but I will honor our father’s wishes. Still they have no business being greedy. If it wasn’t for the Lothbroks, they would still be hauling fish into a sinking dinghy.”

“There are probably others who are looking for a way to transport their shit and all they need is a smug asshole like Harald to offer his services.” Hvitserk swirled his drink in his glass, taking a sip before continuing. “I think we should give them at least half of what they were wanting.”

Ivar gave an aggravated sigh and was ready to shoot down what he thought was the stupidest thing to come out of his brother’s mouth.

“I don’t know, I think Ivar’s right.” Sigurd chimed in. “They should be grateful for all our father did for them, not bite the hand that feeds them.”

The other men at the table sat in silence as they stared at him in confusion. It was thought that Sigurd would rather eat a bullet than agree with anything Ivar had to say.

“I changed my mind. Give them everything they ask for.” Ivar had joked, he would never admit out loud or to himself that he appreciated his least favorite brother taking his side. Officially done with the conversation, he picked his phone back up. He held back his smile as he read the new message: Anything you want me to do, handsome. But first, you’d have to find me.

Ubbe looked up from behind his nerve-wracked hands toward the lobby and gave a sigh. “Thank gods, they’re finally here...and of course he brought his fucking girlfriend. To our illegal business lunch meeting. Great.”

Hvitserk gave a quick and quiet wolf whistle as his eyes studied the woman on Harald’s arm, from head to toe. “Is that the same one he brought to your birthday party? Didn’t she have different hair and was a bit taller?”

“How can you not tell? I thought you fucked her while cake was being served?” Sigurd questioned.

“All I remember was the back of her head, to be honest.”

Ivar couldn’t hold back the snort at Hvitserk’s comment. Whatever smart ass response that was about to come out died on his tongue as he looked up at the woman that was being led to them. This was definitely a new girlfriend because if you were the one Hvitserk had fucked in the coat check room, he was going to have one less brother.

As always you looked like perfection to him but he knew your presence, or rather your outfit, was causing a bit of a stir in the restaurant especially among the older women who were busy clutching their pearls. From the plunging neckline of the loose dark green silk shirt to the matching miniskirt with a side-slit it was tucked into, your ensemble was far from the acceptable dress code of the Vine but the host knew better than telling Ivar and his brothers that their guest would have to leave, no matter how many complaints he’d get from the other patrons.

“Can you two shut the fuck up before he hears you?” Ubbe scolded Hvitserk and Sigurd before standing up to greet their guests. Shaking Halfdan’s hand before moving onto Harald, “Gentleman, I’m glad you could finally join us.”

Halfdan gave a frustrated sigh as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and plopped himself down on an empty seat. “Believe me, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh come on, brother. We didn’t keep you waiting that long.” Harald slapped a hand on his shoulder before parading the young woman on his arm. “Boys, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Veronica.”

Ivar instantly wished he had ordered something stronger than coffee. He didn’t want to believe for a moment that you would choose to be with someone like Harald but you did warn him before that he hardly knew you.

In his opinion, the Fishmonger wasn’t much to be desired. And if it was money you were after, Ivar’s funds could have kept your excessive shopping addiction quelled more than the mere pennies the other man had. He knew he could satisfy you in that way and others.

Patiently sitting back in his chair, he watched as you politely smiled while you shook hands with each of his brothers. Hvitserk was unaware how close he was to a dinner knife to his thigh after lingering a second too long while kissing the back of your hand. Fortunately, Harald had the good sense to pull you away.

Ivar balanced his weight on his cane as he stood up to introduce himself, taking a risk and gently caressing his thumb against your hand. “Lovely to meet you, Veronica.”

Although you said nothing back, he didn’t miss the small smirk that briefly graced your face letting your alleged boyfriend lead you to your seat.

“I hope you boys don’t mind her being here. I know we try to keep these meetings to ourselves but I’ve been a little busy and this beautiful thing has been missing me.” He kissed the back of your hand, causing you to giggle. “Didn’t even want to take my card and go on a shopping spree.”

“I swear you won’t even hear a peep from me.” You promised, miming zipping your lips closed while you took a seat across from Ivar. “Harry’s shop talk ends up sounding more like gibberish to me anyway!”

Ivar had to focus to not show his confusion when he heard you speak. The words coming out of your mouth sounded as if they were dipped in saccharine and nowhere near the lower sultry tone he was used to. He hoped to himself that you would stay true to your promise and remain silent.

Unfortunately, promises meant nothing to his brothers.

“So what do you do for a living, Veronica?” Sigurd asked while cutting into his beef tenderloin.

You gave him a closed smile, dabbing the corners of your mouth with your napkin as you swallowed your last bite. “Oh my goodness! Nothing as important as what you gents do! I worked in this cute little boutique over in Vestfold before Harry whisked me away!”

“Wow, you must have made a killing in commissions.” Ivar couldn’t resist this opportunity to make you sweat, if that was even possible.

He was sure that hint of confusion on your face seemed authentic to everyone else. “No? Actually, I worked hourly...”

You were cut off by an annoyed groan from Ubbe as he rubbed his face, the food on his plate was barely touched. “Harry...I mean Harald, why did you call this meeting?”

“You couldn’t wait a few more minutes until we were done eating? I’d expect mommy to have taught you some manners.” Harald sighed and tossed his napkin on the table before leaning back in his chair.

Ivar didn’t miss you curling your hand around your knife. The tension surrounding the table definitely wasn’t missed by you.

Before Ubbe could respond, Halfdan had cut into the conversation. “Look, we know the last meeting didn’t go well.”

“Actually, you shot one of our men in the head.” Hvitserk stated, staring at Harald as he made his point.

Halfdan quickly interjected, “One of our captains went rogue. Was convinced by some mysterious buyer to deliver your last load of weapons to them. Don’t worry, we took care of the problem”

The younger Lothbrok brother stayed silent while his brothers voiced out their displeasure. You took a sip from your glass, your eyes cutting back and forth to the men surrounding you.

“Oh, did you?” Ubbe questioned incredulously. “Because there shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Yes, we did.” Harald finally broke his silence with an emphasis on every word. “The man liked a good drink...a little too much. It was unfortunately only a matter of time until he drunkenly stumbled off his boat. I’m sure the medical examiner we paid off would attest that it was accidental drowning. As for the guns, they’re on another boat with a crew we know we can trust.”

“The buyer? Do you think it was the Saxons?” Sigurd suggested to the table.

“No, they thrive on letting it be known when they screw us over. I suspect they either are or know someone close. In either our circle or yours. I just hope our actions show that we are loyal and can be trusted.” Harald regarded that last statement to Ivar, knowing his silence throughout the exchange meant he was the one he had to win over.

The young man grinned as he sat back in his seat “You know, before you got here, my brothers were saying they didn’t think you deserved any part of our profits but I personally think a five percent cut of every successful shipment is reasonable.”

A smirk slowly spread against Harald’s face. “I think that sounds very reasonable.”

----

Ivar slowly made his way to the front of the restaurant. The remainder of lunch was uneventful other than the mindless chatter of Hvitserk and Sigurd asking you 20 questions. Ubbe promptly left after taking care of the bill and with so few words.

He rolled his eyes in disgust as he watched Harald wrap his arms around you, not even trying to be modest as his hands grabbed your ass. He had to fight the urge to not cut the man’s hands off for touching something that belonged to him.

You squealed and playfully swatted his chest. You gave a quick glance at Ivar as he slowly approached. “Baby, I’ll meet you outside. I just need to touch up my lipstick real quick.”

“Okay, lovely. Don’t be too long, we have a plane waiting on us.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before letting you go. He walked out of the restaurant, not even noticing that Ivar was close by.

Your heels clicked on the marble floor and you peeked over your shoulder toward Ivar, giving him a small grin before you made a quick turn into the washroom.

Ivar looked around to make sure there were no eyes on him as he made his way in the same direction as you. He didn’t expect his brothers to worry too much about him. He would’ve been surprised if one of them had waited for him especially since he took his own personal town car to the restaurant.

Before he could even walk through the door, you yanked him in by his tie then pushed him against the adjacent wall. He barely had time to react when he felt your lips against his own. He wrapped his arm around your waist and groaned when your hand tugged down on his locks.

Usually you enjoyed taking your time kissing him, teasing with a soft touch of your hand at the back of his neck, savoring every small whine he made when you nipped on his bottom lip. But today was different as you rushed to deepen the kiss. Both of you knew that if you were gone too long, Harald would come hunting for you.

When you broke away from him, you looked into his eyes, stifling a soft giggle. “Hi there, handsome.” You teased, your voice finally back to normal.

“Gods, that voice you were putting on was annoying.”

“I don’t know. Harald seems okay with it.” You pushed yourself away from him, walking over to the sink and pulled out a tube of lipstick from your clutch.

Ivar stayed put against the wall, watching as you leaned over the sink to look yourself in the mirror.

He repeatedly tapped his cane on the tile, “Is he why you said no?”

“Said no to what?” You stayed focused on reapplying the red color on your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh when you looked up and saw the annoyed look Ivar was giving you.

You smooth a finger around your lips, cleaning up any smudges. “I’m not his girlfriend, Ivar. He thinks I’m the very expensive call girl he hired to keep him company over the weekend. Just your basic girlfriend experience.” You dropped the lipstick back into your clutch before closing it with a snap.

“Your client wants him taken care of?” He walked over and propped his hip against the counter next to you. “That would save me some money in the long run. One less brother to pay.”

“No…” You looked down at the porcelain instead of looking him in the eyes. “I’m just collecting information on him by any means necessary.”

“Any means necessary?” While Ivar usually admired your dedication to committing to your undercover work, he found himself not liking the idea of you following through on this one. “Y/N, please tell me there’s a target on his head.”

You quickly glanced up at him through the mirror before turning to lean against the counter. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “At the moment, no.”

“Goddammit, Y/N” Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose. Though the thought of someone else hands over your body aggravated him, the idea of another man inside of you incited him. “Are you going to fuck him? Have you fucked him?”

“Ivar…you and your brothers were waiting for a reason. It would have been suspicious if the hooker refused to fuck him.” You stated as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“How much is your client paying you? I’ll double it—fuck it, I’ll triple it if you just walk away now.”

“No one is paying me. I’m on my boss’s orders.”

“And who do you work for again?”

“Tsk, tsk. You already know that if I told you, I’d have to kill you and I don’t want to have to mess up that pretty face. Again.” Pressing up against him, you gently brushed your thumb over the faint scar that went across his cheek. A sweet parting gift from one of your earlier encounters with him.

“Tell me what information you need and I’ll get it for you.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “Just...just don’t go with him.”

You cradled his face in your hands. For a brief moment, there was a look that Ivar had seen on your face before, a mixture of pity and sadness. You shook your head then pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before you walked away from him.

“Please don’t hate me, handsome.” Through the wall length mirror ahead of him, he saw you turn to face him after pausing at the closed door. “You can be mad and you can curse at me until we’re old and grey. Shit, you could even throw another knife at me but I think it would hurt me more if you hated me.”

You waited a moment for him to say or do anything, but when all you got was silence, you walked out of the door.

Ivar took a deep inhale to try to calm the anger that was beginning to flow through his body. He turned toward the mirror, his knuckles going white as he grabbed onto the edge of the sink. No care when his cane falls to the ground with a resounding smack.

When he was younger, he had got into some trouble after he hit a classmate with a rock. The therapist his Uncle Floki took him to after the incident told him to try counting to ten whenever he saw red.

He closed his eyes, letting out an exhale at every count in his head.

On five, he could see you.

Six, Harald slowly walking up behind you.

Seven, him taking you into his arms.

Eight, his tongue sliding up your neck.

Nine, his hand trailing down to your center.

Ten, you softly moaning out Harald’s name.

Ivar screamed out in rage and punched the mirror. He didn’t even notice the pain in his fist until his breathing evened out. He straightened out his tie the best he could with the distorted reflection in front of him. Flexing his injured hand, he reached over and grabbed one of the towels laid out on the counter, wrapping his hand in it.

If Harald didn’t have a target on his head before, he fucking did now.

——

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @castielsangelsx @revolution-starter @momowhoo @peachyboneless @punkrocknpearls

@love-all-things-writing @peoniesandbooks5 @spotgaai2000 @walkxthexmoon @youbloodymadgenius @trip2themoon @zo3st3rmonro3

#vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless au #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x femreader #alex høgh andersen x fem reader #alex høgh andersen x reader

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fallingappleshurt · 4 years

Note

Could you possibly write a SBI FD AU of all of the boys at Christmas. Could be at Christmas or any other time during the winter. Genuinely all I want to read right now. <3

Ty, Anon

Snowy Boys Incorporated (Part 1/2)

Sorry y’all, apparently word limits are a thing but anyways here it is!

Sorry if the flow of this was weird, it jumps from Phil to Tommy to Techno back to Tommy then to Wilbur, I have no excuse

This AU was made my the wonderful @antarctic-bay go check her out! And please keep in mind my writing isn’t canon!

Also the two times French is mentioned I used google translate because I am tired

Anyways hope you enjoy!

Phil parked the car and texted Techno and Wilbur to come help him and Tommy with the tree and ornaments. He turned off the engine and pocketed his phone, hoping Techno and Wilbur had actually moved the furniture to make room for the tree while him and Tommy had actually got the tree and ornaments from a storage unit.

“Phil- Phil! The tree is stuck!” Tommy said, Phil could hear him yanking at the box.

“Hang on, watch the ice,” Phil came around to the trunk of the car, ignoring the snowflakes fluttering down, he saw Tommy trying to shake the box from it’s jammed position.

“How did you manage this?”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me try,” Phil grabbed the sides of the box, trying to slowly wedge it out, but to no avail. “How did you do this?”

“Wh- How is this my fault?” Tommy cried, starting to pull at the box again.

“You’re the one that packed it!”

“What are you guys doing?” Phil looked over to see Techno standing by the car, eyebrow raised.

“Tommy’s shit at packing and got the tree stuck.”

“That sounds like him-”

“Hey!”

“You’re just mad-” Techno was caught off guard by Wilbur coming up behind him, slipping, and knocking them both to the ground.

“Wilbur what the fuck!”

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me!” Phil cackled as Tommy laughed loudly, wheezing at the end.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole! Instant karma!”

Techno responded by grabbing a fist full of snow and throwing it at Tommy, it landed on his chest and he yelped.

“It got in my shirt!”

“Good.”

After Techno and Wilbur had untangled themselves and dusted the snow from their clothes, they started to help them with the tree. They ended up having Techno climb into the car and lower one of the backseats and after much more struggling and wiggling the box they managed to free the tree from its very old, silver chamber.

Wilbur grabbed the boxes of ornaments and started up the stairs while Tommy and Techno followed with the tree and Phil locked up the car, listening to his brother's banter and hoping they actually wouldn’t try to race up the stairs.

He was glad to see his brothers more relaxed, they had all been stressed with finals right before break, he had come home from work many nights seeing them with books and papers spread out across the table, empty cups of coffee and energy drink cans littered around.

It was nice to see them fooling around.

Phil entered the apartment and slipped off his shoes, throwing them in the pile, to see Techno dragging the tree out of it’s box while Tommy and Wilbur pulled cobwebs off of ornaments.

They set up the tree in the corner of the room by a window and started to mess with the cords to plug in the lights, after unplugging and replugging every cord they managed to fit the tree lights in.

They started decorating, adding on colorful glass balls and a few candy canes just to be extra even though they knew Wilbur would eat them later.

Phil grabbed his personal favorite ornament, a wooden one with Snoopy and Woodstalk wearing santa hats in the snow, and hung it on the tree. They each had a favorite ornament, Techno’s was a mini violin, Wilbur’s an ornate snowflake, Tommy’s was a glass pickle. They were all hung on the front of the tree where they were easily seen.

They still had some of the little foam ornaments, the kind that are made in elementary school and kept for nostalgia and nostalgia only. Some still had pictures, Phil with an old striped bucket hat that they only let him keep for the first day of school. He missed that hat, it had been lost in a move.

Pulling more from the box, he found a snowman with a picture of Techno, glasses too big for his face, smiling shyly at the camera with paint on his hands. A baby blue foam mitten had a picture of Wilbur, who wasn’t facing the camera, with wild hair and a huge grin on his face as he slapped at a toy keyboard. A fading gingerbread man had a picture of Tommy grinning, eyes squeezed shut with colorful band aids across his face.

He took pictures with his phone and hung them up on the tree, much to his younger brother's annoyance.

Wilbur scrapped old tinsel out of the bottom of the boxes and put a few strands on the tree. Tommy grabbed the bundles of old lights and proceeded to strong them along the walls of the apartment.

“These are the next best things to LED lights,” He said, almost matter-of- factly, Phil just laughed as Tommy attempted to tape some of the wire to the wall. He was eventually able to pull it off after continually yelling at Techno to bring him duct tape and ‘fucking help him or he’d shake the bunk’.

After they had finished setting it up, they turned off all the lights except for the tree and strung ones on the wall. The colorful candy ones shown in the window by the tree and the golden light showed nicely against their white walls.

“The yellow lights kind of look like fireflies,” Techno mused, rubbing at his eyes.

“Maybe in video games, but this is the real world,” Tommy scoffed.

“Aww, are you tired?” Wilbur teased voice raising multiple octaves, “Little Blade need a na-”

Techno shoved Wilbur’s face away, “Shut up Wilbur,” He grumbled.

“When was the last time you slept?” Phil asked.

“Uh,” Techno paused for much longer then necessary, “Can’t remember.”

“Huh, that’s definitely not concerning-”

“I think this looks great!” Tommy interrupted, “Considering half of this stuff was covered in cobwebs!”

Phil nodded, “Oh wait, we forgot the star!” He started digging through one the boxes, his brothers left him to it and sat down on the couch. The star was always Phil’s thing, it was never a spoken rule, just something they had agreed on. Once he found it, Phil placed it on the tree then sat down next to his brothers.

He asked Wilbur about his day and Wilbur told him about finals hell and how every student looked dead or was trying to sleep in the cafeteria.

He turned to the others only to find that Techno and Tommy had already passed out, leaning on each other. Phil nudged Wilbur with his elbow, nodding towards the sleeping pair. They both pulled out their phones, taking pictures.

“Blackmail?” Phil asked, a grin pulling at his lips. Wilbur nodded.

“Blackmail.”

Phil took Techno’s glasses off of his face and set them on the coffee table and Wilbur covered them with a blanket.

The next morning Tommy sat up groggily, his first thought being that he was really hungry, so after untangling his and Techno’s limbs he padded into the kitchen. He started making a bowl of cereal and scrambled eggs, he made them in the lazy way, whisking the eggs with a fork then putting them in the microwave.

Then he remembered that it had been snowing the day before and rushed over to the window. A thick white blanket covered the terrain, sparkling white with soft gray clouds coating the sky. He opened the window and poked at the snow. He squished a fistful in his palm, it was packed, heavy snow.

Perfect for snowball fights.

He was going to destroy his brothers.

He closed the window then went to grab his food and sat at the table. A few minutes later he saw Techno sit up and rub at his eyes, Tommy watched him look around for a moment.

“Glasses are on the coffee table,” He supplied, taking a bite of cereal, Techno gave him a thumbs up then headed into the kitchen, starting to make a cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you eat breakfast?” Tommy asked, Techno looked over at him, glaring at his food.

“Why do you eat breakfast? It’s too early for food,”

“But not too early for coffee?”

“It’s never too early for coffee Tommy.”

Techno sat down across from him, obviously still trying to wake up fully. Just as Tommy was finishing his food Phil emerged from the hallway.

“You guys ready for today?”

“Heh?”

“What’s happening today?”

Phil raised an eyebrow, “Did you forget? We are helping down at the St Francis soup kitchen- my friend is low on people-I told you about this a week ago.”

“I completely forget,” Techno’s response was muffled by the coffee cup.

“Well we gotta be there in like an hour, get moving!”

Tommy put his dishes in the sink and saw Wilbur standing in the hall, staring him down.

“Hey Tommy, didn’t you wanna shower this morning?” He asked, eyes drifting towards the bathroom.

“Wilbur don’t-”

“Tommy-”

“Wilbur don’t-” Tommy’s begging was cut off as Wilbur shot to the side, dove into the bathroom and slammed the door. Tommy rushed over, pounding on the flimsy wood.

“Damn it Wilbur! Open the door!”

He heard the shower start and pounded harder.

“Wilbur you bitch!”

“Tommy it is too early for you to be this loud-” Techno said from the table.

“I’ll be quieter sooner if you help me open the door!”

Techno considered it for a moment then stood up, “Where is that bent coat hanger-”

“For fucks sake-” Phil put a hand on Tommy’s chest then knocked on the door, “Wilbur! You got ten minutes!”

Wilbur’s ‘okay’ was muffled from the door, Tommy sighed, leaning on the door, deciding he would absolutely beat the shit out of his brothers later.

They were running late because of course they were, between the fight for the bathroom, getting the car cleaned off and getting to the soup kitchen in the day before Christmas traffic was not the easier task, at least for the Pandels.

They finally pulled up to the soup kitchen and parked in the back, heading inside. They had barely managed to take off their coats before an employee pulled them into the kitchen.

Tommy was barely able to process what the man said, something about being understaffed, and shoved Tommy next to another boy who was sorting out juice boxes and fruit cups onto trays.

His brothers were being pulled aside to do actual cooking, they had done it before once when Tommy was sick and had to stay home.

After sorting and setting out all of the food along a conveyor belt type thing, Tommy wasn’t really sure what it was, they pulled up a metal covering so people could come get food.

Each person had to pass out different foods to people, Tommy was put at the end of the conveyor belt, handing out christmas cookies. Wilbur was next to him, offering different drinks.

Multiple different people came down the line, filling their plates with food and sitting down in the cafeteria. There was a TV in the corner and a bookshelf, other people milled about, soft chatter against the pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

Two kids walked through the line with their parents, the girl looked at Wilbur and wrinkled her nose.

“Your hat looks weird,”

Tommy cackled and gave her an extra cookie.

Eventually they shut the windows and started to clean up the kitchen, putting plates and trays into a huge dishwasher, boxing things up in a walk in freezer and handing out non perishables to people as they left.

Tommy leaned against the counter, Techno and Phil were taking off aprons and putting them in a laundry pile, his shoulders loosened. They had helped people, it felt good;

“Just helped some people- feeling good-”

“Just killed a woman, feeling good!” Wilbur cut in, elbowing Tommy in the ribs, he elbowed him back. “Dickhead,”

“Hey! We’re gonna be heading out soon!” Phil called across the kitchen.

“Is there anything else we have planned?” He asked Wilbur.

“We’re making cookies,”

“Why?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Cause Techno got some new recipes from that gang of Lesbians at school.”

Tommy shuttered, “Oh I remember them, they scare me-”

“I thought you said they were cool,” Wilbur interjected, starting to follow Phil out the door.

“They are! But they also scare the shit out of me!”

Wilbur laughed, “As they should.”

Techno was watching Tommy slide around the kitchen in his socks when Phil asked; “Techno, you said you had some new recipes?”

He nodded, “Yeah, the Lesbian group chat gave me some,”

He remembered getting them was an interesting process, he asked them if they knew of any good cookie recipes and they had all started spamming for one girl to get online. When she did get online he asked the question again. She responded in all caps ‘You fucking fuck! Of course I have some! I am a cottagecore lesbian! What do you take me for!’ Then sent him 7 different recipes.

Wilbur snorted, “I still can’t believe you got taken in by a group of lesbians.”

Techno rolled his eyes and sent two of the recipes to Phil, who was preheating the oven.

“Why are we making so many?” Tommy asked, grabbing the baking sheets from the cabinets.

“They are for the neighbors,” Phil said.

“As a gift?”

“As an apology, you guys are fucking loud.”

Techno smiled, getting out the measuring cups and starting to put ingredients into the bowl. One was a recipe for sugar cookies, which is what he and Wilbur were doing, and the other were snickerdoodles which Phil and Tommy were in charge of.

Techno and Wilbur always worked well together, they flowed around each other, passing ingredients and helping each other out. Meanwhile Phil and Tommy had spilled half of the things they were trying to get into the bowl.

As Wilbur and Techno put their cookies in the oven, Phil nudged Tommy.

“Tommy, where is the rest of the butter, you said you grabbed more,”

“I did, I grabbed-”

“Then give it to me,”

Tommy didn’t move, “Hey Phil, remember when I said I had the butter-well- I lied.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry Phil, We still have some over here,” Wilbur passed a stick of butter behind him.

“Do you guys want some help-” Techno asked, biting his tongue, Tommy pushed him away.

“No! We got this!”

So Wilbur and Techno hung out in the living room while Phil and Tommy tried not to kill each other over cookies. It turned out to be for the best though because when they were ready to put their cookies in, Wilbur and Techno’s were done.

The two decorated their cookies with colored sprinkles, the recipe said it was optional but Wilbur had made the excellent point that sprinkles should never be optional.

Once Phil and Tommy’s cookies were done and left out too cool, Techno’s phone buzzed.

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haunted-by-catholic-guilt · 4 years

Text

Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Jon was born hurting.

Well, that was an exaggeration, but he did have chronic pain for as long as he could remember.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TW FOR INTERNALIZED ABLEISM

i think thats all this has been in my folder for ages

yeah the title is from a mother mother song don't @ me

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jon was born hurting.

Well, that was an exaggeration, but he did have chronic pain for as long as he could remember.

He was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and fibromyalgia at age 26, after ten years of progressing symptoms and a lot of pushing from Georgie.

He had started using a cane that same year, after one too many falls for his liking.

He was embarrassed, of course, being as young as he was and needing to use it, but after much reassuring from Georgie, and the pure pain he was in, he finally did it.

He wore braces sometimes, but found that the cane was much to.. showy already that he wasn’t well.

No one at the institute seemed to care, second glances, some odd comments on the rare occasion.

On his first day as head archivist, he looked down to the archives, a steep, jagged set of stairs in his path.

Fuck.

He sighed and painstakingly slowly made his way down the stairs, he was early, and no one saw him, thank god for that.

It continues on like that for a while, going into work early, leaving late, not leaving for lunch.

It worries Martin, and Martin makes that clear.

Jon does not like Martin.

The dog in the archives for one, his constantly late work, his penmanship, his lack of basic knowledge, his frequent interruptions-

Jon could go on and on about why he hates Martin Blackwood, and he makes sure Martin knows.

It does not stop Martins’s worry, or his kindness, and that’s what Jon hates the most.

Jon tries to calmly hate Martin, scarcely snapping at him, and very rarely raising his voice, at anyone, really.

Today, however, Jon had woken up in some of the worse pain he had felt in a long time, something more than the normal bad pain.

His joints were burning, and it was expanding into an ache around them, his skin stung at any small touch, and a stinging pain threads its way through his veins.

Despite this, Jon still went into work, having to stop every few steps to catch his breath, and regroup.

He got in early and locked himself in his office, not talking to anyone and hoping it would stay that way.

But of course, Martin couldn’t give him that, could he?

A soft knock on the door, more for courtesy than asking for permission, Jon had learned.

“Goodmorning, Jon! I brought you tea-“

Jon felt anger rise and boil over before he could stop it, he slammed his hand on his desk, which did not help his pain but that was the least of the issues at hand.

“Damnit, Martin! I don’t want your goddamn tea, I don’t want to talk to you, please for the love of God leave me alone and do your goddamn work well for once? If your performance does not improve soon I will have you fired. And stop getting in the way.

He was yelling, he didn’t mean to yell, but he was.

Martin was pale and shaking, he looked like he was about to cry, and Tim and Sasha had gone dead quiet outside of his office.

Martin cleared his throat, and quickly pulled himself back together.

“R-right I’ll jus- I’ll be going.”

Martin closed the door, and Jon sagged into his chair.

He was going to pay for this, he lost his temper and now he was going to pay for it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Martin closed the door to Jon’s office, and it took all he had not to start crying right then and there.

He inhaled shakily, and glanced into the break room, where Sasha and Tim were currently quiet, and staring at him.

Shit.

Tim was the first to move, quickly moving to Martin and then ushering him into the breakroom and sat him down at the table, and Sasha gently pried the tea out of his shaking hands, but he hardly noticed, being too focused on not crying.

He heard Tim talking, his voice was loud and sounded angry, and Sasha was stroking his arm but sounded pissed.

He didn’t hear anything that was being said, he just stared forward, feeling the tears prickle at his eyes, he didn’t even realize he had finally started crying until Sasha cooed, and ran her thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Oh Martin, I’m so sorry.”

He quickly shook his head, it was his own fault, no one needed to apologize.

“N-No it’s alright, I’m fine just uh- over sensitive is all, I’m sorry.”

Tim huffed and patted his shoulder, and walked away, not giving any indication of where he was going, but Martin and Sasha both knew, Martin tried to stop him, though.

“Tim you don’t- Tim!”

His attempt was futile and the door was already open and being slammed again.

He let out a shaky sigh and put his head on the table before he stood back up.

“Well I should probably get back to work”

He let out a quiet heh, and Sasha looked displeased.

“Martin, love, it’s ok that you’re upset by that, he was an ass.”

Martin forced a laugh, but reassured her he was fine, and went back to work.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jon hissed out a sigh, Tim was right.

He was just graced with quite the telling off from an extraordinarily angered Tim, which he completely deserved, some of the highlights included his selfishness, him being a jerk to Martin for no fair reason, and many, many, other things.

He didn’t try to fight back, he knew he deserved it, but he also couldn’t bring himself to talk at all.

His blood was boiling with pain, and his joints had become stiff with aching, he felt like he had been struck by lightning.

Jon sighed, and stood up, he knew he needed to apologize to Martin, the sooner the better, but before he could do anything, everything went black.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been about half an hour since the incident, Tim having spent the larger part of it chewing out Jon, when they heard a crash from Jon’s office.

“Shit”

Tim scowled but he and Martin rushed into Jons office you see him on the floor, unconscious, Martin quickly knelt by him, and grabbed his wrist.

“He doesn’t have a temperature, but his heart rate is fast”

Tim crouched down next to the small man’s unconscious form, before Martin seemed to get an idea.

“Tim, can you set his legs on your lap? Elevation might help.”

He couldn’t comprehend how Martin was still this caring to Jon who not even an hour earlier yelled such nasty things at him, but he did as he was asked.

After a few minutes, Jon started to stir, and opened his eyes, he looked confused for a second, but then revelation hit him.

“Oh- Martin I- I’m so sorry”

Martin smiled, a sad smile, but Tim could tell he was hurt and wouldn’t say anything.

“It’s quite alright Jon, are you okay?”

Jon shifted a little, before realizing his feet were being held, he smiled sheepishly and wiggled out of Tim’s grasp.

“I’m okay, it happens sometimes.”

Martins brow furrowed and despite himself, Tim felt worry blossom in him too.

“It shouldn’t happen, have you gone to a doctor?”

Jon nodded, and began to pull himself off of the floor, and Martin shot up immediately, eager to help, where Tim slowly stood up.

“Yes, it’s fine, Martin.”

Martin helped Jon sit down at his desk, and looked down, still embarrassed about earlier, Tim supposed.

“Come on boss, the least you can do is tell Martin why you yelled at him and then fainted.”

Martin made a noise, and stuttered.

“Tim, that is not necessary! If he doesn’t want to tell us he doesn’t need to”

Jon knew he should tell them, should tell them ‘sometimes I pass out, it’s one of the many symptoms of my chronic illnesses!’ but he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to be seen as fragile, and weak.

“Martin I’m so sorry for yelling earlier, I’m not feeling my best and I took it out on you, but I shouldn’t have”

This time Martin looks up at Jon and looks surprised by a genuine apology.

“It’s alright Jon, really.”

Tim looked like he was about to fight it, but Jon felt a burst of pain from his knee, and let out a whimper despite himself.

“Jon? Are you alright?”

He gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Jon I can tell you’re not, what’s going on?”

Jon sighed, and wrong his hands, anxious for reasons he didn’t understand.

“It’s fine. I just- I have a- a chronic illness, and one of the symptoms of one of them is sometimes when I stand up, or sit up, I get dizzy and sometimes faint, I’m fine really, I just prefer to keep it to myself.”

He twisted his hands again, uncomfortable but Martin put his hand on Jon’s, clearly in a gesture of comfort.

“I- I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Fibromyalgia, my joints aren’t right, too flimsy and bendy, more things too… and my pain varies, but it’s always there and I use the cane to help balance, and no I don’t need your pity or to be treated like I’m fragile just because I’m disabled, it’s just there.”

He looked up to see Martin smiling softly at him, and Tim looking surprised, and Sasha, who had apparently shown up without his knowledge, was leaning against the doorframe.

“Jon, we‘re not going to treat you differently now that we know what’s wrong with you, it can just make it easier for us to, you know, help you!”

Sasha’s voice was soft and reassuring, and she stepped into the room further, and Tim spoke up.

“Boss, you really gotta stop hiding information from us like, ya know, the fact that sometimes you pass out, or you’re going to give poor Martin an early heart attack”

Martin blushed and stammered at that statement, before moving his hand to Jon’s shoulder.

“Jon, I’m glad you told us, I know it can be hard to be open about those things.”

Jon nodded, and slowly started to push himself off the floor, and Martin immediately started to help him up, Tim grabbed his cane from where it had fallen, offering it to him.

“Let us help you, boss, we are a team after all, aren’t we?”

Jon smiled and nodded, and for a second, felt okay.

#the magnus archives #jon uses a cane #chronic pain #projecting #eds #fibromyalgia

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

You Rewrote My Ending (ABCD Friendship) - Candy Cane

A/N: so glad i finished this today!! i have two other wips im currently working on, and im so thankful for @chaoticnachokitten for beign a cheerleader and beta for this one!!! thank you!!! you can follow me at @sillylittlecandycane if you so please <3 enoy :3 Summary: After a long week, the four bffs finally get a chance to relax.

Adore has had what feels like the absolute longest week ever. She knows Courtney was struggling too, Bianca’s texts sound grumpier than usual, and Darienne hasn’t been texting enough, which basically confirms for Adore that they all need to get together asap.

The youngest of the four sends the absolutely most pathetic text she can think of to the group chat, then boom! Next thing she knows, Darienne’s inviting everyone over to her place, Courtney is making sure Bianca’s bringing rich lady alcohol, and Adore is calling in their pizza order to be delivered to Darienne’s.

As the two musicians rush around the house gathering their things before the Uber arrives, Adore remembers at the last minute to poke her head into Trixie’s bedroom so at least one of their other roommates knows where they’re going.

“Hey Trix?” Adore says before she’s even looking in, the second she does look though…

Katya and Trixie are shoulder to shoulder in the latter’s bed, laughing their asses off over something on the laptop situated on their laps. Adore doesn’t quite know what she’s seeing, it’s definitely not the first time they’ve acted like this, but it is… different.

“What’s up?” Trixie says, still coming off the high of laughter.

“Courm and I are headed to Darienne’s for the night, I dunno when we’ll be back-”

“Cool, have fun!” Trixie cuts her off a bit too quickly.

Adores glances between her roommates, deciding she’d much rather go get cuddles from her favorite shady elephant than psychoanalyze these two psychos.

“Kay, bye!” Adore grins, slinging her backpack over her shoulder to meet Courtney at the front door.

Courtney looks exhausted, even if her makeup is totally perfect, and Adore is really, really worried for her. Her shoulders are a little too slumped, her hair is just a little too messy, her voice just a little too groggy… Adore hates it. She cannot wait for their night of relaxation to start.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait much longer. They get the text from their Uber, rush outside and climb in, then after a bumpy, curvy, wild ride from a seemingly normal driver, the roommates tumble out of the car a little worse for wear, but fine.

Courtney is the one to knock on the door of Darienne’s townhouse that lies at the very edge of the city. Bianca is the one to open it for them, holding a large glass of wine and wearing an expression of fondness and exasperation.

“It took you long enough,” the older woman snorts, “Even the fucking pizza guy beat you two.”

“Our Uber driver was probably insane,” Courtney sighs, accepting Bianca’s hug as she walks into the familiar home.

“Yanks!” Adore shouts before practically launching herself into Bianca’s arms, pressing her face into the crook of her friend’s neck, feeling warm and safe in the embrace.

Bianca runs a hand through Adore’s tangled, dyed-red hair, “Missed you too, bitch.”

Adore throws her head back in free, happy laughter, she’s definitely missed her best friend this week, and it feels so good to be with her again. The singer looks up to see Courtney leaning against Darienne, who looks just as tired as the rest of them. Adore is kind of excited to hear about why everyone’s just had a collectively sucky week or day. Those three are hilarious when ranting while drunk, and she could really use a good time.

Adore grabs Bianca’s hand so that they can go and join Courtney and Darienne in a nice, big group hug. They all hold onto each other tight, a firm reminder that their friendship is unshakable, and that one bad week can’t hurt any one of them.

They pull apart after a few minutes, then Adore looks out into the kitchen curiously.

“So… the pizza’s already here?” she asks cheekily.

“Go get your fucking food, you needy bitch, because once you’re done I’m going after your nasty hair,” Bianca says in her typical motherly way, reaching up to ruffle Adore’s hair.

Darienne rolls her eyes, “Hey, don’t take too much of my good wine either! I’m old, I’ve lived long enough to deserve it.”

Adore laughs out a “Yes, mom!” as she heads over to the kitchen, Courtney right behind her. Despite living in the same apartment, Adore doesn’t really get to see Courtney or talk to her as much as she wishes she could. Their schedules rarely line up, and Courtney has been spending more and more time out of town over the last couple months. Adore doesn’t think she would ever be able to say it out loud, but she’s terrified Courtney is going to move out of town with how much she’s been away lately.

And that would suck for so many fucking reasons! One, she’d have to find a fourth roommate, which, gross, talking to new people. Two, Courtney would be moving out. Three, Courtney wouldn’t even be in the same fucking city anymore! Adore doesn’t know what she’d do without being able to crawl into Courtney’s bed for cuddles at four a.m., or Courtney’s way too peppy early morning attitude. It would just suck.

Head spinning with worry, Adore grabs a couple pieces of the veggie pizza, then pours herself more wine then either of her old lady friends would approve of. Courtney follows behind her, the two lean against the kitchen counter, quietly enjoying each other’s company, eating pizza and sipping on wine.

Adore smiles when she hears Bianca and Darienne’s crazy laughing, and then giggles when the two of them tease each other as they storm into the kitchen.

“You two look pathetic,” Bianca says gruffly, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at them from the other side of the counter, “Let’s go watch Real Housewives or something, I wanna make fun of ugly bitches and I’ve already said all I can about everyone in this room.”

“Fine, but if anyone stains my sofas I’m going to lose my damn mind,” Darienne says, even though she’s already taking Adore and Courtney’s hands to lead them to her couches.

“Impossible, you lost your mind ten years ago,” Bianca retorts, sitting down on the end of the couch.

Darienne doesn’t say anything, but she’s laughing along with everyone else, and it’s really, really fucking good. After everyone’s situated on the couches, Adore curls up on the floor against Bianca’s legs, her cheek resting on her friend’s knees. Bianca absent mindedly runs her fingers through Adore’s matted, messy hair while Courtney and Darienne argue over what to watch.

“Ugh, your hair’s a mess, kid,” Bianca complains, “I can hardly put my fingers through it!”

“I’m too tired to brush it though,” Adore whines.

“Well I told you earlier I’d take care of it for you,” Bianca reminds her, trying not to smile at the way the younger perks up.

“Thank you…” Adore mumbles, her face pressed tight against Bianca’s knee.

Bianca smirks, “You gotta let me up though so I can get a hairbrush.”

“Nooooooo!”

“Then I can’t fix your hair, you lazy mermaid.”

“…Courtney?” Adore asks hopefully.

“I’m not getting up,” the Aussie says, snuggling further into the soft cushions of Darienne’s couch, her cheek resting on said friend’s shoulder.

“Count me out too,” Darienne says, her tiredness from the week extra heavy in her voice.

Adore groans and rolls off of Bianca’s legs, her back resting against the couch so that Bianca can get up. Bianca pats the top of Adore’s head before she gets up, and Adore’s eyes drift to the TV, which is playing some over dramatic reality show. It’s perfect for this kind of night.

Before she even has time to miss her Willow too much, Bianca is back and tugging the younger in between her legs so that she has a good angle to take care of the rats’ nest Adore is currently calling her hair. Darienne and Bianca start a back and forth banter over the craziness happening on screen, while Courtney intermittently interjects and Adore laughs along with her friends, immensely enjoying the gentleness of Bianca’s fingers and the methodic, soothing motions of the brush.

No one is sure when, but Adore quickly starts dozing off against Bianca’s legs, and only moves when Bianca tugs her up onto the couch. Adore winds up with her head in Bianca’s lap, and her long legs sprawled across Courtney’s and Darienne’s. They tease her a little at first, loving and good natured, but are quick to give it up once they realize she really is falling asleep in B’s lap.

“Poor kid is just completely worn out,” Bianca mutters as she works on an extra difficult knot.

Darienne sighs, “Yeah, one of those weeks for us all…”

“This was the first full week I’ve been home in months. I’m really glad to be back, but I think it’s just made me realize how tired I am from travelling,” Courtney admits.

Darienne squeezes her hand sympathetically, “Don’t overwork yourself, that’s how you turn out to be a bitter old bitch like Bianca and I.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bianca chortles, brushing Adore’s hair gently, “I was two times worse than you are, ya know, and I didn’t really have anyone around me telling me to calm down. So take the advice now, and maybe a vacation while you’re at it.”

Courtney smiles fondly at Bianca, and leans over a conked out Adore to give her a one-armed hug, “You are much more of a sweetheart than you want anyone to know.”

“You don’t gotta rub it in my face,” Bianca says with an eye roll.

“Oh no, we will be holding this over your head for the rest of time,” Darienne teases.

“You’re one to talk,” Courtney smirks, “And I’d say it’s less of a secret with you.”

Darienne feigns a scandalized expression, reaching up to grasp at her heart, “Courtney! How could you?” Courtney’s shoulders shake with laughter, causing her to accidentally jostle Adore, which in turn makes the youngest of the four groggily protest being woken.

“What the hell…?” Adore whines, her cheek squished against Bianca making her words almost unintelligible. Bianca pets through Adore’s hair to soothe her back to sleep while whispering to her, pointedly ignoring the looks from the other two ladies as she does so.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger,” Courtney says, nothing but awe and amusement in her voice.

“As long as she doesn’t figure it out I’ll be fine,” Bianca jokes, not denying it.

“From that first day at that damn club…” Darienne says, reminiscing already.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Bianca complains, wrinkling her nose, still detangling Adore’s hair even though it’s almost perfectly smooth now.

Courtney grins mischievously, “Remember how much you couldn’t stand me? Or Adore? I think Darienne you liked from the start, but that’s because she’s just your type of person.”

The older woman rolls her eyes fondly, “Yeah, I remember. You two were so fucking annoying, and if it hadn’t been for Darienne being the most tolerable bitch in the building I probably would’ve strangled someone.”

“That sounds about right,” Adore mumbles sleepily. The other three chuckle and Bianca brushes back Adore’s hair from her face.

“I remember hating all three of you immediately,” Darienne jokes, the others laughing along with her, “I only like people with good taste in makeup.”

Courtney gasps in faux offence, Adore sniggers into Bianca’s lap, and Bianca continues the banter, “What does it mean now that we’re your best friends?”

“That there’s still hope for you guys yet.”

Courtney nearly falls into Darienne’s lap from laughing so hard. Maybe they’re all over-doing it on the wine, but they’re having too much fun to consider slowing down. Courtney hasn’t felt so relaxed and happy in weeks, and she can’t help but to regret not calling Bianca sooner.

She sighs and curls closer into Darienne, “So what happened with you this week?”

Darienne hums boredly, “Just my boss being shitty, but what’s new? Oh, and that guy I met on Facebook turned out to be completely worthless.”

“It’s not your fault the people around you are awful,” Courtney says sympathetically, “You deserve better than anyone like them.”

“You know what? I do,” Darienne agress confidently.

“I’ll beat them up for you,” Adore offers, lifting her head up just enough to be heard.

“Now that’s a fight I’d like to see,” Bianca grins.

“I’ll send you addresses next week,” Darienne says, patting Adore’s calf, which is still sprawled across her lap.

“I love you, Darienne,” Adore sing-songs loudly.

“Bitch, stop moving so much I’m trying to fix your hair,” Bianca complains.

“I love you, too, Bia!”

Courtney rubs Adore’s back softly, “Awww, what about me?”

Adore quickly sits up, causing Bianca to grumble in surprise, and turns herself so she’s nose to nose with Courtney, “Courm, I love you so fucking much and I don’t know where I’d be without you so please, please don’t move out because I can’t function when you’re not around-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Courtney frowns, placing her hands on Adore’s shoulders to steady the younger girl, “Move out? What are you talking about?”

Adore’s eyes water, and she swallows hard, “I know you’re planning on moving out because you’re always out of town, and you’ve been getting a lot of mail from this one company, and I just… Please don’t go, Courtney.”

Courtney throws her arms around Adore’s neck and pulls her in for a tight, loving hug, “I’m not going anywhere, Adore. I promise. I’m sorry that it looks like I may be planning on moving out, but I swear I’m not.”

“Thank God,” Adore mumbles, snuggling closer to Courtney.

Bianca rolls her eyes, but they all know she really does find it sweet, “Alright, now that the mushy shit is sorted, Adore can you get your fucking knee off of my appendix?”

Adore rolls herself off the couch and onto the floor with a yelp, “I’m okay!”

Courtney giggles, “Bianca, appendixes are so old-fashioned. If you want I can recommend you a surgeon to get rid of that.”

“Of course you can, you cunt,” Bianca says, playfully slapping Courtney’s arm.

Adore looks up at her three very best friends. She wouldn’t trade them for the whole world, not ever. They’re too perfect, too perfect for someone like her, but somehow they’re still hers. So she’ll take what she can get, and accept it for what it is.

She loves them, and she knows they love her too.

#rpdr fanfiction #adore delano #courtney act #bianca del rio #darienne lake #abcd #biadore #fluff #light angst #lesbian au #cisgirl au #s6 #you rewrote my ending #candy cane #concrit welcome

32 notes · View notes

30secondfics · 4 years

Text

EAT OR BE EATEN (A/U) 6 OF 6

~ Author’s Note ~ “Before the renaissance we had the Black Plague.”

- @thekingoflegoland

Rated M

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5a > Part 5b > Part 6

Seattle, January 2021

Gabriella Torres stepped out of her rideshare and studied the house she stood in front of. A small shingled house, hunter green, the grass browned from the cool weather and the paint of the white front door chipped from years of neglect. She knocked.

A woman with a black lacquered cane opened the door with widened eyes, pale, as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Hi, I’m looking for Calliope Torres-”

“She doesn’t live here.“

“My name is Gabriella Torres. Aria Torres is my mother—was—my mother.”

The woman sighed and eyed the young woman. “You're a spitting image of your mother. Come in.”

The sunroom of the house was clean, sterilized. It still smelled of cleaning products and polish; it was well tended to, unlike the exterior of the house.

“Can I get you a coffee or a tea?” the woman asked.

“Water, please, if you wouldn’t mind,” Gabriella answered. She took the glass the woman offered her and took a generous sip.

“What did you say your name was again?” the woman asked, taking the seat in front of her guest and leaning her cane against the side table.

“Gabriella.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

The woman paused in thought.

“I’m sorry to come out of the blue, but I thought you would prefer meeting in person rather than starting a paper trail… Aunt Calliope.”

Calliope nodded in agreement and cleared her throat. “So how did you find me?”

“I just started grad school at the University of Washington, I’m doing my masters in library studies-”

“Impressive,” Callie nodded, glad and relieved to learn her niece was educated.

“Thank you. I was in foster care my whole life, you see, I knew nothing but my mother’s name. I swore to find her one day and I searched for her for years and years. Then, finally, I came across her obituary and I found out she lived in Miami… and, well, my research led me to you.”

“So you know who I am…” Callie cleared her throat and picked at the cotton of her pants.

“You’re Calliope Torres. You were the head of the Torres Crime family. You were responsible for the Miami Mob Massacre of 2013 when all of the heads of the city’s crime families were murdered.”

“Allegedly,” Callie corrected.

Gabriella nodded in agreement. “Early in 2014 the Feds gathered enough evidence to put you on trial-”

“Alex Karev and George O’Malley came forward and turned themselves in, in an attempt to put me away,” Callie informed. “Even after I paid them a very generous amount of money to leave town. It seemed that it wasn’t enough for two men who felt overpowered by a single woman.”

“You were on trial for 21 days,” Gabriella continued. “Until you were proven not guilty. After 21 days they were going to let you walk free, you were free—then you were showered with bullets on your way out of the Miami courthouse. A man named Robert Stark was arrested; he claimed you destroyed his life over unsettled debt.”

“And yet he’s still in jail and I am not,” Callie couldn’t help but smirk.

“My mother perished that day, and you were airlifted to Miami General with life-threatening injuries,” Gabriella added. “Some articles reported that you wouldn’t make it out alive, while others rumoured you would never fully recover. You were mentioned in the papers for months, until suddenly you weren’t. New leaders of the other crime families began to take their place, and new gang wars plagued Miami. By the time you walked out of the hospital a free woman, you were old news and the Torres empire had crumbled. You’ve been laying low ever since.”

Gabriella was nothing but correct in her explanation. The Torres empire crumbled, and it crumbled hard. In Callie’s absence, and Alex and George’s incarceration, other members of the corporation fought for themselves, fought amongst themselves, stole for themselves, until there was nothing left but a few skids of canned peaches scattered across the city. The Torres mansion was looted and then destroyed by opportunistic rival families. The Torres name became irrelevant. A name no longer feared. A name no longer remembered, despite the damage it did in the past decades. Bigger crimes flooded Miami, and though grudges still existed, seeking revenge against the Torres family was no longer a priority.

Callie remained silent. It had been years since she lived that life, it was hard to believe its vibrant contrast to the life she lived now.

“Sorry,” Gabriella brushed. “I was just searching for my mother, I didn’t mean to uncover so much more about you.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Callie reassured. “That was my past, and I will take what I did to my grave.”

Gabriella remained silent.

“So what do you want to know about your mother?” Callie asked.

Gabriella released a sigh with both grief and relief. Grief of the loss she had held in her heart for so long, and relief that she was finally going to get some answers.

“I want to know why my mother left me at the hospital that day, knowing she had the means to raise me.”

“I can’t answer for the dead,” Callie shook her head.

“I know that, but you at least knew her…”

“And I know giving you up was probably the best decision she could have made for you.”

“What?” Gabriella asked with furrowed brows. She spent her life in poverty. She was alone. She moved from foster home to foster home. The closest thing she has to a family is an old college roommate.

“My sister Aria was… impulsive. Especially when it came to money. She and my father would always clash on her irresponsible spendings. I believe she had you the year she just about had it with our father and so she disappeared for a year to travel across the country in a van with some friends. She was in no state to raise a child, even if we had the money.”

“But I grew up poor, without a family-” Gabriella began to argue.

“Do you think a crime family would have been any better?”

“Maybe,” Gabriella shrugged.

“It cost us your mothers life,” Callie reminded. “It nearly cost me mine.”

Gabriella remained silent.

“A life of riches is far from a fairytale when it’s funded with bloodmoney.”

Gabriella avoided her aunt’s eyes.

“So if it’s money you want from me I no longer have much of it,” Callie admitted.

“I don’t need money,” Gabriella promised. “I just wanted answers.”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer anymore than that,” Callie replied. “I didn’t even know my sister had you until this morning.”

“Would you have stepped in if you knew back then?” Gabriella asked.

Callie paused in thought. “Probably not,” she answered honestly. She believed the mob was no place for a child.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Callie glanced at the clock.

“Then I won’t take up much more of your time,” Gabriella promised and stood from her seat. “Thank you for your time.”

Callie simply nodded.

“Can I ask how you found out where I live?” Callie asked before the younger woman could leave.

Gabriella signed. “Seattle Grace held a Gala last week. I was sorting the newspaper section of the library when I saw your face. Your hair is much shorter now but I had studied the family so much I recognized you right away… it wasn’t hard after I ran a search for you in Seattle.”

“What newspaper published that article?” Callie needed to know: if her niece could recognize her, how many more people could.

“Seattle Local. Don’t worry, I’ve already shredded as many copies of the paper as I could find,” Gabriella reassured.

“Thank you,” Callie sighed in relief.

“Can I ask you one last question before I go?” Gabriella asked.

“You just did.”

“Do you think there are people out there who still want you dead?” Gabriella proceeded to ask.

“I know there is,” Callie nodded. “Dozens of them.”

“How do you bear it? How do you live in fear?”

“I don’t,” Callie answered confidently. “Knowing my life could end at any moment is what makes every day so worth living.”

000

There was one part of Gabriella’s story that was missing; one part of the Calliope Torres story that was very private and protected from the public eye. Down a long hallway, two feet and a cane dully tread across grey terrazzo floors. The door at the end of the hall held a plaque, yielded the Seattle Grace Hospital logo and the title Chief of Surgery. She opened the door.

Large windows letting in lights from the Seattle Skyline also enclosed the spacious and personalized office. The walls were decorated with various frames, some with photos, others with accomplishments and awards. One of which was the 2014 Carter Madison Grant and a photo of a small clinic in Mawali.

Arizona Robbins glanced up from her laptop and over reading glasses arched a single eyebrow.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Callie apologised.

Arizona smirked and motioned for her lover to come closer with finger.

Callie rounded the cherrywood desk and gave her wife a kiss.

“Hmm,” Arizona hummed with satisfaction.

“Missed you.” She said this every day.

“Missed you too,” Arizona replied with a smile. “How was your day?” she asked, pushing her chair back to make room for her wife.

“Well…” Callie leaned her cane against the desk and pushed the laptop back to sit on her wife’s desk, “I had a visitor at the house today.”

“A visitor?” Arizona repeated, intrigued. “We haven’t had a visitor in a very long time. Who was kind enough to send you a hitman this time?” she asked sarcastically.

“Not an assassin,” Callie informed with a small smirk. A very small part of her missed when an assassin or two would shake up their home. It had been so quiet the past few years since they moved to Seattle, Callie could almost say she was starting to get bored. She and Arizona had become so good at silently putting hitmen away; they made great fertiliser for the flowers in the back garden.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it turns out I have a niece. It looks like Aria forgot to mention she had a kid twenty-two years ago.”

“No way…”

“She looks just like her, Arizona, if she’s a con artist she sold it really well.”

“How’d she find you?”

“She saw a photo of me in a local paper, from the Gala.”

“Oh, Calliope… I didn’t know you’d be photographed.”

“It’s fine,” Callie shrugged. “I’m sort of glad she found me. It was nice talking about Aria again.”

“Are you going to keep in touch?”

“I didn’t want her to feel obligated to keep in contact. She’s a smart girl, she’ll come back if she wants to.”

Arizona gave her wife a sympathetic smile.

“Anyways, tell me about your day…” Callie encouraged her wife.

“I think I’d rather save the talking for later,” Arizona said with a smirk.

“Oh…” Callie chuckled and moaned when her wife pressed their lips together. Arizona’s hands were on her waist and they slowly made their way up her shirt as they kissed.

“You called for me, Doctor Robbins?” Callie teased, between kisses.

“I did, and you’re late,” Arizona played along. She loved her wife for a hundred million reasons, and one of them included how ungodly good she was at getting her off.

“I’m awfully sorry,” Callie apologised in her bedroom voice.

“Y-you’d better be,” Arizona gasped when her wife’s mouth wrapped around the skin on her neck and began to suck. “D-don’t leave a mark…” she scolded, “again.”

Callie smirked and slipped her hand into the white lab coat and down the navy blue scrub top. She cupped her wife’s breast; soft, warm, and a bit more plump than she remembered.

Arizona felt wetness begin to grow between her legs. Slick. Heat. Then a gush of fluid like the breaking of a damn.

“Callie!” Arizona shrieked.

“Arizona...” Callie gasped when she felt the wetness run down her leg, “was that?”

“I think my water just broke,” Arizona said with widened eyes.

“It’s a good thing we’re already at a hospital,” Callie chuckled and took her wife by the hand before leading her towards the maternity ward to have their baby.

Callie and Arizona rushed down the aisle, hand-in-hand, away from the altar where Elvis stood to officiate. With no family left between the two of them, they spent their wedding night celebrating their rather spontaneous wedding with a rather expensive bottle of wine and room service.

Overlooking the city of Las Vegas, a city also once ruled by crime families such as the Torres’s, Callie held Arizona in her arms as they watched the night lights.

“I never pictured myself getting married,” Arizona admitted softly.

“You’re telling me this now?” Callie arched her eyebrow, taking hold of Arizona’s hand that was now weighed down by a wedding band.

“No, Calliope, I mean… I never pictured myself getting married in the white dress and large crowd. But this… this was perfect.”

“Oh…” Callie smiled mischievously and planted a hot kiss on her wife’s neck.

“Callie!” Arizona squinted her eyes and stopped walking.

“Breathe…” Callie coached.

“I am breathing,” Arizona gritted through her teeth, freezing for a couple of minutes before gathering up the strength to walk again.

“We’re almost there,” Callie reassured.

Arizona puffed air out of her cheeks and followed her wife’s lead. Moments later, she found herself on a hospital bed, monitors attached to her belly and her wife by her side.

“Push,” Arizona encouraged.

Callie let out a long grunt as she pushed against the resistance band that Arizona was holding behind her. She took three bullets in her arm, two in the gut, and one in her femur which left her with a permanent limp. She had accepted her fate of the cane, but she had yet to give up on rehabilitating her dominant hand.

“Good,” the physiotherapist praised. “You’re really motivated today!”

“Motivated to use my good hand in bed again,” Callie pushed against the purple band again.

“Callie!” Arizona gasped, not impressed with her lover’s vulgarness in front of the physiotherapist.

The therapist couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s good to have goals.”

“Let’s see how your baby is doing…” Doctor Carina DeLuca snapped on a clean glove and placed herself between the patient’s legs. “Oh…”

“What?” Callie and Arizona said in unison.

“When did you say your contractions began?” Carina asked.

“I guess, this morning…” Arizona thought out loud.

“This morning?” Callie repeated with disbelief. Her wife had been in labour all day and she didn’t receive a single text of mention.

“I thought it was just a stomach ache from all the poundcake I ate for breakfast.” Arizona admitted.

“Did you eat the whole coffee cart too?” Callie teased.

“I only had three...” Arizona defended, “this time.”

“Move to Seattle with me,” Arizona said, her head nestled on her wife’s chest. Las Vegas streets were loud but she could still hear Callie’s pounding heartbeat.

“Seattle?”

“They’ve offered me a job as an attending… if I accept it, we can have our own life there. Just you and me, far away from the craziness in Miami. You don’t belong there anymore, we don’t belong there anymore. We both need a new start, somewhere we can raise a family.”

“You want kids?” Callie asked, surprised. With all the commotion, they forgot to talk about having children.

“I want a family, whatever that may look like. I’ve never had one and I want one with you.”

“You can start pushing on your next contraction,” Doctor DeLuca instructed.

“Callie, I’m scared,” Arizona told her wife.

“You’ve made it this far, Arizona, I believe in you.”

“What if we lose this baby too?”

“We can’t think like that right now, Arizona, you need to focus on having this baby, okay?”

Arizona nodded her head and grunted as she pushed as hard as she could.

The house was so quiet.

With Lucy’s passing, there was no longer pitter patter of paws against the hardwood as she played around the house. Now their house filled with the noise of Arizona turning the page of her newspaper, and Callie watching car review videos on her phone.

“You think it’s too soon to get another dog?” Arizona asked.

“I don’t know if I want another dog,” Callie admitted.

“Can I finally have my chicken coop, then?”

“No…” Callie slowly shook her head.

“Well, we’re certainly not getting a ferret, Calliope-”

“I’ve been thinking… it’s a good time to have a baby.”

Arizona’s face brightened into a smile. “A baby?” she breathed out.

Callie nodded, “A baby.”

“Your baby is almost here…” Carina announced.

“Really?” Arizona phanted.

“Do you want the mirror?”

“Oh god, no,” Arizona shook her head in denial.

Callie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Arizona scolded her wife. “You owe me a new vagina after this!”

“I’m sorry…” the doctor repeated herself. “Please stay and use the room for as long as you need to.”

“Thank you,” Arizona nodded at the doctor and continued to console her wife.

Callie watched the doctor leave with blank eyes. The news hurt her more than she thought it would. She didn’t even know she wanted kids until she married Arizona, and now that she found out she couldn’t, she was heartbroken. Her life of crime, the bullets of revenge, had already taken her sister from her; she was saddened to learn it also took away her chance of having children of her own.

“What do you need from me?” Arizona said softly.

“I don’t know,” Callie shook her head.

“I’ll have them, Calliope, I want to have them,” Arizona offered for the hundredth time.

“I…” Callie gulped to rid of the dryness in her throat, “I thought we could have some of yours and some of mine too.”

“Oh, Calliope…” Arizona sighed in defeat. “It would have been amazing to have a little you running around the house, but I promise you they will be our babies no matter what.”

“She’s here…” Carina announced.

“It’s a girl?” Callie asked with surprise, relief and excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“It’s a girl,” Carina confirmed.

Callie and Arizona smiled at the crying infant. Carina placed the child on Arizona’s chest and Callie wrapped her arms around her family. She was so little yet so loud, and mighty. Her hands were bronze like a Torres and her eyes were blue like a Robbins. She was there and she was theirs.

“I love you…”

“What?” Callie said past dry lips. She thought she would never see Arizona Robbins again, let alone have her visit her hospital room every day for the past three months.

“I love you,” Arizona nodded her head. She had known, deep down, for a long time. But she was at the airport, ready to leave for Africa, ready to truly move on from her tango with the mob and start a new life, a new clinic, for children in a new land, Malawi, when she saw the Torres heir fall to the ground in front of the courthouse. She hated that she had to see Calliope Torres get shot multiple times on television to realise it. She loved the notorious boss and she couldn’t leave Miami without her.

“Arizona, you can’t-”

“You’re not my boss, Calliope, you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do anymore-”

“No, Arizona, you need someone... normal,” Callie defended her stance. “Someone who can give you the easy life you deserve. Someone who doesn’t have a past-”

“I know your past, Calliope, and I know the kind of woman you are deep down. Do you think it was easy to let someone else run my clinic in Africa, to turn down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity so I can spend three months in this hospital with you? I know love isn’t easy, but I choose it because—because life without it is dull and cold.”

Callie eyed her lover.

“I know there are people who want you dead...” Arizona continued, “that danger will follow you, but—why live in fear when we can take our chances at being happy?”

“Jeez, okay, enough with the dramatics,” Callie teased.

Arizona gasped, offended, then laughed. Her speech was quite cheesy.

“I love you too. I’ve known for a while,” Callie admitted. “But I want what’s best for you. That’s why I let you go...”

“And I know what I want,” Arizona countered. “That’s why I came back...”

Callie cradled baby Sofia as Arizona finally fell asleep in her hospital bed. Sofia had that intoxicating new baby smell and Callie soaked in every minute of it. Swaddled in her hospital blanket, Sofia was content and happy to be in her mother’s arms.

Callie glanced at Arizona and watched her peacefully rest. She deserves it. Arizona let out a soft snore and it made Callie smile. Her mob career started in her father’s hospital room. Her love for Arizona blossomed in her hospital room. Now their middle family had grown by one in the hospital room.

Callie Torres was working in a cubicle, in an office, on a floor, in a building full of cubicles. She was the daughter of a notorious crime boss and she was in an office working a nine-to-five desk job. Despite her upbringing, she went to college. She attended Penn State, the first in her family to go to college. She told herself that she needed space from the mob, but deep down she knew she left home because she resented her father for not being a good husband to her mother. Over a decade later, she still blamed him for making Lucia Torres flee. So Callie moved away, to a city where nobody knew her name, and for four years she studied literature, made an honest living, and lived a modest lifestyle. She was set. She had financial independence from her father and no ties to the life he lived.

Until a single phone call changed her projection. She came back to Miami after years of avoiding the city and the chaos within it. Giovanni sent one of the drivers to pick her up at the airport and she felt helpless in the backseat of the Cadillac. She hated it: the feeling of being the young woman with no independence, thanks to the nature of the family business. There was a reason why she moved out: to be able to do things on her own.

The short car ride felt like hours, but soon she was at Miami General: pushing through a crowd of news reporters hoping to get information and FBI agents hoping to find dirt that will finally warrant the arrest of the biggest mob boss in the city. The FBI were always around—ever since Carlos himself was a child—but they could never find enough evidence to take the family court. Thus, they tried to get close whenever they could. It disgusted Callie. Her father was ill and all people cared about was exposing him.

She ran to his bedside the moment she squeezed past the door and took his hand into her own.

“Calliope…” he coughed up.

“I’m here, papa.” Callie soothed, combing what was left of his hair with her fingers.

“You came home,” Carlos smiled.

“Of course I did. You take it easy, okay?”

Carlos closed his eyes and nodded his head. He was weak, and he drifted off to sleep shortly.

“Miss Torres?” a soft knock came from the door. “I’m Dr. Teddy Altman, your father’s surgeon.”

Callie turned around and stood to politely shake the woman’s hand. “Call me Callie,” she insisted. “Can you tell me what happened? ”

“Callie…” Teddy sighed, “From the looks of things, your father has had heart failure for years.”

“He’s never mentioned it...” Callie insecurely crossed her arms, “Is he going to make it?”

“He’s responding to the ‘tropes, the medications we’re giving him, but that’s all I can say for now.”

“Is he going to make it?” Callie repeated.

“It’s hard to say…” Teddy trailed off, “But I can tell you that we’re doing everything we can.”

“Is he going to be treated just like everyone else?” Callie asked. She knew the doctor wasn’t oblivious to who she was taking care of. A high-profile man like Carlos Torres drew attention wherever he went.

“We provide treatment solely based on the patient’s clinical needs...” Teddy promised, “without moral discrimination.”

She stayed by her father’s side—only going home to get cleaned up and sleep. When she wasn’t tending to him, she was making sure his casinos were running smoothly. She became a frequent customer at the cafeteria, and even the girl at the coffee cart knew how she took her coffee. She didn’t know if it was love or guilt that made her stay by her father’s side. She felt guilty that she had deserted the family, all those years ago. And if she didn’t keep her head down that day, she would have ran into the blonde-haired blue-eyed surgical resident that stood in front of her while she waited for her coffee.

“How are the casinos?” Carlos asked one day, when he had the strength.

“Don’t worry about them,” Callie insisted, “I’ve made sure Alex and George stay on track; you just work on getting better.”

“You’re getting involved with our operations?”

“Yes, it’s fine, everything is fine.”

“You know, I always thought it would be you that I’d leave the casinos to…”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t cut-out to be a boss,” Callie hung her head in shame.

“Don’t say that, mija, I’m so proud of you,” Carlos admitted.

“You are?” Callie questioned softly.

“Always,” Carlos promised. “My smart, beautiful, girl.”

Callie wiped the tears that trickled down her cheeks and held onto her father’s hand.

Later that evening, Callie was leaving her father’s room to go home when she realized the watchman that usually guarded the door was not at his post. She grabbed her phone to call Giovanni and sighed in relief when he told her that he would fire the man for leaving his post and send over another member of his security team immediately.

In the meantime, Callie waited by her father. It was highly unlikely that any harm would come, but she still had an unsettling feeling in her gut—which amplified when she heard the door open, and she turned her head in time to see a grey-haired man.

“You must be his little girl,” he chuckled.

“What do you want?” Callie asked harshly.

“Well…” he shrugged his shoulders, his hands in his pockets. “I’m here to take him out. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, but now that you’re here... I don’t have much of a choice.”

Callie stood from her seat and took a step back. She was scared—initially— then anger sparked within her. Suddenly, she wanted to get him before he could get her or her father. She quickly weighed out her options. She was unarmed, and had been for years. She knew he had a gun, she could see the outline in his pants. She glanced around the room and in a matter of seconds she had a plan.

She grabbed the flower vase from the nightstand behind her and threw it across the room. Distraction. He lifted his hands to block the glass from hitting his face, and she rammed her right shoulder into his sternum, pinning him against the wall. Attack. The impact caused a couple of his ribs to break, and the noise of the vase shattering onto the floor caused the nurses to start peering into the window. He was able to strike her cheek with the gun, causing the skin to break, but she didn’t feel the pain. Her adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she wanted nothing more than to see him dead.

“Bitch,” he spat, trying to point the gun at her head, but bone-breaking strength pinned his body against the wall. The Torres heir was stronger than he thought.

Callie groaned and struck her elbow against his windpipe. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound of his cartilage breaking from impact. At this point, he was still alive, but the injury to his neck narrowed his trachea and he struggled to take the faintest breath of air. So Callie stepped back, letting him fall to the floor, and she kicked the gun out of his hand. She glanced back, her father was still asleep. She looked forward, the nurses had called security and they were waiting outside the door. She opened it, stepped outside, and a nurse walked to her side.

“You want me to look at that, Miss Torres?” the nurse asked.

“Look at what?” Callie mindlessly asked, still in shock from the events that took place moments ago.

“Your cheek is bleeding…”

Callie took a seat on a nearby chair, exhausted. She couldn’t believe it. She won her first fight.

“What should we do with him?” one of the security guards asked, wanting to be of assistance but also not wanting to get too involved with the mob.

“Leave him. Someone will be here to clean up shortly,” Callie sighed. It was only now that the blood from her cheek trickled down her neck that she realized she was bleeding. “I’m sorry for the noise…” she told the hospital staff, and the few patients that watched the scene unfold, “But nobody saw anything, right?”

All watching eyes turned away and went about minding their own business. Except the nurse who had offered to help, she had gone to get a dressing kit and returned to tend to Callie’s injury.

When Carlos Torres came to consciousness and learned of his daughter’s doings, that Callie was managing the casinos quite well and taking care of business in his absence, he knew what to do before his inevitable death. With her father’s ring on her finger, Callie Torres took her place behind the desk in the office she was forbidden to be in at her childhood home.

“I can’t believe she’s home…”

“I can’t believe she’s ours…”

Callie and Arizona cooed at the sleeping infant in the crib.

“We should go to bed and get some sleep while we can,” Arizona suggested. “She’ll be up wanting a feeding before we know it.”

“You go to sleep before she needs you. I’ll stay up a little longer, just in case she needs anything else...” Callie volunteered.

“We’re across the hall, Calliope, she’ll be okay on her own for an hour or two,” Arizona promised.

“I don’t mind,” Callie insisted.

“Come to bed with me, please?” Arizona pleaded.

“Arizona, I…”

“What is it, love?” Arizona asked, placing a soft hand on her wife’s arm.

“I think I’m scared…”

“She’s safe here,” Arizona promised.

“What if something bad were to happen to her, to us, to our family? I don’t want her out of my sight. I know you we’ve been safe here but you know my past-”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with your past, Calliope,” Arizona couldn’t help but smile. “That’s called being a mother. We’re going to worry about her for the next eighteen years, at least. We’ll have eighteen years to worry about her so please, can we go to bed for now?”

Callie sighed then nodded her head in agreement. Why live in fear when we can take a chance at being happy? She had chosen happiness these past few years, she took a vow to choose happiness with Arizona. Now she vowed this: if anyone laid a finger on her baby, she would hurt them before they could hurt Sofia.

FIN.

#multi #calzona #callie torres #arizona robbins #calzonafic #au #cougarsbait

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beautifultypewriter · 4 years

Text

Flower Girl ~ Morgana Pendragon

Requested: Yes / by Anonymous

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,264

Pairing: Morgana Pendragon x fem!reader

Summary: Reader makes her living by selling flowers in Camelot’s market. She always has something special for the Lady Morgana.

A/N: Okay, so technically some of these flowers would not be found in this region, but we are in a land of myth and a time of magic, so I’m gonna do what I want. Also the symbolism of the flowers is real, but I made up the little stories that go with them.

Tags: @hahaboop

You were up before the sun, yawning as you pulled yourself out of bed and over to your small wardrobe. Flipping through your same fives dresses, you grabbed the light blue one and moved to get changed. You knew that you had to be up early if you wanted to make enough money at the market, but you really did hate having to get out of bed before it was even light out. You yawned again as you ate a quick breakfast of bread and fruit. Then you grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist, moving to the back door of your home. The sun was just starting to peek over the far-off trees, and you smiled as its rays reflected off the morning dew on your flowers. With a pair of shears in hand, you stepped over to your rose bush and started cutting only the perfect blossoms. After gathering a handful of roses, you moved over to your basket, laying them gently within the woven cane. Then you moved to your tulips, your daisies, and your gardenias. Once your basket was full, you set it down and walked further into your garden, your shears clutched tightly in your hand still.

You made it to the flower boxes that you had been looking for and kneeled down, scanning the flowers with your eyes. Finding the perfect one, you smiled to yourself as you cut the ideal length of stem and made your way back to your basket. You nestled the special flower at the side of your basket, wanting to keep it hidden, so that no other customers would try to buy it once you made it to market. Nodding to yourself, you held the handle of the basket in the crook of your elbow and went back into your home. On your way to the front door, you grabbed a small leather pouch from the table, looping its drawstrings onto your belt.

The walk to the market was a quick one, and you were glad to see that your usual spot was still empty. It was just past the beginning of the market, so you would be one of the first vendors seen by people entering the space. Which really was perfect for you, as you didn’t sell necessities, so it was important that you appeal to people early on in their shopping. Gliding over to your spot on the side of the pathway, you smiled at everyone who passed you by, holding out your basket and spinning a yarn about each bud and all the possibilities it could bring into people’s lives. You were a fairly good storyteller and that ability had helped you greatly with your sales. Who doesn’t want to hear a magical story about how a single flower can change your life?

“Hello, Y/N.” You twirled around, your dress flaring out slightly at the bottom, to see your favorite customer smiling at you. Lady Morgana was the picture of beauty and you looked forward to seeing her every day. She always loved to listen to your flower stories and she always ended up purchasing nearly half your basket, claiming that you grew the most beautiful flowers in all of Camelot. Which never failed to make you blush.

You bowed your head, a grin spreading over your lips, “My lady.” As you lifted your head again, you saw the disapproval on her face, and you giggled.

She smiled again, “What do you have for me today?”

Reaching into the basket, you moved your tulips aside, “I actually have something very special today,” your eyes flickered to her, seeing her eyebrows raise, and you pulled out the flower you had hidden, “I’ve been waiting weeks for these to bloom and they finally have.” You held the flower up for her to see, “Camellia. I thought you’d appreciate their beauty.”

Her smile widened as she stared at the flower, “It’s beautiful.” She reached out and ran her lithe fingers over the soft petals, “How much?” She looked up at you.

Shaking your head, you held the flower out to her, “It’s on me.”

She took the flower from you, her smile dropping, “Oh, Y/N, I couldn’t.” She reached for her purse, but you held your hand up.

“Please.” She looked at you and you smiled softly, “It’s a gift.”

She nodded as she pulled the flower closer to her chest, “So does it have a story?” She was smiling at you again and you were sure that your heart was singing.

“Of course, it does,” you leaned closer to her, “and it happens to be one of my absolute favorites.” Morgana’s eyes lit up as you cleared your throat, “A fisherman was counting his catch by the riverside when a young woman broke out of the trees and nearly tripped into the river, but the fisherman caught her before she could hit the water. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and it was love at first sight.” You paused, so that you could see what Morgana thought so far. She was still smiling as she stared at you intently. She nodded for you to continue, so you did, “They met along the river every night for a week after that, falling deeper in love with every meeting. But then,” Morgana’s smile slipped slightly as her eyes widened, and you sighed, “She revealed that she was promised to another and that she had to leave.” You looked off to the side, “He was heartbroken, so he plucked a beautiful flower from the riverside and presented it to her, telling her that she would always be the flame in his heart.” You looked back to Morgana, your smile tinted with sadness, “And she left. And every night until the day he died, he went down to the riverside and plucked that same flower, the camellia, and sent it down the river as a symbol of his longing for her.”

Morgana reached out and held your hand closely, “That was so beautiful.” She looked down at the flower and you noticed that her cheeks were starting to turn pink.

You coughed, “Yes,” you reached up and rubbed the back of your neck, “I thought you would like it.”

She looked up at you, “I loved it. Thank you, Y/N.” She stared directly into your eyes; her lips parted slightly. Then she was reaching into your flower basket. She pulled a gardenia out, “What of this flower? Does it have a story?”

With a nod, you switched your basket to your other arm, “Yes and it is a much happier one, I think.” She looked up at you, her head tilted to one side. Smiling at her, you glanced at the flower in her hand, “Two lovers,” your eyes met hers again, “weren’t supposed to be together, but they denied that notion and used gardenias to mark their secret meeting places. Now they’re a symbol of secret love.”

Morgana reached for her purse, “I’ll take two.” She placed some coins in your hand as you thanked her and then handed her a second gardenia. She twirled one of the gardenias in between her fingers, looking down at the spinning petals. Then she looked up at you, and reached up to tuck the flower behind your ear, “Until tomorrow then?” You were frozen to your spot, not being able to do anything except stare at her smile. She brought the other gardenia and the camellia close to her nose, inhaling their scents as she slowly rocked back and forth.

You nodded, “Until tomorrow.”

#morgana x reader #morgana pendragon x reader #morgana imagine #morgana pendragon imagine #bbc merlin imagine

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zamoimagines · 4 years

Text

This Means War

Word Count: 3,769

Pairings: Venable x Reader, Cordelia x Reader

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re sent to Outpost 3 on behalf of the coven with Coco to protect Mallory. A spell is put over you so that you forget anything you ever knew of being a witch, including all of your memories of your girlfriend, Cordelia. Without the Supreme and being confined to the Outpost after a nuclear missile launch, you feel empty for what seems to be no reason at all. That’s until a new woman, Miss Wilhelmina Venable takes an interest in you.

A/N: You sluts are gonna live for this shit. I’m extremely proud of this chapter, and I’m excited for you guys to read it. Let me know what ya’ll think ;)

The Outpost was a much warmer place with Venable by your side. When you had first arrived, this seemed like the coldest place on Earth. Lifeless. Depressing. That kiss had changed everything. Suddenly, the corridors seemed much brighter. You were so much nicer and talkative toward the other residents. Hell, the mineral cubes even tasted better. Love had such a wonderful effect on you. It was noticeable that Wilhelmina was becoming happier too. She’d stopped yelling at every little thing, and she’d even become much more lenient. It was obvious when she merely started laughing at one of Coco’s hissy fits.

“This whole place is bullshit! I swear to fucking god if you don’t get me some decent shampoo, I’m going to lose my fucking mind!” she screamed.

All Venable could do was chuckle to herself. No harsh words, no punishments. Just laughter. When Wilhelmina left the room, the blonde looked at you with a crazed expression.

“What the shit just happened?”

“Perhaps she’s just loosening up a little.” You shrugged to her.

Coco squinted her eyes. “There’s something weird going on… I can smell it.”

“No, you can smell that disgusting perfume you’ve been wearing.” Mr. Gallant retorted.

Coco shrieked as you tried hard not to giggle. Mr. Gallant was already cackling. Mallory, one of the Greys that often joined in their conversations, was trying her best not to be unprofessional. You could see a smile crack on her face.

“I will fucking end you!”

“Oh, I’m shaking, really!” He mocked. The three of them had become entertaining to you, rather than annoying like they had always been. You might have even considered them to be good friends of yours now.

The Outpost was starting to finally feel like home. Every night after all the others drifted off to sleep, you would sneak off to Venable’s room to sleep in her chambers. Some nights were just as steamy as the first you’d spent with her. Others were gentler, in which you would stay up all night listening to her read to you or talk about everything and nothing. Wilhelmina was slowly becoming your other half. It didn’t take long for you to completely forget about the mysterious woman that had been haunting your dreams months before.

Everything was growing to some sort of normal. You could admit that you were finally happy once again.

One night, you entered Venable’s room excited to see her after a long day of her working. She’d stayed distant all day but you just figured that she was busy doing things for the Cooperative. You put on the prettiest smile for her.

“Mina!” you sang out as you closed the door behind you. “I missed you at dinner-”

You were caught off guard. Usually, when you came at night, her eyes would sparkle. This was much different. She wouldn’t even meet your gaze. The redhead was pacing back and forth, her silk robe dragging heavily behind her. She hadn’t even taken her hair down yet. Something was most definitely wrong.

Slowly, you made your way up to her and touched her shoulder gently.

“Mina? Are you okay?”

Her face was ridden with fear. You had never seen her this disturbed before.

“Someone’s coming, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” you replied, “I thought no one else was alive?”

“The head of the Cooperative is arriving tomorrow. He intends to conduct interviews on everyone that resides here… All of the Greys, the other residents, Mead, you and I-” She bit her lower lip nervously. “Something isn’t right. I can feel it.”

You took her hand into your own. Placing a soft kiss to her knuckles, you managed to get her to crack a small grin.

“Y/N- You’re so good to me.” Wilhelmina pulled you in close and let her arms wrap around you tightly. You rested your head in her neck.

“You must promise me something.”

“What is it?”

Her chin leaned gently against your hair. “Promise me you won’t go to your interview. I don’t care if this man is running this facility. I don’t trust him, and I have to keep you safe.” She gazed down at you as her hand cupped your cheek.

“Promise me that you’ll stay away from him. No matter what he says, no matter how persistent he is, you must promise me that you will not partake in an interview.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Seeing Venable this shaken up was scaring you. Wilhelmina Venable, fearless leader of the Apocalypse, was showing an emotion you’d never seen from her before; fright. Wilhelmina was frightened. If this woman was worried, then you were completely terrified.

“I-I promise, Mina.”

Wilhelmina pulled you into another tight hug.

“I’m going to do everything to keep you safe, Y/N. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You wholeheartedly believed her. You trusted Venable with your life.

The next morning, everyone was up at the crack of dawn. Venable was back to her strict ways. It was very obvious to you that she was tense, and you were sure that the others could tell something was up.

“Venable, it’s too early for this shit-”

“Ms. Vanderbilt, I will NOT stand for your catty remarks. If you so much as breathe near me, so help me, I will have you in a straight jacket for the rest of your stay here. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone was very taken aback. Coco couldn’t even reply. She just remained completely silent the rest of the morning.

A couple hours later, Venable called a mandatory meeting in the common room. Everyone did as they were told and made their way down immediately. No one wanted to be on her bad side today. You sat on the couch in the spot closest to where Venable was standing. Her posture was rigid, almost as cold as the day you met her. You wanted nothing more than to comfort her.

“As many of you may know, the Cooperative is running our operation. We are forever in debt to them for saving all of our lives. We should feel lucky out of all the people in the world, we were the ones they showed mercy to,” she began, “We should also feel honored that the head of the Cooperative has decided to pay us a visit. May I present to you all Mr. Langdon, our savior.”

From the shadows, a well dressed man slithered his way by Wilhelmina. He had long hair, ice blue eyes, and an evil smile. Something in your gut told you this man was bad news. He almost made you want to flee for some odd reason. He made your blood boil and you barely even knew him.

“Hello.” He greeted everyone in a sly tone, “I’m Michael Langdon. I’m here for the next phase of business.”

“Business?” Coco piped up. “What business is there? The world ended.”

Venable shot a deadly look at her. Mr. Gallant surprisingly spoke up as well.

“She’s got a point. What else can there be?”

Michael flashed a smile to the pair.

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, this facility was only meant to be temporary. Our mission was to gather the lost souls that may survive all of the nuclear fallout,” he began, “You are the lost souls we needed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Coco muttered.

“It means that some of you will be coming with me to your new facility. A true safe haven. I will conduct an interview with each resident… And I expect all of you to speak with me.” He paused for a moment to gaze down at you. You could feel his piercing gaze, almost as if he could see right through your soul. You didn’t dare to make eye contact with him. All of a sudden, you felt a finger lift your chin.

His eyes were locked on you. Michael was studying you rather intently, making sure not to miss a single detail of your features. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Venable’s fingers twitching upon her cane. Her teeth were clenched tight together as she tried hard not to show any sort of weakness toward you.

“You look familiar… Don’t I know you from somewhere, little one?” Michael cooed as he brushed your hair behind your ear. His touch made you want to vomit.

“Ms. Y/L/N was one of the first to arrive. She doesn’t remember anyone from before the apocalypse.” Venable cut in.

“I see.” Michael’s gaze lingered. There was something about him, something absolutely foul. You knew him from somewhere. Langdon radiated malice and hate. His intentions were cruel rather than merciful.

“Will everyone go to the safe haven?” Dinah asked.

Michael left your side to step to the others. You were glad Dinah spoke when she did.

“Not all of you will be eligible. If your interview goes well, then expect a desirable outcome. If you don’t pass…” He grinned to himself. “Then you’ll be left behind.”

“Left behind as in stay here?” Coco laughed in disbelief, “I can’t be here! Not when there’s a utopia waiting for us!”

“Let’s hope you meet the requirements so you don’t stay and rot.”

His remark made Coco’s face twist in disgust. All of you were completely terrified.

“Interviews will begin immediately. Are there any volunteers to go first?”

Everyone remained silent. His head snapped in your direction.

“How about you, little one?”

Anxiety rushed over you as Venable’s eyes widened in horror. You opened your mouth to say something, though someone else spoke instead.

“I’ll go first!” Mr. Gallant cried out. You glanced over in his direction.

“I wanna get this over with anyway. Let me go.”

Michael raised a brow. “Very well. The rest of you may be dismissed.”

The man returned to the shadows to make his way to the spare office waiting for him. You mouthed a “thank you” to Mr. Gallant. He gave you a sympathetic smile before following Michael upstairs.

Once everyone had dispersed, you were alone with Venable. Wilhelmina instantly sat down next to you.

“Are you alright, my darling?”

“Mina, there is something just awful about him.”

“I know, my love.” She murmured as she gave you a tight hug. “I have a plan to get us out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, we can’t stay here. We’ll die if we don’t go.”

“But where will we go?”

“I know where the safe haven is. If we travel by foot and don’t stop, we’ll be there in two days.”

“Mina, what about radiation poisoning? What will we do about food? What if we die out there-”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you want to live, you’re going to have to trust me.”

This was too much to take in all at once. On one hand, going outside of the Outpost was incredibly dangerous. Though staying inside would get you killed eventually. You realized that you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Okay. Tell me what to do.” You replied.

Her lips barely touched your ear as she whispered to you.

“Stay out of Langdon’s sight. I’ll keep him away from you as long as I can, but whatever you do, do not let him conduct an interview.” She squeezed your hand, “Halloween is tomorrow. Langdon wants us to have a celebration, we’ll sneak out while the party is happening.”

“What about the others?”

“Never mind them. Make sure to gather your things tonight, and pack light. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

You nodded to her. She kissed your cheek lovingly as a single tear fell from her eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

Your lips found her own as you kissed her. It was long, almost bittersweet.

“I love you too, Mina.”

-----

You weren’t sure how you’d done it, but you managed to stay out of Michael’s sight. Perhaps it was the fact that you’d locked yourself in your room for the rest of the evening. You were just grateful he’d never found you. Everything that you thought you might need was packed away, lightly, just as Venable had instructed. You were ready to run.

“Halloween?” Mr. Gallant spoke. Everyone at the breakfast table had smiling faces at the sound of a celebration. Even Venable managed to grin today.

“That’s right. We will be hosting a Halloween party this evening in the style of a Victorian Masquerade. At 6:30 sharp. The Cooperative has provided us with some gifts that will be dispersed during the festivities.” Wilhelmina explained.

“What kind of gifts?” Dinah asked.

“What does it matter? They’re gifts! When’s the last time any one of us was given something!” Coco giggled.

You were trying to be as excited as the others. It was hard to think that you’d be leaving all of them behind. As much as these people annoyed you at times, they had become like a little family to you. You’d never admit it but missing out on Coco’s temper tantrums or not being able to listen to Mallory’s stories was something you were going to miss dearly. Wilhelmina winked in your direction as the others began to chat amongst themselves about the evening ahead.

“I assume everyone is giddy about the party tonight?”

Michael appeared out of nowhere, staring at everyone around the table.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you thought to yourself. He was already gawking at you.

“We’re stoked, Langdon!” Coco replied.

“I’m very glad,” he muttered and completely ignored her presence. “Ms. Y/L/N, I do believe we still have to conduct your interview.”

“O-Oh, are we still doing that?” You squeaked.

“Yes, little one. You missed your slot yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot all about it, that was my mistake.”

Michael sauntered over behind you and gripped your shoulders. His hands were strong, as if he could crush bones with them. A shiver ran up your spine.

“That’s quite alright, dove. Let’s just make sure to take care of it today.”

“Mr. Langdon, I don’t think conducting her interview today would be necessary.” Venable added. Her expression remained cool and collected, though you could tell that she could lunge at him at any second. “After all, today is a celebration. Perhaps the rest of the interviews can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take but a moment. Besides, hers is the last interview of the residents.”

“That’s not true!” Dinah said, “You still haven’t given me an interview.”

Michael loosened his grip. “Ah, Ms. Stevens. I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten yours as well.”

“Save the interviews for tomorrow, Mr. Langdon. Everyone deserves a bit of a rest today, don’t you agree?” Venable cooed. It amazed you how great she was at manipulating the enemy.

“Perhaps. Well then,” Michael moved to stand before the table. “I expect to see all of you tonight. You are dismissed.”

Mr. Gallant pulled on your hand and guided you over to where he, Coco, and Mallory were going. You were secretly glad about it. Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d stayed at that table.

“Okay, I’m doing everyone’s hair. Coco, I think for you, we should do a huge French updo! Like one of those powder wigs!”

“Ooooh! I’m going to look fucking amazing!” She squeaked.

“Y/N, I’m thinking maybe a half up, half down moment?”

“Oh, you’re too kind. But I’m not sure if I need my hair done-”

“Of course you do! You’re gonna be beautiful.”

“It’s Halloween, you have to glam it up with me! I can’t be fabulous by myself!” Coco begged.

“I’m sorry guys, I’m not one for the spotlight. I appreciate it though,” you gave them a tired smile, “I’ll be excited to see how yours turns out though. You will look amazing.”

“That’s alright. Coco’s hair is gonna take forever anyway. This bitch can never sit still.” Mr. Gallant joked.

“I’m gonna choke you.”

“I double dog dare you to do it.”

Coco smacked his arm playfully as Mallory rolled her eyes.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, though you didn’t dare to let them out. You really were going to miss them. Without thinking, you pulled all three of them into a tight hug.

“Uh-” Mr. Gallant began,

“Y/N?” Coco muttered.

“Just shut up and let me have this.” you said with a small laugh. They all scooted a bit closer and engaged in the group hug happily. You never wanted to let go of them but you knew that you had to. Tonight was going to be the night you departed from this place forever.

----

Music was booming throughout the halls. Laughter and hollering could be heard from the common room. It was hard to believe that you could hear it all from your room for the Outpost was never this loud. It was nice to know that everyone was having such a wonderful time.

Instead of your normal dress, you had put on the pants and shirt you’d come in. It had been so long since you’d seen yourself in normal clothes. You were surprised that you’d found your old shoes as well. You took a deep breath, stopping to take a good look at yourself. You were sure that you were ready.

Just as you leaned over to grab your bag, you smelled that strange floral scent that used to intoxicate your dreams. The room remained the same. Despite this, you could feel an overwhelming presence beside you.

“Don’t leave. I’m coming.”

It was that damned mystery woman.

“I-I have to go. It’s the only way.”

“You must stay. Trust me.”

“I don’t even know who you are! How in the hell am I supposed to trust you?”

“Yes, you do, my love. I’ll be arriving soon.”

“Who are you?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Stop fucking with my head!”

“Y/N?”

You looked to your door. Wilhelmina looked very different. Her hair was up in a sleek ponytail. Rather than her usual black ball gown, she was dressed in a lavender pantsuit. She held on tight to her cane. Mina must have been a knockout before the apocalypse happened. You wished that you two had met in different circumstances.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah-” you stuttered, “let’s just go. Are you ready?”

Wilhelmina nodded. “I’ve taken care of the others, so we have to leave now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. We have to go.”

It scared you to hear her words. You loved Mina, but she still did cruel things in the past. She was known for killing others prior to your arrivals. You hoped to whatever God was out there that she hadn’t hurt anyone.

The two of you rushed down the hall trying hard not to make a sound. You figured it would’ve been easier over the noise from the party, though to your surprise, the building had gone completely silent. This was the eeriest you’d ever seen the Outpost. Mina led you down the stairs and past the common room. Your eyes widened at the sight of the party.

Michael was nowhere to be found. Bile and blood covered the tiled flooring. All of the residents were dead. You covered your mouth so you wouldn’t scream, but you were completely mortified.

“Y/N, come on.”

“Mina- w-what happened to them?”

“We have to go, darling.”

“But, Mina-”

“I’m not arguing with you!” she snapped. She had never gotten snippy with you before. Though, you were sure it was only because she was scared. You couldn’t blame her.

You continued to follow her until you reached the front of the Outpost. This was the hallway where you had first come inside. It seemed much more daunting to go outside rather than staying here. Mina took your hand.

“Are you ready, my love?”

There was a small silence. You honestly weren’t sure.

“I have to be.”

She gave you a weary smile. You could tell that she wasn’t really sure about this either. But what choice did you have?

“Come on. We have to get out the door before Michael notices that we’re gone.”

Wilhelmina began to make her way toward the entrance. Just as you went to walk behind her, the door at the end of the hall swung wide open. A strong breeze whipped into the building as Venable covered her face with her elbow.

“Oh, what now?!” She cried out.

Though there was something stirring inside of you. You slowly stepped past Wilhelmina and gradually made your way toward the door.

“Y/N! Get back!” Wilhelmina yelled.

You couldn’t bother to hear her. Another softer breeze swirled around your body. That same intoxicating scent of flowers filled your nose. This time, it was all different. Your mind began to wander.

Memories flooded back to you. Robicheaux, the coven, New Orleans, the pretty greenhouse you loved to study in, practicing magic with other women; it was all coming back to you. You could feel your veins surging with power.

More memories came to you. That evening; Mallory was there. So was Coco. That mysterious woman faced you, and you could hear her voice clear as day.

“I will come to see you as soon as I can. I promise that I will find you.”

“I can’t! Delia, I can’t be without you! P-Please!”

“Y/N, I love you more than anything. Please remember me.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the breeze grew stronger. Everything made sense now.

“Y/N, stay back! Jesus fucking christ-” Wilhelmina moved to rush to your side, but as the wind picked up, she noticed that you weren’t fighting any of this. You seemed different. Something in you had changed.

All of a sudden, the wind stopped. The clicking of heels echoed through the doors.

“What if we can’t find them?” A British accent rung out.

“We will. They’re here, they have to be.”

That voice. Your heart was racing. It was her.

Three women entered the Outpost. They were all dressed in black. One, a younger blonde, had a concerned look upon her face. Another with bright red hair and thick glasses was keeping an eye out for enemies. The third woman was-

“Cordelia?” you whispered.

It was the mysterious woman from your dreams. It was Cordelia Goode, Supreme of your former coven. She had finally come for you. Her gaze instantly met your own as a beautiful smile widened across her face.

“My love.” Cordelia said through choked tears.

It was really her. She had finally come for you.

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wonkasmissstarshine · 4 years

Text

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.25

GIF not mine. Credit goes to owner.

Summary: Rose goes dress shopping with her mother and Charlie. While shopping, she also meets a new friend.

Tagging: @holdmeicant @willymywonkers @sleepiesapphicxoxo

When Rose woke up in the morning, she found it odd that Willy wasn't in bed with her. She frowned at that. However, she did find a note on her bedside table. She grabbed it and read it.

Morning starshine

I had some things that needed to be done today, so I got up extra early to do them. The reason for this is because I want to take you somewhere special tonight. I love you, and I'll see you tonight! Oh, and make sure you wear something extra special!

Rose smiled. She couldn't wait for tonight. Willy always had the most special and unforgettable things planned for her, so she couldn't wait to see what he would do tonight. For now though, Rose decided that she would go join her family for breakfast.

******

Rose opened the door to the Bucket house to find them preparing for breakfast. "Morning Buckets!" She greeted everyone.

"Hello, Rose!" Everyone else greeted back.

The house smelled of pancakes, bacon, eggs and freshly squeezed orange juice. "I came to join you all for breakfast" She sat in her usual spot, between Grandma Josephine and Grandma Georgina.

"Absolutely dear" Mrs Bucket said with a smile. "We always have a place set for you, and for Willy" Once all the food was on the table, everyone helped themselves and began eating. "Rose, I was thinking. There's extra money saved up. How about you and me go dress shopping?"

"Really mum?" Rose asked. She's never been dress shopping with her mum before, since they could never afford to go, but now they could. And it was a perfect opportunity, since Willy wanted her to wear something extra special. What's more special than a brand new dress? "I'd like that. Thank you"

"Can I come too?" Charlie asked. He missed spending time with his sister.

"Of course, Charlie" Rose nodded. "As long as you don't mind watching me try on dresses"

"Where is Willy this morning, Rose?" Mr Bucket asked.

"He had things he needed to get done this morning. Then for this evening, he said he's taking me somewhere special tonight" Rose explained.

Mrs Bucket smirked. "Well, it's a good thing we're going dress shopping then"

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Grandpa Joe wondered.

Rose shook her head. "No idea, but I have a feeling that it's somewhere outside the factory" But Rose knew that it wasn't the location the made her time with Willy special. It was the fact that she was just with him. Of course, there was a reason tonight was going to be special, and the other Buckets knew.

Willy was planning to propose tonight.

******

Rose, Charlie, and Mrs Bucket took the glass elevator to a well known dress shop in town. The minute she stepped inside, everyone had stopped to stare at Rose. No one had quite seen a woman dress quite the way she had. After all, she had a thick black fur coat draped over her, black goggles on her face, purple gloves, a top hat and walked around with a candy-cane cane.

"Everyone is staring at you" Charlie whispered to Rose.

Rose smiled. "Let them, Charlie. I'm quite proud of the person I've become"

Mrs Bucket smiled as she pat Rose on the shoulder. "I am too, dear"

A girl with fiery red hair approached the three Buckets. "Excuse me, miss?" The woman called to Rose in particular. Rose looked at the woman. "I must say you have the best sense of style that I've ever seen. I wish more people would be more extraordinary like you"

Rose grinned at the woman. "Thank you..." She noticed the red head wearing a name tag. Rose leaned over to read it. "Lucy. If you think I'm stylish, you should see my boyfriend"

Lucy giggled. She wished there were more customers like this woman. Everyone that comes into the store is always so stuck up and judgemental. But this woman, she seemed whimsical and full of wonder.

"Normally, I wouldn't offer what I'm about to offer" Lucy started. "But I actually design some of my own dresses, but my boss always calls them too "nonsensical" to let me display them. I think they might be to your liking though, Miss..."

"Rose Wo...." She caught herself. She had to remind herself that her and Willy weren't married yet, so she technically didn't have his name yet. "I mean, Bucket. Rose Bucket" Rose shook Lucy's hand. "This is my younger brother, Charlie, and this lovely woman is our mother"

"Pleasure to meet all of you" Lucy smiled at them. "Would you like to see my dresses?"

"I would absolutely love to, Lucy"

******

Lucy brought Rose, Charlie, and Mrs Bucket to a private dressing room in the back. It also doubled as Lucy's design studio. "Please have a seat, and excuse the mess" She said. Charlie and Mrs Bucket both sat on the couch. Lucy stood in front of Rose. "Can I take your coat, hat, gloves, cane and goggles for you?"

Rose nodded and handed each item off to Lucy. She made sure to handle each item with care. When it came to Rose removing her goggles, Lucy gasped "Wow. You have very lovely eyes!"

"Oh, thank you" Rose said. "But they're just plain old brown"

"Brown?" Lucy quirked her head to the side. "They're not brown. They're violet"

Rose's eyebrows raised. "Violet?" She turned around and looked in the mirror. Lucy was right. Her eyes had somehow turned violet. Like Willy's eyes. "Oh my marshmallows..."

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows and turned to face Charlie and Mrs Bucket. "Is she always like this?" She asked them.

"Not until recently" Mrs Bucket explained. "Then she met and fell in love with Willy. She's been dressing and acting the same way as him"

"As in Willy Wonka?" Lucy asked. She wondered why Rose almost said the name. "Oh, he's absolutely amazing! You're a very lucky girl, Rose. How did you two meet?"

"Charlie actually found one of the golden tickets" Rose said, smiling over at her brother.

"I had to bring a chaperone with me, so I brought Rose" Charlie further explained. "Rose and Mr Wonka fell in love during the tour"

An inhuman noise escaped Lucy's mouth as she squealed. "Oh, that's so cute!"

"Willy is taking me out for a special date tonight and he wants me to wear a special dress. Can you help me out, Lucy?" Rose said.

"Of course!" Lucy replied, clapping her hands together. She eyed Rose up and down. "Hmm. I think I know the perfect dress for you" With that, Lucy momentarily left to go find a dress.

"She seems really nice" Charlie commented.

"Doesn't she?" Mrs Bucket agreed with a nod. She looked around the room and noticed all the papers with designs on them sticking on the wall. "Look at all her designs. You can tell she's really passionate about fashion"

Rose was also looking around at Lucy's designs. One in particular caught her attention. "Oh, look at his one!" She carefully took the picture of the wall and got a closer look at it.

It was a dress with white puffy sleeves, like fluffy white clouds in the sky. The top of the dress was a darker grey colour with raindrop shapes on it. The skirt of the dress was short and puffy, and bright blue with a rainbow coloured sash wrapped around the length of the skirt. "It reminds me of a rainy day, but then as you go down the dress, the skies get clearer and then a beautiful rainbow appears in the sky"

"I'm glad someone understands what I was going for" Lucy said when she came back into the room. She had a long white bag with her, no doubt containing a dress in it. "I showed that design to Judy, my boss, but she called it too childish and said I need to keep my head out of the clouds" Lucy frowned and looked down at the ground. "Said I need to stop dreaming"

"Nonsense, Lucy!" Rose said. She grabbed her by the shoulders. Lucy raised her head to look at Rose. "Do you think if Willy Wonka stopped dreaming, that he'd be the amazing chocolatier he is today? Do you think that if Charlie stopped dreaming, he'd ever have found that golden ticket? If Mrs Mason had stopped dreaming, would her pies still be as magical?"

Lucy smiled, and Rose continued. "The point is Lucy, the most successful people got to where they are because they never stopped dreaming. Dreams are what give this world hope. I bet you, one day, you'll open a dress shop of your own and every young girl and woman will be lining up at the door just to wear a Lucy original"

"Thank you, Rose" Lucy said. "You're very kind. Mr Wonka is a very lucky man" She winked and then held up the bag. "The dress is in here. You can change just behind the curtain" Lucy handed the dress of to Rose. Rose then went behind the curtain to change.

Rose gasped when she actually saw the dress. It was a long, burgundy, off the shoulder dress. The skirt reached down to the ground and a slit came halfway up the dress. Rose petals decorated the top of the dress, just above the bust and the top part of the sleeves. There were also rose petals lined on the hem of the dress.

Rose put the dress on and stepped out to show everyone. Mrs Bucket gasped, putting her hands over her mouth, Charlie smiled and his eyes sparkled with admiration, and Lucy eyed her over with a proud smile on her face.

"You look real beautiful in that, Rose" Lucy complimented her. She stood behind the girl, placing her hands on her shoulders and moved her in front of the full-body mirror. "Like something out of a storybook"

"Lucy, this dress is beautiful. And are these real rose petals?" Rose asked.

"Yep" Lucy confirmed. "I preserved them so they'll never wilt. You can preserve anything to use for a dress if you really wanted to. And I'm the best at it"

"Lucy, I think this dress will be perfect!" Rose beamed. "For whatever Willy has planned tonight. I'm sure he'll love this dress as well"

Mrs Bucket and Charlie smiled at each other. If only Rose knew. Mrs Bucket then proceeded to pull the money out of her pocket. "How much for the dress, Lucy?" She asked.

"Mrs Bucket, consider this dress a gift for your beautiful daughter" Lucy said.

Mrs Bucket was taken back with the woman's kindness. "Are you sure, dear?"

"Absolutely. I've been looking for someone to take that dress home for a long time. And I'm just glad it's going home with someone who dreams as big as I do"

******

Lucy walked everyone back outside. Mrs Bucket offered to carry the dress home, which was now off of Rose and safely kept in the bag. "It was nice meeting you all" Lucy said to the Buckets. "I hope you come by my shop again"

"You can count on that, Lucy" Rose said. "And remember what I said, don't ever quit dreaming"

Lucy smiled and then hugged Rose. She then looked down at Charlie. "Very lucky boy you are, Charlie. Having a sister like Rose"

"I am" Charlie said, glancing at Rose. Charlie couldn't see it under the goggles, but he knew she winked at him.

"But she's also lucky having a brother like you" Lucy added. She held out her hand for Charlie to shake. He happily shook it. "And you know, I've got a younger sister around your age. I think the two of you would get along wonderfully, if you'd ever like to meet her"

Charlie's grin widened. "That'd be great"

"Thanks again, Lucy" Mrs Bucket said. "You've been very wonderful to us"

"It's very rare meeting people like you. People with pure kindness in their hearts. So, I have to thank you for that, Mrs Bucket" Lucy then began looking around. "How are you all going to get home? I don't see a car anywhere"

"Oh, we've got something much better than a car!" Rose said. She began walking to the glass elevator. "You see, we've got something called a great glass elevator and it can--" Rose wasn't paying attention and she wound up walking into the closed doors of the elevator, and she fell to the ground.

Lucy let out a worried gasp. "Are you alright, Rose?"

Rose gathered herself and stood up. "Now I feel bad for anytime I might have laughed at Willy for doing that..."

#willy wonka x oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #rose bucket #my oc #rose and willy #the chocolatier's rose

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 4 years

Text

Sunrise Shadows

Rating: G 1,882 Gen AO3

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

She flicked through the channels on her comm, trying to find one not already filled with chatter. The all clear had been called about ten minutes ago now and clean up was well underway. But Steph was a Bat so it’s not like she could be much help clearing rubble or relocating displaced civilians. Her skills lay in kicks to the face, sassy remarks, and boots on the ground interpersonal interactions. Heck, not to mention she was only sixty percent sure she was currently standing in Prague. It might be Vienna. All Steph could do now was sit on the rooftop and wait.

The sun was rising on her left and she had lost track of time at some point but Steph was fairly certain it’d been dark in Gotham when she left. Taking a zeta from the Batcave to the Watchtower and stomping down the glee she still got whenever the computer announced her arrival as Batgirl.

Oracle was coordinating everything from the Clocktower which was lucky because the chaos on the comms made it sound like the Watchtower’s tech was down. No wonder she was still sitting here watching the sun rise over Eastern Europe. No Watchtower, no teleporting back to Gotham. Plus, the speedsters and, well, everyone else sounded a little busy. Making Steph with her super minor injuries, minimal destruction of public property, and... blondeness? (She was really tired; her brain was running out of battery and the internal monologue was losing steam) very low on the list of priorities.

Kicking her feet a bit, Steph allowed herself to get comfy on the edge of the roof. Thankfully, her thigh belt made it through today’s encounter meaning her snack supply did too. Steph pulled a chocolate chip granola bar out and tore it open with relish. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started chewing. Then her stomach growled.

Steph was on her third granola bar and making a physical note in her phone to restock once she slept when she heard her name as part of the litany of sound that floated across the main channel.

“Batgirl? Batgirl this is Oracle, please respond.”

“This is Batgirl,” she said quickly, before someone could interrupt. The Flashes had been narrating rescues without realizing it seemed.

“I’m pinging your location as still in Prague, is this correct?”

Huh, Steph had been right the first time. “Uh, yeah O. I’m just waiting for retrieval.”

“Noted. Sorry about the delay. Dispatching a pickup to your current location.” Babs was all business as the abrupt cut of her switching to a different channel echoed over the line.

Steph waited, check ins and confirmations filling the empty space Oracle had left. She was still listening in, they all knew, just having a private conversation with whoever was playing ferry. Which honestly was kind of weird. Who wasn’t on the main channel right now? And what made them so special the almighty Oracle deigned to give them their own channel in the middle of all this? Ok, end of all this, but still. Steph was Babs’s friend, protege, pain in the ass, and she didn’t even get a private page.

“Oracle to Batgirl,” Babs came back, brusque. Though Steph thought it was just a mix of exhaustion and the voice modulator.

“This is Batgirl,” Steph tried for chipper and landed somewhere decidedly south of it. Honestly, she was just glad everyone else on the line had gone silent at the word ‘Oracle.’

“Please keep your current location, pickup will be arriving soon.”

Steph didn’t even get the chance to say thanks before Babs was moving on to the next thing, which was apparently sending Blue Beetle to help with a fire in San Antonio.

Turning her mic off, Steph settled in. Soon meant anywhere from five minutes to an hour in these types of things. At least she had a nice view and some snacks left in the meantime.

Movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning away from the sunrise. A shadow on the rooftop behind her seemed to shift. Steph blamed her growing exhaustion for making her see things but the shadows seemed to deepen, darken even as the sun climbed.

Instincts kicked in, Steph swung her legs around and scrambled from the edge of the roof. She flicked her bo staff out. Stepping lightly, Steph crept towards the spreading darkness. It was off, the kind of weird that put her on high alert. And it was getting impossibly darker.

Something seemed to be taking shape in the blackness, moving towards her from the depths. Steph was reminded suddenly of Peter Pan as a lone figure of shadow separated itself from the rest.

In a blink, Steph wasn’t looking at a man made of shadow, but a man. An impeccably dressed man with a top hat, dark glasses, and a silver topped cane that glinted in the morning light.

He smiled at her, but Steph didn’t change her stance. “You must be Batgirl,” he said in an accent Beryl would describe as posh. Steph suddenly missed Beryl and hoped that Knight and Squire made it out of today unscathed.

“And you are?” Steph tried for snarky as she lowered her bo staff to point at him. If he knew who she was then maybe he’d know better than to pick a fight with her. Steph was so tired she didn’t actually think she could win. She feared she wouldn’t even be able to hold him off until her pickup got here.

“The Shade,” he smiled as he said it and there was something more than pride.

Steph narrowed her eyes, but otherwise didn’t move. “I’ve heard of you. Whose side are you on today?”

“Always my own,” the smile twisted into a smirk at his joke. “Though currently I am assisting your Justice League.”

Cautiously, Steph collapsed her staff and straightened. “Technically, I’m also a private contractor. I’m guessing you’re my ride?”

He hummed and Steph couldn’t tell if he was annoyed and hiding it with amusement or amused and hiding it with annoyance. “I apologize for the wait. There was a bit of a misunderstanding between myself, a Mr. Constantine, and a, uh, Phantom Stranger about who was to come here and who was to fetch the Teen Titans from South America. Apparently, their jet was rendered inoperable.”

Steph laughed to herself at Tim and his team getting stuck. She could just imagine Rose and Cassie arguing. The demigoddess and ex-assassin both too worn out to do anything but snipe at each other. Or maybe Cassie and Kon were doing cleanup, leaving the rest to wait like Steph had.

The beginning of The Shade’s apology came back around to the forefront of Steph’s mind. It explained why Babs had switched to another line, that was a list of some relatively antisocial/social to only very specific people magic users. They probably weren’t too thrilled to be used as a superhero ride share either. So, their own line? Made sense.

“Totally understandable,” Steph waved off. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

The Shade smiled and inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Batgirl. Now, if you would?” He held out a gloved hand, though his gloves were silk compared to her own reinforced leather with proprietary Wayne Tech rubber grips.

Still a tad leery, Steph’s desire to go home and fall asleep far outweighed any concern over going anywhere with The Shade. He wasn’t a Gotham villain, arguably wasn’t a villain at all, and she did kind of have a monthly midnight brunch with Harley and Ivy. And Selina seemed to have permanently moved into the Manor. Not to mention Steph started her crimefighting career stopping Cluemaster, her dad. So, Steph took his hand.

He took a step back into the shadows and Steph went with him. She caught him glance at her out of the corner of her eye as the shadows rose up and began twisting around her ankles first. He seemed surprised, but Steph was just as at home in the shadows as him. Granted, the inky darkness that was consuming them faster by the moment was darker and much much colder than the ones she was used to. Not to mention sentient.

Soon, Steph was surrounded by the darkness. She no longer felt entirely real. The only way Steph was even sure she existed was the weight of another hand holding hers. Her thoughts came and went before she could even register them. Suddenly, it all came back to her: Steph was being taken back to Gotham courtesy of The Shade and his shadows. She couldn’t see him but the grip on her hand told her he was there, somewhere in the black. That grip began tugging her forward and Steph walked.

One step.

Two step.

Three step.

The world around her seemed to lighten incrementally, though Steph had no idea how she was able to tell.

Four step.

Five step.

On the sixth step the darkness lifted, uncurling from around her until she was left standing on the rooftop of the GCPD in the shadow of the Batsignal. An inky puddle under her feet and a few tendrils still slipping off her calves.

The Shade lifted their linked hands, almost as if he was passing her off at a ball in a period film. Steph took her cue, walking towards the floodlight that shone in the still night sky. She let go of his hand once she was firmly in its glow.

Steph turned back to him though, wanting to thank him before he disappeared. What came out of her mouth instead was “That was so strange.”

He chuckled, “That generally is the sentiment when I accompany someone.”

“What’s the sentiment when you don’t?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Abject terror.”

“Ah.” Well she did ask. His smile flickered somewhere in the direction of sly. “Right,” Steph sighed. “I just wanted to thank you for this. I know you’d rather not do this-”

“Understatement.”

“-but I really appreciated it. So, thanks.”

He tipped his hat in an absurdly gentlemanly way. “You’re very welcome. Just, don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Noted.” And then Steph did something that could only be chalked up to extreme exhaustion.

Steph shot finger guns at The Shade.

He smirked and the shadows gathered around him. The Shade stepped backwards into the growing darkness. Then he was gone.

Smacking her head, Steph turned towards her apartment. She flicked on her mic as she pulled out her grapple. The voices in her ear had disappeared when she went into the shadows but came back as soon as she stepped out of them.

“Batgirl to Oracle,” she cut in and swung out over Gotham.

“Go for Oracle.”

“Consider me home and signing off for... Signing off.”

#dc comics #stephanie brown #batgirl #barbara gordon #oracle #the shade #starman #richard swift #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #own writing #writing #the batgirls are better than you

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schrijverr · 5 years

Text

Operation Nappy Change

After staying the night at Alfies place Tommy accidentally puts on the other mans shirt. It’s way too big and he panics, luckily Alfie has a plan to save him.

On AO3.

Ships: Alfie x Tommy

Warnings: mentions of sex

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck” Tommy cursed as he rushed around the room, he was late and he couldn’t afford to be late, because he still had to get to another part of town, get into the lobby, collect himself and pretend to his brothers, who were coming to pick him up, that he had been at the hotel for the night, not at Alfie's, the person he was supposed to meet later.

Yeah, that’s right, the great Tommy Shelby was quickly grabbing clothes off Alfie Solomons floor. He wasn’t really looking at the items, just quickly pulling them on and making them as presentable as he could, which is why he was quite annoyed at his shirt that just wasn’t working with him today.

It was way harder to straighten it out without weird bumps in his pants, the piece on his chest would puff out a bit and getting his arms in his suit jacket was a challenge if he wanted his sleeves to sit correctly in them.

He practically ran into the kitchen, where the bastard himself was calmly enjoying his tea in a luxurious robe. The bastard in question greeted Tommy merrily: “Good morning, Tommy dear. Why the rush on this sunny morning?”

Tommy tried to glare the grin of the others face while simultaneously stuffing the piece of toast in his mouth that Alfie had handed him. Through the bread he choked: “Fuck you, Alfie. You shouldn’t have let me sleep in.”

“After all that exercising last night, you needed it.” Alfie smirked.

Tommy gave him a slap as he walked past towards the door and threw a “I’m going to murder you, Solomons.” over his shoulder.

The sound of Alfie chuckling followed him out the door.

He wanted to run down the street, but he had a reputation to uphold, so he strutted as fast as he could to the hotel he had booked a room at for pretenses. He had gone a day earlier under the pretense that something came up with one of his secret informants. Arthur and John would come a day later and they would meet him at the hotel in the morning. The hotel he was not currently at.

Fuck.

He checked his watch again and tried to straighted out his shirt, no luck on either. He groaned and rounded the last corner, slipping through the hotel door as his brothers came barreling down the street in their car, sadly John behind the wheel.

Tommy took a few calming breaths, he had made it, then he calmly walked out the door like nothing peculiar had happened that morning. Arthur greeted with a bellow, Tommy just nodded back and got into driver seat demoting John to the back.

“First order of business, a potential partner on the docks, Mr. Rodger. I heard he is a dick, but he has connections and he can help, so no fucking fighting unless necessary.” Tommy began the conversation.

“What falls under necessary?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, does looking wrong count, looks can be very meaningful.” John piped in.

Tommy sighed and said: “No looks, or direct insults for that matter, count. We only fight if I give the signal, like I said, this man has connections, we don’t want him as an enemy.”

His brothers looked unhappy with that statement, but they didn’t argue, which Tommy counted as a win. He let it be for now and let him mind go to his strategy with this guy.

They were a bit early to the meeting spot, so they smoked while they waited. Tommy also used this time to take a better look at what was wrong with his shirt. It was still floofing up at multiple points and it bunched weirdly in his sleeves. He pulled on the underside of his sleeve, his shirt was tailored for him, so it was supposed to make it sit nice and straight inside his suit jacket. This, of course, was not what happened.

He pulled and it extended over his hand, more fabric coming out than should have been possible if it was tailored right, which Tommy knew it was. Then it suddenly hit him like a gunshot, it wasn’t his shirt. No, his shirt had subtle blue stripes while this one was completely white, it wasn’t his shirt, because it was Alfie’s.

He almost choked on the smoke of his cigarette as his eyes became wide with the realization. He quickly tried to cover it up by tugging his shirt sleeve back up his suit jacket sleeve and smoothing down the front of his shirt. Once he had convinced himself he looked okay and it didn’t stand out as odd, he allowed himself to be sucked into a small meltdown.

Okay, he thought to himself, Alfie’s shirt. Fuck. I can’t be seen in this, when we get back Polly will notice, fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to burn it, burn the evidence. But how? I need to have a shirt and Mr. Rodger is almost here. And how will I get my shirt back? Everything sucks, luckily Arthur and John haven’t-

“Mr. Shelby, I presume.” a too smooth voice cut off Tommy’s inner rant.

The meeting began and even though it went well and they got a favorable deal, Tommy was uncomfortable the entire time. He had to resist the urge to tug at his clothes the entire time and he had never been more relieved that a deal was done.

When he was back in the car, this time allowing Arthur to drive, he tried to form a plan of action, but he couldn’t do it alone, he had to talk to Alfie. Of course, Alfie could help!

“I need to get to a phone booth.” Tommy told Arthur, who luckily did what he was told.

Once he had shoo-ed his brothers away he grabbed the phone and rang The Bakery. After a second Ollie picked up and Tommy said: “Give me Alfie, tell him it’s urgent.”

He felt his breathing pick up while there was fumbling on the other side, he let out a relieved sigh once he heard Alfie’s voice, he didn’t know how much he’d wanted to hear it until he did.

Alfie picked up on and asked: “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I have a problem, well not just I, but we.” Tommy was fumbling over his words, “We have a problem, yeah.”

“Did you piss Rodger off?” Alfie asked, “Tommy, I don’t want to be dragged into a war with him, that would fucking suck, wouldn’t it?”

“No, not that, no.” Tommy suddenly felt stupid for overreacting, so he said in a small voice: “I left something at your place.”

It was quiet for a second, then Alfie said: “That’s not that big of a deal, innit. What did ya leave, I’ll get it and slip it to ya, problem solved. That’s the thing with things, right, you can just get them back if you know where you left them, quite handy that they don’t move on their own, you know.”

Tommy was certain that Alfie could go on about how useful it was that stuff didn’t move unless someone else moved them, but he didn’t have time for that, so he cut him off by snapping: “I left my shirt at your place, okay, sorry if my reaction seems out of proportion.”

“Your shirt?” Alfie sounded curious.

“Yes, my shirt.” Tommy snapped again, why didn’t Alfie see how serious this was?

“Are you joking?” Alfie said, “You must be joking, dear. I saw you this morning, you were wearing a shirt.”

“It could have been not my own shirt, eh.” Tommy said.

On the other side Alfie swallowed, then he lowly said: “Are you wearing my shirt right now?”

Tommy stayed quiet, he could feel a blush creeping up his face. When the silence went on Alfie commanded: “Dear, answer me.”

“Yes,” Tommy whispered, “I didn’t notice until later. It’s one of the white ones and it very big on me. Fuck, people might notice, Alfie.”

“Fucking hell.” Tommy could visualize Alfie rubbing his face after that statement.

“We need a plan to get me out of this shirt and into my own before I drive home this night. I’m too busy worrying someone might notice to think, so ideas are welcome.” Tommy said.

“Hm.” Alfie replied, “Get your stuff from you hotel in the back of your car before you come here, I think I have something, but it’ll work better if you’re not in the loop, okay.”

“Okay, see you then.” usually Tommy would be more suspicious or annoyed that he wasn’t in the loop, but he was so exhausted that he was just glad Alfie had a solution.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

With a lighter heart he exited the phone booth and got into the car. There he said: “I’m going to my hotel, if I check out now I won’t have to pay for an extra day, let’s go.”

Arthur started the car and John asked: “You seem better after that call. What was it about?”

Without missing a beat Tommy lied: “You remember that I had to go early to solve that problem? It’s solved now.”

John seemed pleased with that answer.

Tommy was buzzing with nervous energy when they got to the bakery an hour or so later. He didn’t let it show, but he could feel the hum under his skin as he wondered what Alfie had planned.

Inside Alfie was waiting for him, Ollie next to him and one of his man a few feet away, resting on a barrel. As they walked towards them Alfie opened his arms as he welcomed them with a: “Tommy!”

The moment the name left his lips there was a flurry of moment as the henchman's head shot up and he dove forwards, breaking Tommys nose as he tackled them. There was a short scuffle on the ground, which was ended by Alfie whacking the man on the head with his cane.

Tommy got up and felt the blood flowing down his face, he was mentally cursing at Alfie about what the fuck had gotten into him, when he realized blood was soaking into his, no Alfies, shirt. He smirked behind his hand as he wiped his face, then he stoically asked: “What the fuck was that about, Alfie.”

Alfie shrugged and said: “We’ve been getting trouble from a guy named Tommy Marshall, yeah. Heard the name and thought it was that guy, probably. That’s the problem with dumbasses for personnel, innit, they’re too stupid to see context. Anyway, you got something to replace that with, you look like you murdered a baby.”

Tommy looked down to asses the damage, the shirt was ruined, but that had been the point, he could also throw away his tie, a pity, because he quite liked that tie. He grumbled in response: “I think I have something in me car.”

Alfie clapped his hand: “Fabulous, Ollie will help you with that nose and I’ll get your brothers a drink, sound good? Good, let’s go.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at that, but gestured to Arthur and John to just follow Alfie as he himself followed Ollie in the opposite direction.

Ollie lead him to a small room where he got a bowl of water with a piece of cloth. He said: “I think your nose it broken, so I’ll have to reset it. Do you want a countdown?”

Tommy settled on the edge of the desk and shook his head, a countdown only made it worse, you wanted to be unprepared. Ollie shrugged and got in position, right when he was about to snap he casually commented: “So, you and Alfie are quite close.”

Tommy chocked on his spit while simultaneously trying to groan in pain. When he had regained his senses a bit he said: “What the fuck was that about.”

Ollie shrugged, when one works for Alfie Solomons it’s hard to be scared or impressed by someone you see on a weekly basis in friendly context. He explained: “You needed a distraction before I set your nose and, you know, it is quite interesting. I had a hunch of course, Alfie doesn’t like to meet outside the Bakery and he usually doesn’t meet that often with business associates, but until now there was no proof. Though, I had to admit I was worried for a second when he loudly yelled ‘Who wants to hit Tommy Shelby for five pound’, after he had hung up the phone loudly.”

Tommy couldn’t help but snort at that, immediately wincing because it hurt, just because it was so typically Alfie. He shook his head a bit, before getting serious again and saying: “I hope you know the smart thing is to never make a comment or say a word about that again.”

Ollie put his hands up: “I won’t, you know I won’t. I’m pretty fond of my limbs, life and family, if I’m being honest. Besides, I don’t mind, ever since you started showing up more he’s been in a better mood, we had to hide less bodies.”

“Good.” Tommy replied, it should be quite concerning that Alfies good moods were measured by the amount of bodies that had to be hidden, but in this line of work it was pretty usual, so Tommy didn’t bat an eye.

Ollie then grabbed Tommys shirt from the table and handed it over. Tommy changed quickly.

He handed Ollie Aflies shirt with his ruined tie and said: “Burn it.”

Once that was done they left for Alfies office where Arthur and John would be. Tommy just hoped there wasn’t a fight already. He got lucky, they were sitting there with a drink in hand and even though the silence was tense, it was still peaceful.

When they opened the door Alfie greeted the with: “That took you long enough, were you having a tea party over there.”

Without thinking Tommy shot back: “No, we were just conspiring together to murder you.”

Normally Alfie would laugh at this and tel him that he couldn’t murder him if he had murdered Tommy first, but this wasn’t normally. So, the silence that followed got even more tense, but it was quickly broken by a pale Ollie who said: “No, I would never- he’s not- I won’t.”

Ollie could be casual about murder, but only when it wasn’t his boss who was threatened and it wasn’t by him. He knew that Alfie had a short enough fuse to maybe take this seriously, which would be terrible for Ollies health, because he would die. The two leaders looked at each other as the tension rose, Tommy could see his brothers reaching for their caps and he knew he had to stop this before it got out of hand. He said: “Your guy broke my nose, it had to be set and I had to change, it’s gonna take more than a second, eh.”

Alfie gave him one squint, before letting his shoulders relax a bit and exclaiming: “Well after that harrowing and painful experience you could use a drink, just to numb it down a bit, then business.”

Tommy nodded: “Sounds good.”

After that things went smoothly, they talked business, something that they really needed to do before this point, but they had never really gotten around to it. Tommy found it quite of nice to get a clear oversight and he even managed to up their percentages a bit. He also felt more comfortable in his own shirt, without the constant fear of getting discovered it was easier to relax. But, a part of him kind of missed it, the too large shirt felt as a claim, a claim like the bruises on his thighs and chest. It had been soft and safe.

Then after a while Alfie announced: “Well, it’s time for me and Tommy to talk in private for a while, leader to leader, it’s important for trust and expanding. You wouldn’t know and that’s the point, innit? Sometimes it’s better to be left in the dark for a while, makes it easier to keep everything under the wraps and all, nothing personal. Ollie could show you the best pubs in town.”

Arthur and John gave Tommy a look, who replied: “It’ll be good for bonding, eh, but not too much we still have to drive home tonight.”

Then the three left and he and Alfie were alone together once more.

Alfie sagged in his chair, with that terrible posture that Tommy was always hounding him for, and sighed: “Well, Operation Nappy Change was a success.”

“Operation what?” Tommy shot back.

Alfie smirked as he spelled out: “Operation Nappy Change, that’s what I’ve been calling it in my head. Seems fitting don’t you think? A boy in too big clothes, who needs help to get changed?”

Alfie tutted a bit as a hot blush swept over over Tommys embarrassed face. He now felt even more like a baby, especially when he thought back about the softness and safeness of it all. He looked stubborn, though, as he said: “It was your fault that I got into this mess in the first place.”

Alfie chuckled, Tommy was pouting and embarrassed, it was a cute look. He then asked: “How come, I don’t recall giving you my shirt to put on.”

“You woke me up late.” Tommy huffed, “I had to rush because of you, so I didn’t have time to pay attention and an error was made, your fault.”

Alfie raised his eyebrow and said: “Sounds to me like it was you that made the mistake by not paying attention. You’re just lucky I got you out of this big mess.”

Tommy wanted to object, but Alfie ignored it and went on: “I even gave up, getting to watch you squirm and be uncomfortable, while that is such a pretty sight to see. Pity. Bet you looked like a darling in my shirt, dwarfed you, made you even smaller than you already are, my dainty little thing, that’s what you are.”

Tommy swallowed as the blush got redder, he said: “Yeah, it came to my knee, almost a dress. The sleeves covered my entire hand.”

“You’re making me regret helping you.” Alfie told him, then the man gave him a devilish smirk as leaned forward and said: “Next week you can make it up to me.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, voice higher than normal, “How?”

“Well, you can start by wearing my shirt again. Just the shirt.”

#RR writing #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #Tommy Shelby #alfie solomons x tommy shelby #Alfie Solomons #Arthur Shelby #John Shelby #Ollie (peaky blinders)#tiny tommy shelby #sharing clothes

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