#Why didn’t I get a memo about him? Oh well. Better late than never. Keep dragging him though when he deserves that. Which happens a lot lol

[artuski]

Angel is such an interesting character. Why were you people slapping pics and gifs of Spike in my face for years?

[evita-shelby]

Tie Your Heart to Mine

Chapter 16

Cw: mentions of the holocaust occuring, some minor slut shaming and use of an ethnic slur towards the end and mentions of sex

Gif by @sibirr

The war doesn’t catch them off guard.

Everything had been prepared and now they’d see how far this head start gets them. The two months they got have the factories performing better than the rest who’ve only just switched gears.

Their warehouses were filled to the brim, the wages and hours allowed the staff to live comfortably and save some for the next five years.

1945, a year longer than the Great War and yet the casualties and damage of it will be a drop in a bucket compared to this Second World War.

12 million dead, none of them soldiers.

It filled her with dread to know they couldn’t’ stop it. While they know what happens, fate decides what you can and can not change. All they can do is use their foresight to change what little they can and hope it makes a difference.

Tom had been arrested two weeks ago and put in remand at Strangeways as a category B criminal. He’d gone to have breakfast at home and the police had come to charge him for illegal gambling, and because he is as slippery as an eel, he was put in a prison cell until his trial.

Dia had tried to get him out, but the Sergeant was not feeling like accepting her bail money even after she conjured a real betting license to prove he had done no crimes.

They knew what they wanted him to do, they needed young men who cannot say no to enlisting because the army has no chance in hell of gaining those numbers overnight.

“He left his coat at my place, bought him a fresh pack of cigarettes because I know that’s the first thing he’ll ask for.” Diane said when she showed up at the Bennett’s doorstep with Tom’s overcoat.

“Tom’s lucky to have you looking after him, Diane.” Douglas speaks with approval in his voice and Diane wonders if the wariness he initially had has finally left.

Oh he’s going to hate her when Tom joins the navy, the witch thinks as she muttered thanks and offered to drive them to the prison.

“How did your audition go, I tried to ask Connie, but she was busy with Eddie and I didn’t want to interrupt.” Diane asked wisely leaving the word ENSA out of her mouth as they wait for Tom outside the prison.

“Good, the people said we were great and they’d be in touch.” Lois said knowing her dad won’t try and say anything since they’re in public and in company.

“If you don’t get in, my mom still needs a singer for her charity dinner next week. You’d be helping drive the donations for the refugees coming from Europe and all expenses would be paid for by the Shelby Foundation.” Diane suggested hoping she would mention ENSA on her own.

Douglas didn’t approve of it, but Lois would have to rip of the Band-Aid sooner or late. Diane had suggested they do it on the drive here, Douglas wouldn’t jump out of a moving car to avoid having that conversation with his daughter.

Like how Charlie did when he was approved for pilot training two weeks ago. Their parents had been terrified for him and yet no matter how much their mom claimed she’d kill herself; she never opened the car door.

“We auditioned for ENSA, dad. The recruiter said we were surely getting a call back.” Lois gets the memo and spills it.

Douglas keeps on walking and pretending he hasn’t heard her.

“They go away and entertain the troops.” The young singer adds as if her dad wouldn’t have known what it was.

“Yeah, I know what they do.” Her dad looked out ashen and clenched his jaw to hide his anger and fear and all that clinging to him like a coat. “I just wondered why Connie had you auditioning for them. Knowing that you can't do it, like.”

Douglas needed Lois home; he was not well enough to handle being on his own. Or so he thinks.

“Well, I was thinking about that and...” Lois paused and tried to gently remind him that she is twenty-one, “I was thinking, you know, why not?”

“Why not?” Douglas scoffed and lost most of his argument when they found Tom waiting for them with that carefree attitude of his. “Here’s one good reason why not, right here.”

“Either of you started to smoke? I'm dying for a fag.” Despite Tom smelling exactly like two weeks in a damp prison cell, Diane greets her boyfriend with a kiss at the edge of his mouth --- his dad and some prison guards were there--- only for him to pull her in a tight embrace and gave her what he called a real kiss.

“Coat pocket, got you a fresh pack after finishing yours last week at my parent’s house.” Diane answers as he takes off his dirty shirt and sweater and Lois hands him his clean shirt.

“See, she didn’t forget to bring my overcoat, Loo.” Tom says trying to lighten the mood only to get a glare from his sister. “I'm joking.”

He amends and then adds as he lights his first cigarette of the day. “I smell like a wet dog.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His sister chuckled knowing Tom’s news was going to make their dad forget Lois plans on accepting that offer by ENSA.

“When are you in court, then?” his dad asked bracing for the worst. Everyone was aware that most were given a choice, jail or army. Since they wish to make an example of Tom, who knows what they’ll do to make him enlist and have the Germans deal with those they viewed as a lost cause.

 “I'm not.” Tom changed into his clean shirt and began to do up the buttons. He walks faster too, whatever he’s going to say next is enough to make him nervous.

 “You've been on remand for two weeks. They must have charged you with something.” His dad notes his nerves with suspicion. Of course he would, he’s his father, he’d know the moment something wasn’t right with his son just as her dad does with her.

“They were going to. But then I said I'd join up.” Tom can’t even look at them because Diane and his sister know the next words that leave his mouth are gonna be lies.

“The Army?” Douglas tried to hide his fears letting his anger cover the words he said and his children pretend they couldn’t hear it. “No, you'd be better off in there.”

Because there you would be safe.

“I won't actually be joining up, Dad. I'm a conscientious objector.” Tom looked briefly over his shoulder with that mischievous look about him, selling his lie so well Douglas can’t help but buy it.

“Since when?” there is a look of pride in Douglas’ face as he asks his son, believing the lie because maybe this time it will be true. A heartbreaking thing, if you ask Diane.

“About half an hour ago?” Tom looked forward again, his smile dropping because it pains him to see that hopeful look in his dad’s eye.

“I'll get you some leaflets, then.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting my own place.” Diane said once they arrived at her lodgings. After this he’d go to the recruitment office and disappoint his old man even further. He only needed a quick bath, a good fuck and his clean sweater she’d stolen a night or two ago. His bird loved wearing his shirts and he liked the way she looked wearing only that in the mornings before he left out the door.

Then once he and his dad get into another argument at home, he’ll come back here through the window ---Mrs. Johnson still refuses to just let him in to save face--- and spend the handful of nights he has left with Diane.

“Mrs. Johnson giving you trouble?” he asked as she unlocked her door. Once inside the blond plans to make up for those fourteen fucking days without her.

“No, but I have a feeling its time.” She shook her head and Tom’s reminded of those visions she told him about.

Maybe he’ll leave her with a limp and something else to remember him by when they ship him out to die. He’s got enough for a ring, a simple one because he knows she doesn’t care about shit like money or luxury.

Diane Elizabeth Bennett sounds far better than Diane Shelby, if you ask him.

“What makes you think that, Lady Di?” he teased and slammed the door behind them a little too forcefully.

Two fucking weeks without a cigarette, good food and worst of all, no Diane to keep him company. She’d visited, but save for a quick kiss and some handholding, there hadn’t been any relief for him.

His witch will have to take the day off tomorrow too unless she wants him to ruin her schedule and show her exactly how much he missed her those fourteen lonely nights.

“Gotten tired of having to sneak you in after hours, has me fretting over whether or not you’ll fall and break that pretty face of yours.” Her mismatched eyes light up with lust and all the dirty ideas a good girl in this respectable boarding house isn’t supposed to have.

But she’s not acting on it, Diane wants to talk about this and he’s in no fucking mood for it.

“I’m a good climber, why else do you think they put me up at Strangeways with all the scum of Manchester?” he was not fighting her on the idea, god knows he’s tired of playing Romeo and fucking Juliet in a place where at least a third of the ladies know the rumors about him are all true.

“No fence could keep you from me, bet the sea won’t either.” Diane said with a giggle as they went to the nearest comfortable surface to make up for lost time. “But I need my own house, Tom, I’m tired of having to keep quiet when we fuck.”

Even more reason, gotten so many complaints by the uptight schoolteacher next door who hates him for all the shit he pulled when he was her student. His dad had heard her refer to Diane as the gypsy slut and warned him about her during his last visit. Diane should have a house in mind, she wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t.

“If it were up to me, I’d move you into my bed at home. It’s going to be empty anyways, and Lois will need the company. With two posh boys to worry about, she’ll need someone to talk sense into her for me.” He suggests as he took of his shirt and watched her undo the buttons on her blouse as slowly as could.

“My poor, poor brother. He’s coming to visit tonight, only problem Harry’s going to be there too. But enough about our siblings, Tom, fourteen days and nights without you were absolute hell.” His witch said reminding him they had better things to focus on than their siblings’ love lives.

[starshipsofstarlord]

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Hi, could you do one where the boys are still enemies but someone attacked harry when hes an auror and harry shows up at Dracos house and then draco helps him out and then something about the next day. I know its cliche but yeah

hey, remember love you requested this.. if you don't then now you do. My greatest apologies to fill this out this late, hope you understand @emzlolz

Cinnamon rolls was a date

Fluff | ENEMIES to LOVER trope |

" i don't understand your problem " harry snapped as he slammed his door behind him

" my problem ? you seriously think i have a problem, try working with someone as egoistic as you then maybe come to me and i'll tell you what my problem is " draco snapped back aggressively collecting his files from harry's table.

" oh, i'm egoistic, pardon me. Have you ever even looked at your own self, you're the egoistic one who needs all the credit to himself, what would you even know about throwing your life out, you just sit there in your own little cubicle brewing potions. You don't even understand what actual danger is" harry sneered shoving draco's files towards him.

"Oh of course only the great harry potter seems to be one in danger, the hell you know about being in my little cubicle breathing in the toxic fumes that can maybe cut my life span into half but what does the world care about it right because you're doing the almighty work by being on the scene and saving lives and we're just bloody here stuck in the little cubicles where our things won't even fucking fit. You know what potter, you are just like those politicians who think that people like you who are actually at the scene does the actual work and think of us like peasants, who does nothing but brew fucking potions all day " draco yelled at harry and then stormed out before harry could've even understood draco. Although harry couldn't bring himself to care much about it because he knew draco just said it out of spite like he always had not because he genuinely hated harry, or at least that's what harry always thought of them, the stupid traditional rivalry.

They of course didn't meet each all day or the next day or even the day after that and much of their anger cooled down and harry had anonymously put a memo for raise for potioneers, he never knew why he did it but he did, perhaps he cared if even a little whether he liked to admit or not.

Draco had been at home, having a conversation with one of his fellow potioneers about the anonymous tip about their raise and appreciating and disgracing the anonymous person when draco's doorbell rang and he frowned at the absurdity of someone to ring him after 9 pm. He was more than ready to yell at whoever the person was until he had opened the door to reveal harry leaning over the door, clutching his torso as if he was in pain.

" sorry, i don't do trick and treats " draco rolled his eyes

" its not halloween you idiot, i'm- fuck-"

" are yo- wait you're bleeding " draco immediately helped him inside to the living room and over to the couch.

" why aren't you at St. Mungo's ?" draco asked as he helped harry off his coat and put them away

" i didn't want to go there " harry grimaced in pain, flinching when draco's hand accidentally hit over his chest.

" i don't get it, why not ?" draco asked taking off his auror boots and throwing them away. He proceeded to help harry off with the rest of his heavy clothings until he was left in blood stained shirt and just pants.

" i have very strong recollection of school days " draco mumbled. Harry leaned his head almost smiling but winced in pain as his muscles clenched.

" what did you get hit with- harry- hey stay awake " draco lightly slapped his cheeks to keep harry conscious

" pocket knife i guess " harry shut off his eyes this time but draco shook him a little so he remained awake.

" come on, let me get you to the washroom and we'll take a look at this " draco helped harry up over his shoulder and helped him into his washroom, settling him over the sink and fetching his potions and first aids.

" I'll take off your shirt, alright ?" Draco asked cautiously as he clutched the button on Harry's shirt.

" you'd like that, huh ?" Harry smirked with a pained look

" do you always have to the intolerant sodding idiot that you are " draco rolled his eyes as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt and dropped it over the ground.

Harry Only Chuckled a little, supporting his head against the mirror and his arms resting by his side, too tired to move.

Draco analysed Harry's torso carefully for a mark of being hit by a spell bruising his skin "something hit you ?" He asked

Harry looked down his chest to where draco's fingers were resting and he nodded "thrown on a wall "

Draco winced immediately at the words but picked up his wand and cast an episky and cleared it with a wet towel he had just fetched.

" why do you Always like to throw your life onto line ?" Draco asked genuinely as he started wiping off Harry's wounds that leaked with more blood as he cleansed.

" what else am I supposed to do, sit there with a popcorn and watch " harry rolled his eyes, wriggling a little backwards to sit more comfortably, closing his eyes in fatigue. 

" well at Least not try to get hit this badly "draco rolled his eyes again, now applying antiseptic over the wound and padding it with cotton. Draco looked up momentarily to see harry watching him as he bandaged his wound with tapes and bandages and cutting the remaining bandage with scissors.

" stop staring at me, makes me nervous " draco blushed cutting the last of spare bandage just above his waist.

Harry immediately looked away blushing to himself, interesting himself with the ceiling with false wooden look.

Draco ran his hand through harry's chest again to see if he could feel anymore of broken ribs or any broken vertebrae along his back and when he looked up to Harry's face he found a deep cut by his cheek.

"I don't like being your Personal healer " draco mumbled as he carefully through Harry's chin made him look at draco.

" i- I know, I'm sorry " harry mumbled as he watched draco dip the clean towel in hot water and cleansing Harry's cut.

" that pocket knife really hurt you " draco muttered as he softly took some antiseptic ointment in his finger and applied it over the cut, harry flinching immediately.

" hurts ?" Draco asked

Harry nodded.

Draco nodded and this time tried more carefully and finally allowed the ointment to sink in deep.

" why did you come here? you could’ve gone to anyone, why me ?" Draco finally asked staring at harry sitting in front of him with his legs spaced so draco was fit in between them.

Harry only Stared for draco for a few moments before he shrugged off his shoulders " I didn't wanna go to st. Mungo's "

Draco seemed like he didn't believe Harry, why must he anyways but he decided not to ask anymore from harry and only helped him off the counter.

They walked through the hallways back into the living room and Draco fetched him a blanket.

" I should get going actually-"

" you really think you can disapparate right now..you really are that dumb then" draco mocked harry.

Harry rolled his eyes getting up " I disapparated here on my own "

Draco exhaled sharply, clutching his eyes shut for moment as if it'd release some frustration " you don't always have to be the tough guy alright. If you disapparate now all your bandages will loosen and you'd be splinched- just- stay here for the night or until you're good enough to go "

" I am good enough to go " harry bit back.

Draco leaned up closer to harry and pushed him gently over his couch " tuck your Little ego in your pocket for a while and just do as I say "

" what if I don't ?" Harry challenged.

Draco rolled his eyes heavily before he stood up and pointed at the door " then be my guest potter and leave. I Frankly don't care whatever you do but I'm just telling you the right thing to do so you don't say that I was an asshole about the whole thing when clearly you're the one who's being a baby "

“ i’m not being a baby “ harry huffed. 

“ then stay. You can probably get your ego back out and go in about an hour until your broken rib is healed a little bit “ draco commanded, going into the kitchen and getting harry a glass of water. 

“ wow, you can be caring “ harry rolled his eyes taking the glass of water from him. 

“ well you’d know if you weren’t so blinded with your immature hatred “ draco replied crossing his arms in front of him. 

“ whatever “ harry found himself replying in a losing argument. They stayed there for a few minutes in silence as harry gulped down the water slowly and then gave the glass back to draco. 

Draco left harry alone for a few minutes after that, finding more comfortable clothes for him and pillows so he could rest easy. 

“I better hope you’re not executing my murder plan “ harry grumbled from the living room. Draco had almost laughed but he didn’t just for the sake of not giving harry the satisfaction of actually being funny. 

Draco walked into the living room with all that he assumed harry might need and kept in front of him. 

“ those pants look incredibly tight and dirty, so just change into these, if they fit of course “ draco told

Harry looked at draco quizzically for a few seconds, looking in suspicion as to why he was actually being nice but when met with none he picked up the sweatshirt he had bought and tried putting it on, only failing to do so. 

“ need help ?” draco sarcastically asked. Harry rolled his eyes replying with an exaggerated no until he winced in pain. 

“ merlin you can’t let go of your ego for one bloody second, can you” draco taunted as he knelt down before and cautiously helped harry putting on the sweatshirt. 

“ i think your arm is bruised too ” draco mumbled when he had been putting on his sweatshirt. 

“ You know you think i’m egoistic, but i’m the least egoistic as i’ve been told” harry mumbled 

“ well of course why would the people tell the great harry potter that he’s egoistic, come on i wouldn’t tell a guy he’s egoistic if i swooned over him “ draco replied shrugging casually, pulling down his sweatshirt over harry’s waist. 

“ that’s not true “ harry narrowed his eyes at draco however couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually right. 

“ whatever you believe " Draco titled his head to the side in a small Bob before he got up " you can change into those pants. I'll leave you some privacy "

It was an unusual turn to the night when draco had offered him dinner and movie to watch with him while harry remained sprawled on the couch with a hot water bag tucked behind him, draco helping him adjust it every once in a while. If someone had seen them together that way they would laugh if told that they were enemies because of the way they had suddenly grew closer in an eventful nights. They learnt things about other that they could've only imagined off like draco learnt that harry liked to compartmentalise his food on the plate and that he liked to keep his work dull boring socks in an alternate pattern with colourful socks he had but the rest of his wardrobe remained mess, and the first thing he does when he gets out of shower is actually wear socks because he doesn't like walking barefoot and it wasn't just draco who learnt all of it, harry too learnt that draco had an entire bar collection of glasses he never let anyone use because he's afraid that someone would break it and lose one part of his collection,and that he have colour organised dresser, and that he prefer wearing steel toed boots because Someone always steps over his toes, and that he likes to sleep on the right side of the bed without an apparent reason. It was crazy how much more they learnt about each other and didn't fight over a single thing.

Draco had almost stopped the movie to discuss one part with harry when he noticed that harry had fallen asleep. Draco shut off the TV, helped harry more comfortably on the couch and covered him with more blankets; whispering a soft goodbye and left to sleep in his room. That night he had for the first time slept with a small smile because of harry, even if it seemed very unbelievable.

The next morning draco had left for work before harry had woken up, leaving him a message to not go before he returns but draco was probably sure harry wouldn't wake up anyways because of the heavy painkillers he was on.

The whole day draco had been in a strangely nice mood that he had even complimented his assistant who took it by surprise because draco rarely every complimented and not just that but even offered a smile to the lady at the reception instead of just a sneer. It was all too strange to someone who knew draco but then again, who infact really knew him. When the time came to return home, he had left early and had walked into a cinnamon smelling apartment.

" I hope you didn't use all of my cinnamon" draco called as he walked into the kitchen watching harry taking out cinnamon rolls from the oven.

" I did " harry shrugged.

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't do it out of frustration this time, but a sweet stupidity.

" people were asking about you around office" draco said as he sat down on one of the stools and poured himself a glass of water.

" I- I figured. I just don't wanna go to the office yet. I'll send them a letter. Also I'll leave tonight, I feel pretty good " harry nodded

Draco nodded stiffly, a part of him not wanting to let go of harry, just yet " or you can stay here. I mean there's no one to look after you anyway and I- Don't mind "

" well, if we clearly remember, you mind it a lot last night " harry teased.

" well I- I just- know what, do whatever you want. I don't mind " draco shrugged raising his hands defensively.

Harry shook his head smiling at draco, passing on the cinnamon rolls he made to him.

Draco strongly realised that the harry he worked with and the harry he came home to were two entirely different people and somewhere he also realised that he may have never hated harry but just despised him for everything he got, a tiny bit of jealousy involved but seeing this guy who made cinnamon rolls for him, made his heart melt a little more than he thought it would.

" can you just say it out loud- it's annoying me " harry rolled his eyes.

Draco chuckled, sucking in this finger tips then finally saying " these are really, really good "

" thank you " harry bowed with a grin then sat down next to draco.

" you know you're not a bad guy Outside work " harry said after a while, staring at draco.

" ditto " draco mumbled.

" no I mean, this is easy. Like just talking with you when there's no small cubicle nor my dingy office or without my stupid auror robes or your white coat. It's-"

" comfortable? " draco asked with a smile. Harry nodded at him with an equivalent smile.

They stared at each other for a moment too long, their hearts beating traitorously too fast in their chest and their fingers brushing past each other and just staying there in a mere presence of touch with other. It was like storm had washed over them and rinsed them off their past and made them see each other in a way that they had never looked at, so different that they realised they could probably look at each other for a very very long time.

" I never hated you " draco muttered.

" then why did you pretend you do ?" Harry asked leaning a bit.

Draco swallowed, peering his eyes at Harry's lips " it's easier to hate you "

" why ?" Harry asked, his eyes falling on the way draco's lips were moving.

" because then I don't have to think about how you make my heart race " Draco muttered in soft Whispers so only harry could hear.

" it's easier to pretend " harry agreed.

They stared at the distance between each other for far too long until they had only been a few inches apart and then draco put a hand on Harry's chest.

" I- maybe we should go on a date first "

Harry swallowed nodding " we should "

Draco nodded, repeating after harry but they kissed nonetheless and neither of them pulled back, maybe they had a small date with cinnamon rolls after all.

This took me far too long to write. Busy person tingz. I highly suspect, this won't get notes, I didn't like this one either.

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[straykidsreactions]

Reaction To: Their S/O Hugging Them During A Fight

S T R A Y   K I D S   R E A C T I O N   T O : You, their significant other, hugging them during a fight because you don’t want to argue anymore.

A/N: I hope it’s alright that I didn’t make this a gender specific reaction, by the time I realized you’d specified gender I’d already finished writing it😂 Sorry about that darling, and thanks for requesting! ❤️

Genre: a little Angst + Fluffy end

Chan: 

The likelihood that you and Chan actually ever fought was slim, most of your disagreements were minor and Chan wouldn’t be interested in verbal conflict with someone he loved- so getting to a place where a full-blown screaming match had broken out was an unwelcome rarity. It’d been over an hour at this point, and neither of you could really even remember why you’d gotten mad in the first place. It had started at Chan’s production studio when he’d promised to only be another hour, and 3 hours later you were both still there. It started the way fights with Chan always start, a lot of aggravated comments followed by tense silence- but it quickly escalated into raised voices and shouting hurtful things that neither of you really meant. The fight probably never would’ve gotten so out of hand if the two of you had just agreed to take a step back, or get some rest- but as it turned out the clock was striking 1:00am, you were both overtired, and the last straw had just dropped.

“Can’t you just handle not having everything be about you for 2 seconds, Y/N! Because I’m so tired of having to worry about you while I’m working! You’re supposed to be my (girlfriend/boyfriend) not my kid!”

“Are you serious!? I’ve been sitting here for over 4 hours waiting for you even though you know I have to get up early tomorrow and you’ll get pissed if I leave without you, Chan! I’m sick and tired of your career being more important every single time!” 

There were tears welling up in your eyes at this point as paced back and forth across the floor of his studio, silently thankful that the walls were sound-proof. You watched him as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and staring dejectedly at the floor. You could feel the tears in your eyes, half out of frustration and half from pure exhaustion- and you realized fighting wasn’t worth it anymore. Sighing, you walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and collapsing against him. Chan would be a little surprised at first, not expecting you to hug him after all the things you’d said to each other. After a moment, he’d smile softly to himself, running his hands over your hair and hugging your shoulders firmly against him. You’d just stand there together for a while, holding each other in comfortable silence as you pressed your cheek against his chest, listening to his relaxed heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry I upset you, Jagi...you know I love you. More than anything.”

*sighing softly to yourself as you nodded against his chest*

“...I don’t wanna fight anymore, Channie.”

*smiling to himself as he lifted your chin up to face him*

“Me either...let’s go, I’m done working- and maybe we can find a restaurant still open to grab some late dinner. How’s that sound, Jagi? Hmm?”

Minho: 

There was something exhilarating about a heated argument with Minho- and the reality was the two of you disagreed a lot. It was never on the big things, but when it came to the little things in life you rarely saw eye to eye and it was one of the things that made you such a good match- you balanced each other out. While a minor argument or dispute wasn’t uncommon, a full-fledged screaming match between the two of you was few and far between. Needless to say, however, they were anything but pretty. At this point neither of you could even remember what you were fighting over- somehow your date night at a little local cafe had been cut short, followed by a tense and silent car-ride, followed by escalated voices and offhanded comments that eventually lead to the two of you screaming at the top of your lungs in an otherwise empty dorm. 

“No I don’t even care anymore, Minho! I’m tired and you’re getting on my nerves, ok? Just take me home!”

“Yahh, you always do this, Y/N! Every time we fight you wanna leave and I let you but it’s stupid and childish!”

*you scoffed, running a hand through your hair as you paced back and forth across the living room*

“Oh I’m childish now? You’re the one who couldn’t even finish a simple date because you made yourself mad and wouldn’t talk to me the entire car ride home! We barely get to go out as it is! I’m so sick of your hot n cold attitude, Minho!”

Your raised voice was cracking at this point as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, Minho’s gaze never leaving yours as he clenched his jaw and stared you down. Neither one of you were much for giving in when it came to fights, even when the topic of your argument wasn’t worth the quarrel in the first place. You took a few short breaths, feeling your hands shake with frustration at the realization that more than being angry with your boyfriend, you were angry that you couldn’t spend more time with him. You both had busy schedules and he’d be back to promoting soon- that was always the hardest for the two of you; there was never enough time in the day for you both to follow your dreams and spend time together. Losing a grip on the emotions you’d been keeping at bay, tears began to freely stream down your cheeks as you quickly ran into your boyfriend’s arms. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the reconciling action from you as it was slightly out of character- but as soon as you did and he heard your soft, muffled sniffles every ounce of his frustration towards you evaporated. He’d immediately become overwhelmed with the same feelings of frustration that your dating life was anything but ordinary, as well as an immense feeling of love because somehow you made it all worth it.

“Baby...I’m sorry I was being a dick tonight. That wasn’t ok...I’m just stressed with our comeback and- I know that’s not an excuse...”

*taking a ragged breath in as you shook your head against his chest, pouting at the mere idea of letting go*

“It’s ok, Minnie...I’m sorry too. I was being childish and all those things I just miss-”

“Shh...”

*Minho interjected, rocking the two of you back and forth gently as he caressed your head*

“You don’t have to say anything, baby...I know.”

Changbin: 

In your relationship with Changbin, you could probably count on one hand the amount of real fights you’d had. Of course there were little disagreements from time to time, but in all honesty (despite his dark image) your Binnie is a pretty passive guy. It would take a lot to get him to a point of wanting to actually argue with you, most things he wouldn’t consider worth discussing and would opt for stuffing them down rather than causing a scene by bringing it up to you. On those rare occasions where the anger bubbled to the surface, however, things were anything but pretty. Unlike some of the others, it wouldn’t be difficult to tell when something had set your boyfriend off- there would be very little build up or awkward tension. When you and Changbin argued, it was explosive.

You should have known better, you knew that there were certain things that would set him off quickly, but you’d been just a little too lenient when a JYP trainee a few years your junior had started flirting with you. It seemed harmless to you, and though it was no secret that you were dating Changbin, somehow the memo hadn’t spread to this helpless guy yet. Maybe it was the fact that you’d entertained him for a moment too long, or maybe it was the fact that when you finally shut him down you were a little too polite- but whatever it was when Changbin took note of the situation he was quick to pull you away, his tight grip on your wrist never wavering until you’d made it to a completely different floor of the company building where his private studio was located. At the very least, Changbin was not the kind of guy to start anything in public.

“Y/N what the hell was that? Are you serious right now?!” 

You couldn’t decide what had you more enraged, the fact that he actually thought you were considering flirting with a guy you’d never met, or the fact that he had the audacity to be upset when he hadn’t paid you a single ounce of attention all day. It didn’t take long for voices to raise and accusations to be thrown, all of which had the two of you exhausted and fully drenched into a heated argument that seemed to go on for hours.

“You’re acting crazy, Bin, he was just talking to me and when he asked me out I told him no! What is up for debate here?”

*taking his hands out from his pockets as he gestured towards the door, his dark gaze burning into yours as he fired back*

“This isn’t about what you said, it’s the fact that you can’t just be firm with other guys! Why do you have to be so polite to every guy who approaches you, Jagi, hmm? They haven’t earned your kindness but you give it away like it’s nothing and they’ll get the wrong message!”

*rolling your eyes as you folded your arms in frustration*

“Everyone knows I’m with you I don’t see why-”

“What about when I’m not here, Jagi!” 

*interjecting harshly, hearing the slightest crack in your boyfriend’s voice as his stance wavered, suddenly noticing the hurt behind his angry eyes*

“What about when I’m on tour...when I can’t be here by your side, baby...you don’t think it drives me insane thinking about leaving you alone?”

Silence fell over the small room for a moment as your walls came crashing down, realizing that his anger really only stemmed from a deep-rooted fear of losing you. In that moment, there was nothing left to say, and all you really wanted was to hold him.

*pulling him into your arms as his body stiffened in shock, glancing at you before turning away at the surprise change in behavior*

“I...I don’t want a pity hug, Y/N...”

*shaking your head as you squeezed your arms around his torso even tighter*

“it isn’t a pity hug, Binnie...it’s an ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ hug. I’m not going anywhere...I promise.”

*hearing him sigh deeply, his body finally relaxing as he hugged you back, pulling you close against his chest*

“You better not.”

Hyunjin: 

Both you and Hyunjin had a tendency to be a bit over-dramatic at times, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t get annoyed at the other when it had to do with something trivial. Usually it was something you could laugh at and brush off easily- but for whatever reason you weren’t laughing that evening when Hyunjin made a big deal of the outfit you’d put on to go out and grab food. Arguments between the two of you were rare, mostly because he’s such a non-confrontational person, so any off-handed comments he made were never intended to start arguments or upset you. Most of the time instances like this were just simple miscommunications where Hyunjin would quickly apologize, so when he made a comment about how you seemed under-dressed in your hoodie and joggers, you’d fully expected him to clarify that he meant no offense by his snide little remark. When he didn’t back down, however, you’d feel a little attacked.

“What do you mean under dressed? We’re just going to pick up take out...am I supposed to put on a red carpet look to pick up dinner?”

“Aishh, don’t be so dramatic, I’m just saying there might be photographers around and I don’t know if that’s how you wanna look when you end up all over the internet...”

*laughing sarcastically as you shook your head, grabbing your wallet in frustration as you gave your boyfriend a wary look*

“Is this about how I’ll feel, or is this about you not wanting to be seen with someone like me?”

That was all you had to say for an hour long argument to quickly ensue, your takeout order long-since expiring as the two of you spat back and forth, neither of you really accustomed to the environment of arguing with one another but both of you unwilling to call it quits. 

“Y/N you know that isn’t what I meant why do you think I’d care about something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re this big super star who’s acting like suddenly you don’t wanna be seen with me unless I’m dressed to the 9′s- why’d you even bring something like that up when you know it’ll make me insecure!”

*taking off his ball cap momentarily to run a hand through his hair in frustration*

“Why are you acting like it’s such a bad thing to care about our image! It’s like you’re just asking for people to talk shit online! What don’t you get about me being worried, maybe you don’t see the mean comments but I do!”

It wasn’t until you looked up to see his watery eyes that you realized Hyunjin was on the verge of breaking, his soft soul exhausted from arguing and worried to death that someone might say something negative about the two of you online. You’d only ever focused on the flood of positive comments, you’d never stopped to think that maybe the few negative ones would strike a nerve with your boyfriend. 

“Jinnie...”

*murmuring under your breath as you fell into his arms, his warm embrace instinctively taking you in as you breathed in the warm smell of his cologne* 

“I’m sorry it’s been giving you a hard time, I didn’t know. You should’ve told me...” 

*feeling your boyfriend shake his head as he leaned his chin against your shoulder, breathing deeply as he pulled you against him*

“I didn’t want to worry you, baby...it’s stupid anyway, I’m sorry I blew up at you for something like that...forgive me?”

Jisung: 

Arguments between you and Jisung never really started as arguments, most of the time they were playful instances of teasing that had just been taken too far. He’d never intentionally meant to aggravate you, but that being said Han Jisung is a confrontational person and if an argument starts brewing between the two of you he isn’t the one to quickly diffuse the situation.

It had started harmlessly enough, the two of you were up late working on song lyrics for his upcoming album. Most of the time you helped him edit things that he’d written, but you wanted to take a stab at writing yourself and had begun to scribble down a few rough drafts on some note paper. Maybe it was the fact that it was late and you were both tired, mixed with the fact that you were still a bit self-conscious that your writing might not be good enough for your lyricist boyfriend, but when Jisung playfully snatched the notes you’d been working on to read something snapped in you. 

“Yahh, I wasn’t finished with those!” 

*jisung laughing as he waved the notes in your face, pulling them away playfully before you could grab them, not picking up on the frustration laced in your voice*

“Aww, did you write some lyrics of your own baby? Let me see, wahh- are they about me?”

*standing up from your seat as you feebly reached out to take your notes back, growing beyond frustrated when for the second time your boyfriend failed to realize that this was actually sensitive to you*

“Jisung please-”

“No let me read them! Maybe you’re the next big JYP producer, hmm?”

The teasing in his voice had no intention of actually hurting your feelings, but more than anything the fact that he couldn’t read the discomfort apparent on your face was the thing that set you off.

*your voice raising slightly in aggravation*

“Why don’t you ever listen to me!?”

The accusation was enough to get on Jisung’s nerves, and it wouldn’t take long for him to fire back. What had started as something playful had quickly devolved into a much larger argument. Most of it was baseless but you were both tired and feeling attacked by the other so, as most arguments of this sort do, it dragged on until both of you were tired and frustrated.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, Y/N, I don’t know why you always expect to be so harsh towards you I only ever wanna support you...”

*sighing as you looked at the notes of lyrics still in his hands*

“I just wanted you to respect my boundaries...maybe it’s easy for you to share stuff you write with other people but I’m not like that, Bunny.”

You were both silent for a moment before you felt exhaustion wash over you, and all the frustration you felt at the situation you’d now directed towards yourself for being so childish about something minor. Just as you were about to extend your arms to hug your boyfriend, however, you’d feel him pull you into a hug of his own. Jisung wasn’t the kind of guy to diffuse situations quickly or smoothly, but he’d always recognize when he was in the wrong and when things had gone too far. It may have been more difficult had it been with anyone else, but there was something about you that made Jisung putty in your hands- you were someone he never ever wanted to hurt.

*breathing in the smell of his freshly cleaned clothes and body wash as you leaned into his embrace*

“I’m sorry...”

*stroking your hair as he pressed a small kiss to your temple*

“I’m sorry too, baby. I should’ve been more careful...”

*pulling away from the hug momentarily as he glanced at the note paper still in his hand, smiling slightly behind his face mask as he held it up, causing you to smile in return*

“Still want this back, jagi?”

Felix: 

Neither you nor Felix were a fan of arguments, most of the time the two of you were pretty good about diffusing things before they got out of hand because you were both a bit sensitive when it came to confronting one another. It would take a lot for him to actually want to confront you about something, but that night in the dance studio just happened to be one of those times. 

You hadn’t intentionally spent more time with Jeongin than him, you were just trying to be a good friend to the youngest member who’d asked you to help with him with some of the more difficult choreography by filming him and going over the spots he’d missed. You hadn’t wanted to distract your boyfriend, who seemed to be in his own world practicing, so you’d opted for helping your friend. You had no idea that that alone was enough to distract Felix’s attention for the rest of the night, his eyes darting over to the two of you frequently. It wasn’t that he thought anything was actually going on, he knew you were friends with his members and a part of him liked that they considered you close enough to ask for your help during practice. He was mostly irked by the fact that you’d come with him, yet all your attention seemed to be so easily moved to someone else. While he wasn’t one to get overly dramatic when it came to issues of jealousy, Felix is definitely the kind of guy who likes showing you off- so it stung a little when you weren’t giving the attention he was hoping for. He wouldn’t intend to bring it up right then and there, but when you noticed him being uncharacteristically quiet and Jeongin made an off-handed comment he’d immediately be set off. 

“Hyung, is everything ok? You seem so quiet tonight!”

*jeongin laughing as he took a break from practicing, grabbing his water bottle and leaving the studio momentarily before Felix could had a chance to say something back*

“Y/N...come here please...”

*his low voice laced with frustration as you innocently walked over to him, unsure as to what had him so tense*

“Is everything ok, babe?”

*folding his arms as he stared back at you, his frustration at you in particular becoming more apparent with his body gestures*

“Am I supposed to be? My (girlfriend//boyfriend) hasn’t even looked at me all night, I thought you came here to watch me practice?”

His voice was quiet, he wasn’t one to get loud during a serious conversation unnecessarily (despite his usual carefree and vocal personality), especially when he knew another member could be in ear shot. Sometimes that’s what made arguments with him the scariest, his whole demeanor would shift. You were quick to explain that you’d only been helping a friend, but it was too late- you’d both become frustrated with the other and it quickly devolved into an argument. 

*both keeping your voices low on the off chance that Jeongin would walk back in*

“It isn’t that hard to just do what you say you’re gonna do, Y/N- I get that he’s your friend but I don’t know why everyone has to be more important than me...”

*sighing as you watched your boyfriend’s serious face crack slightly, hearing the creak of the studio door open as Jeongin walked back in and headed towards the opposite end of the room to resume practice*

Felix grew quiet, lowering his head as he fully expected you to walk away and go back to helping your friend. His eyes widened in shock when, much to his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a loving embrace. All the frustrations he’d been feeling immediately dissipated as Jeongin let out a teasing groan at the image of you and your boyfriend displaying affection, causing you both to laugh.

“Wh-what was that for, Y/N?” 

*smiling wide as his cheeks tinged red*

“I’m just sorry...and, I love you.”

Seungmin: 

To say that arguments between the two of you were rare would be an understatement. In fact, among all the members Seungmin would easily be the least interested in arguing with his significant other, he just rarely felt the need to bring something up in a confrontation way. In fact, if something did rise to the surface between the two of you, there wouldn’t be much dialogue at all. Neither of you were a fan of screaming matches or saying hurtful words unnecessarily, so more than anything things would just become tense and silent between the two of you.

In all honesty you couldn’t even remember what had started the mutual silent treatment to be exact, but you knew that Seungmin had been very dismissive of your questions about the Mnet performance on the car ride home and that had frustrated you. In the same vein, he’d become aggravated because he’d really only wanted some peace and quiet. Maybe he should have been more understanding of your curiosity, and maybe you should have been more understanding of his exhaustion, but either way it had quickly devolved into both of you growing angry with the other. When you finally got back to the apartment, you were quick to leave the common area and sit down in another room all together, folding you arms in frustration at your boyfriend’s behavior. When he entered the room behind you, knocking gently against the already open door frame, you glanced up, nodding halfheartedly as he walked in.

“Are we gonna talk about this or are you just gonna stay in here and be upset with me?”

*his voice calm despite clearly still being frustrated*

“I just wanted to ask about the performance...you never tell me about it and I’m just trying to show interest in your job, y’know...you always treat me like I’m stupid for not knowing stuff about the music industry...”

The last part came out as barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, jagiya, I was just tired...I didn’t mean to make you feel like your questions weren’t important...”

He leaned down slightly until he was at your eye level, watching as your face slowly shifted from one of anger and hurt to one of loneliness. You’d always made a point to ask so many questions because it made you feel sloer to him and his work, but you’d immediately felt bad when you realized that maybe it was exhausting him unnecessarily. In a heartbeat the entire dispute felt pointless, and you pulled at the collar of your boyfriend’s button up as he collapsed against you into a warm hug. He let out a soft chuckle, reciprocating your embrace.

“I’ll be more understanding in the future, Minnie...I promise.”

*hushing you softly as he held you against him*

“It’s ok, Y/N...I should’ve never made you feel that way, Minnie’s sorry.”

Jeongin: 

Arguments between you and Jeongin weren’t entirely unheard of, you both tried your best not to let little things upset you but occasionally something would come up that left you both feeling dejected and annoyed. Your boyfriend was a master of trying to find the positives even in difficult and frustrating situations, it was just his way of handling hard situations. Most of the time you loved this about him, but it could become frustrating at times when you were trying to vent about something difficult going on in your life and he was only trying to find the positives. He hadn’t meant to act as though he were over-looking your struggles, he was only trying to give you positive feedback, but in the moment it had felt a little impersonal and disrespectful towards your situation. 

“Jeongin please just let me talk, ok?”

*you blurted out, slightly louder than you’d intended*

“I am letting you talk, what’re you talking about? I’m on your side, Y/N.”

It wasn’t the traditional sense of an argument, there was no yelling matches or insults fired back and forth, it was more of a frustrated conversation at best. Never the less, you were upset at his approach to handling your problems, and he was upset that you’d chosen to take out your frustrations on him. After 15 minutes or so of tirelessly going back and forth at what was quickly becoming a repetitive and somewhat unimportant arguing point- you took a step back, falling silent.

“What’d I do now, Y/N...did I say something wrong again?”

*shaking your head softly*

“You know I wasn’t trying to talk over you...or make you feel like what you were saying wasn’t important...”

*you nodded in response, growing tired of arguing as your boyfriend let out an aggravated sigh*

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say-”

Before he could say anything else, you collapsed your head against his shoulder and slid your arms around his torso, pulling him into a warm hug. His body stiffened for a moment before relaxing against your affectionate gesture, smiling brightly as the Jeongin you knew and love resurfaced.

“Y-you don’t have to hug me if you’re still mad at me, Y/N, really-”

“Shhh, I don’t wanna argue anymore, Jeonginnie...please.”

*nodding as he pulled you against him even closer, resting his head on top of yours*

“I love you, Jagi.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet uglies, 41, Sternclay, NSFW?

Here you go! And if you're a fan on "Let me be good to you" this has very similar vibes.

41: I’m at the 24/7 gym at 2 in the morning and I thought I was alone so I’m singing in the showers, but when you start singing with me, I’m startled and slip so the first time we meet, we’re both wet and naked

Stern blames the playlist he had on at work for the fact his morning devolves into chaos. He works better to the blues (or 2000s pop hits, but those don’t feel right when going over files on suspicious incidents in Appalachia). So he hums as he rinses the remnants of his workout down the drain. He’d never sing where someone can hear, but since no one is here.

I want a little steam on my clothes

Maybe I could fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter daddy, come on, save my soul

He goes to rinse his hair and realizes the song is still going.

I need some sugar in my bowl, I ain't foolin'

I want some sugar in my bowl

His lizard brain yells two separate messages; “baritone voice very hot” and “oh god who’s there.”

The second message leaps into the driver seat and, in his attempt to turn, peer out of the stall, and be sure it’s just another patron, his foot finds the traces of soap on the floor.

“Shit” He falls backwards out of the stall, thudding to the floor.

“Oh fuck.” A man emerges two stalls to his left, soaking wet and flailing for a towel, “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so used to singing along with the radio. Are you okay?”

Joseph scans his body, finds nothing broken, “Yes.”

“Thank god.” The other man flicks shaggy hair from his face. In the split second before he gets the towel around his waist, Joseph’s gym manners fail him and he glances down. At least he’s getting several weeks worth of masturbation fodder from this humiliating moment.

“Here man, lemme help you up.”

Joseph takes the offered hand, then grits his teeth and swiftly turns to grab his own towel from where he hung it. He’d rather not show a stranger his ass, but this is how his night is going. As he turns back, he spots the other man quickly redirecting his stare from his ass to the floor.

Once both showers are off, Joseph changes and packs his bag. The stranger is at the mirror, tying his hair back and combing his beard.

“I’m sorry, my singing probably startled you too.”

A shrug of broad shoulders, “I work in kitchens, I’m so used to background noise some of it barely registers. And I always have the radio on when it’s just me in the mornings.”

“Hence the singing along?”

“Yeah, and why I’m here so early. I try to get my exercise in before work. Gotta admit, when I joined this gym I didn’t expect anyone else would be in for a 2 a.m workout.”

“My hours are all over the place. I’m with the FBI and when I’m on a case I tend to, um, lose track of time. Or work way later than I should.” He shoulders his bag, raises his hand in a wave, “it was nice meeting you. Even it was alarming at first.”

“Same to you” the man smiles at him over his shoulders, “and if you’re ever here at zero dark thirty again and want a gym buddy, I’m happy to keep you company.”

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

It’s a month before Joseph runs into him again. He swipes his card at the gym, finds the clank of a weight rack in place of the usual silence. The man from the showers smiles at him as he puts his bag near medicine balls, and when he’s done with his set he crosses the 80s-colored carpet to join him.

“It’s much nicer to see you when I can see you coming.” Joseph smiles politely, not catching his own subtext until the other man blushes.

“No kidding. I, uh, this may sound weird, but could I work-out with you? I’ve been doing the same routine for years because it’s what I know, but it gets so fucking boring.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company, though be warned that I do a lot of core and don’t use the machines all that much.”

“Totally fine. I’m, uh, I’m Barclay, by the way.” He holds out his hand and Joseph pictures twisting it behind his back while pinning him over one of the benches.

Instead, he shakes it, “Joseph.”

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

“I’m serious about skipping this if you need to” Joseph starts up the treadmill as Barclay jogs on the one beside him, “if you’re on your feet all day at work this could make that really uncomfortable.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

It’s the truth; he may not be as in-shape as Joseph, but he’s still pretty fit, and they only do thirty minutes of running. But it’s equally true that he’d rather suffer some extra-sore legs than lose out on a half-hour of his limited time with his friend.

He’d been hoping for someone to spot him and maybe teach him some new lower body exercises, with the added bonus of having some basic things (like music taste and bonkers work schedules) in common. What he’s gotten is someone with a dorky sense of humor, and extensive knowledge of cryptozoology and mystery novels, and the stamina to make engaging conversation about those things while running or working a rowing machine.

It helps that Joseph is so hot that he could caramelize sugar just by looking at it. The glimpses he caught of him when they met were tantalizing; the way his dark hair gradually loosens from it’s gelled state, the way his cheeks turn pink when flushed and sweating, the few times his voice turns truly breathless? Barclay is ready to get on his knees and beg for him to do obscene things in the locker rooms.

What makes this desire impossible to shake is the suspicion that it’s shared. He’s caught Joseph looking at him in a way that isn’t just about his form, and when he shows Barclay a new exercise he stands closer and lingers longer than strictly necessary. And his Freudian slips are so frequent and obvious they may as well be Freudian nightgowns.

Just when he thinks Joseph can’t get any hotter, the agent texts him around their three month mark of working out together warning that he’ll be late. When he arrives, Barclay drops the five pound plate he was moving.

Joseph hasn’t changed clothes. He’s in a full, black suit, shined shoes, and a silver and blue tie that Joseph wants him to take off and loop around Barclays throat instead. The agent smiles with a promise to be right back, seems bemused when he returns to find Barclay in the exact spot and position he left him.

“You okay, big guy?” The nickname is one of the many ways he built a home for himself in Barclays daydreams.

“Uh. Uh, yeah, sorry, got lost in thought. I haven’t started on the full workout, did some extra stretching since I’m kinda tight from yesterday. You wanna do weights first?”

“Sure.”

Their routine lasts about an hour. It’s an act of god that Barclay gets through it unscathed. Joseph is even more hands-on than usual, and his cologne (bergamot and citrus, if Barclay has his scents right) hasn’t had a chance to fade. The most distracting element of the whole morning is his friend’s voice; there’s an edge to it, like a knife in a velvet sheath, and Joseph gives fewer suggestions and more orders.

Barclay wants him to sound like this forever. But only if he can rearrange his life so that he can follow every command.

After a very cold shower, he falls in next to Joseph as they push through the double doors into the warm night. When he reaches his car, the other man touches his cheek.

“Drive safe, big guy.”

He wonders if Joseph can feel him blush in the dark, “I will, agent. I promise.”

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

“I told them to get those dark spots checked” Joseph shakes his head at the notice on the door informing them the gym will be closed for the next two weeks to repair massive water damage in the ceiling.

“I’m just bummed I won’t get to work out with you. It’s not as fun alone in my apartment.”

“You could come over to mine, if we can find a time where it works.”

“I’d love to.”

Barclay double checks that the address on the apartment in front of him matches the one Joseph sent, while trying not to fixate on the text that came with it.

Joseph: Be ready, big guy, I’m going to work you hard

He knocks on the designated door, pushes it open when Joseph calls for him to come in. There’s a yoga mat on the floor and a stationary bike in the corner, and far too little space for two grown men to work out together.

“Do you want me to help move the couch? That might give us...more...room.”

Joseph, in his full suit and dress shoes, leans against the kitchen doorway with a confident smile.

“Y-you’re not working out with me, are you?” Barclay’s hopes hurry to the front of his brain, tripping up his tongue.

“No. I did mine earlier today.” He runs a finger along Barclay’s chest, “I designed a special one, just for you. If you get through it all, you get a reward.”

“What kind?”

Joseph leans in to kiss him softly and swiftly, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

Barclay’s hands fly out to grips his shoulders as he groans, “fuck, babe, really?”

“Really. But first, you have to pick two things from this list.” He hands Barclay a sheet of memo paper with a neatly written list of the lewdest exercises he’s ever seen. He’d offer to do all of them, but then he might not have enough energy to enjoy his reward.

“The, uh, the push ups and the crunches.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?”

“Okay, big guy, we’ll do those. Get on the mat, push up position.”

Barclay hurriedly obeys. Freshly shined shoes step onto the top edge of the mat.

“We’ll just do thirty today. I’ll count. Ready?”

He nods.

“Good boy. Down, one”

Barclay bends his elbows, only stopping when his lips touch the top of Joseph’s shoes. He holds there a two-count, then rises.

“Down, two.”

He repeats the motion, keeps time with Joseph’s count as a hint of polish curls into his nose. It should be boring, maybe even degrading, but fuck him if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s done in years. Joseph is so put together, so poised, Barclay feels like an unkempt beast next to him in his gym clothes. Yet he’s letting him kiss his lovingly shined shoes, telling him he’s a good boy as he works up a sweat.

“Down, thirty.” Joseph joins him on the floor as Barclay sits back on his heels, “well done. Now, on your back please.”

Barclay lays down. Joseph grabs a silver item from the side table and holds it in front of him. It takes his lust-glazed brain a second to grasp it’s a cock cage.

“Can I put this on you? You’ll have to wear it the rest of the workout.”

“Ohfuckplease.”

Joseph leans forward enough to kiss his chest, then shifts his shorts down to his thighs and locks the cage into place.

“If you need to stop, just say red. Okay?”

He nods frantically.

“Okay?” Joseph repeats with a stern look.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” Joseph lifts his legs and sets them over his left shoulder. Barclay whimpers as there’s a snap of a latex glove and a pop of lube. Joseph smirks as Barclay whines at his teasing touches.

“Two sets, forty each. Go ahead and count in your head.”

“Okay” He curls his body, only gets through two more crunches before a finger presses in. “fuck!”

“Focus, big guy.” Joseph kisses his knee.

“I am, I’m focusing on the fact you’re a fucking genius.”

“If you lose count, you’ll have to start over” he presses in the second finger, “and that means longer until your reward.”

“I’m, I’m on twenty!”

A kiss to his calf, “Keep going.”

By the time he hits the second “forty” his legs are burning and Joseph is stretching his ass open with three fingers. He pulls them free but keeps Barclays legs in place, tugs the glove off and removes a blue, silicone plug from his jacket pocket . It slides in comfortably, but Barclay whimpers his name all the same.

“You’re doing so well Barclay. Are you ready to keep being my good boy?”

“Yes, please yes.”

Joseph sets his legs on the floor, guides him to his knees so he can pull his shorts up, and then helps him to his feet, pausing to kiss him sweetly and run his lips along his neck.

“Twenty minutes on the bike. Whatever speed you like.”

Barclay eases himself onto the seat, starts pedaling and watches longingly as Joseph heads into the kitchen saying he'll be back in a minute. The plug isn’t too uncomfortable to sit on, so this should be a breeze.

He hunches forward with a moan as it starts vibrating. Joseph strides back into the room, remote control in hand, only stopping to give Barclay another kiss and run his fingers through his hair before dropping onto the couch.

“Let me know when you’re done.” He picks up a copy of Empire and starts reading, heedless of Barclay’s increasingly loud moans.

The vibrator starts and stops, sometimes a gentle buzz and sometimes a furious pulse, and Barclay fights to keep the pedals going under the onslaught, desperate not to lose time and eager to please the man stealing tender, hungry glances at him from the couch.

“Time” He gasps, pulling his feet free from the pedals. Joseph is up and to him before his legs have a chance to wobble. Once he’s on the couch, shirt soaked with sweat, Joseph straddles him and kisses him demandingly, mouth moving from lips to cheek to neck without a care for sweat.

“Will you be a good boy and let me get off on you?”

“You know I fuckin will, fuck, babe, wanna be so fuckin good for youAH, ohgod” He throws his arms around Joseph, clinging and groping as he grinds on the cage and the aching cock within it.

“You look so good like this big guy, exhausted and obedient for me.”

“Yes, yesyes all for you, Joseph, please cum on me.”

“I will baby, don’t worry.” He brushes their lips together, “do you want some more kisses while I do.”

“Uhhuh” He whines, the noise only growing as Joseph kisses him and works his hips recklessly, his hands slipping up Barclays shirt to squeeze his pecs and toy with his nipples. When the tempo of his jerking hips changes, Barclay holds him tighter, needing to feel the way his body tenses and shudders as he cums more than he’s needed anything in his life.

“There” Joseph grins, panting, and pulls the key to the cage from his breast pocket, “now you can have your reward.” He slides to the floor, yanking Barclays shorts with him on the way. The cock cage hits the carpet and then a wet, enthusiastic mouth swallows him almost to the root.

“Ohfuck, Joseph, babe I’m gonna cum in like two seconds you, you might wanna-”

The agent pulls off, lazily licking the head, “I don’t want cum on the carpet, big guy. So be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

He gets exactly three and a half ecstatic thrusts into Joseph’s mouth before his orgasm knocks the breath from him and he cums, moaning out thanks as he does. When he’s spilled the last of it, Joseph sits back, breathing deep and wiping his lips.

“J-joseph? Will you, uh, will you kiss me again?”

The other man clambers into his lap, bitter taste on his tongue when Barclay glides his own against it. When he finally stops to breathe, Joseph pets his beard.

“Was all that okay?”

“So fucking okay. It was incredible. I, I feel so fucking good. Sweaty, but good.”

A kiss on the cheek, “Shower is just down that hall. Go get clean while I order dinner.”

“Okay.” Barclay looks at him with dreamy hope, “do you, uh, wanna do this again sometime?”

“Often. If, um, if that’s okay with you?”

Barclay nods, “as long as we can still work out together? I like doing that with you.”

“Of course, big guy.”

[adenei]

Ch. 2 How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

AO3 | FFN

James rolls out of bed after the third snooze of his alarm clock. He knows exactly how long he can wait until he has to get out of bed so he won’t be late for work. Sometimes he misses living with Sirius and Remus, who used to help make sure he was up and at ‘em on time.

Stretching, James releases a groan as he goes to the bathroom and turns the water on for a shower. At least I’m not competing for hot water anymore. He steps into the scalding hot spray. He’s barely been living on his own for a month, and has to admit the perks certainly outweigh the drawbacks. Besides, they still work together for Alastor’s Ads, so it’s not like they never see each other.

After a quick lather and rinse, James steps out and towels off. He figures he has a good ten minutes to floo to the office. He’s pulling clothes out of his closet when Remus’s Patronus bursts through the window.

Get to the office. Now.

“Well, that doesn’t sound foreboding or anything,” he mutters to himself.

He quickly dresses and grabs his bag before heading to the fireplace. He’ll have to take a mid-morning break to get a bite to eat since the wolf interrupted his usual routine. Tossing the powder into the hearth, he steps in and transports himself to the office.

Sirius and Remus are waiting for him when he arrives, with looks of concern donning their faces.

“What’s got your wands in a twist this morning?” James assumes it’s not dire, and that Remus only sent the Patronus as a stern reminder for timeliness.

“It’s the Zabini Jewels pitch,” Sirius responds.

The name raises the hairs on the back of James’s neck.

“What about it?” he plays it cool.

The three men begin walking to James’s office, where Remus shuts the door after they all pile in.

“Well, the good news is that Moody liked your pitch,” Remus states, clearly easing James in as he begins.

Alastor Moody is the owner of Alastor’s Ads. After a mission with the Aurors put him out of commission, Moody opened an advertising business to do something with his settlement claim. He knew how corrupt the advertising business can be, so he set out to make the industry a little more honest, consequently weeding out the shadier businesses in the process. In the ten years since the company opened, it’s risen to the top spot of marketing in Magical England.

James’s position typically consists of wooing clients from magical games and sports and the food and spirits industry, but he’s recently begun dabbling in businesses outside his forte. Zabini’s is an up and coming jewelry shop with a lot of money backing its name. James submitted the proposal to Moody earlier that week, hoping to hear whether he would be the one to move forward with the pitch.

“Why do I sense there’s a but…” James trails off.

“Well…” Remus grimaces.

“Oh, come off it! If you’re not going to tell him, then I will!” Sirius interjects. “Moody’s given the pitch to my cousins!”

“No!” James bangs his fist on his desk, causing some of the hot young interns who are standing by the water cooler to jump and turn around.

James relaxes enough to flash a charming smile their way as he turns back to his best friends. “That was my proposal! I should be the one who meets with Zabini!”

“We know. But Moody said something about women ‘knowing and understanding’ the business more,” Remus attempts to calm James.

“That’s bullshit! Maybe they’re the ones who receive the jewelry, but blokes are the ones who buy it!”

“I know, mate.” Sirius throws his hands in the air, indicating he’s not the one James needs to argue with.

James is pissed. He’s worked too hard on this proposal for Moody to give the pitch to someone else. I’m not going down without a fight.

“Where are they?”

“They already left for a meeting at Witch Weekly.”

“Well, when are they meeting with Moody?”

“At Abbott's tonight,” Sirius answers automatically. Remus shoots him a look.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

James looks down at his desk. Memos are piling up from existing clients, but he can’t be arsed to worry about those right now. He needs to sign Zabini. It will be the breakthrough he needs to stand on his own in the business, and a way to finally prove to himself that he doesn't need to rely on his parent’s wealth.

A look of determination crosses his face. “I’m going to crash their meeting and sell my pitch.”

Sirius holds up his hand for a high five as Remus winces. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going down without a fight.”

James sits at a small cocktail table, sipping on a firewhisky at Abbott’s, a swanky magical speakeasy tucked away in the heart of Muggle London. The walls are painted an elegant navy blue that stands in stark contrast with the white marble floor, giving off an air of class and wealth that James has always refused to engage in. Gold trim lines the backlit shelves that house bottles upon bottles of expensive alcohol for the bar’s many eager patrons.

Business starts to pick up as the night drones on, and James can’t help but notice how many beautiful women are out on this fine Thursday night. If he didn’t have a pitch to snag, he might be on the prowl, looking for a good time. But he’s already limiting himself to one drink so he can keep his mind clear, but that’s not to say the alcohol isn’t tempting.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” Moody’s gruff voice can be heard from across the room.

James immediately stands up on his boss’s arrival. Ordinarily, he’d hold out his hand in greeting, but Moody’s always been a suspicious man, so he forgoes the gesture.

“I heard you accepted my proposal for Zabini’s Jewels.”

“Yes, and it’s my intention to give the pitch to Narcissa and Andromeda.”

“Why, sir?” James asks. He’s about to continue when another voice juts in.

“Why what?” Andromeda asks.

As if on cue, the Black sisters appear.

“What’s he doing here?” Narcissa quickly follows.

“It’d only be fair if the person who submitted the proposal has a hand in acquiring the pitch,” James says as suavely as he can, ignoring the ladies’ interjection.

“Ha!” Andromeda scoffs, “James couldn’t possibly know enough about what women like to know how to sell jewels.”

“Yes, I don’t think he’s ever had a proper girlfriend to buy jewelry for,” Narcissa adds with a smirk.

“Ah, but there’s the catch. You may think it’s all about what women want. But does a man consult his girl when he’s out to buy her a ring?” James doesn’t give either woman a chance to respond before he answers for them. “Exactly. You’re not just looking at it from the angle of ‘what a woman wants.’ One has to consider the man who’s shopping for his girl, and that is where I come in.”

Moody is listening raptly to James’s argument, which seems like a good sign. James notices Andromeda and Narcissa share a nervous glance, and he knows his ideas are being received better than the women assumed.

“Potter brings up a good point,” Moody says. “Every other advertising company always focuses on the woman, but this has potential.”

“Can’t you see it now? We’d include the women in the slogan, of course: ‘Zabini’s Jewels, where dreams come true.’” James lifts his hands to outline an imaginary sign that bears his ideas.

“Please, you’ve never been in a relationship long enough to even contemplate any of that!” Narcissa smacks her hand on the table in annoyance. “How do you know what it’s like shopping as a man in love? You’d be an imposter!”

“Am I really an imposter if I’m simply waiting for the right woman to come along?” James raises his eyebrows to match the smooth sound of his voice.

“Says the guy who’s only rival for the one-night stand trophy is Sirius,” Andromeda says.

To be honest, that jab hurts. For years, James has had the image of ‘womanizer’ placed on his head, even since his Hogwarts days. Sure, he’s a flirt, but he’s definitely not the type of bloke to bring home a different woman every night.

“That’s not entirely true and you know it. I have fun, but not that much fun.”

“Prove it, then,” Narcissa crosses her arms in front of her chest in indignation.

“How?”

“Prove you’re capable of a serious relationship. That you can win a witch over and make her fall in love with you. Unless you don’t think you can handle anything more than taking a woman to bed,” Andromeda goads.

James is never one to back down from a challenge, but he worries the girls are doing this to throw him off his agenda. “I would gladly accept if this had anything to do with the Zabini pitch, but—”

“That’s an interesting offer,” Moody’s gruff voice interjects. All three look at him. “If you’re this cutthroat about winning a jewelry pitch, let’s have some fun with it. We’ve been invited to attend a gala that Zabini is hosting a week from Saturday. Find a woman and bring her as your date. If you can make her fall in love with you, you get the pitch. If you fail, the ladies win.”

“But how will you know he’s not paying the girl to fake it?” Narcissa pouts.

“I always know the truth,” Moody says. His glass eye is twitching in all directions as he stares at James with his good one.

Now, this is an interesting turn of events. James contemplates what Moody’s said. There has to be an easier way to shed the girls off his client, but his mind is coming up empty.

You did say you’d do anything earlier, didn’t you?

Yeah, he supposes he did.

“Alright, deal.”

“But we get to pick your lucky lady!” Andromeda interjects.

“What? No! I didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh, come on, it has to be someone completely neutral. We can’t have you calling up a friend and faking it, now can we?” Narcissa reasons.

Ugh, fuck them.

“I’ll allow it,” Moody says, as the girls begin scanning the room.

“Hmm, Cissy, who should we choose?”

“I don’t know, Andie, there are so many people here tonight. It’s bound to be tough. What about that one over there in the neon yellow dress with the black platform shoes?”

James groans. This is going to be a disaster.

“Or the overly eager woman by the bar in the too-tight green dress, downing her third martini of the night.” Andromeda smirks.

“Come on, ladies, let’s try and be fair here.” James makes the request, even though he’s not convinced they’ll listen.

“What about—” Narcissa begins to point out another woman, whom James is sure would never work, when Andromeda cuts her off.

“I’ve found her.”

Narcissa turns her head on a swivel, looking around with increased interest. “Who?”

“There, on the other end of the bar. Long auburn hair in the little black dress. She’s sipping on a cosmo.”

No fucking way.

James follows Andromeda’s eyeline until it falls on a very gorgeous, very familiar face. Lily Evans. His former Gryffindor schoolmate and long-time crush.

At first, James’s mind is screaming an adamant NO. That ship sailed during seventh year when he finally gave up his pursuit of Lily and settled with sixth year Hufflepuff Bridgette Carmicheal instead. It wasn’t until the end of term that he overheard Lily insisting that whatever feelings she thought she might have for him were gone.

‘He chose Bridgette, Marls. I strung him along for too long, and I lost my chance. I’m over it.’

Those words still sting as they hover in the back of his mind. James recalls breaking up with Bridgette within the week, hopeful that it wasn’t too late. But then Bridgette had taken the break-up horribly, and he knew going for Lily the next day wasn’t a good idea. Then graduation came and went, and he hasn’t seen her since.

Seeing her standing there now, his heart leaps into his throat. She’s just as beautiful as ever, and all those feelings he thinks he’s finally gotten over are back, like a tornado completely upending his life. This could be his chance—their chance—to finally make a go of things. The thoughts begin whirring in his mind of ways to win her over.

“Done.”

Before James realizes what he’s doing, he’s standing up, and his feet are carrying him over to where she’s sipping on her drink. She doesn’t see him coming.

“Evans,” he croons as he sidles up next to her.

Her body stiffens when she hears his voice. James hasn’t thought what her reaction might be upon seeing him for the first time in years. Well, it’s too late to back out now. I’ve got a pitch to win and a second shot with the girl of my dreams.

She turns around after a moment, her face impassive, but not unwelcoming.

“Potter.” She’s eyeing him up and down. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, since when? Graduation?”

“Something like that,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

“What brings you to Abbott’s?” James would rather know how often she comes here, but he keeps that question to himself.

“It’s been a long week, and I needed a night out. You?”

“Same.” James contemplates what’s made this week long, and is about to ask when Lily continues without prompting.

“Though I forget how stuffy this place can be,” Lily sighs, “Marlene and Alice convinced me to come, but I can’t say I’m having much success in tonight’s pursuits. And I’m starting to think they’ve ditched me. Though, I suppose all’s fair in love and war when you enter the dating game. Don’t you agree?”

Her comment almost throws James off as he looks down at the hand holding her cosmopolitan. He breathes a sigh of relief and thanks Merlin that there’s no ring on her finger. So, she’s looking for a good time tonight, is she? Well, I can certainly show her a good time—and then some—if she’ll let me.

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says in an attempt to continue engaging her in conversation.

She makes the effort to look around the room. Now is his chance to make a move.

“You hungry?”

Lily observes him carefully. James can tell she’s closed off and knows he needs to reassure her that it’s innocent, for now…

“C’mon, Evans, it’s just dinner. Catching up can’t hurt, can it?” He pauses for a moment before making the split-second decision to add, “I’ve missed you.”

It’s true. Standing here with Lily now, James wonders how he coped over the past three years. He thought he’s been managing just fine, but her presence brings back everything he’s so desperately missed about her. James doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he sees her relax. Her eyebrows soften and the smallest smile plays at the corners of her lips.

She sets her almost empty glass down on the bar before sliding off her stool. “Well, Potter, how can I resist when you put it like that? Lead the way.”

James can’t help the grin that spreads on his face. He holds out his arm as Lily gingerly latches on. Her touch sends a tingle up his spine as they move toward the doors.

Before he forgets, James takes a quick glance back at Moody, Andromeda and Narcissa. He flashes a smirk that he hopes says ‘you’re going down’ before turning back to the beautiful woman on his arm. After ten years of pining, he’s finally got Lily Evans right where he’s always wanted her, and he’s determined not to ruin this second chance.

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter eight)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing

wordcount: 4.2k it’s been a while buckle up 

gif from @poguemackin​

_

Rafe showed up to class on Monday with more nerves than he ever had, unsure of what Sophie’s reaction would be. After having a long heart-to-heart with James and Colin (though he would never call it that), he had come to terms that maybe, just maybe, he liked Sophie Flint more than a friend. He was determined to try, telling himself he would be patient when she would try to argue like always and that he would give it a chance. For once. 

Sophie didn’t seem to get the memo. 

She barely greeted him, only offering a half-smile when she sat next to him - unusually late, only there one minute until class was meant to start. “Running late today?” Rafe elbowed her with a grin.

“Guess so.” She shrugged, head down as she started scrawling into her notebook while their professor started teaching.

He frowned, caught off guard by her cold demeanor, given that they were cuddled together in a bed just under 48 hours ago. “Just teasing, Soph.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes down. “I know.” 

The rest of the class continued like that, Rafe resisting every single urge in his body to tear off a piece of paper and slide her a note. (She’d probably find it annoying, and it wasn’t middle school, anyways.) At the end of class, she didn’t even bother to pack her bag, just gathered her things into her arms and hurriedly left before he even had a second to say goodbye. As promised, he met James to walk to their next class together, looking completely lost. 

“How’d it go?” James asked Rafe with a grin, reaching out to knuckle his fist against Rafe’s hair. 

Rafe ducked out from under him and shoved his arm away, scowling. “Not good. She barely even looked at me, let alone talked to me.” 

“Oh.” James frowned. “Maybe she was just tired? It is kind of early.” 

“Nah, she at least smiles at me. Or have some smart comeback and she didn’t even try today.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about how she avoided him. 

“Huh. Text her and see if she’s okay.” James urged. 

“She probably wouldn’t like that.” Rafe hesitated, but took out his phone anyways. “I don’t want her to think I’m annoying.” 

“Then wait and text her later today. It’ll be fine, dude, don’t stress about it.” 

“I’m not stressed!” Rafe argued. 

James rolled his eyes and grabbed Rafe’s wrist, not letting go when Rafe objected and shoved up his sleeve. He inspected the peeling leather on Rafe’s watch band and dropped his arm, shaking his head. “You scratch up the leather on this when you’re stressed out. And those are new marks.” 

Rafe yanked his sleeve back down over the watch. “I didn’t think you picked up on that.” 

“Well Colin pointed it out first, but now I notice whenever you do it.” James shrugged. “It’s Sophie. She’ll come around.” 

“How are you so sure about this?” 

James shrugged again. “Like we said yesterday. You two are like, magnetic or some shit. There’s no way it won’t work out.” 

_ 

“He didn’t say a single thing to me all class!” Sophie exclaimed the second she walked through the door, huffing as the door slammed shut behind her. 

Both Allie and Julia lifted their heads from their work at their desks, completely unfazed by her loud entrance. She had recapped the events of the night (that she could remember, at least) yesterday morning over brunch, several mimosas, and they both had to talk her down from marching over to the Delt house right that second and asking for answers from Rafe. 

“Not one thing?” Julia asked, skeptical. 

Sophie flopped down dramatically onto the beanbag in the corner. “Well, okay, maybe a few things, but that was it. It’s like he didn’t even try.” 

Allie raised her eyebrows and shut her laptop. “What exactly did he say, Soph?” 

“He asked if I was running late, because, you know, I showed up later -” 

“So you wouldn’t have to talk to him.” Julia pointed out. 

“Only because he didn’t text me at all!” Sophie cried out, shooting a pointed glare her way. “And then he said he was just teasing and that was it.” 

“Did you give him room to respond?” Allie asked gently, trying to get her to see through her flawed logic. 

Sophie huffed, crossing her arms. “Probably.” 

“Oh, probably, that’s a solid answer.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want something with him or not?” 

“I…” Sophie faltered, thinking. “I mean, maybe, but not if he can’t even text me after we slept together.” 

“Well how big is he?” Julia grinned. 

Allie reached across the desk, swatting her arm. “Jules!”

“What?!” 

Sophie groaned, covering her face as a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t even know, guys, I told you I can’t remember anything after we got back to his house. I just remember trying to kiss him and then I woke up in his t-shirt.” She gasped. “Oh my god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Julia frowned. 

“What if I was that bad? Oh god, what if I was genuinely so terrible that he literally never wants to talk to me again? I can’t really walk when I’m drunk, so I’m probably not even good at fucking -” 

“Stop, stop!” Allie laughed, throwing a pencil at her from across the room. “I don’t want to hear the details. Are you even sure you hooked up?” 

“Yeah, why else would I be wearing his shirt?” Sophie reasoned. Her phone chimed and she froze, holding it up. “It’s Rafe. Should I open it?” 

“Yes, stupid, open the text!” Julia exclaimed, scooting her chair closer to see the phone. 

“Be nice!” Sophie scowled, unlocking her phone - and her jaw dropped. “Oh no.” 

“You are so dramatic.” Allie giggled, walking over to see. “What’d he say?” 

“Um...I might have made a mistake.” Sophie groaned, turning her phone to show two texts from Rafe yesterday, and one that had just been sent. 

Rafe, 8:30am Sunday: Everything okay? You didn’t need to leave

Rafe, 4pm Sunday: Hope you’re feeling alright today

Rafe, 10:15 Monday: Are you okay? 

Julia snorted. “Way to leave him on read, Soph.” 

“Jules.” Allie chided, frowning. 

“This is bad, isn’t it.” Sophie bit her lip, embarrassed. 

“It doesn’t look great.” Allie admitted. “But hey! He still checked in on you just now! You can make up for ignoring him.” 

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Sophie defended, already typing back a message. 

“Wait, don’t look too eager.” Julia tried grabbing at the phone and Allie swatted her hands away.

“Don’t listen to her, you’ve been playing hard to get for two and a half years. Eager is fine.”

Sophie paused, glancing between the two of her friends, then sent the text. “Al, if I regret this, I’m blaming you.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

After a moment’s pause with bated breath, her phone chimed again and she grinned, turning the phone away to hide the screen. “Okay, okay, you two can go back to studying.” 

Julia laughed, moving away with Allie. “Don’t forget to be nice for once.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sophie stuck out her tongue at Julia, but smiled anyways.

Sophie: yeah I’m good, just tired. sorry I didn’t see your other two texts

Rafe: I was beginning to think you were ignoring me haha

Sophie: no of course not 

Rafe: Good

Rafe: Do you want to come study at the house tomorrow night? We can be in the formal room it just seems silly to go all the way to the library when we live so close 

Sophie: what do we have to study for? 

Rafe: Tomorrow’s Tuesday, did you forget about our running study date lol 

Sophie: date huh 

Rafe: You know what I mean

Sophie: yes I’d love to come over, I’ll see you at the same time 

Once Rafe got Sophie’s final reply, he liked the message then let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t paid attention to a single thing in his economics lecture, focusing more on texting Sophie and her responses. As their professor dismissed the class, Rafe shut his laptop with a grin, turning to Colin. “Can I -”

“Yes, you can have my notes.” Colin rolled his eyes, walking out with Rafe. “You texting Sophie the whole time?” 

“Yeah, she replies slow - wait, how’d you know?” 

Colin laughed. “You were grinning like an idiot at your computer during the whole lecture, and you hate this class.” 

“Oh.” Rafe tried his best to fight the smile on his face, then shrugged. “We have a date tomorrow.” 

“Really, you actually asked her out? Good on you, man,” Colin said.

“Well.” Rafe hedged, rubbing his neck. “Not exactly. She’s just coming over for when we usually study for our class together.”

Colin groaned and shoved Rafe’s arm. “That’s not a date, idiot. Do better.” 

“I gotta take it slow!” Rafe protested.

“You’ve had your time taking it slow. Make a real move for once.” Colin said, shaking his head. 

_ 

Sophie showed up to the Delt house dressed a little nicer than usual, just enough so Rafe would notice, in a sweater and a skirt. She was more nervous than ever, fidgeting with the ends of her hair as she waited on the front porch. Rafe hustled down the stairs the second he got her text, greeting her at the door with a huge grin. “Soph, hey!” He glanced over her appearance, immediately regretting his t-shirt and sweatpants attire. 

His grin put her at ease and she relaxed, following him into the house. “Got a hot date after this or something?” He teased, leading her to the formal room where a few other boys were out studying.

“And what if I do?” She challenged, taking a seat opposite him at a table.

He raised his eyebrows, trying his best to not show any sign of disappointment. “Do you?” 

She blushed a little but kept his gaze. “I - no. I had a presentation for class.” She lied, embarrassed she had even tried so hard.

“You look good.” Rafe paused. “Really good.”

Sophie bit back a smile, shaking her head a little. “Thank you. Um, we should study, I don’t want to keep you busy for too long.” She slid out her notebook, showing him a few pages of meticulous notes for their debate topic. 

His notes, albeit messy, rivaled hers. “You actually prepared.” She said, impressed as she flipped through the pages.

He frowned a little. “I’ve been prepared every time. I’m not gonna let you down, Soph.” The words held more meaning than just talking about the group project and she did her best to ignore it, nodding as she skimmed over his notebook.

She paused, finger on a small note scribbled in the margin. “You wrote down my coffee order?” 

Rafe blushed, embarrassed, and snagged back the notebook. “Well yeah, I had to remember it somehow.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Less about us, more about the ethics of time travel.” He flipped to a fresh page, ready to take down more notes. The two kept up easy conversation for a while, not noticing the time passing as they worked. When Sophie realized she’d been there for over an hour and the conversation was still surprisingly dry, given what had transpired on Saturday, she reached across the table and snapped Rafe’s book shut. 

“Look, we should just talk about it.” 

“It?” Rafe repeated, raising his eyebrows cluelessly. 

“You know.” Sophie hinted, then huffed when he just looked more confused. “You’re gonna make me say it? Fine. Okay, since we slept together, you haven’t - what the fuck are you smiling for!” She scowled, crossing her arms. 

He was grinning ear-to-ear but leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Sorry, sorry go on.” 

“This isn’t funny, Cameron.” 

“That’s Mr. Cameron to you.” He teased. 

She ignored him, rolling her eyes. “Since we slept together you haven’t said a single thing about it. And whatever, I know I was drunk, but if I was really that bad -"

Rafe couldn’t keep the act up anymore and started cracking up, hardly able to keep eye contact. He doubled over, almost wheezing as he laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Sophie hissed, embarrassed as his loud laughter drew attention from boys walking by. 

He swiped his hand across his eyes, shaking his head as he let out a few more chuckles. “Soph, we didn’t sleep together. Not like that.” 

Sophie frowned and it was her turn to be confused. “Wait, what?” 

“You called me when you were drunk, I picked you up and you wanted to come back here, then you asked for clothes to change into to sleep.” A small blush crept up his neck and he looked a little shy. “Then, um, you asked me to come cuddle but I accidentally fell asleep when you did. And I woke up and you were gone.” 

She sat back in her chair, reeling as she processed this new information. “I didn’t sleep with you.”

“Not in anything other than the literal sense, no.” 

“Oh.” 

“See? Nothing to worry about. You were drunk, I wouldn’t have - you know. I just wanted you safe.”

At those words, she remembered him saying them that night. “And you practically saved my life.” 

Rafe paused. “Huh? I mean, you almost stepped out into traffic. But wait, you were hammered, how do you remember that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I remember practically everything even when I’m drinking, what do you mean?” 

“Practically everything…” he repeated, slowly. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head at her confession. His jaw dropped. “So you lied! About our first kiss!” 

“I...yeah.” Trapped in her lie, Sophie winced. “I don’t know why. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to think I go around letting just anyone kiss me when I’m drunk.” 

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “You kissed me, Sophie Flint. Not the other way around.”

She scowled at the name. “Oh, not the full name now, you’re making it sound like I’m in trouble.”

He hesitated, glancing down at his notes before looking back up at her. “Why’d you lie?” 

“I was nervous.” She admitted, biting her lip. “Maybe I thought you’d think less of me or something, I don’t know.”

He softened, reaching out across the table to take her hand. She let him, brain fogging over as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’d never think that, Soph.”

She took a moment too long to reply, distracted by his touch. “Okay. Good.” 

“Should we finish?” He asked, not letting go of her hand.

She was the first to let go, reluctantly pulling her hand back to her book. “Yeah. Um.” Sophie blushed, flipping through a few pages randomly to give her a moment to think. “Page 54, yeah?” 

_

The second Rafe waved goodbye to Sophie and let the door shut behind her, James and Colin practically ambushed him in the foyer. They had been ‘studying’ in the corner of the formal room, not-so-subtly giving Rafe multiple winks and thumbs up from behind Sophie’s back as they tried eavesdropping on their entire conversation. James clapped Rafe on the shoulder, grinning. “Ask her out yet?” 

“No.” Rafe responded, still confused from their conversation. They had gotten nowhere, yet they had also gotten...somewhere? “I held her hand.” 

“For two seconds.” Colin rolled his eyes. 

“Still something!” James interjected, ever-positive. “But dude, if you want something, you actually have to make a move. Like…” He pretended to lean in with puckered lips and Rafe shoved his head away, rolling his eyes.

“I know, dude. I gotta take it slow.” 

“You keep saying that.” Colin pointed out. “When are you actually going to do something about it?”

Rafe scowled. “Get off my back.” 

_

She couldn’t do it. She really couldn’t. 

Every single bone in her body wanted to just give in, be nice to Rafe, see if they could be a thing. But that would require letting someone in, being vulnerable, and Rafe Cameron of all people was not who she could do that with. (At least that’s what she told herself.) She could feel herself falling for him, and that freaked her out. 

Their study dates had gone from once a week at the library to twice a week at the Delt house. Never at Theta, she wasn’t prepared for the rumors that would fly and hearing girls speculate about a possible relationship. The reality check for her came when Julia called her out for waking up early for class just so she could put on a little extra makeup or make sure her hair wasn’t just thrown in its usual ponytail. “If you like him, just say something.” Allie had encouraged her, trying to give her the push she needed.

Sophie resisted, as usual. “There’s nothing between us.” 

They really only needed thirty minutes, max, to knock out their prep for their debate class, but Sophie found herself stretching out the time to an hour and a half, sometimes two. Rafe never seemed to mind, eager to keep discussing the merits of their side of the debate and to just see that spark in her eyes for a little bit longer as she spoke about something she was passionate about. 

Today had to be different. She set a timer on her watch the second she stepped through the doors at Delt, following Rafe through to their usual study spot. Sophie told herself she was only allowed to stay the thirty minutes, nothing more, and keep the conversation strictly to work. Maybe even be a little mean, if she had to, to push him away again. (It always worked before.) 

“How was your day?” He greeted her with his signature grin and she visibly winced, already feeling herself cave. She sat across from him and glanced at her watch. Twenty-nine minutes. God. She could do that. 

“Fine.” She replied shortly, not reciprocating. 

He nodded, unaware, and tapped his foot nervously under the table. “That’s good. So I was thinking, if you wanted to, maybe, after studying -"

“I can’t.” She cut him off. “I can’t stay long, I’m busy. Let’s just get this done.” 

“Oh - oh. Okay. Sorry.” He apologized needlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s whatever.” Sophie dismissed. “So I was thinking we focus our argument on these three main points…”

He tuned her out and just skimmed over the notebook she slid over to him, eyes tracing over the words but not truly reading any of them. Rejected. Huh. He didn’t even get the chance to get the words out, ask her to go get ice cream after. Maybe that would have been a stupid move anyways, considering it was the last week of October in Ohio and only forty degrees outside. Next time he’d think of a better plan, next time he’d -

“Rafe.” Sophie’s annoyed voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He jerked his head up. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, were you even listening? Pay attention.”

He resisted a frown, halfway paying attention now as she spoke. Did he do something wrong? He thought they were getting along, flirty even. Maybe he misread the signs. “What’s up with you today?” He asked, more concerned than irritated. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? Because your attitude seems like something.” He couldn’t resist pressing her buttons, just once. 

“I don’t have an attitude. Just trying to get this stupid homework done.” She snapped back.

He raised his hands in defense, a little taken aback. “Whoa, chill. We can get it done, you don’t have to be rude.” 

Sophie softened, just a little, and glanced at her watch again. 23 minutes. Maybe she didn’t have to entirely be an asshole. “Right.”

Rafe held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to read the thoughts running through her mind. “Okay. So I was thinking…” They kept a somewhat civil conversation, strictly related to their class, though Rafe could tell something felt off. She didn’t have the usual teasing lilt in her tone and he was too nervous to even try his typical flirting - his hand grazing against hers, or a sly comment here and there. 

After a few minutes of reading together from a new article on Rafe’s laptop, he spoke up. “Hey, Soph -” he started with a hint of a frown. 

“Sophie.” She corrected, keeping her eyes trained on the computer. 

Rafe’s face fell flat and he pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding once. “Never mind then.” 

“What is it?” 

“I said never mind.” He repeated, shaking his head. 

The rest of the time was fairly quiet as they scribbled out notes for their arguments, sharing a relevant piece of information every few minutes. 

“Why’d you choose architecture?” Rafe asked after a few moments of silence, both of them reading over their textbooks.

“Study, Rafe.” Sophie reprimanded him with a bored tone, keeping her eyes on her book ‘til she finished the page. He glanced over her expression, trying to decide if she was serious or not, then went back to his book. 

“I thought it was cool. I like seeing the way things work, how buildings are crafted. Everything has a purpose.” She spoke after a moment. 

He smiled. “That’s cool. I can tell you like it.”

“You hardly know me,” Sophie pointed out. 

(Not true. He could read her like a book after all these years, knowing exactly when she was about to snap. She could do the same.)

 He frowned, feeling her putting up a wall, her typical defense mechanism when she didn’t want to admit the truth. “I think I do.” He argued, keeping her gaze. She rolled her eyes and broke eye contact first, dropping her eyes back to her book. 

He sighed, quietly, and returned to pretending to read. 

Sophie broke the silence this time. “Why are you studying film?”

He looked up, a little surprised she was taking interest. “Uh…” he trailed off, trying to think of how best to phrase it. “Movies were always my escape. If my dad was busy with work, y’know, like usual, he’d just throw on a movie for me and my sisters.” He smiled, thinking back. “I’m pretty sure I have Hercules memorized by heart now.” 

“That’s cool. My favorite Disney movie was Robin Hood.” Sophie mused, scribbling a couple notes in the margins of her book. She tried her best to keep an impassive composure, although she wanted nothing more inside than to spend hours just talking about his interests and seeing the way he beamed when she was interested too. 

“I never really liked him. Didn’t he steal from people?” 

“Not really, he stole from the tax collector and gave the money to the poor people.” She pointed out. 

“Oh.” Rafe paused, not sure if he wanted to continue the argument. “System’s in place for a reason, right?” 

Sophie wrinkled her nose, annoyance creeping into her tone. There was something about his indifference that made her just want to reach across the table and shake some sense into him. “Not when the government is creating an illegitimate tax system.” 

He shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I never watched that closely.” 

“Well I’m right, anyways.” She declared, lifting her chin a little in a challenge. 

“It doesn’t matter anyways, Flint, it’s a cartoon.” Rafe replied, slightly exasperated. There it was - back to last names. For some reason, it made Sophie madder than ever. She hated the way it rolled off his tongue so easily, like he knew her by nothing else. 

“It does matter, Cameron, it’s the principle of the thing.” She turned up her nose haughtily toward him, crossing her arms. She knew she was doing exactly what she shouldn’t do, chipping away at their already rocky relationship built on a foundation of uneven stone. “But I’m not surprised you wouldn’t care.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorted, mimicking her pose from across the table. 

“It means you’re a dick. Always relying on daddy’s money.” Sophie stood her ground, jaw set. The way she said it, it was too sure, too carefully crafted to hit just where it’d hurt. Casual, almost, as if it meant nothing to say that. Like she’d been waiting to use that line for ages. 

That stung more than he expected, even though he’d heard it before - just not from her lips. He shot his response back quickly, too quickly, and regretted the words the second they left his mouth. “At least I don’t have to work two jobs just to pay for college.” 

Her face turned to stone as she felt the heat creeping up her neck, threatening to expose her embarrassment. Sophie gathered her things quickly, carelessly shoving them into her backpack, then paused before leaving to look him straight in the eye. “That’s fucking low, Rafe, even for you.” She said quietly. The words hung in the air between them as she turned sharply on her heel and strode calmly away, trying to beat the tears on the verge of spilling over her cheeks. 

Her watch vibrated on her wrist just as she stepped outside, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Thirty minutes. Timed perfectly.

taglist: @obx-saltlife​ @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub​ @alexandracheers

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family V

Part Five: Some Things Never Change

A/N: I’ve reread and rewrote and finally wrapped this up! It got really long because I didn’t want to drag it into another part, but I did include an epilogue--I couldn’t help myself. Hope it lives up to the expectations! And thank you x100000 again for reading along <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

The next morning, we sit down together and soothe Charlie's worries. Harry holds my hand at one point and we play the best acting gig either of us have ever played as we pretend there's not a ginormous unspoken trilogy between us. Charlie's tentative at first, but when Harry pulls her onto his knee and whispers something to her. She breaks into a giggle and hugs him. At least that was patched over, I think. But when Harry meets my eyes over her head, I look away. Some things might never be patched over.

I’d set up a play date this morning, thinking Charlie might have needed a distraction. It also gave me time to pack our things without her to distract me or feel the emotional baggage I was packing up too.

I had planned to find an air bnb, waking up at 7am to start searching. But when I updated Marc after he asked what I was doing that evening, he insisted we stayed with him. We’d lived together before, and he was almost always at work, so it gave us enough space.The best part was he lived in the same building as Harry; it was almost too perfect, and when I’d asked Charlie she was totally on board. Spending time with Marc while being able to take the elevator to see her dad sounded just sounded like her play place had expanded.

After Charlie leaves, and I’m almost done packing, I look for Harry to talk. I find him toweling his hair after his shower. He had to head out for shooting today so I needed to speak to him before he left or else he would think I slighted him. He notices me in the foggy mirror and turns, and I try not to find the towel tied around his waist distracting.

“Hey, so...I’ll be out of your hair today...no pun intended.” I laugh lamely after he continues to stare at me blankly. Okay, maybe his towel was more distracting than I’d like to admit. And this was an awkward conversation when we had so many unspoken things between us. “Um, so I found other accommodations finally. So we’ll move out and it’ll be like we planned initially?”

“Huh?” Harry freezes, arms in midair.

“I don’t know why it took me this long to find another place,” I blabber on. “But I think yesterday was kind of a wake up call? I shouldn’t have stayed this long anyway and-”

“Wait, Y/N, stop. You’re leaving?”

“Just the flat,” I finally look at him, he looks stony. “We’ll actually just be a few floors down staying with Marc, so it’s kind of perfect.”

“Marc?” A flame lights itself in his eyes, usually the colour of a spring field, they’ve now turned into a field of ashes as he realises what I’m saying. “You’re moving out? To Marc’s? Because of yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” I try to remain calm, but it’s hard when he’s acting like this. “Harry, yesterday just made me realise I’d lost sight of the horizon or whatever. We were never supposed to live with you for this reason! We knew when we planned this that it would complicate things. I was just so obsessed with making Charlie’s birthday perfect I didn’t look for anywhere else, and her birthday was basically disastrous so that was useless. Now you can live freely, Miranda can come and go-”

“Oh and living with Marc won’t confuse Charlie?” Harry demands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what that mean Y/N. You’re being a bloody hypocrite-”

“What?!” I can’t keep the calm anymore. “I’m a hypocrite?”

“Yes! You! You think Charlie seeing Miranda and me together would confuse her yet you’re taking her to your boyfriend’s house-”

“Who said anything about my boyfriend--and how dare you sound so judgemental about that! Sorry I didn’t get the memo; Harry can have a girlfriend but Y/N can’t! She’s got to be the single virgin mother all by herself!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“No, I think it’s what you were trying to say! Being so fucking judgemental about my love life. This isn’t my fault! I’m not asking you shit, Harry!”

“What the fuck Y/N!” Harry whips the towel he was using for his hair onto the ground. My heart beats erratically in my chest; the last time we fought like this it was because I’d told him I was pregnant and it had ended really ugly. But the way he got under my skin, as hard as I wanted to be the mature one, I couldn’t. “You don’t have to be so bloody sarcastic all the time! I just don’t understand how living with Marc will be any better!”

“Marc’s barely every home, and he’s lived with us before, it’s worked out fine. Charlie adores him-”

“Oh yeah I bet she does! You would’ve loved it if Marc was her father yeah? He’s always had a thing for you, even when we were together. Now’s your chance to be a perfect little family with Marc!”

“I did not say that, don’t put words in my mouth-”

“Oh, but I think that’s what you were trying to say,” Harry mocks me. He’s a ball of rage as he stalks towards me. “I don’t understand your obsession with this guy and why he’s so close to Charlie!”

“You know Marc! We’ve been friends with him for-wait why am I defending myself? This isn’t about that!”

“Well I think it should be!”

“Where are you going with this Harry?!” I shout, putting my hands out to his chest as he continues walking towards me, as if maybe I could shield myself from his growing fury. “I don’t want to fight! I’m just trying to do what’s best for Charlie. And for us.” 

We stare at each other, uncomfortably close, chests heaving as the fire crackles low.

“Well, too late for that.” He says, but the snark is gone. “I’ve finally got Charlie living with me and you’re taking her away.”

“I-I’m not taking her away.” My voice rises immediately. “Don’t you dare say I’m taking her away!”

“You are!” He says stubbornly.

“What the fuck do you expect? You want me to stick around so it’s you, me, and Charlie? You want me to stay here and be miserable, have our kid be confused about what’s going on with who?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable, I just want us in one place!”

“We’re not this perfect little nuclear family you have in your head! We can’t be!”

“Not when you’re bringing the nuclear into the family,” Harry mutters immaturely.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?!” I want to pull my hair out.

“What’s wrong with me is you’re taking away my daughter from me!”

My blood was just boiling now. I get in his face, “Harry, do you not remember that you never wanted us? You had the option to stay with me, while I was pregnant with Charlie. You had the option to hold your daughter the day she was born. You could’ve had all of it. Every step of the way! You chose not to, you let me go, you-you told me I could go...” I break off suddenly, so I didn’t sob as the memories rush back. I told everyone I was over it, I had processed it. But when Harry rejected me, he also rejected Charlie and I never got over that.

Harry hears my breath hitch, he backs away from my outstretched hands and I let them drop.

After a heavy silence, Harry speaks up: “Y/N I’m sorry. I heard what you said yesterday. I was up all night just thinking about it...”

“Well that’s wonderful for me,” I retreat into the comfort of sarcasm.

“No--you were right, I didn’t want commitment. I was bloody afraid of it. I was listening to everyone who said if I had a kid, my career would be over. I wanted to stay young, and I just let you deal with it by yourself. I was selfish and I wish I could go back and change everything.”

“Well that’s not much help now; you never once said any of this to me! You moved on--don’t deny it. I saw you in the tabloids, the media. You don’t think I kept track of you? I loved you! You’re the father of my kid, and while I was up on less than an hour of sleep trying to get your 2 month old to stop crying at 3am, you were out partying with models and getting smashed.”

“I couldn’t-I just spiraled-”

“Well it’s nice that your spiraling looks so much like partyingl” I roll my eyes. “Mine looked like crying in the bathtub with my ears ringing, and covered in baby vomit.” I cross my arms. I had held it in for four long years, it was about time I snapped, and I guess this was it.

“Y/N.” he turns away from me, rubbing his face. When he turns around, his heart is on his sleeve. “There were so many times I would pick up my phone and type in your number, just to hear your voice. Just to ask you about Charlie--it ripped me apart that I wasn’t there. That you weren’t here, with Charlie. You’d send me pictures of her and I would get so excited to see what she was up to, what new thing she learned...”

He breaks off, his face now shining with tears. He walks up to me and holds my hands, my heart tugs and I know I’m crying too. “Y/N when I held her for the first time when she was a few months old, and she looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t even know I could love like that. So I changed Y/N--tell me you saw me doing anything reckless after that first visit. I made sure I grew up so I could always be there for her. And you. But you never talked to me. You were always so cold to me and I was scared to break the ice. So I just let you raise her without me, not realising what I was missing out on. I fucking missed all of it because I was just trying find the perfect words to get this off my chest and I never found them.”

“Harry-” I sigh. “You could’ve tried. But...you moved on though. You have a girlfriend-”

“I had to try to move on,” he explains urgently. “You barely spoke to me. I’d ask how you are and you wouldn’t always reply, our texts were only about Charlie. You never invited me over when I was in LA. I thought you didn’t care about me so I had to move on, and the way we ended things I didn’t blame you! I let you know I would be there for Charlie--but I had to move on because I didn’t think we would ever have another shot.”

“I didn’t know what to say to you when you came over Harry. The way we left things before I moved back home, It was awful.” I whisper. The words he’d said, the things I said, the broken glass and just hours of fighting. Then the panic attacks and crippling fear of not knowing what I was doing with my life. It was easy to let it harden you, rather than invite it back in.

“The way I let you leave...was awful.” He agrees. “So I’m asking you now to stay Y/N.”

“And do what?” I ask, didn’t he get it? “Sit around while your girlfriend is over all the time, have her pop in with her own key while I’m only just woken up looking like a troll? Let you kiss me in the dark when she’s not around? Have her ignore me like I’m not even there?”

Harry has the decency to look embarrassed, dropping my arms. He sighs, and looks at me with regret. “This is balls up.”

“Yeah, I know Harry. That’s why I’m finding other accommodations.”

“I don’t like it’s with Marc.”

“I don’t care Harry, you don’t have any say over who I stay with.”

“But Charlie-”

“She can stay with you when she wants,” I agree. “I know you’ve got a shoot all week so it’s a good week to be out.”

“I like coming home to you two.”

“Harry,” I warn him. He couldn’t afford to speak like this when he had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to fall for him again. He made it hard not to.

“I don’t like it but I can’t stop you.” He concedes, arms crossed over his chest. I skim over the bare flesh, taking in the ink that Charlie loved to ask a million questions about. He notices me looking and I catch the cocky grin on his face.

“I’m looking at the ink,” I say, even though I didn’t have to defend myself.

“I know,” he shrugs but the grin stays on his face. I roll my eyes and head back to finish packing but he pulls me back to him and suffocates me against his bare chest. “I’m sorry, for then. For now. Forever.”

He lets me go but he keeps his arms around my waist. I look up at him and for the first time in a long time, I see my old Styles. Confident, determined, and a little cocky. The one I fell hard for.

“Noted,” I say, not giving in this easily, I still had to process this whole conversation and figure out what this thing between Harry and I meant.

A low chuckle bursts out from him as he stares down at me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I’m right here,” I say, stepping back so he lets me go. I leave him with a smile on his face, not ignoring the way he said he misses me. Without even realising it, my feelings of resentment had begun to slip away. But I still knew space would be best for both of us.

***

It’s Thursday evening, Charlie was with Harry having dinner at his mum’s place. Marc’s edition is officially in printing and he’s home at a decent enough hour that I put aside my work and share a glass of wine with him.

“Sounds intense,” Marc says to me after I give him the details of mine and Harry’s fight. Since then, we’d have breakfast as a family once but I did text him beyond just talking about Charlie. Pictures, memes, old memories, the occasional pointless text. It was sort of nice having him in my life again.

Charlie was going to work with him tomorrow, and she was so excited about that. It gave me time for alone time, and to catch up with Marc.

“It was intense, it felt like the old Y/N and Harry.”

“Uh oh. I don’t miss them,” Marc huffs. “You’re a lot nicer now, and he’s not as much of a cocky bastard anymore.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I tease. But he was right, back then I was young and sassy and I wasn’t afraid to let the world know. Marc and I had met when he reached out to me to write an article for his magazine and it was a coincidence that Marc and Harry knew each other from cover shoots. Marc used to be a photographer.

“I like this Y/N better,” Marc leans into me, his voice deepening. “She’s kind and strong and gorgeous, and the best part is she lets me kiss her.”

He pauses in front of my face and I lean the rest of the way in to let him know he could. That’s all the signal he needs. Our drinks abandoned, we quickly move into the bedroom and I can’t believe I forgot how good it felt to be wanted like this.

***

The next time I’m in Harry’s flat, I’m picking Charlie up. She stayed with him, but Miranda had surprised him by showing up early right after her flight landed. His short text made me get up there right away, after what happened the last time Charlie saw Harry and Miranda together, I wasn’t sure if she would misbehave.

But oddly, she’s mostly quiet.

“Did you have fun?” I ask Charlie, as she eats her cereal slowly. Her back is to the hall Harry stands in and it was a good thing as Miranda drapes herself across him. Unfortunately, I had to see it; I guess she got the memo that Charlie knew what was going on, and she was okay with it--or as okay as a four year old could be.

“It was so cool mom,” Charlie says. “There was so many rooms and one was space! It had the moon and there was a castle and they made the explosion sound and...” Charlie explains in no sensible order everything she saw at the studio, and I listen to her spill out her excitement but every so often my eyes drift to where Miranda shamelessly reunites with Harry. It makes my stomach turn. Especially after the conversation we had. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew Harry wasn’t going to rearrange his whole life because we’d finally had the Talk about what happened between us all those years ago. It was just watching them, and knowing that that was Harry moving on. From me...when I never fully moved on from him. It was pathetic, I know.

“Have you had coffee yet?” Harry asks a little while later after he’s unhooked Miranda’s claws from him and made his way to the kitchen. Charlie is slowing down her speech but when Harry appears she launches into more questions about set and when his “movie” would come out (it was a music video).

“No, I saw your text as soon as I woke up.” I say, between Charlie’s breaths. IT seemed she was going to be a while. “I could use a cup.”

“I heard you’re staying with Marc,” Miranda suddenly comes up and sits at the table, addressing me. “He’s a nice guy, I’ve worked with him in the past. Easy on the eyes too.”

“I’m right here,” Harry holds up my empty cup and looks pointedly at her. She winks and I nearly vomit.

I smile instead, “Yeah. He’s a really good friend, and Charlie loves him. And he lives downstairs so it worked out really well.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. This was the most she’s said to me since she got here. I watch as she glances at Harry who’s making my coffee the way I like it. “I heard you two are really good friends.”

Yeah...” I didn’t like what she was insinuating. I look up at Harry but he’s suddenly very interested in the sugar. “I can do that.” I grab it from him and make sure to glare at him as he passes it to me.

“We should do like, a double date.” She suggests. “Harry, don’t you think that would be fun? You and me, Y/N and Marc?”

“What about me?” Charlie pouts.

“You and Gemma!” Harry looks at me. “I forgot to mention, Gemma wanted to take Charlie out, spend some time with her while she was in London.”

“Perfect!” Miranda sounds almost too excited. It makes me suspicious.

***

When I tell Marc about the double date, he’s more than eager to attend. I know he just wanted to annoy Harry. I was nervous what this all meant.

But somehow I find myself standing with Marc in front of the restaurant while I try to prepare myself for whatever the evening held for us. Marc eventually just grabs my hand, winks, and pulls me in even though I wanted to just stay outside for a bit longer. Maybe a lot longer. Maybe just never go in.

As dinner goes on, things grow more and more awkward. Miranda is chatting up Marc about their old shoots, Harry grows more irritated as Marc receives all the attention, and his eyes track Marc’s hand any time it’s near me. I knock back my wine, as does Harry. Miranda continues to chat up Marc, and I inhale the food when it finally comes simply because the whole situation was stressful.

“The food’s good here,” I comment but only Harry hears me over the other conversation at the table.

“I always wanted to take you here,” Harry comments. “It has the best victoria sponge I’ve ever had.”

“You know I hate victoria sponge,” I scrunch my nose.

“I know!” Harry laughs which seems to get the table’s attention. His laugh usually did, as I’ve said. “That’s why you have to try it, you’ll finally like it.”

“Like what?” Marc asks.

“Victoria sponge,” I cringe visibly which makes him laugh.

“I think she loves cheesecake too much, right?” I know Marc is remembering the night I came to his house after a big fight with Harry, he’d bought a cheesecake for his then-girlfriend but I’d cried into it and finished the whole thing in one sitting. He’d had to improvise with cupcakes the next day. I still feel bad about that.

“Y/N is a cheesecake fanatic,” Harry says a little aggressively.

“Cheesecake’s way too fattening,” Miranda says absentmindedly, not realising what she was implying.

When the table grows awkwardly silent, Harry tries to come to her rescue. “That’s when you know it’s good food.”

“Touche,” I tip my glass just to have an excuse to have something to do and...well, drink.

At the end of the night, Harry asks if we want to go back to his place. I say no as Marc says yes and because he had the louder voice that’s what we do. I shoot him a dirty look but he only winks at me. He was having way too much fun.

Harry excuses himself and joins us in the Uber late. In his hands is a box with victoria sponge.

***

“Do you think he knows I’m not your boyfriend?” Marc asks later that night. We’d drank another bottle of wine and everyone was a bit more...vocal than before. What started out as fun stories from our younger days, quickly turns into passive aggressive comments as Harry stared a hole at Marc’s hand on my thigh, and Miranda stared at Harry staring at Marc’s hand on my thigh. She’d asked to speak to him midway through and now they were arguing in another room where every so often we caught some of their argument.

“You can’t even take your eyes off..............a bloody cake? You didn’t even think to.........I don’t get it!” That was Miranda.

“Thinking too much..........stop........of course I love you.......Charlie’s mom!” and that was Harry.

“I just knew this dinner would go like this,” Miranda says loudly.

“So you’re testing me now?” 

“Yes Harry, that’s obvious isn’t it Y/N?” Marc comments beside me.

“You’re having too much fun,” I lean my head back and sigh against the headrest.

“I have a stressful job, I don’t go out often. Can you blame me for being mildly entertained here?”

“Ugh...yeah okay me too.” I look over at him and he laughs. I hated the tension it was causing between Harry and I but I couldn’t help the small petty satisfaction of showing Miranda up after she tried to steal the show at dinner tonight. “What happened to the flight attendant you were seeing?”

“She took a flight out of London and never called me back?”

“Poor you,” I pat his shoulder. “We’re just not cut out for relationships are we?”

Marc shakes his head solemnly. I sigh, the alcohol making me more melodramatic than I was. “We’re finding my ex and his girlfriend arguing, entertaining. Who am I?”

“This is why we get along,” Marc leans into me, he smelled good. “Two boring people, getting our petty kicks with other people’s drama.”

“I think this is kind of my drama too,” I groan.

"Then I guess it’s kind of my drama too,” Marc says happily.

“You’re serious,” I say, leaning my head back against the sofa again, too tired to say anything else.

“I always have your back,” Marc says and I open my eyes just as he nuzzles a kiss against my exposed neck, and Harry walks into view.

“Harry,” I sit up and Marc jolts up as I nearly knock my head into his. Harry looks roughened up, his hair lays every which way as if he ran a rake through it. His face is flushed yet he stares at Marc like he wants to pop his head off.

“I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to call it a night. Miranda is...we have to talk and-”

“Yep, yep, we’re out.” I don’t need to be asked twice. Neither does Marc. Marc heads immediately to the door but I pause by Harry.

“Sorry...” he apologizes again. He looks like a lost puppy which is what makes me press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Gemma is dropping Charlie off around noon.”

“Okay,” Harry looks over my head to Marc, who is opening the door to give us some privacy. He looks back at me, searching my face for something. “I didn’t want the evening to end like this, it’s just...complicated.”

“I get it,” I cut him off, and more gently say again, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes please,” he mumbles. Even though Harrys’ done this to himself, I can’t help but feel a little bad. I pat his arm and turn to head out with Marc. Harry could get himself out of the mess if he wanted.

***

I don’t hear from Harry the next morning, before I pick up Charlie, he leaves me a cryptic text that we should probably not go over today. Charlie and I spend the day exploring London some more instead, although she’s tired in a few hours so we end up picking up Marc after work and enjoying dessert by the river.

I still hear nothing on Saturday morning, Charlie asks about Harry and I lie saying he way busy. It’s only around noon that a haggard Harry shows up at Marc’s door. I was helping load the dishwasher so Marc answers the door. It’s the loud shout from Charlie that alerts me to the guest.

I pass Marc on my way to the door, he just raises his eyebrows to say yikes and it’s an understatement when I see him. Messy hair, a five ‘o clock shadow, and he looks like he hadn’t slept.

“You look...rough.” I say while Charlie sits on his back. I almost want to tell her to be fragile with him with the way he looked.

“It’s been a rough couple days.” He comments, his voice scratchy. “I need to talk to you.”

“Charlie, love, go inside for a bit? I’ve got to speak with your dad.”

“Aww,” she moans as Harry helps her dismount.

“I’ll play with you later little monkey,” Harry tickles her and she squeals as she runs away. His eyes follow her with a smile.

“So...” I step into the hall, tilting the door behind me.

“I think Miranda and I broke up.”

“Ah,” that made sense. “What happened?”

“She...it’s so complicated. Why are women so complicated?”

“Woman here,” I point to myself and raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Apparently she...set up that double date so I could see you’d moved on. Except, according to her, the way I was acting made her realise she was never going to measure up to you. She...she wanted me to choose between you and her, I told her...” he gulps, leaning against the opposite wall for some support. “It wasn’t the same. You were Charlie’s mum, we would always be in each other’s lives. She made her peace with it but this morning when I woke up I don’t know...I don’t know what I said. She was just gone. She isn’t answering her phone. I thought we were okay, we made up yesterday but today...I don’t know.”

“Wow,” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think she would actually ask him to choose. And now she went AWOL. “Do you know where she might be?”

“I went to her place, her roommate said she thought she was with me. I just don’t want her to do anything rash.”

“Sorry, Harry.” I look him over, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Before I could say anything more, Charlie zips outside with the drawings she had done at the museum. She just wanted his attention, and as he takes them from her he smooths his face over and gives her all the excited feedback she wanted. I slip inside and tell Marc we might head up for a bit.

Harry hesitates before letting us in. The place was a mess. Things are strewn about everywhere. A broken lamp sits near the entrance.

“Woah,” I say.

“Woah” Charlie echoes me with more emphasis.

“Ehm,” Harry scratches his head. “I...was trying to find something.”

“You shouldn’t be so messy dad,” Charlie immediately begins walking to her room, like she always belonged here. A small part of me is already sad for when we had to leave.

“Sorry love,” Harry cracks a grin and we exchange a glance.

“D’you need help...?”

“No, come sit. I’ll pour us a drink.”

We sit in the kitchen, sipping our wine in silence. Charlie plays with her toys in the back, a comforting background noise.

I reach my hand out eventually and brush Harry’s hand on the countertop. He looks over at me, zoning back into the present. His smile is small and sad, dimmed and broken like his lamp. I thread my fingers through his and squeeze for comfort. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it and I try not to look as affected by it as I feel. He lets go after he kisses it.

“Thanks for being cool about this, I didn’t know who to go to.”

He looks so lost, and upset. I want to comfort him but there are no words I can say to do that. I open my mouth to try to say something anyway, but the familiar sound of his front door opening interrupts me before I can.

“Harry?” Miranda’s distinct voice carries over. Harry shoots out of his chair and goes to meet her. I watch on, out of view as she hugs him and apologises. “I just needed to clear my head. Then I got a taxi and ended up near my mum’s. I think I drank too many mimosas. I don’t know Harry, I brought an apology drink...”

She trails off as she spots Charlie laying down with her toys. She looks towards the kitchen and I look away quick enough to not see if she’d seen me or not.;

“I didn’t realise you had...guests.” She says slowly, slower, I can tell her words slur together. She really did have too much to drink.

“My...Charlie came up, her mum’s just in the kitchen.” Harry says, his words loaded with unspoken meaning.

“Oh. So I leave for a few hours and you invite them back.” My eyes bug out as I realise Miranda was planning on rehashing it right here. I get up and move towards Charlie but unfortunately I have to pass by them to get there.

“I was supposed to see Charlie yesterday, I didn’t know where you went! You weren’t picking up I just invited them up-”

“My phone died!” Miranda pushes Harry away and I move quicker towards Charlie, urging her to go play in her room but she stays on the floor stubbornly.

“Miranda please love, let’s not start this here again. Charlie-”

“What about me Harry? I haven’t gotten any attention from you for weeks! I thought we agreed yesterday-”

“They’re just here for the month! I never get to see her Miranda stop being unreasonable.”

“I don’t know why I thought coming back here was a good idea!” Miranda shouts. I pull Charlie up but even she’s frozen in spot watching Miranda. “You’re just never going to love me the way I want to are you? I’m never going to compare against...her. Them. Whatever!”

Harry tries to soothe her but she throws him off again, dropping her bottle to the floor with a thud. She turns to me while I back away to the bedroom with Charlie. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? Him all to yourself? This is why you came here all along? I bet your air bnb didn’t even have a bloody issue! He never wanted you in the first place! Newsflash: he has a girlfriend! Me! Not you-”

“Miranda! Enough.” Harry says and she shuts up. I scoop Charlie up and take her to the room but she starts crying because she dropped Oreo in the living room. I go back for it and Miranda is shouting at Harry, either she was too drunk to care or she was at the end of her stick. Or both. But when she starts to swear Harry tries to move her outside.

“It’s not like she can hear over how loud she’s fucking crying!” Miranda shouts. She really was having this breakdown here, but I pause. I wasn’t okay with her talking about Charlie like that, and I watch as Harry freezes over as he feels the same way.

“Miranda. That’s enough.” He says seriously.

“I’ve had enough Harry,” she’s on the verge of tears. I shuffle back to the bedroom and quiet Charlie down but as soon as she does the shouting gets loud enough that we can hear.

“Why is she yelling at dad?” Charlie asks, her nose red from crying.

“She’s...upset.” I say lamely.

“She shouldn’t yell at him,” she says quietly.

“Sometimes, when you’re that upset it just feels like you have to yell. But you’re right, we shouldn’t yell at each other. They’ll be okay.”

Eventually they quiet down and I feel like a prisoner stuck in the room, wondering when it was okay to leave. Charlie feels the same way because she eventually opens the door when I’m distracted and heads out.

“Charlie,” I whisper from the room but she doesn’t come back. It’s oddly quiet out and when I peep through there’s nobody actually there. I strain my ears and maybe hear them in the bedroom. I guess he’d convinced her to move location.

There’s a feeling in my stomach, like a hard seed rooting in place and pulling up the dirt as it sprouts up into my chest. I suddenly just wanted to go home, back to LA. It felt so complicated here, and I know Charlie felt at home with her dad but I was just a traveler passing through here. London, felt like a home, but it wasn’t my home. And the feeling forces me to sit down on the edge of the couch. Charlie notices my expression and hovers nearby, eventually climbing up beside me and leaning her head on me. I pull her into me and try to work my way out of the funk I found myself in, turning on the TV just so I didn’t have to suffer in silence.

When Harry eventually comes out with Miranda, I’m making a snack for Charlie who stays seated in front of the TV, eyes glued to whatever was on. I try not to think too hard about why they both looked freshly showered, about what this meant for us all. Miranda sits on the couch and Harry hovers over them all watching. From my view in the kitchen, the feeling from before creeps back. Harry catches my eye just then and raises his chin, is everything okay. I smile reassuringly, it takes everything in me to fake it, before resuming my slicing.

I had to get over Harry, I think. On some level, I was still holding onto him and not dating anyone because I continued to compare everyone to how he made me feel. I was vulnerable living with him, I’d made up some version in my head of a family while I lived here and I watched Harry in his fatherly role. Some part of me hoped it would come true. But watching him with Miranda and Charlie like this, he didn’t need me. I was just a past dream, one that felt good to indulge in. Miranda was clearly his future.

“Charlie,” I call her name once I’ve cut up her snack. I stay in the kitchen, where I watch Harry touch Miranda’s shoulder reassuringly. I watch them make up and then watch as she leaves. Harry doesn’t once come into the kitchen, and I try not to show how gutted I feel.

***

I don’t hear from Harry for a few days. Charlie decided to sleep over for a few days, and I’m more than fine with it as I work to meet some upcoming deadlines. Marc pops in and out of his apartment, we have a few meals together but mostly I let myself get lost in my work. Charlie comes up every so often, but she spends most of her time with her dad. With only one week left here, I understand. I didn’t want to be around him, and make it harder for me to move on.

With less than a week to stay, Charlie asks me curiously as I put her to bed,

“Is Uncle Marc your boyfriend?”

“What?” I stare at her, where was that question coming from? Marc and I made sure to keep our distance whenever she was here. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I dunno. Dad said you cared about Marc.”

“Dad said what?” I breath deeply. For someone who was calling me a hypocrite he outright told Charlie Marc was my boyfriend? “Marc and I are just good friends honey, like you and Carrie. I don’t know why your dad said that.”

“I like Uncle Marc,” Charlie says as she grows sleepy. “He’s nice.”

I grind my teeth, why would Harry say something like that?

I go back to the living room where I was working on an article, Marc sits opposite me working late too. But no matter how many times I read what I wrote, I can’t focus. My mind spins asking why Harry would tell Charlie something like that.

“Where are you going?” Marc asks as I get up suddenly.

“I’m leaving Charlie asleep here,” I pick my sweater off the couch and slip it on. “I need to talk to Harry.”

“It’s 12am,” Marc puts his laptop to the side. “Ohh I see. You don’t have to use code with me love.”

“What?” I’m confused but it clicks a moment later. “Marc don’t be so immature I just need to talk to him about something he said to Charlie.”

“I won’t wait up, don’t worry. Charlie’s fine here.” He resumes working on his laptop and I don’t even bother correcting him. I fly out of the apartment and up to Harry’s. I didn’t care if he was sleeping, I needed to speak to him. I do a quick knock before fiddling with my key, entering the space just as Harry comes into view.

“Y/N?” Harry’s sleepy face stares at me for a beat, his eyebrows furrowed. And suddenly faced with a shirtless Harry, I realise I could have walked in on him doing anything. I didn’t really think this through--Miranda could be over. Shit.

“We needed to talk,” I close the door behind me and stand up straight, ready to lay into him.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. It couldn’t wait.”

“Come in, I guess.” He steps back and I walk into a brighter space, he follows behind.

“Why would you tell Charlie that Marc was my boyfriend? Or we were seeing each other?” I jump right in.

Harry must still be sleep-confused because he sits down on an armchair and stares up at me trying to piece my sentence in his head. My hands on my hips are fists as I wait impatiently.

“I didn’t tell her he was your boyfriend.” He starts slowly. “She just asked why we weren’t hanging out like before and all these questions about--well you know Charlie. So I said it was complicated; we cared about each other but you cared about other people too like Marc.”

“Why bring Marc into this? She doesn’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry gets defensive. “I was just trying to break it down to her.”

“So you brought Marc and me into her mind as someone I’m with--the reason why we weren’t hanging out like before? As if Miranda and you isn’t excuse enough?”

“Well, not anymore?” He squints up at me.

“Well...why not anymore?” I didn’t follow.

“Y/N...” He stares at me, searching my face as if I was lying but I don’t even know what I would be lying about. I raise an eyebrow. “Miranda and I broke up--that day you were here and she came in, we broke up, I thought you knew that. That’s why Charlie was staying with me for so long, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Y-you broke up?” I was stunned, the way it looked to me, they had made up. “Charlie knew?”

“I don’t know. She just thought Miranda wasn’t coming around. I don’t know if it was worth explaining to her.”

“Oh. Wow,” I sit down on the couch, digesting that Harry and Miranda actually broke up that day. All this time I thought he was quiet because they were back together, but he must have been getting over the breakup. And I didn’t even ask him how he was--he must think I was- “Harry I had no idea, I would’ve....done-or said something. If I knew. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were just staying out of it,” Harry chuckles to himself. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

“The breakup was so...civil. I couldn’t tell! Can you imagine if we broke up like that all those years ago?”

That makes Harry laugh. “Maybe we would have made up quicker.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, playing with the ring on my finger. My mind races as the last few days make a lot more sense. But the only question that lingers on my mind was, why Harry didn’t try to make his move. If all those words he said over the last few weeks were true--why didn’t he try to talk to me? The only thing I can come up with was that he wanted to stay friends. It would get too complicated. “Well, now that that’s cleared I should probably go.”

I stand up as Harry does. He clears his throat, looks up at me like he wants to say something. I wait a moment, and when he doesn’t the awkward starts to settle.

“Sorry for waking you,” I say, trying to signal that I was now leaving.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off. “But...aren’t you mad that I told Charlie?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of,” I try to figure out where he’s going with this. “But, given your circumstances, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Oh c’mon Y/N,” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your pity-forgiveness.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms playing along. “If that’s what you want, I don’t forgive you.”

“Good. I want to earn my forgiveness.” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s saying one thing but meaning another.

“Okay well, I’ll think of something.”

“I can think of a few things,” he says with a twinkle. I can’t help the laugh that bursts out; he was making me nervous.

“Like what?” I impulsively ask, fuck it I tell myself. If I couldn’t flirt with my daughter’s single dad what was the point, right?

“Hm,” he takes the few steps between us and flashes me a charming smile. “I could get on my hands and knees and beg, or” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his finger traces the curve of my ear down to my neck, his movements slow and his finger dipping borderline dangerous. “I hear jewellery can work.” he taps my chest but just as quickly his hand moves up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my lips, “or I can cook you your favourite meal and watch you enjoy it or...” I keep my eyes on him, trying not to give in, but as soon as he moves his hand up into my hair, I close my eyes without meaning to. He knew my favourite feeling was his fingers in my hair and even now, it was no different.

“Or what?” I whisper, eyes still closed, too afraid of what I’ll see if I open them.

“Look at me,” He whispers. I swallow, he says it again and I finally open my eyes. He’s not even hiding what he wants, but he is holding back. “I don’t want to force you into anything, I want you Y/N...but I know you’re with Marc so if you want me to stop I-”

“Harry,” I cut him off. Marc was right, he really didn’t know--that must be why he left me alone. And now in the midst of this heat, I had to tell him--I’d only played myself: “Marc and I aren’t together. We got together a few times but we were never actually...together.”

“Wait.” his hand leaves my hair and I want to snatch it back. He takes a step away, his eyes flitting at he thinks. “So this whole time?”

I shrug.

“This whole time, you just let me believe you and him...”

I try not to look too guilty as realization dawns on him. When he steps towards me again, his mouth is curved into a smile. And one might think it’s a nice smile, but the look in his eyes, I knew he was gearing up for something, because now he knows I let him believe Marc and I were going out on purpose. And I was going to pay.

“Okay, okay so I can explain,” I hold my hand out but he just keeps walking until I stumble back into the couch I just got up from. He leans over me, and a giggle bursts out from nervousness. “Harry really, I-”

“You let me believe,” he grabs the hand I have raised and envelops it in his, taking away my only defense. “That you were going out with Marc? just to bother me?”

“Well,” I’m at a loss for words as I look everywhere but at his face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“A little too well,” he murmurs. When I give in and look at him, I'm a goner.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Really I-”

“You’re not getting away with it that easily.”

“What happened to forgiveness? We can mutually forgive!”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he says. Before I can respond he’s somehow managed to lift me up and sling me over his shoulder.

“This-Harry!” I try to wriggle out but his hands are iron clad on my legs. His apartment floats upside down as he carries me. “I’m sorry! C’mon! This is cruel and unusual punishment! I-”

The breath is knocked out of me as he lays me down on the bed, we look at each other for a moment and then his face cracks into a grin, “Last time I checked, you were into cruel and unusual punishment.”

I laugh, “That was four years ago love, a lot can change in 4 years.”

“Hm,” he leans over me and I crawl up the bed until my head hits the pillow, as he follows. “But some things never change, do they?”

“No,” I stare into his green eyes. They shine with unadulterated joy and adoration. My stomach swarms with butterflies like I’m a teenage girl, like I was Y/N so long ago, excited the hot guy from the party took me home. I hold his face in mine and kiss him with the same joy and adoration. “Some things never change.”

“I love you Y/N,” he says into my neck. I push him up to look at him, he says it again and I can’t stop grinning.

“Are you going to make me wait?” he raises an eyebrow. “Is that my punishment.”

I shake my head, “I think we punished each other enough the last few years.”

He nods in agreement, “That’s deep.”

“So’s my love,” I push the cheesiness which always got him to laugh. He laughs now too, and I feel the small thrill of being the one to do that. “I love you”

“Phew. Now let me kiss you,” he pulls my shirt off effortlessly and our lips meet in the middle, missing each other already.

And as we press into each other, relearning every inch of the other, catching up for all those silent years, we just fit together like we were absolutely made for each other. And truer words didn’t exist: some things never change.

Epilogue

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 12

Today on I love you (not), Adrienette makes an appearance and our dearest protagonists have feeling epiphanies. We're only halfway through the fic though, so everything isn't solved. After the mutually unrequited half, we're about to enter the pining half. Hope you enjoy!

@marichatmay

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 12: In which youuuu can feeeeel the loveeee toniiiight

Marinette’s gaze wandered around the room as she sipped on her sparkling apple juice, her foot absentmindedly tapping to the beat of the music. The party was in full swing, and so far, everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

Her classmates were laughing, even Chloé and Lila (separately, of course), hanging out in small groups around the buffet, or showing off their moves on the dancefloor. No sign of an Akuma anywhere. Everything was perfect.

A slight frown creased Marinette’s forehead as she realised that there was one person whom she hadn’t seen yet, and she was starting to wonder what was keeping him when she sensed a presence behind her.

"Hey, Marinette." Adrien almost managed to sneak up on her, but he was less discrete than Chat Noir. She turned around, a bright smile gracing her lips. There he was.

Adrien's breath caught as he took in exactly how pretty Marinette looked in her dress. He’d known she'd been bound to look good in it; firstly, because Marinette was always pretty, it was an undeniable fact; secondly, the dress had been very pretty on the mannequin, too, so really it would have been a feat for it not to be nice when worn.

Yet nothing could've prepared him for the synergistic effect of both, the garment falling gracefully on her, hugging her in all the right places.

"You look... Amazing, did you make that dress yourself?" He blushed as he averted his gaze to meet her eyes. He noticed she was wearing her hair half up, which really was a lovely look on her.

"Thanks, and yes," Marinette's cheeks pinked as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was aiming to not be overdressed, but..." Her eyes went back to the open space. Adrien saw that even though a couple of their classmates had thrown on a blazer, most had showed up in their usual attire.

"You're perfect." He smiled, before tutting. "The others are underdressed. We had a planned party for once, and yet... Really, people could have made a bit more of an effort."

Marinette turned towards him. Adrien’s hands were casually buried in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his usual jeans, but a suit, darker than the one she’d always seen him wear. "At least you seem to have gotten the memo. New suit?"

"Good eye. It's part of Father's next collection." He grinned.

"We're so lucky to get an exclusive preview." Her hand hovered midway between them, hesitant to touch the fabric.

"It's not entirely benevolent, though. I'm supposed to crash test it, to see if it withstands being worn." He adjusted his cufflinks. "Actually, would you do me the honour of dancing with me? Purely for experimental purposes, obviously." He bowed before her and winked.

"Of course." She giggled at his antics, an odd feeling of déjà vu nagging at her. She knew she was talking to Adrien, and yet… There was something about him tonight that made her think of a certain someone else. She brushed the thought away, blaming it on the dark suit, as she put her glass down and took his hand, following him to the dancefloor.

Adrien caught Nino's eye, and the latter nodded at him with a wide smile. He made an ok sign before changing the track.

“Time to shake things up in here, time to get a little rock’n roll!” he announced in his best DJ voice.

“Up for the challenge?” Adrien asked Marinette.

She nodded, mentally thanking Chat Noir for the refresher course he’d given her. He really had her back whatever the situation, huh?

They started swinging their arms to the rhythm; she remembered to trace hearts in the air to show professionalism. Then the rhythm picked up, and the show really started.

Adrien picked up the pace and Marinette smoothly followed, starting with easy figures; twirl in, twirl out, half-waltz, yoyo, hand exchange, double stroke. People looked on curiously as Marinette cocked an eyebrow at Adrien, daring him to level it up.

He smirked and lifted her briefly, resumed a couple of simple passes, then, as she spun back into his embrace, he dipped her. Somebody (probably Alya), hooted in the crowd.

“Ready for a flip?” He was slightly breathless, his hair a little dishevelled.

Marinette’s heart was beating quite fast and although she was flushed, she knew it was just from the exercise. The thought rattled her a bit.

“Show me what you got, Agreste.” She put on her most confident smile and he pulled her up. His hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her, throwing her in the air. Her flight lasted a couple of seconds, during which she didn’t hear their audience’s gasps, and then she was back in Adrien’s strong arms, cushioning her landing.

Cheers erupted around them as the song faded out, and they remained embraced, slightly panting from the dance.

“That was amazing, Marinette,” Adrien whispered in her ear, with a slightly disbelieving chuckle. He’d managed to catch her without the Miraculous suit’s help. The doubt had invaded his mind just as she’d left his arms, and he hoped she never knew how terrified he’d been of dropping her.

“Yeah,” she panted.

Suddenly the guitar solo of Toto’s Won't hold you back now echoed through the restaurant.

Adrien’s eyes met Nino’s, and his friend winked at him. A crazy idea crossed his mind. He’d enjoyed his time with Marinette so much over the past months. Dating her as Chat Noir was definitely a bad idea and he definitely had to put an end to it, but what if… What if he asked her out as Adrien? Yes, there’d still be that massive secret hanging between them, that he moonlit as one of Paris’ superheroes. But being on the other side of the mask, the one that got to talk to her every day without having to make up excuses as to why he was at her balcony, that could just turn around in his seat to tell her how beautiful she was, would make things so much easier.

If she’d fallen in love with Chat Noir, she’d technically already be in love with him, although he’d of course pull all the stops to make sure she felt as cherished as she deserved, and do his best to conceal the fact that her ex and her present boyfriend were actually the same person. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought about Marinette more than he’d had about Ladybug lately. This was the perfect opportunity to move on from his partner.

"Hey, it's our song." He commented, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

"O-our?" Marinette stammered, pulling away slightly from him.

"The one we danced to at Chloé's last party, remember?" He felt his cheeks warm up at the thought that he might have spoken out of turn, or worse, that she might have forgotten, when the memory regularly invaded his dreams. She’d seemed almost shocked at his choice of words.

"Oh, right." She gave him a small smile before moving a little closer to him.

It wasn’t exactly to snuggle up to him, although she supposed it probably looked like it, given Alya’s enthusiastic thumbs up she caught as they danced; she just needed to hide her face from him. Adrien led their steps, which was just as well since her overthinking brain was too busy trying to compute his words.

Was he... Making a move on her? She looked up and their eyes locked, his gaze softening as they did. He twirled her before catching her, holding her a little closer than before. She didn't mind.

Then he unexpectedly dipped her, and looked as if he was about to say something to her. His eyes were full of affection, like hers in almost all of the pictures of her looking at him that had been taken before a couple of months ago. She could almost feel the virtual pink bubbles that surrounded her.

She paled.

Maybe she was finally getting what she'd wanted since the first real conversation they'd had. Maybe this was it . But then why did it feel so… wrong? Why did her heart tell her to bolt? Why did she want to be in Chat Noir's arms at that precise moment?

"Marinette? Is everything ok?" Adrien pulled her up, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"It's just a bit warm, I haven't eaten much today. I'll just go and grab something from the buffet." She waved in its direction, putting up a brave smile to conceal her rattled state. What was it with Chat Noir invading her thoughts tonight? She needed to get a grip.

"Want me to come with you?" He really looked concerned, and she felt bad for worrying him.

"I’ll be fine, thanks. Keep testing out your suit." She patted his shoulder gently before heading off.

He watched her walk away, slightly disconcerted. He'd felt so confident that he'd be able to reproduce the unadulterated joy his friend had displayed when they'd danced in her room, yet somehow he seemed to have gone a step too far.

But then again... Maybe it all boiled down to who she'd been with then (well, who she’d known she was with).

He knew it wasn't a good idea. But he had to check his theory. His heart commanded it.

---

Marinette tried her best to act like a wallflower next to the buffet, something that might have worked better if she hadn't undisputedly been the prettiest girl in the room, and if she'd been standing near an actual wall and not a bay window. Those were Chat Noir's thoughts, anyway, as he watched her from outside, perched on his baton, holding back from knocking on the closest window just to see her sway gently to the rhythm of the music.

Then he saw her nibbling at her nails, confirming that something was troubling her.

She must have sensed that she was being watched, because she turned around before his fist could tap on the window. Their eyes met, and for a second she looked slightly surprised, a little taken aback, even, by his presence, before a smile bloomed on her lips. He could have sworn that she was relieved. He wished that he could've taken a picture of her at that exact moment.

“You really felt like you needed to patrol tonight?” She asked as she opened the window for him.

“Well, I know they say that the mice dance when the cat’s away, but this cat felt like it was missing out.” He pointed to himself and pouted.

“Poor kitty.” She scratched his neck. He almost let out a purr, but managed to hold it in.

“Anyway, I see a mouse that isn’t dancing, and I’d argue that’s a criminal offence.” He shot her a pointed look.

“It’s not like I haven’t danced already.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we were quite a success.”

“I know, I was there.” He winked.

She  looked at her feet sheepishly, and he regretted his choice of words. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking, I think the rooftop’s empty, would you like to get out of here, maybe?”

“Please.” She grabbed a chair and helped herself up, climbing out of the window after checking nobody was looking. Chat pushed the window pane shut after she’d gotten on his lap and extended his baton upwards, letting go of her when they’d reached the top floor.

Marinette took a deep breath as she leaned on the railing, looking at the view. Dark, warning clouds had gathered on the horizon, but she only saw the full moon, standing unobstructed in the sky and reflecting in the pool.

The music was faintly audible from below. Marinette shuffled around to face Chat Noir.

“So… Since you were complaining about this mouse not dancing… How about you right that wrong?”

“‘Twould be my pleasure, princess.” He took her hand and guided her out.

“A waltz?” Marinette raised an eyebrow after the first couple of steps. “I thought they were passées .”

“I wouldn’t want you to have practised for nothing,” he said softly. “Plus, nobody’s here to judge us for being old-fashioned.”

She let out a content sigh as he gently pressed his cheek to her temple (they couldn’t dance cheek to cheek even with her kitten heels). She closed her eyes and revelled in the moment.

Gently swaying in the moonlight, Chat humming along to the music ( La vie en rose, probably a request from Juleka), it was like time had stopped, and she wished they could stay in this perfect bubble forever, one where she didn’t have to question her feelings, where she could just enjoy the moment.

Marinette felt something light land on her shoulder. Then on her nose.

Chat must have felt it too, because they both looked up. The moon was gone, hidden by stormy clouds. The rain’s pace picked up. They looked at each other, Marinette’s gaze questioning what they should do.

Chat Noir purred, afraid she’d let go of him. Marinette let out a crystalline laugh, an exquisite sound he knew he’d never grow tired of hearing.

She held him closer, eyes fluttering shut once more as she smiled, her cheek pressed to his chest, enjoying the gentle vibrations.

This was it. She was right where she wanted to be.

[wouldpollyapprove]

Promises, Promises

Request: 11 and 13 angst with Tommy? 🥺❤️

Requested by @jenepleurepasbaby

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, angst, not edited

A/N: I’m kinda happy with how this turned out. Like always, I rushed the ending because I got bored. But I think it’s still pretty good. So, when reading this you guys may be confused by the “workhouse howl”. It’s a term related to the workhouse that poor families worked at throughout England. I don’t know too much about it, but it was referenced in Call the Midwife and when I watched the scene it was in I wanted to cry because everything surrounding that is super sad. I also might do a fic that has more to do with the workhouses, I’ll just have to do a little more research first.

Masterlist

The deal they had made upon getting married was that work wasn’t to come home. As soon as either of them stepped foot in the house, all business, all work-related talk, was to be dropped. Shelby Company Limited, the Peaky Blinders, neither of them had a place in their house. Tommy had agreed to deal for one reason and one reason only; as Y/n didn’t work for him, it kept her out of the business and danger. It was the perfect safety net. Perfect until it wasn’t.

“Where’s Tommy?” Y/n asked Esme as she walked through the empty betting shop in search of her husband. Taking her hat off, she set it on the table and took a seat in front of her sister-in-law.

“He’s not here.” Her curt answer caused the woman across from her to frown.

A sigh escaped her lips as Y/n leaned back in her chair. She had walked all the way from her mother’s house, feet sore from the shoes that were only meant show, for nothing. “Do you know where he is?”

Esme quickly glanced up at her, “No.” When asked where her own husband was, she said, “With Tommy.”

Y/n shook her head, loose curls bouncing with the action. She knew better than to trust a word Esme said. John told her everything, if he was with Tommy, she would know where the two were. “Alright, then,” she drawled and got to her feet. Leaving the woman behind her, she entered the kitchen to find Finn sitting at the table. It was a surprise to see him away from his brothers that he admired so much, but a welcome one. “What are you doing here?”

The boy looked up from the deck of cards in front of him, a smile appeared on his face upon seeing the woman who had become much like a mother to him. “Playing cards.”

She nodded and pulled out the chair next to him. Taking a seat, she asked, “Why aren’t you with your brothers?”

Taking a card out of the deck, Finn flipped it over. the woman beside him had no clue what card he was looking for, but the one that was pulled out clearly wasn’t the one when his lips turned down in a frown. “Tommy said he doesn’t need a kid fucking up his meeting,” he mumbled, either upset at his brother’s words or the card that he couldn’t find.

“Finn! Watch your tongue,” Y/n scolded before she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to her. “He’s just trying to protect you, okay?” What she wanted to say was, ‘You don’t fuck things up, you’re brother does,’ but she held her tongue. No one needed to know how much the man had been pissing her off lately but her. “Where is he anyway?”

“At your house.”

Y/n raised a brow, trying to put the puzzle together. How could he be at their house if he was in a meeting? “Where’s the meeting at?”

Going back to his game, Finn couldn’t see the dangerous mixture of anger and fear in his sister-in-law’s eyes when he answered. “Your house.”

“You have fun, okay?” Y/n ruffled his hair, earning a groan from him as she pushed herself up and was out the door before he could even respond.

How dare he! 

Y/n wouldn’t have been angry, she probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought if it weren’t for the fact that she knew her husband kept everything from her. What started out as a simple agreement to leave work at the office had turned into something much more. Y/n was kept in the dark about everything. Every little thing. She didn’t work for the company, so when secrets were shared between his family, she thought nothing of it. If she were meant to know, then she would know, right? Wrong.

She was to know nothing. 

The first clue was when her questions would go unanswered. Polly was the best at dodging her questions. The woman was a master at weaving a sentence that made Y/n feel as though her question had been answered. Any word that came off her tongue was done so with confidence and kindness, how could anyone believe it to be a lie? John and Arthur always played dumb when she asked them anything. To Y/n, it made sense. There were many things that Tommy even kept from his family, so it was no surprise to his wife if his own brothers didn’t know what was going on. But then there was Esme. She was the worst about, not even bothering to concoct a decent lie. The gypsy didn’t care whether she was believed or not, she did what her husband and her boss told her to. If she was told to keep her mouth shut about business matters, it would be shut and she would do her best to make sure everyone knew they would never get an answer out of her. Her replies were the opposite of Polly’s in that way. They were curd and short. Esme didn’t care if Y/n believed her, it wasn’t her job to make that happen.

The only one that hadn’t gotten the memo not to say a word to Y/n, was Finn. Not like he would have listened anyway. 

Knowing her husband had deliberately kept things from her stung. And knowing that, it wouldn’t surprise her if this kept his family from fully trusting her. God, it was like adding salt to the wound once the thought crossed her mind. They probably wondered why he would marry her if she couldn’t be trusted with simple matters of business.

Y/n couldn’t pick an emotion as she walked the streets of Small Heath. Rage bubbled inside, encasing her heart, feeling as she had been betrayed. Pelting her like rain, sadness landed on her exposed skin, quickly being absorbed and running through her blood street. Fire and ice, what she felt was burning and cold. A heartache that she never could have predicted. 

The people on the street must have seen the conflict inside her as they gazed at her with pity and sorrow. None of them wanted to feel the pain the young woman was experiencing, that they knew. So, they parted like the Red Sea, allowing her a swift route to her front door. They dare do anything to cause any more grief. The people of the area knew too well what grief could do to the soul as everyone was familiar with the sound of the workhouse howl.

Arriving on her doorstep, Y/n forced herself to take a deep breath. Was she ready for what was behind the door?

No. 

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t ready to be hit by a brick wall. Wasn’t ready for every truth the family had ever told her to be brought under questioning. For every lie to be raised from the dead. Y/n wasn’t ready for the world she knew to fall apart like a crumbling building.

Instead of reaching for the handle, instead of opening the door and facing her problems head-on, Y/n did the only thing she could think of. She ran. Her mother would scold her for such a thing, abandoning her problems on the doorstep, but it had to be done. She wasn’t in the proper headspace to deal with what Tommy had done. 

People weren’t fast to move as the young woman weaved between them. She was left to dodge women and their small children, carts being pulled by men that had seen better day, children that smiled at her behavior. Step after step, stride after stride, Y/n let her feet carry her to the part of the city that had been left to decay. Small, broken, wooden factories that were left to the past once the brick ones over towered them. They knew her pain, whether anyone would believe it, they knew her pain. The abandoned buildings knew what it was like to be stabbed in the back by those they trusted. They knew what it was like to watch the world go on without them and no one bat an eye that they had been left behind. 

Y/n slowed her pace as she neared the canal that ran near a few of the buildings. Standing on the edge, she closed her eyes and screamed. It was blood-curdling and matched her sorrow. The screams echoed down the empty street. She screamed and screamed, knowing that no one would come rushing to her aide, until she could scream no more. 

Voice hoarse, she collapsed against the cement belong, the skirt of her dress falling around her legs. Tears finally escaped, racing down her cheek like a river after a heavy storm. She didn’t bother to wipe them away, letting them fall against the material of her skirt. Y/n didn’t have it in herself to care, not with what she’d have to deal with once she returned home.

“Why does he do this?” she muttered between the sobs. “Why?”

Oh, yes, why did Thomas Shelby always find ways to fuck things up? It was a mystery to everyone, even his own wife. Y/n wanted to believe he trusted her, she wanted to believe that his family trusted her, accepted her, but that couldn’t be done with the hole that had been dug for her. What could bring her to the same level as everyone else? What could keep them from burying her alive? Y/n didn’t know, the answers had been taken from her by the one person she trusted the most. 

“I’ve do-done nothing!” She fell onto her back, the cloudy sky above greeting her. “Nothing…”

She stayed like that for what must have been hours. Letting her heartbeat slow to normal and her tears dry up. Letting the burning, the fire inside her become nothing but warm embers. When she felt calm, when the sun was starting to sink below the relics of around her, Y/n got to her feet. Brushing off the dirt, she slowly made her way back home, her legs screaming at her for what she had made them do.

It was almost dark when Y/n opened the door to the house she shared with the last person she wanted to see. Before shutting the door, words traveled down the hall, catching her ear. They couldn’t be made out, but it was clear Tommy wasn’t alone. When the door hit the frame, there was silence. 

“Y/n?” Tommy questioned, stepping out of the kitchen to see her figure in the shadows of the unlit hallway. There was no answer as his wife walked past him, not even a glance his way, as she headed to the parlor. “Where have you been?” he asked, voice laced with worry. “No one has seen you in hours.”

The words fell on deaf ears. With her back to him, Y/n opened the liquor cabinet and, bypassing the whiskey, pulled out a bottle of vodka. Her husband’s choice of drink wouldn’t be strong enough to numb everything. Grabbing a glass, she filled it almost to the rim. Arthur, John, and Polly appeared in the doorway behind Tommy just in time to witness the polish remover to be downed in a few seconds. Y/n set it back down forcefully, the sound of glass against wood left her unfazed. She didn’t care if the delicate glass were to break. Hell, she wanted to throw it and the bottle against the wall, watch it shatter. 

“Y/n,” he said gently as he approached her much like he would a wild horse. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she answered, pouring herself another glass. A hand grasped the bottle, stopping the clear liquid from filling her glass. Y/n did nothing as the lid was put on the bottle and moved from her reach.

“Why are you lying?”

A harsh laugh escaped her lips. “Why am I lying?” Y/n violently turned towards him, wondering why a liar would ask such a question. “I should be the one asking that question! Asking why you all are lying to me, keeping things from my,  and doing business in my own home without my knowledge!” she screamed at all the people in the room. 

Tommy sighed as Y/n stormed past him, heading for the refuge of their room. “Is that why you didn’t come home?” he asked, angry that she would worry him over this.

“Yes,” she spat as Arthur and John moved for her. “I was going to go back home, but then I remembered that you live here too!”

Silence once again filled the house, Y/n ascending the stairs, while her family, in shock, past glances around the room. Polly was the first to speak up, disgust evident when she looked at her nephew. “Now, look what you’ve done,” she hissed, moving to stand by the fireplace. “I warned you that she would be hurt by this, but you never listen.”

Tommy gave no reaction, instead focusing his eyes on the vodka he’d placed in front of him. He didn’t need the harsh words of his aunt’s to make him regret his decisions. He knew good and well that he’d gone too far, he always went too far. 

All the man wanted was to keep the woman he loved out of danger. That was easier to be done if she were kept out of the spotlight. If she weren’t present at meetings, working in the betting shop, or accompanying her husband to different business arrangements, there was little chance that she would be caught in the crossfire. But with that mindset, Tommy had done the one thing he knew dreamed of; he broke her heart and caused her to question his trust.

No one in the room needed to tell him that he may never mend what was broken, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe there would be no consequences for his actions.

Y/n was spread out on the bed, staring at the textured ceiling, when the door creaked open, exposing her husband. Tommy made sure his steps were soft, he’d waited for her to calm down, not wanting to cause a raging fight where words would be said that couldn’t be taken back. “I’m sorry.” From where he stood, he could see Y/n roll her eyes. It hurt that she didn’t believe him when he wasn’t one to throw around apologies. Sighing, Tommy made his way to the bed, the mattress sinking against his weight as he sat beside her. “I am sorry that I’ve hurt you, love. I never intended to do that.”

Feeling his gaze, Y/n tried to keep her tears at bay as she said, “Then why’d you do it?”

“I wanted to… I wanted to protect you,” Tommy admitted, a hand grazing over the one that laid beside him. It was taken as a sign of progress when Y/n didn’t move her hand out of his reach. 

She scoffed, “And that meant living in a house full of lies? All I asked was for the workday to end once you come home.”

“I know, I know.”

There was silence as Y/n pushed herself into a sitting position. Finally meeting his eyes, Y/n could see the regret that contoured his features and the sadness that pooled in his eyes. A hand went to cup his cheek, the man melting against her touch. “This will not continue, do you understand me? We will be equals in knowledge.” He nodded as her fingers rubbed circles on along his skin. “I don’t want to be apart of the business, but I don’t want you to hide it from me.”

Lips turning up in a smile, Tommy wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against her’s. “Are those all your demands?” he teased, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When she nodded, he continued, “Then you will get all that you ask for and more.”

“I’m still mad at you even with these promises,” Y/n admitted, “And you break them, you will have to find yourself a new home and a new wife.”

Tommy simply nodded, he knew there would be consequences and he fully accepted them. He had cut a deep wound and it would take time for it heal. If Y/n didn’t wish to see him or be near him, let him touch or speak to her, he would understand that. Any punishment given would be understandable.

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to any of the tag lists.

Permanent: @amirahiddleston​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @woahitslucyylu​ @mzcrazy2​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @multi-fandom-iimagines​ @tarafaithe​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @fernweh-fangirl​ @the-anxious-youth​ @theshelbyclan​ @wtfdanness​ @chloeforde​ @futuristicslimemongerbanana​ @lucillethings​ @nemesis729​ @sirkekselord​ @princesscornbread​ @i-volunteer-for-finnick​ @iwillboilyourteeth​ @anyasthoughts​ @ellieemais​

Peaky Blinders: @simonesbluee

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[kunstpause-archive]

Read on Ao3

Day 7: Speculate

small continuation from day 5 and 6

“Working late again?”

A tiny spark of excitement runs through you as you hear the familiar voice coming from your doorway. You hadn’t seen Hades again for the past two days. Then again, the last two evenings you had actually taken is advice to heart and gone home at a regular hour. Not today, though. Today you are swamped with work.

“I think my boss hates me!” 

“Pardon me?” he asks, and as you look up, you are greeted by an utterly confused look.

“Well, maybe he doesn’t hate me,” you admit. 

You haven’t even met the man in charge yet. At least not personally. Busy as he seemed to be, all your communication had been via the internal emails and memos.

“But maybe he just has it in for me,” you claim with a skeptical look at your to-do list.

“Why would you think that?” Hades murmurs, and with a sigh, you shake your head.

“Well, the task lists are all over the place, there is absolutely no system behind what is due when, and I don’t think his way of referencing past projects is in any way compatible with the actual filing system the company seems to employ,” you explain what has you so busy on this evening.

“So you’re saying he’s really bad at organizing?” he asks with a raised brow.

“That would be the very polite way to say it, yes,” you chuckle as you tear your eyes away from your laptop. “But don’t tell anyone I said that,” you hurry to add, as you realize that complaining about your boss in a company you’re new in might not be the wisest thing to do.

At your suddenly worried look, Hades lets out a soft laugh.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he says with a small wink. “Your secret is safe with me.”

It’s only now you see he carries a tray with two cups with him, and your eyes widen as he takes one and hands it to you.

“I saw the light on my way down and thought you could use a coffee if you’re still up here and working,” he explains. “And the coffee cart outside is far better than anything you can get in here, I promise!”

“Thank you, that is very kind of you,” you murmur as you take the steaming cup. It smells absolutely fantastic, and for a moment, you close your eyes, savoring the scent. “You know, I actually took your advice the last few days,” you add when you open your eyes again.

“Oh, that’s why I didn’t see you around,” Hades comments with a smile, and though it sounds like an aside note, it makes you perk up.

“You were looking for me?”

The thought sends a small spark of giddiness through you as you try not to look too eager at your question.

“Keeping an eye out for a fellow late-worker,” Hades says with a casual shrug, but there is this way his eyes linger on your face for a moment that nearly makes your stomach flutter. Hastily, you take a sip from your drink to keep yourself from thinking too much about it. It tastes indeed much better than any office coffee you have had.

“Damn, this is good coffee,” you say with a smile at him before you wonder, “So, do you actually ever leave this palace?”

Hades snorts before he gives you a slightly indignant look.

“I do; I just went to the coffee cart,” he points out. “It’s outside!”

At his completely dry tone, you can’t help but laugh.

“No, I mean really,” you try again, looking at him expectantly. “Nobody’s trying to drag you away from work, ever?”

For a moment, you worry you sound like you are prying into his personal life, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it that way at all. Instead, he simply smiles and shakes his head.

“You know I have a friend upstairs who regularly tries,” Hades says with a grave nod. “He sends me pictures of everyday things and explains them in detail to me like I’m some kind of hermit.”

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is fond and not at all put out.

“Really?” you grin at the amusing thought, and with a nod, Hades puts his own coffee aside for a moment to reach for his phone. He adjusts his glasses as he scrolls through his messages until he seems to find what he is looking for.

“Listen, just today, he sent me a picture of a duck and wrote: Hades, this is a duck, it’s a local species of waterfowl one can observe when going outside and to the park for longer than two minutes. Sincerely, Hyth.”

You can’t help but start laughing as he reads with a slightly changed voice, probably imitating said friend as he relays the message.

“I think he’s trying to tell you something…” you point out with raised eyebrows, and Hades gives you a grave nod, looking almost utterly serious, except for the spark of delight in his eyes.

“I know, but what might it be?”

His again utterly dry tone makes you chuckle again, and this time, before you can think any better of it, you ask what’s really on your mind.

“I’m guessing you live alone then?”

You think you did a thoroughly fine job of sounding casual, but from the way he pauses briefly, it doesn’t seem like all that. A slow smile spreads over his face.

“Are you asking if I’m single?”

You count yourself lucky that you are not drinking your coffee at the moment, for at the blatant way he looks at you at his words, you would have certainly spluttered and made a fool of yourself.

“I am not,” you claim hastily, but the slight flush in your cheeks is something he most likely notices if the way his eyes still sparkle at you is any indication. Something in you just gives up the pretense, and you smile at him. “Are you, though?”

“I have not had that many opportunities to meet new people lately,” he says with a slight shrug, and you try hard not to read into his eyes what you would like to see in them.

“No shit,” you reply with a laugh. “How would you if you never leave work?”

“Actually, I got a message about that too,” he says, and then he is back to scrolling through his phone.

A moment later, he takes a step closer and holds it out for you to see. On his screen is a message from said ‘Hyth.’ It’s a picture of a crowded street, and underneath it says:

Hey, Hades! These are other people. They can be found outside and in nearly almost any location that isn’t your office! And no, looking out the window into the park doesn’t count!

You chuckle again at reading the message. It seems that your first impression of this man being a complete workaholic has been absolutely spot on.

“Wow,” you murmur when something else catches your interest. “Wait, you have an office facing the park?”

When he nods, you let out an impressed whistle. 

“Lucky bastard!”

“Well…” he starts, but what he is trying to say, you don’t find out, as something else is on your mind, and the words are out before you let him finish.

“Oh, you work higher up, don’t you?” you ask, and for a moment, he gives you a slightly thrown look before he scratches the back of his neck.

“Uhm, yes, you could say that,” he answers, and a broad smile appears on your face.

“Brilliant,” you exclaim, only for him to frown, and immediately you try to tone down your exuberance. You certainly don’t want to give off the impression like you want to… No!

“Wait, that sounded awful,” you murmur. “I’m not… I wasn’t trying…” For a moment, you splutter, looking for the right words before you shake your head once to clear it.

“Here’s the thing,” you start again, sounding much more leveled. “I have some ideas on how to make some of this more efficient, streamline it a bit, you know?” Broadly, you gesture on the open task lists sitting on your laptop. “It would certainly also make the process easier for my boss. Less effort for everyone means everyone wins, right?” You look from your plans back to where Hades regards you with a curious look now, and you wince slightly. 

“But I feel kind of awkward just writing an email going, ‘hey, let’s change everything you do because it’s bullshit!’ - I’m the new girl, after all,” you point out before giving him a winning smile. “Do you think you could hook me up with someone there that I can talk this through and not come across as rude?”

His earlier frown is completely gone as he regards you with a thoughtful look.

“Bullshit, huh?” he asks, picking up your phrase. “It is that bad?”

Maybe you should have phrased this nicer. You don’t even know if he is perhaps on excellent terms within your boss, but to your relief, he doesn’t look put out at all, just… thoughtful. And slightly amused?

“Well, I could sugarcoat it,” you murmur, but Hades shakes his head with a small laugh.

“You could give your ideas to me, and I could slide them into a conversation perhaps,” he suggests, before he assures you, “I’ll make sure you get all the credit, of course.”

“Really?” You perk up; this seems like a wonderfully straightforward yet easy solution. “That would be such a great help, thank you!”

“If you turn them into something on paper I can have at hand to reference, that would be great,” he suggests. “I’m afraid if you email things to me, they might get lost in my day-to-day schedule.”

At his almost apologetic look at that, you have to chuckle again.

“Oh, so you are also organisationally challenged then?” you tease. “Or you really don’t want to give me your email…”

At that, his eyes spark again as he puts his phone away at picks his coffee back up.

“Or, perhaps, I want a perfectly valid excuse to show up tomorrow night at your office again, my dear,” he says smoothly and with an accompanying look that has you actually taking in a sharper breath.

“I guess it will remain a mystery,” you reply after a long moment before you add with a smile, “I’ll have something to show you tomorrow then?”

“Same time tomorrow then,” Hades agrees before he wishes you a good night and leaves you to your own devices.

It’s about work, you fiercely remind yourself, and yet everything about the way the two of you had talked feels like it is definitely more than that. It doesn’t even bother you that same time tomorrow means you’d have to stay late again. 

[jbsforever]

for moments like these

A million years ago, I started a story inspired by another one of @spidey-art‘s wonderful pieces of work. It just occurred to me I never posted it, so here it is!

(some lines of dialogue near the end belong to her.)

- - -

Peter comes back to life in the fall of 2023, five years after his death. He's sixteen still, because the world kept moving without him, because he blinked himself to ashes and woke again, caught up with time and found himself the same in a universe so different and new. Welcome back, welcome home.

So he's sixteen and he's standing in the bathroom of the Stark cabin upstate, smudging blue paint across his cheek. The sink faucet runs blistering hot and Pepper is in the doorway watching him, her mouth curled in amusement. Peter meets her eyes in the reflection of the mirror as she announces, professional voice and all, “Princess Morgan would like you to know you're late to the royal tea party.”

Peter laughs. “Oops,” he says, and dips his hands under the water to wash them clean. His fingertips are stained colorful, strong with the smell of Morgan's fruit-scented markers. “My apologies to her highness.”

“She hasn't threatened to behead you yet,” Pepper says. “So I think you're okay. She seemed more interested in trying to make Tony wear a dress.”

What an image, Peter thinks, laughing, and asks, “I'm guessing she didn't succeed?”

Pepper smirks. “Not even close.”

“Worth a try,” Peter says, and smiles at Pepper in the mirror, soft, polite. “Please let the princess know I'll be down soon.” 

Pepper doesn’t leave right away, just hovers there, eyeing the multi-colored clips in his hair, the bands Morgan twisted through his curls with all the haphazard grace of an over-excited four-year-old. She coughs into her fist like she's trying not to laugh. “As you wish, Sir Peter,” she says, and mutters to herself, on the way out, “Tony is gonna love this.”

Ah, Peter muses, drying his hands on a towel, there it is. 

He gets it, the ridiculous of it all, the pure, raw irony of the blue star drawn on his cheek sat perfectly where a bruise blossomed just weeks ago, fresh and bright from the fight to save the universe. It’s stupid, but in a fond, comforting way. Peter can’t quite explain how it unravels something warm inside him, something that begs for normalcy, for the hours he can't get back in the years he wasn't around. Tony is always telling him this is what he needs – normalcy. Like he doesn’t need it too.

Downstairs, May and Pepper are drinking from wine glasses, and they watch Peter go by in his socked feet and his pink apron, their voices strained and wavering as they try to keep it together.

“Wow, Peter,” May says. “I've never seen you look better.”

“Tea party icon for sure,” Pepper adds. “Just look at that apron.”

“Can you give me fashion tips later? I have a date.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

Normalcy. A part of him has been searching for it since he was a child, since he lost his parents and longed for something to make sense again, those nights Ben sat by his bed, holding him as he cried, as he mourned, saying, “You just have to take it one day at a time.” Peter didn't understand what that meant. He hid away under his covers, in a room that wasn't his own, in a house that wasn't his own, and Ben waited patiently the whole time, peeled away the layers bit by bit and guided Peter to his feet to stand with him at his door, looking out into the hall, out into the world.

“I'm not asking you to run a marathon,” Ben said. “It takes time to be okay again.” And he shifted around to stand in front of Peter, on the other side of the threshold, some invisible line between them. “Just take this step. That's all.”

“And then what?” Peter whispered.

“And then we'll figure it out,” Ben said.

One piece at a time. Peter steps now through the front door of the cabin and onto the porch. At the edge of the yard near the lake, Tony and Morgan are waiting, and Peter joins them, sits in a chair too small at a table he can't fit his knees under. It's warm outside, warmer than normal for this time of year, but the world is different and Peter is different and they're all just taking steps the only way they know how.

“You're late,” Tony says, judging from beneath his sunglasses, a set of paintings on his face to rival Peter's and a black witch's hat on top his head. Peter snorts and accepts the teacup Morgan thrusts his way.

“I sent my apologies via the messenger,” Peter says.

“Don't let Pepper hear you call her that,” Tony replies, knocking his leg against the teddy bear in the seat next to his. He rights it again before it can fall over. “Actually, do. I want to see what happens,” he says, and pats the teddy bear's back, adding, “Sorry, Doug.”

Morgan fumbles with her teapot. “He says he'll forgive you if I can have your sandwich.”

“Square deal,” Tony agrees. “That's bribery, by the way.”

“Nuh-uh,” Morgan argues. “Mommy says bribery usually involves money.”

“I'm concerned why you two were discussing this,” Tony says, and shifts his gaze to Peter while Morgan shrugs and starts examining the inside of her teapot, her nose scrunching, expression concerned. Tony slants Peter a critical look.

“What are you supposed to be again?” he asks, at the exact moment Morgan yells, “Oh no, Daddy! The tea is poison!”

“I'm tea party icon, Mrs. Nesbit,” Peter says, swallowing a laugh. “Obviously.” 

Tony hums a little and takes a sip of his apple juice. 

Peter says, as serious as he can muster, “I don't know if you got the three-second-ago memo, but that's poison now.”

Tony takes another sip. “Shame.”

“I'll save you!” Morgan declares, jumping up and clutching the teapot tight. She races off toward the house, her red cape billowing behind her, her cowboy boots clunking across the wood of the porch.

In her wake, Tony asks, “Think she's coming back?” 

“Probably,” Peter says, and so they both sit there, a silence settling between them, a quiet, private feeling they don't have to explain. Peter’s sure Tony gets it too, the ridiculousness of it all, how a month before this they stood side-by-side in a place of war and now they're sitting at a plastic table and everything is saved and everything is different and none of it quite makes sense. They don't have to say it.

Time is strange. It's a fickle thing, a monstrosity of grief and pain and love. But somewhere in it, you breathe – for moments like these, the warmth of the sun on your face, the feel of the grass beneath your feet. Peter doesn't have Ben to guide him anymore, but there are still people waiting on the other side of the threshold, ready to help him move mountains. One step at a time.

“Well,” Tony says, raising his cup, “To poisoned tea,” and Peter raises his cup too.

That's the thing about the world: through all the trials and tribulations, it learns to heal again.

“To poisoned tea,” Peter says, and he takes a breath.

He's learning to heal again too.

.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #838: Meeting the Sisters (King of Fighters)

6:45 p.m. Outside of the Yabuki's Residence.......

K': (Looks Up at the House Along With Rock and Kula) This is the place?

Shingo: (Happily Nodded) Yep! My home sweet home. Might not be the best looking house in the world, but I still love it..

Rock: (Smiles Softly at the House) I dunno about that, Shingo. From all the houses we've seen so far, yours looks pretty good.

Kula: Ooh! (Turns to Shingo With an Excited Look on her Face) Is there gonna be ice cream in there?~

Shingo: (Happily Nodded) You bet. My sister picked up some groceries yesterday. So there's plenty of it to come around.

Kula: (Happily Cheers) Yay!~

Rock: (Eyes Widened a Bit) Wait. You have a sister?

Shingo: Yep. I have two of them actually. The oldest and the youngest. (Takes Out his Home Key From his Pocket) They can be handful sometimes, but trust me, they are just as amazing as you guys are right now.

Kula: (Touched by Shingo's Words) Aww~

Rock: (Chuckles Lightly) Well, if that's the case, I can't wait to meet them all ready.

K': (Starts Smirking at Shingo) I bet that they're as hyperactive as you are, Yabuki.

Shingo: (Smiles Sheepishly at the Gang) I.... wouldn't exactly say that both of them are that way. (Starts Using the Key to Unlock the Door) I mean, my little sister can be energetic at times, but big sis has always been the mature one in the family. She even takes of us whenever mom and dad aren't home.

Rock: Neat.

'Door Open'

Shingo: Guuuuys! I'm back home with gue-

?????: ONEE-CHAN!!!

Without warning, a girl with pigtails, hug tackles Shingo into the ground.

'THUD'

?????: (Smiles Brightly at Shingo) Welcome home, big bro!~

Shingo: (Sighs While Smiling a Bit Sheepishly) Nice to see you too, Naomi......

?????: Honestly, Naomi.....

The gang turns to see an older woman with glasses making her way towards her siblings while having her arms crossed.

?????: How many times do I have to tell you not to hug tackle our brother every time he comes home?

Naomi: ('UGGGH') Relax, Tsubaki! You gotta stop worrying about us all the time. We're fiiine!

Tsubaki: (Gives Naomi an Older Sisterly Glare) Well, maybe if you two quit being reckless, I wouldn't HAVE to get worried all the time! You're my younger siblings, and-

Naomi: (Starts Rolling her Eyes) We know....."Keeping us safe and healthy will always be your #1 properties above everything else" I'm sure we got the memo of that for as long as we can remember.

Tsubaki: (Stares Down at her Younger Sister For a Brief Second Before Sighing) Glad we're on the same page I suppose.... In the meantime.......(Smiles a little at Shingo) Welcome back home, little brother. (Turns to the Trio Standing Right Next to Him and Naomi) Are these the guests you told me about earlier?

Shingo: (Finally Gets Himself Back Up) Yep. These three are my buds: Rock, K', and Kula.

Kula: (Happily Waves at the Sisters) Hello!~

Rock: Hey.

K': 'Sup.

Shingo: (Starts Introducing his Friends to his Sisters) Guys, I like to introduce you to my sisters: Naomi and Tsubaki Yabuki.

Naomi: (Happily Waves Back) Hi!~

Tsubaki: (Bows at the Trio In a Polite Fashion) Please to finally meet you. Shingo told us quite a lot about you three as of late.

Rock: Cool. (Starts Smiling a Bit Sheepishly) He....... just told us about you guys a few minutes ago.

Naomi: (Immediately Pouts at Shingo) Shingo! You seriously haven't told them about us untill now? How could you!?

Shingo: (Immediately Put his Hands Up in Defense) I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to keep you two in the dark like that! I was gonna tell you about them sooner, but...It just never really crossed my mind beforehand, you know?

Tsubaki: ('Sigh') It can't be helped......At the very least, we have the chance to get to know more about one another. So we might as well savior every moment of it.

Rock: (Shrugs) Couldn't say it any better myself really. You two seem like good enough people to get to know more about.

Tsubaki: (Smiles Softly While Nodding in Agreement) Likewise.

Shingo: (Happily Nodded as Well) Okay! While you guys go ahead and do that, I'm gonna hit the showers right fast.

Rock: (Raised an Eyebrow in a Bit of Confusion) Already? We just got here.

Shingo: (Starts Stretching his Arms) Yeah, but I always do this whenever come back home in this kind of hour. It's kinda been my daily routine at this point, you know? (Rushes Himself Towards the Bathroom) BRB!

Tsubaki: Try not to take too long in there!

Shingo: (Already From a Distance) 'Kay! (Closes the Bathroom Door)

K': That kid is too optimistic for his own good.

Tsubaki: Yes, but that is one of the multiple reasons why we love him so. (Smiles Softly) I've always admired that mindset of his.

Few Minutes Later in the Kitchen......

Kula and Naomi starts eating their own bowl of ice cream while the others are having a conversation with one another.

Tsubaki: So you're saying that the two of met in the city?

Rock: Yep. Shingo was looking for the café at the time, so I helped find it for him. After that, we started hanging out a lot more ever since.

K': I met the kid we were in the 5th KOF tournament together. He's annoying, but....I still tolerate him.

Kula: (Smiles Brightly) I've met him in the 6th KOF tournament! He was really funny!~

K': Don't talk with your mouth full, Kula.....

Kula: 'Kay! (Continues Eating her Ice Cream)

Tsubaki: Ah. I see....(Starts Frown a Bit) The....King of Fighters Tournament.....

Rock: Is.... everything okay, Tsubaki?

Tsubaki: (Comes Back to Reality) Oh! Um... Yes. I'm fine. It's just that-

Naomi: Tsubaki been worried about Shingo joining the tournament since day one.

Tsubaki: (Immediately Glares at her Little Sister) I was going to tell them that thank you! And what did I say about talking with your mouth full!!?

Naomi: Okay. Okay. Fine. I'll keep eating. Sheesh..... (Continues Eating her Ice Cream)

Tsubaki: (Groans While Pinching her Nose) As I was trying to say, yes. (Starts Frowning Again) I am worried about Shingo participating in these types of tournaments. He keeps getting himself hurt in each one of them he joins. It even got to the point where he starts developing multiple scars on his arms, shoulders, back! ('Sigh Heavily') I'm really glad he has enjoyment in this kind of stuff......I just..... Don't want anything terrible to keep happening to him.....or worse....

Rock: (Takes a Couple Seconds to Think About Speaking Again) Tsubaki. I understand where you're coming from in all of this. Seeing someone close to you getting hurt can never be an easy feeling and I'm sorry you and your family had to go through all of that.....But I assure you that you have nothing to worry about here. Because the way I see it....(Smiles Softly) I think Shingo's the strongest person I know.

Tsubaki: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise) "Strongest"?

K': (Simply Nodded) Howard's right. He might not have fire or any other crazy power in his disposal, but he can hold his own in a fight fairly well.

Kula: Yeah. I saw kick a robot's butt once.

Naomi: ('GASPS') He did!!?

Kula: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm. It was a long time ago, but it was soooo cool!

Naomi: (Couldn't Believe What She's Hearing) Oh my gosh.....(Turns to Tsubaki With a Bright Smile on her Face) You hear that, sis? I TOLD you our bro is the coolest!~

Tsubaki: (Rolls her Eyes A Little) I never said he wasn't, Naomi....But still...(Turns Back to Rock) You really think he has what it takes out there.

Rock: (Simply Nodded) Definitely. The guy has a lot more heart on this than the three us here combined. You just need to have more faith in him, you know?

Shingo: (Walks into the Kitchen) I'm back! Did I missed anything while I was g-

Tsubaki: Shingo.

Shingo: (Immediately Turns to Tsubaki) Oh! Uh...Yeah, sis? What's wrong?

Tsubaki: (Takes a Deep Breath Before Speaking) These tournaments you've participated in....and all the training you've endured....have you been taking them seriously like you should?

Shingo: (Rapidly Nodded) O-Of course I have! I've always been giving it my all every time step into the ring. I mean, yeah, it was a really tough experience and all, but I still managed to pull through every once in a while.

Tsubaki: That is true....Even when you keep getting these injuries, you never insisted on giving up.

Shingo: Exactly! (Raised his Fist Up in the Air in a Determined like Fashion) Even in a impossible scenario, I never give up. That's the Shingo Yabuki way!!

Naomi/Kula: (Cheers in Rejoice) YEAHHHH!!!

Rock: (Chuckles Lightly) That's right.

K': ('Heh')

Tsubaki: ('Sighs Heavily') I figured you would say something like that......

Shingo: (Chuckles Lightly) Yeah. But.... seriously though, I'm really sorry for making you worry all this time, sis.

Tsubaki: (Smiles Softly) Don't be, Shingo. I'm your older sister. I'm always going to worry about you and little gremlin.

Naomi: (Pouts at Tsubaki) HEY! I am NOT a little gremlin!!

Tsubaki: (Starts Rolling her Eyes) You don't say? Could've fooled me really.

Naomi: (Starts Sticking her Tongue Out at her Older Sister While Kula Giggles at the Whole Thing)

Tsubaki: ('Sigh') Back on topic, and regardless of my worrisome nature, if you're really serious about all of this, then I won't stop you. I only ask is that you promise me to be more cautious in the future and that you won't take your training too seriously.

Shingo: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) I promise to do all of that x2! (Pulls Tsubaki into a Loving Hug) Thanks, big sis.

Tsubaki: (Smiles Softly While Hugging Her Little Brother Back) There's no need for you to thank me, little brother. No matter what happens, I'll always love and support you.

Naomi: (Happily Joins into the Hug Along With Kula and Rock) Us too!~

Shingo: (Sees K' Giving Him a Nod in Agreement While his Hearts Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness) Guys....I love all of you too. So much.

@illyrilex

@theweebmaster31

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@albion-93

@ma-lemons