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notanotherinfjblog · 3 years ago

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The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak.

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go.

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity.

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

#writing this took 3 years #nothing happens during a pandemic but all the more important this kind of testimony to these people feels to me #esfj has actually become a friend of mine by now #isfp is part of my family now since it was his brother's and my mother's wedding #and the enfj guy is the same as in the first version of this post that i wrote 5 years ago #i don't know where he is now or what he's doing but i really hope that his life is filled with love and happiness #i just think it's strange that after graduating i never saw 98% of the people i went to school with again #but the two people i did meet again dozens of times? were enfj and his little brother #sometimes it felt like a conspiracy of the universe and we were just too stupid #every time i think about how we had eye contact while driving past each other twice i think i‘m going insane #mbti #myers-briggs #types as #strangers i wish i had known #intj #entj #intp #entp #infj #enfj #infp #enfp #istj #estj #isfj #esfj #istp #estp #isfp #esfp

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 years ago

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Touch it for Real, Part 9

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

A/N: DO NOT YELL AT ME! It is going to be okay.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10

You had a secret.

For such an abstract and shapeless thing you could sure feel it sitting in there.

It was pulsing.

Your secret felt like a splinter lodged just under a single taste bud that sat in the center of your tongue. You could feel your white blood cells attacking it, trying their best to push it up and push it out, but still it clung tight with its sharp barbs lodged within your cell walls. You brushed your tongue against your teeth.

The secret did not budge.

What you knew about them though, was that secrets did not like to stay hidden forever.

Your fork slipped and clanked noisily against the ceramic plate and the bright orange carrot ball rolled across the smooth white surface nearly sliding over the edge onto the white linen. Whoever decided that your steamed vegetables needed to be shaped into spheres simply for aesthetics should be forced to come out here and explain how you were supposed to spear one of these things while also avoiding the risk of it shooting across the table and hitting your date in the face.

Ben turned out to be very nice. If you were into tall, handsome, clean-looking, and responsible guys who drove their own cars and also had things like health insurance and retirement plans. When you first saw him, you were struck by the firmness you felt when he shook your hand and smiled brightly at you. He had all of his teeth and a head full of hair. He was definitely walking around on his real legs too. He looked like the kind of guy who didn’t let the clean laundry sit in the dryer for longer than a day and changed out his toothbrush every three months. You couldn't see a single fault.

You were trying your best to make a good first impression.

Really, you were.

Well, while also keeping an eye on Baekhyun who sat beside you with his focus down on his plate as he sliced his food into bite sized bits. His control of the fork and knife felt so careful and so exacting, it neared obsession. He had not ordered the steamed vegetables. None of his food rolled.

Across from him, looking just as cute in person as her online dating profile pictures conveyed, was Mia.

Mia was fine.

She was fine.

You didn't want to get into it.

Her clothes were fine. They were exactly the kinds of clothes you had expected she would wear.

Her hair was fine.

She actually had a hairstyle that reminded you of one of the characters in an anime you watched with Baekhyun once and you wondered about the upkeep costs of that particular shade of blue that streaked through her hair. You wondered if she had to switch to blue towels and blue pillow cases or if everything in her house was just stained forever.

Baekhyun’s cheeks blushed when he shook her hand and his smile was bashful, if not a bit tight when she complimented his glasses. Your mind briefly considered the plush, expensive white towels you both owned at home and a flash of horror overcame you for a split second when you imagined those towels streaked with a blue stain from the shower.

He bought those glasses at a store. Anyone can go to the store and buy glasses. Did such a superficial compliment really warrant such a deep shade of pink on his cheeks?

You took a sip of your glass of wine and the sweet, cool liquid had a tart aftertaste that lingered on your taste buds long after you swallowed and you stabbed roughly at the runaway carrot again, impaling it with the prongs of your fork.

Finally.

“I got it,” you said out loud to yourself with a wide smile and you held your prize up in front of your face for a second. Long enough for your eyes to drift across your table to meet Ben’s and you caught the soft amused chuckle that puffed from his nose.

You’d already gotten through the backstory. Starting with the curious question from Mia about how you and Baekhyun got to know each other and you took a quick glance toward Ben as Baekhyun explained that you and he had been roommates for a couple of years. You caught the slight smile on Ben’s lips as he looked down into his water glass and you wondered if he was pleased that he already knew the answer to this question as you had been quick to tell him this important detail about your life as you chatted with him during the last week or so.

Mia on the other hand simply let her eyes drift over from Baekhyun’s face to land on yours for a moment and you offered a disarming smile by way of explanation. Not that either of you had any explaining to do. You could live with whoever you wanted to live with. It took her ten seconds to return your smile, although you didn't quite believe it, or believe that she was done with her curiosities about this topic.

You couldn't really blame her although you’d given her nothing to be suspicious about. Not in the last 20 minutes since you’d all arrived and nibbled on shared appetizers, at least.

Hell, you hadn’t even touched him all day. From before you both arrived at this fancy restaurant and just relinquished your coats to some stranger simply because she held a hand out and sported a severe enough hairdo and manic look in her eyes that was too frightening to question. From the morning when you woke up and wandered into your kitchen to make toast for one and you ignored the sound of his feet shuffling in, half-asleep to grab a yogurt from the fridge. You hadn’t even helped him style his hair; which looked stunning, by the way, with the waves and the faded brown color that absolutely looked like something the perfect boyfriend would let you play with as he laid on your lap. He hadn’t even asked for your help picking out his outfit. He’d simply done it all on his own and waited for you by the front door wearing those jeans and smelling like that familiar scent that he bought for your date with him weeks back.

When had this all become so awkward? You’d never been afraid to touch Baekhyun before but now, well, the touches hadn’t ever concealed quite so much meaning before.

By the time the entrees arrived the conversations had moved on to hobbies and interests.

Ben was a movie buff, and his favorites were mostly mainstream blockbusters of the Marvel Superhero variety. He enjoyed many of the genres of films you’d mostly seen just the previews of. His top ten contained a bit more horror than you were comfortable with. One in particular, a prolific film based on a Steven King novel, had been the kind of psychologically terrifying film that made your chest rattle and you had spent most of the second half of that movie with your face buried in Baekhyun’s arm begging him to just describe to you what was happening and to tell you when the scary parts were over.

When he asked you what your favorite movie was you hesitated for a moment before pulling the movie Forrest Gump out of basically thin air. Yes you had enjoyed the movie. Yes it was something you’d seen more than once and if it was on television right now you would sit down and watch it from start to finish and you would enjoy it. It was a respectable favorite to have. It was the kind of favorite movie you would not be embarrassed to show to your grandmother.

But it wasn’t actually your favorite and you could feel the burden of Baekhyun’s eyes as he turned his head to look at your face when you said it.

Something about naming, out loud with your own lips — the light and fun, mindless guilty pleasure of the film that was actually your favorite movie that you’d watched hundreds of times and returned to watch again and again every time you felt even a little bit upset; something about saying it out loud to this table of people with countless of hours of media consumption under their belts and opinions about things like prolific directors, production companies, hefty CGI budgets, and overused, tired tropes that absolutely should be dropped in 2021, well it just felt too vulnerable for you to say out loud.

You swallowed a sip of your wine and refused to turn your head to look at Baekhyun until you heard the sound of his throat swallowing the ice water he sipped.

When Mia changed the topic to Anime you felt Baekhyun come alive beside you and Ben slinked back in his seat a little as the two of them got to talking about something that was highly anticipated and was slated to be released next year. Rumors about artists and directors with names you could not know flew easily from their lips and Mia mentioned the name of one previous work that you recognized.

In fact you had watched the entire thing last year with Baekhyun and you remembered talking excitedly about it with Mia during one of your early text conversations.

Your face lit up and you happily joined in, excited to finally know what in the world they were talking about when you accidentally let something slip when you reminded her of what she had said about the anime before. Luckily you stopped yourself before you could admit that you had actually been the one she had been chatting with at the time.

Still, she caught it. She was very quick and sharp and you watched her face as she registered that you’d referenced something that only Baekhyun should know about. Had you just fucked up?

“Ahh, we,” you raised your index finger and waved it lightly toward where Baekhyun had stiffened up in his seat beside you, “he told me about what you said.”

There was a moment when her eyes widened and she looked at Baekhyun briefly before returning her focus to you.

“He...told you about me?” She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, straightened her back and leaned forward with her forearms rested in front of her plate on the table. Her off-the-shoulders number dipped when she leaned in and you caught a bit of black lace and the bunch up of her impressive bosom.

She smiled a coy smile aimed across the table.

You followed the smile and your eyes reached Baekhyun. He’d been hit with the smile and had been too stunned to return it. Instead, he lifted a hand and rubbed it over the back of his neck twice before reaching the same hand forward to grab the ice water he’d been sipping all night as he pulled in a mouthful and puffed his cheeks before covering his lips with his flattened palm and swallowing noisily.

“I also mentioned you to my friend,” Mia said not quietly enough for it to be just for him and you dropped your eyes down to the half finished chicken on your plate.

She was fine. Mia was fine. She’d done absolutely nothing wrong. She was nice and she was probably a good person, but you kind of wanted her to die.

“So,” Ben interjected suddenly and you looked across the table at him as you tried to conceal the surprise on your face to find him sitting there.

You noticed he was done with his food and his plate had already been cleared away by the super attentive waitstaff.

The negligence of your own date weighed heavily on you and you angled your chest forward to face him directly for whatever questions he had for you.

He was pointing toward Baekhyun and Mia with his extended finger and raised eyebrows.

“You two work in computers?” It was a work question. He’d gathered this much from the brief introductions everyone had given and while you had failed to offer any insight as to what you did for a living, Baekhyun and Mia had both mentioned computers.

“He’s a software engineer, and I’m a programmer. Similar but not the same,” Mia explained. You weren't sure of any of the details or of how they were different. You hadn’t really put much thought into it. You knew Baekhyun worked the magic with the keyboard and could fix anything that you happened to break.

“I’m in advertising. Just got scouted by Comma Entertainment and I’ve accepted.” Ben had a hand raised to his chest and his eyebrows were up. This seemed important to him and you let your lips form into an impressed O shape as you raised your eyebrows. His tone and the way he said the name of his new employer seemed to warrant the excited reaction.

You weren't familiar at all with his industry but you knew how to react like you knew what he was talking about. He certainly seemed impressed by himself. Who were you to discourage his enthusiasm.

“You’ve heard of it?” You sold it too well. Baekhyun had leaned close to you and whispered an aside question and you shot him a tense look with your eyes as a warning, but you quickly pushed your smile wide for Ben who was, deservedly, very excited about his new position.

“Of course, who doesn’t know Comma for advertising. That’s a very big deal. Is that why you were so busy last week? We hardly got to talk.”

Your subject change was so slick. If you hadn’t been the one to do it, you’d have been impressed by it. The disappointed pout on your face sold it well.

“Actually I was at the bank a lot last week. It was so weird. I had a few accounts that seemed to be hacked but then it turned out to be nothing. Had to change all my passwords though, so that was annoying.”

“That sucks. They didn't take anything did they?” Mia spoke up from beside Ben; concern written all over her face.

“No. Whoever did it just seemed to access purchase histories mostly. Some loser of a hacker. Didn't even get any money.” Ben’s lips pulled wide and he was laughing with his head thrown back at his perceived victory over the hacker that had been messing around in his bank records.

“You can learn a remarkable amount of information about a person’s bad habits from their bank history, Ben. Sure utilities and rent; that’s boring. You can find out how often someone gets hammered at bars. How many of those bars are also strip clubs. How many maxed out credit cards they make minimum payments on each month just to keep their head above water. Their gambling losses and the motel rooms they book in the bad part of town…”

Baekhyun was speaking up beside you. You turned and you looked at his profile as he spoke so candidly and with what you could only describe as a certain smugness on his voice.

The only reason he’d stopped talking was to catch his breath. It was the most he had spoken all night and you honestly felt taken aback by the suddenness of his words and more, the topic he spoke on. It felt weirdly pointed. It just felt so detailed; almost accusatory.

“What?” You hissed the question; focused it hard and as under your breath as possible to the man seated beside you.

His lips closed up before his eyes turned to look at you and you caught a quick blink of his eyes that preceded a softening of his features that had no business looking that confrontational in the first place.

“I’m not saying any of that stuff applies to Ben.” Baekhyun lifted a slim dismissive hand to wave toward your date. “It’s just an example. For all we know Ben’s only weakness is eating fried chicken every day.”

Ben’s lips were pulled into a thin line on his face and his jaw unclenched when you looked back at him. Then he was smiling at you and it was bright and convincing. You smiled back at him and shook your head at your wacky roommate’s antics.

“Actually it’s pizza. You caught me buddy, I’m a hardcore pizza addict. Every night.”

“Well, not tonight.” Baekhyun shrugged with an odd smile landing on his lips.

Ben’s tight smile flattened and the two men seemed to be staring at each other for longer than you thought was polite for a shared first double-date.

“So what is it that you do?” It was Mia who ultimately broke the tension and you looked across the table into her eyes. She had a pleasant smile on her face and was still chewing on a piece of bread, clearly unbothered by the strange standoff that had just been going on between the two men at this table.

Surely you weren't the only one to notice how odd it had been. Had you just imagined the tightness in Baekhyun’s fist that laid over his thigh and the hard glare in Ben’s eyes?

With Mia’s question though, you felt your own lips pull closed and your eyes danced around the table to the other curious parties who also were now looking at you to answer the question.

You’d prepared well for this date. You’d made sure Baekhyun had the detailed first date topics, questions and answers for perfect small talk, even the section on table etiquette. You’d made sure he knew you’d be here to steer the conversations toward topics he was comfortable discussing and you’d even set up a safety signal he would use if he wanted to bail and just go home.

You’d planned it all out, down to the detailed progression of the evening and how at the end someone might even suggest going together for drinks. And should one of the dates wish to split off, it would be completely okay as long as the corresponding person felt comfortable. You’d even promised that under no circumstances would you abandon Baekhyun to do this on his own if he didn't want to. Not even at the behest of Ben, your date.

They were looking at you and you'd gone quiet. You’d been so busy preparing for this date that it never occurred to you that you were also actively involved and that someone might possibly ask a question about you and your work.

Your work. Well…

“Uhh...I don't really do anything worth mentioning.”

You felt it. It was a warmth that had pooled in the skin around your nose. Your cheeks felt warm and you felt just insignificant enough for it to take your undeserved confidence and throw it out the window.

Ben and Mia were watching you. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and bit down on the dry chapped skin on the surface.

“Nothing?” Ben said and his eyes were wide with a look of confusion on his face.

“Well, not nothing.” You were not completely unemployed. You had been quite impressive before. You’d been working with the best publicists of an entertainment company and had been in charge of crafting and perfecting the asset sheets of many of your company's highest profile artists. You’d been the best at it and at one time had been highly sought out for your expertise. You had a way with it. You could work some real magic. You could make a dud of a raw potato sound like a five star course in a Michelin star restaurant. Losing your position in the spring of 2020 had really been a huge blow to your confidence. You looked back at how far you had fallen. Boring data entry jobs to make ends meet. Taking on weird side gigs so you could afford tiny luxuries like your favorite scented lotion or the name brand tampons instead of the store brand.

“I do have a job.” You added lamely. “It’s just not at all interesting.”

Ben dropped his eyes from yours and Mia shrugged her shoulders and stabbed a carrot ball expertly on the first try.

“Yeah but what is it?” Mia said as she chewed daintily. The heat in your cheeks spread and you let your eyes wander away from hers over the various dinner items that covered this table.

Beside you, Baekhyun’s movement caught your eye and you turned to see him place an elbow on the table in front of him and he leaned forward.

“She’s a dating coach. She’s really good at it, but much too modest when she talks about herself.”

Oh no. He wasn't about to spill the beans was he? This was definitely not something in the approved list of first date dinner topics. Wasn't this topic too incriminating? Wouldn't Mia put two and two together and figure out that you had been coaching Baekhyun all along? Also, wasn't this new profession of yours too brand new to start talking about so freely like this? What the hell was he doing?

“A dating coach? What’s that?”

Strangely, Mia didn't seem to be looking at Baekhyun with wheels turning and sirens blaring. She was looking at you with her mouth empty and hung open with a look of genuine interest in her eyes.

“Do you like, feed them what to say in an earpiece?” Ben was speaking up from the other side of Mia and you laughed at the absurdity of such a silly rom-com movie cliche.

“Well no. I’m not a pickup artist. I am a dating coach. Think about it like a sports coach. I am teaching my clients the skills to play the game. Skills to overcome dating anxiety, or I’m teaching them to identity and move away from self-sabotaging behaviors, limiting beliefs, or preconceptions that are detrimental to a healthy relationship.

I have clients that don't even know where to begin. My goal is to strategize with them and place them effectively within the dating scene so they stand the best chance. It’s incredibly hard to be objective about your own love life, but I provide an outside viewpoint. I step in and intervene when I see something that isn't in line with their relationship goals or the vision they have for dating.

I’m not teaching manipulation or just telling them what to say. There are no love spells to make someone fall in love with you. I’m changing the way they believe in themselves so they can present themselves to someone else in the absolute best way to begin a real relationship with someone.”

You’d been leaning in as you spoke animatedly with your hands. You felt the genuine excitement building with your words. You were surprised at how much of your previous profession’s language applied to this new exciting endeavor you were embarking on, but there really were tons of overlapping similarities between the two fields. The explanations just poured out of you.

You hadn’t said any of this out loud before to anyone but the more you talked about it, the more elated you felt about what you were doing with your life. With how much you had been helping Baekhyun and how much progress you had seen in just one day of helping your clients — Baekhyun’s friends Minseok and Sehun. Sehun had finally, finally sent you his first selfie that wasn’t taken from his lap after you’d sent him many examples of good selfies taken from different angles. Minseok was already halfway through the materials you’d sent him to study and had been working hard on identifying and changing the self-defeating language he’d used in his rough draft dating profile.

“She has an app.” Baekhyun piped up from beside you. He’d leaned back in his chair as you spoke.

Both Ben and Mia’s faces mirrored each other’s. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung in amazement and you quickly closed up your own mouth and grabbed anxiously at your wine glass, feeling a little bit embarrassed about having talked so much. You couldn't resist the chance to smash their misconceptions about what your goals actually were with helping your clients. None of these people were unlovable. They were all worthy of finding someone and you were going to give it your all to help them see their own value.

“Not at all interesting?” Mia spoke up, “that’s super interesting. That’s really, really cool. Can—Can I have your contact info? I have a friend that would be interested in your services.”

“You have an app too? This is something we could advertise online. It would do extremely well on certain kinds of reddit forums and definitely in most online gaming communities.” Even Ben sounded excited, if not a bit overly judgmental, and you heard a quiet, but hostile scoff next to you.

You ticked your head toward the sound but did not turn to look at him. You knew that scoff well enough to hear the annoyance in his voice at whatever he thought Ben might be insinuating about online gamers and the connection to the incels that haunted the forums of reddit.

“I think it’s a bit premature to think about online advertising. I’m still only one person.”

Ben smiled and shrugged off your quick dismissal of his idea to partner up and advertise your business to the desperately lonely and pathetic gamers of the world. Hell, the more you thought about it, the less inappropriate Baekhyun’s annoyance was. Ben could use some coaching on choosing less insulting words.

Thankfully the dinner was over and the check had been taken care of. You looked away from the palpable awkwardness that slapped you across the face when Baekhyun waved away Ben’s card and paid for the entire bill with his own.

“You can get me next time, buddy.” He definitely said this word sarcastically. It was out of line and you simply could not find the right moment to pinch his leg under the table to get him to behave himself in a discrete enough way that would not get you caught by the other two people at this table.

You let it slide simply because you had no way to stop it. He was ignoring the way you waved your finger frantically at him down by your calf. You knew he could see you in his peripherals.

No, Baekhyun. Stop that. Be nice. Your hand was saying. He wouldn't even look at it.

The dinner was over and the movie was starting soon. You’d picked a restaurant that was close enough to the theatre that you could walk.

You paired off. It was far from natural. You actually caught Baekhyun’s eyes as you stepped quickly and walked ahead of him, falling into step beside Ben and you left behind Baekhyun and Mia to bring up the rear. It took every ounce of self control not to turn around and look behind you to see how closely they walked to each other. To see if Baekhyun kept his hands shoved securely in his pockets or if he swung his arms at his side as he walked, inching a hand closer and closer to Mia’s swinging hand in the hopes of a back of the hand brush of his warm skin against hers.

Your steps must have stalled. You’d reached the theatre and you looked up to locate Ben, only to find him at the box office purchasing four tickets for the movie you’d all agreed to watch days ago. For the life of you, you couldn't remember what you were seeing. You merely followed where you were led and found yourself seated in a center row of a movie house sandwiched between Ben and Baekhyun. You noticed the center armrests had been lifted when you arrived and simply did not bother to lower them since everyone was too full from dinner for any movie snacks or drinks.

The house was mostly empty and then lights dimmed as the movie began. You searched your brain and nearly pulled out your phone to check your chat logs for the name of the film but decided against shining a tiny bright light in a dark room.

The movie began and you were quickly drawn into the narrative. It was a dark film and as the soundtrack began to take on more sinister sounding tones you recognized that your heart was racing and you were feeling the tension all over your body. It was not a gorey horror film, but it was leaning more toward the psychological suspense thriller genre. Not really something you watched much of.

To your left, Ben sat completely still; focused only on the movie screen. He looked so calm and nearly unaffected by the terrifying things happening on the screen. He occasionally shifted in his seat but did not react to the jump scare that flashed before your eyes and made you flinch hard in your seat. You’d reached the point in the film when the main characters were in genuine danger and you began to wonder if anyone would make it out of this movie alive. Was this one of those films where everyone was doomed?

It happened again, another jump, another loud shocking sound and another noise startled you and you dove to your right, hiding your face in the warm shoulder of the man sitting beside you.

The realization was instantaneous. The second you felt the warmth of his arm, and the smell of him hit your nose, you pulled your head up and you straightened out your spine, mumbling a quiet apology to Baekhyun for using his arm to hide behind as you removed any and all contact points you had with his body. You angled your hips and your knees away from him and even went so far as to stick your hands well under your own thighs and keep them there so you didn't grab for him again. You had been doing so well by not touching him at all today. Why did it have to be a scary movie?

Things grew more frantic on the screen. You held your breath and tried your best to keep from reacting as much as you could. How long was this movie? How much longer did you have to endure this? You should have paid more attention to the details of this part of the date. This was your own fault. You were acting like a big baby because you couldn't handle a little frightening scenes in a movie.

It was coming again. You could feel it building. You closed your eyes and terrible sounds were erupting all over. You would just not look. You could make it through if you just didn't look. With your eyes closed the sounds felt louder than ever and when you thought you couldn't take it anymore you considered committing the enormous sin of getting up during the climax of the movie to use the bathroom just so you didn't have to sit through this anymore.

There was a shift beside you then. You felt warm fingers inching down your forearm, traveling the path your hand took that led below your thigh and someone was reaching for your hand and pulling it out from where you’d been sitting on it. Someone to your right was gripping your hand with his own warm hand and you opened your eyes to look down between the hidden space between your hip and Baekhyun’s hip. There, you saw the grip of his hand that wrapped securely around yours.

He squeezed down once and you followed the length of him up to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He was looking up at the screen. His eyes were open and he did not flinch at all. He was so still aside from the occasional movement of his lips when he moistened them with his tongue.

You could handle this if he lent you a little bit of his strength like this. Your eyes returned to the screen but your mind wandered back down to the secure comfort you felt in his hand.

You felt your own secret throb.

It made you flinch just a little bit and Baekhyun’s hand shifted then. He moved, lifting the tight grip for a moment and you wondered if he was done, would he take his hand back and leave you cold and afraid again? The lift was for the shift of his fingers and you felt the push of each digit between yours. He pushed his fingers between yours; interlocking your hands together with his and his thumb moved lightly over your own thumb, brushing comforting strokes again and again through the loud and scary and shocking scenes that played over that screen.

This time the racing you felt in your chest had nothing to do with the scary movie. He was touching you. He was holding your hand in secret. It felt forbidden with his date sitting right beside him like she was and with your date seated right beside you like he was. All of your attention was down on the slow pressure you felt from his thumb as it traced the shape of your own thumb down from the very bottom up to the tip, around again. The simple up and down had a slow and sensual rhythm to it. When he lifted his hand his thumb moved and you held your breath to feel that same very slow touching trace the outline of the palm of your hand again and again. He drew absentminded shapes into your skin with the pointed tip of his thumb and your eyes drifted closed as the longing grew within you. He followed the paths of the creases in your skin like a palm reader. He did not even need light to see them, he simply felt them and traced along the paths.

You let him.

You felt bewitched.

You loved him.

The credits rolled on the screen and the lights switched on. The change was abrupt. You were taken by surprise and shocked by it like you were from the jump scares in the film.

His warmth left you. His wandering light touch, his deliberate and careful exploration of the lines that made up the palm of your hand vanished.

Everyone was standing and everyone was walking out of the theatre house and your mind felt clouded and dazed but you followed where their steps led and you found yourself standing outside of the exit doors with the three other people who you entered with.

Baekhyun stood beside Mia and Ben occupied the space of the sidewalk square that you also stood inside.

It was the end of a night. You felt an overwhelming urge for this evening to be done so you could go home and shower and maybe eat something sweet and distracting and maybe made out of chocolate.

“Well this was fun,” it was your own voice that ultimately called it.

Mia had been looking at Baekhyun who had been looking down at his own feet as he lightly tapped his foot on the concrete below. Three taps.

Tap, tap, tap.

You felt a jolt of realization. Baekhyun had just tapped his foot thrice on the floor below him well within your sight and you recognized what that meant. He was feeling done. He was done with all of this exhausting socializing and being out in public with so many people around and he wanted to go home now. This was him asking you for help now as he wasn't sure how to end the date but wanted it to be over.

“What about...grabbing some drinks, maybe...” Mia was talking only to Baekhyun as she looked at him, “if you aren't too tired.”

“Hey Baek, isn’t your grandmother coming over early tomorrow? Do you still have to get ready for that?” You interjected suddenly and Baekhyun looked up into your face with his mouth open and you watched his eyes move slowly over your face as he recognized what you were doing. You were giving him an out. Mia had asked him to go for drinks and you were giving him an excuse, should he need it.

You both knew his grandma came every other Sunday. You both vividly remembered the wonderful visit you had at the beginning of the week with her and she wasn’t due to arrive again until next Sunday.

He could simply correct you if he really did want to go with her. He could call you a dummy and tell you that you had the wrong week again and playfully tap you on the head to jog your brain back into functioning the right way as he often did when you got something mixed up.

“Oh, yeah she is,” Baekhyun grabbed your convenient reminder from the air and smiled a rueful smile directed at Mia. His smile widened with the wince on his face, “that’s too bad.” He added and Mia took it well.

She smiled and nodded her head and there were well wishes for a safe trip home all around as you all parted ways.

Ben said he would text you later. Baekhyun told Mia the same and you waited until they both walked away to follow Baekhyun back to his car for the quiet ride home.

The silence was heavy, but it was comfortable.

Baekhyun didn't speak at all and you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was tired. He wasn’t normally an extroverted person and found it very draining to carry on a full conversation with friends he knew well. Strangers like he had been with tonight, well, you could see the fatigue in his movements and you knew he needed something warm to drink and maybe some comfort with a familiar favorite tv show to zone out in front of.

You handled it better. You were used to having to go out of your home occasionally and you even enjoyed socializing with your coworkers on the few days you went in to the office for work. You felt a bit drained but mostly you were preoccupied with watching how he was handling it and you were also burning with curiosity to know how Baekhyun felt about the whole thing.

He’d wandered into the living room and he found the sofa. You followed him close behind and grabbed the remote, flipping to a familiar and funny cartoon that you often saw him playing in the background as he worked on things. He didn't usually watch it that closely but it was comforting enough to stay on and keep his mind occupied for a while.

You didn't speak. Everything you had to ask him could wait. Even the scolding you had for him about how he acted toward Ben could also wait. You’d let the man breathe a little first.

You busied yourself in the kitchen making two cups of hot tea and when you returned you found his head leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes still glued to the screen. He had a passive smile on his face and he reacted positively to the wacky scenarios the characters found themselves in. He would occasionally speak out loud, speaking along with a funny line he knew by heart and you found it impossible to resist saying the follow up joke. You knew this show as well as he did.

He accepted the tea with a smile and had a few sips and you set your mug on the coffee table in favorable of the comfortable side of the sofa, the side with the pillows that allowed you to rest your head comfortably as you watched the big tv.

You were feeling pretty good. Baekhyun had now officially gone on his first date with a real girl who wasn’t you and he’d had a nice time. You could see from where you laid your head down how relaxed his face was as he giggled at the show.

You stretched and you felt his warm thigh with your foot. This sofa was long enough for you to stretch out completely and you only barely reached where he sat at the other side. You wiggled your toes, unable to resist the light messing with him that you often gave in to and his hand reached down to grab ahold of your foot, which he held in place as he paid attention to the tv.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you sat up a little bit to pull it out.

You saw a text message from Ben.

From the preview you got the idea of what kind of text message the man would be sending you an hour after your first, and apparently your last date with him.

-Hey you seem like a super cool girl, but...

The preview showed you enough to know that he was dumping you before you’d even gotten anything started with him.

You opened the text. Your curiosity outweighed your sense of self preservation.

-...but whatever’s going on between you and your roommate, well it doesn’t really seem like there’s much room for me. I just don't think I can start something knowing I’ve already lost. Thanks for inviting me tonight. The movie was fun. Good luck with everything. - Ben

You felt the sting.

You couldn't help it. You’d spent all evening watching Baekhyun interact with Mia with every ounce of your self control devoted to not letting your jealousy show at all. At one point you’d been so damn engrossed in them that you forgot Ben was even there. What an unfair and shitty situation to have put him in. You quickly keyed out an apology for your crappy date etiquette and thanked him for going out with you tonight.

You couldn't even blame him for anything. He had been sweet and he had tried his best to be the perfect gentleman. What had you expected?

You sent the last message you would ever send to Ben and tossed your phone roughly toward the coffee table. It bounced but landed in the middle.

The racket called Baekhyun’s attention and he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Ben just rejected me.”

Somehow saying this out loud to Baekhyun felt better than hiding it from him. It felt less miserable than keeping it inside of yourself and letting yourself suffer the sting of the rejection alone.

Baekhyun’s lips pulled into a small frown and he took out his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it roughly on the coffee table beside yours. It took a similar bounce and your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“No way, not Mia too,” you said in genuine fear and Baekhyun shook his head with his shrug still well in place.

“Nah, I just can't lay down with my phone in my pocket,” he said as he wiggled on the sofa trying to get comfortable, “though in hindsight I can see how you would think that, sorry. Mia hasn’t texted yet.”

He was wiggling, finding no comfort in all the positions he tried and you caught his wandering eyes for a second as you lightly tapped a hand over your belly.

This…

This would be fine. This was something you both did sometimes. Baekhyun said your belly was warm and comfy and made the best noises and he liked to use you as a pillow when he was just too tired to go to his own bed.

He moved right away at your invitation and you let your legs part around his chest as he laid his head down right on top of you. He turned his head to face the tv and didn't even squirm too much before he sighed out loud. His arms laid on either side of your waist and you felt the constriction as he lightly squeezed around you.

You really hadn’t gotten to touch him all day. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you felt a low moan from the back of his throat travel though your body as you raked your nails down the back of his head to his nape.

“Peanut,” you said softly, feeling every little bit of the annoying little tickle of that stupid secret sitting inside of you.

You could feel the heaviness of his body as he gave in and relaxed his muscles on you. You felt every breath he took and they seemed to be changing as you played with his hair and he gave in to the relaxing comfort you offered him.

“Hmm?” He replied after a long while. You angled your face and could see that his eyes were closed.

“How was the date? Was it nice?”

You had so many hopes for him. You were trying your best to ignore the pangs of your own selfish jealousy and get past it all to get to something good for him. Something that would make him understand how incredible he was. How beautiful he was inside and out and how precious of a human being he was.

“Mhmm, I liked it.” He said softly and he shifted and you felt him tighten his hold around your waist briefly before he relaxed again.

“Did you really? Do you think you liked Mia?” You kept your voice strong. You did not allow your fears to overcome your voice. You were okay with this if he was okay.

He did not answer right away. You’d stopped playing with his hair and you kept your hand rested over his head. He was so warm. He was so lovely.

“Do you want me to like Mia?”

No.

Mia would be so good to him.

You did not answer. Your answer would have been no. It would have been selfish. You’d just been dumped by your date, how dare his date have gone so well. You’d both been on the same date. You could still see the way she looked at him. She found him just as lovely as you did.

You felt a thickness at the back of your throat and you swallowed it down.

“I’m trying, Bug. She’s very nice to talk to. Do you think I should like her?”

Was this because of his mistrust of people? Was this his shyness about letting someone he didn't know very well in close?

You couldn't respond. You did not trust yourself to do the right thing.

“You should go rest if you’re sleepy,” you said, you know, like a coward.

It took him a few minutes of laying on top of you before he realized that you were right and he would be much more comfortable in his own bed. He nodded and pushed up with his arms, and his eyes stayed closed and his head stayed hung down as his feet shuffled and he made his way into his bedroom, leaving his door open you merely heard the loud sound of him plopping down on his bed.

You were stuck where he left you.

Stuck in about as crappy a mood as you’d ever found yourself.

You hated everything about this. You hated how much you loved him and you hated how receptive he was to the idea of dating Mia. You hated how she looked at him and giggled at his small jokes and you hated HATED the way his cheeks blushed and the shy smiles he gave her when she talked to him.

You laid there and you stewed in your mood for longer than was good for you and the only thing that made your it up was the simultaneous buzzing that brought both of your cell phones to life on the coffee table.

You reached for yours. It’s as your dating coach app. Baekhyun had received a new message from Mia. The feelings that surged through you were taking over your sense of what was good and what was right and what was proper behavior for someone like you to participate in.

You swiped to read the message.

-Hi Baekhyun. Sorry I couldn't wait until tomorrow to text you. I had an amazing time tonight and I was wondering if you would like to meet up tomorrow after your Grandmother’s visit for coffee? I have something I’d like to ask you.

You felt as if your body was on fire.

You could feel it deep inside your chest, deeper still inside your belly where his head had been resting moments before. You felt it in the palm of your hand where his thumb had traced the patterns of lines there. You felt it in your lips that he had kissed and in your tongue ached inside of your mouth from your stupid secret.

You reached for your phone. You opened the app for the power he’d given only to you and you responded to her message as if you were Baekhyun.

-Hi, Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll meet you at 1pm.

Your hands moved on their own. You moved to the internal commands of your app and you deleted both of the messages from the chat history. When you picked up his phone you saw the notification for Mia’s message vanish before your eyes and when you unlocked it and accessed his chat log, there was no sign of the unimaginable and unforgivable sin you had just committed against him.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @totallynerdstuff @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer @uhobob @baekswifey @punchmebaekhyun @xlxbaekhyuneex

#baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #exo #exo fanfic #exo fic #baekhyun fic #baekhyun ff #exo ff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun chaptered #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut

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srbachchan · 4 years ago

Text

DAY 4815

Jalsa, Mumbai May 4/5, 2021 Tue/Wed 2:34 AM

... the lamentations for the loss of the text that was written and then disappeared last night , has been lost too .. they were in reference to years and thoughts of the years gone by .. of times and some remembrances in , as one of my readers of the Blog put it, in kgb mode .. secretive , non understandable , like most secret services of all nations .. 🤣

If they come back to me in that refrain I shall reconsider .. else they go down with me .. some matters and minds should .. their relevance shall be naught .. for they hold hands with them that either have left , or were never interested in the first place .. they could have had value for the self .. but that would be a most selfish exercise .. un exercice égoïste .. eine egoistische Übung .. تمرين أناني tamriyn 'anani .. эгоистичное упражнение ..

... but the mind is a relentless tortoise winding its limitations of speed and destination in its sincerity .. unlike the hare .. determined to nose the tape .. and for some peculiar reason the refer to the previous strikes in the silence of the early morn now .. as the slightest of vibrations on the shutters behind , alert you to the cctv .. they be blank, but not the desire .. ehh hrhh .. not desire .. such a vacant word .. supposed to say it all but never does .. maybe it does for others , maybe not .. but there ..

.. so in the last we were at -

“Leave it , leave it mrB .. you behave like those fact formative early years of self independence when the evening parties were spent in ‘bring your bottle, bring your girl’ and sit aside and debate .. the ‘adda’ of the times which exists in its maturity to date .. and those that resented the thought minds of mere talk for the sake of talk would sneer and snigger , as they danced to the …

GONE .. again .. an entire page of writing as I posted a picture ..

Shall not remember to write again .. it is so damaging .. to destroy and steal my process and think .. TUMBLr .. 😡”

yes .. those that resented the thought minds of mere talk for the sake of talk would sneer and snigger, as they danced to the .. 👆🏾 .. 👇🏿

strains of the popular at the time Pat the Boone, Cliffy baby , and often the holding the traditional waist and hands in ballroom fashion would be freed by the ‘rock of the jailhouse ‘ in the ‘lis Presl shakin all over his blue suede shoes .. Bobby the Darin the sweetheart of the school and the Humperdinck .. maturing on with great swoons and screams to the mop headed at HDN .. the ‘night so hard’ .. and the yaay ya of loves me yayaya .. till the sudden surprise of the wood in Norway .. the Norwegian .. the indian instrument , the haridwaar, the meditational spell of bearded gurus who swore to walk on water and sank at Juhu beaches .. to submarines painted ‘yellow’ .. and the livings of the evenings in the raj infested cultural left overs still predominant to make the burra sahib and the burra din existence in the prominence of the blue decorated Park by the street of a million jams on one .. sundays at trincasjam, pam crain and the Louis Banks of the Fox that was Blue .. mocambo not the ‘gambo’, ??? moulin rouge .. and the solo drum hours of the drummer .. as you ended up in the high end hoteliere Grand and drove back intoxicated with the first era feel of INDEPENDent SELF .. drove walked taxied or trammed to the million residences changed due paucity and capacity of the earning - the clac of the tons with 8 the high gates of the friendly family at Tolly , the chowrings shared with the other in adjoining , and closer to the new rd the Pore of the A .. the NEW of the pore ending up the pgied highest towered , peering at the late night highlights of the neighbourhood .. in gasping views , through parted curtains ..

Left .. left it ..

So .. thoughts and time devoted to the wants and needs for the others .. in distress and in saviour mode for help .. something collected , some on the way , some delivered , some in operation .. BUT ..

.. lots to be done ..

.. this we give in the times of trouble .. the 3rd .. the 3rd wave be in preparedness already and there is the planning in the city at least of the eventuality in the coming few months ..

.. each nano second come the suggestions and research and opinions and statistics of the fraternity , and nothing remains authentic for more than a nano second for the reverse or the opposite come about immediately ridiculing the first .. belief and follow is shattered .. is the T and FB and insta follow the true follow , or manufactured .. every theory has a theory to a theory of another ..

.. never has there been uninterested doubt of one from the other .. believe one and the disbelieve comes hammering through .. say one and unsay the other in immediacy ..

SO .. hehe .. (I use the SO with so much dignity and respect) .. ok away .. simplify the narration mrB ..

RIGHT .. that sound alright ?

RIGHT .. in these conditions then I share thought with the Ef each day .. DAY .. speak to them as one .. as one that sits before me in isolation .. I see them before me .. at my writing location .. up late , up from days work , up after leaving household or office and read .. my rubbish that I pour out ..

BUT .. if I were to ask of a job duty .. a service to be rendered .. naaah .. service and job are wrong .. if I shared and asked for it to be shared further .. would you .. ?

Haha .. I see many hands raised .. screaming all at once “of course .. how can you ever think we would not .. I mean how can you even ask such a question ..”

etc., etc., etc ...

So I shall ask you .. to .. to ..

Forget it ..

Good night ..

surprisingly I felt sleepy by 8 pm and went to sleep in my tracks .. got up by 11 .. and now after the repeats of the postponed IPL , am just not wanting to get back to bed ..

.. there shall be consternation and scoldings and high voices .. and expressed, exasperated dismay .. which I shall of course bear with shielded smile .. but they be right as do you in the many here ..

.. you know the distraction is not the rarity of slumber .. its slumber itself .. it has different manifestations now .. a dimension that cannot be explained ..

earlier it was hit the pillow and the dreams or the sleep went on the ON mode immediately ..

NOW .. there is a process, which if not followed pesters the life out of you .. what to think of when the pillow be hit so as to induce the sleep .. that ladies and gentlemen of the jury takes about the time you normally need for the completion of the hours for rest .. so in the end you actually never sleep sleep as such .. you comprehend .. ?

no .. you did not .. OK ..

Fine ..

GN .. thats good night .. said in all sincerity .. but may it be known that for some its too late to express it and for some that wait it shall be a limited night .. and for me the goodness just leaped out of the window ..

O heavens the morning bird chirps now begin .. its 3:41 a of the M .. soon it shall be 4 .. then 5 .. thats like morning ..

so ..

Good Morning ALL ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

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tiny love || v

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about. things like moving halfway across the world for university; and moving in with the very boy who’d broken your heart.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 4.3k

m.list | ch. 4 ↞ ch. 5↠ ch. 6

Life moved too quickly.

That was the only logical conclusion you could come to after the past few weeks. One minute you’re finding out you’ve got a scholarship to a university overseas, the next you’re spending as much time with your friends as you can without burning out, and then suddenly you’re standing at the airport, suitcase in hand and loved ones lined up in front of you like this is some fantasy RPG and you’re about to go into the final battle.

Your family had said goodbye before, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier. You’re the youngest, after all. The baby.

“Remember to call if you need anything, okay?” Your mother said, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I know, mum,” you smiled. “I love you.”

She sighed, pulling you into a hug. She said nothing more, letting the slight tremble in her arms say all that was in her heart.

Your father was next, ruffling your hair with a certain melancholy. “Be good, you hear?” He chastised. “Don’t talk to boys.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Dad…”

“I’m just saying, there are more important things to focus on,” he nodded sagely. “And don’t go causing any trouble.”

“I won’t,” you nodded. “Promise.”

Kaori was next, a certain mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Send me a photo of every pigeon you come across,” Kaori said.

You grinned at her. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “That way I’ll know you’re alive every day.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“Is it so wrong for me to want to check up on my little sister?” She teased. “I just want to make sure you won’t forget about me.”

“I won’t,” you laughed. “I’m sure you won’t let me.”

“Too right,” she grinned.

She gave you one good, tight hug. She, more than anyone else in your family, seemed to be the best at swallowing this whole situation. It was a relief to know that someone would be there to console your parents.

Finally, Amaya. She pouted at you, pulling you into a rough hug.

“Don’t forget to text me, okay?” Amaya mumbled, her arms tight around her shoulders. “Or I’ll knife you.”

“I know,” you chuckled, squeezing your grip on her waist. “I’ll keep you updated on everything, don’t worry.”

“You better,” she huffed, pulling away slowly.

Once, you might’ve dreamed of going to the same university together. But life had a funny way of taking your plans and crumbling them to dust in the palm of its hand.

But you were sure that no matter what, your friendship would hold steadfast. Amaya wasn’t the type of person to let things die so easily.

You couldn’t delay any longer.

As you walked through the gate, you wondered if Tooru had felt like this. If he’d been hounded by this unrelenting fear, doubt, and anxiety. If he’d also felt like throwing up. If he had, he’d covered it up well.

That thought didn’t do much to quell the lurching in your stomach.

Tokyo had once felt unbelievably far away. But California? That was a different beast.

✧ ✧ ✧

After a twenty-hour plane ride and two stop offs later, you’d come to the conclusion that airports, in fact, were the most unholy places known to man. Whose fault was it that airports were labyrinthine hellholes which were impossible to navigate?

By the grace of God, or perhaps as an apology for the godforsaken pilgrimage that was your flight, you managed to find the luggage pickup area with relative ease. By the time you managed to haul your suitcase off the baggage carousel you were ready to take a nap for the next three months.

You sighed, looking up at the clock hung high on the wall. 5:21 AM. Ew.

You felt a touch of pity for all the workers rostered on at such an ungodly hour.

Oh, and whoever was responsible for escorting you to your new ‘home’.

As you trundled through that godforsaken place, suitcase trailing behind you and carry-on slung over your shoulder, you were too tired to think and too tired to worry about who might be waiting for you.

That clawing anxiety had gripped you for the first hour or so of your flight, but it’d been completely replaced with other worries.

There’s only fiberglass separating you and an absurdly high fall… what happens if the plane goes down? What happens if one of the wings caught fire? What if one of the doors inexplicably ripped off mid-flight and sucked you out through a vacuum?

Regardless, you’d landed with your soul very much attached to your body – although that in itself presented you with a host of new problems.

You glared at the signs pointing in every conceivable direction, praying that your English was good enough to decrypt this mess for you.

Arrivals. That sounded right.

You dragged your feet in that direction with a big yawn, decorum be damned.

A thin crowd was gathered at the gate, waiting to greet the ragtag group of travellers who filtered through. Mothers, daughters, beloved friends, lovers…

You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes and the hope that you’d catch sight of some familiarity.

Oh.

There was your name on a placard, written in hiragana.

And holding it…

Shit.

Iwaizumi Hajime. He was glancing around the airport, seemingly a little bleary-eyed.

Your flight-or-fight response was well and truly activated. Had he really shown up at the airport at five in the morning just to pick you up?

Oh no. Oh God. That’s… not what you were expecting. Sure, you’d been told you’d be “picked up” from the airport, but you’d just expected some taxi service or something. Your mum had sorted that all out anyway – she’d insisted that you let her do that, at least, to give her some peace of mind.

But she hadn’t told you it would be Iwaizumi picking you up. Were you supposed to have assumed that? Fuck.

With the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth and a sinking feeling in your gut, you dragged yourself towards him.

Each step you took towards him just seemed to make him look even hotter. He was wearing a loose white shirt, but you could tell that he was built. Even more built than he’d been when he left. He hadn’t done his hair in that spiky Godzilla style he used to, and it’s longer than when you’d last seen him. He’s gotten a tan, too – an unfairly flattering golden tan.

And he was wearing a pair of fucking grey sweatpants.

I’m going to die, you thought. It’s official. I am the world’s biggest idiot, and Iwaizumi Hajime will be the cause of my death via cardiac arrest.

Was it too presumptuous to text your family your goodbyes?

He caught sight of you.

You made eye contact for the first time in a year.

What do I do? Your thought, cursing yourself out for being so… so like this.

But Iwaizumi just waved at you with a small smile on his face.

You closed the distance between the two of you with trepidation, scouring your mind for what to say to him.

Hi? How are you? It’s good to see you?

None of those felt quite right. You were much too tired for this. And he was much too hot—

“Hey,” he smiled, dropping his hand to his side.

“Hi,” you nodded, resisting the urge to bow. Should you bow? He is your senior… but this isn’t Japan. But that didn’t change the rules of etiquette, did it?

“I can carry that, if you need,” he said, nodding towards your luggage.

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have refused on the basis of pride alone. But you’d just flown halfway around the world, and you were doing your best not to drool at the bloody Adonis standing before you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing him your carry-on. You managed to finish the hand off without your fingers brushing, much to your relief.

Iwaizumi observed you for a second, a touch of concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” you smiled at him weakly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a lie.

“Understandably,” he chuckled, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

You frowned as he jangled them around one finger. “You drive?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got my license back in Japan. Managed to transfer it over.”

“Huh,” you said. When had he learned to drive? That’d been happening right next door and you’d had no idea?

“You ready?” He asked, looking at you over his shoulder as he turned around.

You nodded, tugging on the handle on your suitcase.

The two of you made your way to his car, which turned out to be a dingy-looking thing cobbled together with dull navy metal and rubber.

You said nothing as you packed the luggage into the boot, Iwaizumi doing most of the grunt work. Part of you felt bad, but you knew full-well that he had more strength in his right middle finger than you could ever dream of having.

He strolled around to your side of the car before you had time to remember which side of the road Americans drove on.

“Here you go,” he said. The asshole just had to open your door for you too, didn’t he?

You nodded your thanks, settling into your seat with a little more frustration than feasible.

He’d slipped into the driver’s seat as you finished buckling yourself in, and before you had time to take much of anything in, he was backing out of his parking lot.

You watched him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so… casual, doing this. The Iwaizumi you knew had never been behind the wheel of a car. And yet now, he’s moving like it’s second nature.

How much had you missed? So much must’ve happened while you were out of contact.

“Hey, uh… Iwaizumi?” You mumbled, clenching your fists in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for picking me up,” you said, chewing on your cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem,” he chuckled.

You felt like you should say something else. But you’re weren’t sure what. He seemed relatively calm, given the situation. Saying the wrong thing could potentially fuck that up.

“How was your flight?” He asked, gently making his way through the car park.

“Uh…” Was there a polite word for ‘awful’? “It was fine.” You shrugged. “I made it here in one piece, so…”

Iwaizumi chuckled. The sound made your stomach flip.

You leant back in your chair, closing your eyes with a sigh. You didn’t know how far away your apartment was. Fifteen minutes? Ten? An hour?

Your brain reeled with potential small-talk topics. There might be a lot of time to fill.

“Take a nap if you need to,” Iwaizumi said.

“Thanks,” you hummed.

Maybe he was aware that he was giving you an out. Maybe he had no idea.

But you were more than happy to take it regardless.

✧ ✧ ✧

A pre-made bed was waiting for you in your room. You blinked at it a few times, the brain-fog of a long flight still clouding your mind.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Iwaizumi said, leaning against your doorframe. “I just got you some sheets because I didn’t think you’ have the energy to sort all that out today.”

You’re going to cry. Cry, and then die.

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asked.

You turned around sharply at those words, waving your hands about. “Oh no, no… I’m fine.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as if he was appraising you. He simply nodded. “Well, call out if you need me.”

“Yep!” You offered him an unbearably stretched smile.

“Alright,” he said. With that, he was gone.

You sighed, turning to your suitcase. It was laid on the floor, unopened.

Shit. This really was a big move, wasn’t it?

And, you’d moved in with Iwaizumi. Something you’d never expected – not like this, anyway.

Shaking that thought out of your head, you kneeled in front of your suitcase. Something about it felt more reverent than it had any right to. You unzipped it slowly, pushing back the battered red lid to reveal your belongings.

You bit the inside of your cheek, starting with the first layer. You’d packed your pyjamas on the top – a move you’d like to thank younger you for.

As you placed it in your lap, you gazed at the rest of your belongings crammed into your suitcase.

You hadn’t brought all that much. Mostly clothes that you thought would be appropriate for the Californian weather, a few knick-knacks and keepsakes that you felt particularly attached to, a handful of your favourite books, your polaroid camera…

So much had been left behind. You didn’t mind that, for the most part; but it still felt like you were abandoning a part of yourself. Everything you’d accumulated over the past nineteen years, just…

Maybe your parents would hold onto all your things. But it wouldn’t be remiss for them to throw them away.

It’s all just part of growing up. That’s what you told yourself – you had to change, move on and get over it.

If Tooru could do it, you could to. You had to.

But now it felt like his shadow was hanging over you darker than ever. Part of your own journey had been dictated by him; if he hadn’t recommended you live with Iwaizumi, where would you be?

What was Iwaizumi even like now? Was he a good person? He’d been very nice and polite ever since you’d seen him at the airport, but…

Was he trying to be warm? Or was he keeping you at an arm’s length? Could your ‘friendship’ ever recover from… that?

You swallowed, running a hand over one of your dresses.

Honestly, you just wanted to go to sleep.

You didn’t want to leave the room because that meant you might bump into Iwaizumi. You didn’t want to unpack because you had the sneaking suspicion that it was going to make you feel like crying. You didn’t want to call anyone because you knew you didn’t have the energy to do so.

There was only one thing to do, then.

You managed to drag yourself towards your bed, hoisting yourself onto it with a grunt. You curled up on top of the sheets, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The ache in your eyes didn’t subside as your closed them, but there was nothing else to do.

Attempting to rest was better than nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧

A knock on your door.

You bolted upright, startled out of your uneasy slumber.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice was distant but distinctive.

“Hm?” You didn’t trust your own voice to hold up.

“You okay?”

You bit your lip. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t your best lie,

A long pause followed.

“No, you’re not.” His voice was soft, gentle. Not like what you’d expected.

Although, you weren’t even sure what that was.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Uh…” You swallowed roughly, crossing your legs. “Yeah. Sure.”

He needed no more prompting, letting himself in and leaning himself against the wall.

There was good distance between the two of you. You’re grateful for it.

“What’s wrong?” He looked genuinely concerned. Why, you didn’t know.

Nor did you know if you should actually tell him. There was admittedly no reason to; at this point in your life, he was just a roommate.

“It’s just…” You sighed, your mouth moving before your brain. “It’s a big move, you know? I don’t think I’m ready for it.”

You’d had this conversation over and over again, both with Tooru and with Amaya. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. It was the one thought you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried to justify this whole thing to yourself.

“You’re more ready than you know,” he said softly. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I guess…”

“It’s not easy, but you can do it.” His tone was resolute, not harsh but firm. It almost makes you feel like he’s right. Almost.

“And…” He swallowed, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I’ll look out for you. You’re not alone.”

You weren’t quite sure what those words made you feel.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Your voice is quiet enough to go unheard, but he smiled. It was only a little smile – one someone who hadn’t known him for so long might’ve missed – but it was genuine. You couldn’t tell if that was a good omen or a grim portent.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about this tonight,” he nodded, standing up straight. “You’re already exhausted, so you’ll only make it harder for yourself.��

You pouted at him, much to your own surprise. Unfortunately, he was right.

“Give me a moment,” he said suddenly, disappearing.

You sighed, lying back on your bed and closing your eyes.

It felt like you’d entered the Twilight Zone.

Maybe things would improve when you started uni. Then you’d have something else to think about that wasn’t just ‘oh God, I moved in with Iwaizumi Hajime and that was stupid, dumb, and a colossal mistake.’

Your instincts were begging you to book a flight and go straight home to Japan. Surely, you might be able to get into some university – sure, you missed the entrance exams, but perhaps…

Were you already chickening out? Tooru had moved halfway across the world entirely on his own, but he’d never once thought about turning back. And yet here you were, lying in your bed feeling like you were about to disintegrate just because your roommate happened to be someone you used to have feelings for.

God, that was pathetic. It was only day one.

“Here you go.”

You flinched, sitting up suddenly.

Iwaizumi stood at the side of your bed, holding a mug out to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded. As you took it from him, you peeked at the tea bag.

Your favourite. He’d made you your favourite tea. You took a tentative sip.

Shit.

“I hope you still like it that way,” he said, a touch of pink to his cheeks.

It reminded you of winter back home.

“I do.” You looked up at him, giving him a genuine smile.

He smiled right back, his face softening in that rare but stunning way you remembered.

You were a little proud of yourself for keeping it together.

“I, ah…” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, taking a few slow steps away from the bed. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ve got practice early tomorrow, so…”

You nodded.

As you watched him leave, closing your bedroom door on the way, you wondered if you should’ve asked him what his training was for.

But you just sipped your tea.

This really was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time you woke up in the morning, Iwaizumi was out. That was something of a relief. Iwaizumi not being around meant you could explore the apartment without the fear of bumping into him.

So, you took the opportunity, sneaking out of your room and taking stock of the layout of your apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room attached to a kitchen… it wasn’t big, but you weren’t about to complain.

It’s quite a change from the family home you grew up in, but the change is a little exciting. It’s certainly liveable, and you know your parents are grateful for the fact rent was affordable enough.

The apartment was well-tended and clean. You weren’t sure if he’d cleaned it up before you’d arrived – which wasn’t unlikely – or if he usually kept it this neat – which also wasn’t unlikely.

A few photos hung on the wall, some with people you knew, some you didn’t. There were a few photos of the Seijoh team, exhibiting various degrees of chaos. Some others included people that you recognized as his friends from high school, and there were several of himself, Tooru, Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Other photos were a total mystery, though. Probably friends from university, a mix of men and women you didn’t recognize.

You didn’t let yourself look at them for too long; your mind was concocting too many questions, too many narratives that made your gut feel all funny.

The only other thing of particular interest was the television and the DVD stand next to it, stuffed full of both Japanese and English movies. Most people streamed these days, but Iwaizumi had always been a bit of a traditionalist when it came to technology.

Regardless, the small size of the apartment meant there wasn’t all that much to explore.

You slunk back to your room after a close inspection of the bathroom, which you decreed as ‘clean enough’.

By the time you passed through the threshold of your room, a quiet blanket of exhaustion settling over you. Jetlag really was a piece of shit.

You tossed yourself on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe you could call someone. But you weren’t sure how the time zones lined up. Your parents wouldn’t be happy with you if you woke them up at some ungodly hour, and Kaori needed the rest. Amaya might be up, but you didn’t want to stress her out…

Tooru was an option. He wasn’t that far away in the grand scheme of things, and he might’ve been able to offer some advice…

But he was probably busy. And you’d already bothered him enough.

God, why were you so frustrated? Was it exhaustion? Anxiety? How difficult it was to wrap your head around the situation? You just wanted to sleep for a week.

Before you knew it, your eyes fluttered closed, and you drifted into an uneasy nap.

✧ ✧ ✧

A firm, steady knock cut through your barely conscious mind.

You blinked rapidly, frowning. Shit, did you have another nap? That better not become a habit.

With a groan (and a great deal of strain) you managed to get off your bed, dragging yourself to your door.

You opened it with trepidation.

Iwaizumi stood on the other side with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of yakisoba with chopsticks poking out of it in the other.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, eyes flicking to the ground, “you didn’t come out to eat, and I didn’t see any dishes in the sink, so…”

“Ah,” you swallowed. “Right.”

You hadn’t eaten yet. All day.

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking the bowl from him. To his credit, it looked good; plenty of vegetables, and nothing seemed to be burnt. That might be a low bar, but you digressed.

“Would you like to eat at the table?” He asked.

You resisted the urge to stare at him.

Eat at the table? Like… like… a family? Did roommates do that?

“Sure,” you nodded. You’re not really sure why – some fear of hurting his feelings, probably.

But you tottered after him, hoping to God that your stomach would settle enough to allow you to eat.

Iwaizumi settled himself down at the table, his seat already prepared with a glass of water, a bowl, and a pair of chopsticks.

He set the glass of water in his hand down opposite from him, in what seemed to be your designated spot.

You slipped yourself into the seat, taking note of just how uncomfortable it was. Affordability over comfort – a student mantra, apparently.

“How was practice?” You asked. You just wanted to fill the silence. Once upon a time, silence between the two of you wouldn’t have made you feel like crawling out of your own skin.

“It was good,” he nodded. He didn’t seem like he was trying to be terse of anything – Iwaizumi was just a man of succinct, short sentences.

“I’m assuming it’s volleyball?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

You took a small bite of your yakisoba. It reminded you of home. “Are you still a wing spiker?” You asked.

“Mhm,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Although there’s a fair bit of competition for the spot.”

“Really?” You asked. You couldn’t imagine a volleyball team where Iwaizumi wasn’t heralded as a magnificent player.

“A lotta guys wanna be the ace,” he grinned.

You smiled. That made sense.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you both focused on your meals. Your appetite was voracious, now – you hadn’t even realised how hungry you were until you’d started eating.

“Did you leave the apartment today?” Iwaizumi asked, making you jump.

“Ah, no,” you shook your head. “I was worried about getting lost.”

“Fair.”

Another silence settled over you, a more pensive expression taking over Iwaizumi’s face.

He was completely unreadable. Probably because you knew nothing about him. Not anymore.

“Would you like me to show you around tomorrow?” He asked.

You blinked at him, completely blindsided.

“We could get lunch,” he offered.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process the muddle of feelings inside you.

What on earth was going on? Perhaps he was just reaching out a friendly hand. And, chances were, he felt some kind of duty to protect you.

“Sure,” you smiled. “Sounds great.”

You weren’t stupid enough to push away the only ally you had in this strange new world. Hopefully, other friends would come. But for now, it was just you and Iwaizumi in this little apartment, trying to make this arrangement work.

You had to make it work.

You’d find a way.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: aaaa thank you for your support so far! sorry this one’s a bit choppy, but i think you’ll enjoy chapter 6 (i hope sfdlkdfj)

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

427 notes · View notes

let-me-luve-you · 4 years ago

Text

Overlooked and Overworked

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: Being Tom Holland’s little sister was great growing up, but after his success she’s a little left behind. Y/N Holland is willing to do whatever for her family because she loves them.

Warnings: Angst, fluff ending, rude Tom, overworked, sleep deprived

A/N: I don’t think Tom or any of the members of the Holland’s would allow this to happen to any member of their family or friends, I just had this idea and wrote it. Also I wrote this back in like January and just now got the guts to post it!

MASTERLIST BUY ME A COFFEE

The past couple of years for you have been an emotional roller coaster. You’ve been so excited and happy to see your brother succeed in his career. It’s always fun to see him on the big screen as someone else. But it’s also been tiring and sad because you feel left out. You don’t get to go to set often, you don’t get to travel with him, and you aren’t a part of his charity. The Brothers Trust is just him and your 3 other brothers. Given you help out way more than all of the brothers. Since you went to school for business, you help your mum and dad with both of their businesses and then run The Brothers Trust.

Tom is the oldest, then it’s you, the twins, and then Paddy. You’re only a year and a half younger than Tom. You were very close growing up, but once he started doing movies, you slowly grew apart. Him and the twins then grew closer. You loved him dearly but it just wasn’t the same since you never felt included. He took Harry to sets with him and on press tours. Sam would join along when he wasn’t working at the restaurant. Paddy would join during school breaks. But every time you would try to join him, he would say no. That he was too busy or too tired. You didn’t want to fight him but you were always crushed.

When he got the role of Spiderman, he decided then he wanted to move out into his own apartment. You offered to help him find a place since you had been looking for yourself. You offered to share a place and split rent but he said he wanted to be completely on his own. But shortly after he moved into his new 4 bedroom apartment, he had Harrison, Tuwaine, Sam, and Harry move in.

“The twins are moving in with Tom. Can you help pack and move them this weekend?” Your dad asked.

“What? They’re moving in with Tom? I thought he wanted his own space?” You asked him.

“He said he wanted to be around people because it was too lonely and quiet. Did you ever find a place? If so, you may want roommates too.”

“No I realized I can’t afford a place in a nice area to live alone. All my mates have moved off to continue their education or they have jobs else where.” You said sadly.

“Tom should of asked you then. I’m sorry y/n/n.”

“It’s fine. He hangs out with all four of them all the time. I would of just been in the way.” You said as you got up and left the room.

It’s been a couple of years and you still can’t afford to get your own place. Between helping run three businesses, you don’t have time to get a part time job. You pay your parents for rent and help pay bills so you are doing adult things. Plus it helps your parents financially. It’s busy season since your mum is picking up gigs for photoshoots, your dad is on tour for standup and his new book, plus you are planning a movie event through the trust as well as trying to get all the merch bagged and shipped. You have been working 14-15 hour days for the past 3 weeks without a day off. You are feeling the tiredness mentally and physically.

Tom has time off from the movie he is filming now. They gave him a month off for the holidays. Him and Harry have been home but all they have done is hung out with friends and go to the pub. You have been holed up in your office/bedroom for 3 days straight. Only to go out to the bathroom and kitchen to grab food.

“Where has y/n been? I haven’t seen much of her since we got home.” Harry asks Tom.

“She might be finalizing the Spies in Disguise event and getting things ready.” Tom responded.

“Oh good. Y/n is great at getting a head start on things so I’m guessing she’s done with all the prep and souvenirs.” Harry smiled. Tom laughed in response.

On Christmas Day, you only came out of your room for breakfast and lunch and then went back in your room to work. No one noticed the bags under your eyes that you tried to hide with makeup. No one noticed you almost falling asleep at the table. No one thought twice about why you spent most of Christmas alone in your room. But you were behind. You still had a lot of orders to fulfill and send out. You still had get all of the souvenirs together for the event that was in two days. You still had to finish sending out your dads orders for his book as well as finalize his January travel plans and stand up dates. Your mum had booked 12 more shoots and you had to finalize times and dates. And everything was supposed to be done in the next week. You finally caved and decided to ask Tom for help since it was his event after all.

“Hey Tom can I have you help me out for a little bit?” You asked him Christmas evening.

“Do you need me tonight?” He asked.

“If you can that would be great.”

“Sorry y/n/n. I can’t. I’m meeting to boys at the apartment.”

“Well maybe they can help too.” You sounded hopeful to get more help to lighten your load.

“No can do. We have drinks and plans.”

“Well then can you come tomorrow morning or early afternoon?”

“Can’t. I have a meeting with my manager to discuss everything that’s coming up and then all of us at the apartment and Paddy are going into the city. Maybe I can help you after the event?”

“No it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” You said sadly as you turned to go back to your room.

“What about Paddy? Or mum or dad?” He asked.

“Paddy has football that mum is taking him to before she does a shoot tomorrow. Dad is working on some other stuff for his January shows.”

“Sam or Harry?”

“Well both will be with you tonight and tomorrow.”

“What about in the morning?”

“Sam has to work remember. And I think Harry is meeting with some mates to catch up with them or something along those lines. It’s fine. I’ve got it handled. Have fun tonight and tomorrow. Be safe. Love you.” You turned and almost ran back to your room. You wanted to break down in tears from being overwhelmed and for not being included in any of Tom’s plans of hanging out and catching up. You’ve barely seen Tom in the past year. Only when he’s in London. You shook the thoughts of your brother out of your head and pulled out a sheet of paper. You wrote down everything that needed to be done. Then on your white board, wrote them down in most important the least important.

First up was getting all of the brothers trust bags done. You went to the storage closest and pulled out everything you would need and set the boxes on your bed. Then you went and grabbed a tote to put the finished product in. It took you until 4 am, but you finally finished putting them together. You went into the kitchen and made you some tea. You went back in your room and marked the brothers trust goody bags off of your list. Next you started finalizing plans for your mum. That just involved organizing times and dates. You finished that around 1030 am. You marked that off the list as well.

Before you emailed all of the clients their dates and times, you went to the kitchen to grab and snack and drink. Your mum was in the kitchen.

“Morning love.” She smiled at you.

“Morning.” You said back waiting on your tea.

“So I’m going to drop Paddy off at football in 20 minutes and then Tom will pick him up to go into the city. I have to go to my shoot. Do you have the invoice I can give them?”

“I do.” You rushed to your room and grabbed it from a folder then went back and handed it to her. “Everything is on there. The deposit has been paid and it shows that as well as the price for the shoot and the editing. It also gives the timeline of when they will get the pictures.”

“Great. This is wonderful. Thank you. Also the theater called and said we can set it up today at 3 pm. Are you okay to handle that on your own?”

You sighed but answered, “yes I can handle it. I finished the bags last night. I just need to print off the papers to put on the seats as well. Plus get the itinerary finished which I will have by tonight so Tom knows what’s going on.”

“That’s great. I’ll be there to take photos as well as Harry but the boys will all be busy with fans and making sure they all feel special.”

“Sounds good. Have fun on your shoot.”

Your mum smiled as her and paddy left the house. You went back into your room and emailed everyone for your mum. Then you printed the brothers trust sheets that said what the event was supporting and how we were thankful for their donations. As those were printing you forgot you had to pick up an order of pictures so Tom could sign them for the guest coming to the screening. You looked up and saw that it was 130 and if you were going to be on time you needed to leave in the next 15 minutes.

After you loaded the goody bags into your car, you drove the 20 minutes to the print shop to pick up the pictures. You then went to the theater and set everything out. It took 45 minutes to lay everything out and make sure it was perfect. You then snagged some photos for Instagram and posted them. By the time you got home it was just shy of 5. You went straight to your room to finalize the itinerary. At 8 pm your mum knocked on the door.

“Hey baby. I’m back. How did everything go setting up wise?”

“It was good. Took longer than expected but wasn’t too bad for being the only one there. Also here is the itinerary for you and dad. I also have one for each of the boys.”

“Wow. This is detailed perfectly.”

“It kind of had to be since Tom has an event to go to tomorrow night and he can’t be late. I figured the more detailed, the less things can go wrong.”

“Fair point. Love I’m not sure if the boys notice the work you put in, but I do. Have you slept yet?”

You looked at her shocked, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that I can tell you are exhausted. I woke up at 2 am last night and heard you in here and saw your light was still on.” She paused and looked at your long list on the white board. “And by the looks of it, you have a long to do list. Do you need help? After we get through the event I can help. I don’t have a shoot for a couple of days.”

“I appreciate mum, but this list needs to be done by then. And everything you can help me with will be done already. But thank you.”

“Did you ask your brothers to help? I mean this is there thing. They should be helping you. Not leaving it to you to do yourself.”

“I asked Tom to help so I could have him do the goody bags for tomorrow but he had a guys night with Sam and Harry and them last night. Then they were all busy this morning and then went into the city. But it’s fine. I did the bags last night. That’s what you heard when you woke up.”

“I’m sorry baby. I’m going to have a talk with him. Have you had a break to just hangout with Tom. I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“No he’s always in a meeting or with the boys. But if Tom wanted to see me, he’d make time but when I try, he can’t. But with all this work, I haven’t really done much outside of this room in a while so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You both used to be so close. Almost like you were twins. Weirdly enough closer than the twins have ever been. I hope you two can work whatever this is out.”

“Me too mum. Me too.” You looked at her as she slowly walked out.

After your mum left the room, you got back to work finalizing your dads stuff. Thankfully it was only 12 am when you finished. Deciding to pack all of the orders so you can drop them off to be shipped in the morning, you went and grabbed everything you would need from the storage closet and got to work. You stayed up all night working. You finally finished all the orders at 9 am. When you realized the time you rushed to get dressed and cleaned up as best you could. By 10 am you were out the door to go to the post office to ship the orders and then you were off to the theater to make sure everything was set. By 1pm the rest of your family showed up. And by 2 the theater was full of people who were excited to see the brothers and the movie.

People knew who you were. Everyone knew Tom had a sister. But you did great staying out of the eye of people. None of your brothers posted much about you on social. Your dad mainly posted about Tom and the brothers golf adventures. Your mum would occasionally when she made you model when she was trying something new. So when people arrived, they walk past you and straight to the four brothers who were ready to greet everyone.

When the event started, you weren’t really needed so you went to a back room they had set up for your brothers to relax away from people and sat on the couch. Not sleeping since Christmas Eve was starting to catch up with you but some how you forced yourself to stay awake.

“Y/n we have a problem.” Your youngest brother said as he came in the room. “The movie hasn’t started yet and it was supposed to 15 minutes ago.”

“Okay I’ll go see what’s going on.” You went to the manager of the theater and she explained to you how the light in the projector went out and it was going to be another 20 minutes before it started. She apologized multiple times.

“Hey Tom. Can you do a q&a for 20 minutes or so?”

“No the movie is supposed to be on.”

“They are having technical difficulties and it’s going to take 20 minutes to fix it.”

Tom got annoyed because he knew this was pushing the entire timeline back and it was now be pushing it for him to be on time for his event tonight. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when we are good to go.”

After 30 minutes. The movie was finally ready to go. Every one was enjoying it and all four of your brothers moved around the theater so the kids felt like they were watching the movie with them personally. When it was over everyone was ushered into a lobby where there was a meet and greet with photos. By the time the boys were done with everyone, it was 20 minutes until Toms next event.

“Great. I’m going to be late. Thanks for that y/n. Why didn’t you have them check everything yesterday?”

“Because I didn’t think of it.”

“So stupid. How could you not think of it? It’s literally the first thing on the list of things to check when prepping the theater. Do your job better. Thats what you are paid to do. I’ll see you later.” Tom rolled his eyes and stormed off. You just stared feeling humiliated since the theater staff and your family had witnessed that. You were holding in your emotional breakdown until you could do it in private.

“Sorry guys. Y’all can go ahead and head out. I’ll clean this up and bring home whatever is ours.” Sam, Harry, and Paddy saw this as a get of jail free card and booked it out of the theater. Your dad came by and kissed you on the head and said I have to finish up some work and headed out. Your mum looked at you sadly.

“I’ll help you baby.”

“No it’s okay mum. Go edit the photos so we can get them sent out.” You smiled at her.

“It’s okay. I can do them later tonight.”

“Mum seriously. Go home. I got this. I’ll be home later. You kissed her on the cheek as you walked back in the theater. You thankfully left the tote yesterday which made it easier to put everything in. You put the tote in your car and headed back in the theater to sweep and clean up the mess. By the time you got home, it was 9 pm. You had been up for 61 hours straight. You were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep. But Tom was home and he was livid.

“What the hell?” He asked.

“What?” You asked back.

“You know I got yelled at by my manger for 30 minutes about how I was irresponsible and immature for being almost a hour late to the event tonight?”

“Why did you get yelled at? You were doing stuff for charity. He should get over it.”

“He was mad because SOMEONE told him I would be done with our event in plenty of time to go to this other one. And when I told him there was technical difficulties because that same SOMEONE didn’t do their job, he got even more mad.”

“I get that I probably should of checked but things happen Tom. Okay? Things I can’t control. Things the theater can’t control. I did this entire event by myself. Sorry for not checking but other than the delay the people loved it and we raised money which is okay because our charity now can help so many more.”

“You didn’t do this by yourself. We all help. And our charity? Our? You mean mine? Sams? Harry’s? Paddys? It’s our faces that make that charity. And when something goes wrong we are the ones that look bad. Not the person behind the scenes that only does some of the work.”

You looked at him like he was a stranger. What he said broke your heart. That’s what he really thought? You just shook your head lightly and walked to your room. You shut the door and locked it.

“Really Tom?” Your mum asked as her and your dad walked in during the argument.

“Yeah mum. We do all the work and she’s trying to take the credit. We’ve all noticed and it’s getting out of hand. You do more than she does.”

“Tom I’m extremely disappointed in you right now.” Your dad said.

“Tom she does all of the work. The planning, the scheduling, the packaging, social media, distributing the money, and figuring out all the ways we can make money to help those smaller charities.” Your mum added.

“She does?”

“Yes Tom. On top of helping me and your father with our businesses. We’ve seen you more than her this past month because she’s been so busy.” Your mum said.

“Wow.”

“Did you know she was up until 4 am on Christmas night so she could finish the goody bags before we had to prep the theater. That she had those pictures printed so you could sign them for the guest. That she made an itinerary so detailed that nothing could go wrong. Except she didn’t account for technical difficulties. She set up the theater and cleaned the theater all by herself. None of us helped her. We just showed up for the event.” Your mum said.

“Tom have you not noticed how exhausted she looks? It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She’s trying her best to handle everything so we can have everything run smoothly for us. She even mentioned your event and how she needed to get you out of there so you wouldn’t be late. We’ve all been horrible to her by letting her do this by herself.” Your dad said.

“I... I didn’t know. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Tom got up and knocked on your door. He couldn’t hear anything so he tried opening it. He noticed it was locked and went to his old room and found the key you gave him years ago. When he unlocked it he noticed the mess around your room of boxes, plastic, mail bags for packages, and stacks of papers. He saw you on your bed and saw you were asleep. He went over and tucked you in. He went to your desk and saw the white board with everything marked off under the to do list. He then looked on your desk and saw how your mum and dads plans were finalized. He knew you mentioned everything when you asked him for help Christmas night and now you were done with it. Even all the orders were done and he saw the receipt from the post office proving the orders were shipped. He felt horrible knowing the only way that you got everything done was by staying up all night.

He turned and walked back to you and finally noticed the bags under your eyes. As well as tear stains that he knows he’s the cause for. It broke his heart knowing he was the cause. It also broke knowing that you asked for help so you wouldn’t fall in the deep end, but by saying he couldn’t help, he pushed you in and watched you drown without even realizing.

He gave you a kiss on the head and got up and quietly walked out.

“What time did y/n wake up on Christmas Day?”

“From what we know, maybe around 8 or 9.” Your dad said. Tom sat there quietly while doing the math in his head.

“61 hours.” He suddenly said.

“What?” Your mum said.

“61 hours. That’s how long she went without sleep. She asked me for help and told me why and I said no. She’s finished the list. She’s organized both of your stuff. She’s packed and shipped out all of the orders. She did everything for the event. She hasn’t slept. She’s asleep now but it was 61 hours. How could I let my sister do that? How did I not see it?” Tom asked his parents. They looked at him in shock.

“My poor baby” your mum said.

“We will talk to her tomorrow when she wakes up.” Your dad said.

“I want to be here when she wakes up so I can apologize. I’m going to go see her again.”

He got up and walked to your room. He quietly started cleaning up the mess left from packaging orders. He then laid on the other side of your bed thinking about how he messed up so bad. Shortly after he fell asleep too.

-——————

Around 7 am you woke up still exhausted but you needed a glass of water. When you went to throw the blanket off of you, you saw Tom asleep in your bed still in his clothes from the night before.

You were confused as to why he was in your bed, but you chose to ignore him. You stood up and went to the kitchen. Your mum was already cooking breakfast.

“Morning baby. How’d you sleep?” Your mum asked.

“Alright. I’m probably going to catch a few more hours. Just needed water.” You said. “By the way, do you know why Tom is in my bed?”

“He felt bad about how he has treated you lately.” She said. “He figured out you went 60 something hours without sleep.”

You looked at her shocked and sat down. She came over and gave you a hug.

“Why did you do that to yourself? Why didn’t you ask for help?” Your dad said as he joined both of you in the kitchen.

“You were working on new stuff. Mum had shoots and a house to run. I asked Tom and thought maybe him and the boys could help but they had plans. It needed to be done before the new year and definitely needed to be done before the event.”

“We appreciate you so much baby girl. I hope you know that. You do a lot for this family and this family isn’t great at giving back. We do love you.” Your mum said as she gave you a kiss on the head. “Now please go get some sleep. Sleep all day if you’d like and I can bring you food later.”

You smiled at her and walked back to your room. Tom still hadn’t moved. You sat your water on your bedside table and crawled back under the covers. You turned your back towards Tom. You were still really saddened by his words last night, that you didn’t want to face him yet.

“Y/n/n are you awake?” You heard Tom whisper.

“Go back to sleep or get out.” You said back not opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry y/n. What I said last night was wrong. I didn’t realize you do everything for our trust. I thought mum and dad did it all. I know you’ve been killing yourself to try and catch up then get ahead, but you can’t do that to yourself. You need proper rest. I’m going to make sure you never do the 61 hours straight again. I’d rather myself do it before I let you do it again.”

“Tom it’s okay. But seriously. Leave or go back to sleep.”

“No it’s not okay. I’ve royally fucked up. I’ve let us get so far apart we are almost strangers to one another. I have a charity that doesn’t even have your name on it and you do all the work. You make sure my fans are happy as well as making sure we help other small charities. You’re absolutely amazing and I’ve treated you like shit for the last few years. I don’t even give you the time of day. I promise you this, I will do better. We will be like we used to. Even if I have to kidnap you and take you with me different places. I love you and I don’t want to be the one hurting you anymore.”

You rolled over and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Your brother finally recognized you for you. He finally realized what he’s done.

“Thank you Tom. I love you too.”

He smiled at you and leaned over to give you a hug and kiss on the forehead.

“It really means a lot that you said that. But can I please go back to sleep. I’m still exhausted.” You said.

Tom pulled you to him so your head was on his chest and shoulder. And he cuddled you so you felt protected from all the horrible things that can go wrong for you.

“Get some sleep and when you wake up, me and you will hang out. Just the two of us.” Tom said. You smiled as you drifted back to sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland sister #brother!tom holland #holland!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x sister!reader #angst #fluff ending #the brothers trust #tom holland facfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #y/n holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #brother!tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland angst #holland!sister

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years ago

Text

Terrible to Meet You - A Harry Styles One Shot - Act 4, And love blooms in hearts not fields

Harry wants to get out of the house. Alex wants to get home.

Alex meets Harry at at crossroads. Harry meets Alex on a one way street.

A coffee shop OU fic feat. lattes, lamingtons & that Great Unfathomable Feeling.

Story Page Here Terrible to Meet You Playlists My Masterlist Here

7 Minutes 'It doesn't seem like long, but my whole world has changed'

Harry's insides were shaking.

He could feel it vibrating up and down his spine, circling his ribcage and then settling uncomfortably at the back of his throat. The nerves and anxiety sped around his body the closer to the Heathrow they got.

Tears threatened to pierce his eyes each time he looked over at Alex beside him. She was staring out the window saying silent goodbyes to London as they drove.

Harry really didn't understand how this moment came so quickly. He knew that Alex's feelings were as mixed as his. Harry wanted her to go home, she'd been trying all year. Heartsick and homesick, she'd pushed through living on the other side of the world to her family as the world suffered through something horrifying.

After getting the email, her last week in London was bittersweet. It was spent packing up her room and saying goodbyes for the second, third times. Harry helped her organise herself, and then put himself in isolation with Alex for her final 48 hours. She needed to present a negative COVID test to Australian officials before she could fly. Getting tested and locking themselves away together for two days was a special kind of magic, really. They didn't have to share each other.

After Harry, Alex was saddest to say goodbye to The Daily Dose.

She was going to miss Paul. Despite his eccentricities, he somehow managed to always keep the tone light and playful with her, and generally, the days passed quickly. Alex left Sydney for London after a gruelling university course left her feeling unmoored and unsure of herself, her time working for Paul had been an enormous time of discovery and healing for her.

He'd been a source of comfort and support for her, especially in the last year, and he was the shoulder she'd cried on far too often. Alex loved making coffee despite how most people saw the job. There was a satisfaction in the process, even in the daily grind—the cleaning, the busyness, the dead patches—and Alex liked leaving the cafe in the afternoon with the smell of coffee seeping out of her but a clean shop locked up ready for the next day.

She was going to miss that. But at the same time, Alex felt ready to go on and do more with her time now. The university degree hanging in her parent's study didn't feel like a straight-jacket anymore, and she was looking forward to finding work in her field.

London had been home for four years, though. She had many great memories here, not the least of which it was the city she flew the coup and found herself in. And the magic she thought was lost seemed to have redeemed itself in the final months of her being there.

She found herself, and then, she'd found Harry.

&&&

Saying goodbye to Harry was the hardest thing Alex had ever done.

They'd both cried the night before, but when it was time to part at the airport Harry was steadfast in his encouragement of her leaving. (Despite himself) He'd never once said he (seriously) didn't want her to leave, or that she shouldn't. He'd never implied it would spell doom for their relationship. Harry was 100% sure that Alex going back home to Australia was just the next line in their story, and certainly not the last one.

"You get home safely, okay?" Harry told her sternly, holding her face between his hands at the drop-off line. Both their masks were down around their chins, and Harry hated the tears he couldn't stop Alex from shedding, "This is a good thing, Al, you need to be home right now."

"I know," she nodded bravely, frowning as her chin wobbled, "But I don't want to leave—

"Shh, no," Harry shook his head and leaned closer, "You're not leaving me, you're going home.”

"When am I going to see you again though," she cried out, finally giving in to the (slightly) hysterical emotions that were bubbling just below the surface.

Harry's heart rattled watching the wave of doubt hit her. He pressed his lips into her hairline and held her for another long moment.

"You'll see me in Dubai on your stopover," he'd said, rocking her against his chest, his words hurried against the material of her shirt, “You'll land, use the bathrooms, and then FaceTime me. That's when you'll see me next. And then, you'll see me when you get to Sydney and call me again. Okay?

"Okay," Alex parroted quietly.

"Okay … You really have to go now," Harry looked behind her to where the doors to the terminal were.

She nodded and reached up onto her tippy toes, letting Harry press his warm lips against hers once last time. Alex squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold in tears but also the feel of him. His smell, where his body began and ended, how it measured up next to hers.

Their hearts reached out, trying to feel the other pressing through their chests from the other side. You're mine, you're mine, they said to each other.

"I love you," Harry told her, not for the first time.

Seeing the red wetness around Harry's eyes, Alex threaded her hands through his hair, "I love you, too."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips again, "Go."

Harry's belief that they were going to be okay was unwavering.

If 2020 taught him anything, the whole world could change in a matter of weeks, so why not the entire outlook of his life as well? Why couldn't his meeting Alex change the course of both their lives moving forward? Something about meeting her felt like a one-time event, like something worth risking everything for. And he would, Harry told her numerous times that last week.

And as she walked away from him and into Heathrow, and Alex believed him.

&&&

Alex cried as her flight landed at Sydney International Airport.

She'd watched the harbour out her window as the plane circled the city, that perfect Sydney turquoise blue gleaming back up at her and it made her chest ache with relief.

Home.

Sydney airport was a stark change from the Heathrow she left behind. Their flight was met by police, abundance and army officers. It wasn't frightening though, Alex found herself swallowing back tears this time because she was so soothed by the fact she was back in Australia. Everyone was friendly and helpful, getting the flight of returning citizens through the airport and onto buses to the quarantine hotels. Alex's drove straight into the city centre and as soon as they started going by familiar places and landmarks she wasn't the only one teary in their seat.

"Well, here it is," Alex said to the phone screen not long after, tilting it around to show off the hotel room around her, "Home for the next fourteen days."

"Snazzy," Harry whistled as she pulled back the sheer curtains to reveal a staggering blue sky and then bright green treetops. He was sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of tea and a drizzly London morning just beginning, "And a view! Is that a balcony? Or a window?"

"A balcony but it's locked. I did get to smell the salty, beautiful harbour in the two-second walk from the bus into the hotel though." Alex settled on the bed in the middle of the room, the bedding crisp and clean underneath her, "I am literally inside this room for two weeks. No outside time. But I can see people outside walking around and having picnics in Hyde Park without masks on, so it'll be worth it."

"That seems unreal."

"It's like another world here," Alex agreed, yawning and finally feeling her body start to relax. "Anyway, how was your day yesterday? Wait, no, today?"

Harry laughed, "You've lost two days, I think. But it was good. I went and saw Paul, we had a cry together."

"Don't," she warned him, feeling the combination of over-tiredness and emotion simmering in her throat, "I've just travelled thirty-six hours, and I fucking miss you already, I'm not beyond completely losing it right now."

He smiled gently, "Have a shower and get into bed. I'm so glad you're there. Does it feel good to be home?"

"So good," Alex admitted, almost feeling like it was a dirty thing to be admitting to Harry, "Jess is going to come and wave at me from the park tomorrow with Noah. My mum's already sent a bunch of food to my room."

"You're exactly where you need to be," Harry told her.

Alex couldn't hold back her tears any longer, the guilt she felt—the pain of leaving Harry—wasn't any match to finally being where she'd wanted to be all year, "Yeah, I am."

&&&

Figure 8 'Lovers hold on to everything'

Four days into her quarantine, Alex started training herself to do headstands.

"It's harder than it looks! But I'm getting there now," She laughed, propping her phone up against the leg of the bed and crawling to the wall opposite. She was now on Day 11, and Harry had been getting an update daily.

"Please don't injure yourself," Harry moaned, getting a great view of her bum as she crouched down facing the wall and then rose up, kicking her legs up with her palms flat on the floor.

"See?" The blood all rushed to her head, and Alex's hair fell down over her face at the same time her t-shirt moved, revelling her belly and bra to Harry.

"Much better than yesterday," he told her, "Maybe tomorrow we could lose the bra?"

Alex laughed, her arms shaking as she came crashing to the ground. She was still working on the landing.

Just as she was about to reply, she heard a knock on the door, "Oh!"

"Dinner?" Harry guessed, watching her leap to her feet and disappear from view. A moment later, her legs walked across the screen, and Harry rolled over in bed to try to rid his phone screen of the glare coming from his windows open to the new London morning. "Oi!"

"Calm your farm," Alex tutted, retrieving her phone and grinning at Harry, "You'll never guess what I've got today."

"Hmm," Harry hummed in mock thought, "Let me guess, chicken and rice. A cookie and a ridiculous allotment of fruit?"

"Two bananas, an apple and four apricots."

"S'practically a fruit basket!"

"Tomorrow I get a glass of wine," Alex was already chewing, "Friday night drinks!"

"Friday date night?" Harry suggested, his fingers twitching with the want to be feeling her body between his sheets again, "You're fun when you're a little tipsy."

"Excuse me, I'm always fun!"

Harry laughed, "I can't believe you're so upbeat still. I'd been expecting a dip at some point. I would think a lot of people don't do so well in isolation for two weeks."

"I've got Australian daytime TV and a boyfriend who sends fun gifts,” she eyed the collection of books and puzzles Harry had organised, “I am looking forward to Sunday though."

Harry couldn't imagine how much Alex was looking forward to getting to see her family and friends when her time in quarantine ended, "Did you get tested today?"

"Yes," Alex screwed up her face, the memory of the swab up her nose still fresh, "Fucking hurt."

"Last one," he encouraged. "What's the first thing you're going to do with your brother when he picks you up?"

She halted before putting the next mouthful of warm, lacklustre dinner in her mouth, "It's supposed to be sunny and warm on Sunday, but I don't get released until the evening. So I think we'll just go to mum and dads for tea. Jess and Matt are going to be there."

"A large gathering in the home!" Harry looked scandalised, but he was smiling.

"I know, it's all very 2019," Alex joked.

Harry let out a long sigh from his chest, "I'm so happy you're there, but I miss you."

"You too," she said quietly.

"Hey," Harry called out, not having meant to dampen the mood, "Three sleeps until you get to meet Noah."

The mention of her nephew made Alex smile, "I'm gonna squeeze him so hard."

"Will you FaceTime me there?"

"O'course," her mouth was full, but she nodded emphatically. "My mum asked if we were going to have live music at all family events now."

Harry's laugh exploded out of him, he liked Alex's family very much already, "Happy to oblige."

"Because of you she's also back on Nathan about giving up the trombone in Year 8." Alex told him, "He was previously the musical hope for the family, but he stopped when the girl he liked at fourteen said she would only date a rugby player … Consequently, that girl is also responsible for how Nathan broke his nose."

Harry could sympathise with Alex's older brother, "We do crazy things for love."

&&&

"Could you say that again?"

"Were you not listening?"

"No I was, I just like hearing it in your accent."

"Harry," Alex complained, "I'm already shit at this."

"You're not!" He insisted, trying desperately to keep the grin at bay.

Alex frowned at him and pulled the hotel duvet up to her chin, crossing her legs and slipping her free arm across her chest. Harry's heart was racing, hearing her talk about how his words were making her feel was incredible. Almost as good as physically having her. Almost.

"Al," Harry stilled at the defeated look on her face. His smile disappeared, "Sorry, I wasn't teasing."

"I'm no good a phone sex, it feels weird."

"I know it does at first," he tentatively reassured her, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that over the years Harry had become sort of good at phone sex. By virtue of necessity, such was his regular travel schedule. "I promise it can be great, and we can only get better at it. You're not no good. On the contrary, I'm enjoying myself very much."

She was finding it difficult. And even more so, trying to learn Harry and what he liked—how his body responded—without actually having his body physically there felt impossible. Phone sex was awkward and difficult, and Alex was more self-conscious then she'd ever been, trying to navigate intimacy with Harry through a phone screen. There was a divide there. He was right though, the undercurrent to what he said was that they'd have to get better, there was no other choice. It was all they had.

"Show me what you were doing," Harry beckoned gently, sensing Alex relaxing back into the moment. "And just imagine I'm there, don't apologise for angles or lighting. I don't care."

It was her last day in the hotel, and Alex had woken up with an ache between her thighs. Harry Facetimed her the instant he got the photo of her lying in the sheets, her torso exposed and wishing for his touch. He'd been sitting at home on his Saturday night, watching the first five minutes of half a dozen things on Netflix yet not finding his mind was able to focus on any.

Alex he could focus on though.

Her five seconds of bravery felt far away now, but Alex slowly pushed down the bedding again, "I was thinking about you going down on me."

Harry smiled, "Go on."

&&&

Nineteen 'I felt you in my life before I ever thought to'

Three months passed.

The dreaded milestone ticked over which meant Harry and Alex had been separated the same amount of time they'd spent together in London.

It hadn't ever felt like this for Harry before.

He'd never known what this kind of missing someone was. Previously, he'd missed people, but not with a yearning or a longing that made his chest ache. Not with the kind of force that had him lying in bed at night unable to switch off the channel tuned to Alex.

What time was it in Sydney? Had he already sent her that link? Did she say she was spending the day with her dad? What could he say to get her back in that bikini from the day before?

Missing Alex felt like having an itch inside his mind he couldn't scratch.

But in a sense, how much he wanted to be with her only made his consequent decisions easier.

"You're hopeless!" His manager laughed him from LA, the whole team on the weekly check-in Zoom call. Generally there wasn't a lot to report between them, projects were on hold or cancelled. Harry had decided not to go back to the States to work on a few smaller things—a fashion shoot, a TV guest appearance and a small role in a film—giving his legal team some work in getting him out of contracts, but that was mostly sorted now.

If he was going anywhere, it sure as hell wasn't across the Atlantic.

"Not hopeless," Harry replied diplomatically, "It's something else … But it's not hopeless. It almost feels like having the answer and being the little kid jumping up and down on the spot, dying for the teacher to hurry up and ask the question."

A series of blank looks came back at him. Harry sighed. He'd never been bad at explaining his personal life before. It was always so rational, the relationships made sense or happened in a usual way. He just couldn’t shake the notion that all along, people had been right.

When you know you know.

He'd found Alex.

That was as simple as it was to him. But it didn't settle everyone else the way it settled Harry.

Alex.

Did the name not tick a checkbox in their heads too?

"So, you're going to Australia?"

"I just want to know what it could look like," Harry amended the assumption, but yes, he was going to end up wherever Alex did, and if that was Australia then that was that.

"Who's in Australia?"

The question wasn't to Harry, it wasn't about who he was going to Australia for., they all knew who Alex was. The question was about the industry—about Harry's career. It was who was in Australia for him to work with? Frankly, he didn’t see why the same people he worked with now couldn’t also be the people he continued working with either remotely, or with short trips abroad when travel allowed.

"Obviously, it's not like everything can be done there," Harry offered diplomatically, "But at least for the foreseeable future, with the world how it is … Music as the primary focus, I want to write the next album there. Spend some time seeing the country too, I've always wanted to."

He got a collection of nods, and a few spoken agreements, assurances that it could work.

"This isn't a temporary thing," he said of Alex, looking at the faces who helped him run his life, "We're going to be navigating this for the rest of my career. So everyone's going to need to add Sydney time to their Clock app."

&&&

When he met Alex, Harry knew.

When he landed in Sydney, Harry knew again.

It was the right choice, it was the right place for him to be. All he wanted was to be moving in her direction; in the same direction as her.

It was warm despite the late hour, the air was fragrant with it, in stark contrast to the London he left behind.

He tried to think back to the last time he’d been in Australia, to what it felt like back then.

If only he’d know then …

Harry opted not to apply for any special considerations or circumstances. He didn't want anything to jeopardise him being able to enter what was likely the world's most difficult country to get into now—especially seeing as Harry wasn't a resident, much less a citizen. Harry didn't want to hit the news. And despite evidence of people he knew in the industry being able to dictate where they quarantined on arrival, Harry requested nothing. He just wanted to fly in, go to whatever hotel they told him to, do his two weeks quarantine and then be with her.

"Have you landed?" Alex's voice was urgent and tinged with excitement.

Harry laughed, "Yes, how do you think I'm calling."

She squeaked, "You're here!"

"I'm here," he smiled under his mask, following the flow of fellow travellers walking through the empty airport, "Who ever heard of an International Airport having a curfew though? The pilot made the joke that if we were projected to land even a minute after 11pm, he'd have to turn around and go back to London. Which was like, a joke, but also not funny?"

Alex chortled, "You'll have to get used to the sense of humour here."

"Hang on," Harry saw a checkpoint of sorts ahead of him, "I have to go. I'll call you back."

"Call me from the hotel," she said, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

&&&

"Go to the window."

“Hi. What?" Harry could barely move his head off the pillow as his eyes struggled to open.

"Go to your window," Alex repeated, "Were you asleep?"

He sat up, heart thrumming quickly at the possibility of what he was going to see. A second before his mind had only barely been able to scramble together the cognitive function to swipe to answer the call.

When he got to the window, Harry pulled back the curtains—he'd ended up at the same hotel Alex had been in too—his room looked out over Sydney's Hyde Park, the fountain and cathedral framing his window. Although his top floor room with a (locked) balcony was a little bigger than hers had been he still felt as if he was living in their FaceTime calls. He was sure he'd become more acquainted with the trees and greenery out his window as the days passed.

"What am I looking for?" He asked, but Harry knew.

"I'm down here, can you see me? Blue jeans shorts … Yellow top? I've got a sign!"

Harry's eyes scanned the footpath opposite the hotel, there was a main road between him and the park. He'd been in the room less than 12 hours though, so he wasn't familiar with the foot traffic.

"I can't… Wait, I see you," his mouth opened in a huge smile, "Hi!"

Harry waved and pressed his hand to the window as his heart waved down at Alex's. He felt like his insides were being swapped around inside him as he took his first look at her in the flesh in nearly thirteen weeks. She had sunglasses sitting up on top of her head and a The New Yorker tote bag over her shoulder. He bit his lip at all the exposed skin he was looking at, feeling it a cruel injustice in the fact he would be touching his girlfriend for a fortnight.

Alex was squinting up at the hotel, one hand to her forehead, blocking the sun while the other held her phone to her ear, "How high up at you?"

"Next to the yellow and red flag," he said, looking for a distinguishing feature. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of the rope flapping against the building.

Alex's voice took a teasing tone, "Oh, who's that sexy man with his shirt off in the hotel window?"

"I can't read your sign."

"I only had a Biro," she lamented, shoving the makeshift sign under her arm, "It just says Hi."

"Hi," Harry leant his forehead into the window, "You look beautiful."

"So do you."

"You going to stand out there for the next two weeks?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Yes, please."

Harry watched her take a step back and lean against the wall to the park behind her, "I'd better get comfy then."

&&&

There was a couple in the room next door to Harry.

"I'm telling you, it's relentless," he implored Alex with his eyes, pausing for a second to listen to the sound of their bed hitting the wall, "They're at it constantly."

"Embrace it, some people are into that," Alex giggled from her parent's kitchen. She was making dinner for the whole family, with her AirPods in and Harry chatting to her as she chopped vegetables. "Let it get you in the mood, Harry. Is that voyeurism, or exhibitionism? I can never—"

"—Okay," He rolled his eyes, "Thank you, Comedian."

"You're just jealous you're not getting any."

"I really am," Harry said seriously, "If I have to wait, so should they."

Alex's laugh filled his ears, "It's alright, less than a week to go now."

"I cannot wait to be holding you," he said, longing in his voice.

Harry had mixed feelings leaving London. He didn't know when he'd be back, but at the very least he was going to miss his first Christmas with his family. With England in lockdown, it was unlikely that even if he had stayed, he would be able to spend it with them anyway, but Harry would miss them. He already missed them.

It wasn't like he missed Alex, though. And in all the conversations he'd had with his mum, or his sister, or anyone else, they'd all told him to go for her. They saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice when he spoke about her. Or maybe their hearts knew as well, as though Harry meeting Alex had been locked away in them all and now the light to that room was switched on.

So there he was, in Australia. To be with his love.

&&&

Ten Days 'Time has changed nothing at all, you're still the only one that feels like home'

Harry asked the nurse who took his last COVID swab to help him.

He hadn't requested anything up until that point, but he knew, even behind her protective gear, she was a friendly face. And he also knew that there were rumblings online that he was in Sydney. (All those spare and jet lag hours, he'd tried to stay off the internet, he really had)

The good news was it was just rumblings, because why on earth would Harry Styles be in Sydney.

All it would take was one photo to confirm it though, which in a sense, was fine, he didn't care.

But Harry didn't want that photo to be of any of his first moments back with Alex.

Let someone snap a picture in a couple of weeks, on a random beach or coming out of a cafe somewhere. Just not his first day. Not when he hadn't seen her since the beginning of September almost three months ago.

He asked if the nurse could help him arrange Alex for access to the hotel car park because the discharge information pack he'd received directed him to organise pick up on the street.

The next two days went slowly, those final 48 hours, waiting for a negative result and trying like anything to bat away fears that it wouldn't be the same. That somehow Harry and Alex would've lost the something that lit the spark in London.

He hated that feeling—the doubt—and when he confessed it to his sister, she batted it away as nerves. She said life was always full of uncertainty and risks, the idea was to choose the ones you thought were worth taking.

&&&

Alex stared at her legs as she sat, waiting for Harry in her dad's car.

It hadn't taken long to get the colour back to them, although mostly she was fixated on how she should have dressed a little nicer for the first time seeing Harry in months. She didn't even have proper shoes on, just the thongs that she'd kicked off the night before after coming back from the park with the dogs.

Harry hadn't seen this side of her. This casual, probably more Australian sounding Alex. The one with bare feet and sunglasses holding her hair back. He'd met her family over video calls, but what would Harry think when he was in a room full of them? They were loud and could have distasteful senses of humour. There were family jokes that Alex had never thought twice about before but now worried Harry wouldn't appreciate.

She'd slipped back into the comforting hum of life in Sydney so easily. Her friends, her family, her city. When she left Sydney hadn't felt like home, but as soon as she stepped back into it something in Alex let out a sigh of return. It was strange, leaving London just at the end of the summer months and falling straight into the beginning of a new summer here.

In front of her, Alex sensed movement. The door she'd been instructed to park in front of opened, and a very tall man in an army uniform stepped into the underground car park, propping open the door with his foot. He pointed to Alex in the front seat and said something to Harry, who was the next person to appear, followed by a nurse in full PPE.

Alex felt an explosion in her chest, an electric shock or a bolt of lightning. Two hearts jumping up and down in excitement.

She cracked the car door open and heard Harry thanking the two people escorting him, his hands moved as though they were itching to add a handshake to the gesture.

As soon as Alex was in his eyesight though Harry didn't think about anyone else.

She emerged and hovered by the front of the car, waiting for Harry to approach her, as if unsure what she was allowed to do. The sight of her in an oversized hoodie and small athletic shorts warmed him instantly. She looked perfect, with a tan that evaded her in London and a brightness behind her eyes Harry was addicted to already. He liked the thought that he was an errand, that picking up her boyfriend was on a list of things for her to do that day. The word 'normal' flashed in Harry's mind, and any worry he'd had about her or him or them together being different from how he remembered it disappeared.

"Hi," he smiled wide as he tugged down the mask covering his face and stepped right into her personal space, his bag and suitcase abandoned behind him.

Speechless, Alex breathed Harry in deeply through tears as she was tightly wrapped up in his arms. She couldn't bring any words to the surface, and so they just stood in silence, holding each other.

After a moment Harry turned his face into her neck and pressed a slow, warm kiss below her ear, "Hello, hello, hello," he said between kisses.

It only made Alex's crying increase, and she squeezed him tighter while leveraging herself higher up his body, not yet willing or able to step away.

"Alex," Harry said her name gently, "Let me see you, please."

She leant back but covered her cheeks with her sleeves, peering over at Harry through blurry eyes, "Wait a sec."

He smiled and pulled her hands away by her wrists, "Give me a kiss."

&&&

"You're such a tourist," Alex laughed as she drove, watching Harry lean forward in the passenger seat and try to take a photo through the windscreen of the Sydney Harbour Bridge above them.

"You know bridges are my passion," he said dryly.

She smiled as he sat back and slipped his hand back into hers.

"I quite like you driving," Harry said, eyeing her in the drivers' seat, "Look at you knowing your way around."

Alex grinned under her sunglasses, "We're in my city now, baby."

&&&

Harry's mouth hovered hotly over the skin below Alex's breasts.

"Harry," she ran her fingers through his hair, hating the anticipation.

His lips upturned at the impatience behind her saying his name. He pressed a kiss to the skin there, then another half an inch further down her tummy, "M'not in a hurry."

"I am," Alex urged.

"Oh?" Harry stopped and looked up at her, his elbows on either side of her hips as he held himself over her, "You are?"

"Yes."

"Going somewhere after this?"

She whined, whined, "No, Harry."

Alex hadn't taken him home to her family. Not yet.

She drove an hour out of the city to a beach suburb with what Alex had deemed the nicest Airbnb. It was private, and without Sydney's usual cohort of international tourists, the area was deserted except for locals. They could hear the ocean from the bedroom and see if from the kitchen. She'd booked them two nights; two nights to reconnect and just live in the presence of each other without her family stepping in and inevitably stealing Harry's heart.

(Except, of course, it was Alex's heart who has his, all this time)

"Look at you, fuck," Harry said, tilting back up to take her lips in his, pressing his torso, his thighs, his stomach, his hardened crotch into her. "Fucking gorgeous."

"We can do slow later," she all but begged, her fingers digging into his exposed back, "Please. Just … Just please, Harry."

Alex felt his hand brush over her thigh, deliciously trailing over the sensitive skin just below her hip bone and down between them. His eyes dipped down between them only briefly before Alex was feeling the tip of him pressing into her exactly where she needed it.

"Yes," her body relaxed into the feeling, remembering the London nights, the mornings and that first time in his living room.

"Alex," Harry said her name like he could hardly believe it, and at the same time as wanting to savour the moment he was thinking of their first, hurried time as well. His hips snapped forward, remembering that time the rush came from wanting to taste, to experience something new and to have Alex's body for his own the first time.

The urgency behind Harry's movements this time were for want of something had and sorely missed, something already claimed but given up for a time.

Alex's head was stretched back onto the pillow underneath him while she felt her body shift and squeeze around him. She wrapped her arms around his chest to feel him closer, wanting to hold onto him as he pumped in and out, sighing against her neck, trying to regulate himself.

"God, Al."

"Harry."

&&&

Four nights later, tucked into the spare room at her parent's house, Harry rolled over and took her hand.

"I think we should get a place here."

"A what?"

"A flat, a house, we should rent something in Sydney."

"Sydney?" Alex's tone elevated, almost touching the spinning ceiling fan above them.

"Yes, Sydney," Harry repeated, "You mentioned a job you liked the look of a few weeks ago, did you apply for it? "

"But what about London? That's where you live, God, what about your work, Harry."

"I want to be here, I'm not in any hurry to go back to what normal was. Normal didn't have you," Harry said, throwing out the script he'd built in his head the last month. His heart was doing the talking, extempore, "I've watched you this week, Alex, it's like you're a whole different person here. You're so happy and settled and joyful, which, by the way, I already thought you were but here … Do you really want to go again? Could you leave your family again?"

Alex felt her chest going into overdrive like everything was whirring around too quickly. She felt had to be honest, though, despite the way it made the fear climb further up her throat, "No. I don't want to leave."

Harry brought her knuckles up to kiss, "I don't want you to leave, either. So, what if we stayed? For as long as it's where you need to be?"

"But your family—

"—Doing this means one of us is always going to be away from someone," Harry told her, "I can handle missing my family, Al, I can't handle missing you. You're it."

"It just seems like too much to ask you to do, Harry."

"You're not asking," he insisted. "I can figure out how to work from here. London was my home base, I spent a lot of the year away anyway. And it's not that much further to LA for stuff, I … I'm saying I can make it work here, Alex. I want to make it work with you."

Alex's heart did a cartwheel, "You want to stay in Sydney?"

Harry's somersaulted, "I want to stay with you, yes."

The End. &&&

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Thanks for reading, everyone! x Kate

Tag list: @afterhoursharry @beautifuleclipses @bumbershots @coffee-doodle-doo @decadentdonkeyflowerzonk @elemayox @ficsthatmakemeswoon @finelinesupremacy @greatestview @hatnightin2008 @ifiwereaboy2323 @ihearthemcallingforyou @just-damn-bored @kakaym @kara-246 @lifeandsomethingelse @luminescencefics @micurq27 @miorni @monpetitchouchou16 @morethanamelodyy @piawhat @rubytersteege @staceystoleyourheart @stepping-into-the-light @steppingonoranges @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @tpwkhoney @ursamajor603 @veryplatoniccircunstances @wanderlustiing @whatevarandomlygoes

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#fic: terrible to meet you #fic #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #1dff #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles long #hs fic

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ideks-on-mars · 4 years ago

Text

Half-Brothers?

The Taichi-Naoyasu Situation

Taichi and Naoyasu are half-brothers and here's how lol

Taichi's mother and father had both met in their birth country of Germany. However, his grandparents on his mother's side hadn't approved of his father. The two had then decided to study a good amount of Japanese before saving up for plane tickets and running off to Japan. They changed their last names and had a completely fresh start. The two were madly in love, or at least that's what Taichi's mother thought. She had figured out she was pregnant, with who we know as Taichi, and she was ecstatic. She quickly told Taichi's father and his reaction was the exact opposite of what she expected. The man was furious and didn't want anything to do with the woman or baby. After hours of begging and yelling the man had left the German woman to fend for herself and her unborn baby. She picked up a few different jobs at small stores, extra shifts and she would make good friends that were more than happy to help her, two of those friends being the Shirabu's who also had a baby on the way. Her life in Japan was getting better. And on April 15, 1995, her baby Taichi, was born. She had changed her name after the "Love of her life" had left. Her last name was Kawanishi. And now, all she had was her, her friends, and her beloved baby.

Meanwhile, almost exactly 4 months before Taichi was born. A small, fragile, pale woman, had been another victim of the man. She had found out she was pregnant by him during January 1996. The woman was, just like the last, left soon after. The woman was young and hadn't even been in Japan for too long. She had came to Japan from her home country of Finland due to that fact that it had always been a dream of hers to move in with her grandmother, who moved to Japan when she was two. She was intelligent though, and knew languages like Finnish, Slovak, German, and Japanese. She could also keep up a normal conversation in English and Danish. She was confident in her ability to take care of a baby and she studied extra hard, wanting to be able to get a decent job for her and her baby.

After graduating from college, she was now about seven months pregnant. She lived with her grandma and she was working as a translator for people visiting Japan. She had, who we know as, Naoyasu Kuguri, not long after. However, the older he had gotten, his mother had taught him more Finnish, Slovak, and German than Japanese. He knew some Japanese, of course, they lived in Japan. However his mother thought that all he needed was her and the only person he should feel the absolute need to talk to was her.

TIME SKIP

Multiple years later and Taichi is now seventeen with Naoyasu being sixteen. STZ was having a practice match against Nohebi and they were having a small break between the first and second set.

"Kawanishi-Kun~...doesn't number twelve over there remind you of yourself~ hehe~"

Kawanishi turned to the place his upperclassmen, Tendō Satori, was pointing towards, curious as to what he was talking about.

Taichi scanned the other team until his eyes landed on number twelve. The boy had a lean, yet muscular build, his height similar to Semi's. He had a bored expression on his face and a water bottle in hand. His eyes were pointed at the end, very similar to Taichi's. The only difference was that number twelve's eyes rounded into the point. Taichi's were more of a obtuse angle that lead to the point. Their eyelids were both very pointy. His eyebrows were thicker than Taichi's and his pupils were a lot bigger and more circle shaped, compared to Taichi's oval shaped pupils. Taichi's eyes were silver gray, number twelve's eyes seemed to be green with a hint of grey. Taichi's hair was a darker ginger, thick, and messy. Yet number twelve's hair was...interesting. His hair was a blonde mixed with brunette, leaving him with a very light brown bedhead. However his eyebrows were darker.

"He does look...kind of like me..."

"Kind of", was a bit of an understatement, Taichi could go around telling his team that they were related and they'd most likely believe it, except for Kenjirō of course, who knew the whole situation with Taichi's family.

"You should talk to him! You two seem equally as uninterested."

Some of his teammates laughed at Yamagata's joke but Taichi, for once in his life, actually considered going up to the boy and talking to him.

As if God himself had granted him an opportunity, Nohebi's captain walked up to the team, his hand placed on the back of the stoic winged spiker.

"Hey, sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but would any of you mind helping Kuguri-Kun here find the restroom?"

The captain, who they knew was called Daishō, patted the boy's, now known as Kuguri, back twice. Kuguri didn't react though, he stood there beside his captain quietly, slouched and staring at the ground blankly, his hands stuffed into his volleyball jacket pockets. Before anyone could speak, Tendō, not surprisingly, did.

"Oh! Well our dear Kawanishi-Kun would love to escort Kuguri-Kun! Right Kiwi?"

Kawanishi looked at Tendō with an expression that said "are you serious?" but Taichi wasn't one to go against an upperclassmen's wishes, especially Tendō's. Taichi sighed.

"Yes, Tendō-San."

Daishō smiled a snake-like smile, however Taichi didn't think he could help it, and walked away leaving his teammate with the monsters known as Shiratorizawa. Taichi could tell he was uncomfortable so he quickly walked past him towards the exit.

"C'mon, Kuguri-Kun."

He said, his German accent slipping a little. He glanced behind him and saw that Kuguri was sauntering behind him. Taichi stopped, waiting for the slightly shorter male to catch up with him and began to walk at the other's pace.

Taichi got to the door first and held it open for the brunette. He glanced up at Taichi and nodded. However Taichi could've swore he saw the other's eyes widen for point two seconds before he looked back down and walked through the door way. Taichi, even though it was barely audible, heard Kuguri speak.

"Thank you, Kawanishi-San."

The thick, obviously European, accent was clear in his words. Taichi could tell that it was slightly German, but it just had to be another Northern European accent. Taichi quickly shook it off and nodded. They silently headed down the hall, the occasional Shiratorizawa student walking past them. Suddenly, and surprisingly, Kuguri spoke.

"So...where are you from?"

Taichi was taken aback, the other's accent was thicker now. Taichi seemed confused but figured the the other thought he was from somewhere else due to his accent.

"Oh, um, I'm from Japan. It's just that my mother is German and...I knew how to speak German before Japanese."

Kuguri nodded.

"Oh. I was just asking. I spoke Finnish, Slovak and German before I spoke Japanese. I'm still not as good as I should be at it."

Taichi understood. Japanese was no joke, and neither was Finnish, Slovak, and German.

"Well, if speaking in German makes it easier for you, then I don't mind."

(Bold + Red = Speaking in German)

Kuguri smiled happily. It wasn't the biggest smile, more of just the sides of his lips curling upward, but still, a smile.

"Thank you...Naoyasu Kuguri."

Taichi smiled back, a similar smile to the one Naoyasu had shown him before.

"Nice to meet you...I'm Taichi Kawanishi."

The two smiled, happy that they had someone that they could relate to.

"Anyways, I didn't see you on Nohebi last year, are you new?"

"Yeah, I'm a first year..."

TIME SKIP

It was now the end of the match and Nohebi was about to get on their long trip back to Tokyo.

(I looked it up and from Miyagi to Tokyo is 4-6 hours 👀)

The two teams thanked each other for the practice game, all waving as they piled into the bus. Naoyasu was the last one to get on. He turned around and waved at Taichi one more time. Taichi waved back and watched happily as his new friend had drove off. He was glad they had exchanged numbers.

"So you really did make friends with him?"

Taichi looked over at his teammates.

"Yeah. He was pretty chill."

They nodded.

"Did you catch his name?"

"Yeah. Naoyasu Kuguri."

TIME SKIP

The two boys ended up being good friends. They didn't get to hang out as much as they wanted but it was good enough for them due to the fact that they weren't very social people anyway. Though, when they found out that they both got to go to the same training camp, they were excited. In the training camp you actually got time to lay back and chat with people from other teams, giving them the chance to hangout with each other.

The thing was, at this training camp they allowed parents and/or siblings to come. The parents would come watch their children play, help with lunch and dinner, and help with other fun drills and activities, and if they had younger children they were allowed to bring them. That's how a lot of the parents and siblings made good friends with the others. Taichi's mom, Annike, had always come, due to the fact that, 1) she loves and wants to support her son, and 2) she was great friends with most of the moms of his teammates and other teams. She would always bring Taichi's little six-year-old half sister, Takara, who enjoyed playing with the other little ones. She was the result of of Taichi's old stepfather. He was a cool guy and him and his mom were on good terms. Taichi never really gave him a chance though. However, Taichi would never deny the fact that he adored his little sister.

Once they arrived, Taichi quickly scoped out his teammates and joined them whilst his mother conversated with the other parents.

The coaches informed everyone that they would take the first day to let everyone get settled in, eat, and conversate.

Earlier into the day, Taichi heard his name being called.

"Kawanishi-San. Hello."

Taichi turned around, already having an idea of who it was.

"Hi Kuguri-Kun, how've you been?"

"Alright. You?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Naoyasu! Don't run off like that."

(Bold + Blue = Speaking in Finnish)

"Sorry ma."

Taichi looked a little behind Naoyasu and saw a short, pale woman with blonde hair that fell beautifully over her shoulders, he could've swore she was made of glass. She had on light blue jeans and a grey shirt on. Her eyes were the same color as Naoyasu's.

"Who's this?"

Taichi had no clue what she was saying, considering she was speaking in Finnish. Suddenly Naoyasu moved to the side, so that he wasn't between the two and they could meet eyes and Taichi didn't only see one half of her.

"Ma, this is Taichi Kawanishi, a friend of mine. Kawanishi-San, this is my mother."

Taichi remembered that Naoyasu only had his mother and knew that she knew and taught him German, plus Naoyase was just speaking to her in German so he responded in German.

"It's nice to meet you Kuguri-San. I'm good friends with Naoyasu-Kun."

Taichi stuck his hand out. The woman grabbed it, firmly shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you Taichi-Kun. You can call me Aino."

"Taichi!"

Taichi looked behind him to see that his mother had come up behind him. She walked up beside him, a smile on her face, Takara beside her. Taichi's mom had curly, long, ginger hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She had on jeans and a t-shirt just like Miss Aino. She turned over to Aino and now the womans' jaws dropped.

Taichi and Naoyasu looked confused while Takara didn't seem to care all the much, only hugging her big brother's leg. Taichi patted her head, still not taking his eyes off of the two women.

"Aino?"

"Annike?"

Now the boys were beyond confused. They knew each other. Both the women nodded to each other and began to walk away. Taichi tried to call out to his mother.

"Mom-"

"Watch your sister Taichi. I'll be back soon."

Naoyasu tried too.

"Mom where are you-"

"Stay with Taichi, help watch the girl."

"Hi!"

Taichi and Naoyasu both looked at each other, shrugged, and looked down at the little girl, who was now looking up at Naoyasu.

WITH THE WOMEN

The two were behind the building now, staring at each other.

"It's been a while."

"It has."

They both were quiet for a few seconds.

"Is that...his son?"

Aino nodded.

"Yeah...it is. Naoyasu is his. I'm sure Taichi is his, correct?"

"Yeah, he is."

The two women chuckled.

"They're half-brothers."

"Yeah they are. They deserve to know."

Annike nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I can't lie to Taichi any longer."

The two talked more. Catching up with each other and talking about their respective sons. They were nervous to tell their sons, yet excited and happy that they at least had met and are good friends.

AFTER THEY HAD SAT THE TWO BOYS DOWN

Both Taichi and Naoyasu were now sat down on the curb of the parking lot near the building where the training camp was being held. The women were leaning against the Kawanishi's car, both smoking a cigarette. Takara was being watched by some of the Shiratorizawa moms.

Annike dropped the cigarette onto the asphalt and stepped on it, putting it out.

"We have to tell you something important."

The two boys nodded.

"I don't think you both realize how much this will affect you both. This will shock you both tremendously."

The two were hesitant, but nodded. The two women looked at each other and Aino gestured for the other to go ahead and tell the two.

"You two are half-brothers."

The two brothers paused completely. That was until Taichi slapped his thigh and stood up.

"I knew we looked alike!"

He didn't say it in German, causing some other people to look at the usually quiet boy out of curiosity. Taichi bowed towards them apologetically before returning to the situation at hand.

Naoyasu was in shock. Half-brothers? He was just being told now? He assumed that they had the same dad. He wasn't stupid. He put two and two together.

Naoyasu stood up beside Taichi. The two looked at each other not exactly knowing what to do. However, Taichi, who was already a big brother, now of two, had his instincts kick in. Whenever his little sister was confused and was completely lost on what to do, he comforted her, so that's what he did to his new, well new in his life, little brother.

Taichi wrapped his arms around Naoyasu tightly. Naoyasu seemed genuinely scared at first but calmed down quickly. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Taichi, resting his head on Taichi's shoulder.

The two women smiled gently at their sons, both extremely pleased that the two seemed happy. Taichi pulled away and patted both Naoyasu's shoulders.

"Let's go introduce you to your new little sister too."

Naoyasu looked confused.

"But...I'm not related to her."

"You're part of the family now. No escaping."

Taichi and Naoyasu both laughed and began to make their way to the little girl. The moms watched before Annike started walking too. She noticed that Aino wasn't following her and turned around.

"You too, Aino. You're part of the family too."

Aino couldn't even fight the smile creeping onto her face and dropped her cigarette, stepping on it. Annike reached her hand out and Aino grabbed it.

They both rounded the corner and smiled widely when they saw Takara walking between her two big brothers, holding both theirs hands and talking about something with a big smile on her face.

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assembledherethevolunteers · 4 years ago

Text

Request 4

A/N: Hi, everybody! This was supposed to come out…a long time ago, but a friend of mine’s grandmother passed and she was not doing well and then I wasn’t doing well for a couple different reasons…BUT! I am back. This request came from @sydi22. They actually requested 2 with Ben and we decided to combine them. (They requested Ben and reader finding out that she’s pregnant on Christmas morning and the two of them hiding the fact they had twins and everybody coming over and finding out) I hope they and everybody enjoy this!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x female!Reader

Summary: Christmas morning with your husband doesn’t quite go as planned.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sexy time, Mentions of Pregnancy/Complications getting pregnant, Fluff

Taglist: @queenlover05 @zodiacaldust

You could hear you husband milling about the apartment, every now and then saying something to Frankie.

You always loved the way he talked to her, it always made your heart melt a little. You slipped into your dress, which felt a bit tight, but you suspect as much since you hadn’t been to the gym lately. You reached back to zip up your dress, but it seemed to be stuck. You pulled on it tighter, just trying to get the dressed zipped, when you realized you couldn’t breathe. Not well, anyway.

You sighed, knowing that this would lead to some teasing from Ben, and called for him.

“Yes, love?” Ben asked, walking into the room with Frankie on his heels.

“Can you help me get zipped?”

Ben gave you a smirk, but didn’t say anything as you turned around. He took his time, running his hands up your back to where the zipper was stuck. Once one of his hands found the zipper, his other found your ass.

“As much as I would love to take time and enjoy this, your mother will kill us if we’re late to church, so we sort of need to speed this up.”

“I can be fast,” Ben gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

“Rude,” Ben muttered as he tried to zip up your dress. “Um…sweetheart?”

You knew what he was going to say, but still didn’t want to hear it. “What?”

“I er…it’s not…going up. I think it’s…”

“It doesn’t fit does it?”

“I don’t think so, love,” Ben muttered, but pressed a kiss to the side of your neck for comfort.

“Shit,” you sighed. “Well, that’s what I get for not taking care of myself,” you felt tears come to your eyes. You knew it was stupid and it didn’t really matter how you looked, but it still hurt a bit.

“Why don’t you wear that dress you wore to Gwil’s Christmas party? That one was nice.”

“Nice enough for church?” You turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. Your in-laws were usually pretty laid back, but Ben’s grandmother was…not. At least not when it came to major church holidays.

“Whatever you wear will be fine, but we really do need to get going,” Ben started to unzip your dress.

You huffed and stepped out of the dress as Ben sat on the bed, watching you. He watched you curiously more than anything else.

“Is there a reason you’re looking at me like that?”

“I can’t enjoy watching my wife half naked?”

“You can,” you replied, walking over to your closet. “You just usually have a different look on your face.”

“I was just enjoying the view.”

You hummed at him in response and grabbed the other dress off the hanger.

“Also,” Ben continued. “I was just thinking about some things.”

“Such as?” You stepped into the dress.

“Well, you’ve been rather tired lately, and you’ve been eating a bit more.”

You turned to Ben and stared at him. Waiting for him to continue, but you didn’t say anything.

“A…and…well,” Ben cleared his throat, now seemingly embarrassed. “Now your dress isn’t fitting right and…I just…I’m thinking that…maybe it’s time to check again.”

You closed your eyes, “Ben,” you sighed.

“I know, I know,” Ben stood up and walked over to you. “But we haven’t checked for a while and…” Ben took one of your hands and started playing with your fingers. “It’s not like we’ve been super careful or anything.”

You wrapped your arms around Ben’s neck, and he wrapped his around your waist. “I know, but I just…I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

You and Ben had tried to get pregnant for the last two years but stopped trying because you’d both gotten frustrated with the process, and eventually each other. You’d stopped trying around June and started working on your relationship again. It had been great, but neither of you had brought it up since then, even though you both knew it was something the other still wanted.

“I understand,” Ben kissed your forehead. The two of you stood, holding each other, until Ben spoke up again. “We should really get going. My mum is going to be angry if we’re late again.”

The two of you made your way to the church, with just enough time to find your seats before everything started. You were sandwiched between your mother-in-law and husband and your mind started to wander.

What if you were pregnant? Ben had brought up some good points. You had barely had any energy lately when you got home from work, but you had chalked that up to the holidays coming around and it being the time of year where you just got more tired. You also had been hungrier, but again, you just thought it was not getting out and just mindlessly eating. Maybe you should take the test again. Maybe…

“Y/N,” your mother-in-law whispered. “Are you okay?”

You blinked and turned to look at her, but realized she was standing, and you were supposed to be too. You quickly stood up and recited the prayers with everyone else.

The rest of the service passed without incident, but you still couldn’t get the thought off your mind.

The remainder of the night was spent at Ben’s grandmother’s house. The family exchanged gifts, and ate, everybody enjoying themselves.

“Y/N, come here, dear,” Ben’s grandmother called to you from the living room.

You’d been in the kitchen with your mother-in-law, sipping on wine. You walked into the living room, your glass in hand, and sat next to Ben’s grandmother on the couch.

“I don’t know if you should be doing that,” she nodded at the wine glass.

“Oh,” you ducked your head, embarrassed. “Well, Ben’s driving home so…”

“Oh no, I wasn’t talking about that. I just meant that drinking while pregnant is not advised.”

You nearly dropped your glass as she fixed you with a sly smile.

“Did you think I didn’t notice? I was waiting for the two of you to say something at dinner, but neither of you spoke up.”

“Well, if I’m being honest, w…we’re not sure about it, yet. I haven’t taken a test or anything.”

“I would suggest it,” she simply shrugged, but the grin on her face never changed.

“And just what are the two of you whispering about in here?” Ben poked his head into the living room.

She bated at the air as if to shoo Ben away. “Oh nothing, but I’m about to ask all of you to leave. I’m old and I’m tired.”

Ben rolled his eyes with a smile. “Nan, you’re not that old.”

“Well, I am about to be a great…”

You jumped up on your feet, cutting her off. “She’s right though, Ben. We should get going. We’ve been here nearly five hours, not counting church.”

Ben looked between the two of you. “You alright?”

“Yes, but let’s just get going.”

The two of you said your goodbyes to Ben’s family before leaving in the house. As you drove past a pharmacy, you told Ben to stop.

“Um…sure, why?” Ben pulled into the parking lot.

“I just…want to grab something. I’ll be right back.”

Ben gave you a strange look before you ran inside. You picked up a pregnancy test and stared at if for a bit before finally walked up to the front to buy it.

You walked back out to the car, hiding your purchase in your purse and Ben looked up from his phone. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“No, not yet,” you replied, putting on your seat belt.

“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Ben told you as he started up the car. “The boys say Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Aw, how are the boys?”

The two of you drove back to the house, talking about possibly taking a trip to the states to see them once the two of you had time.

Once you made it back home, you and Ben went inside. He started to change but you went into the bathroom. You took the test and waited.

Ben knocked on the door. “Sweetheart, can I come in?”

“Not yet!” You still had another minute on your timer before the test was done. You heard Ben mutter something through the door, but he didn’t come in.

Your phone buzzed and you took a deep breath before looking at the test.

‘Pregnant’. You read it three times just to make sure. And after you made sure, your eyes started to tear up.

“B..Ben?!” You yelled. “You can come in now!”

Ben walked into the bathroom, raising an eyebrow at you.

“So, I…I think…um…your grandmother…” You stumbled around, trying to find the right words to say before you finally just handed him the test.

Ben took it from you and stared at it for a few moments before he looked up at you, tearing up. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, we can’t be sure until I go to a doctor but…”

Ben cut you off by pulling you into a close, tight hug. You buried your head in his chest and tried not to cry.

“I love you so much,” Ben whispered in your ear.

You let out a chuckle before you looked up at him. He was staring at you with such a loving look that you felt like your heart was going to explode. You leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

“I love you too.”

10 MONTHS LATER

“Don’t you want to eat, sweetheart?” Ben murmured at your daughter as he tried to give her a bottle again. She would start to eat, but then she would turn her head and whine. “Look, your brother is eating.” Ben nodded at you, holding your son as he was sucking down the bottle you were giving him.

“She did eat more than him at breakfast,” you replied, not taking your eyes off your son. He had his big blue/green eyes open staring at you. It made your heart want to explode how much he looked like his father. Your daughter had gotten Ben’s blonde hair, but other than that looked like you. You loved her just as much.

It had been a huge shock that you were having twins. So much of a shock that most of your friends didn’t actually know. The two of you had decided to keep a low profile about most of the pregnancy, including the birth, only letting people on social media know that everybody was doing great. The only ones that knew were your parents and siblings.

You glimpse over at Ben holding Lily. He was staring down at her like she was the center of his whole universe. You felt your eyes tear up seeing your husband and daughter just staring at each other and quickly tried to stop. You looked back down at Logan in your arms but that didn’t help the tears.

“So she doesn’t need this whole thing?” Ben held up a bottle, shooting a look to you. “Oh, love, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you sniffled, not meeting Ben’s eyes. “Just left over hormones, you know.”

Ben chuckled under his breath and walked over to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I love you too.”

You laughed a bit before glancing up at him. “We should get ready. I think that mad lot will get here soon.”

Ben offered to get the babies dressed so that you could take a shower to get ready. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner through everything. Ben had been so attentive through your pregnancy and now that you were home, he was always the one that got up if one or both the babies were crying or needed a late night feeding.

After a much needed shower, you came out to see Ben on the bed, just watching the twins sleeping.

“I can’t believe you just…gave birth to them,” Ben whispered to you. “They were inside your body not even a month ago and now here they are.”

You smiled a bit before walking over to the bed. “I know, I’m amazing, but.”

Ben grabbed your arm and looked up at you. “No, you really are,” Ben kissed your hand.

You bit your bottom lip, trying your best not to cry again. Damn these hormones.

“You should get ready. Everybody will probably be here soon.”

Nearly an hour later, your doorbell rang. You and Ben were sitting on the couch, the twins were in their swings, still sleeping.

“You should get the door,” you told Ben. “I think they love you more than me.”

“I know for a fact that’s not true,” Ben gave you a kiss before he got up to answer the door. “Well, hell…OOF!”

“BEN! IT’S BEEN TOO LONG! I ALMOST FORGOT WHAT YOU LOOKED LIKE!” You heard Joe Mazzello’s voice carry through your flat. You then heard a twinkling laugh along with some other ones.

“Who let you out in public, Joe?” Another familiar voice, belonging to Brian May asked.

You laughed along with everybody else and noticed that the twins’ eyes were now open. They weren’t upset, just sort of looking around, trying to find the source of the noise.

“Now, where is that baby of yours?” Roger Taylor’s voice seemed to be getting closer.

Everybody then walked into the living room. You stood up, ready for hugs and hellos.

You gave hugs to Gwil, Joe, Rami, Roger, and Brian. They all asked how you were and how things were going with motherhood.

“Um…guys?” Joe’s voice had a tinge of fake concern. “Does the hospital know that you have two of them?”

Everybody’s attention finally turned towards the babies.

“Well, no, we just got the one but the other was so cute we took them too,” you laughed.

“Oh, Y/N, congratulations!” Brian pulled you into another hug.

“Thank you, now who wants to hold them?”

Roger picked up Logan, not needing any more of an invitation and introducing himself as his “fake grandfather”.

Rami and Joe played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would get to hold Lily first. Rami won and gently picked her up, staring at her like he might break her.

“Does anybody want anything to drink?” Ben offered before making his way into the kitchen, Brian going with him to help carry the drinks in.

“So, Y/N,” Gwil asked. “How’s Ben at being a father?”

You looked over at Ben, laughing at something Brian had said as he filled a glass with water.

“He’s absolutely wonderful.”

The rest of the afternoon, you, Ben, and everybody else had a great time catching up. You hadn’t seen most of them since you’d been pregnant, especially Joe and Rami.

Joe was in the middle of a story, holding Logan, when Lily made noise in Brian’s arms.

“Oh, she’s probably finally hungry,” Ben offered to take her.

Brian tutted and asked if she had a bottle. Ben got up to get it ready for her.

That was the moment you took in what was really going on. You had literal rock stars and movie stars fawning over your babies. How crazy had your life become?

Ben came back with the bottle, handed it to Brian, and then sat next to you. You took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Ben looked at you with a smile.

You supposed you wouldn’t exchange your crazy life for anything.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #bohrap #bohemian rapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody cast #dad!ben #krissys writings

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 4

summary: it’s the morning after the night before. time for a very awkward conversation.

warnings: warnings, very very brief alluding to smut but rly only if u squint

song for this chapter is best friend by rex orange county! also the series masterlist can be found through the link to my main masterlist in my bio :) enjoy!

- jazz

You were’t sure what you needed more the next day: painkillers, to help your hangover or another round of drinks, to help you forget what you’d done night before.

Or should I say - who you had done the night before.

You didn’t sleep with your co-workers, much less your boss. God, it was almost as bad as if you’d slept with Merl - no, you couldn’t even let your brain go there. You’d already thrown up twice that morning (once into Jack’s toilet and then once into the subway tracks) and you didn’t need to make yourself do it again. Your stomach was churning and it felt as though the Blue Man Group were rehearsing their drum set in your frontal lobe. You’d tried to nurse it with a large block coffee and a half a packet of painkillers but alas, to no success.

Somehow, though, your physical pains were the least of your worries. The fact you’d snuck out of Jack’s apartment and left without a word was playing over and over again in your head - so much so, that you almost didn’t come into work. Almost. Not even this situation was enough to make you take a day off.

‘Is there a reason you’ve been stood outside the office for fifteen minutes, agent?’ You jumped at the sound of Champ’s voice. He glanced between the Starbucks coffee in his hand and the bruise around your left eye (fuck, you’d forgotten about that), quirking an eyebrow. ‘Rough night?’

‘No.’ You quickly answered. ‘Sir.’

‘So you what...walked into a door?’

Got drunk, tried to square up to a guy, got punched and then fucked my boss - thanks for asking.

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I’m not normally clumsy but I forget that doors in America...go the other way? You know, drive on the other side of the road, use a different weight system, doors that go-’

‘- you can stop now, Percival.’ Champ cut you off. ‘Make sure you look after yourself.’

‘Right.’ You nodded. ‘Thank you.’

With the agent staring you at expectantly, you had no choice but to go into the office. You forced a smile, using your weight to budge open the door and step inside.

The sound of your heels against the floor announced your entrance; the faint smell of Jack’s aftershave wasn’t normally that noticeable, but that morning, it wasn’t doing you any favours. You stood in the door way for a moment, letting it shut behind you as your eyes landed on the cowboy.

He didn’t even look at you. Why wasn’t he looking at you? Fuck, had you upset him-

‘Nice of you to make an appearance, Percy.’ He suddenly spoke, flashing you a smile as he tore his eyes away from his computer screen. ‘How’s the shiner? Your buddy sure did pack a punch, huh?’

‘Uh, yeah.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘It’s fine, a little sore.’

‘You should pop down the lab on your break. Ginger will sort it out in no time.’ He leant back in his chair.

‘Are we just not gonna talk about the fact we slept together last night?’

Jack suddenly jumped in surprise, eyes widening. Right, clearly not.

‘I was trying to find a way to bring up such a sensitive subject.’ He replied. ‘But I guess I don’t gotta worry.’

You sighed as you walked over to your desk, placing your bag down and taking a seat. Fuck, your head was killing. You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to continue the difficult conversation you’d just unwittingly started. You got the vibe that people in the South probably didn’t talk about sex so crudely. Twenty-something years of hanging around Eggsy Unwin had de-sensitised you to the idea of it being a taboo subject.

‘I’m sorry I left this morning without saying anything.’ You sheepishly murmured. ‘When I do stuff like that, it’s usually with random guys I found in a bar.’

The biggest question that kept playing over and over in your head was why?

Why Jack? You’d rebuffed Tequila’s advances before he could even finish the damn sentence and yet you’d slipped into bed with Jack with ease. It was probably to do with the fact he’d been such a good kisser, and the rest did not disappoint. It had been good. Really good. Possibly the best you’d ever had, actually. He’d said at the beginning of the night that he was going to help you kick back and chill out and...yeah, he’d done a pretty good job.

‘It doesn’t affect me, sugar.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t see why it has to change anything between us.’

Of course. Had you forgotten who you were talking to? This was Whiskey, the biggest flirt at the fucking agency. He’d probably had a different girl the night before you, and he was probably going to have somebody else tonight. He hadn’t said or done anything that could have lead you to believe it meant something more. Sure, you’d become friends and saw each other day and yeah, he drove you home sometimes because he didn’t want you to walk home in the dark and he had invited you out to help you de-stress when you needed it most.

Did you like Jack? Did you want it to be something more? Did the last few weeks all....add up to something? Then again, maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he was just looking out for you, because you were a young woman, alone in the city. Perhaps last night had just been...a fluke. A glitch in the system. A wobble in what was otherwise a completely professional relationship.

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded, scratching the back of your neck. It really felt like you should have said something more, because it felt like something more. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’

He quirked a brow at you. ‘So we’re good?’

You forced a smile. ‘Better than ever, Whiskey.’

You’d had one night stands before. They were standard, really - but it was rare you found yourself thinking about them the next day. Something between you just worked. You couldn’t put your finger on it, in the same way you couldn’t spell out the sudden urge to kiss him last night, but some things just couldn’t be explained. Your attraction to him certainly couldn’t be - he was older, used the worst nicknames and spoke to you entirely in Southern metaphors. But, as aforementioned, he’d also looked after you.

Maybe that was what you needed. Maybe it was what you wanted-

- You stopped yourself there. No time to unpack all of that, especially when you were this hungover and spent most of your waking hours spitting fire about how independent you were. You’d had Tequila pinned to the wall less than twelve hours ago for trying to make move on you. It was probably something to save for therapy (which was on your to-do list).

The tension in the room felt a little more reflective of a fight between a couple than it did of two friends who had casually slept together the night before. Normally, the room was just calm, filled with the only sounds of you two occasionally cracking jokes or your fingers desperately tapping away at your respective computers. Now? It was tense. Suffocatingly so, as though it could have swallowed you whole.

‘I’m gonna get more coffee.’ You announced, abruptly. ‘And I guess I’ll pay Ginger a visit to sort out this annoying fucking bruise. You want anything from Starbucks?’

‘Didn’t you just go?’ He observed.

‘Yeah, but I want some fresh air.’

As you passed Jack’s desk on the way out, he reached out and grabbed your hand, quickly tangling your fingers in his. He peered up at you, brow furrowed - you were off. He knew you were off. He’d proven time and time again over the last month that he could read you like a fucking book. You were a clown for thinking that he wouldn’t notice the fact you’d completely retracted into yourself, or that you’d suddenly from from Jack to Whiskey.

‘You’re annoyed at me.’ He observed.

‘I’m not annoyed at you.’ You didn’t try to pull your hand back. ‘I’m annoyed at...myself, I guess.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I let last night happen.’ You explained. ‘I shouldn’t have made a move on you, I shouldn’t have broken every professional boundary between us for one night of meaningless-’

‘- what if it wasn’t meaningless?’

You froze, suddenly snatching your hand back. What were you meant to say to that? You couldn’t work out if you wanted it to mean something. There was so much to untangle but your main concern was sorting out your sore nose and banging head ache.

‘Jack...’ you murmured. ‘I can’t talk about this right now. My head is on fire and my nose is fucking purple.’

He stood up, reaching for his jacket. ‘C’mon then, I’ll take you down the lab.’

‘I can get there myself, really.’

‘D’you know where it is, sugar?’

‘I can work it out.’ You shot back. ‘I’m smart-’

Before you could finish your sentence, he had a hand on the small of your back and was guiding you out the room and down the hall. That was new; he hadn’t really shown you any signs of physical touch - excluding last night, obviously - but the progression felt...natural. Heck, Jack hadn’t even realised he was doing it, and you didn’t feel the urge to complain or push him off.

That was probably saying something.

‘There we go.’ Ginger murmured, slowly dabbing at the bruise with...something. ‘Good as new.’

You felt as good as new. After putting a weird paste on your nose and forcing some fancy, top-of-the-range painkillers down your throat, your hangover was gone and your nose was no longer stinging. You’d been out here thinking that Kingsman had been far ahead with their medical technology, but this place made it look Victorian. You were tempted to ask if they had an amnesia-inducing medication that could make you and Jack forget the events of last night, but then you realised something.

You didn’t want to forget.

‘Thank you, Ginger.’ You smiled. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘What did you do to end up with a busted nose and black eye, anyways?’ Ginger raised her eyebrows.

‘Our girl tried to deck a man twice her size because she thought he was following a woman into the bathroom.’ Jack replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. That’s fine. That was totally fine. You were fine.

‘I had the right intentions.’ You muttered. ‘Anyways - Calahan isn’t gonna catch himself, so I gotta get back to work. Thank you again, G.’

That was code for Jack and I are about to have a very awkward conversation. To be frank, you would have begrudgingly left at the whole ‘it didn’t mean anything’ point, but he’d been the one to push it, to float out the idea that it could mean something. You’d thought it, but he’d been the one to say it. That was the huge difference between the two of you. You could compartmentalise your feelings when they proved to be an inconvenience. Jack Daniels, however, was...brash. When he felt something, he had to say it. It was a blessing and a curse.

You both walked back to your office in silence, once again with Jack’s hand resting on the small of your back. He knew you didn’t need looking after - hell, you’d proved that ten times over - but it almost like he was keeping an eye on you. He’d seen you square up to two different men in the last twenty four hours. It was for your safety, really.

The minute the door had shut behind you both, that tension immediately returned. This time, however, there was a little hint of excitement. Anticipation, maybe.

‘So...’ you trailed off, leaning against your desk. Awkwardly playing with your hands, you peered over at him. ‘Let’s recap: we slept together, I snuck out, we said it didn’t mean anything and then two seconds later, you retracted that statement.’

‘I didn’t retract it.’ Jack insisted. ‘I was just reading your signals - which are confusing as fuck, by the way, sweetheart - because you were the one who walked out.’

‘My signals?’ You scoffed. ‘You were the one who invited me out the in first place! And the one who drives me home every damn night so I don’t have to walk alone!’

‘You’re the one who’s being as skitterish as a calf at a goddamn smoke out-’

‘- as a what at a what?!’ You spluttered. ‘You’re the one calls me sweetheart all the time!’

‘Yeah, well, you’re the one who kissed me first-’

‘- just shut up a second!’ You held your finger out to him. He silenced immediately. 'I feel like we’re overcomplicating this.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘We are?’

‘Whi - Jack.’ You took a deep breath. ‘I am going to ask you this once, and once only. If you say no, I’ll move on and we can act like this never happened. If you say yes...we can discuss it, okay?’

‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Go for it.’

‘Did last night mean anything to you?’ You asked the question slowly, in the same tone you might ask a child what small object they had in their mouth.

‘Not at first.’ Jack replied. ‘I didn’t go into it with the intention of it meaning something.’

You frowned. ‘Do go on.’

‘I was gonna come in this morning and pretend like it never happened. Then I saw you, with that stupid bruise and stupid smile and I realised that you’re brash and dumb and fucking gorgeous and ...shit, you’re spiteful as hell and I’m a little terrified of you but damn, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking obsessed with you.’

‘Well, shit.’ You murmured. It was the answer you’d wanted just...in a lot more words.

For a long time, your head strong nature and inability to tolerate ninety-nine percent of the human race was something people had used a reason not to like you. But Jack? Oh, no. Not him. He saw it as a challenge, maybe. He had an urge to cut through the thorny outside and trying to see what you held on the inside. He’d see little bits of it here and there - your smile when you spoke about Eggsy, or the way you’d gone out your way to try and protect that woman - but he was determined to find more. He wanted to find more. You were an enigma, a vortex of swear words and brash decisions, and hell, you were sucking him right in.

‘You gonna say anything more than shit?’ He urged.

You’d never been all that good with words. Didn’t actions speak louder? That’s what your mum had always said, and it had proven true in your line of work too. Punching the daylights out of someone was always a clearer threat than a concerning phone call. Pulling your weight on every mission was more proof of hard work than gloating to your uppers about your achievements.

And kissing your boss was a much clearer sign of telling him that you liked him too rather than just verbalising it.

Jack almost veered backwards when you lunged at him, just about catching you in his arms. Your lips crashed together - it was a little more desperate than last night, but then again, so was the whole situation. His arms caught you at the waist, holding you against his chest as he kissed you right back.

After a few moments, you pulled back for air. Neither of you said anything, instead choosing to just stare at each other with disbelief.

‘That was very unprofessional of me.’ You admitted. ‘But I do like you Jack and I’m worried it’s going to be a problem-’

‘- since when has mutual attraction ever been a problem?’ Jack practically snorted at the idea. ‘I like you. You like me. I don’t get what’s so complicated about that, sugar.’

‘Because it’s unprofessional! You’re my boss and I’m here to work.’ You suddenly took a step back, complex feelings finally colliding. ‘To prove myself and get a promotion!’

‘And you’re doing that just fine!’ He shot back. ‘Better than fine! You work your ass off ten times harder than any agent I’ve ever met. I don’t know how those uppity goddamn suit-makers haven’t realised what an asset you are.’

‘Are you saying that because you like me or because you mean it?’

‘Ouch.’ He murmured. ‘Even if I couldn’t stand you, I would still recognise the fact you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever seen.’

‘Wouldn’t that be an ideal world.’ You snorted.

‘How about this?’ Jack reached forward, taking your hands in his. ‘It’s clear that whatever happens now, we probably can’t go back to how things were. I can try, but I promise you it won’t happen.’

You nodded in agreement.

‘So, you can back track on everything we’ve just said and let it affect how we work together, or we can just lean into this whole stupid thing.’ He continued. ‘We’ll work together and play together. Two birds one stone, just until you go back to London.’

This was something of a rare opportunity: mutual attraction. Aside from the occasional one night stand in London, you barely had the chance to have fun. After years of hard work, maybe you deserved it. It was just...fooling around. You’d both admitted you liked one another but it was hardly a grand declaration at love. There were some feelings at stake, but not enough for you to be worried.

‘We need ground rules.’ You replied. ‘I like you and you like me but we have to put the brakes on it there. You have to promise not to fall in love with me. Obsession only, okay?’

Jack tilted his head to the side, as if to say fair enough. ‘Sure thing. Anything else?’

‘The minute this starts to interfere with my work, I’m cutting you out.’ Your tone was a little sterner. ‘Heck, the second it happens, this stops. It’s...an addition to my work, not a replacement.’

‘As your superior...’ he said the words teasingly. You hated that you loved it. ‘I will make that doesn’t happpen.’

‘Good.’ You gave him a curt nod. ‘Then it’s settled.’

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. Jack peered down at it, almost waiting for you to retract it and break into a grin. But that didn’t happen. You were completely serious. Could he put it down to British weirdness? Probably.

‘You drive me fucking insane.’ The cowboy grabbed your hand, yanking you towards him and capturing you in another kiss.

tags: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @imananxiousdriver @phoenixhalliwell @66wookies @paintballkid711 @waatermelon-sugaar @hepburnwritess @haileyybird @xjaywritesx @jabbajambler @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @welcometothepedroverse @wickedmuse (message me if you wanna be added!)

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x you #kingsman x reader #kingsman imagines

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

#javi x reader #javi x you #javi x y/n #Peña x reader #Peña x you #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos fanfic #agent peña x reader #agent Peña x you #not a piece of art #part 1

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keltonwrites · 3 years ago

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I'm not sure if that's a good thing

“Well you’re definitely the first.” This past week, we screened-in the eastern facing porch on the side of the cabin. The porch slopes to the South, with the brick-on-dirt floor crumbling in that direction as well until it reaches uneven slabs of stone acting as steps down to the “yard” below. A mixed material retaining wall wraps beneath the steps to the south facing garage, holding up one corner of the narrow deck on the front of the house. The deck, in the heat of a high altitude summer, droops off the house like it’s daydreaming about the winter snow’s embrace. It’s safe to sit on, though I would not recommend leaning on the railing.

The side porch takes the brunt of the wind. Our wooden rocking chairs have been rocked some 20 feet into the yard more than once in the two months we lived here. In the myriad of threats we heard about the weather, most people included the wind. We all know how I feel about this ongoing weather intimidation tactic. I asked, “what speed are the gusts?” “Oh, they get up to 70 miles per hour on some days.” This was the first quantifiable piece of weather information someone had offered — an actual number we could react to with data and our historical personal experiences of various weather events. And our reaction was: uhhhh…. OK???? Look, I get it. No one’s preaching the skin benefits of -20 degree wind gusts at 70 mph, building snow drifts against your house in the span of minutes that Cooper could die in. I am not going to pretend that’s pleasant. But 70 mph? Any wind I’ve driven faster than does not intimidate me. I used to rally the horses at 12 years old in winds over 70mph to get them in the barn before the latest tornado whipped through. I helped shutter the resort in the BVI as the Category 5 hurricane rolled in. Even in Topanga, 70 mile per hour gusts were not uncommon in Santa Ana events. We had our single pane windows shatter more than once from debris in the wind. We taped cardboard up and went to sleep. That “70 mph” was all I needed to hear to confirm our next project: we were going to build a catio for these cats, and we were going to do it on the pre-existing porch structure to save time and money. We spent a week framing out the structure. We had to carve into the logs of the house to embed the wood supports for the framing.

And from there, every piece of wood was custom carved and cut to fit around the existing timber supports. The existing porch was so wildly uneven that there are gaps between each piece of old wood and the new framing. Our plan is to mix all the wood chips from the project with mortar/chinking and stuff the gaps — a good solution for the log cabin look. We built a plywood pony wall up to 28 inches from the interior of the porch, which gives a height of ~4-5ft from the exterior ground below. It’s capped with a 2x6” railing for even the fluffiest of cats to find a perch. The exterior will be wrapped with corrugated metal that we’ll quick-age to match the metal that wraps the bottom of the cabin. On the interior of the porch, we’ll use shiplap to hide the framing.

The screens themselves can withstand winds up to 120 mph, but to-be-determined if they can hold the weight of a growing maniac cat who has already tried to climb them. In the event the screens succumb to cat (or wind or snow or neighbor judgment) we’ll reinforce with metal mesh. We’re going to maintain this screen porch regardless of what the screen is. We had the pleasure of running into one of our more industrious neighbors the other day, and Ben asked him, “hey we’re building a screen porch. Is this a terrible idea?” He laughed. “Well you’re definitely the first.” But he liked it. Great way to diminish wind into the house. Simple way to regulate the temperature with massive south-facing windows. And indeed a practical outdoor safe haven for cats in predator territory. Just because you’re the first doesn’t mean you’re foolish — just foolhardy. There’s plenty of that here. This town has the typical mountain town’s truncated version of a colonizers’ history: “established 1881.” But it was plenty established prior to that by the Uncompahgre Band of the Ute Nation, removed by the U.S. Army on September 7, 1881, nearly 140 years ago. The government relocated the Uncompahgre Ute People to Utah, and one year after the Ute were forcibly removed from their ancestral land, San Miguel County split off from Ouray County and was made its own political subdivision in the newly-formed State of Colorado. In 1879, the ore-laden valley already had 50 people living in it, with a new narrow gauge railway only 2 miles away. By 1885, it was a town of 200 people. There was a hotel, a couple saloons, a pool hall. Winters were treacherous; the valley was and is prone to avalanches. But where there’s gold, there’s gumption. The power needed to run the stamp mill to process ore drove innovation. Timber was scarce at such high elevations, so a wood powered steam mill wouldn’t cut it. But the San Miguel River just a few miles down from the mine looked promising. Thus began the development and construction of the Ames Hydroelectric Generating Plant. It was a hit. In fact, it was so successful that the Ames Plant led to the adoption of alternating currents at Niagara Falls and eventually to being adopted worldwide as a viable power solution. The plant remains, but the gold rush obviously didn’t. By 1940, the U.S. Census declared this little town I call home as tied for the lowest population in the country: 2 people. By 1960, it was one of four incorporated towns in the U.S. with no residents. But the joke was on the Census — the town’s single resident was just out of town the day the census came through. 1960 population: 1. By 1980 the population grew to 38, 69 in 1990, and about 180 now. (Plus 51 dogs according to the town’s website.) With modern amenities, it’s easier to be here. Studded snow tires, satellite internet, solar panels, instant coffee. No matter the hardships, there’s the reality of the present. In the 1880s, as the town boomed, the Ouray Times declared, “it will be at no distant day a far more pretentious town than it is now.” That day hasn’t exactly arrived, but I guess it depends on what you consider pretentious. I don’t think the town claims any airs of excellence beyond what’s true. In fact, the town hardly claims anything at all. There’s no sign indicating it’s even here. There’s just the old side and the new side. The new side, the Eastern half, was drawn out in the early 1990s, some 100 years later, and is separated from the Old Town by an avalanche zone—preserved open space for hiking in the summer, preserved open space for surviving in the winter. The town forbids short-term rentals, no one has a fence, dogs roam free, and all the houses have that cabin look to them. A boulder nests in a grove near a trailhead in the center of town with a plaque paying respect to the Utes who called this valley home. There’s no industry here. No businesses allowed. If you want a $7 latte, you can drive the 14 miles required to get it, assuming there’s not an avalanche blocking your path. You can, however, buy a pink lemonade in a

solo cup at the permanent lemonade stand run by the local feral child mafia. Crystals (rocks) can be purchased for an additional cost. We bought one, hoping to buy favor at the same time. The town plan has a few guiding principles, and it’s all in the name of preservation. We must preserve: 1 - the quiet atmosphere 2 - the rustic character 3 - the natural setting

And finally: 4 - protect the health and wellbeing of the people here No snowmobiles, no ATVs, no drones. In fact, the only sign of the outside world here are the passers-through. When you take the dirt road through town to the end, you enter National Forest, and you can hike over the pass saddle at nearly 12,000 feet before descending down the other side into Silverton. The pass road climbs rutted through an aspen forest before scaling across a scree field and then lurching over to the other side. Every day, it seems like 30 or so Texans and Arizonans in lifted and loud Jeeps with unused mods climb over this mountain in the comfort of their air conditioning, simply to drive down the other side. You could hike it, ride it, run it, and ski it, but they don’t. They rev their engines, kicking up dust in a town of feral children and roaming dogs, staring at us instead of waving. I’ve lived here for two months and look how salty I am. I’ll fit in yet. But today, there is a temperature that whispers of perfect trails and the dwindling of ogglers driving 35 in a 15. It’s already snowed in the mountains we see from our kitchen. Today, like a dedication to the Septembers of our youth, you can feel a chill in the air. A temperature akin to pencils and sweaters and reinventing yourself. A temperature that doesn’t exactly sing “screen porch” but could if you had the right slippers on. That’s what I did this morning: put my slippers on and sat there in the cool mountain morning air, thinking about the cemetery behind our house, about the Ute tribe, about the miners, about the mailman who died on Christmas in 1875 on the pass, about the 5 people who died in avalanches here just last year, about the people in their cars on their phones driving through, and all the people who’s very first question to us was, “so are you gonna live here part-time or full-time?” Maybe it will be a hard place to live. But at least we’ll have a screen porch.

Every week I'm writing about moving to log cabin in a small town at 10,000 feet. Subscribe here for free: tinyletter.com/keltonwrites

#colorado #small town life #home renovation #amwriting #creative writing #newsletter #a little bit better

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ortizobsessed · 4 years ago

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Leave This Town

This one was requested by @xx--day-dreamer--xx.

Reader x Juice where instead of Juice turning himself in, he hides out with you, and you two leave Charming together. As some added tension, you’re also Chibs’ niece. (This is intended to take place between Season 6 and 7, before Juice gave himself up and was sent to prison)

Warnings: A few swears, talk of suicide attempts, and mention of death threats.

Word Count: 2709

Masterlist

Driving through the clubhouse parking lot, you saw your uncle walking towards his bike. You put your car in park, turned the key, and slammed the door. He had noticed you pulling in and was now walking towards you. Yelling at him from across the parking lot, you asked, clearly distraught, “Have you heard from him?!”

Chibs shook his head, and motioned with his hand for you to keep your voice down. It gave you the feeling that maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea, but you needed to find Juice.

“I’m really worried. I haven’t seen or heard from him in 4 days.”

Chibs let out an airy laugh, “Maybe that’s for the best.”

If you weren’t already worried enough, that sent you over the edge. “What is that supposed to mean? What the fuck is going on? Uncle- please- please I just need someone to tell me what happened!”

“You know what darlin’?” His voice was low and gruff, and the look on his face was one you’d never seen before, at least not when he was talking to you. He was visibly angry. “I told you getting involved with that boy was a bad idea. If you do happen to find him, you should tell him to get the fuck out of town.” As tears started to build in your eyes, Chibs took a deep breath and lowered his voice slightly, but still firm, he added, “Look, I don’t know what happened either, but I do know that he has no place here, in this club, anymore. Jax has made that pretty clear. I’m sorry to be the one who has to tell you that, love, but-” he sighed, and dropped his head, “I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I don’t-” he lowered his voice even more, “I don’t know what Jax would do if he found out you were here today so please, you should go. If you hear from Juice, and if you truly care about him, you get him the hell out of this town. I mean it.”

His words were sharp knives, cutting clean through your chest and straight into your heart. Leave Charming? You couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, but something about this conversation told you that if Juice were to stay, you would never see him again anyway.

You didn’t know how to respond. Tears had finally started flowing, and all you could do was fumble with your keys, unlock your car door, and drive away. You knew you weren’t in the right frame of mind to be driving right now, but your fight or flight response had taken over, and rational thinking wasn’t high on your list of priorities.

You drove straight to Juice’s house, banging your fist on the front door aggressively. No answer. You lost count of how many times you knocked on the door, each time yelling something along the lines of, “Juan, if you’re in there- please- PLEASE let me in. I need to talk to you.”

After what felt like hours, but was really only more like 10 minutes, you gave up. As you walked back to your car, you dialed Juice’s number for about the 12th time in the last couple hours, and hit talk. Once again, no answer, so this time you left a voicemail.

“Juan... Please talk to me-” your voice broke, and you fought to hold back tears. “I just need to hear your voice- I need to know that you’re okay.”

You spent the entire afternoon lying on your couch, dialing Juice’s number every 15 minutes or so, and running every possible scenario through your mind. What happened? Where was he right now? Was he not answering your calls because he didn’t trust you? You just needed answers.

Finally, you heard a loud knock on your apartment door. You jumped up from the couch and were at the door in seconds, opening it. There he was, dressed in all black, with the hood on his sweater up.

“I uh- I got your call,” he teased, holding his phone up.

“Now is not the time to joke around, Juan. I thought something horrible had happened to you!”

Seemingly ignoring your comment, he pushed past you until he was standing in the middle of your living room. Locking the front door, you turned to face him. “It’s not what’s already happened, it’s what might happen.”

“Why is everyone speaking so cryptically?! Why the fuck won’t anyone just tell me what’s going on?!”

Juice sighed heavily, then looked up at you.

“Juan- Just please tell me what’s going on.”

You wouldn’t normally push, especially when you could tell that whatever was going on was weighing on him, because he always came to you when he was ready to talk. But you could feel it in your bones that this time was different, between the way Juice had been ignoring you, and the conversation with your uncle earlier. You needed to know what happened so you could figure out what you could do to help him.

“Gemma is on her way here. She’s going to help us. Everything will be fine.” His voice was clearly broken, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

But his words only confused you more. “What does Gemma have to do with any of this?”

As if right on cue, you heard a knock at the door, and opened it to find Gemma standing there. You let her in, and moments later truth started to flow. They told you everything; from Jax ordering Juice to kill Darvany, all the way up until just 4 days ago when Jax finally found out that he had nearly overdosed and confessed everything to Nero. Juice had been hiding out at motel since.

“And I owe him a favour, that’s why I’ve been helping him out,” Gemma confessed. “But it’s best if you don’t know about any of that right now.”

Your mind was spinning. There was so much new information to take in that you almost regretted asking, but you had to know all of it. Over the past 2 years that you and Juice have been together, you’d been in such a grey area, knowing about some of the club business, but none of the fine details.

You noticed Juice had been acting different these last few months, but any time you asked him what was wrong, you were always told that it was just “club shit”.

“Oh, Juan-” your eyes were full of tears, thinking about how this club, and all the things that come with it, had pushed him to attempt suicide a second time.

You had learned about his first attempt at the beginning of your relationship. You two got to know each other at a group meeting for survivors of attempted suicide. Though you didn’t learn about the exact details that lead up to his first attempt until farther down the line, you knew it also had something to do with the club.

Taking a few steps towards him, you placed a loving hand under his chin and lifted his head. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, and that broke your heart even more. Through a shaky voice you pleaded, “Look at me, Juan. Please.”

You now had both of your hands on either side of his face, and he reluctantly met your gaze. The disparity in his eyes was obvious, and you lost it, tears beginning to flow down your cheeks. You pulled his face to yours and kissed him tenderly. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nuzzled your face into his neck and felt his arms loosely wrap around your waist, then pull you close.

Whispering against his skin, your voice trembling, “You should have told me. Maybe I could have helped. I- I... Shit Juan- I could have lost you. I can’t lose you!”

You held him tight and felt his body shake, “I know- I know. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

As the tears slowed, you began to feel rage bubbling up from underneath. “I can’t believe he would put that on you! I thought the club never harmed women and children! Who does he think he is making that kind of decision?!”

You had pulled away from Juice at this point, and was scrambling around trying to find your car keys.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gemma asked sternly.

You didn’t bother answering her question, you just slammed the door behind you, and made your way to your car.

Pulling up in front of Scoops & Sweets, you shut off your car and walked up to the front door with purpose. Swinging the door open, you saw some of the guys at a table; Tig, Jax, Happy and Bobby. Chibs had seen your car pull up, and was already standing.

“Oh hell no-” Jax was angry, and the second you locked eyes with him, you felt your blood start to boil.

“Jackie Boy, I’ll handle this.” Chibs was trying to defuse the situation before it began, but it was too late.

You raised your voice, “You son of a bitch! How dare you put that on him!”

Jax stood up at this point, and was making his way towards you. “He wants to be a part of this club doesn’t he? Wear that reaper on his back? Well that’s what the patch means! Sometimes you have to do some pretty ugly shit!”

You were seeing red. “You took advantage of him and you know it!”

“That boy needs to be dealt with!” Jax yelled back at you.

“He doesn’t need to be ‘dealth with’!” You repeated, mocking the way Jax had said it. “What he needs is help working through whatever awful shit is going on inside that head of his. Shit that lands on you, too!”

The look on everyone else’s faces made it clear that no one outside of him and Juice was privy to what had happened.

Chibs was standing between you and Jax, holding onto your shoulders and trying to move you towards the door. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of this! Let’s go outside.”

“Yeah you better get her out of my face,” Jax threatened.

“Or what?” you yelled, “You’ll have me killed, too?! We all know you’re not above killing women!”

Jax flashed you that devilish grin of his, and you felt chills run down your spine. You immediately regretting saying it, and quickly realized that the target that was on Juice’s head, was most definitely on yours as well now.

“HEY!” Chibs yelled, “I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH. OUTSIDE. NOW.”

You turned on your heel and made your way to the door, and you heard Chibs yell at Jax, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but you have some explaining to do when I’m done!!”

You stood with your back to the shop, not wanting to look at Jax any longer; you’d had enough.

“What the hell was that about?!” Chibs asked, still angry.

You wasted no time, “Juice is the one who killed Darvany. The price he had to pay to earn Jax’s trust back. It’s been eating away at him for months now, and he just tried to kill himself because of it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that boy. Not again.”

You paused, “Jax is going to kill him, isn’t he?”

Chibs didn’t even have to say anything, the look in his eyes was all you needed. “You’d better listen to what I told you earlier and get that boy out of town.”

You nodded nervously. You were being torn in half by your family, and the love of your life. On one hand, you were facing the decision of turning your back on Chibs. He was the only family you had left, and you’d grown close to most of the guys over the past few years. The thought of leaving that all behind was hard to swallow. But you knew your only other option was to leave Juice and let him fend for himself.

This was the toughest decision you’d ever faced, but one that only took a matter of 2 seconds to make; you were not going to abandon Juice. You were his last resort. If he didn’t have you, he had nothing, and no one. You loved him, and the thought of throwing him to the wolves was something you would never be able to live with.

You hugged your uncle tight, knowing full well this was probably the last time you would ever see him. He held you close and kissed the top of your head gently. “Now go on, get out of here. And don’t look back.”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you to hear those words, but you knew it was the right thing. As you made your way back to your car, you heard Chibs open the front door of Scoops and say, “What the fuck were you thinking, boy?!”

You knew it wouldn’t be long before Jax would have everyone on the club’s payroll looking for you and Juice.

The look on your face when you got back to your apartment was hard to ignore, and Gemma was on you the second you closed the door. “Where the hell did you go? What happened?”

Juice was by your side in no time, pulling you into his arms, “You scared us...”

You wanted to snap back, “yeah, now you know how it feels!” but you knew this wasn’t the time.

You hugged him tight, and confessed, “I went to see Jax.”

“You did what?!” Juice couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I needed to hear him admit it!” The weight of the situation was clearly taking it’s toll on all of you, but with your words, a collective sigh washed over the room, and you felt a bit of the tension dissipate.

“I’m so sorry Y/N... I didn’t want to drag you into the middle of all this, Chibs being your family and all... but I don’t know what to do anymore. I need you. I came back for you.” Juice pulled you even closer as he apologized.

“Yeah sure, that, but also your boy thought it would be a good idea to shoot the motel manager!”

“You did what?!” You looked up and Juice, shock written all over your face. He was looking at Gemma, clearly annoyed that she had spilled that information.

“What? I thought you wanted her to know everything.” Her comment was snarky; you could see where Jax got it from. “But don’t worry about it, Unser is going to clean it all up, you just need to get yourselves out of this god-forsaken town, now.”

There was so much going on that the fact that Juice had just killed someone, and you were being told not to worry about it, was the least of your troubles. You knew deep down that Juice only did the things he did because he thought it would buy him back his “family”. You made the decision to push that all to the side for now. Shaking your head as you tried to rid your mind of all the insanity, you said breathlessly, “Okay, okay- Juan- you are leaving this town, for good this time, and I’m coming with you.”

He nodded his head in agreement, and kissed you on the forehead. The next half hour was spent packing up all the essentials. Most of your clothing was going to be left behind, you could always buy new stuff wherever you ended up. Juice didn’t have much of value back at his house, so it was a quick 2 minute stop on the way out of town.

“Be careful, you two.” Gemma gave both of you one last hug in the front entrance of Juice’s home, and before you knew it, you were on the road.

You drove for the fist few hours, letting Juice rest. Neither of you had family anywhere, you were each other’s family now. Where you ended up, you didn’t care. The plan was simple, get in the car and drive, as far away from this town, and this life, as you could.

#leave this town #juice imagine #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #theo rossi #sons of anarchy #soa #samcro #redwood original #men of mayhem #fan fiction

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creamypudding · 3 years ago

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Woeful WIP Wednesday

I last touched this WIP in August 2020. It was for the AkuRoku beard event I had tried to get underway for World Beard Day which is annually on September 1st. I never finished the story because it was getting very technical with beard related care products and a lot of sex. Like a lot of it. I have notes where they fuck each other like 4 times? On the couch, in the shower, in bed. I don’t know why I stopped writing it. It’s outlined but I ran out of steam and interest. As much as I am a smut-writing champion you’d be surprised how often I write stories only to run completely out of steam once I get to the smut. Go figure. In this story Axel and Roxas are in a long distance relationship and have a wager on who can grow the better beard. It is rated T and stops a bit before the ‘good stuff’ was going to happen. Word count - 2385 If you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know. Cheers.

Homecoming

The date, time, and location were set; 1st April, 6pm, Olga's—a favorite haunt of their family and friends’, and the best place to get Polish sausages. Roxas stood a little way down the road from the establishment, his two suitcases; a small one stacked on top of the large one, in hand as he looked at his reflection in his phone's camera. He brushed at his Banholz beard; big, bushy and grew to about his mid-chest. He had oiled, brushed, trimmed, and shaped it to look its best, for today was a monumental day. 6 months ago he had been dared to grow a beard by his boyfriend, Axel. Roxas had agreed but only if they would have a competition to see who could grow the best beard, to be judged by a panel of their relations and peers.

Roxas thought himself ready and walked on, wheeling his suitcases along behind himself. This competition was the precise reason why Roxas now entered the cozy restaurant. It had been booked out for the occasion and was filled with family and friends who all greeted Roxas with raucous cheers of—

“Roxas! You’re back!”

“Good to see you!”

“Is that really you under there?”

“Axel! Axel, your competition has arrived!”

The suitcases were tugged away from Roxas and the throng of people around him cleared revealing, there, across the space, standing at the head of a banquet table laden with bigos, golonka, pierogi, schabowy, placki, pączki and a range of drinks like compotes, oranżada, piwo, and żubrówka, was Axel in familiar jeans and a black shirt with flame motifs that Roxas had bought him as a gift two years ago. They looked at each other across the space.

Voices sang out, praising the magnificent beards they both sported.

Roxas saw Axel’s thick, dark beard; a Bandholz, like his own. They walked toward each other and stopped in the middle of the floor. Roxas craned his neck to look up, Axel smirked down.

“You look like a real Viking,” Axel said.

“You look like a mismatched pirate. Didn’t feel like dyeing your beard?”

“It’s too much red. Makes me look like a tomato. I’ll show you the photos of when I tried.” “Cool.”

They grinned at each other and Axel threw his arms around Roxas, lifting him off the ground in a tremendous hug. Roxas’ face got smothered in the scratchy beard but he still giggled and when he dropped back to the ground hooked his hands around Axel’s neck and gave him a chaste peck on the lips.

They pulled apart laughing a little.

“That’s something new to get used to,” Axel commented, rubbing his lips.

Roxas nodded and threaded his fingers through Axel’s.

“Come on everyone,” Sora, Roxas’ half-brother, shouted over the crowd. “Now that both our competitors are here let's get the judging going and then eat!” Cheers of enthusiasm rose and Axel and Roxas were ushered before the panel.

Roxas and Axel were examined in turn, their beards evaluated for physical appearance: thickness, length, feel. And then for popularity, which opened up to the entire group of assembled people.

Roxas grinned up wildly as he was crowned Beard King and received a victory parade amongst the shoulders of his friends to wild chanting before he was dropped on his ‘throne’, which was just a high backed chair in the middle of the banquet table laid out. He was presented with an enormous hamper of goodies relating to beard care and then Axel took his seat next to Roxas and everyone joined in on eating all the delicious food before them.

Much talk was had over dinner regarding Roxas’ time away—as he studied in a different state and only came back home over the summer and Christmas breaks. He was caught up in everyone else’s lives as well and then after three hours of eating, chatting, and boozing, wished everyone a good night as well as thanking everyone for crowning him king and coming out, and then he wheeled his luggage to Axel’s red Kia Cerato coup parked at the restaurants car park and got in to go back to their place.

“What does my liege want to do when we get home?” Axel asked, fondling the tip of Roxas’ beard as he drove along the street.

“I want to go through that basket of goodies with you, play with your beard, and play with you. I’ve missed you so much.” Roxas clasped Axel’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek.

Axel stroked him when he stopped his rubbing motion. “At least we get three long months of being together until you have to go back to college.” Roxas groaned. “It’s going to be so good, even when I do have to go back because we’ll be able to video call and won’t have to keep this beard stuff a secret from one another anymore.”

Axel nodded. “Yeah. If I had known what we were getting into I might not have agreed to this. Six months is too long without seeing your… well… rugged face. I can’t really call you pretty now, can I? I didn’t actually believe you’d look so much older with a beard.” “C’mon, you didn’t even think I could grow one. Not that I know why. You’ve seen dad, he’s always had a really respectable circle beard.” Axel shrugged. “I guess I look at your baby face and just… could never picture it.” “I’ll make sure we take a lot of photos so you’ll never forget. Have I shown you photos of dad from when he didn’t have a beard? I get my baby face from him. Underneath his beard, you’d think he’s twenty years younger than he is.” “Can’t say I’ve seen those. So when you’re fifty you’ll look thirty?”

“You know it. I can be your baby-faced sugar-daddy.” Roxas cracked up laughing at Axel’s bewildered scowl.

“For one, you are only two years older than me, and two, at this moment I’m your sugar-daddy since I work.” “True, but once I finish my degree and start working I’ll make so much money that you’ll be able to go part-time and look after our fur-babies.”

A strangled noise left Axel’s throat. “This is why I love you so much. You’re willing to protect me from a grueling working life.” Axel quickly leaned over, Roxas also leaned in and they shared a small kiss.

Roxas giggled. “So tickly and hairy.” ----------------------------------------------------

They arrived at their small cottage-esque house which they were renting. It had an undercover carport, a disheveled wooden fence, dry grassy patches, and a dead flowerbed. The door opened up right to their living room. A hallway ran through the door on the right, leading to the two bedrooms, and bathroom, with a separate toilet, and to the left of the living room was a door which led to the kitchen and laundry. Their backyard was an overgrown monstrosity which Axel only tended to when the landlords came around for inspections. The house was drafty, they were pretty sure black mold grew in the vents in the laundry and bathroom, but it was affordable, small, and let them live together when Roxas came home over college breaks.

Axel helped Roxas get his bags out of the car, they stowed them away to deal with later and sat on their plush, tan faux-leather couch whilst rifling through the content of the prize basket.

“It was really nice of everyone to pitch in and get us this gift basket,” Axel said, pulling out a beard-care kit consisting of several brushes, some oils and waxes, and a few trimming essentials.

“What do you mean us? This is mine.” Roxas glared, but he couldn't repress the bubbling-inside grin.

“You're really gonna use all of this Beard Candy and King of Wood all by yourself?” Axel held up the respectively named balm tin and oil bottle.

Both of them giggled.

“I might.” Roxas grabbed for the bottle. “I am king of wood.”

“You're more candy, darling.” Axel snatched the bottle and shoved the tin at Roxas.

Roxas gasped with playful offended. “Not true. I am King Beard. Everyone thinks so. We had a vote, remember?”

“We did. You really want to keep all this to yourself though?”

“Nah. WHat’s mine is yours—Oooo! There’s dye and glitter!”

Axel looked at the packets Roxas held up and went diving into the basket. “Ribbons too. Who do you reckon snuck this stuff in?”

Roxas thought for a moment humming and hawing.

“Sora!” they both shouted in unison and cracked up laughing.

Axel put the items he held down and got up. “You want anything, babe? Tea? Hot chocolate? Water?”

“A tall drink of something hot and sweet.” Roxas made eyes at Axel, who grinned broadly.

A spark of lust ignited in Axel’s eyes. He stepped close to Roxas, bent down and kissed him, pushing him against the couch. The hairs against Roxas’ lips tickled. He wrapped his arms around Axel’s shoulders, pulling them chest to chest and Axel climbed up to straddle Roxas’ lap. Roxas pushed his tongue into Axel, who sucked gently. Both of them hummed and pulled apart.

“I do actually want a drink though,” Roxas sniggered.

“On its way, sugarplum.” Axel slid off and headed to the kitchen.

Roxas’ cheeks were plump and hot from all the smiling. He had missed Axel so much. He listened to Axel banging away in the kitchen, as taps turned on and off, drawers and cupboards opened and shut, and container lids popped in and out of place. Roxas kept looking through the goodies in the basket. He really appreciate everyone's support, but most of all Axel's for doing this with him—even if they were pitted against each other.

Axel talked to him from the kitchen. They talked about Roxas’ flight home, Axel's job and then Axel was back, carrying a tall mug of steaming liquid, gasped with whipped cream. He set that down on a coaster before Roxas and put a much more sensibly succeed mug down for himself, filled with what smelled like chili tea.

“It's so good to have your back, babe.” Axel leaned over and kissed Roxas, who cupped Axel’s cheek and stoked along where skin met beard. Roxas could taste the light spice on Axel's lips as he had been sipping his tea before he had come in.

Axel left small touches on Roxas’ arms, trailing up to his neck where slender fingers caressed and rubbed. Roxas melted into the touch and hungered with his kissing of his boyfriend.

Axel pulled away, licking his lips. “Have your drink. I slaved over it.”

“Oh, what hard work it was to push buttons, wait for water to boil, and open the fridge to get whipped cream out.”

“It was the hardest. I had to do it all without you there.”

Axel was being ridiculous but it twinged in Roxas’ heart. “Okay, I retract my previous sarcastic remark.” He grabbed his drink, snuggled closer to Axel, and licked at the cream and sipped, humming with appreciation.

Axel looked down at Roxas and simply said, “Yum.”

Roxas huffed out a small laugh and felt his cheeks turning pink. He was glad for his beard.

“You're giving me all sorts of ideas looking like that.” Axel quirked an eyebrow.

Roxas’ stomach knotted. Having been debited their webcam sessions made him feel excessively deprived of his boyfriend touch. “Kiss me.”

Axel obliged, leaning down, sucking Roxas’ lip onto his mouth for brief moments and then flicking his tongue over Roxas to lip, licking the cream off which gathered in his beard.

Roxas held his drink away from the both of them and gently pulled on the end of Axel's beard, drawing the other man in for another kiss. Roxas pulled away then, humming. “I've missed you, babe. Let's never have a comp like this again.”

“Your beard as itchy as mine feels?” Axel scratched at his chin.

Roxas chuckled. “No. It feels pretty good, but I mean the not being able to see each other bit.”

“Ahh, yeah. Agreed. I mean, this,” he brushed the fuzzy edge of Roxas’ beard, “is actually surprisingly attractive on you, but I get what you mean.” Axel leaned in and hushed against Roxas’ love, “Your voice in my ear is honey to me but seeing you touching yourself is my bread and butter.” Axel kissed Roxas behind his ear, making him shiver.

Roxas nuzzled Axel's cheek, making them both giggle because their beards tickled.

Axel clapped Roxas’ thigh. “C'mon, let's do some beard stroking and grooming. I want my beard to look like Nori from the Hobbit. Which dwarf do you want to be?”

Roxas laughed. They had been talking about the wacky beards of the dwarves from that movie trilogy for at least two months now. “Gloin. His beard is magnificent!, plus, I found a packet of beads at the bottom of the basket.”

Axel nodded. “All right, my glorious Norse God. Let's doll each other up.”

Roxas giggled with delight.

They spent the next two hours taking turns combing and braiding each other's beards. Roxas split Axel's dark, silky beard into three prongs, found done large clasps to target the end and hair-sprayed the shit out of the two outer parts of the beard to make them stand stiff and jut out from Axel's face.

Then it was Roxas’ turn. Axel sectioned parts off, braiding and beading the thick, wiry hair into the desired shape.

They shared many kisses throughout and traversed down memory lane as they recalled the early days of growing out their beards and how itchy the first few weeks were. Thinking about it made both of them itch.

When their beards were all finished they took a photo as a keepsake.

“Are you sure you want to shave off our chin-curtains tomorrow?” Axel asked, touching Roxas’ dark blond hair.

Roxas burst out laughing. “Chin-curtains? Are you getting attached to yours? You've been doing nothing but complaining about it for months.”

“Well, I like all the touching. I like us sitting together and doing each other.” Axel couldn't keep a straight face as he said that.

Roxas rolled his eyes as he smiled brightly. “We can still touch each other no matter what.” He slid an arm around Axel's waist.

#akuroku #akrk #beard #wip #woeful wip wednesday #cream pudding writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Not Nineteen Forever (17) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey angels! thank u for ur patience, here is yet another chapter of the hellscape that is n19f. as i said on my blog, u will either love this chapter or hate it. either way let me know what u think!! this is a big chunky one at 13k (ik i’m treating u during this quarantine) so grab ur snacks and settle in. lots of love, byeee!

trigger warning: a little light drinking xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet celebrated her birthday by helping Nina win back Monet, a surprise party organised by her girlfriend, and a suspiciously civil Brooke and Vanjie.

this chapter: from one birthday to another, the gang heads out to the country to celebrate Brooke and Akeria’s 22nd. everyone seems back on good terms, but will the combination of hide and seek, truth or dare, a hot tub and of course a lil bit of alcohol change anything?

***

“Holiday!...da-da-da-dum-dum-daaa, Celebrate!”

Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself laughing as Nina rolled her suitcase towards Monet’s car. “It’s hardly a holiday, is it, girl? Overnighter in an airbnb in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?”

“Listen, I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much,” Nina raised her eyebrows, as Monet lifted the door of the boot up and Nina heaved her case inside.

“Oh, what a compliment,” Monet quipped from beside her, Brooke making a sick noise as Nina slid her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and gave her a squeeze.

“Not with girlfriends, obviously. You’re a Tesco Finest girlfriend. Not a smartprice girlfriend,” Nina explained, Monet smiling proudly and nuzzling their noses together. Brooke already wanted to vomit and she wasn’t even car sick yet.

“Pack it in, bitches, or Monet’s uninvited,” she deadpanned, pushing herself off the wall she was currently leaning against and looking up at her bedroom window, ignoring the girls’ shouts of indignation. “Right, have you got everything, yeah?”

“Have you seen the size of this bitch’s suitcase? I think she has literally managed to pack your kitchen sink,” Monet cocked an eyebrow at Nina, who elbowed her in the ribs. Nina produced her phone from the pocket of her dungaree dress.

“Hey Google, can you divorce your girlfriend?” she asked into the speaker, Monet howling a laugh and shoving her.

“Seriously, guys, I haven’t packed enough anti-sickness tablets for this,” Brooke said dryly, making her way to the passenger door.

“Oh, are you planning on recreating the great rail replacement bus fiasco of ‘18?” came a voice, Brooke turning round and narrowing her eyes at her smug flatmate, emerging through the door with her girlfriend and a small holdall bag.

“I was sat hungover opposite the toilet on a three hour coach journey, what the hell else was I expected to do?” Brooke defended herself. Yvie sat down on the wall outside their building, Scarlet joining her.

“Hmm, all I’ll say, Monet, is that I hope you have at least three empty plastic bags in the back seat with her,” she advised smugly, Brooke wishing she was still leaning against the wall so she could shove her off it.

“When is Plastique coming for you guys? Can I arrange for you to be sitting in the middle of the road when she drives up it?”

“Hey, what the fuck did I say?!” Scarlet yelped, outraged.

“You’re a bystander, Scarlet, and a bystander is worse than a bully,” Nina remarked sagely, Monet nodding along in support.

“Besides, I’m allowed to bully Brooke. It’s part of the lease,” Yvie shrugged, fixing the huge round sunglasses that had been on the top of her head and positioning them so they were right at the bridge of her nose. The March sunshine was welcome; it made Brooke feel happy, optimistic of things to come. Even the small scrub of grass out the front of their stairwell had bright purple, yellow and white bulbs poking through it, bringing a defiant sense of beauty to their surroundings. Brooke had been so pleased with the weather when she’d opened her curtains that morning that she’d packed a bunch of clothes she usually reserved for the summer. It felt odd wearing her denim skirt without the black tights she’d clad herself in for the past three months, but it was a welcome feeling. Yvie hadn’t really seemed to get the Summery memo other than her sunglasses- a huge knitted jumper covered in holes hung off her skinny frame and a pair of thick exercise leggings kept her legs warm.

“You couldn’t spruce yourself up a bit for my birthday, bitch? I feel like any minute now you’re going to start dancing around the street moulting straw singing about how you desperately want a brain,” Brooke smirked, Yvie simpering a fake smile and giving her the finger in response.

“It’s only fifteen degrees, Brooke, it’s hardly time to crack out the Kopparberg and blast T Shirt Weather yet,” Scarlet laughed. It was a bit hypocritical, Brooke thought as she looked Scarlet’s outfit up and down- a floaty, lacey dress and a pair of white Adidas- but of course she would defend her girlfriend. It wasn’t actually fair, contemplated Brooke. Scarlet and Yvie would always team up, so would Monet and Nina. Brooke had to fight all her battles herself.

“Besides, your birthday is over! Move on, hoe,” Yvie smiled, running forward and shaking Brooke’s shoulders relentlessly as the other girls laughed uproariously in the background. Brooke laughed and batted her away, knowing she was just joking. As she shoved her friend off of her, a familiar grey Audi drove up their street and pulled in behind Monet’s car. Plastique gave her horn a little beep, waving and rolling down her window.

“Let’s ride, bitches! I’m so ready for this weekend,” she squealed, as Yvie and Scarlet rushed to shove their bags in the boot of her car.

“I think I’ve been ready since we booked it,” Nina sighed, stretching. “Right, let’s go, girls! Dun-duun-da-na-na-dun dun.”

As Nina continued singing Shania Twain and hopped in the passenger seat of Monet’s car, Brooke passed by Plastique’s window and gave her hand a squeeze. “You know how to get there, yeah?”

“Up the motorway then off at junction 4 and then just follow all the signs for the B road. We good,” she nodded, then gave a laugh. “Kiki’ll probably end up in France somehow, you know what her sense of direction is like.”

“Yeah, but she’s got Silky and Vanj to direct her. She’ll be fine,” Brooke shrugged, thumping on Plastique’s door and making for the other car. “Right, see you ladies at the airbnb!”

Monet blasted her horn once, twice, three times as Brooke dashed into the back seat and buckled up. As Nina connected her phone to the aux cord and started blasting typically Nina-ish cheesy music, Brooke felt an excited little smile creep up on her face, slapping her hands against her thighs to the beat. The past almost-a-month had gone by quickly, and Brooke and Akeria’s shared birthday trip away had arrived before Brooke had known it. It had been booked on a whim, an excited message from Akeria on the group chat about a potential birthday night out had grown arms and legs until suddenly the girls were all transferring her money for a night in the country to jointly celebrate her and Brooke’s birthdays. They had turned 22 within ten days of each other, and the girls had all decided that the amount of money they would have spent on two big nights out- Ubers, big bottles of vodka for pres, club entry, club drinks and cheesy chips at the end of the night- probably equated to the same, if not more, than the amount they would drop on a boujie house in the country. The house they had booked was huge- five big bedrooms with floor to ceiling windows, a lounge straight out of a murder mystery drama with plush sofas, towering bookshelves and a massive roaring fire, a kitchen with a table big enough to fit them all round and an aga with what seemed to be a thousand burners- though whether anyone would know how to work the damn thing was anyone’s guess, Brooke thought with a snort. The icing on the cake of the whole place, though, was a huge section of outdoor decking with a hot tub set in the middle of it. To most of the girls it would be like living somebody else’s life for the weekend, but, Brooke thought mischievously, to Plastique it would probably seem the same as a weekend at home.

Brooke was glad they could all do something like this, go away together after what had happened. She didn’t really know what had happened to Vanessa to make her warm up to her so unexpectedly. It had all started when they were preparing for Scarlet’s birthday surprise; Brooke remembered how hard her heart had been beating that morning as she’d known it was the first time she’d be properly seeing Vanessa since they broke up, having to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans as the door to the kitchen had opened and Vanessa, Akeria and Silky had walked in. Akeria and Silky, to their credit, had been fine and normal with Brooke, despite the amount of dragging through the mud they had probably done to her name when they’d heard the news of her and Vanessa’s breakup. Vanessa, (understandably, thought Brooke) had hugged Yvie, Plastique and Nina, but not Brooke, the obviousness of the action lost in the frenetic melee of the girls seeing each other all at once. Brooke had preferred that, though. She wouldn’t have wanted the awkwardness of reminding herself how perfectly her arms seemed to fit around Vanessa, the brief scent of the Aussie shampoo she used in her hair, her head against her chest even for just the tiniest second.

After that, Vanessa had started with the digs. Brooke had thought she’d had malicious intent at first, until she got bored and decided to fire back.

(Yvie’s voice had yelled from the hallway. “Who’s made the cupcakes yet? Anyone?”

“Well if it’s Brooke, we all dyin’ tonight.”

“At least I can make something! How much do you drop on Deliveroo in a month, like, half your student loan?”)

With each verbal sparring match, Brooke had watched as the small, sardonic snorts Vanessa had given evolved into a full-blown beaming smile, the kind she always used to shoot Brooke’s way with the perfect white teeth and the tiny dimple and the little blush that hit her cheeks. It was almost painful knowing that Brooke had given up that smile. And that had been the moment. The moment that Brooke had finally admitted to herself what she’d been wanting to deny all this time- she deeply wished she hadn’t ended things with Vanessa, that she’d fought through the ick and given it at least more of a shot than she had. Now Vanessa had moved on and she was seeing someone else and she was happy. Happy without Brooke. Why had Brooke broken up with her so quickly?

She was an idiot.

“She was an idiot.”

Brooke snapped out of her trance, blinking and trying to figure out how Monet had managed to get inside her head. “What?”

“That woman. Blue car. Completely cut me off,” Monet rolled her eyes, frowning as she inched forward in the traffic until she was almost bumper to bumper with the car in question.

“Oh M'net, don’t start a fight,” Nina sighed, resting her knees against the glovebox.

“I’m not! I’m just letting a bitch know that her misconduct was noted,” Monet growled.

“Her misconduct was noted? God, you’re such a teacher,” Nina laughed, a big chuckle with loads of heart that made Brooke smile.

“Hey, so are you!”

“Stop fucking bickering or I will take your vocal cords and strangle you with them!” Brooke cried, tiring quickly. She watched Monet smirk in the rear view mirror.

“It’s alright, Neens. Just because Brooke’s jealous of happy couples and regrets breaking it off with Vanjie-”

“Wait what? I don’t…oh, Nina, for fuck’s sake! I told you not to tell anyone!” Brooke snapped, training accusatory eyes on her friend. After Scarlet’s birthday, she’d told Nina what she’d told Yvie, just in a little more detail, and she’d been more sympathetic than her other flatmate, making her tea and nodding understandingly as Brooke vented at her. Nina was usually good with secrets, a reliable and trustworthy friend. Brooke couldn’t understand why she would-

“Ahahaha!!! BITCH! You just totally exposed yourself! Oh my God!!” Monet screeched in time with her tyres, thumping her hand against the steering wheel. Brooke was confused, her heart still thudding. “Nina ain’t told me shit but I got eyes and ears, an’ I saw you two flirting at Scarlet’s. All damn day and night. You don’t act like that with someone you just broke up with.”

“Yeah I’m afraid you just spilled your own secret, Brooke,” Nina deadpanned from the passenger seat, giving a little laugh.

“Shit,” Brooke sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Great. Well, you probably think I’m a total asshole, Monet.”

“Hey, I’m a very chill person! You do you, girl. You wanna get with Vanessa for 3 months, break up with her for one and then get back with her again, that’s no business of mine,” Monet shrugged, a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, I know I made a mistake, thanks,” Brooke sighed, biting her lip as she let her thoughts wash over her. Monet had a unique angle on the whole situation. She lived with Monique, of course, and that whole thing was still going on between her and Vanessa, if a message Vanessa had accidentally sent to the group chat last week was anything to go by. Brooke had wondered for days on end whether it had actually been an accident or not, the content of the message sending her crazy with jealousy as it was essentially just Vanessa begging Monique to come round and fuck her into the mattress. She’d considered whether or not it could have been deliberate, but the absolute roasting Vanessa had received afterwards from the other girls couldn’t have been worth it if it had. Brooke considered asking Monet for some inside knowledge, decided against it, and then did a U-turn as she concluded that her pride and dignity were already bruised so she might as well go the whole hog and shatter them.

“So, uh…Vanessa’s still seeing Monique.”

Monet ran her tongue over her teeth. “She’s certainly round at the flat a lot.”

“So is that, uh…I mean, do you think that’s going to turn into anything more, or…?”

“I don’t know, girl, I don’t know if it’s my place to say.”

This is like pulling teeth. “Do you think they-”

“They’re having a lot of sex.”

“Monet!” Nina burst out in a shocked laugh.

“What?! They are!”

“Excellent!” Brooke exclaimed sarcastically, staring out the window as the city around them turned into fields and the houses turned into service stations.

“C’mon, Brooke, you have to admit you do kinda deserve this a lil’ bit,” Monet laughed, Brooke rolling her eyes from the back seat.

“Right, both of you shut up. I’m officially banning any conversations about pining or relationships until we get to the house. We sing, we eat snacks, occasionally we play I Spy. That’s it,” Nina scolded them, turning around in her seat and staring Brooke down. Brooke had never felt more like a disgraced teenager in her life.

“Ughhhh, fine, Mom,” Monet groaned, changing up into fifth as they hit the motorway, the weekend becoming more real and making Brooke tingle with excitement despite the news she hadn’t wanted to hear.

Just as Nina had ordered them, the three girls spent the rest of the journey singing at the top of their lungs to Vengaboys, B*Witched and Cascada, Brooke on crisp duty as she passed the cavernous bag of barbecue rib McCoys forward every five minutes or so, Monet making hurried grabs at crinkle cut crisps in between changing gears. Brooke managed to avoid the dreaded travel-sickness that had plagued her since she was about six years old, much to Monet and Nina’s delight. The sun didn’t let up, and it still hung proudly in the sky as the girls pulled up the leafy, tree-lined driveway to the house they’d booked, the branches hanging low and curling around each other signalling they hadn’t been cut in a while. Spying Akeria’s Corsa and Plastique’s Audi already parked, Monet pulled up alongside the huge white house, the little set of three stone chimneys on the roof puffing out smoke and letting the girls know that at least one room wouldn’t be too cold inside. As Monet neatened up her parking, the sound of Silky’s screeching cut through the crunching of wheels against gravel, and the rest of the girls spilled out of the front door shortly afterwards. As soon as the car had stopped, Brooke excitedly hopped out of the passenger seat, hugging any girl she could reach. Before she knew it, she’d found herself pulling out of a quick hug with Vanessa, and the two were in front of each other.

“Hey,” Brooke decided quickly to speak first, setting the tone so there wouldn’t be any awkward pauses.

“Hey! How was your ride? Get here okay?” Vanessa asked politely, tucking a strand of her caramel hair behind one ear. She was dressed in a tiny little cropped black jumper and some faded grey jeans, Brooke trying to ignore her mind reminding her of how right it felt to wrap her arms around Vanessa again, how tiny her waist was and how much she wished she could go back for another hug- for fuck’s sake, cut that shit out.

“Uh, yeah! It was fine. Traffic wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

Vanessa let out a laugh. “Shit was like Wacky Races. Akeria nearly rammed some old cunt off the road. I’ve never seen road rage like it, we genuinely feared for our lives. Or her license. Oh my God, this house is insane. C’mon, you need to see it!”

There was a split-second where Brooke felt Vanessa tug at her hand, which was quickly dropped as if the action had never happened. It was almost as if Vanessa had been on automatic pilot; the ease with which she used to slip her hand into Brooke’s hadn’t been forgotten by either of them. And then Brooke felt Plastique leap onto her back like a monkey, and the girl was excitedly chattering away to her, and the moment had passed.

Brooke barely had time to take in the huge cream-painted hall with the varnished cream stairs stretching practically up to the ceiling when Plastique steered her down two steps and into the kitchen, grey stone tiles making Brooke’s feet feel cold even through her trainers and the huge wooden table overflowing with assorted snacks. Akeria and Scarlet clung to the rail of the AGA, the two girls clearly feeling the cold in the chilly kitchen.

“Did any of us actually bring a meal between us or are we just going to live off of Twirl Bites and Classic Dip Selections?” Yvie wondered, picking up a four-pack of various dips. Brooke laughed.

“Hey, there’s pizzas in the fridge! Do y’all really think I would let you starve?” Silky piped up, opening the huge fridge to reveal at least ten pizzas, more than they would eat in one night.

“Nobody goes hungry in the presence of Silky Nutmeg Ganache,” Plastique smiled proudly, holding her fist out for Silky to punch. As the girls’ fists connected, Brooke watched as Vanessa scraped a wooden chair out against the stone floor.

“You girls wanna have a munch and then get wrecked?”

“Hmm, if we get drunk too early then there’s no way we’ll be able to work this oven,” Scarlet shrugged, biting her lip and frowning.

“Yeah, we’re gonna struggle to operate this sober,” Monet considered, opening up one of the oven doors and investigating.

“Well how about we snack and then play a game? I wanna play hide and seek in here,” Nina bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. Akeria snorted.

“Hide and seek, you’re such a child. But to be fair, that could be fun. Or sardines.”

“What’s that?” asked Brooke. “I don’t know if we had that but called it something else.”

“That one where one person hides and everyone else seeks,” Yvie explained. “It’s way better. Way more chaotic.”

“Sweet. I’m down,” Brooke shrugged. She was glad that all of the girls she was friends with were happy to dick about and play kids’ games for an afternoon, and it was the kind of thing she’d miss when she graduated and would have to find a job.

The girls were all feeling peckish after their long drive, though, so they all grabbed the nearest snacks they could and headed upstairs to the living room, where Akeria had managed to start the fire which was crackling warmly in the huge marble fireplace. They all dumped their food on the huge glass-topped coffee table and had a little explore around the house before they relaxed. There was a surplus of bedrooms, and it had been agreed that since they were celebrating Brooke and Akeria’s birthdays, the two girls should have a bedroom to themselves each. Brooke’s bedroom had a huge bay window out to the rear of the house where the fields stretched for miles, and an actual four-poster bed.

“I can’t help but feel like you guys should take this room and I should take yours,” Brooke said with a pang of guilt for Yvie and Scarlet, who had dumped their things in the room they were sharing and had come to investigate Brooke’s.

Scarlet made a noise of discouragement. “No, it’s fine! This’ll get cold anyway, it’s so big. Our room’s cosier.”

Brooke watched Scarlet share a smile with her girlfriend and wrap both of her arms around Yvie’s. “Yeah, honestly, Brooke, it’s fine. Scarlet would manage to bump her head and toe and Christ knows what else on all four of the posts anyway.”

Scarlet burst out into offended laughter, letting the girls know that she secretly agreed a little bit.

“How’re the others?” Brooke asked, peering down the little corridor with the exposed wooden beams and hearing chatter and Monet’s deep laughter coming from the other rooms.

“Plastique, Silk and Vanj are all in together. I think V drew the short straw so she’s on the sofa bed,” Scarlet gave a shrug.

“That’s unfortunate,” Yvie commented, raising her eyebrows at Brooke slightly.

“Behave,” Brooke smacked her, not appreciating the implication. Vanessa had only just become friends with her again. They were hardly going to spend the entire night going at it like rabbits just because Vanessa wasn’t looking at her like she wanted to kill her anymore. “Come on, lovebirds. I feel like I haven’t shovelled enough crisps down my throat today.”

The three girls made their way to the living room again, where Nina and Monet were draped over the sofa and snacking on some sort of jelly sweets. Gradually the other girls joined them in drips and drabs and they spent the time chatting and gossiping in their usual way- about anything and everything under the sun. Brooke kept finding her eyes being drawn to Vanessa. It wasn’t entirely her fault- she was sitting opposite her, and often Brooke would find her already looking her way. Although that could have just been Brooke’s imagination. God, she didn’t even know anymore.

“Right!” Nina cried, as everyone looked dangerously close to slipping into a snack-induced coma. “Sardines time!”

“Kiki should hide first, it’s her birthday!” Silky argued immediately, Brooke only the tiniest bit affronted.

“Hey, hey, it’s Brooke’s birthday too. Also, I feel like y’all are way more enthusiastic than me about this, so I really don’t mind.”

“Brooke hides first!” Nina shouted unnecessarily. Brooke stood up from the sofa and rolled her eyes.

“Wait, so everyone is after me? Christ. This is like that nightmare I had about being on Hunted.”

“Good luck tryna squeeze that Jolly Green Giant-ass body into any of these cupboards, bitch!” Vanessa yelled across the room to uproarious laughter, Brooke turning round in time to see Vanessa stick her tongue out at her.

“Oh, like you can talk! Are you not the same size as an actual Subway sandwich?” Brooke bit back, sticking her tongue out right back and feeling an excited fizz in her stomach as she caught Vanessa blushing slightly as she laughed. As the other girls joined in with the mocking and all piled on each other, Brooke spotted two girls who weren’t laughing- Akeria and Silky were looking at each other knowingly, a look that seemed to convey disapproval. What the hell was their problem? If Vanessa was fine with her, then that meant there was no reason for the two of them to hold a grudge either, right?

Brooke frowned, trying not to read too much into it. She turned around and headed out the door. “Okay, count to 100 then, bitches!”

As she heard the others all start chanting descending numbers like a terrifying cult of mathematicians, Brooke began dashing around the house for a place to hide. She ran past the bedrooms, assuming that the others would check there straight away. Brooke considered going behind the porch door, but then thought that might end up being too obvious. She found herself in the kitchen, and to her delight she noticed a huge wooden door set into the wall that had to be a cupboard. Opening it, she saw what looked to be a pantry- shelves and shelves with only a couple of tins left by other guests at the house. It was good, but Brooke didn’t think it was a particularly great place to hide until she spotted another door at the very end of the pantry- slightly smaller with a little circular handle. As Brooke turned it, she was confronted with a tiny dark room, with only the blinking lights of the boiler that sat inside to illuminate it.

Perfect.

As Brooke hopped in, she could hear the blood roaring in her ears and her heart thumping. She wanted to giggle. This was exactly how it had felt to play hide and seek when she was little, and she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old still feeling the same way. Hell, she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old playing hide and seek. Gradually, she began to hear the sound of footsteps thundering above her, the old ceiling creaking and letting Brooke know the girls were on their way. Then, it all went silent for a while. Brooke breathed out heavily. Just then, she heard the door to the pantry open and one set of footsteps shuffle through it. They dashed to the end of the room and then seemed to be satisfied that there was nothing more to investigate- until Brooke heard them do what seemed to be a double-take. Keeping her breathing silent, Brooke stood frozen to the spot as she saw the door gradually open with a long, murder-mystery style creaaak…

Shit.

Vanessa stood at the doorframe to the cupboard, a shit-eating grin on her face. “I’ve been tellin’ Yvie I’m the best at hide and seek, but she ain’t believe me. What’d that take me, two minutes?”

“Yeah, good job, Poirot,” Brooke smirked, although it was hiding a multitude of nerves. Her and Vanessa, stuck in a tight, dark space together until the other girls found them. This was fine. This would be fine. “Right come on then, girl, you need to get in.”

“Fuck no, I ain’t goin’ in there! That’s a straight-up spiders’ nest, fuck that.”

“Just get in!” Brooke grabbed her gently but firmly by the wrist and dragged her inside, closing the door behind them. It was entirely dark except for the small strip of light where the door met the doorframe, which illuminated Vanessa’s hair and collarbones. There was a small beat of silence in which Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness again, and when her vision had settled she could see Vanessa smiling at her cheekily. “What?”

“There’s a spider in your hair.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No there’s not.”

“There is! A big one. It’s some Harry Potter type shit, I swear.”

“Shut up, Vanessa, I’m not falling for that shit,” Brooke snorted a laugh, squashing the unease that began to creep up on her.

“It’s got, like, a billion eyes.”

“Has it.”

“An’ forty legs,” Vanessa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck kind of biology classes did you go to? A spider with forty leg- JESUS!” Brooke all at once cut herself off, feeling a movement at her shoulder, her hair flicking against her neck slightly. She gave herself such a jolt that it felt like whiplash, and she watched as Vanessa laughed at her brushing wildly against her shoulder. Brooke was confused when her hand connected with another hand. Vanessa’s hand. How the hell she’d managed to reach up there without Brooke’s notice was anyone’s guess, but she’d certainly done what she’d set out to do. Brooke launched herself forward and squeezed a hand at Vanessa’s waist, laughing as the other girl screeched in response. The two girls descended into giggles, Brooke having to fend off Vanessa’s playful swipes as she berated her.

“Shut up, bitch! You’re going to get us caught!” Brooke laughed, grabbing one of Vanessa’s wrists in each hand. Suddenly, both girls paused, the compromising position they were in dawning on both of them. The memory of when she used to pin Vanessa to the bed with both her wrists and kiss her neck shot through Brooke’s mind like a hot iron, unwanted and welcome all at once. In the darkness, she could see Vanessa’s single raised eyebrow.

“You telling me you don’t wanna get caught?” she murmured, her voice low and making the atmosphere charged and thick with something that hadn’t been there before. Brooke squeezed her thighs together. This couldn’t turn into something else. She couldn’t let it.

“Well, that is the whole point of the game,” Brooke said, trying to inject as much level-headedness into her tone as she was able. To her dismay she watched as Vanessa’s eyes took on a dark twinkle.

“Oh, right, uh-huh. The game. Sure,” she smirked, Brooke only able to laugh in response because that way she wasn’t saying anything. This situation was fucked. It was so weird. Vanessa was flirting with her, unprompted. So what did this mean? That she still liked Brooke? That she wanted to be friends and was just playing? What did this mean for her and Monique? They couldn’t be that serious, then, if Vanessa was doing all this? Or maybe they’d fallen out and Vanessa wanted her to be jealous? But what was the point of making somebody jealous who wasn’t here? What if her and Monique were together and Vanessa was cheating? What if-

“AYYYYYY FUCKIN’ HOES! Yes! I’m shit-hot at this game, Jesus!” Silky threw the door open, screeching her head off and sending every thought that Brooke was overthinking into the stratosphere.

“Stop yellin’ bitch, and get in!” Vanessa laughed. As Silky squeezed into the ever-decreasing-in-space cupboard, Brooke felt her throat almost close up as Vanessa shuffled up against her to make more room, tilting her head up, locking eyes with Brooke and sending her a look that she couldn’t decipher before looking away and whispering to Silky.

They were eventually found by the other girls- namely because there was no space at all once Scarlet arrived so Plastique found half of the girls with one toe in the cupboard and the rest of their bodies outside of it. The game carried on, but Brooke’s head wasn’t properly in it. She would deliberately put in the bare minimum effort when she was looking for the girls because, really, she wouldn’t know what to do if she was stuck in another confined space with Vanessa. Why had it turned so weird before? All flirty and edged with something she couldn’t work out. It wasn’t right- Vanessa was meant to be mad at her, meant to hate her and never want to speak to her again and somehow they’d gone from civil, to nearly-friends, to eye-fucking each other in a boiler cupboard in the space of a month?

The encounter was still playing on Brooke’s mind as she got ready for dinner. The girls had all decided that they would “do a Love Island” (in the words of Akeria) and all get glammed up to sit in the living room and play games after they’d eaten. It felt funny to be putting on a dress, heels and fake lashes without the possibility of going out anywhere, but the methodical process of putting on her makeup was a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in Brooke’s head.

“Ayo,” came an unexpected voice, causing Brooke to flinch a little and drop the lipgloss she’d been applying moments before. Looking behind her in the mirror she saw it was just Yvie and Nina. Usually she’d have been happy to see them, but right now she was doing too much overthinking and couldn’t let on what had happened earlier between her and Vanessa. So Brooke just stuck on her best fake smile as she turned around to face them.

“Hey! You guys look so good,” she complimented them, Nina smiling and Yvie giving a little snort.

“Well I didn’t want to be accused of not making an effort for your birthday again,” she poked her tongue out at Brooke and tugged a little at the beads on the hem of her short gold dress.

“If you trip in those heels I hope you know that’s, like, instant paralysis,” Brooke commented, looking at the spikes of Yvie’s six inch stilettos. When the girl did glam, she did glam, Brooke had to give it to her.

“As if Yvie needs to be any taller than she already is,” Nina laughed playfully.

“Awh, she needs to be tall so she can look down on her smol bean uwu girlfriend,” Brooke teased, Nina continuing to giggle and Yvie giving an amused roll of her eyes.

“What’s up with you anyway, bitch? You’ve been, like, extra bitter around all the couples today. It’s supposed to be your birthday, cheer the fuck up,” Yvie gave her a little nudge with her foot. Brooke frowned. She didn’t think she had been being bitter, but maybe Yvie was right. Fuck, what had she even said today? Brooke hoped that Vanessa hadn’t noticed anything.

“No, that’s not true. I’m fine! Just…” Brooke sighed, the bingo-hall-style tombola spinning rapidly in her head to generate an excuse. “…exams are soon, you know, and I’ve not started revising yet-”

“Oh my God, bitch, they’re in May! This is March! Chill the hell out,” Yvie laughed, pulling Brooke up from her position on the floor by the long mirror in the corner of her room. “Let’s go eat pizza. If Monet and Plastique have worked out how to cook them in that 1920s horror oven.”

As Yvie excitedly strutted out of the room and Brooke made to join her, Nina reached out to squeeze her hand.

“You’re a crap liar, Brooke Lynn Hytes,” she hissed quietly, Brooke rolling her eyes and making to protest when Nina spoke again. “But I won’t push it. I just wish you’d open the fuck up more.”

Brooke felt guilty. “I just don’t…it’s something I don’t want to overthink, Nina. So the best way you can help is helping me stuff myself full of carbs then pouring a 24 pack of San Miguel down my throat.”

Nina nodded understandingly as they reached the top of the stairs, Brooke holding back a snort as she watched Yvie cling to the bannister for dear life as she descended. Nina gave her hand another squeeze, then dropped it. “I can do that. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Brooke shyly looked down at her short, black one-shoulder dress and smoothed it down. “Thanks, babe.”

Nina’s smile suddenly turned scheming. “And so does Vanessa.”

Before Brooke could protest, Nina was bounding down the stairs in her bright white Filas that she’d paired with her blue and white checked dress. It wasn’t as formal as Brooke’s or Yvie’s, but that was the beauty of having a glam night in a big house where it was just them- nobody could judge you for being over or underdressed.

As Brooke followed her flatmates into the kitchen, she was met with the sight of her friends all happy, chatting, and in their best outfits. Annoyed at herself, she found her eyes darting around to find Vanessa. She wanted to know why Nina had said what she’d said, wanted to know if she was just winding her up.

And then her eyes came to rest on the most gorgeous version of Vanessa she’d ever seen, and her anxiety dipped, did a loop, then spiked. They were both in black- some dumb coincidence that the earth had sent her way, no doubt- but Vanessa’s was shiny, a vinyl dress that clung to her as if it was made of latex and painfully highlighted every curve of her body. She’d paired it with red heels, which had straps that snaked their way up her calves and showcased her perfect skin. Her dark hair had been blow-dried out (probably by Akeria, Brooke guessed) and fell in perfect waves down her back and over her shoulders (had she fucking highlighted her collarbones?). Her makeup was, as usual, perfect, a dark shock of eyeshadow and an indecent red on her lips causing Brooke’s heart to race. The worst part, though, about the whole outfit, was the silver zip that ran from the top of the dress to the bottom, right in the middle at the front, and either Vanessa (or someone mucking about with her…probably Silky) had unzipped it just the tiniest amount. For about the hundredth time that month, Brooke cursed herself for breaking things off with Vanessa. It wasn’t just about her looks though, or her body, or how much she missed the sex. Their interaction in the cupboard made Brooke remember how funny Vanessa was, how much of an endearing goofball, how she was just a cheerful person whose only real wish in life was to be properly happy. And Brooke had hurt her, made her the exact opposite of that. Vanessa loved everything and everyone so deeply, was the most open of books, and was so unafraid of feeling. Meanwhile there was Brooke not even able to tell her own flatmates, the two girls that knew her best in the world, about her own feelings.

As she watched Vanessa’s eyes drift from Scarlet and Monet, who she’d been talking to, across the room to rest on her, Brooke felt her heart stop. Not giving a single thing away, Vanessa smiled, gave a little wave, and crossed the room to where Brooke stood.

“Hey!” she began, so confident and self-assured and making Brooke feel more like a trashbag than she already did. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks!” Brooke smiled, uncharacteristically flustered at the tiny compliment. “You look so beaud!”

Fuck. Brooke kicked herself for getting tongue tied, badly hoping Vanessa wouldn’t have noticed. As she watched a confused smile appear on her face, Brooke realised she’d have to explain herself. “I was going to say beautiful, then I changed it to good and they just sort of…mushed together.”

Brooke felt her face grow hot as Vanessa simply raised an eyebrow in a smirk. “I’ll take both. Beautiful and good.”

Just as Brooke was about to defend herself, Silky announced to the girls in her own Silky-esque way that the pizzas were ready, and, giving a cry of delight, Vanessa had dashed across the room and left Brooke forgotten about.

As they all ate, Brooke fought an internal battle. She had absolutely no right to feel sorry for herself, this mess was entirely of her own making. Besides, she had to put everything out of her head now; she had made her decision, Vanessa had moved on, and she had to let the whole thing drop. But despite all this, it didn’t stop her brain constantly pestering her with what-ifs.

It was still pestering her once they’d all finished their dinner and moved upstairs into the huge living room for drinks and games, so she was glad when Nina popped herself down beside her with two ice cold bottles of beer from the fridge.

“One for each hand,” she explained. Brooke burst out laughing. She fucking loved Nina so much.

“Where’s yours?”

“Monet’s making mojitos for me and her. I love having a girlfriend, it’s like a sexy butler that you get to have sex with and cuddle any time you want,” Nina mused wistfully, giving Brooke her second belly-laugh in the space of two minutes. As she composed herself, Monet came into the room with two huge tall glasses overflowing with crushed ice and garnished with lime and mint.

“Where the fuck did you get mint and limes?” Brooke asked, screwing her face up in confusion then scrambling to pull a slightly more attractive one as Vanessa came in flanked by Silky and Akeria.

“I brought them, bitch! Anyway what did I miss?”

“Nina called you a sexy butler,” Brooke said casually, sipping one of her two beers and smiling as she watched Nina grow flustered.

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting all the compliments today! First I was a Tesco Finest girlfriend, now I’m a sexy butler. You know how to treat a lady, Neens,” Monet teased, pulling her girlfriend in and smothering her with kisses on the cheek.

“Ugh, get that couple shit outta here,” Vanessa yelled from the other sofa, throwing a leftover crisp at them. Monet instantly snapped back.

“Uh, like you can talk, Vanj.”

“What the shit hell is that meant to mean?” Vanessa laughed, amused.

Akeria grew outraged as she turned around to face Vanessa, her long, straight hair swinging wildly as she flipped it over her shoulder. “NEED we remind you what you sent to the group chat last week?!”

Silky began yelling, mirroring the cries of woe and dismay that were circling through Brooke’s brain at being reminded that Monique was still very much in the picture. “NO we do NOT need reminded! I can’t go through that again, dear Jesus God…”

“Fuck babygirl, I need that mouth on me-” Akeria began reading dramatically from her screen, the girls cringing and laughing and every word feeling like a kick to Brooke’s gut as Vanessa, face bright red, wrestled with Akeria to get the phone out of her hands. “-I’m touching myself but you know it’s not the same- aw, V! Give it back!”

“I’m gonna eat this fuckin’ phone, Akeria Chanel Davenport, I swear,” Vanessa chided her furiously, holding the phone out of her reach then relenting, giving it back to her. Silky fanned herself dramatically, making the others laugh. As Brooke did her best fake laugh and joined in, she tried not to make eye contact with Vanessa’s embarrassed face.

“Aw, are we talking about the unfortunate dirty text incident?” Plastique’s voice came from the hall, everyone laughing again as she sat down in the armchair beside the fire. “Seriously, V, you should be a songwriter. I swear that whole thing could’ve been from a Kamille song or some shit-”

“Well, all sexts are a little bit cringey, aren’t they?” Nina offered kindly, attempting to cheer Vanjie up. In doing this, she only succeeded in earning herself an exasperated cry from Monet.

“V, do you wanna go out? I can’t stand this bitch any more, she just keeps insulting me.”

As everyone howled with laughter and Nina frantically smothered her girlfriend in kisses trying to get her back onside, Brooke sneaked a look at Vanessa. She was laughing, but her face was still a little red. Christ, she looked so cute. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Speaking of sex, I’m assuming Yvie and Scarlet went off to bang?” Plastique shrugged, everyone finally realising who was missing.

“Oh, fuck this! Save that shit for later!” Silky protested, Akeria laughing and whacking her.

“Hey, let them be happy! It’s my birthday so I’m sayin’ if they want to fuck, let ‘em. In the meantime I have an empty wine bottle and a room full of girls with secrets that need spilled,” Akeria announced. Plastique clapped excitedly, Silky cheered and Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake, Kiki, do we not already know all there is to know about each other?” she complained. Interesting. So Vanessa didn’t want to play truth or dare, a game she was usually always down for.

“Excuse the fuck outta me, we played that stupid tuna game earlier!”

“Sardines,” Brooke deadpanned, earning herself a laugh from the room.

“It was some type of fish, I got that much right.”

“How are you through a whole bottle of wine already?” Silky asked, impressed.

“Can I live? It’s my birthday! Now will you hoes stop pissing in my cereal and let’s play!” Akeria implored, setting the wine bottle down against the red carpet and spinning it so violently Brooke worried that it would smash on the marble grate. It slowed, turning round and round and finally resting right back at where Akeria leant down from the sofa. She let out a giggle. “Oops. Guess it’s me.”

“Keeks, truth or dare!” Plastique asked excitedly. Akeria tilted her head, deep in thought.

“Hmm. I ain’t drunk enough for dares yet, so let’s go truth.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone racked their brains to think of something. Monet was first with an idea.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Silk, Vanj or…uh…”

“Asia,” Vanessa said simply, sipping some coke and spirit concoction through a straw as Silky let out a screech. Brooke was confused. She met her eyes with Nina’s, who looked equally baffled.

“Wait, who’s Asia?” Nina asked. Akeria, to her credit, looked composed. To be fair, Brooke had hardly ever seen her look anything but.

“She’s a friend from my course. We did a paired project together an’ she came over to the flat to work on it the other week,” Vanessa shrugged. “Her an’ Kiki seemed to hit it off.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ crush on the girl, Jesus. Don’t make it weird,” Akeria rolled her eyes, blinking slowly. If Brooke squinted she might’ve spotted a flush to Akeria’s face, but perhaps that came from the glow of the fire.

Monet muttered under her breath to Brooke and Nina as the three flatmates bickered away. “Is Akeria gay?”

Brooke blew out a bunch of air. “Fuck, I don’t even know who’s what anymore.”

“She’s never classed herself as straight,” Nina elaborated cautiously. “She talks about getting dicked down by guys a lot. Then again, it’s really only Silky that does that and Keeks just joins in.”

“Silk and Vanj know something we don’t,” Brooke reasoned, watching as the two girls laughed and Akeria sat, poised and smirking at them indulgently as if they were kids.

“Right, enough! ‘Keria, fuck marry kill: Vanjie, Silk or Asia, then,” Monet shrugged, sipping her mojito.

Akeria flipped some hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the sky thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t decide who I’d rather kill, Silk or Vanj.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna fuck or marry Asia, correct?” Vanessa quipped, a little fire igniting in Brooke’s heart as she watched a wicked smile spread across her scheming face.

“No, I don’t know her well enough to have any strong feelings towards her either way. You and Silk, however…” Akeria raised her eyebrows long-sufferingly, coaxing a laugh out of the other girls. “Uhh, right, marry Asia, or whatever. Kill Silky.”

“Bitch! I’ll kill you for real,” Silky objected, pummeling Akeria’s arm with a cushion.

“Fuck Vanj because she likes girls anyway and if she’s going down on me it means she’s not talking with that fuckin’ gritter-truck voice of hers,” Akeria shrugged as she concluded, the room cheering and Vanessa doing a little celebratory bow. As she flipped her head up she caught Brooke’s eye, giving her a little wink. Brooke crossed her legs and tried not to think about Vanessa going down on anyone. Least of all her.

“Aight!” Akeria said, indicating to everyone that her turn was well and truly over. “We move.”

The bottle was spun once more, Brooke taking a long drink out of her bottle and draining it. She needed to be tipsier than this. Everyone else seemed a little more drunk than she was, apart from Vanessa who she noted was sipping her drink sparingly. Brooke shook her head a little, trying to stop bringing her focus to Vanessa every five minutes. She’d taken her heels off and tucked her legs up underneath her on the sofa, and her thighs looked good for it.

“Plastique, truth or dare!”

Plastique tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uhh, dare.”

Brooke knew what to do for this one. Plastique had taken Ariel on a couple of dates, but the girls were emotionally stunted and neither of them had properly articulated their feelings to the other yet. “Call Ariel and tell her how you feel about her. Properly.”

As the other girls “oooh"ed in appreciation, Plastique fixed Brooke with an unimpressed glare. "I’m not doing that.”

“Pussy,” Brooke shrugged, sipping her other beer. Vanessa let out a laugh from the other side of the room.

“Brooke Lynn’s telling someone else they’re a pussy for not being open about their feelings? Are we in the correct universe?"

As the other girls gave a laugh that was only the slightest bit uncomfortable, Brooke rolled her eyes. "Okay, well at the very least send her a heartfelt text.”

“Why are you pushing this so much, ma?” Plastique pouted as she relented and reached for her phone.

“Because I’m bored of sitting in lectures hearing you moan about how you can’t tell her how you feel because it would make it weird or how you don’t want to come across too intense!"

"We all had to listen to you pine after Vanjie for two and a half years but we never forced you into admitting anything,” Plastique shrugged, the room erupting into shrieks. Brooke gave a choke of a laugh, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her. She knew her face was bright red without having to look in a mirror and, as much as her brain was imploring her not to, she found her eyes darting quickly to Vanessa to catch a glimpse of her face.

Calm, smiling tight-lipped and smug. As if she’d won something.

“No, but you did start a sweepstake about us so get off the high horse, thanks!” Brooke sing-songed back, the slight hint of irritation to her voice letting Plastique know she was to drop it. Us. The word felt weird in Brooke’s mouth, it hadn’t been used in so long. Two and a half years. Had she really liked Vanessa for that long before everything had happened between them? Brooke had actually thrown away two and a half years of feelings for the sake of one feeling of indecision, a feeling that maybe they shouldn’t have been a they any more?

For Christ’s sake don’t look at Vanessa.

“Fine. I’ve put tonight’s really fun but I miss you, I always miss you when you’re not with me, hope you know how much I care about you. That heartfelt enough for you bitches?” Plastique muttered, embarrassed. Nina let out an “aaw”, Akeria made a sick noise.

“Acceptable,” Brooke shrugged, sipping on her beer again. Suddenly, a cheer went up from Akeria, Vanessa and Silky who could see who was coming through the living room door first. Yvie and Scarlet were walking close, holding a glass of red wine each and wearing matching poker faces.

“Oh, here they are! Nice of you to finally join us!” Nina cheered, Scarlet giving a small smile and smoothing her dress down, sitting beside Yvie on the last remaining couch.

“All the best people are fashionably late!” she shrugged. Yvie gave a snort and swept some hair over her shoulder to cover her neck. Brooke saw the action and jumped on it.

“Nice neckwear.”

Yvie turned only slightly red. “Thanks. Gucci.”

“Hear that? Yvie’s girlfriend is Gucci. Not Tesco Finest. Gucci,” Monet nudged Nina, setting another laugh off amongst the girls.

“We’re playing truth or dare,” Brooke explained to the two girls, as Plastique gave the glass bottle a bit of a pathetic spin.

“Vanjie!”

Vanessa shook her head. “Nah that spin was shit, it don’t count.”

“Like hell it don’t! Truth or dare, bitch?” Silky all but interrogated her. Vanessa thought about it for a moment, then decided.

“Truth.”

Brooke’ heart hammered in her chest. She hoped to God they wouldn’t ask Vanessa anything about her, anything about them.

“What’s going on with you and Monique, Vanjie?” Monet asked dramatically, Akeria giving a cry of delight and thumping her hands against her thighs.

Great.

As the room broke out into eager laughter, Vanessa just smiled.

“Well, Monique and I are good friends, and…we get on well. We both been, y'know, unlucky in love a lil’, so…” Vanessa trailed off, the room giving little chokes of anticipation and Brooke’s stomach twisting. “…if it’s one in the morning and one of us is maybe still up…y'know…”

Monet gave a tiny squeal through her teeth. Brooke wanted to wedge herself in between the sofa cushions and not emerge again til May of next year.

“Y'know, Monique’s very confident, very sure of herself, an’ that's…y'know, it’s attractive…” Vanessa trailed off, running her tongue over her teeth. Brooke knew that face, remembered the time when that face used to get directed at her before they’d fall into bed together, frantic kisses planted along collarbones and clothes discarded over the uneven floorboards of Vanessa’s room.

“But what’s actually going on? You’ve said so much but not actually said anything,” Yvie let out an unimpressed laugh. Vanessa composed herself and sat up straight, taking a rare sip of her drink.

“Well, we get on well. She’s a good person. And we’re friends,” Vanessa smiled coyly, causing the girls to laugh uproariously.

“Okay, okay, we all see it! We all get it!” Monet laughed, the knife twisting in Brooke’s stomach. Could it have been more obvious that they were obviously having each other in every type of position imaginable with any chance they got, or was it just Brooke being paranoid? She thought back to what Monet had said in the car earlier and concluded that, occasional hits of the bong aside, she was not being paranoid by any stretch of the imagination.

The game rolled along. Nina was made to do something vague and embarrassing with Monet that Brooke forgot quickly (or perhaps blocked out), Scarlet was forced to admit (rather proudly, Brooke thought) that her and Yvie had quickly fucked upstairs in the time they’d been away, and a few other of the girls did a couple of bland truths. As much as the bottle spun and spun, it never seemed to point Brooke’s way. Brooke was glad. She didn’t want to admit or say anything, and she also didn’t want to do anything remotely risky. However, when the bottle landed on Vanessa a second time, Brooke began to reconsider her thought process.

“Dare,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of danger in her eye flashing quickly as she darted her eyes quickly to Brooke.

Brooke tried not to look at Nina as she spoke. “Vanjie. Kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Plastique whispered quietly. It seemed as if the whole room held its breath. Brooke didn’t know if she was grateful to Nina for the setup or whether she wanted to descend into the earth’s core. She knew Vanessa had answered this question before with this group of girls, she knew that Vanessa thought the answer was her. But that was before everything had changed. Brooke felt her pulse race as Vanessa looked to the ceiling, deep in thought.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to Yvie and Scarlet.

“Yvie,” she began, a small sinking feeling lodging itself in Brooke’s chest. “Can I kiss your girlfriend?”

Yvie smiled at Scarlet proudly, happy for the compliment. “Dare’s a dare. Bring her back.”

“Scarlet, can I get a lil’ smooch?” Vanessa laughed, Scarlet laughing back and motioning for her to sit beside them on the sofa.

“C'mere, friend,” she laughed easily, Vanessa crossing the room and joining them. Brooke remembered when Vanessa had kissed Scarlet before- in the nightclub, before they were together and before Yvie and Scarlet were together. She remembered how it made her feel- a little irritated and sad all in one. Looking back, she realised it was plain and simple jealousy, and she knew her feelings weren’t going to change this time.

Quickly, Vanessa leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her gently but slowly, her hand resting on Scarlet’s hip easily. It could only have been about three seconds long, but each one seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly, and Brooke hoped she wasn’t showing any of her fucked-up emotions on her face. As the two girls pulled away and the others whooped and whistled, Scarlet made a face.

“Bitch, all I tasted there was pepperoni. That was the least sexy kiss I’ve ever had.”

“You loved it, hoe!” Vanessa laughed, retreating back to her seat. Desperate to look at anything but Vanessa’s face, Brooke watched Yvie and Scarlet. Yvie had the satisfied grin of a mafia mob boss as Scarlet whispered something in her ear, then smiled seductively, kissing her once, twice, three times, red lipstick meeting purple.

“Well if I wasn’t bi before, I sure as hell am now,” Plastique fanned herself.

“We are the cornerstone of Plastique’s sexual identity. That’s a fucking compliment!” Scarlet cheered, Yvie laughing and wrapping her arms around her.

“Nah, you and Yvie are my parents. The Mums of the group,” Plastique explained.

“Fuck off, we’re not the Mums!” Yvie laughed, outraged. “Nina and Monet are literally right there!”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Nina cried, outraged at the perceived injustice.

“Yeah, don’t lump me in with this dork!” Monet yelled, laughing with the other girls as Nina swatted her on the arm.

“Right! Spin, Vanj,” Yvie ordered, the girl spinning the bottle round obediently. Brooke watched as the top of the bottle whizzed by her once, twice, three times, past Yvie, Scarlet, the Antigua Road girls, slowed down as it reached Plastique, edged past Monet and Nina and then came to rest on Brooke.

“All RIGHT! About time this bitch spilt some tea,” Silky clapped in delight.

“Brooke,” Akeria said with the threat level of an MI5 employee. “Truth or dare?”

Brooke paused. Her go-to was usually a truth, however there was no way she was going for that this time, not while she was still a concrete mixer of feelings for Vanessa and not while there was a room full of people wanting to know exactly what was going on with them. She shrugged. “Dare.”

“Okay-” Akeria tailed off, making to stop and think. A practically evil smile spread across her face as realisation dawned on her. “Same dare. Kiss the hottest person in the room. Ten seconds.”

Silky let out a scream, growing so excitable on the sofa that Vanessa was almost sent through the ceiling. Scarlet whispered something to Yvie on the sofa, both of the girls looking at Brooke intently. Plastique shouted over something to Akeria that Brooke couldn’t hear. All she could focus on was how Vanessa had grabbed Silky and was laughing, but somewhat nervously. Her face had gone bright red. Brooke bit her lip. She thought back to their flirting in the cupboard earlier, how they were almost back to square one again, the weird bid Vanessa had made to make Brooke jealous. She could always kiss Yvie or Nina, take the easy way out. But the more she looked at Vanessa, the more drawn she became to her until before she knew what she was doing, Brooke had stood up from her place on the carpet and taken one, two, three steps to sit on the couch and look Vanessa in the eyes.

Brooke could hear everyone in the room screaming, and she knew Silky had run out of the room shouting incoherently, but all she seemed to hear was her blood roaring in her ears as Vanessa leaned in. Before she knew it, Brooke’s hand was resting on Vanessa’s bare thigh and they were kissing each other, slow and deep and lazy and in a way that Brooke never wanted to end. She felt Vanessa’s tongue licking at hers gently and immediately felt a throb of heat between her legs as she remembered 3ams spent between her sheets and Vanessa’s head buried between her thighs.

Christ, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea-

“ZERO! And y’all can officially cut that shit out,” Brooke suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Vanessa, Akeria’s voice cutting through her hazy thoughts and bringing her back down to earth with a bump.

“Well, I feel like on that note,” Monet clapped her hands together decisively. “I’m away out to drink in the hot tub. Anyone else?”

One by one the girls agreed, dashing out of the room excitedly, and it was obvious to Brooke that everyone would be talking about what had just happened. Vanessa had run off quickly, her hand in Silky’s as the two dashed upstairs to get their swimwear on. The only girl that was left in the room as Brooke made to do the same was Akeria. She frowned at Brooke as they both left the room, a warning in her eyes which sent a chill down Brooke’s spine. Trying to ignore it, Brooke dashed upstairs, changed into her pink bikini and then ran outside to join the others. They wouldn’t talk about her and Vanessa’s kiss if she was there, so the less time she was away the better. Brooke grabbed a third beer from the fridge on her way out to the garden, and as she stepped outside she noticed how the moon already hung huge and bright in the sky, how the grass already had a shine of cold wet on it, and how everything looked almost a little bit magic. Joining the others and sitting between Yvie and Plastique, she tried to ignore Vanessa sitting opposite her in a black bikini that looked equally sinful as the outfit she’d been wearing before. Luckily the rest of the girls had no further desire to play drinking games, and talk instead turned to movies. Brooke didn’t join in. She couldn’t- too much was swirling around her mind, namely how good the kiss had felt. Scarlet had probably lied to make Yvie laugh- Vanessa had tasted like sugary coke, and the all too familiar scent of her perfume was still inexplicably clinging to Brooke. It had been weird to kiss after months of no contact at all. It had been a bad decision. Brooke had done yet another wrong thing.

So why did it feel somehow correct?

“Right!” Akeria said after a while, almost toppling over as she stood up. “I think I’m gettin’ a touch of the hypothermias. Who’s comin’ inside to watch Sister Act?”

“Bitch! That’s like, my favourite movie. Hell yes,” Monet sprang up, knocking Nina off her lap and into the middle of the hot tub. The girls erupted in a laugh, Brooke almost dropping her beer into the water. One by one, they all filed out of the water. Brooke was the last one left. Admittedly she didn’t want to leave- she was now tipsy enough to not feel the cold, and she could have lain back and stared at the white light of the full moon in the inky sky forever. Just as she was about to follow the others, she noticed that the second-to-last girl out of the hot tub was Vanessa. Brooke swallowed thickly, trying her best not to stare at how the small droplets of water clung to her thick thighs or how her tiny bikini barely covered her firm ass, or how her slick, wet hair cascaded down her back. Almost as if she could read Brooke’s mind, Vanessa slowly, tortuously turned around. She had a little wicked smile on her face, the kind she always used to wear when she flirted with Brooke. It made Brooke cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together.

“You got a good enough view from there?” she asked, playfulness coating her words as she spread both her arms out to lean against the back of the hot tub.

This was bad. This was not good. Brooke couldn’t flirt back. It would only lead to another really horrendous, catastrophic decision. Her mind was hot-wiring, and to her dismay she couldn’t come up with any form of quick-witted comeback. Noticing how long it was taking her to reply, Vanessa gave a throaty laugh.

“Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she purred, crossing the water and sitting down close next to Brooke. Brooke tried her best not to choke as she took a sip from the bottle in her hand.

“Thought you were going to watch Sister Act?” she asked, trying to sound casual but cringing at how nervous she sounded as the words left her mouth. Her blood pressure dialled up a notch as Vanessa laced her fingers together, placed her hands on Brooke’s bare shoulder, then rested her head against her fingers.

“I don’t know. Think I’d rather see what’s so special about this view you love so much,” Vanessa murmured softly, Brooke not missing the way she rushed out the word ‘love’ as if to distil any awkwardness. She didn’t need to worry, though, because right now all Brooke could focus on was how good Vanessa looked in that black bikini, and how her red lipstick still clung to her plump lips as if it had just been applied, and her beautiful dark gaze from under her fake lashes.

“Hmm. It’s a pretty good view. Pretty beautiful,” Brooke found herself whispering, eliciting a sparkle from Vanessa’s eyes. Fuck. Shit. She shouldn’t have said that, it just seemed to have happened, but with Vanessa sitting pressed up so close to her how else could she have possibly reacted? There was a small silence in which Vanessa gave a small giggle, looking down at the constantly popping bubbles. The jet stream pummeled Brooke’s back to bits.

“What’s funny?” she smiled cautiously. Vanessa looked at her, something nostalgic on her face.

“Your pickup lines are still cringey as fuck,” she smirked, Brooke rolling her eyes a little. She had to steer this conversation back to normality. Whatever the fuck normality was as far as her and Vanessa were concerned.

“That wasn’t a pickup line. If I was trying to pick you up, you’d know about it.”

“Oh, I know about it, baby. Don’ worry,” Vanessa hit back instantly, Brooke taking the pet name like a fatal shot. Brooke knew that Vanessa knew what that word did to her in the right context with the right tone. Fuck. Bad idea, bad idea. She was determined not to lose whatever game this was. She would not do anything stupid. She would not ruin the tiny, small beginnings of this foundation of their friendship that they were gradually re-building. She would stand up and go inside and watch Whoopi fucking Goldberg dance about in a fucking habit and all would be right with the world again.

“Two and a half years, huh? You had it bad, bitch, I never knew I had that kind of effect on you,” Vanessa laughed suddenly, Brooke trying not to blush as she remembered Plastique’s words from earlier.

“Not that you’re letting it go to your head,” Brooke shrugged, taking a sip.

Vanessa giggled again. Brooke wished she wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good compliment for you, I guess.”

“Better than beaud,” Vanessa smirked, snorting a laugh as Brooke tipped her head back and cringed. As she quietly stopped laughing, Vanessa shrugged lightly. “An’ I mean, nice to know I’m the hottest girl in the room too.”

Brooke let out a small sigh at having to confront her decision. “I mean just because we’re not dating any more doesn’t mean it’s not objectively true. By Western beauty standards you probably are the hottest girl in the room.”

Vanessa laughed again. “Western beauty standards, my God. I’m not even white, you dumb bitch.”

“Yeah, but…you’ve got this gorgeous skin, and all your shiny hair. And your eyes that go all twinkly when you’re happy,” Brooke explained. Where was all this coming from? “And you have perfect white teeth, and the best smile. I feel like you light up the whole room when you laugh.”

Brooke’s heart gave a twinge as Vanessa’s face broke out into a smile, tilting her face to the side a little inquisitively. Brooke gave a little cough, aware of all the compliments she’d given her. “And you have a really good figure as well, so, yeah.”

“Oh, obviously. Well, we all know how much you like that,” Vanessa smirked cheekily, Brooke suddenly snapping her neck round to face her properly.

“What?”

“Liked that. Like, liked. Whatever. We’re friends now, we can laugh about it,” Vanessa shrugged, the words coming out of her mouth confirming their status at once relieving Brooke and putting her on edge. They were back to being friends. This was what Brooke wanted, right? Vanessa still had the little cheeky grin on her face as she spoke again. “Friends who still kiss each other, apparently.”

“Well, you kissed Scarlet,” Brooke said, trying to make it as nonchalant as possible. Judging by Vanessa’s smug reaction, she hadn’t succeeded.

“You seem pressed.”

“Not pressed! Just saying,” Brooke tried to protest gently but felt she came on way too heavy.

“Mhm. There’s just one problem about all this, though…” Vanessa murmured, her tone charged with something that immediately made the hairs on Brooke’s arm stand on end, giving her goosebumps.

And then, with one fluid movement, Vanessa moved to straddle her.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Brooke’s heart almost flatlined as Vanessa spoke, her face still wearing the tiniest cocky smile that Brooke so badly wanted to kiss off of her. “It’s kinda hard to try an’ be friends with you when I know what you look like with no clothes on.”

Brooke tried her best to keep her voice level. “Well, it’s also kind of hard to try and be friends with you when you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s also hard to be friends with you when I know what your kinks are…” Vanessa brought her arms around Brooke’s neck and barely concealed a smile as she bucked her hips ever so slightly. “…Mami.”

Brooke felt the tiniest hiss escape her lips, glad it wasn’t the fuck that had immediately popped into her head.

“It’s kind of hard to be friends with you when you’re riding my thigh…or when you’re coming on to me like this,” Brooke replied, keeping one hand firmly on the side of the hot tub and the other wrapped around the glass bottle in her hand so tight she thought it would smash.

“Coming on to you?” Vanessa suddenly tipped her head back and laughed, Brooke immediately realising what she’d said. “That can be arranged, you want face, tongue or fingers?”

“Fuck’s sake, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly, letting one of her hands drop down under the water and rest against Vanessa’s thigh. As Brooke’s thumb rubbed at her skin softly, she tried to reason with herself. Just because she was stroking Vanessa’s skin, and had her on top of her, and was basically talking dirty to her, didn’t mean that anything was actually going to happen.

“I know you miss me, Brooke,” Vanessa said, her tone matter-of-fact as she straightened up a little in Brooke’s lap, Brooke eyeing the way her breasts were pushed up.

Brooke had to think carefully about her response. She knew she’d hurt Vanessa, so she had to keep things light. “I mean, it kind of looks like you miss me, baby.”

Oh fuck, that pet name was a mistake. Vanessa’s smile was sultry as she pushed one of her hands into Brooke’s hair. “Me? Nah, I’m just doin’ this because it’s fun. Monique’s treatin’ me very well.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Vanessa knew how to hit Brooke where it hurt. Brooke pursed her lips. She wanted to fight dirty, she would give as good as she got. “And that’s why you’re cheating on her?”

Vanessa burst out laughing. “Oh, bitch, please! Me and her aren’t exclusive! We ain’t even a thing! She vents to me about her ex, I vent to her about you, and then we fuck away our frustrations!”

A part of Brooke’s heart soared up into the black sky like a helium balloon. She didn’t think she’d shown her relief on her face until Vanessa gave a laugh. “So. You ain’t denied it.”

“Denied what?”

“That you miss me,” she shrugged, giving a little look down at Brooke’s hands on her thighs. Brooke couldn’t pinpoint when she’d brought the other one down under the water but apparently she had done. Her throat was dry as she considered her response. Before she could get there, Vanessa threw her mind into chaos as she brought her hands back behind her head, fidgeted for a moment, then suddenly threw her bikini top across the decking. As Brooke’s gaze flicked down to Vanessa’s full breasts, the other girl brought one finger up and tilted her chin up to face her. The heat between Brooke’s legs was unbearable, and she felt her paper-thin resolve rapidly melting away. Vanessa smirked. “You wanna kiss me so bad right now, don’t you? Like you kissed me earlier. You can’t even stay away.“

Vanessa seemed to edge closer to Brooke, although they were already so close that seemed an impossible feat. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “See, I feel like if Monique fucked you as good as you say she does, you wouldn’t be in my lap right now.”

Vanessa blinked slowly, mockingly. “Oh, baby. You don’t want to know the things I let her do to me.”

Brooke bristled. The tension between them and Vanessa’s teasing was getting her riled. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Aww. You jealous, baby?” Vanessa pouted. This was going to drive Brooke insane. Her mind constantly swung between this being a bad idea and a good idea, and she had no idea which it would settle on.

Brooke locked eyes with Vanessa, the other girl’s gaze a challenge. “No.”

“You sure? You seemed jealous when I kissed Scarlet earlier, I saw your face.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Brooke repeated, holding her gaze with Vanessa. Their faces weren’t too close but their bodies were, and Brooke felt as if she was a ticking time bomb.

“So you ain’t jealous of Monique?” Vanessa murmured inquisitively. Brooke shook her head, now unable to tear her gaze away from her lips which had felt so perfect against her own earlier. “You ain’t jealous of the fact she gets to ride my face and get my pretty lil’ tongue working her clit? You ain’t jealous of the fact that it’s her name I’m crying out when I cum on her fingers? You ain’t-”

Frustrated, tense, and out of willpower, Brooke let out a low growl as she finally brought her hands up to Vanessa’s jaw and crashed their lips together, kissing her wildly and deeply and running her hands over every inch of Vanessa’s skin she was able to touch. She didn’t even care that she’d proven Vanessa right, because she had missed this, missed her, missed the way they just seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and dear sweet fucking Jesus she’d been an idiot to give up this sex. Brooke whined needily as she felt Vanessa pull away, the other girl laughing against her lips.

“You don’t kiss like a girl who ain’t jealous,” Vanessa tutted, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Or one that don’t miss me.”

Brooke ran her hands up and down her back and pouted. “Shut up.”

“Hmm. That ain’t no way to talk to me if you’re planning on getting what you want, lil’ brat,” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, bringing one of her hands down to rub at Brooke’s hipbone. Brooke let out a whimper and bucked her hips. She needed Vanessa so badly, and her words were only making things worse. Or better.

“Fuck, please, Vanessa, shit,” Brooke hissed, not caring about how pathetic and needy she looked now as she brought one of her hands up and rubbed a thumb over one of Vanessa’s nipples. Brooke felt her clit throb as Vanessa gave a little hum of delight at the contact. Her fingers had only been there for a second before Vanessa grabbed her wrist and held it down under the water, the sudden force causing Brooke’s eyes to grow wide.

“You broke my fuckin’ heart an’ now you really think I’m gonna make it that easy for you?” she barked a laugh, a guilty twinge tugging at Brooke’s rapid heart. “Fuck that. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna have to work for me, baby. Shit’s on my terms.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, I really don’t give a shit how desperate I sound,” Brooke sighed, the shock of the prospect of Vanessa changing her mind about all this lighting a fire in Brooke. “Please, please, please, please, baby, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want, just fucking touch me, please-”

Brooke cut herself off with her own moan as Vanessa ran a hand down her body and lightly pressed two fingers against her, rubbing gently and making Brooke want to sob.

“Good girl,” Vanessa purred, Brooke writhing underneath her and completely past the point of thinking about any of the consequences of any of this. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Fuck, so much.”

“You been missin’ this?”

“Shit yes, so much.”

Vanessa’s eyes were dark as Brooke looked up at her. “Nobody’s gonna fuck you like me, are they?”

Brooke’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, thinking that at this point if Vanessa asked her to get married she probably would’ve booked the damn venue. “No, only you, baby, fuck.”

“Mm, such a good girl,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke’s clit giving a spasm as she thought now was really not the time to realise she had a praise kink. “I don’t know, though. You seemed pretty sure you wouldn’t miss me when you ended things.”

“I do miss you, 'Ness, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll beg on my knees if you want me to, I don’t give a fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night…so fucking perfect, shit…"

"Mm…you would look so pretty on your knees,” Vanessa leaned in and murmured into Brooke’s ear, pressing the lightest little kiss to her neck and almost sending Brooke over the edge before anything had even happened yet.

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby, fuck, I want you to feel like you’re the most gorgeous fucking goddess in the world,” Brooke gasped as Vanessa brought her other hand down to touch herself, the sight of her working Brooke and herself into a frenzy the hottest thing she’d seen in months. Her mind short-circuited, and she struggled to know if anything she said made any sense. “Jesus Christ, Vanessa, please fuck me, I can’t take much more-"

Pride glinted in Vanessa’s eyes before she leaned in and kissed Brooke, hot and wet with her fingers still rubbing and teasing her through the material. Pulling away, she motioned to the decking around the hot tub. “Lie back then, baby.”

As Brooke almost drove her face into the decking in her haste to scramble out of the hot tub she ignored the little voice in the back of her head that told her everything about this was a bad idea, and instead focused on the one that screamed it was the best decision she’d made in months.s

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chalantness · 4 years ago

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fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (4/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~13,400 (part four) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK THREE WEEKS TO POST! There are about a dozen reasons why it got delayed but none of them are all that compelling or dramatic, but here it is now and I hope it's at least half-worth the long wait? Also, for those who didn't catch my progress updates, I'm going to keep the chapter count at 6 and these last chapters (this one included) will be longer.

“I know you aren’t nearly as chatty as Tony or Peter, but I’m starting to feel offended by how quiet you’ve been today.”

Natasha turns to find her Aunt Maria watching her, her eyes glinting as she sets a fork back down on the table arranged with plate settings. To her credit, the woman hadn’t acted the least bit surprised when Natasha asked if she needed help planning next month’s Stark Industries gala, even though Natasha had never shown much interest in her aunt’s role as an event planner before. And yes, her aunt could’ve had someone take over for her decades ago, but the woman loves it too much to give it up anytime soon.

Natasha gives a small smile and a shrug that she knows her aunt will take as an apology, and the woman exhales a laugh. “You think I would’ve learned by now that waiting for you Starks to offer up your problems is a lost cause,” Aunt Maria comments dryly.

“You’re a Stark, too, you know,” Natasha points out.

“By marriage, darling. I don’t have the same stubborn gene as the rest of you, no matter how much your uncle and cousin like to claim otherwise.” Natasha’s smile widens as she shakes her head, and her aunt comes to stand in front of her, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of Natasha’s hair behind her ear. “If you were my son, I’d have to ask thirty questions before he ran out of witty remarks and finally confessed,” she adds, “but my much more sensible niece wouldn’t put me through that game, would she?”

“No, she’ll just keep her confessions to herself,” Natasha retorts, though her voice doesn’t sound as nonchalant as she’d intended.

She knows that her aunt notices it as well because her eyes twinkle. “Does this have anything to do with you spending all of your time with Steve Rogers these days?”

Despite herself, Natasha breathes out a laugh. She’s not particularly surprised that her aunt latches onto this of all things, but she’ll admit that it’s a nice change in pace from having to talk about “Sarah Rogers” or theories on who the hell drove a car through the front of the club.

“Does that seem like something your niece would ever be distracted with?” Natasha asks.

Aunt Maria shrugs as she admits, “I didn’t think you could be distracted at all. Even as a toddler, you were so focused. It was a little unsettling for your parents.”

This makes Natasha pause. “They’ve never told me that.”

“Most children don’t know much about their parents in that sense,” her aunt points out as she perches herself on one of the many sample chairs artfully draped in chiffon and ribbons, patting the seat beside hers for Natasha to follow. “We tell you fun stories and we tell you about what you were like growing up, but we don’t necessarily tell you all the little things we had to learn, or how worried we were every hour of the day. Your parents were much better at hiding it than Howard and I, but they were no exception.”

Natasha exhales a chuckle. “Honestly, it’s hard to picture my parents with a child at all, even if that child was me.”

It’s not the first time the thought has crossed her mind, though she’ll admit she doesn’t really know where the sentiment comes from. She’s never once felt as if her parents regret having her, or would choose any differently if they could. She knows they love her and she’s never once doubted that. Seeing her mother in that photo with Joseph Rogers had been shocking, but it also felt a little bit like something had finally clicked into place. At least now she understood why something always felt off about their story.

It wasn’t something that was brought up much to begin with, but considering the circumstance as to why, Natasha hadn’t felt it was suspicious. The only reason her father and Uncle Howard had gone to Europe to begin with had been because her aunt and uncle were having problems with their marriage, though they’d never shared what the fighting had been about, nor had they really shared why the brothers had stayed on another continent for an entire year before Uncle Howard came back to sort things out with Aunt Maria. All Natasha knows is that her parents had met early into this trip and had Natasha overseas, and they’d gotten married only days after her father brought her mother back to the States with him. Natasha and Tony had always found the whole story odd, but they didn’t have any real reason not to believe what their parents told them, either.

“It was certainly a surprise when your father came home with you and your mother,” Aunt Maria says, and Natasha turns just in time to catch something flicker in her aunt’s eyes—amusement, maybe, though it’d been far too quick to tell. “He’s never been impulsive.”

“Neither has Mom,” Natasha points out. “And yet, she met Dad, had me, and moved to an entirely different country within the same year.”

“Your uncle likes to take credit for having that one influence over your father in that sense.” Her aunt smooths a hand over Natasha’s hair, her smile softening. “I know it seems like that year is something we want to forget, but without your uncle and your father taking that trip, we wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t want things to be any different.”

Natasha gives her a small grin. “That’s because you and Uncle Howard like to pretend that I’m your daughter,” she teases, tilting her head as she adds, “though Uncle Howard definitely fusses over me as if that were true. Maybe even more so than my actual father.”

There’s a pause before Aunt Maria asks, “Does that bother you?”

Natasha shakes her head. “He’s been that way my entire life, Aunt Maria. If it bothered me, I would’ve said something by now.”

“But something is bothering you?” her aunt asks, and Natasha almost smiles at the tone of her voice. It’s one that she’s heard Aunt Maria use with Tony all his life; one that says she already knows the answer is yes and is expecting an explanation instead.

Natasha hesitates. She knows that Aunt Maria is willing to keep a secret for her if she asks, but her aunt would draw the line at staying quiet about Natasha potentially having a stalker, especially after what happened at the club. Honestly, Natasha is very well aware the two could be related, and then there’s also the possibility that “Sarah Rogers” may be tied to everything as well, but she’d rather have more to go off of before worrying the family. As soon as they know, they’ll be even less willing to let her out of their sight, and she’ll need as much time without one of them hovering over her shoulder as she can manage to find so she and Steve can look into her their parents’ connection.

And no, she doesn’t even consider asking about that, either. She’s almost certain that her aunt and uncle have already known about it, and if they’ve all been intent on keeping quiet about it, Natasha knows that her aunt will tell her parents as soon as she suspects Natasha may have found something out.

Still, there’s one thing her aunt may be willing to keep a secret; and if not, Natasha won’t mind if her uncle hears about it.

“I still find it a little odd that Uncle Howard would ask me to look after Steve,” Natasha admits with a slight shake of her head, because yes, that is still something that crosses her mind despite everything else she has going on. Or maybe even because of all of it. “I know that he and Joseph are close and that’s a big part of why he asked me to reach out, but he’s always been a little overprotective of me, too. I guess I still find it strange that he’d want me around Steve when he knew there would be a lot of heat on him.”

Aunt Maria gives her a little grin that almost looks amused. “If anything, I think you might have been safest with Steve. His two friends are cops, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but Uncle Howard has never trusted cops,” Natasha points out.

“And yet he’s relieved that Steve’s friends have been there for Wanda ever since that drive-by,” her aunt says, and Natasha feels herself pause, surprised. “Joseph Rogers is someone very few would dare to threaten and he’s still missing,” Aunt Maria reminds gently. “Things are changing, darling. Your uncle just wants to keep you safe.”

Natasha holds her aunt’s stare, feeling her chest tighten ever so slightly. “Because I’m in danger?”

Aunt Maria hums, giving Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze. “Because he loves you,” she answers simply as she stands, turning away. And Natasha knows that, at least for now, that’s all her aunt is willing to share.

... ...

Steve is more than used to watching his sister flit around his kitchen, but seeing his best friend standing beside her, barely fighting off a smile as Wanda walks him through a recipe for vinaigrette dressing, is certainly a sight Steve couldn’t have anticipated a week ago. Before seeing it for himself, though, Steve knew that the two of them would’ve gotten close. He knows his sister, and he knows there’s no way Wanda would’ve let Bucky and Sam watch over her without wanting to form a genuine friendship with them.

Although, it’s starting to become clear that Bucky and Wanda are far more comfortable with each other than Steve first thought.

“You keep making faces like that and those lines will stay that way,” a voice teases, pulling a grin from his lips as he turns to look at Natasha perched on the barstool beside his. Her eyes are twinkling, her cheeks flushed from the almost empty glass of prosecco in her hand and her hair a little wild from being let out of the braid she’d had it in.

Beautiful.

It was the first thought to cross his mind the moment he saw her, and it’s the same thought that’s lingered in his head ever since. Sometimes it still catches him off guard, just how stunning Natasha is. Yes, part of it is because she’s almost always put together, but even then, that doesn’t mean much. She was still every bit as beautiful when he saw her first thing in the morning after she’d spent the night, sweetly rumpled and a little disheveled in Wanda’s pajamas; just as she was every bit as beautiful when he bumped into her and Maria on their morning run, her hair wild and windblown and her skin flushed from the exertion. He knows Natasha puts on appearances in the same way they all need to most of the time, and Natasha can definitely be a lot harder to read when she wants to. Still, Steve knows that most of her beauty is because she’s effortlessly herself.

She laughs at her own jokes, and runs around with the kids during parties, and doesn’t give a damn about polishing off two cocktails before they’ve even ordered dinner.

He doesn’t think he’s seen every part of her just yet, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen most, just as he’s pretty sure he’s seen a hell of a lot more than she’s ever show someone who wasn’t her family.

He knows that when she lets him see every last part of her, he’ll be a goner. He’s more than halfway there, anyway.

“I’m not making faces,” he retorts, feeling his grin widen ever so slightly.

She arches an eyebrow, pressing her lips together and not quite trying to fight off a grin of her own. “Really?” Her voice is soft as she tips her wine glass to point at Bucky and Wanda, the two of them too distracted by each other to notice him and Nat. “So that doesn’t make you uncomfortable? Your best friend and your little sister?”

“If anyone would be good enough for my little sister, it would be my best friend,” he retorts.

“He watches her very carefully.” Her green eyes are bright and glinting playfully, almost giddily. Fucking beautiful. Even in his own thoughts, he’s breathless. “I’m sure they spend a lot of quality time together.”

“Nat,” he says, though it’s nowhere near a warning.

“Everyone falls for their bodyguard.”

“Nat.” He laughs as he shakes his head, something warm humming in his veins.

Natasha sits up straighter, taking a nonchalant sip of her wine, but the amusement just under her playfully composed expression gives her away. “Still not uncomfortable?”

He lets his eyes fall to her lips, and unlike every other time when he’d stolen a glance, he lets his gaze lingers. They part ever so slightly, and he can practically hear the soft, quick way she inhales. He knows she’s holding her breath, just like him, even though nothing about her body so much as shifts an inch to give it away. “Not exactly the word I’d use,” he murmurs, his voice coming out rough, even to his own ears, and he lets his gaze slide back up to her eyes. He can practically count every one of her eyelashes.

And then the doorbell rings.

For a fleeting moment, he Steve a genuine look of annoyance tug at Natasha’s expression, and his grin turns wry as he slides off of the stool. “Got it,” he announces to Bucky and Wanda, his gaze lingering on Natasha as she takes a gulp of her wine. He nearly chuckles as he shakes his head, walking out of the kitchen.

He’d known that Wanda and Bucky invited Sam to dinner, so Steve isn’t surprised to see him.

He’s a little more surprised to see Maria, though.

“Fine,” Maria says, her voice sounding almost resigned even as genuine amusement flickers in her expression as Sam turns to smirk at her. “We should’ve recorded his face.”

Despite his confusion, Steve chuckles. “Good to see you, too, Hill.” Maria only hums in response, but her grin widens, her eyes bright and almost playful as she glances back at Sam—and, really, Steve shouldn’t expect any less at this point. He gestures between the two of them as he asks, “Did you need a bodyguard, too?”

“He asked, but he couldn’t afford me,” Maria quips dryly, stepping inside, and she gives Steve’s forearm a quick squeeze in greeting as she passes him.

Sam steps in, too, his gaze lingering on Maria as Steve shuts the front door before turning to him, his mouth hitched at one corner. “We bumped into each other when I was leaving a witness’s place,” he explains, and though Steve knows that the spark in his best friend’s eyes is certainly nothing new whenever he talks about Maria Hill—admiration only thinly-veiled with annoyance—the amused smirk on his lips is definitely a first. Steve has always known there more to the way Maria had gotten under Sam’s skin over the years, that it wasn’t just a detective annoyed by the thorough efforts of a private investigator and her uncanny knack for constantly crossing his path both on and off duty.

He never really anticipated that Sam would ever act on it, though. Every cop in the city knows who the Families are, and Sam would’ve never risked a job he loved so much for a woman that came from the world the police is trying to shut down.

But that world is now Steve’s world, too, and that made a difference to Sam. That gave him a reason to look closer, or maybe it gave him a reason to finally make a move.

Steve knows the feeling.

His grin widens as he comes up next to Sam, patting his shoulder, and, because his best friend can read the amusement in Steve’s expression, Sam shakes his head. “It’s just dinner,” he says. Steve’s grin shifts into a smirk and Sam breathes out a chuckle. “Oh, it’s like that now?”

“It’s like that now,” Steve replies with a chuckle of his own, letting his hand drop as they both head into the kitchen.

Maria is sitting in the barstool beside Nat that he’d just occupied, a glass of wine already in hand, and Natasha glances over her shoulder as he and Sam join them at the kitchen island. He doesn’t know quite what compels him to come up right behind her, but he does, letting his hands find the curve of her hips, and she lets him pull her back just a little so that she’s resting against his chest. She’d refilled her own wine, too, and she takes a sip from it, glancing up at him as her tongue sweeps over her lower lip.

“Uncomfortable?” she mouths, and he gives her a gentle squeeze that makes her laugh softly against the rim of her glass.

“Where’s your other half?” Sam asks Wanda, and Steve catches the way his sister hesitates for less than a second, almost glances over her shoulder at Bucky.

“Working,” Wanda replies, angling a teasingly sly sort of smile at Sam, and there’s not an ounce of apprehension or wariness from Sam as he nods. Her eyes sparkle as she uses the wooden spoon that she’d been mixing the salad with to gesture between him and Maria, asking, “When did this become a thing?”

Steve half-expects Maria to reply with a denial of some sort, but instead, she answers almost nonchalantly, “We’ve been teaming up on a few things.”

“Figured we’d have all our bases covered between the two of us, illegal or otherwise,” Sam adds, his expression turning a little wry at the corners. “We’re looking into who might’ve been following you the day of the drive-by,” he explains, and then, turning to Natasha, he adds, “and who’s been sending those pictures of you.”

Steve pauses, feeling Natasha sit up just a little straighter against his chest. “Pictures?” Steve asks, tilting his head to look at Nat. “What pictures?”

Something too quick to catch passes through Natasha’s expression as she looks up at him and it makes his chest tighten, hard.

Instead of Natasha, though, it’s Wanda who speaks up next, drawing everyone’s attention on her, and that pressure on Steve’s lungs seems to compound as he sees his sister’s entire body stiff with tension. “You got one, too?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as Bucky cups a hand over the back of her neck, giving a comforting sort of squeeze as his thumb rubs over her pulse. Wanda eases, but only a little, and when Steve glances at Sam and Maria, neither of them looks as surprised as Steve feels.

“When did you get yours?” Maria questions.

Steve is seconds away from asking why the hell he seems to be the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on, but then Wanda is pulling her phone out of her apron pocket and swiping at the screen before setting it faced up on the island and sliding it over. A picture of Natasha is on the screen, sent from a blocked number last night.

It’s taken from a distance and at an angle, and it’s pretty damn obvious that Natasha wasn’t aware of a camera being pointed at her.

That low, warm hum in his veins has turned to a frantic sort of buzz, and he can his every muscle going taut. “What is this?” he asks, so low that he half-wonders if anyone other than Natasha had been able to hear him, and something akin to guilt flickers in Natasha’s eyes.

Fuck. Fuck.

He flexes his fingers at her hips because he’s dangerously close to squeezing too tight. He doesn’t think he’s capable of feeling any more tense than he already is, but then Maria says, “Someone has been watching Nat for the last few days and I’m almost certain it has something to do with the ‘Sarah Rogers’ from the coffeehouse.”

The complete surprise he feels is mirrored in Natasha’s expression as she nearly slams the wine glass down, head snapping around to stare at Maria. It’s clear that the latter had been news to her, too, and she almost starts to ask a question when Steve yanks his hands from her hips. She whirls back around to face him, and the fleeting look of hurt that flashes in her eyes is what stops him from taking a step back from her. She’s upset and it kills him, but at the same time, he’s pissed. He knows Natasha can be a bit secretive, and he knows she’s used to doing things on her own most of the time. He’s not pissed that she might have needed a day or two to process whatever the hell this is.

But Maria said it’d been days, and she’d clearly been in on it, too. Even if Natasha didn’t know Maria hadn’t also involved Sam, she still kept it from Steve.

He’s seen her every day for almost a week and she never told him any of this. Not even a hint.

And if that in itself wasn’t enough of a reason to be pissed, there’s also the fact that Maria is tossing his mother’s name into the same conversation as someone who’s been watching Natasha.

He stares down at her, fingers twitching at his sides. Oddly enough, he hands to touch her again, wants his hands back on her hips and wants her pulled right against his chest. And no, he’s not so pissed at her as he is at the situation at hand. Someone is following her and she didn’t tell him.

She doesn’t need his protection, but she also knows that he’d give it to her without question or hesitation. She already has it, has him, in the palm of her hand.

“I wanted to be certain first,” Natasha tells him, facing him completely, and even though everyone else is only a foot or two away from them, all he sees is Natasha.

“Sounds like this is the first you’re hearing Maria’s theory, so try again,” he counters.

She narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “Don’t be patronizing,” Natasha warns, the first flickers of her own anger simmering in her expression at his tone. “I wasn’t going to throw around your mother’s name over something that could have very well been a coincidence.”

“You don’t believe in coincidences,” he argues, hands sliding over her hips again, rubbing his thumbs into her skin as if attempting to ease the climbing tension in her body even though he’s the damn reason for it, just as she’s the reason for his. He feels as if he’s trembling, he’s so pissed. But she doesn’t flinch away from his touch, not once.

“I was being careful,” Natasha insists. “I noticed the name on a receipt by pure chance, and we only just found something that could be a lead. I was handling it first.”

“Like you’re handling your mother?” Steve fires back, and he watches her inhale sharply. He hates that he’s the reason for it, but he has to know. “Would you have told me about that if you’d found out on your own, just because my dad is missing? You’d still risk being around your mother, knowing she was lying, without telling me anything?”

Her voice trembles ever so slightly. “She’s my mother.”

“Exactly.” His gives her another gentle squeeze. “It would’ve surprised me, and yeah, it probably would’ve upset me. But I’d want to know, no matter what. Even if it was the most illogical, inconceivable fucking theory ever, I would’ve wanted to know. I would’ve trusted you and what you had to say about it, even if you thought you were wrong.”

Natasha swallows lightly, lips parting, but the chime of phone cuts off whatever she’d been about to say, the sound almost jarring in the tense quiet of the kitchen.

Steve almost considers not looking at all, but his eyes flit over to Wanda’s phone on the counter, still close enough to read the text message from Clint—and, when his entire body goes stiff and cold, he’s vaguely aware of Natasha reaching up to touch his cheek as he reads the words over and over and over again in his head.

Ambushed. Pietro got hit. Get here now.

... ...

Ironically enough, Natasha has never spent much time in hospitals. No one in the Family does, or they try their damn hardest not to.

She goes a few times a year for check-ins here or there, just like anyone else would, but anything serious – anything that could lead to too many questions and to the cops possibly being tipped off – are handled discreetly. The Families have their own doctors that they pay a pretty penny to make sure they make themselves available as needed, and the Families provided all the equipment and supplies they’d need, too—so the fact that Pietro was rushed straight to the ER means that it looked serious enough that Clint wasn’t taking any chances or wasting any time. The silver lining is that, because the Families are so infamous in this city, the staff didn’t hesitate to make Pietro their priority.

The hospital also ushered them into a separate corner of the ER to wait, and though it isn’t exactly a private room, it’s as close as they can get. Natasha doubts it would’ve bothered Steve at all if they had to wait with everyone else, and it’s probably for the hospital’s benefit, too, to keep them being here as quiet as possible. Still, Steve manages a small smile to the nurse that offers the space to them and thanks her after she promises to personally check in with them every half hour and give them updates on Pietro.

“He took a shot aimed at me,” Clint had explained when they first got to the ER. “One of our guys was just a second too late with disarming him.”

Clint hasn’t said a word since, other than when he’d stepped aside to take a quick phone call from Laura, but Natasha hadn’t anticipated any differently. The noises of the hospital filter in, but otherwise, the only thing to fill the quiet of the room is Wanda’s occasional whimper or shuddering inhale. She hadn’t even wanted to sit down at first, but at the first sway in her steps, Bucky had pulled her onto his lap and kept a gentle but firm grip on her when she tried to stand back up, and her resolve crumbled in seconds.

Steve, however, has yet to sit down. He’s stayed standing right next to Natasha’s chair in the corner, his body taut, though not in the same way it’d been when they were arguing in his kitchen just hours ago. Then, she could feel the frustration just under skin, threatening to burst.

Now, though, he’s almost entirely still, his body facing the door and his arms crossed over his chest as he leans one shoulder against the wall. She’d only attempted to get him to sit once with a gentle tug on his forearm, but when he’d given her the ghosts of a smile and the barest shake of his head, she knew to let him be. He wants to be alert, and with his gaze always aimed toward the door, he’d been in front of the nurse within seconds of her walking into the room in the handful of times she’s checked with them so far.

He almost does so right now, though this time, it’s Maria that steps into the room. She and Sam had stayed to clean up the kitchen while the rest of them went to the ER, and after that, she’d texted Nat to let her know that the two of them were heading to the scene so Sam could talk to the officers that responded to the shooting. The only other thing that Sam learned was that an Asgard car was seen nearby, driving away as the officers headed there, though it couldn’t be determined just yet if that was a coincidence.

It’s almost ridiculous to consider that idea, but that conversation can wait for now.

Natasha stands as Steve leans off of the wall, his hand curving over her hip and drawing her close, and, despite everything, Natasha almost smiles. Their argument from earlier is far from being resolved and they both know it, yet he doesn’t hesitate to seek her presence, to need her comfort.

“We’ve got every eye in the city squeezing out the shooters, and Sam’s got every cop in Manhattan on the lookout, too,” Maria informs as she comes to stand beside them. She glances at Wanda, her expression softening as she adds, “and the Families are on their way,” and Wanda nods once, turning to press her face into Bucky’s shoulder as she burrows herself against him as close as physically possible. Bucky wraps his arms around her again, tucking her head under his chin as he murmurs something into her hair.

Wanda has always been far softer than the rest of them, but she’s still her father’s daughter. She was still born and raised in the Family, and just because she always has a sweet smile on her lips doesn’t make her any weaker or less dangerous. Honestly, Natasha is pretty damn sure she’s the strongest of them all.

Seeing her this shaken up is more than just unsettling, and the fact that the Families are getting together to be here for Pietro is no small thing, either.

Steve nods once, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the screen. “Seems like they’re already starting to arrive,” he says, showing a text from Nick, and he gives Natasha’s hip a gentle squeeze. “I’ll meet them outside. I should get some air, anyway.”

Natasha peers up at him. “Do you want some company?”

He gives her the softest sort of smile. “Yes,” he admits quietly, but he’s also shaking his head, leaning in to whisper, “but can you stay here?” His eyes flicker to Wanda for a moment, his careful, collected expression cracking at the edges, and Natasha knows what he’s really asking. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Bucky or Clint or even Maria to be there for his sister, but if he has to leave her side, even if only for a few minutes, he’d prefer Natasha stay behind in his place, to know to comfort Wanda the way he would.

“Of course,” she tells him, and she feels his lips curve against her skin, his smile growing just a fraction as he brushes a kiss to her cheek.

Then he steps away, giving Maria’s arm a gentle squeeze as he passes her, and Maria watches him go for a moment before turning back to Natasha. “I didn’t think Sam would mention something right away,” she tells her. It’s not an apology, necessarily, but that’s because she knows Natasha wouldn’t want one from her. She doesn’t blame Maria for her fight with Steve, nor does she blame Steve or herself, really. It’d been unfortunate for him to find out something so serious the way he had, especially since she knew that it would be worse to hide it at all. She hadn’t meant to wait for so long, and Steve he didn’t bring up her mother simply because he was pissed and trying to get back at her.

“I know,” Natasha says simply, her mouth hitching at the corner, and Maria gives her a small smile in return. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position to begin with.”

Maria’s smile widens just a little, and for a moment, Natasha thinks she might have some witty retort, maybe even a teasing line. But, when the moment passes, her expression fades altogether as she presses her lips into a tight line.

And, because Natasha knows her best friend, she knows what that carefully composed look means. “You found something out,” Natasha says.

Maria nods. “My father found out that I was looking into Sarah Rogers, but when he approached me about it, he’d already assumed it was Steve’s mother that I was looking into. He thought that I was just looking into Joseph again, like he’d asked me and Carol to do when he first went missing, and Dad said—” She stops herself, and, maybe for the first time that Natasha can remember, Maria looks hesitant, but she continues on. “He’d told me that when Joseph Rogers moved to the States, he’d scrubbed his past.”

Natasha feels her entire body stiffen, feels her breath hitch in her chest. At the corner of her gaze, she watches Wanda sit up, her cheeks still wet with tears as she furrows her at Maria in question.

“Scrubbed?” Natasha echoes. “When was this?”

“He was thirteen when he moved here, and he was adopted, but there are no records of that, either.” The surprise clear as day in Maria’s voice as she turns to Wanda. The girl looks just as stunned as the both of them, glancing between her and Natasha as the hand that’s holding onto Bucky’s shirt tightens. It’s clear that this is news to her, too.

Thirteen.

Natasha’s mind flickering back to the photograph of her mother and Joseph Rogers, the two of them clearly young. As soon as she’d seen them, she thought they would’ve barely been in high school, if even that.

Joseph Rogers had been adopted. He’d moved to the United States, and he’d known her mother before that happened. No one mentioned anything about Joseph being with her Uncle Howard and her father on that year-long trip across Europe, but Uncle Howard has known Joseph Rogers since high school. He had to have known Joseph Rogers wasn’t born into the most notorious Family in New York. In fact, every Family had to have known about his adoption the moment Joseph Rogers had come into the picture.

“There’s something else,” Maria adds, and the tone of her voice makes Natasha’s chest tighten as she glances at Wanda.

... ...

He was lucky, the doctor told them. If Pietro had been a second slower, he might not have even made it to the hospital in time. Those words alone had been enough to make Steve feel pretty damn lightheaded, but the fact that his brother is fine, that he’s expected to make a full recovery, keeps Steve from swaying on his feet.

Wanda’s eyelashes flutter shut as she exhales slowly, leaning into Steve’s chest as a shiver rolls down her spine, and Steve tucks her in close as he brushes a kiss to her hair. He catches Natasha’s gaze over Wanda’s head, his fingers twitching to pull her in, too, but they both know that he won’t. Not right now, when they haven’t even talked about what this is, and especially not with the rest of the Family in the same room. He doesn’t think she’d push him away, but he doesn’t want anyone asking questions right now.

He’s got enough to deal with as it is.

And he’s glad that Howard, Nick, and Odin are standing with him to actually catch whatever the hell the doctor is saying about the operation itself, because Steve can barely catch his breath, let alone understand more than a few words at a time. But that’s why they’re there, why everyone in the Family has been here the entire time that Pietro’s been in surgery, to let Steve and Wanda deal with coping while they take care of everything else. That’s one thing about the Families that still surprised Steve from time to time—just how much of a family they truly are. Steve hasn’t spoken with Odin nearly as often as he has with Howard and Nick, but he’d still come with Frigga and everyone else in tow, and even if it’s just to save face with Howard and Nick, Steve appreciates it nonetheless. Almost half of the men searching the streets right now answer to him.

And even though his sister clearly has an issue with Steve, and his brother isn’t nearly as welcoming, Steve isn’t all that surprised that Thor and his wife, Sif, have been hovering nearby all night long. Like with Odin, Steve has only spoken with Thor a handful of times, but the man is hard not to like. He seems to take after Frigga more than Odin, and he’d gotten a smile out of Wanda and eased some of the weight pressing on Steve’s chest for a short while without completely disregarding the mood altogether.

Steve glances across the room, his gaze falling on where Hela has been sitting the whole night.

She’d kept to herself, barely glancing in Steve’s direction when their family first arrived, and she’d hung back with Loki when Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Sif had come to talk to Steve and Wanda. He supposes that’s as close to civil as she was going to offer considering she hasn’t made her contempt with Steve a secret. She doesn’t strike him as the type to only talk behind one’s back, either, so Steve doesn’t doubt that Hela is under strict orders from Odin and Frigga to keep quiet if she can’t find anything tame to say.

Still, Steve’s thoughts drift back to the text Natasha had gotten from Sam and Maria a few hours ago, about an Asgard car being near the scene.

Even if Hela had wanted to make a move against Steve, using Wanda and Pietro to do so would’ve been a stretch, even for her. Maybe she thinks they should head the Families instead, especially with Steve in his father’s shoes for the time being, but Hela wouldn’t have much to gain from that kind of move. The Families each have their boroughs that they run, and even though they don’t draw the lines on a map, Steve knows the control is fairly evenly split. Steve learned fairly early on that his father’s supposed title of running the Families is mostly just that – some kind of title. He made the decisions, but nothing was ever decided without consulting the other families.

Steve can’t see it being worth it to Hela to get to him through Wanda and Pietro, not when there would be hell for her to answer to from the rest of the Family. Orchestrating raids on their shipments and deliveries doesn’t make much more sense, either, when she directly benefits from those profits.

Still, he can’t exactly shake the feeling that she’s involved somehow. It just may not be as obvious as it seems.

“You alright?” Natasha asks, standing close enough and keeping her voice low enough for only him to hear, even with Wanda, Clint, and Howard just a few steps away.

He hums, catching her arm in his hand, just above the elbow, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Walk with me?” he asks, and she nods.

Steve steps forward, waiting until Wanda notices him a few seconds later as to not interrupt Clint and Howard. “I’m going to grab some air before they show us to Pietro’s room,” he tells her, and Wanda nods, offering a small smile. He knows she isn’t exactly in a rush. She’d put up a fight at first when both Howard and Nick insisted that she and Steve go home to rest after they’ve sat with Pietro for a short while, but he knows she’s exhausted, and she conceded when Clint reminded her that the Family would be with Pietro all night and would call if anything urgent comes up. Pietro will likely be asleep until morning, anyway, and the doctors seem confident that he’ll make a quick recovery.

Natasha lets him take her hand as they turn the corner into the hallway, threading their fingers and lifting her hand up to brush a kiss to her knuckles.

They don’t step outside of the hospital – there are more men keeping watch, but it’s still risky, especially this late at night – but he walks them down a few hallways until they’re mostly alone and don’t seem to be in anyone’s way.

He leans back against the wall, sliding his hands over her hips and tugging her close, and he only catches a glimpse of the smirk tugging at her lips before he slants his mouth over hers. He tells himself it’ll just be a gentle, comforting brush – something selfish but quick – but he knows he’s not fooling anyone, especially not himself.

Natasha doesn’t flinch or stiffen in response, not even for half a second. Instead, she makes the softest sort of sound as she parts her lips, and within seconds, the kiss is deeper and it’s harder and it’s just more. He pulls her tightly against his chest as her hands slide up between them, draping around his neck, and he feels both exhilarated and exhausted all at once. Their argument in his kitchen felt like days ago, and sitting next to her on the barstool, drinking wine and flirting, felt like it’d happened weeks before.

Slowly, eventually, the frantic hum in his body ebbs into something softer, his mouth easing against Nat’s until she pulls back, just a little, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“I’m sorry for reacting the way I did,” he murmurs against the corner of her lips. “I trust your judgment, Nat. You were just being mindful of me.”

“I’m sorry I waited too long to tell you myself, because I was going to. I wanted you to hear all of it from me.” She pulls back a little more, just enough to really look into his eyes, and even though he knows she can probably read his every though, he still nods at her in encouragement and in reassurance. Because he believes her. He knows she’d been planning to tell him and she was just waiting for the right time, when she had enough of a reason for it to make sense to herself before she got him involved on it, too.

He doesn’t know if he would’ve taken it better or worse if she’d told him right away, when it was just a nagging thought that she decided to follow up on. He’d like to think that he would’ve handled it well enough, but then again, bringing his mother up to any extent even after all these years is still a little hard for him.

He doubts he would’ve had any rational reaction to hearing it in this context, in a theory that someone with the same name as his mother was stalking Natasha.

Steve exhales, dropping his forehead to hers. “We don’t have to talk about it now,” he promises softly, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. “I can barely keep myself upright, but I just wanted us to at least talk about this, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy to do it once we got home. I don’t like you thinking I don’t trust you.”

He hears the smile in her soft laugh. “I know you trust me,” she promises. “I don’t think I could even attempt to explain it right now, so it’s better if we get back to it later.”

He nods once, pulling her in close again as he lets his head fall into the curve of her shoulder. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been gone, but he doesn’t want to go back just yet and Natasha seems to share the sentiment as her body melts against his, her lips brushing against the pulse in his throat.

... ...

Bucky is the one to drive the four of them back to Steve’s from the hospital, and, considering it’s just after one in the morning by the time they step into the brownstone, it’s a given that he’ll be spending the night just as Nat is. Wanda lends her another set of pajamas to borrow, and Natasha thinks the girl is attempting to make a joke at first when she asks Natasha if she’ll be sharing a bed with her or Steve—but then Steve gives her this little smile when she looks at him and Natasha feels something warm start to unfurl in her chest. He tells her that it’s her choice, and that Bucky can take the couch if she doesn’t want to share a bed at all, but Natasha doesn’t even have to pause to consider.

Wanda lends her another set of pajamas to sleep in and Natasha gives her a hug goodnight, and then watches as Wanda walks up to Bucky to give him a hug, too, lingering a beat longer before giving him a small smile and then stepping into her room with Steve.

Natasha’s eyes flit to Bucky when the girl’s door clicks closed, and he exhales, “Don’t even start,” before she can even draw a breath.

His lips are twitching as if fighting off a smile of his own, though, so Natasha is willing to bet he isn’t nearly as uncomfortable with it her teasing as he acts.

Natasha breathes out a laugh. “I think it’s cute,” she says. Bucky sort of squints at her as if trying to determine if she’s teasing about that, too—and yeah, maybe she was. But then she catches the flicker in his eyes as he genuinely studies her, and she knows that he’s looking for something, though maybe he doesn’t even realize it for himself.

If anyone would be good enough for my little sister, it would be my best friend.

Natasha feels herself smile as she remembers how easily Steve said those words. She doesn’t necessarily think Bucky is looking for validation in this moment; she doubts he would’ve ever made a move on Wanda if he thought it would genuinely upset Steve, or if he thought he wasn’t enough for her.

Still, she lets the amusement in her smile fade at the edges as she peers back at him. “You were exactly what she needed tonight,” she tells him, her voice soft. If he’s surprised by the sentiment from her, though, he does a pretty damn good job of not letting on as he nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good night, Buck.”

Bucky’s chuckles follow her as she slips into Steve’s room, and she heads straight into the hallway bathroom to change.

She doesn’t realize just how damn exhausted she is until she has the door shut behind her. The nerves of waiting while Pietro was in surgery had kept the fatigue at bay back at the hospital, and though a little of it crept back in when she and Steve were alone in that hallway, she’d caught somewhat of a second wind when they walked back to wrap up with Uncle Howard and check on a sleeping Pietro in his private room. She doesn’t know how long Steve plans on talking with Wanda – probably not long at all since the two of them are likely wrung out by now – so Natasha is quick to change and wash up, just in case Steve plans on waiting on her before he turns the light off and passes out.

In fact, she’s doesn’t doubt that’s what he’d do.

The door to his bedroom is open partway, giving her a glimpse of Steve as he walks out of his bathroom, so Natasha switches off the hallway light behind her before slipping inside. He pauses in the middle of setting the throw pillows aside when he hears her, looking over his shoulder, and she lets her gaze trace over his body. She’d never felt as if he was reserved with her before, but it seems that, after their kiss, whatever little semblance of polite restraint that’d been between them had dissolved. Rather than a mild glance, she takes her time to look at him, her eyes sliding across his broad shoulders straining against his white tee, over his sculpted biceps and down to the cinch of his hips.

When she brings her eyes back up to his, she finds a small grin on his lips, one eyebrow arched. She nearly has to bite back a smirk.

“I’m disappointed.” She tilts her head as she walks over to him. “When you said you usually get warm at night, I was hoping that meant you went to bed shirtless.”

He chuckles. “Actually, I usually do.”

She raises her eyebrows, this time letting her smirk tug at her lips. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

She’s only half-teasing, and she knows he can hear it in her voice because he pauses, just for a second, as his eyes flits down to her lips, his gaze shifting into something a little darker and a little stormier. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, catching her gaze once more as he cocks his head ever so slightly in question—and though there’s a quip on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t really want to make light of this moment between them. She doesn’t want, not even for a second, for this to feel any less of what it is.

They’ve both waited too damn long for this.

She grasps at his shirt, pushing the material up his body, and he helps her pull it over his head before letting it fall to the floor. She holds his stare as she places her palms flat against his chest, and when he reaches up, gently grasping at her wrists, she knows he won’t pull her, nor is he afraid that she may suddenly change her mind.

He simply wants to touch her, and so he does, stroking the pads of his thumbs ever so slightly across her skin as another small grin pulls at his lips. “You can tell me if this is too much, too fast, Nat,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer.

“Considering this should have happened weeks ago, it’s not fast enough.” She narrows her eyes at him, her smirk widening. “If you don’t kiss me, Steve—”

He’s laughing as his mouth slants over hers, and Natasha feels that same flutter of warmth in her chest as she had when he’d kissed her at the hospital.

He pulls her arms around his neck, guiding her back until he’s wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her onto the bed, deepening their kiss as he lowers her against the mattress. His teeth graze against her lower lip right before he nips it, making her mouth part a little more against his as his tongue sweeps inside. It only takes seconds for his gentle yet firm kiss to shift, growing just a little bit rougher, just a little bit harder, as one of his hands comes up to cup her jaw. She can feel the slight tremble of his thumb across her skin, turning into a shiver that rolls down his spine as he presses them together, and she knows that every ounce of emotion from the day—hell, from just the last few hours—is crashing back over him, rushing through his veins. He’d done a good job at tamping down all of his anxieties at the hospital, but now they’re finally bursting free.

She knows he won’t want to just forget everything that happened today, and it’s not that he really wants a distraction, either. He just needs something to do with all of the raw emotion humming restlessly through his body, and she knows one thing that might work.

Her hands slide out from around his neck and slip between them, gently dragging her nails down the contours of his chest until she grasps at the waistband of his sweats.

But then he’s grasping at one of her hands to stop her, parting their kiss and lifting his head just enough to peer into her eyes. “Let me help,” she whispers.

He ducks his head, kissing her throat, nipping at the pulse in her neck, and she exhales a sigh as she arches up against him. “You are helping,” he insists, his voice soft but sincere as his lips brush across her collarbone, dips between her breasts just above the dip of her tank top. He grasps at the hem, pushing it up to bare her stomach, and she threads her fingers through his hair as he places a kiss just above one of her ribs. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, pausing. “You can tell me to stop.”

Her eyelashes flutter closed as she smiles like an idiot up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how he keeps surprising her, but she likes it a little too much.

“Is this for you, too?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. He’d said it just seconds ago, even if not in the exact words, and she absolutely believes that Steve would want to focus on her pleasure alone as a way to channel all of the excess energy radiating off of his skin.

Still, her stomach does a little flip when he hums his reassurances against her hipbone, nipping her skin there, and she lifts her hips off of the bed so he can slide her panties and her pajama shorts off. He presses his thighs apart, his eyes flickering up along the length of her body to catch her gaze right before his tongue sweeps against her.

Oh.

She sucks in a breath, spine arching just a little bit off of the bed, and he pulls one of her knees over his shoulder as he opens her up a little wider, glides his tongue against her a little harder. She’d already been damp from the few minutes they’d been kissing, and it doesn’t take long for her to grow wetter, her skin flushing all over as he takes his time tasting her. He licks through the slick folds of her sex, finding her little bundle of nerves and sucking on it lightly, too lightly, and she lets her head roll to the side as she exhales heavily. He’s driving her crazy, leaning every inch of her, teasing at her entrance until she’s twisting her fingers into his duvet and rolling her hips against his mouth.

Then his tongue slips inside, curling, and she lets out a soft moan as her hips buck ever so slightly against him. She swears she feels him grin.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he sweeps his tongue inside of her, then up through her folds, flicking at her tight bud before dipping back down, repeating the cycle and yet somehow teasing her enough with sudden quick sucks or lingering licks so that she can’t fall into his rhythm.

She feels ready to burst, her body lightly slicked with sweat and her breaths coming in shaky and haltingly. It almost feels as if the more she squirms under his tongue, the longer he draws it out. Her hands find his hair again, twisting into it and all but holding him in place, hips jerking as she chases the climbing pressure low in her stomach—

Then he catches her clit between his lips, sucking it into his mouth and letting his tongue dart out against it, and she bows off of the bed as she finally, finally hits the edge.

One of his hands digs into the flesh of her ass, holding her to him as she rides out the waves of her high. He groans against her, sounding every bit as delicious tortured as she feels, and, god, that makes her come just a little bit harder, hearing how much pleasure he gets out of her pleasure.

She feels the tease of his fingers a second before he slips two inside of her with ease, curling, his tongue still working over her tight bundle of nerves, and this time her moan is a little louder when it spills from her lips.

Her second orgasm comes right on the heels of her first, harder and headier, and longer, the thrust of his fingers dragging out every ounce of pleasure from her as he can. She doesn’t know if she should feel embarrassed by how easily she falls apart for him or impressed by how quickly he reads her, but as the white-hot waves burst through her, she can’t find it in herself to care about either. Especially not when Steve’s body is moving over her again, his hand wrapping around his hard length as he dips down to kiss her.

He groans into her mouth, letting her taste her sweet musk on his tongue as she shivers under the ripples of her orgasm, and, very faintly through the thrum of the blood rushing through her, she can hear the wet slide of him working his hand over himself, chasing his own high.

“Nat,” he breathes into their kiss, and even through the haze of pleasure smothering her, she knows what words he can’t quite find, knows what he’s really asking.

She nods, almost frantic, reaching up with trembling hands to cup his face. She can’t quite find her words, either, so she just kisses him even harder instead.

He groans again, his body shuddering as he rushes over that edge, too, and she feels the warmth of his release start to wet her stomach. She nearly shivers, biting down on his lower lip and then licking at the indent of her teeth, and she doesn’t even care that their kiss has grown messy as he rides out his high.

Fuck. Fuck.

She parts their lips as her lungs start to burn for air and his head falls forward into the curve of her neck. She really, really shouldn’t be smiling like an idiot right now, but she couldn’t care less his body shivers through the last tremors of his orgasm.

He kisses the thrumming pulse in her neck once, twice, three times, and then lifts his head enough to stare down at her face. His hand is wet with his release when he touches her, but then again, so is she. He licks his lips before they hitch into a boyish sort of grin, and her stomach flips as she returns it with a small grin of her own.

If she thought she’d been exhausted before, she’s very nearly about to pass out now as Steve slides off of her and heads into his bathroom. Even then, though, this kind of fatigue feels warmer and lighter, and she can see it in his face, too, when Steve returns with a handful of tissue and damp washcloth. The heaviness that’d been in his eyes is no longer there as he methodically works to wipe her off with the tissues, disposing them into a small waste bin by his nightstand before running the washcloth over her skin.

When he heads back into the bathroom and returns a second time, he pulls the duvet back for them to climb under and then switches off the light. He reaches for her in the same second that she slides closer, and she smiles against his skin when he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She knows she must’ve fallen asleep in the very next second, but she still hears his murmured, “thank you,” into her hair as she drifts off.

... ...

Steve has never been a deep sleeper, which is likely the reason he’s almost always up before dawn. But he knows before he’s even entirely awake that he’d gotten more rest last night than he has in a long while.

He also knows before he’s even opened his eyes that Natasha isn’t in the bed with him. He doesn’t feel the gentle press of her body against his or her hair falling across his shoulder, but he can still catch her scent clinging to the fabric of his sheets, something soft and sweet and just a little bit spiced, too. He can hear her, though. It’s faint and muffled and honestly something he thinks he could be imagining at first, considering he’s only really half-awake. But her laugh lilts through the air, mingling with Wanda’s giggles as it floats into his room. The sound makes a smile tug at his lips as he blinks his eyes open, squinting against the early morning light filtering in from the windows.

He can’t remember the last time he slept in until sunrise.

Another giggle floats through the air, a little louder this time, and, now that he’s almost entirely awake now, Steve can hear someone moving around in the kitchen. Probably Bucky. He knows the guy has to be at the precinct soon, and Wanda will want to leave early as well so they can get back to the hospital. Honestly, he’s surprised that his sister didn’t come straight into his room to wake him as soon as she was up herself, but it seems that she’s content and distracted enough by Nat to give him a few more minutes.

He finds the door wide open when he steps into the hallway, the two of them perched on the bed and huddled close together, and Steve’s gaze catches on Natasha. She put her panties and her pajama shorts back on, of course, but just the sight of them pulls him back to last night and to the look in her eyes when he’d peeled them off of her and tossed them to the floor. Part of him had wondered as he drifted to sleep if it would feel different in the morning. If he’d wake up and realized they maybe should’ve waited.

But he doesn’t think that, not even for a second.

Because Natasha had been right about the fact that they’ve been dancing around this, them, for weeks. Just because they’d fallen into bed together only hours after he’d kissed her for the first time doesn’t mean they’d rushed through anything.

And just because he hadn’t been inside her doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be. But they’d both been exhausted – mentally, physically, and for damn sure emotionally – and he’s glad he’d waited. He won’t be forgetting last night anytime soon, but when they finally sleep together, he doesn’t want an ounce of fatigue clouding his memory.

Wanda catches sight of him in the doorway, her smile brightening, and Natasha follows her gaze onto him. “Good morning,” she greets, a small smirk pulling at her lips.

“Good morning.” He bites back a smirk of his own, shifting his gaze onto Wanda to find her eyes practically sparkling. “Sleep well?”

“Not as well as you, it seems,” Wanda replies, wrinkling her nose at him. He nearly shakes his head, but then she’s sliding off the bed and onto her feet and coming over to him, wrapping her arms around him with a squeeze, and, yeah. He can wait until later find out what the two of them were giggling about.

“You okay?” he whispers, and she presses her face into his chest, humming. Steve glances at Nat, her smile softening as she nods. “Come on. Let’s go make breakfast.”

Wanda unwinds her arms from around him, letting him brush a kiss to her temple before stepping into the hallway, and then Natasha is stepping passed him, too, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a grin. He reaches forward and gently grasps her arm, pulling her until her back is pressed against his chest, and he ducks his head to press a kiss to the skin right next to her ear. Her grin widens as she exhales a light chuckle. “Well, you’re awfully chipper for someone who had quite the stressful night,” she muses.

He chuckles, too, giving her arm a slight squeeze. “Not all of it was stressful,” he points out, releasing her arm, and she tips her head back so he can brush a kiss to her lips.

He keeps it quick, only lingering for a beat before drawing back, but it’s still enough for a warmth to unfurl in his chest, making his blood hum softly. Natasha’s eyes are glinting as she turns away from him, and he grins as he follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Wanda is already perched on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, spooning some sugar into her mug, and Bucky is drinking his own as he stands beside her. Steve is willing to bet that the guy’s burning his mouth right now as he gulps down his mug, but he’s already cutting it close to when he should be at the precinct.

“You guys going to be at the hospital all day?” Bucky asks as Steve opens a cabinet and pulls down two more mugs.

“Yeah, probably,” he replies. “We may run out once or twice in between, but we’ll be there as long as we can. I doubt they’ll be discharging him today, anyway.”

Howard had text him sometime last night to let him know that Pietro woke up twice and seemed coherent as he talked to the doctor, but he’s been asleep ever since, still lethargic from the surgery. There was another text from Nick, too, telling him that they hadn’t caught who else had been at the shooting, and honestly, Steve didn’t think they would. It’s clear the ambush was planned, like every other ambush the Families have dealt these last few weeks, so it isn’t surprising that they covered their tracks well.

Bucky nods. “Let me know,” he says, and Steve knows that he’s already planning on meeting them at the hospital after his shift, or he’ll meet them back here instead if they’ve already left. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, muttering under his breath before draining the last of his coffee. “I should get going,” he tells them, loading his mug into the dishwasher, and then he’s heading back over to Wanda, pausing just a second to flash her a small grin, and then dipping down to kiss her.

Her eyelashes flutter in surprise, but he pulls back before she can so much as blink, turning to Steve and only barely fighting back a wider grin. “See you later, punk.”

“Pretty sure you’re the punk in this moment,” Steve replies dryly.

His best friend knows that he’s joking, though, so Bucky just chuckles and shoots Nat a grin on his way out.

Wanda’s cheeks are a little flushed as she cradles her mug with both hands, taking a sip of her coffee and catching his gaze over the rim, and there’s something hesitant in her gaze that makes him pause. He knows she’s not necessarily embarrassed by that kiss, even if he’d been there to see, but he can tell something about it is bothering her.

Natasha can see it, too, because she slips onto the barstool beside Wanda’s and brushes her hair behind her ear. “Everything okay?”

Wanda rubs her lips together, giving her a wry sort of smile. “I just don’t want to get too attached,” she admits, her voice soft as she peers down into her coffee. Steve furrows his eyebrows, sharing a confused glance with Natasha, but Wanda continues before they can ask why. “It’s one thing for us to be close because I’m his best friend’s little sister, and maybe it’s okay if we just stay friends. But it’s another thing for him to be involved with me,” she points out, lifting her head and shrugging one shoulder.

“Because he’s a cop and you’re a mafia princess?” he guesses. She nods and he walks over to her, sitting on the other barstool beside her. “Quite the Romeo and Juliet setup.”

Wanda breathes out a laugh as she rolls her eyes. “Please don’t use that as an example of a love story. It’s a poetic tragedy at best.”

Despite everything, Steve chuckles. “I wasn’t going to, because this isn’t a tragedy,” he promises, and the wry amusement fades from his sister’s expression as she gives him a long look. He cups the back of her head as he kisses her temple. “If that’s the only thing you’re worried about then you two will be fine. Buck won’t let that get in the way.”

“He shouldn’t have to risk his job, either,” Wanda argues. “I know it’s an issue for him and Sam to be so close to us. Maybe not you since you knew them from before, but—”

“Wanda,” Steve interrupts gently, giving her a small smile. “Bucky is one of the best detectives in the state. His job isn’t in any more danger than it was before, and he hasn’t even gotten a word of caution from his higher ups, which he would’ve if he was being scrutinized because he’s good friends with his captain. Trust me, and trust him, too.”

His sister nods, but the hesitation doesn’t quite leave her eyes. “I don’t want him to always be scrutinized by the Family, either.”

“You’d be surprised,” Natasha says, and Wanda turns to her, furrowing her eyebrows. “Uncle Howard is relieved that you’ve had Bucky with you all this time.” Wanda blinks and Natasha offers her a grin and a shrug of her shoulders. “Trust me, I was surprised when Aunt Maria told me this, too. But things are changing,” she reminds, glancing at Steve for a moment. “They came around to your brother. They’ll come around to Bucky and Sam, too. Not all of them, but the ones that care about you will. Just give it time.”

Wanda smiles a little, the tension ebbing from her shoulders as she nods. “Okay,” she promises, resting her head against Steve’s shoulder. He glances over her to catch Natasha’s gaze again, grinning when she winks at him before she sliding off of the stool to retrieve their coffee.

... ...

They’ve been at the hospital for a few hours when Steve gets a text from Maria saying that she and Sam are picking up lunch for them—and honestly, Natasha had pretty much forgotten Maria’s revelation about Joseph Rogers until this moment.

It must’ve slipped Wanda’s mind, too, because Steve would have mentioned if his sister had told him that their father was adopted and had every trace of his life before New York wiped clean. Maybe he could’ve already known himself, but it seems unlikely. And Natasha would’ve preferred for Nick to be here so she and Steve can ask him about it directly, but his consigliere, Coulson, came to take his place last night, and Natasha isn’t going to wait this time to tell Steve, especially not with something this important.

“I’m assuming Maria knows what you two will eat because she didn’t ask for any preferences,” Steve tells Natasha and Wanda with a chuckle after reading the text.

Natasha smirks. “She does, but knowing Maria, it could be a complete surprise, too,” she quips, her gaze flitting to Wanda, and she sees the shift in the girl’s expression as she recalls the revelation that Maria dropped on them last night. Her eyebrows furrow and Natasha nods once before turning back to Steve, not surprised to find him watching their exchange curiously. “Maria found something out from Nick, but when she told me and Wanda last night, she didn’t know much,” Natasha says, and Steve lifts his eyebrows.

“Dad wasn’t born here, in the States,” Wanda tells him, her voice soft but still clear in the quiet of Pietro’s room. “He had his past erased.”

“Erased?” Steve’s hand tightens ever so slightly where it’s perched atop one of Natasha’s knees, his jaw tightening a little. He doesn’t look entirely surprised, though, and Natasha is willing to bet that’s because something along these lines might’ve already been in his head ever since they’d found that photo of his father and her mother.

“Nick said that our father was adopted, but there are no records of it,” Wanda adds. “He came here when he was thirteen and anything about his past before that is gone.”

Natasha slides her hand over his, squeezing, and Steve turns his gaze to her as his forehead creases in a silent question.

“My mother also had parts of her past wiped out,” she tells him, and again, Steve doesn’t seem as surprised as you might’ve expected. Honestly, after the initial shock had gone away at Maria’s words, Natasha knew that the thought had already been in her head, too. Maybe she could never have guessed it exactly what Maria had told her, but it was clear ever since the night she and Steve had seen that photograph that their parents (and probably most of the Family, too) had been hiding something all these years.

He nods, lifting her hand to brush a kiss to the back of it. “You okay?” he murmurs against her skin, and, despite everything, Natasha nods.

Because it’s true. Natasha may not like that her parents – and likely her aunt and uncle as well – have kept something from her for so long now, but at the same time, she doubts that anything her mother could be hiding is something that would make Natasha see her differently. And yes, Natasha would be lying if she said she hasn’t become a little warier around her parents since finding that photo, but still, she can’t quite bring herself to put any real distance between them or cut them off. They’re still her parents.

“Well, that’s definitely new,” a voice drawls, and Natasha looks up as Maria and Sam walk into the room. Maria glances pointedly at Natasha’s hand in Steve’s before lifting her gaze up to Natasha’s, arching an eyebrow as a smirk plays at her lips, and Natasha is smirking, too, as she rolls her eyes.

“Man, we’re gone not even for a whole day and we miss out on all the fun,” Sam quips, setting two plastic bags of takeout on the table.

Natasha’s smirk widens. “I don’t know, I feel like you two must’ve had some fun of your own,” she retorts as Maria drops into the chair beside hers. “Have you even left each other’s side since last night, or before then, for that matter? You did show up to Steve’s together, if I recall correctly.”

Wanda giggles softly as Maria shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she argues. “If we’re not talking about you and Steve, we have something more exciting to discuss instead.”

Sam shoots Maria a smirk as he crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I wouldn’t exactly call the Russian mob exciting, but alright.”

That makes Natasha pause. Of all the things for these two could’ve brought up, she certainly hadn’t been expecting this. “What about the Russian mob?” Natasha asks.

“Turns out, some members of the Petrovich mob are here in New York, and they have been for weeks,” Maria answers, the amusement fading from her eyes as she shakes her head. “I don’t know how the hell that managed to slip under everyone’s radars for so long, but I suppose the Family has otherwise been preoccupied. The best part?” Maria arches an eyebrow. “My father found out that Yuri Petrovich is here with them. Quite a long way for the son of the head of the Petrovich mob to travel without a good reason.”

Natasha hums, sharing a glance with Steve. “Any ideas on what that reason could be?”

Maria shakes her head. “They have associates that they work occasionally based in New York, but a simple transaction or negotiation wouldn’t involve the heir of the Petrovich mob making the trip here in person,” she points out.

“Could they be here because of the Families?” Wanda asks, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “All of the ambushes and shootings, and the crash at the Stark club…”

Steve squeezes Natasha’s hand. “It’d be one hell of an accusation without any real connection,” Steve points out, though he doesn’t sound as if he’s doubting his sister, either.

Natasha presses her lips together as her Aunt Maria’s words from the other day float through her thoughts once more.

Things are changing, darling. Your uncle just wants to keep you safe.

Her aunt never addressed it when Natasha asked if she was in danger, and, at the moment, she’d simply thought it was because of what happened at the club. The whole family has been on edge ever since, even though Natasha has been in her fair of danger before, but she decided not to push the matter. It’s not as if they’ve never been concerned for her before, and just because they tried not to let her see their worry as much before doesn’t necessarily make it suspicious that they choose not to hide it now.

Unless, of course, they had a reason to be worried beyond a foreign mob being in New York. Unless there’s a connection, as Steve had put it.

Her mother is Russian, and most likely Joseph Rogers is, too. And Natasha is willing to bet it isn’t just a coincidence that they not only ended up in mafias, but the same mafia.

“Speaking of connection,” Maria continues, drawing Natasha from her thoughts as she pulls out her phone. “You’ll never guess who I happened to see yesterday.”

She swipes to a photo on her screen and hands it over to Natasha, and the first thing her stare catches on is the long, golden blonde hair swept into a ponytail. Sarah Rogers. Or whoever the hell this woman actually is, but it is her—the very same woman that had been at the coffeehouse that morning. Maria had done a quick scan of the plates on the cars parked outside of Natasha’s apartment the day Natasha had told her about seeing a black compact car, and one had come back registered under Sarah Rogers’ name.

“Is this her?” Steve asks, his voice a little gruff in Natasha’s ear, and she nods as she hands him the phone. She watches his reaction, just in case there might be some echo of recognition, but she isn’t surprised not to see any.

“She’s sure as hell living up to her alias, too,” Sam chimes in, making Natasha and Steve turn their gaze onto him. “We saw her go into your old apartment in Brooklyn.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “That apartment was empty when we went,” he says, glancing at Natasha. “Maybe we should’ve checked the other units.”

“Or maybe we need to go back,” Natasha says. It’s one thing for this woman to happen to have the same name as Sarah Rogers, and maybe it could have been a simple coincidence for Natasha to have noticed her in the first place. But her car being parked outside of Natasha’s apartment for weeks would be hard to just write off, and seeing her heading into the abandoned apartment where Sarah Rogers had lived is even harder to ignore. And if that’d been intentional, then Natasha doubts this woman would’ve been able to find the exact address without also determining the apartment number, too. Maybe she simply hadn’t found it by the time Steve and Natasha had gone there.

Maybe they’d simply missed her.

“Buck will be bummed to miss out on all the fun, but after lunch, I’m good to go,” Sam offers, patting his stomach with a smirk. “Can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

Maria fights off a smirk of her own as she rolls her eyes. Natasha hesitates, but Maria shakes her head before Natasha can get a word out. “Don’t even start,” Maria tells her. “Either you’ll need back-up in case this woman really has been stalking you, or you’ll need extra eyes to help search the building. Either way, we’re coming with you.”

Beside her, Steve turns to look at Wanda again. “You’ll be alright here for a few hours?” he asks, because he knows as much as Wanda would want to help, too, it’ll be hard for her not to be with Pietro. She knows he’d woken up overnight, but she has yet to see for herself that he’s truly okay.

Wanda gives him a small smile as she nods. “Of course,” she answers, her eyes shifting to Natasha. “And I know you don’t need this said, but be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Steve answers instead, and, despite everything, Natasha feels a smile tug at her lips as she peers up at Steve. “I’ll have her back.”

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #chanty writes #mafia 'verse

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