#i just wanted to draw them being judgy together

[niirasri]

When you're at a world meeting and you get this look from them is when you know you're REALLY doing something wrong.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Heathers: The Musical

Beautiful

The opening of this number leaves something to be desired at first, with Veronica’s

pleas to return to the simpler time of kindergarten ringing closer to the girl from Mean Girls who doesn’t even go here than it does to the well meaning yet jaded protagonist we’re given here. However, that doesn’t last long. As Veronica waxes poetic through the high school halls we get a very interesting look at all the students cliquish together mock on another. The insults are harsh yet childish (shortbus, homo, slut, etc.) and we see Veronica herself not immune to these musings. Despite claiming she wants things to be better the first thing she says in regards to Ram and Kurt are that they’re assholes and idiots and her first remarks about the Heathers are judgy claims about the three of them. Veronica sees these people as human as they see her.

This isn’t subtext either, the first real glimmer that the creators have a strong vision come in the use of the Greek Chorus, wherein every kid who was previously hurling insults reveals confusion and guilt over their own actions. Even Kurt and Ram, the jock boys who later be killed by JD for attempting to coerce Veronica into sex while they’re drunk both exclaim regret of their actions (“Why do I act like such a creep?” “Why did I hit him?” “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”)

This leads into the introduction of the Heathers themselves-three girls regarded as both perfect and universally adored and universally despised. Described as ‘Solid Teflon’. But then we actually get their first lines…in the school bathroom…where one of them is engaging in bulimia. The other two Heathers actively discourage Duke from this but she obviously has body issues (as she is the one whose “mom paid for implants”, after all). To which the school guidance counselor walks in on them and-instead of treating this situation with the respect it deserves-rolls her eyes and attempts to give them detention for being out of class.

This is very significant as the pervasive theme of Heathers is that none of these kids are being the support to be better people, so how could they be better people? This woman’s job is to be on alert for kids going through something, but it will literally take the faked suicide of Heather Chandler for her to perform even a falsity of that job. It’s Veronica who shows the Heathers unbound kindness by forging a hall pass for them and getting them out of trouble.

To which Chandler is immediately suspicious because the other theme is

“When no one is nice to you without wanting something for long enough it messes with your perception of healthy relationships”.

Veronica then does ask for a favor in return for her help-being given a metaphoric thumbs up by the trip so she’ll keep from being harassed. Of course, the girls do her one better and Veronica becomes the fourth member of the Heathers.

Veronica herself is well characterized by the end of this. She’s kind even if that kindness comes with hesitancy, she loves her friend Martha, and despite her Daria-esque attitude to the people around her manages to be proactive right at the start as we see her actively tell one of the jocks she’s a afraid of to apologize to her friend when he attacks her. But she’s also easily swayed. Despite thinking they’re terrible people and thinking the concept of the school hierarchy is stupid, when given the opportunity to be at the top of the hierarchy with the Heathers she accepts with no hesitation. Her mantra going from the beginning of the song “We could be beautiful, just not today…” to the more selfish “And when you’re beautiful, it’s a beautiful day”.

It’s got some fun lyricism and some classic foreshadowing wordplay, I’m particularly fond of the line “Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze” as it draws an early line between Veronica’s emotional in the moment thoughts and the more intense tangible desires of JD being twisted by those thoughts.

All in all this is a solid opening number to this musical. Let’s see how they follow through with the introduction of the plot and the introduction of JD.

[fredheads]

I just think about Fred fp and gladys always hanging out together and being known as like the three musketeers at school and I think about all the gossip because of course fp and gladys can easily kiss and touch in public but everyone’s always had this watchful eye on Fred and fp because no one knew a friendship closer than theirs and sometimes it would get a little suspicious especially if Fred was doing his whole goofball “I can do gay things but comedically so no one will take it serious” thing

And I think about Gladys getting the brunt of a lot of shit too especially by the rich stuffy north siders who already looked down on her for being south side and looking so different from everyone else (leaning heavily into her punk era doing wild shit with her hair, gender fuckery, you know how it goes) but then she’s constantly seen with two boys, one of which at least is public she’s hooking up with, so of course everyone assumes she’s fucking Fred too which like… she is lmao but they make it so gross and seedy like “ooo bet she gets double teamed” and calling her all sorts of names and spreading nasty rumors and for as thick as Gladys’ skin is you can only hear so much negative shit about yourself before it starts getting to you on some level, fortunately for her she could get over it pretty quickly tho cuz she has zero interest in pleasing these people

And then of course there’s Fred who everyone’s confused by how he ended up in a southside sandwich (surely that must be a riverdale sex name…like the sticky maple or whatever it was lmfao) but he gets shit mainly from Artie about how he needs to be more picky about who he’s friends with but if the rumors ever got back to his parents…oh boy

But like even tho they were facing a lot they still had so much fun the three of them together and they were all so fiercely protective of each other it really was if you go after one you go after all three situation. And they’d have so many date nights just the three of them cruising around town hanging out at pops or the movies or the arcade or fps trailer or Fred’s basement in a cuddle pile Fred and Gladys trying to throw popcorn and candy into each others mouths while fps in the middle getting whacked in the cheek with debris or Fred and Gladys trying to get fp to dance to the jukebox at pops or them cramming into a photo booth to take pictures or them having a day by the lake and Fred carefully drawing fp and gladys while they sunbathe (well Gladys is working on her tan fps just passed out from exhaustion)

It was just a very nice time overall 🥰 despite the horrors lmao

SOUTHSIDE SANDWICH!!!!! GET OUT!!! but yeah 😂 everyone was so judgy about fp and gladys just existing but here comes freds happy little ass hanging around with them all the time and he's so popular and clean cut and wholesome and no one knows what that means!! So I'm sure the boys on the baseball team and whatnot were making snide remarks about fred for that but fred is not the kind of person to let anyone trash talk his friends so he would stand up for them 😤 but it was an uphill battle for sure. It meant a lot to fp to have fred in his corner tho cuz unfortunately he did sometimes care what kids at school thought of him or at least would believe and internalize the shit they said.... Gladys did not give a fuck but you're right just cuz they're calling her a dyke and a slut all the time and are technically right does NOT mean she wants to hear it from Ricky from second period 😡🔪 she could fight her own battles but one of the things she thought was so sweet about fred was how relentlessly he stood up for people 🥺

What was hardest for fred was standing up to his dad cuz u are right artie was not happy about what he was hearing about fred spending all his time w southsiders and being down in that part of town a lot... Cuz news travels fast in that town and rumours were flying among the adults too and artie was just opposed to the Southside in general but fred would try to argue that these are his friends and they can't help where they were born!! Artie thought fred was just in a rebellious phase and flaunting it but fred meant that shit with his heart, he can't be any other way....

Also only slightly related but recently I was thinking about gladys and mary being thrown together for seven minutes in heaven at a high school party and while they're making out in the closet Mary's asking gladys if she thinks fred is interested in her cuz she hates herself for it but she thinks he's kinda cute 💀 lmaoooo and gladys is like no i think you'd be cute together this does not pass the bechdel test fnfnngkdnfnf idk why this came to me but there you are

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Time Flies Until It Hits The Fan

Chapter 20/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 10,048

Summary: Over the next few weeks, things start adjusting. Eddie and Nancy get together to plan how he'll defeat Ms. O'Donnell's Final Essay, and end up talking about some much more important things. Many different things and people across Hawkins shift around and in the end Jonathan and Nancy's relationship comes to a head.

Something has to change.

More ST Fics

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And time started to move on. Days passed by in faster succession than it felt like they had in the days of catching the fallout. They were in a rhythm that felt more like the normal world than anything really had. Nancy kept taking the time to stop by the Family Video most days. Always to return one tape and make her new pick from the comedy display. Never really even looking at any other genre.

It was helping, so she wasn't going to mess with the formula.

And she also had plans that following Friday.

Nancy and Eddie decided to meet in the library for their free period at the end of the day. Eddie caught up with her by her locker and they walked down to the end of the building together. A couple of pairs of eyes noticed, watching them make their way around the school. They were the writer of a major news story and the subject of said story, they all couldn't help but be intrigued by what those two were up to again.

Even the librarian made a bit of a face when he saw them enter side-by-side and mark off one of the study rooms on the check-in sheet. But they didn't really mind much. The two of them just went ahead and tucked into the privacy of a door and four walls, shuttering the blinds down over the window, and took their seats around the circular table.

Eddie started unpacking stuff from his bag and Nancy did the same. He pulled out a report card and a list of assignments he put together. Nancy got herself a spiral notebook and pen, ready to make notes and get a course of action set up.

They looked over his grades together. Most of which were pretty good, with various B's, a couple C's, and even an A- with the drama teacher. Well, pretty good grades except for the bane of his existence. Ms. O'Donnell's English Lit. Which currently sat with a D. Technically, it was barely passing. But if the final didn't hold that grade there, or higher, it was going to end his year as a fail in the grade books. Again.

It was probably a sore spot, but they needed to address that hurdle head-on.

Nancy blew out some air between her lips, twiddling the pen between her fingers, and tried to say it gently,“ So, why haven’t you passed it yet?”

She wasn't being judgy. She wasn't being mean. She just needed to know what the difficulty was and what was getting in his way if they were going to draw up a battle plan together. She needed to know what was going on so they could deal with it.

Eddie leaned back in his seat. Might've been avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“Cause she keeps failing me. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Okay, fine, but why? If you do the assignments well enough then she’d have no choice but to pass you, even if she doesn't want to. Otherwise, you would've had grounds to report it to the principal and gotten her grades overruled.” she reasoned. “But you didn't do that. So? What is it?”

“I don’t.”

Which was a pretty nothing statement.

“Don't what?” she pushed for more clarity.

“Don't do the assignments well enough.”

Nancy's head fell to the side,“ Why?”

“Not smart enough?” He crossed his arms around himself tighter. “Next question.”

But she just frowned at the idea. It didn't add up, and she wouldn't be fooled.

“Nope. No way am I buying that.”

That got him to look at her. “Excuse me?” he blinked.

“You’re excused,” she said, a little patronizingly. He might've laughed if he wasn't confused.

“No, what do you mean by 'you’re not buying that’?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re smart.”

And she said it like it was the obvious conclusion to draw.

Eddie just raised his eyebrows and asked,“ Do I look like a mirror to you, Wheeler?”

She rolled her eyes. And for a second, Eddie thought he was going to get a chuckle out of her. But she sat there with a serious face. Focused on making her point.

“Eddie, I have heard your vocabulary. I know that you’re an avid reader who plays an instrument. You manage those DnD sessions in both the planning ahead of time and improvising as it runs. You’re headstrong and a creative problem solver. All of which are things that point to you being very smart. So I'm really struggling to believe an essay you tried on wouldn’t be good enough.”

She leveled him pretty quickly, all things considered. Eddie almost felt like he'd just been made a subject of Nancy Wheeler's journalistic investigation for a second time.

“And I just saw your other grades, not a minefield of F's like you made it out to be. So, what is it? Do you just not try on your finals for her out of spite or something?”

“No.”

“Because I'd get that. Might say it's a little self-sabotage-y and immature. But I'd get it. And that's something we can decide to not let you do this time around-”

“I tried,” he answered honestly.

“Then what happened? I’d get that maybe the first time through, it might’ve been really hard, but if you tried on the last essay knowing what to expect then I don’t understand how you couldn’t-”

“I didn’t turn it in,” he said abruptly.

And that was certainly an answer.

Nancy got quieter when she asked,“ What?”

“I tried really hard on the last one. I spent weeks on her final essay. And then I… I didn’t turn it in.”

“Why not?”

There was this hesitation. Eddie looked at his hands. At the black painted fingernails Robin and El left him with. At the chipped-off flecks that had occurred during the usual wear and tear of his day not being gentle with his hands. Little pale pink spots of his skin showed through. He brought his thumb to the edge of the lacquer on a forefinger and started to pick at it.

“My first senior year wasn’t a good one.” he eventually said, keeping his eyes stuck on the task he'd set,” I didn't focus and blew a lot of it off. There was more than one class I needed to improve my grade in to graduate. But the last assignment I did that year was Mrs. O’Donnell’s essay. I wrote a paper and it wasn’t good, I'll admit that. I pushed it off because I got mad every time I tried to do it, so it became a rush job at the last minute. Whatever.”

Eddie shook his head. His hair moved around his head as he did. Catching on his shoulders and crowding in further around his face. Closing him in. And Nancy watched him carefully. Her eyes studied the guy sitting next to her. She could tell there was more to say. So she waited for him.

He took a deep breath. Puffed out his lungs like he was winding up to bite the bullet.

“But after I turned it in, before the bell rang for me to go to my next class, I got called to the principal’s office. Um-” he bit his lip,” They called to tell me that… that my dad died.”

Nancy immediately felt terrible. Her stomach dropped and her mouth fell open,” Eddie, I-”

There was a hurt sort of laugh that came from him. Just a defeated huff in the face of what he was saying. What he was remembering.

“It wasn’t so seriously sad like how I think losing your dad is supposed to hit you.” he clarified,” I mean, he was practically a stranger to me, so it mostly just made me feel numb-” he swallowed hard,” And weird. They let me take the rest of the day off to go home. I did. Took a couple of them off. And I don’t know- I just- Later, when I came back to class, I had failed the essay. So I just didn’t turn anything else in after that. In any of my classes. I guess I kind of just gave up on all of it.”

“That’s when I started buying off Reefer Rick more. And that summer, after the rest of my class graduated without me, was when I started dealing for him. I decided it was my best bet to have any cash and something to do. And that fall, I wanted to graduate. I really wanted out. I tried harder during the school year. Did fine enough in all the other classes. But always with Ms. O’Donnell… Every time I sat in her classroom, I’d remember ‘Here’s where I was the last time I thought my dad was alive.’ I didn’t focus well. Always got high at lunch right before I went in. And still, I told myself I was going to write a killer essay and pass enough to get out of there. I worked so hard on it. And when I tried to hand it in… I just froze.”

Eddie's fingers stopped moving. He wasn't casting little specks of nail polish onto the carpet anymore. He was just clenching his hands together, tightly. Looking at nothing and seeing everything that Nancy didn't.

His voice sounded so vacant as he remembered,“ And I thought ‘What if it’s not good enough again? What if I turn in another bad essay and something worse happens this year? What if I lose Wayne?’ And…”

Eddie's voice hitched. He looked up into Nancy's eyes after the sentence broke in his throat. For the first time since he got started, she could see what was happening in those deep browns. He wasn't full-on crying, but there were tears sitting on the edge. Just enough to communicate a kind of pain and fear that was all too real.

“And I know that’s stupid,” he explained. ”Some essay doesn’t decide whether or not people live or die, I know that. But, then she got to my desk. To the kid who failed last year, to the kid who never paid attention to her lessons, who came in faded the whole semester, who everyone assumed was going to turn out just like his dad, in and out of prison until he died, locked up and alone- And she asked if I did the assignment. And I had started pulling it out before she got there because I thought I was going to be fine, but when she said that I shoved the paper back in my bag. Said ‘No. I didn’t.’ and I walked right out in the middle of class. Didn't even get in my van, I just kept walking till I was off school grounds. ”

“Eddie…” she wasn't sure what else to say.

Maybe, if she didn’t know any better, she’d have started mindlessly blabbing a dozen I’m-so-sorrys. Maybe she'd have cried a bucket of sympathy tears because his tragedy was so hard for her to hear. Maybe Nancy would've wrapped him in a hug and told him it was going to be alright.

A promise she was in no position to make.

But Nancy knew better. Maybe not exactly how it felt to lose a semi-estranged father. But she knew how it felt to be living your life and suddenly the whole ground has fallen out from under your feet because someone you loved died, scared and alone, while you didn’t know any better. She knew that part. She knew how it took her over in the strangest ways she never anticipated.

And so, she didn’t know what to say. Because, to that day, Nancy still didn’t know what she wanted to hear after Barb died. She could never figure out that part. What words could have possibly made it hurt even a little bit less? She still had no idea what they might've been.

Eddie just tried to blink away his misty eyes,“ Anyway. That’s the big story. That’s why I’m still here.”

He pulled on a smile. A pretty insincere looking one. The kind a person wears to make sure no one talks about it. To change the subject and move on.

Nancy recognized it pretty well.

“Do you still have the other essay?” she asked him instead.

Giving him what he asked for without words. Hoping he could see that she was more than happy to follow him if he wanted to talk about it. But it didn't feel like he wanted to unpack anymore in one of the library study rooms.

“Heh, no. I dropped it in a burn pile at the trailer park on my way home.” he admitted, until it looked like an idea came to him,“ But, I do still have the notebook I worked on it in… and the rough draft… probably.”

“Okay. Then it’s a deal. Next time we meet, you are going to bring me that notebook and we’re going to remake the amazing essay you should’ve turned in last year, and we’ll work through the other few assignments she might dole out between now and then. And then you’re going to graduate. With the rest of us, Class of '86-ers.” Nancy said with pride.

Eddie commented,“ You’ve got a lot of faith for a paper you didn’t even read the last attempt on.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged,” I believe in you, Eddie Munson.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” he looked at her like she was a divine blessing,” You’re an enigma, you know that?” Eddie wiped at his eyes some, trying to get them back to normal,” I can’t believe I just spilled all of that to you. I do not talk to people about my dad. Like, ever. Blegh. That was weird.”

Nancy just smiled. She reached out with her elbow and bumped his. “It’s what comes when you face hell together with someone. You end up sharing some of the other fucked up stuff about your lives too.”

Eddie smiled back at her. More real that time. And then the school bell rang over the intercom system. Students were officially let out. The two of them started packing up their things. Slipping the straps of their bags over their shoulders. Nancy was just reaching to pull out her car keys when an idea came to her.

“Are you doing anything later?”

Eddie thought for a moment,“ Corroded Coffin's got a band rehearsal tomorrow, but, no, nothing today. Why?”

“Then, how would you like a little trip to the Wheeler's? Don't have to stay for dinner - I wouldn't recommend for anyone who doesn't have to, sit there and deal with Ted Wheeler's table manners - but there's absolutely snacks in it for you before then.”

And Eddie’s eyes shone with another smile. “Sounds like another great deal. I think I'll take you up on that, Nan.”

“Ew, what am I, your grandmother?”

“I’m just trying something new! Now that we’ve leveled up our friendship with some tears at the library.”

It didn't take long for them to make it out of the school and get on the road, most of the students waited around on Fridays making plans before they took off. So Nancy got into the station wagon and, once he was behind her, Eddie followed her on the way over. Leading him right up to the Wheeler's front door. Eddie was let into the home with a warm welcome from Nancy's mother. Karen hung her head from the kitchen when they came in. An expression of surprise painted over her face when she realized it wasn't Mike trailing behind his older sister into the living room.

“Oh. Hello, Eddie.”

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She wasn't too worried. Ever since Will and El got back to town, Mike and the others have been riding his bike to and from school most days again versus stowing away in Nancy's passenger seat. Plus, it was nice seeing Nancy bring someone by the house after school again. That hasn't really happened since…

Nancy quickly made for the pantry,“ We're just gonna grab some snacks and head upstairs.”

“Okay.” Karen nodded softly. Mentally hoping not to spook Nancy or her guest off. Seeing as it was something she's just got the nerve to have again. “I take it all the boys and El are back helping at the Cabin again?”

“Probably. They were all by the bike racks when we got out. Waved when I pulled away and everything.”

“Alright. Just keep an ear out if Mike needs to get picked up later.”

“Got it.” Nancy already had some treats stacked up in her arms when she turned around to ask,” Are there any brownies left?”

Karen motioned to the nearly empty container on the oven top,“ Just the corner pieces.”

“Score. I will take that one.” Eddie delightedly remarked.

“Oh? Finally, we've found someone that won't turn their nose up at the extra chewy edges.”

“Absolutely not.” he assured her,” The corners have always been my favorites.”

“Alright then. You've just earned yourself a standing invitation whenever I need help clearing leftovers. What else do you eat?” Karen started.

But Nancy dropped the items from her hands into Eddie's and then got him turned around. Started pushing him back towards the stairs. She excused them over her shoulder as they made their way up,“ We just came from the library essay planning, can't lose this momentum, Mom.”

“Okay, okay. You're free to go. Just keep it down, I'm expecting a phone call from Mrs. Peterson in a bit.”

“Got it.”

The two newfound pals shuffled up the staircase and into the second-floor hall. Nancy ushered Eddie to her door like they had anything to really be running from. He was laughing a little at her dramatics when they got inside. Spilling the sweets and salty morsels onto her bed, watching the soda cans bounce off the softness of it and crinkle against the plastic bags.

Eddie was the last one to see it, now that it was finally his turn to look upon the room. Well, the 1986, right-side-up version. He saw the 1983 upside-down one already. But that had, of course, been outdated and covered in dust and decay.

The one in the real world was remarkably nicer to look at. There were still frilly curtains and pink all over, but she also had a Tom Cruise poster and Blondie cassettes, and a shoebox with two handguns in the closet he was privy to.

Night and day, in some of the strangest ways.

It wasn't only Eddie's first time in Nancy Wheeler's real bedroom, it was actually his first time in any girl's bedroom.

Getting into one had never been a focus of his before. And it wasn't even then, not in the way most boys meant it. But Eddie wasn't most boys. Just like Nancy wasn't most girls.

They'd talked for a little while. On and on about nothing really. Nothing really important or deeply cutting. Just the smaller, surface-level things. Eddie's favorite color was red, and despite present appearances, Nancy's was blue. But more like a powder blue than a cobalt, she specified. Eddie said he liked his reds more ruby than orange-ish.

He asked how much she really liked Top Gun to have sprung for the poster for it. She laughed so hard she snorted. Her hand flew to her face to cover her nose and he just pushed and pushed. She threatened to break into what was left of his room so she could make fun of whatever posters he had on his wall. He might've begged her not to, while also insisting he had nothing that was possible to make fun of. Because all his stuff was cool. Even if people didn't get it, they just weren't cool enough for it.

That would've been his defense if she took him up on the challenge anyway.

He'd looked at this little, plush thing she had hanging on the wall. Like a girly kind of corkboard to pin and hang stuff off of. With fabric and ribbons on it to make it pretty. And it held up pictures and handwritten notes. Sentimental stuff.

She'd followed his eyes. Seen it. Knew what sort of stuff used to be presented on it. Until she took them down and tucked them safely into her bedside drawer because it got too hard to look at all the time.

The energy shifted in the room when Nancy abruptly said,” Barb was my best friend, you know.”

Truth be told, Eddie didn't really know. He barely knew Nancy until his life went to hell. He noticed years before that a boy went missing, and then a girl went missing, and the boy came back, and the girl didn't. He knew that about a year later all that news about government experiments and cover-up came from their very backyard. He'd heard that the missing girl became a dead girl because of it. But he didn't really know much beyond that.

Wasn't wrapped up in much of Barbara Holland's business before.

Didn't know who her best friend was, or that he'd come to know her pretty well himself.

“Yeah?” he offered anyway. He didn't know, but she could tell him about it.

“Yeah. She died back when everything started.” She swallowed hard. Curled her fingers into a fist. “I didn't find out anything was wrong until the next day. And even then, nobody wanted to listen to me. It drove me crazy.”

It sounded heartbreaking. “I can only imagine,” he told her.

“But even after, months after, I went sort of off the rails in my own way sometimes too.” And he started to see where she was going with it. “I thought I saw her sometimes. Like out of the corner of my eyes, around the halls at school. If I looked at the back of Ellen Brady's head too long. They sort of had the same hair. Went to a party and tried a little too hard to pretend I was okay.”

She sort of knew what it was like. Losing someone all of a sudden. Having trouble getting back to “life as usual.” And she was telling him that she got it a little.

“Yeah. Happens to the best of us, I guess. Can't see it coming, and then it does and…”

He didn't really finish the thought. Wasn't even quite sure where it was going. But Nancy picked back up. Seeming to know more of what she wanted to say than he did.

“Only happens sometimes to me, though. Never long enough to get stuck.” She sympathized,“ I never really found myself lucky for handling it as well as it did to stay on track with school, at least. I was always so focused on the hurting part.”

“Well, that's probably because it hurts. A lot. And often.” Eddie's eyes darkened as he looked away,“ And it's lonely.”

Nancy held her attention on him. On his bouncing knee. Like Mike did when he was thinking too much.

She agreed,“ It is. Because no one else really got it. No one cared about Barb like I did. And Will came back for Mike. No one around me ever lost a friend like that. So I was just… alone. Feeling it.”

“I was serious when I said I never talk about my dad with people. I'm not sure if most of my friends even knew he was ever in prison. And I didn't say anything after he died. I was just… fucked up all of a sudden. And that was that.”

He looked back at her. It wasn't the same in that way for Nancy and she knew it.

“Everyone knew something was up with Barb. And the people in the know knew what actually happened. I felt like I was always surrounded by it, and under an NDA so I wasn't supposed to talk about it, but I needed to. Or wanted to. Or just wanted to not need to.”

Eddie just watched her. He could see there was something else brewing under her skin. Something she was getting to that must torture her all the time. Even still.

“And that felt impossible,” she admitted,” But the worst part was probably that we had been so close, and then… we started to get some distance. There were disagreements and tension and not-quite-fights. Walking away. I told her to leave. And then she was actually gone.”

Ah. The regret. The kind that was way worse than not appreciating enough. It felt like not appreciating at all. Even though they did. They did appreciate their people in some ways. But life happens. Things change and feelings get coiled up into infuriating knots. And then people die. At seemingly the worst time. Right before a reconciliation could've happened. Should've happened.

It sparked a memory in him.

“The last time my dad went in… I asked him if he was even trying to stay out. Asked if he preferred having an excuse and being locked up versus being out in the world and having to actually get to know me. Asked him why he and Wayne didn't just lie about which brother was my father since it would've been simpler the other way around.”

He looked back on that day often. Hated how it all shook out. Wished he was someone who could've swallowed that anger instead of spitting it out.

“And I felt like shit a while after I said it. But I didn't want to apologize because I definitely still felt some of it. So I didn't call as much as I used to. And then it wasn't an option anymore.” Eddie sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth,“ It sucks so much more to have been putting that distance in right before…”

“Yeah,” she agreed. For the first time having someone get it. Get that part that always made her feel crazy. Like a cruel, selfish bitch. “It feels like… 'Why couldn't I have at least been nice? Even if I couldn't have stopped it, couldn't I have at least been better to them? If I knew what was going to happen, I would've. I'm not a bad person who wanted to hurt them in the time they had left. I swear, I'm not.' But that's how it happened anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “But it wasn't your fault. Teens say stupid shit and get in stupid fights. She had to know things were supposed to get better between you two. If there was just a little more time after the dust settled.”

“Same goes for you, you know. Parents know that kids get frustrated and blow up sometimes. He knew that you didn't… hate him, or anything like that. Had to know you wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah. Wayne said that kind of thing to me lots. Never really bought it though.”

“Did you guys have good memories?” Nancy cocked her head to the side. A little crease appeared between her brows after she asked. Listening. Intently.

“Most of them were messy, one way or another. This one time he 'borrowed' a neighbor's kiddie pool and didn't tell me no when I said we should put food coloring in the water. They never found out who stained it purple.” Eddie chuckled to himself, picturing it happen all over again. “And he knew the reason I wanted to start learning guitar was because of a picture I saw of him playing one by a bonfire. He bought my first one while he was out for a bit. Showed me some of the chords before he slipped up again.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was.”

“Is.” she corrected him,” The memories aren't going anywhere.”

Eddie let the idea soak in a second before he decided,“ No. Guess they aren't.”

They kept talking after that. But, eventually, they had to get Eddie out of there before Ted got home and made a big fuss about everything. Complaining about missing corner pieces even though he was never going to eat them, it usually came down to Mike. Throw a fit at the dinner table about “unsavory company" to have under his roof. Stuff like that.

Nancy offered to let him crawl out the window and scale the gutter to get out. He just joked that he'd leave that business to her boyfriends of past and present. Went down the stairs, stopped to say goodbye to her mom and put the container in the sink, and went out the door. Got into his van and headed for the video store. There was probably someone he ought to annoy hanging around there. Even though it was later than usual.

Eddie and Nancy continued to meet up once or twice every week to tackle schoolwork and the big essay. And sometimes just to talk shit about anything and everything. They ended up getting along better than anyone had really planned for. Karen also appreciated having another set of hands around to entertain Holly sometimes before Ted got home.

Will and El enjoyed being able to go to school with their friends again. It was a lot less isolating than being in Lenora was. There was still a lot of history hanging over the both of them, which was the whole reason Joyce took them away in the first place. To get their fresh starts somewhere new. But they preferred to deal with having a history than sometimes feeling like they had no one.

The kids still visited Max's hospital room often and helped with the Hopper-Byers cabin in their free time. Everyone had their own tapes just in case of an emergency. Lucas and El even teamed up to put together Max's with the stuff she had in her bedroom. Radio sets were bought and set up at both Steve's house and the Cabin.

El was able to look for Dr. Sam. She saw him, and he wasn't dead. But she couldn't tell exactly what was going on. Most of the time she checked, he was just sitting silently in a chair. Leaned forward on a metal table. Looking at his wringing hands with a stern expression. No one around.

No talking she could listen in on.

No one really knew what to do with that. So they just tried to keep on, keeping on. Moving through the motions of what “normal” was supposed to look like. It was weird trying to pretend like everything was alright when Max was still in a coma. When they were still waiting for the end of the world to come back up.

They still hadn't found Vecna/Henry/One. Every time Will so much as felt a chill, they had El sit down and try. Blindfolds, television static, the works. But it wasn't leading anywhere.

And despite all that uncertainty and weirdness, the time passed. Progress was made.

Before they knew it, two more weeks had come and gone. And the Hopper-Byers Cabin was officially move-in ready. Including the additional rooms they built off the sides to accommodate the increase in residents since the last time it was lived in. Dmitri and Mikhail even had some space, and Murray was getting thrown to the couch until their passports, IDs, and home loan signed to the United States government came through and they'd take up one of the abandoned houses in the suburbs.

As the end of April closed in, it was finally time. Everyone came together to spend the weekend getting all nine of them moved out of Steve's. A fact many of them were pretty happy about. Except for maybe Hop, when he mourned the idea that he might never get to soak in a jacuzzi tub ever again. He'd kind of liked the little bit of luxury.

And Family Video finally had three workers besides Steve and Robin. So they were able to work out a much more manageable schedule between them all. Even left Robin time to go on covert dates with Vickie pretty often. Steve took to a different use of his off hours.

Sitting in Max's hospital room.

With his house emptied out, it felt like a better way to be alone. By not actually having to be alone. Especially as the kids started getting bogged down with homework and keeping an eye out for supernatural enemies. It was good to have someone with her for part of the school day and as much after as he could.

The first night he was set to go back home alone - the Monday after all the moving - he'd been sitting at her bedside for a few hours when the nurse came to send him on his way. And going back home became a daunting thing it hadn't quite been for so many weeks. He used to always be headed somewhere to sit in silence… but that routine had been interrupted. Suddenly, he had to think about a house full of turned-off lights, no dinner warm and waiting for him, and no one to greet him when he pushed open the door.

The nurse repeated to him,” Sweetheart, we gotta get you on your way. It's like bar rules at closing time: Don't care if you're going home, but you can't stay here.” She had a kind laugh as she said it, probably made that joke more than a couple of times in her day.

But Steve just didn't have the heart to immediately get up. She tried again,” We might've been able to loosen on our hours now that things aren't so emergent, but all non-family has to be out of patient rooms by six o'clock now. And you’ve been dropping by here enough to know that.”

“I know. I just-”

He couldn't think of anything to say. To excuse why he just couldn't seem to get to his feet. And then Nurse Brown's eyes softened where they'd fixed on him. She let out a little sigh and decided to let him in on an idea.

“Tell you what, if Susan approves special permission to have you listed with family visitation privileges, I’ll file the paperwork and you can start staying later. But it won’t be tonight, so you best head on home and get you something to eat.”

“Okay. Okay, thanks.”

“Course, sweetheart.”

The next day he saw her and asked. And Susan agreed. Like it was the simplest thing to say yes to. Like there wasn’t even a doubt in her mind.

And despite one very expensive utility bill hitting the Harrington bank account, there wasn't so much as a phone call made about the fact. Either his dad didn't really read it, or he'd been away from home so long he couldn't remember what a normal amount was. Whichever way it was, Steve wasn't going to complain.

Things had… come together. Or cleaned themselves up. Mostly.

Settled into place in a temporary sort of way. Like maybe it'd all still mostly be like that after Vecna was actually dealt with. But in the meantime, they were all still in prepping mode. Not wanting to go soft and get caught with their pants down.

A little while after people got cleared out of Steve's house, the government came through for the Antonovs. Dmitri and Mikhail were given birth certificates, social security numbers, IDs, and a place to live. It wasn't right next to the Wheelers like Dmitri had joked about with Karen, but it was in that neighborhood, believe it or not. There was another round of moving efforts to get the two of them and Murray into their new sleeping quarters.

And once it seemed like all the people had gotten re-shuffled to where they were supposed to be… Joyce thought it'd be nice to have a little dinner among themselves at their cabin Monday evening. Something as a little celebration for making it through the rumble. But the invitation was also extended to Nancy.

She and Jonathan hadn't been meshing together like they used to. She's been busy, spending time with Eddie, and just seeming… different. Not wrong, just different. Jonathan's been readjusting back to going to school at Hawkins and sticking pretty close to Argyle, seeing as he was the new guy in town.

And honestly, Jonathan was starting to convince himself that he maybe didn't need to listen to Argyle. Maybe he didn't need to break up with Nancy. Maybe there was a way out of it. If they could just find a way to be boyfriend and girlfriend comfortably again, maybe he could explain that the idea of being too far away from his family made him sick. And they could figure something out, while he figured out how to be in love and be good enough again.

It wasn't quite like they were avoiding each other. They saw each other sometimes, laughed and made small talk during lunch, and studied quietly at the same table in the library. They interacted, but it felt like there was stuff going unsaid. Something being ignored and brushed over. Something that, even though they both wanted it dealt with, neither wanted to face and bring up.

They had reasons for being a little distant. “It's just been so hectic with all the finals coming up.” “We're all so stressed about how or when things are going to get worse.” “I'm just too tired to do more right now.”

Things had been sort of awkward and stilted. And as much as it seemed easier to just let it be, Nancy was at the end of her rope. She didn't like not having answers. She didn't like being in the position of trying to maintain something by walking on eggshells.

If it was ending, it just needed to end.

So, she was driving the two of them out to the cabin for dinner, and when she put the station wagon into park next to the other cars, she started trying to break up with him. To excuse herself before they went in for dinner with his family and it just became a more complicated mess.

She shut off the engine and rested her hand on the keys, but didn't pull them from the ignition.

“I don’t think this is working, Jonathan.”

She was speaking gently. Kindly and honestly. Just stating an unfortunate fact of the matter.

Jonathan sat back into the seat from where he'd started getting up. It was a little out of nowhere. Just a second before they were talking about Murray's electrical work on the cabin and hoping he knew what he was doing enough that it wouldn't accidentally trigger a forest fire one day. But what Nancy said surely wasn't related.

“What?” he asked her.

“I… I just feel like we keep going in opposite directions. And it’s not just been since California. Even at the Hawkins’ Post, we were butting against one another and just… now it seems like we can’t even talk to each other.”

Jonathan blinked at her and tried,“ We can talk to each other.”

“Can we? Because I don't feel like we have. You've been back in town for over a month now and I still feel like there's something wrong. Some rift between us. And I don't know why we're holding back, I don't know if it's just because we got so used to only talking over the phone or if it's because we're both trying not to be scared of what Vecna means for El and Will when he comes back or… if it's something else entirely?” Nancy leaned forward with a heavy breath falling from her lips,“ But I feel like there's gotta be something. Because we don't feel like we used to.”

Jonathan didn't know what to say first. That it was all his fault, that he's been hoping some switch would flip and he'd be okay again, that he's been lying and procrastinating with only Argyle's counsel telling him that he needed to be honest… That he wished he'd never let any of it go on so long because it kept making it harder to admit.

“I’m sorry.”

And Nancy's brows furrowed to hear that. “No, I don’t want your apologies. I just want to know if I’m crazy for feeling like this or if you understand where I’m coming from. If you even see it?”

His voice almost caught in his throat. Quiet and small he tried to agree,“ I see it, Nance. I-”

“Kids!” Joyce yelled from the open front door, warm light from the cabin spilling out around her into the dim evening forest surrounding them,” Supper’s ready and on the table already! Come on in before it gets cold!”

“We're all waiting!” Will's voice carried from behind her. She shot another pointed look for them to hurry up before she went back inside and closed the door.

Nancy shook her head,“ I don’t think I should-”

“Can we just make it through the dinner? And we can talk after?” Jonathan asked.

And maybe if he left it there, Nancy would've said no. She shouldn't go to dinner with his family while they're in the middle of a serious talk. Especially not one she was expecting to end in a breakup.

But then he said “Please.”

So, she argued with herself. Thought that she might as well let them have one more nice evening. One more memory for the road. And she was expected. She didn't need to embarrass him by canceling from the driveway.

Nancy decided,“ Okay. We can make it through dinner. And we'll talk after.”

She leaned over the console and pressed a kiss into Jonathan's cheek. She pulled on a thin smile and took the keys out of the ignition. He returned the small smile. Gave a curt nod.

They were in agreement.

Just make it through dinner, and they were going to figure it out after. Whichever way it would go.

The two of them went inside, greeted Hop and Joyce, El, Will, and Argyle, and joined the five of them at the table. It was a steak dinner with a wide array of homey sides, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, steamed carrots, green beans, etc. All the sort of stuff that made sense for a small dinner with something to be thankful for. It was pleasant.

They all small-talked in circles as they ate. Eventually, the topic of California came up. They were all checking with Argyle for the hundredth time that he and his parents were okay with him staying in Hawkins as long as he had. Promising over and over again that it was okay for him to go back home without seeing this whole mess through to the end with them.

He never wavered though. So Joyce smiled and gave a breathy laugh, muttering about all the apologies she'd have to make when they stopped back in Lenora at some point. Probably after they thought things are really over. And then she said something about loading up another moving van to bring all their stuff back to Hawkins. Which struck Jonathan for the first time.

They must've not talked about it, or at least not clearly enough, because he didn't realize they were moving back to Hawkins permanently. His mother just sort of snickered and agreed, yes, that's why they renovated Hop's whole cabin to fit them comfortably. But even though that made sense, the whole thing didn't.

It didn't make sense for Jon and his plans.

All of a sudden, it slipped out.

“We can't move back here, I applied to Lenora Community College so I could stay with you guys at home!”

And then the whole dinner pulled to a screeching stop.

Forks froze in people's hands, bites of food when un-chewed as that truth settled in, eyes widened and stuck on him in shock.

“What?” came from four different directions around him.

Joyce. Will. El. And, most urgently, Nancy.

Jonathan's throat immediately went dry as he realized the shit storm he just kicked up.

“What the hell?” Nancy questioned him again. Though, quickly becoming more angry than confused.

“I…”

“Jonathan, what's going on?” his mom asked seriously while she tried to understand.

Argyle looked at him with an expression that said something nicer than “I told you” and “This is going to be bad.” But Nancy's eyes were set in her hurt. In the betrayal. In the fury and rage and shock. She wiped her mouth off with her napkin before smacking it down onto the table and storming out the door. Not another word.

“Nancy,” Jonathan called after her. Getting up from his chair and following just a few seconds behind while she nearly ran to the car.

It was all such fucking bullshit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Stop. Nancy!”

She grit her teeth together with her hand on the car door handle,“ I'm serious, Jonathan. Go away.”

He didn't want it to happen like that at all. He wanted to fix it. Or soften the blow. Or just explain. He wanted to explain what happened. To tell Nancy he wasn't trying to hurt her, that he'd never try to do that.

He slowed down a few feet away and reached out for her,“ Can I please just-”

With a sharp snap, she turned to face him. Her eyes set on him hard. His hand retracted from the harsh reaction.

She only had one question for him,“ Did you even apply to Emerson?”

That one question was all she needed to decide how mad she was going to be. And when he stuttered under the pressure, not a word to defend himself from the truth, she knew. She knew she was going to be as mad as she could possibly get.

“So how many months were you - not even by omission, just straight up lying to me - telling me you were still waiting for your acceptance letter? How many times did I try to make you feel better just because I got in early admission and you 'hadn't heard back yet'? When did you decide to just drag me along even though you decided you were done being invested?”

Jonathan just looked down and uttered,“ I'm sorry.”

Nancy's lip curled in something just less than a snarl.

“I already said I don't want your apologies. I just wanted to know if I was crazy. Turns out I wasn't and you just decided you were done with me but didn't have the decency to let me know-”

He stepped forward,“ I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how to!” he was desperate to correct her assumption,” I mean, you saw it, my mom didn't even know that I… I was trying to figure it out, how to tell you without hurting you, and- and Argyle tried to tell me I just needed to do it and stop-”

“Argyle?” she scoffed,” So you two were just laughing with yourselves over how fucking clueless I had to be to just believe you this whole time, huh?”

“No! No, absolutely not-”

She cut him off,“ I don't care. And if it wasn't clear, we're done. Just leave me alone.”

With a quick yank on the car door, she climbed into the driver's seat and was backing out before Jonathan could even figure out what he would've said next if she waited.

And part of him was pissed at her for not hearing him out, like the last two and a half years of dating, and the year of friendship before that, meant nothing because of this one time he fucked up. Another part of him was pissed at Argyle for having practically warned him it would happen like this because he kept waiting. Another part was just pissed at himself for being the fault of all of it.

“Jonathan?” Joyce asked from the porch, they'd heard pretty much all of the yelling from inside,“ Can we talk about what just happened?”

But another part of him was pissed at his mom for making it all come up when she told him they were staying at Hawkins during that special dinner.

“We were going to talk after…” he whispered to himself.

Because maybe if they had gotten to have the conversation they planned on after eating, maybe it would've gone better. Maybe Nancy would've listened and maybe they would've understood each other and maybe no one would've eavesdropped on him getting dumped after being exposed as a callous liar.

“What was that?” she asked, not nearly close enough to have heard him.

“I said, no thank you.”

And Jonathan stomped off into the woods. To kick rocks, snap twigs, and be pissed at all the people he wanted to be pissed at. Alone.

Nancy was driving, but she didn't really know where she wanted to go. Tears streamed down her cheeks that she had to wipe off onto her sleeves while she went. She was at least proud that she held them in until she left. She didn't want to cry in front of Jonathan after what he did.

How could he do that to her?

All those conversations, all those plans, all those promises. Worthless. He was just walking away. And there was this speck of Nancy's brain that said “hurting a good person just like his dad did.” She was thankful it wasn't something she'd thought of to say to his face. Because she felt bad about that one as soon as she thought it.

But she was hurt. And angry. And she didn't want to go home and be hurt and angry alone. To walk past her family having a perfectly normal and boring dinner and hear her mom call after her “I thought you were going over to the Byers’ for supper?” To run up the stairs just to avoid having the answer. To sniffle into her pillow until the headache set in.

She didn't want that. She wanted to fix it because Nancy liked fixing things. But she didn't know how to fix her and Jonathan. Not like how they were after what he did.

And while she tightened her hands on the steering wheel, and wrestled with thoughts about wanting to fix something, all she came up with was something Robin said to her.

Right after it all happened, when they were waiting in the hospital together. Nancy had held Robin's hands when she was getting nervous about Steve, and then Robin held hers while she worried about Mike. And then Robin smiled and started joking trying to get her to laugh; suggesting she got back together with Steve Harrington.

Robin said,“ You might’ve not been right for one another back then, but I don’t think any two people have changed as much as you guys have.”

And, hey, maybe she had a point.

She and Jonathan just went up in flames, she didn't want to be alone, and she and Steve have changed. Maybe that was the thing she could fix. Maybe that was the next step. And even if it didn't last forever, it could last for a little bit. Just so she wasn't alone.

So Nancy got turned around at the next light, and she headed towards Loch Nora. Rolling down her window and speeding more than she should on the way. Trying to dry her face and get there before she started crying again.

When Steve heard his doorbell ring, he almost didn't answer it.

Now that he was living alone again, anybody stopping by without calling first probably had to be a Jehovah's Witness or salesman. He really didn't want to chat with either. But it was almost nine o'clock at night. That was a strange time of day for the previously mentioned sort of visitors.

So he pulled himself up from the couch and went to the front door. Making the effort of a little jog when the doorbell rang again on his way over.

“I'm comin', I'm comin',” he commented under his breath. But opening the door to see Nancy Wheeler on his doorstep was a surprise.

What was even more of a surprise was the messy hair, the bright red, glassy eyes, puffy lids, and tear-stained cheeks. He almost winced at the look of her, because Nancy doesn't look like that. Ever. But she just smiled under the clear distress and took a step forward before Steve had really even welcomed her in.

“Hi, Steve,” she said casually like she didn't know the state she was in.

“Hi, Nancy. What're- What's got you stopping by my side of town?” he asked, pulling the door back and giving her room to come the rest of the way in.

“Just… Thinking about things.” she hummed as she passed him,” About me. About you. About a combination of the two.”

“Thinking about… us?”

“Yeah. About us. And the way we used to be 'us'. Before me and Jonathan, obviously.” Nancy kept striding into the living room. Her fingers swept over the top of the hall table as she went. Hearing Steve close the door behind her instead of seeing it.

“Okay, um,” he thought and started to follow her into the house,” And- and what sort of things were you thinking about? About us?”

Nancy stopped. Waited a moment before she turned around to face him, a slight falter in her balance as she did, per all the exhaustion that was still collecting in her. But, she regained her stance. And she looked into his eyes and wondered,“ We used to have fun, didn't we?”

“Yeah… we did.” Steve studied her before he worried,” Nance, is something going on? Do you need a ride home or to crash here for the night?”

Her expression dropped. “I'm not drunk,” she told him. Almost disappointed that was the conclusion he came to out of what she was saying.

“You're just a little wobbly and-”

“I'm tired,” she brushed off and turned back around to finish making her way to his living room.

“And you're talking about us from almost three years ago-”

She abruptly told him,“ Jonathan and I broke up.”

And those words cut through the air, sharp and sudden.

“Oh.”

Steve wasn't really sure how to react. He liked them together after everything, he thought. If they were happy, it was one nice thing that came out of the Upside Down ruining a lot of people's lives. If they were happy, it was one nice thing that came out of him and Nancy breaking up.

But they weren't happy, and then they weren't together, and now Nancy was in his house talking about them and what they used to have together.

A question that kept coming at him from all directions. Something he used to think about all the time and want. And now that he's been saying for weeks that he doesn't anymore… was that really true? Did he care?

Nancy kept going, taking a seat on Steve's white couch and sinking into it, fussing with the pillow next to her,“ I broke up with him because he's been lying to me and leading me on and so, now we're nothing.”

But even if Steve Harrington did want to be with Nancy Wheeler again, that wasn't the time. She was obviously hurting and a good friend would be offering support, not thinking about what they can get out of the opportunity presented to them.

So Steve stepped up. Sat down next to her, leaving about a foot of space between their seats, and spoke earnestly to Nancy.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Nance. Did you want to talk? Or is there anything I can do-”

“I seem to remember we had a lot of fun kissing. Right, Steve?”

Steve was a bit at a loss because that wasn't really what he was getting at. And maybe that was what Nancy was getting at, but maybe not. It would be rude to assume because maybe she just really wanted to reminisce. So Steve just agreed. “Yeah. Yeah, we did that a lot. I guess. Teenagers, it's what we do.”

But then Nancy shifted herself a little closer. Leaned in a little more.

“I miss having fun with you.”

And that caused Steve some pause.

“Are you saying…?”

“I don't want to be sad about Jonathan. I just want to have fun.”

Then she was kissing him.

Nancy was kissing Steve. And despite being slightly stunned, he started kissing back. They closed their eyes and sat together in the dark of his living room. Kissing with the kind of practiced familiarity that exists when two people have done that sort of thing together before.

And it was nice.

In a way, it had to be.

It was two people who cared about each other, connecting in a way they used to.

Nancy starting to move in. Deepening the moment, making it more, and heating it up.

She broke the kiss to breathe, and in that second she whispered something.

“I love you, Steve.”

And maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Maybe she didn't have the time or clarity to think about it enough. Maybe she shouldn't have said it if she wasn't really sure. But it all broke apart because she said she didn't. So the best idea she had, in that moment while she had Steve, before she had a chance to lose him, was to say she did.

To tell him what he wanted to hear.

And Nancy got back to it. She started shrugging off the cardigan on her shoulders. Her hands separated from Steve's jaw to shake off the knit sleeves. She turned to rise and kneel on the couch. Coming up taller than Steve at that angle. And he just followed her.

They started breathing heavier, but… then Steve's eyebrows pinched together.

No.

Steve turned his face, his lips moving away from Nancy's. She started to lower, possibly planning to go for his neck when he told her,“ Nancy… I don’t think this is right.”

She shook her head, their noses almost touching with the closeness,” Come on, it’s fine. Jonathan and I broke up, so it’s-”

“No. Nancy.” Steve grabbed her by her arms and put a little distance between them,” I- I don’t think this is what I want.”

Nancy looked at him. Confused for a moment as she sat back onto her heels. Steve loosened his hold on her arms and she wondered,” But you…?”

They've been seeing each other more recently. And Robin brought it up. Was practically trying to sell Nancy on the idea before. And he caught her when she was Vecna'd, then she dove after him into Lover's Lake and patched up his injuries in the Upside Down. And he told her about all those dreams about a big family in a Winnebago. And… They broke up because Nancy didn't love him, but they'd changed so much and she just said she did. So…

Why not?

Steve took a steadying breath before he tried to explain,“ I think I thought I wanted you. But I think I just wanted to hear you say you love me again after you said you didn’t. And that's not-”

Nancy drew back,” So, this was-”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, this was just some ploy to get back at me from when I was drunk on Halloween? Really?” And it wasn't like that, but that's how it made sense to her. “Just when a girl thinks you’ve actually changed, Steve Harrington.”

That cut deep. Steve didn't want her to think of him like that, he wasn't like that. That's not what he was trying to do or let happen. He just didn't know until he did, and then he knew so he stopped it.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Nance. I just didn’t know that I-”

“That you didn’t want me. Classy.” She roughly grabbed her cardigan and stood up from the couch.

“I’m sorry-”

But Nancy was so tired of bullshit, shallow apologies.

“No, I’m sorry. My bad. I’m the stupid one.” She shook her head while she went for the door,” Screw you, Steve. Should’ve known it’d all still be bullshit.”

[literaturewithliz]

HIHI IM BACK BEARING MORE MATCHUPS <33 this time may i please get romantic for six of crows, any pronouns, bisexual, INFP 7w6, hufflepuff, libra!! (still lmao)

dislikes i forgot last time: elevators, dolls, my braces, people who can’t take no for an answer…, the planet saturn

likes i forgot last time: astronomy, history, frida kahlo (fav painter <3)

personality traits i forgot last time: forgetful, caring, i’ve been told i’m too nice for my own good, not very judgy, incapable of holding grudges, forgetful, i tend to overwork myself, this isn’t a personality trait but i always go to sleep at like 3am and wake up at 7am regretting my life choices

this time could i get six of crows, harry potter (any era <33), heroes of olympus, bridgerton and the outsiders? if those are too much you can choose whichever one you want!! tysm!!

Hello again! I hope you like your results!

Six of Crows

I match you with Nina Zenik!

I think she’d adore your sweet personality and love to be around the positive energy you bring! I believe by what you’ve told me about yourself, your a bit of a people pleaser. I think she can really help you with that, because she’s really confident and independent. She’s very chill, so I thinks he could help you not to overwork yourself and help you sleep at a reasonable time!

Harry Potter (marauders era)

I match you with Remus Lupin!

I think it’s perfect that you don’t have a judgmental mindset, because that’s what Remus needs. Also, book buddiesssss. He’d love reading with you omg. His favorite thing of all time though is having you read to him while y’all cuddle and just ahhhh. So cute. I think he’d be really interested in your interest in art! Would def ask you questions about paintings you like, and wanna know how you perceive them! He’d be a sucker for deep convos in general, tbh.

Bridgerton

I match you with Benedict Bridgerton!

Once again, this boy needs someone with a non-judgmental mindset. I feel like Benedict is very scared to be himself in public, and needs someone who he doesn’t have to pretend around. Also, you both love artttttt!? He’d take you to all art museums while y’all are courting. He’d prob propose to you at one too, I bet. I think you two would be a really sweet couple that people would love to talk too. Genuinely, no one hates y’all. Which is rare for the ton.

Heroes of Olympus

I match you with Hazel Levesque!

Once again, art buddies! Common dates for you two are drawing/painting together. I feel like she’d adore your sweet personality, and fangirl over Frida Kahlo with you. I think that while Hazel is a big sweetheart, she knows when she needs to be firm with someone, and won’t hold back. I think she could definitely help in that department, as you mentioned being too nice for your own good. I think that’s how she used to be, and feels a lot happier now that she isn’t living for the happiness of others, and wants to guide you into that direction as well.

The Outsiders

I match you with Sodapop Curtis!

I think he’s really into smart girls. And your sweet and smart, so he’s just head over heels. He knows you like books and art, so he’ll ask Ponyboy about a bunch of stuff pertaining to that. You two give off such ‘high school sweethearts’ vibes. People look at y’all and want the relationship you two have. He doesn’t really care if your a greaser or a soc, he sees you, not your class. And he loves that he doesn’t have to be afraid of being emotional around you! Your non-judgmental personality makes him feel so secure, and wants to make sure you know that you can feel secure around him, too.

I hope you like your results! This was so much fun and I loved the challenge!

( also, I have to ask, are YOU the Dex anon?)

[kitkatscabinet]

Hello ! If requests are still open, i'd love to request for The Quarry, a Max x reader headcanons, what dating him would include, please ? Thank you, and have a lovely day 💕

It's been a fuckin minute, I've been on a bit of an anime binge lately and the hyper fixation has kind of worn off but I'll get through the requests eventually.

Dating Max hcs

While I don't see him as being very outwardly big on PDA he'll definitely hold your hand and give a few kisses. If you're on the more energetic side you end up pulling him along a lot as he dopily smiles at your excitement. If not he's the type to entwine your fingers and swing your arms.

He's not a big planner and can sometimes even forget about set dates if you don't remind him. For this reason he's big on spontaneity not necessarily because he prefers it but because he can just be very scatterbrained/forgetful sometimes.

When the two of you watch things together you try and find the most scuffed shit possible. Things like hoodwinked/sharknado etc.

your biggest hypeman. You could do something as simple as go for a walk and he would be telling everyone who will listen how great you are.

He lurks on insta a lot but rarely posts, when he does its blurry/poorly taken/embarrassing photos of you and your dates. big facebook mum energy. He's more active on twitter and 100% pretends to be a flat earther, he's very proud of some of the heated debates his batshit tweets have caused and will read you the highlights.

He's like a sibling walking into your room for no reason when he's bored. You have a zoom lecture or are working from home? he doesn't care straight up walking in to do the macarena then leaves without closing the door.

While he's very caring and showers you with affection he's not the best at comforting you. Seeing you cry causes massive panic but the longer you spend together the better he gets as learns how you like to be comforted

You spend lots of time together separately e.g. cuddling or sitting in the same room as you're individually on phones/laptop. The type to lie on your ass if you're on your stomach.

Even if he's a dog person he's the type to take in the stray neighbourhood cats, he holds full conversations with them. like a dad that didn't want the pet.

The two of you like to come home after a long day and have a debrief. You have to be able to talk shit for days with Max, he's a judgy fuck.

He likes to make you laugh more than just about anything and takes great pleasure in drawing out your more ungodly cackles

Taglist: @laurakearnxy @wolfsquad @rainbows-dreams @kestisvrse @aaetherr69 @jjkk1m @g0th1ka @ghostverz @askeirkxkex @homebyeleven @infamousvampcx @seafoamfelly @innergardentoadpony @aspendvd @1kaitlvr @damndirtylitch @tinyt48 @no-thoughts-headempty856 @that-orange-worm-on-a-string @campdramaqueen @carillazz @slvthriin-k @thebookbakery @sheriff-hackett

[jostepherjoestar]

Hewwo queen😔if you're still taking requests, could I ask one with la squadra and an artist s/o? Thank you💕💕💕

La Squadra with an artist s/o

sfw // gn reader // First of all... this was the request I mentioned before. I want everyone the address me with “Hewwo Queen😔” from now on!! it make me laugh so hard cause it reminds me of the “then perish” meme thanks for the lovely request <3

Risotto

Risotto admires your talent, often times when he’s trying his best to relax for once, he finds himself looking through your sketchbooks and drawings. He loves seeing your progress and noticing how you always seem to capture the lighting right.

When he gets to your most recent sketchbooks he starts to notice a familiar figure pop up a lot. Himself. Drawn in all sort of poses, his muscles being a great way to study body shapes as you tried to explain with a cheeky grin on your face when he asks you to explain your drawings of him.

On a quiet night you snuck up to your tall boyfriend, as well as you could sneak up on an assassin, with a present behind your back. Excited to see his reaction you handed him the wrapped canvas. Risotto made sure not to rip the pretty wrapping and had a stern look on his face as he saw the surface of the painting. You knew not to expect too much from him reaction wise so you were curious to hear what he had to say.

He just kept staring at the canvas, it was a painting of the only picture you had together. Privacy being a real issue in Passione. You’d asked Melone to take the photo when Risotto was asleep and you posed beside him, kissing him on the cheek. You’d showed him the picture, promising to keep it on you at all times and not to show it to anyone.

“I love it. So much, really darling this- Thank you.” he almost sounded flustered, reaching out to hug you. His reaction was so sweet, you knew he truly loved it. He placed it on the wall near his desk so he could look at it whenever he was working away, like most nights. A couple days later you found a wrapped pencil case on your drawing desk, new pencils, your favourite kind. A little stick man drawn on the card that said “I love you” in a crooked text bubble.

Formaggio

He’s in constant awe of how good you are, constantly praising you and showing off to anyone who’ll listen. He once showed a small drawing you did of a flower he kept in his wallet to a waiter while paying for the meal, embarrassing you to the max.

Seeing you study plants, people, landscapes, buildings, lighting, shadows, basically everything, he tried to see the world through your artistic eyes. He’d never really payed attention to expressing himself that way so he was curious to try.

Setting up canvasses or sketchbooks, all sorts of materials laid out in front of you to experiment with. You set up a still life on the table in front of you, a vase of flowers and some fruit strewn about. Assuring him this isn’t about how pretty or perfect the result is, but about how he sees the setup and wants to express it on the canvas or paper.

After both finishing you’re amazed by the colours he used and how abstract he painted the flowers and fruits. Your complements boosting his confidence. “But you’re still the real artist here sweetheart.” he said as he squeezed your hip as he admired your sketch.

You put his little painting in a frame and set it on your drawing desk, reminding yourself of your number one fan whenever you looked at it. It became a new relaxing activity for the two of you to enjoy with a glass of wine and snacks as you painted and drew together.

Illuso

Illuso loves art, but in particular he loves renaissance art. Whenever you two can, you’ll visit a gallery to admire the large paintings and sculptures. Illuso is quite judgy as well, offering no soft commentary on work he doesn’t enjoy. It’s mostly modern art he doesn’t like.

You try out different styles every now and then whenever you feel stuck in your own personal one, seeing if it could inspire you. To help in those situations Illuso has bought you multiple heavy books on his favourite painters. He isn’t afraid to venture into more recent styles, but he keeps it mostly to Italian or European artists.

When you tried out a more modern style in your newest experiment, he was surprised that he liked it as much as he did. “This is actually pretty good amore.” the complement sounding perhaps more like an insult, but you knew he meant it well.

Illuso himself however couldn’t draw, paint, sculpt or even photograph. He just had a hard time expressing himself in an artistic way, commenting one day that  “Can’t I just be the art myself?” earning a chuckle from you.

Prosciutto

Now Prosciutto likes art, classical paintings and sculptures but he doesn’t pay them any mind for too long. Yes it’s nice to look at but honestly he’d rather spend his time on other stuff. So when he met you he learned to appreciate art more. You’d show him around your workspace and show him the projects you’re working on.

The more you showed him the more he realised that being an artist isn’t just a hobby, it could also be a job as well. He never really thought it about it this way, realising that art is literally all around him. You were able to broaden his view, that you teased was sometimes a little too narrow.

He looks up to you for being able to express you thoughts and ideas and make something beautiful out of them.

As a gang member who has a lot of responsibility he prefers to spend his little amount of free time with the people he loves and trusts, like sitting around reading the paper or a book while you’re working away at your next piece.

Whenever you make him something, be it a drawing, painting, sculpture, and tell him he inspired it he will try his best not to blush. Taking you into a tight hug to cover up his face, thanking you for thinking of him. Honestly he loves that you’re creative and made him open his eyes a little more to the world he thought he already knew so well.

Pesci

The two of you have a cute tradition ever since you started going out together. A couple dates in, he slid you a napkin, face flushed red, with a scraggily drawn Pesci asking if he could be your boyfriend. Of course you happily accepted, having kept the napkin and pinned it to your wall next to your bed. Since then every time you go out and there’s a napkin around the two of you draw each other a funny figure or object.

To the other’s chagrin sometimes, creating way too many inside jokes that they don’t get. What do they not get, it’s a bowl of pasta with cheese on it saying “Cheesed to meet you!”

Besides the cute napkin drawings you store safely in a box, Pesci loves helping you out whenever he can. If you need him to help transport stuff he’ll gladly rent a car and drive, making sure that the ride becomes a cute little date.

He’ll always cheer you on when you feel stuck, doing whatever he can to aid you. Or if you’re having another failed all nighter, fallen asleep on your desk, he’ll come pick you up and carry you to bed. Blushing when you kiss him on the nose to thank him for it.

Melone

Melone absolutely loves that you’re an artist! He loves analysing art and the way people respond to it, the human psyche just really excites him. Often times asking people what they were feeling or what they interpreted when looking at your work. Like he was asking around for a survey, it was just his own curiosity.

He also loves modelling for you. You want him to sit in the garden on a rock between the rose bushes? No problem! Nude? NO PROBLEM! He’ll suggest it every time you ask him to model, assuring him that you won’t need another upclose muscle study for a fourth time this week.

He’ll be your personal promoter and manager if you want him to be, making sure if you want a personal gallery opening that you don’t get scammed for rent and that you can hike up the prices just a tiny little more on your own pieces. He’ll get you connected faster than the speed of light if you want him to.

But most of all he admires how hard you work and the effort you put into your art. He sees a piece of you in every project. You’ll find him staring at your work, a love struck look in his eyes. He’s quite a sappy guy when it comes to this stuff.

Just be sure to not let him near anyone who doesn’t like your work. Another attempt at murder at a gallery opening is not the publicity you want.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio loves abstract colourful art. Other styles that are too complicated or overhyped just makes him annoyed. He loves the simplicity of it, not paying any mind to any hidden meanings. If you do a lot of stuff in a modern or abstract style he’d pay you for the pieces even though he’s your partner. He just really loves supporting you and knows some people don’t compensate artists enough.

You were surprised at his interest, thinking him to not have the temper for art. Although you did discover, during a visit to a new modern exhibit in a local gallery, that Ghiaccio HATED it when the artists act pretentious and the vision of their work doesn’t match up with Ghiacco’s. Mumbling under his breath how “It’s just a square, a beautiful one yes, but it’s not representing how your mom didn’t love you!”.

You don’t comment too much on the meaning behind the modern pieces, he doesn’t seem like he wants to think about it anyway. So you let him enjoy the colourful shapes in his own way.

For his birthday you’d painted an abstract shapely piece in his colours; icy blue’s and the pop of red from his glasses and shoes. Swirly shapes that represented his hair. When you presented it to him his eyes lit up, earning you a passionate kiss that lasted a little too long, you had the rest of La Squadra waiting to eat the birthday dinner, eyerolls and clearing throats making Ghiacco let go with an annoyed growl. He loved it, since you made it and customised to him, he’ll cherish it forever.  

[ptergwen]

last christmas

w/c: 2.0k

warnings: a few descriptions of dizziness

summary: someone might be able to get you back into the holiday spirit

a/n: hi hi hi i’m really excited about this :,) i’ve had the idea for a while and i like where it’s going! it’s based it off of the movie last christmas and this is only part one, so if it feels a little slow that’s why AND on that note i hope you enjoy

━━━ *:･。.

“you’re late,” harry comments as the coat room door bursts open. he’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to announce it. you slip behind the counter while tying up your apron. “only ten minutes. besides, we’re never busy this early.” he presses his lips together and grabs a large cup.

that’s the face he makes whenever you say or do something stupid. you’ve learned a lot about harry in your year of working together. he’s a pretty laidback guy. funny, too. you’d consider him a friend and not just your coworker. the only time he isn’t chill is when your coffee shop has what you like to call its rush hour.

it’s in a pretty prominent area in london, and it gets packed every afternoon. people like to pop in for a muffin or some tea on their lunch break. with it being christmas time and all, the shop is way more chaotic than usual. the seasonal flavors clearly draw a crowd. you take that as a compliment since you came up with a few of them.

the point is, harry can get stressed and pretty mean. you’re afraid he’ll explode if you ask him a question sometimes. he turns super red. but, he also knows more than you do. he’s had to fix countless machines you’ve almost broken. you two make an interesting team. it’s just you and harry who work mornings.

your mouth drops open when you see the line of people squished into the shop. “oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. harry hears it and hums smugly. “rush hour came early. get out there.” you quickly take your spot at the register. a man with a fuzzy red sweater and judgy look steps up. “hi, sorry for the wait. what can i get started for you?”

the rest of your morning is exactly the same. you deal with the crabby customers, harry makes the drinks. it gets better once your other coworkers clock in for the day. orders get done faster, and you have someone to joke around with from time to time.

you and harry eventually switch because he’s bored of making hot chocolates. you’re in charge of drinks while he rings people up now. it’s not too bad at first. all you have to do is dump some mixes into water and call names. then, everyone starts shouting at you. the drinks gets harder, you keep messing up, and customers aren’t happy.

harry is about to tell you off when he sees you stumble. he rushes to your side before you hit the ground. you grab his arm with an apologetic smile. “thanks.” “is it...” you nod, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

he’s your only coworker you told about your accident. it happened last year, almost a full one to date. you got this job a few months after. harry has always been understanding of it all, and he accommodates you however he can. you’re grateful to have his support.

“i’m just a little lightheaded. i’ll be fine,” you wave him off. he clicks his tongue. “you can’t stand if i let go of you.” you’d try to prove him wrong, but you don’t feel like falling on your face in front of all these people. “go take your break, y/n,” harry says softer this time. you give in, letting him take you to the coat room.

━ ❆

it’s finally the end of the day. your shift ended fine, and now you’re walking out with harry. you’re laughing at something he said inside. you pull your coat up around your face, smiling as you say your goodbyes. harry looks off to the car you assume is his before returning it. he waits until you’re out of sight to get into the passenger seat.

“who was that?” tom asks before harry can even shut his door. “y/n. we work together,” harry replies casually and buckles his seatbelt. the car engine is the only thing holding off silence. he raises an eyebrow at his brother.

“why do you ask?” “dunno. looks like you’re friends,” tom says quietly, pulling out of the spot he parked in. “you haven’t mentioned her.” “i have. you’re never home when i do,” he deadpans. tom drums his fingers on the steering wheel as they stop at a light.

there’s that void begging to be filled again. harry gives him a small smile. “thanks for picking me up, by the way. you’re cheaper than uber.” “does that mean i’m getting paid?” tom looks over at him. “joking. anytime, bro.”

harry can tell he’s waiting to bring you up again. all he did was look at you, and he’s falling. he’s never been subtle about his crushes. harry knows the two of you would get on well, but he’s not sure if you can handle a relationship right now. this year hasn’t been easy for you. you should be focusing on your health, not his tool of a brother.

at the same time, you could use some cheering up. you haven’t sang along to one christmas song playing at the shop. tom gets so into christmas every year, so maybe some of his festivity could rub off on you. it’s possible to work on two things at once, right? you’ll be happy and healthy for the new year. that’s all harry wants for you.

he wouldn’t mind the same for tom, either.

“she’s in all day tomorrow,” harry sighs. tom scrunches his face up in the side mirror. “who is?” “y/n, div. i knew you were going to ask.” there’s no denying that one. “right. i’ll stop in for a drink.”

he smiles about it the whole way home.

━ ❆

the next day is just like the last one. harry seems more on edge than usual, but you don’t know what that’s about. he does let you stay on register today so the chances of you passing out are lower. that all changes when your next customer walks in. you recognize him immediately, even with a scarf covering half his face.

what the hell is tom holland doing in your café? he pulls his scarf down and walks up to place an order. you sort of forget how to act. “you... you’re...” you stammer, eyes wide on him. smiling, he presses a finger to his lips. all he wants is a coffee, and you’re about to get him mobbed. you raise your hands in defense and focus on the register.

“sorry. can i get you anything?” you try again, lowering your voice. he’s still smiling. “sure, thanks. i’ll try an iced peppermint mocha.” a smile takes over your own face. “cool, i suggested that one.” you punch it into the register, keeping your eyes on tom. “i’ll bet it’s good, then. i trust your judgement.” he sounds genuine but teasing at the same time.

“hey, harry.” tom waves at him while he makes something in the blender. harry unenthusiastically waves back before getting to work again. you turn to harry with your eyebrows knitted together. “you know each other?” “really well. we’re brothers,” tom replies, your eyebrows now raised to the top of your head.

“what? how come you never told me?” you almost yell at harry. he awkwardly dumps the contents of the blender into a cup. “it never came up.” “you don’t talk about me, baby bro?” tom jokes, getting his card out. you give harry one more look before turning back to him. “oh, don’t worry about it. it’s on the house,” you dismiss him.

“he’s a multimillionaire, y/n. i think he’ll be fine,” harry chimes in. “family discount,” you decide. tom chuckles and shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “you’re a funny one. can i make it up to you somehow?” his eyes lock with yours. you feel fluttery, like your heart is going to jump out of your chest. there could be a few reasons for that.

“um, can i get your autograph?” you murmur out. “easy. do you have something to write with?” he watches you scramble to get a piece of paper. you pull a pen from behind the counter and hand them both to him. a line is starting to form, but you can’t even pretend to care. there are more important things going on.

harry starts making tom’s drink while he signs the paper. he leans on the counter, his tongue poking out. he’s so sweet for doing this. your alarm goes off before you can tell him that. you quickly shut it and peek over the register to see. harry comes up to you.

“isn’t that for your medication? you should probably go take it,” he says so only you hear. you shrug a shoulder. “i set it a few minutes early. i’ll be fine.”

“here we go.” tom grins and hands you the paper, then the pen. you put it down with another smile before looking over his signature. you’re confused when you don’t see one. instead, he wrote down a bunch of numbers.

it can’t be...

“it’s my number,” tom explains, glancing over at harry for a second. he scoffs and puts the lid on his drink. “i figured you’d like it more than my terrible cursive.”

your whole body feels hot. whether it’s from putting off your meds or getting hit on by tom holland, you’re not sure. you wouldn’t mind the latter, though. it’s the safer of the two. in all seriousness, the fact that he has any sort of interest in you is pretty insane.

“wow, for real? thank you.” you look at the piece of paper in your hands, then at tom. “does this mean i can text you?” he’s practically beaming at you. “or call.” “tom,” harry calls from the pickup counter. he rolls his eyes for good measure. “i guess your drink is ready,” you laugh out. tom adjusts his scarf again.

“i guess it is. i’ll talk to you later?” you hold up the piece of paper. “that’s what this is for.” he breathes out a laugh and turns to go. you’re about to call up the next customer, but he looks back at you. you shake your head. it’s going to be impossible getting through what’s left of your shift. “enjoy.” tom nods confidently. “i will.”

━ ❆

the first thing you do once you get home is call tom. your roommate is out with friends, so you’re spread out on the couch. all the lights are off to help the headache you got. with your luck, you’ll wake up with a migraine. you’ve become too familiar with nursing those. it’s given considering everything that happened.

tom picks up on the third ring. you hold your phone to your ear and sit up. “hello?” he asks sternly. you cringe at yourself for not texting him who you are first. “hi, it’s y/n. i probably should’ve texted.” his tone softens. “no, you’re fine. i was waiting for you to call.”

“were you really?” you lay your head back on the arm of the couch. he hums proudly. “tom holland was waiting for me to call him?” “he was.” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “he really enjoyed your conversation earlier.” sighing, you look at your reflection in the tv. “i did, too. i don’t think harry could say the same.”

“he hates having me around. i’m embarrassing, apparently,” tom laughs at his brother’s behavior. you press your lips into a pout. “is that why i’ve never heard about you?” “probably,” he confirms. it seemed weird that he wouldn’t want to tell the world his brother is spider-man. then again, harry isn’t like that.

“that’s nice, though. it’s like i’m the same me before the movies,” tom lightens the mood. “not that i know you, but i feel like you are,” you agree with a small smile. he’s grinning at his phone. “speaking of not knowing me, when are you free?” he smoothly transitions to the asking you out part. you were hoping you’d get there.

“saturday. why?” “i was wondering if you’d want to go out with me.” you hold the phone away from your face and silently squeal. tom didn’t need to witness that. “that would be fun, yeah.” “anywhere special you want to go?” he asks. he’s hoping there isn’t because he already has a place in mind. you actually don’t.

“surprise me.”

-

i made a new taglist form, so fill it out if you want!! the link is in my bio

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

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

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

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

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Eleven, Side A: Vigilant

read it here on AO3

A/N: this update will so much more sense if you’ve read day three of this collection, which was the word ‘ubiquitous’!

Diner in the Sky is closing.

Their bosses, a middle aged couple, told them in tears before the morning shift, how the whole mayor thing had died down and customers had tanked with it. They would shut down the last week of summer.

Being dramatic theatre kids, the New Directions and Blaine worked after hours to try and save the restaurant. Finn and Puck brought the football players and The Unholy Trinity brought the cheerleaders, and that night became a whole party. While it was fun, nobody had really bought anything. Blaine’s idea to perform turned out much better. He and the Warblers became a group of singing quartets, cooing to customers instead of a jukebox. Kurt thought it was fantastic, not just because he got to watch his boyfriend sing and dance around in a striped shirt and tight jeans all night. And oh, was it so sweet to mess up his gelled quiff during makeout sessions in the backseat of his car.

But it wasn’t enough. The Walken’s were grateful, but they had already sold, and with a heavy heart let all of their teenage employees go. Their last day was a week before their place would be cleared out and devoid of any fifties charm Kurt had grown to love.

But once again, being dramatic theatre kids, Rachel and Mercedes asked if they could use the restaurant one last time. And the Walken’s agreed.

“Oh my God!” Santana cried, clicking a few photos with her phone. “I will never get over you guys in those costumes.” Her arm is stretched around the red leather booth, not enough to draw suspicion to why it’s draped around Brittany. But Kurt notices.

Mercedes, Rachel, and Blaine do the Charlie's Angels pose, cracking up their friends, who’ve shoved themselves into three booths, back to back.

“Look, I’m gonna miss this dress, okay?” Mercedes says, pushing her way into a seat, squishing next to Nick. She has a plate of chili cheese fries in her hands, even though they agreed they wouldn’t actually work tonight. They all ended up doing it anyway. “It makes me feel like Tiana, a real Disney Princess.”

“Oh please, you sing like one already,” Blaine interjects, barely sitting on the end of the seat. His bowtie is crooked. Mercedes swats his arm, but Kurt can see her blush.

At first Kurt was a bit nervous about introducing Blaine to everyone. His dad and Carole were no big deal, Blaine has enough charm to sweet talk a lion into not eating him. No, he had been nervous for him to meet the New Directions. They were known to be judgy. Before they went out to a Movie in the Park night, Kurt ran down every moment of drama since the group’s founding. Offending one member would seriously hurt Blaine’s chances of being accepted. But, of course, he didn’t need it at all. He was a natural, jumping back and forth conversations before and after the movie, making everybody feel special. When he hit it off with Sam, Kurt and Mercedes were ecstatic at the thought of their boyfriends becoming best friends like them.

“I’m actually really sad this place is closing,” Rachel says, picking the bacon bits off her cobb salad. Kurt already knows she’s gonna give one of the cooks an earful about that. “Yeah it was a job, but it was so much fun!” Everyone else nods.

“What’s it going to be turned into, anway?” David asks, twisting around from his seat at the booth behind them.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “A laundromat,” he groans. In the middle of downtown. Whoever was doing the layout for Lima’s recreational district needed to be fired. “So now you can wash your dirty clothes with the stench of hot dogs wafting through the air!”

His friends crack up, and soon he’s laughing too. He loves that feeling, when your joke lands really well and everyone laughs with you. It’s the closest Kurt gets to a standing ovation everyday.

“I love you,” Blaine gets out through laughs, probably not even processing what he just said. But Kurt does, and his heart stops like a chipped record.

Yeah, Kurt’s known about Blaine loving him since that night in July, but he’s never said it. And in his eyes those are two different things. So as Kurt’s mind races to process what he just said (“does he really mean that? what if he just said it to be funny?”), Blaine stops laughing, his face white as a sheet.

He won’t meet Kurt’s eyes. “Um.” The room’s gone deathly quiet, save for the jukebox, constant in its crackling. “I’m gonna start cleaning up now. In the kitchen.” Blaine grabs the plate that Puck was still picking at and rushes into the kitchen. Kurt can’t decide if it’s more sweet or sad.

“Was that the first time he said it?” Tina asked from behind him. The whole diner seems to waits on his every word. Kurt doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods. Every girl at the tables loses their collective minds, shrieking and telling stories all at the same time. Even though he can’t tell his heart to stop freaking out, he smiles to himself.

“I’ll be right back.” He stands up, knocking the table with his knees. His hands are clammy, when did that happen? Rachel and Wes push him forward when his feet feel planted. Eventually they back off and Kurt pushes through the double doors.

“Hey…” he starts, watching as his boyfriend vigilantly scrubs at a spotless looking bowl. “Are you okay? You kinda disappeared there.”

Blaine nods and keeps his eyes down. “Yep! I’m totally fine,” he grits his teeth in pretending to wipe off a dish. Kurt snorts despite himself, his boyfriend’s just a really awful actor.

“Stop laughing,” Blaine pouts. There’s dozens of reflections of him in the shiny silver pots and pans and refrigerators. “It’s not funny.” He flicks some soapy water at Kurt’s forehead, and it slides down his nose.

He watches the clump of soap run down his face and flop unceremoniously onto the floor. He’ll have to do his skincare routine twice. “Oh it is on.” Kurt comes closer and scoops up a handful of suds just to dump it onto Blaine’s hair.

Blaine gasps, wiping the rest off his head before it pops. He smirks and throws some more soap at Kurt’s chest. And so the war begins.

They attack each other like it’s a snowball fight, racing to grab armfuls of soap suds and throwing them, even if they float to the ground. They fling gray water back and forth at each other and run around the kitchen to dodge it. It’s absolutely gross and undignified, but Kurt finds that he could care less.

After they’ve soaked themselves and the floor, Blaine waives a towel in surrender. “Okay! Okay! You win!” he laughs. His face is slick with a mix of sweat at sink water, and his shirt clings to his chest.

Kurt grins and grabs a towel, linking up beside him to help dry. It’s still on his mind, the whole thing that happened outside, but he doesn’t press. They’re a unit, drying and stacking dishes together, humming a song Kurt can’t exactly recognize.

“I just wanted it to be special,” Blaine admits after a while. “I was gonna set up something really cute here one day, like a candlelit dinner, and get French food from that place across the street. Something big.”

Kurt sets his glass plate down and turns to see Blaine’s face. “As much as I love French food, you didn’t have to do something so grandiose.” He’s learned Blaine loves doing things big. When it was Lauren’s birthday, one of the chefs, he had the entire staff decorate the outside of the restaurant in a beach theme since she was from California. It was gorgeous, if not time consuming.

“But you deserve it,” Blaine replied, eyebrows knitting together. “You deserve the world, Kurt.” And the great goes back to washing dishes like he didn’t say the most romantic thing on the planet.

Kurt presses his against the stainless steel counter and kisses him when words fail. Blaine smells like soapy water and the familiarity of his pine scented cologne. Kurt kisses him softly, his favorite way to kiss (he never thought he’d have a favorite way to kiss, but life has just been full of surprises recently). Blaine absolutely falls apart like this, sighing into his mouth and pulling at the back of Kurt’s shirt.

And he hopes, absolutely prays to a god he doesn’t believe in, that a kiss can convey how he feels. How he’s felt since that night in the heat of July with Italian diners.

“I love you too.”

[misscricket]

Canders

Oh @stark-illerbase, let me take you on a journey...

Anders and Carver don’t like each other in Act 1 of Dragon Age II. That’s putting it mildly. Carver is a young man probably suffering from PTSD, grieving over his twin sister and struggling with the new life his brother and mother are pursuing. He strongly identifies as a Fereldan, hence the tattoo he got at Ostagar being a mabari, and he sees his mother trying to recapture the Amell name and legacy as almost a rejection of the Hawke lifestyle back in Lothering. As to the PTSD, not only did he see his beloved Twin sister get crushed by an Ogre right in front of his eyes, he was also at the Battle of Ostagar. He had to be dragged away from the battle by his fellow soldiers and told to run for it, or else he would have stayed, and fought and died right there, so determined was he to protect his country and family.

“ Said he wanted to protect his family. That someone had to, because his father had died and, well you know how the Champion turned out. Carver took it real serious...” (World of Thedas Vol 2)

Along with a love of using a sword, this was Carver’s motivation for signing up with the army, the Blight was threatening his home, and his family, and he saw it as his duty to protect them.

“The more ground we lost, the harder he swung that plank of a sword of his. He was shouting that we had to win, that it was to keep our homes safe. I swear he was crying when we finally tackled him, but damned if I’ll hold that against him. It took three of us to drag him to cover. I had to slap him back to his senses, to make him see that killing five, or ten, more ‘spawn wouldn’t matter. The wall was on us, and dying there wasn’t going to help anyone. I said if he wanted to do his family good, he’d get them safe. “  (World of Thedas Vol 2)

So he’s a bit of a prickleberry.

And then in comes Anders. Instantly he’s hyper focused on Carver’s brother, because Carver’s brother is a Mage. And Maker have mercy Carver has been hearing about the Mage plight for years. His whole bloody life actually. 

He acutely understands the realities of living with an Apostate mage family, from the perspective of someone inside the family unit who doesn’t have magic himself. He couldn’t be too good at anything, or excel, because it drew attention. He wasn’t a Mage himself, but he too lived as an Apostate, in fear of drawing the Templars gaze.

And then Anders says, 

Anders: I'm sorry about your sister. She sounds like a special girl. 

Carver: Why? Because she was a mage? 

Anders:  (If Hawke is male) Your brother says she had a good heart. Being on the run never made her bitter. (If Hawke is female) Your other sister says she was a good person. That she never turned down a chance to help people. 

Carver: Yes, yes. I'm sure the Chantry's got a shrine with her portrait on it. 

Anders: I was trying to be nice. 

Carver: Stick to surly. It works for you

And then this one

Anders: You don't like me, Carver? 

Carver: I don't like you. 

Anders: That's unfortunate. Hating someone just because they're a mage is a shameful thing. 

Carver: I don't hate you because you're a mage. I hate you because you won't shut up about it. 

Carver: Oppression this, templars that. I'd heard enough long before you. 

Anders: Maybe it's time you put some thought into it.

To Anders, Carver looks like the sullen, angry, bitter brother of two Mages, resentful of their powers or perhaps, even, hating them because of them.

This isn’t the case. Carver bitches and moans about his siblings, but most of his gripes are familiar to anyone who has an older or over achieving sibling.

When there is a legitimate threat, Carver immediately steps between Hawke and danger. When Fenris snarls about Mages, Carver, unprompted, says.

Carver: You have a problem with my brother/sister, you have a problem with me.

It’s instantly protective, and it’s far from the only incident in the game. He continually worries whenever Hawke talks to Templars, or stirs up Mage trouble, not because he hates Mages but because he’s worried for Hawke.

Anders however can no longer seem to see greys, it’s all black and white for him. Either you’re for Mages and then you want wholescale freedom and down the Templar order, or you’re a Mage hater, and as good as a Templar.

Carver’s stance on Magic is actually one of the most subtle and nuanced in the game, if not the whole series. He understands the dangers on a level most people, who haven’t lived with unfettered magic, can’t understand. But he also understands the joys and love of those with magic, and doesn’t believe locking them up in the Circle to be the right thing, despite his potential choice to be a Templar.

So Carver and Anders...

Enemies to Lovers

The fit this trope beautifully. Even in Act 1 with surly Carver and judgy Anders. But throw in Carver either being a Templar, the thing Anders hates most in the world, or him being a Grey Warden, the organisation Anders rejected. Oh the potential for angry arguments and heated kisses.

They are not so ideologically opposed that I think they couldn’t understand each other I think, and I think if they actually hashed it out together they’d actually find a lot of common ground. It’s just whether they could get there without the prickles throwing them off course is the question...and no Carver isn’t the only prickly one.

Templar Carver

Carver joins the Templar order for two reasons.

1. His brother/sister hasn’t returned from the Deep Roads with the rest of the expedition. Bartrand has likely told him they’re all dead. That leaves him and his mother alone in the world, and Carver can’t get work. The Guards won’t have him because Aveline told them not to, and the other options are mercenary jobs or the Templars. He no longer has any mage siblings to worry about being caught, and he doesn’t have to disclose that he had Mages in his family if he doesn’t want to.

2. His namesake was a Templar. I think giving him his piece of his identity makes Carver interested in the order in a  different way. Up until then they’ve kind of been the boogeymen of the Hawke children’s lives. ‘Be good or a Templar will get you’. But his father named him after a Templar, ‘skill thoughtfully applied’. There was some value to that path. And you can’t tell me that Carver wasn’t, in many ways, his family’s personal Templar. If Bethany or Hawke had fallen...would another Mage have been able to stand against them? They would have needed a swordsman. Carver.

Anders thinks Carver has joined the Templars out of spite, or hatred. But there is a wonderful array of fiction you can have with Anders and the Order and the fact they are continually trying to hunt Anders down. Carver wouldn’t stand for it, if one of his brothers companions was threatened, and he certainly wouldn’t want him to be hurt, killed or made Tranquil, which would have been his fate should Meredith have gotten her hands on him.

Grey Warden Carver

As for the Grey!Warden path, Carver thrives as a Warden, he blossoms under that structure and purpose where Anders did not. But they have the connection of Anders having been the one to beg Stroud to take him, to put him through the Joining.

We also know that Carver knows Nathaniel, who was friends with Anders during Awakening. This likely means he knows a number of the Ferelden Wardens, and you can’t tell me they wouldn’t be curious about Anders.

Alternate Universes ideas I have toyed with writing

Tevinter - Mage Healer who refuses to use Blood Magic and the son of a powerful Mage house who doesn’t have magic himself.

Special Agents AU - Agent Hawke and Anders have a turbulent relationship because the boy always comes back hurt.

Coffee Shop AU - Anders is an overworked and exhausted Doctor. Carver is his caffeine supplier.

Werewolf AU - Alpha Carver learns that being dominant doesn’t always mean barking orders, and Omega Anders learns that brooding wolves are definitely better lovers.

Mirror Universe - What it says on the box...darkfic.

Angel AU - Carver is Anders’ guardian Angel, and he grumbles about it a lot. He also keeps losing his feathers everytime he swears, and it makes Anders laugh at him.

and many many more.

To close out this rambling dissertation on the beauty that is Canders (praise be)

Enjoy this lovely fanart drawn by the talented @frikadeller in a commission for @autumnyte-old​

Case closed!

[recurring-polynya]

Renruki for the OTP!

4, 9 , 22, 31, 35, 44,

4. When they can’t sleep, what do they do?

When she’s still living at Kuchiki Manor, Rukia likes to walk around the gardens in her pajamas in the middle of the night and talk to the koi. Byakuya does this, too, and they have passed many an insomnia night together. Once she’s married, if she can’t sleep, Rukia will get up and go do something-- make a cup of tea or draw or catch up on paperwork, and she’ll almost always wonder if Byakuya’s out talking to the fishes.

Prior to their marriage, when Renji can’t sleep, he likes to stare at the ceiling and stew in his past failures. Once they’re together, he almost never has trouble sleeping, but if he does, he’ll just snuggle Rukia until he drifts off again.

9. Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling?

Rukia has never, in her entire existence, pushed a door that said “PULL” on it. How could you even think this? How dare you think this.

Renji pushed on a pull-door one time 45 years ago and Rukia has never let him live it down for even a second.

22. Who texts more often?

They text each other in roughly equal measures, but Renji texts more, overall.

Renji is friends with a good 90%+ of the Seireitei, and even though he’s not really a gossip, he is sort of a nexus of gossip. He is on 16 different group chats and his DMs are the true forbidden archives of everything that happens in Soul Society. Aizen may have tracked the growth of Ichigo’s potential for 15 years, but he doesn’t know the full details of the time Shinji may or may not have caught Yoruichi hooking up with Soi Fon at one of Byakuya’s flower-viewing parties (an incident which had to be pieced together in postmortem by at least seven different lieutenants)

Also, Renji tries to use some semblance of grammar when he texts, but Rukia is absolutely feral in terms of sending things like “y u do this 2 me?”

Both of them are embarrassingly heavy emoji users.

31. Who has bigger cravings? What are they?

They both grew up in food insecurity, but have sort of come out of it with opposite outlooks. Renji eats on opportunity. He doesn’t really get cravings for particular things, but he’ll eat almost anything, including horrifying combinations of things. If a diner has a menu item called Garbage (anything), he will order it immediately. He is absolutely a pineapple on pizza guy. He thinks Orihime is a culinary genius. He’s somewhat thrifty by nature when it comes to eating--he’ll go out to be social, but he’s more likely to eat in, or get in a good meal at the mess hall. Over the years, he has spent a lot of time at other people’s family gatherings, and grandmothers instinctively love to feed him things.

Rukia also has a very generous palate, but there are particular things she really loves, and the one nice thing about being a Kuchiki is that she’s not shy about Treating Herself when she wants something. She loves to eat out, and since Byakuya is very Judgy about food choices, she especially loves going out for greasy junk food with Renji. The primary thing she craves is atomically spicy stuff. Poor Renji doesn’t handle spice very well, but he’s always good to come along to hype her up and take pictures of her conquests and to help her get home when she overdoes it and has tears and snot running out of her face. She will also declare that she needs dessert sometimes, and they’ll go get ice cream or some other extremely indulgent sweet, which Renji loves, even if he would never do it just for himself.

35. What do they smell when they smell amortentia?

I had to look up what this was, and apparently, it’s the love potion in Harry Potter, which smells like whatever you find most attractive, according to the HP wiki.

To Renji, it would smell like the promise of snow on a winter day, pine, wintergreen, and a jasmine perfume Rukia wore exactly once to a fancy party. It smells like a Kuchiki Rukia moodboard, and absolutely nothing like the actual Kuchiki Rukia, who smells mostly like soap, pickles, Captain Ukitake’s eucalyptus cough medicine, and cherry-flavored Chappy-brand chapstick.

To Rukia, it smells like a not-as-bad-as-it-sounds blend of gym sweat, hair tonic, soy sauce, ink, and camellias. It smells exactly like Renji actually smells. 

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

A long-standing feature of my fanfic is that Renji calls Rukia “Ru”, but only when it’s just the two of them, and he’s feeling particularly mushy toward her. It was something he started doing in their latter days in Inuzuri as his way of telling her he loved her. Astute readers may have noticed that I have had her called him “Ren” exactly once, in one of the later chapters of Between Tides.

Everyone knows this already, but their texting handles for each other are 🐒🐍🕶️ and ❄️🐰

otp meme

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Haikyuu boys not knowing their S/O danced

A/N: These boys are kinda dumb, we’ve seen it over and over so like these are 100% how I see it going 

Words: 1.8 k 

Warnings: none

Characteres: Sugawara, Hinata, Tsukishima, Kenma, Kuroo (all separate reader)

Requests open! 

So Suga is super involved in your life so he 100% knows you are part of the dance team but he has been busy every time you have a competition and hasn’t been able to make it (which is killing him on the inside like he wants to come support his girl) 

Suga

He asks you to do the routine for him and you of course are all blushy and tell him no because who wants to dance on their own in a dance uniform which he understands so he doesn’t push you 

So now here you are at a victory party for both the boy’s volleyball team and the girls dance team 

You’re not sure what to make of the two teams being together, there seems to be a lot of yelling and cheering along with the loud music

Unfortunately for you, your best friend loves dancing and is the most confident girl you know 

She pulls you to the dance floor (the middle of the living room) and starts to dance with you 

The other girls notice and come and join the two of you to dance, you start out nervous and awkward but as you keep dancing with them you are less shy and start to actually have fun with your girls on the floor

At this point all of the boys are looking at you guys and you couldn’t seem to care less, you’re having fun so that’s all that matters, well until you look across the room and lock eyes with your loving boyfriend

He is staring at you with a big smile plastered on his face, when you lock eyes he gives you a little thumbs up and smiles even bigger

You continue to dance with your friends and have a great time, when the party's over you and Suga decide to go out and get some food (because potato chips and cookies isn’t really food) and he can’t stop smiling at you 

When you pester him to tell you he can’t help but tell you how happy you looked dancing and how he has to come watch you more because you are gorgeous and look so confident when you are dancing

He just pulls you into a big hug and just tells you that he loved it so much

Hinata knows that you are a dancer, he just doesn’t really know what type like when he pictures dancers he imagines a boring ballet dancer where he would fall asleep so he asks a lot of questions but hasn’t actually seen you dance ever

 Hinata

So here you are at the party dancing with your best friends on the dance floor, they all dragged you out here and you can’t help but have a great time 

HInata is completely awestruck watching you dance and as outgoing as he is decides to get on the dance floor and join you

He is horrible at dancing and it is adorable but you can’t help but feel how happy he is to be dancing with you

He keeps asking you to show him how to do things and is laughing along with all of the girls out there and having a great time 

He also is complimenting you like crazy and telling you how cool everything you do it and how awesome you look when your body goes whoa and guaaah and you can’t help but laugh because at least he knows what he’s saying

Is living on the dance floor and Tanaka and Noya literally have their jaws on the floor because he has managed to get and keep the attention of every single girl on the dance team without thinking about it, his eyes are on you and you only like he is nice to the other girls and loves that they are helping him be a less horrible dancer but he really just loves seeing you happy out there, especially because he has never seen you dance before and you are usually so quiet and shy 

Tsukishima is a sly devil and we all know it, you say you do dance he is going to find a way to watch you even for a second, so somehow he seems to walk by the gym when you are practicing and peeks his head in and has watched you dance some without you knowing and he thinks that it is his favorite thing in the world 

Tsukki 

Now that you’re at a party and he can see you relax and dance more he is super excited low-key because he just loves it and so he tries to keep his distance some so that you don’t get nervous with him around because he can be kinda scary and when he asked you to show him things you always tell him no because he’s super judgy (which he can’t deny but he also just wants to see you dance because he thinks it’s both cute and sexy) 

You’re on the floor starting to dance with your friends and his eyes are locked on you while he continues his conversation with Yamaguchi  

You keep dancing and now you and your friends are drawing attention to yourselves (you are obviously the most gorgeous and Tsukki knows that so he is watching the other boys carefully to make sure that they keep their eyes off of you, and if he catches them staring he is going to send them the evil “I’m going to murder you” look he is known for) 

He watches you and just is enjoying seeing you have such a good time and lets you have your fun for the night celebrating the days victories 

When you two leave the party he wraps his arm around you and just pulls you close to his side and kisses the top of your head, “you looked good out there, idiot” you can literally feel the love in his words like this is soft Tsukki this is what you get 

You really don’t tell him you are on the dance team like it doesn’t really come up and you know how he hates crowds and loud noises so you don’t ever really care about it, you two just go your separate ways when it comes to clubs and then meet up afterwards to talk and hang out

Kenma

You are both quiet and shy so he kinda just assumed you went to a book club or something peaceful and calm so the last thing he was expecting was for you to be wearing your Nekoma Dance Team jacket to the volleyball celebration party and be dancing on the floor with the other dance girls

He actually isn’t the first one to notice it, he is only here because Kuroo threatened him, so he is playing his game in the corner when Lev comes up to him and makes some dumb comment about how hot Kenma’s gilrfriend looks and Kenma’s eyes dart up confused

What did Lev mean that you looked hot right now, you weren’t here, why what no 

Then he scans the room and sees you on the dance floor and his heart drops, there you were laughing and dancing with your friends, he has to blink a couple of times to make sure that he sees you right, he does

A whole swarm of emotions floods him, he is happy to see you, but nervous that you want to be like that all the time, and excited that you came to support him but you also didn’t say hello

He goes back to his game and tries to ignore all of the emotions happening inside of his little body 

He is in the middle of a level when he senses someone approaching him, “Kenma! You said you weren't coming!!” You plop right down next to him and lean your head on his shoulder 

He glances at you and you smile back at him, “Baby I looked everywhere for you and then the girls dragged me to the dance floor and they wouldn’t let me off” you giggle at him, “if you were there you could have fought them all off for me” 

This makes him smile just a little bit because he knows that he cannot fight off anyone but that you love him enough to look for him 

He doesn't bring up the subject of you dancing until a few weeks later when he shows up at one of your dance competitions, if you go to every single one of his games then he can deal with the loud music and crowds for you

He ends up watching the whole round and telling you all of the critiques of the dancers and ends up guessing the placements correctly

He is very sweet and you love him 

He has zero idea how he missed the fact that you are on the dance team, like he knows that you are in a club and you literally have a keychain of it on your backpack but the baby is book smart not necessarily common sense smart 

Kuroo

So seeing you in your Dance team jacket literally working it on the dance floor shocks him, like you look so good and he never even knew about it

To be fair though he asked you a couple of times what you were in and you got distracted and changed the subject and he did always ask how club stuff was and you always told him good and that what you were working on was hard, like he genuinely thought that it was something else, what it was he had no idea but not this 

You were literally dancing so perfectly and looked so hot that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you 

Like he is practically drooling over and and just is completely in awe watching your body sway and move like that, you literally are so beautiful that he can’t help it 

You finish dancing after a couple of songs and as you are moving away from your friends you can’t help but look over and see him looking at you and you blush really hard and try and move away from his eye 

He of course catches up with you and asks what he did wrong

You reassure him that he didn’t do anything and that he is fine, you’re just embarrassed, like he really just saw you dance like that 

He gives you one of his big smirks and tells you that it was so hot and that he loved watching you dance, like he literally could watch you forever so now you are going to have to go dancing with him more often because oml he was so happy and is super supportive

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-5)

Word count: 5.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​ I love you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Y/N! Y/N, open the door!”

You hurriedly stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and a towel wrapped around your waist.

Kevin was standing in front of the bathroom, not even a little concerned about the state of your dressing. 

“We’re taking bets about whether it will rain this week or not,” he announced. “You have to cast your vote.”

You looked around the room. Meg’s door was locked from the outside which meant she wasn’t here.

“Who let you in?”

“I have a key to your apartment,” he said matter of factly. “So does Cas.”

“Vaguely concerning, but I’ll allow it, since you’re not trying to rob me. Only tempting me with the vices of gambling.”

Kevin looked delighted at the retort. “Aha! So you do have a cutting edge humour. I’m winning 5 bucks over that from Jack.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into your bedroom, finding your drawstring pants and pulling them on.

“If it makes you feel any better, you now have a key to our apartment also as well as Cas’s.” Kevin jerked his head towards the kitchen counter where a new pair of brass keys shone in the light. “On this floor, we all like to keep the keys handy in case of emergencies.”

He plopped down on the sofa. “So about the rain…”

It looked like he really had broken into your apartment to ask for your bet.

“It’s September. It’s never going to rain,” you said.

“And you’re sure about that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Should I be checking the weather forecast? And how much are we playing for?”

“You can check the forecast,” he said sagely, “It’s allowed. I have to warn you though that basing your vote off it has proven disadvantageous in the past. And we’re not playing for money.”

“Do I get to know who sided with what?”

“Not till you’ve put your bet in.”

“Dang it!”

He wiggled his eyebrows making you laugh. “Okay. I’m sure. I’ll go with what I said. It’ll not rain.”

“Oh, and Y/N-” he smiled evilly- “You should know that if it rains, you’re going to have to get wet in it! You have Pam, Cas and Jack siding with you so far.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of drenching in the rain. “It’s not going to rain, so I’m safe. What happens if I get it right?”

“The losing party has to be a company to judgy Judy and sun bath all of Sunday. Lotion will be provided.”

“This is ridiculous,” you laughed.

He stopped at the door. “Only when you lose.”

You spent the weekend catching up on your reading and familiarising yourself with the syllabus. When that was done, you set to work on your assignments… and when that was done, too, there were always job applications. Sustenance was unfortunately a necessity.

Come Sunday evening, Meg dragged you to the downstairs to the get together. It surprised you just how much everyone liked having you around, especially since you contributed absolutely nothing to the conversations. Pam pulled an accurate impression of the undergrads on the second floor and everyone laughed. 

It was a homely feeling.

************

Sam was already ready and going through the papers on his desk when you entered the lecture hall. He did not look up from them as the class slowly filled up. You didn’t necessarily make it a point to sit with Madison but somehow for most Civil Procedure classes she happened to sit next to you. You liked her well enough, however those girls who came with her said such awful things sometimes that it made you wish you were anywhere but around them.

Today Madison came in before any of the girls and took her seat next to you. 

“Hi,” she said, drawing her laptop out.

“Hey!” You smiled at her.

“Thanks for sitting besides me,” Madison said. “Having you around makes me feel so calm, and helps me concentrate.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said, then smiled apologetically. “You know how the girls are… they’re always so jittery and gossiping. But you… you just have such a steady energy around you.”

Strange. To you, it didn’t feel like you had energy at all.

“You know what I mean, right?” Madison said. “I feel like I can tell you anything, share things with you and you won’t judge me or tell on me. I feel like you wouldn’t turn me away if I ever asked for your help. You are just such a nice person.”

“Madison…” you said, touched. 

She shook her head. “You can just call me Maddie, if you like.”

She wasn’t necessarily right about you being a ‘nice person,’ but you certainly wouldn’t judge her… you of all people after everything you had done. And when it came to helping out another, it was just the decent thing to do, especially for someone you called a friend. It didn’t make you a nice person. It just made Madison’s other friends not so good at friendship.

“Alright then, Maddie,” you smiled. “We shall sit next to each other for as long as you want.”

Madison beamed. Not her usual girly laugh, instead a smile that reached her eyes in all their seriousness. You wondered what sorrow she’d had to live through. 

“Maddie!” Rebecca came up from behind and sat next to Madison. “I missed you over the weekend. Oh, we’re sitting with Y/N again?”

“Yes,” said Madison too sweetly. “She’s my friend. Try not to steal her answers though, Becca.”

Behind her Lacey giggled.

You had to cover your face, too, to hide the grin.

Sam called the class to attention, smiling at everyone. It was breathtaking and painful in equal parts.

“Before we begin,” he said, “It’s been brought to my attention that I’m the only one who hasn’t set you guys an assignment. We can’t have that happening now, can we?”

There were a few groans, and Sam gave everyone a teasing look. “It’s not something that’ll take up a lot of your time. I’m not setting you an essay, just a 500 word brief. Before we get into that, I need to know you guys better. Everyone who has a pre-law please raise your hands. About fifteen to twenty percent of the class raised their hands. 

“Impressive,” Sam said. “Sociology, political science or any other law allied field?”

Majority of the remaining class raised their hands.

“And how many of you guys have worked in any capacity in law fields? Have actual experience?”

About ten to twelve people raised their hands. Slowly, you put your arm up as well.

At the edge of your vision you sensed Rebecca glaring at your hand. 

Sam sweeped his gaze over the class. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to be one of the crowd, because for a split second the startlement was clear on his face. He blinked twice, then looked away.

Split second of eye contact was enough to make you weak in your knees. Bring back a flood of memories, of having looked so deeply in those very eyes. 

He paused, cleared his throat and said, “I suppose this will be somewhat easier for those of you who have a pre-law background. For your assignment, you have to pick the most dicey, interesting or unusual Civil suit or petition you can find, and describe in brief how the written content and consequent presentation saved or screwed over the case. Go crazy with the type of case, as long as it’s civil and filed in the states. The law library has a complete and updated archive of all judgements and petitions in public domain for your reference.”

Giving you a stink eye, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Yes… Miss Staten, is it?”

“Yes, Rebecca Staten,” she said, practically gloating. “Do you specialise in Civil cases? And if so, can we pick one of yours?”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched a little and he brushed at the hair near his ear. To anyone else it would have meant nothing, barely noticeable. You knew better. It was discomfort. He was uncomfortable with the question. Seeing him, you felt an instinctive spark of annoyance towards Rebecca, which was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t your place to feel anything on Sam’s behalf. Not anymore.

“I don’t specialise in Civil… I do predominantly take them up, but that’s certainly not it. In fact, my most distinctive case isn’t even a Civil one,” he said. “Rest assured, if you want to make the most of the assignment, none of my cases would be of any help.”

“Makes me wonder…” Madison whispered next to you.

“You have until Wednesday to hand it in. It does not have to be technical, so it shouldn’t take much time,” he announced. “Back to the class now. We’re working on Trial components and rules…”

After the classes for the day ended, Madison caught up with you.

“Where are you headed?” She asked.

“The library.”

“Oh, excellent, I was heading there, too,” she said happily.

“Where are the others?” It made you feel like a wretched person, but you didn’t think you could take anymore of those girls.

Madison wiped her brow. “They wanted to head out to San Francisco for the night.”

“But it’s a Monday,” you spoke unthinkingly.

She gave you a look which made it clear that she shared your opinion.

“I thought you’d want to research Mr. Winchester's assignment. Do you mind if I join?”

The thought of working with someone for once was actually pleasant, “Of course I don’t. It’ll be fun, Maddie.”

She smiled at your use of her nickname. “Alright then.”

The Robert Crown law library was smaller and very modern in comparison to the Green library. It was all white walls, beige minimalist furniture and compactly placed bookshelves next to rows of computers. The appearance didn’t fool you in the least. You knew from having read and well, from having heard about it so many times from Sam that it was extensively stocked with information on thousands and millions of suits, petitions, litigations and what not. It had every possible book that you would want to refer to while building a case, by-laws, constitutional laws and so many other rules and regulations. 

The two of you picked adjacent computers and began sifting through the cases. The sorting system itself boggled your mind, let alone the data within. Soon you were lost in a sea of cases, just reading through them instead of researching for the assignment. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Madison besides you.

“Mmmm?” You asked absentmindedly.

When she didn’t reply, you looked over. Madison was staring intently at the screen.

“You know when Mr. Winchester was talking to Becca earlier?” She asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah?” You remembered vividly.

“He mentioned how his most distinctive case wasn’t a Civil one?” Her voice was low. “I got curious and looked it up.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

“Turns out he was downplaying it. This looks like a huge deal.”

Despite everything, you gave your swivel chair a push and moved next to Madison.

“What’s it about?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“It’s complicated and over two years old. Looks like it’s a matter of twin homicides in conjunction with multiple matters of abuse and a custody battle. It says he was working with Simpsons and associates in LA back then.”

“LA?” 

“Yeah.” She added guiltily, “I pulled out his public profile in accordance with his registration with the Bar Council. It has his whole bio-data.”

You knew you shouldn’t look. God, you knew it and you looked anyway.

“Stanford… Yale… and there’s a small town in Kansas where he was registered for a year. Then one year in NY, Four in LA, and two at Griswold Acton.”

New York… So he did go there. The thought pierced you like a shard. 

“I think... I think I’m gonna go back now,” you said quietly.

Madison looked at the watch. “Shit! It’s already past 7! Yeah, we should hurry.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Madison said, as you walked along the curb, “The weekend after this one, I’m throwing a party at this bar a few blocks away. And I really want you to come.”

“Is it your birthday?” You asked, feeling awful that you were asking after being invited.

“Yes, the next day. I’m doing this the night before so we’ll be together when the clock hits 12. You’ll come, right?”

You hesitated.

“It’ll be fun, really. I know the girls can be a bit too much sometimes, but there’ll be other people.”

That was even worse.

“It would mean a lot to me,” she insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Only if you let me get you a present.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but then gave in. “Okay.” She threw her arms around you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wandered back to the apartment, racking your brain about what to put in the assignment. Nothing came to you.

Weird dreams interrupted your sleep that night, homicides and custody disputes. You kept yelling that the child was yours and like in the old 70’s movies, the judge banged the gavel calling for order.... Then, the scene shifted. You were trapped, your hands and shoulders bound. There was glass around you. Shards of glass, blood and icy water, numbing your senses, dulling your pain as it soaked your hair and drenched you to the bone. You wanted to scream for help, but cold also made you sleepy. You wanted to ask the judge… tell him to hand you the child, but there was no judge… just cold and hammering rain.

You woke up chilly. Drenched in sweat, but still very cold. It was just a dream… not reality. Just a dream. You rolled over and sleep found you again.

“You look like you came back from the dead,” Meredith said first thing next morning. 

You ignored her and took your seat in the row ahead of her. Unfortunately, that put you right next to Brad. 

Sam was on time as usual. He ran through his papers as the tech set up his laptop.

“He’s alright, really,” Brad said, making conversation. “Girls seem to swoon on him because he is the youngest faculty member and all. But he’s just average as a teacher.”

“I think he is fantastic,” you said, jutting your chin out, voice unnecessarily sharp.

Brad raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t like the other girls.”

“If by other girls you mean the ones that worked hard to get into Stanford and know how to appreciate a good teacher, then I’m exactly like the other girls.”

“Ooohhh, feisty,” he murmured under his breath. Sam called the class to attention and you chose to ignore Brad completely for the rest of the lecture, then made sure that you sat by yourself for the rest of the day.

The deadline for the assignment was tomorrow and you had no clue what you were handing in. That did not help with the anxiety.

On your way to the library, you dropped by at the Student’s employment office- without much hope- to check on that application anyway.

The girl at the desk ran through your profile once again as you gave her your name.

“Y/N,” she said in a monotone of someone who was bored out of their mind. “I actually have a hit for you here. I should warn you, it's a tough gig-”

“Tell me!” You interrupted before she had even finished the sentence. 

She peered at you over her spectacles. “The odd hours librarian’s post at the Law library. You had an upper hand over the other applicants because you are a law student and live close by. You also have experience as a librarian before.”

“Yes, I want it!”

“Chillax, woman,” said the girl. “It’s an odd hours job. That means the night shift on three days and alternate weekends. It’s an 8 hour shift and 5 shifts per week. Twenty an hour.”

“Done.” You thought back to last night. It wasn’t like you were getting any good sleep anyway. Might as well make money out of it. 

The girl shrugged. “It’s yours then. You start this weekend. I’ll hook you up with the other librarian peeps. They’ll let you know about your shift.”

You thanked her and happily walked back towards the Law building. At least one thing seemed to have worked in your favour. One minute you were walking ahead, next you were on the floor, all your things knocked out of your hands. 

“I’m so sorry.”

You looked up into stunning hazel eyes. They were as familiar even now as if you had looked into them every day of your life.

Sam froze, having just realised that he had walked into you.

Up close he looked tired and definitely a lot thinner.

“Oh, God. Y/N!” Madison, who happened to walk by, reached out to help you to your feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Numbly, you nodded. 

Sam methodically picked up your books and wallet, stacked them in a pile and handed it to you.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, quietly, eyes trained on the books in your hand.

You shook your head.

He acknowledged it with a jerk of chin and left without another word.

“What an ass!” Brad muttered coming up from behind. “First he knocked her down and then didn’t even apologise. I don’t get why y’all idealise him so much.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lacey said. “Y/N was the one who walked into him without looking. Ruined his perfectly good suit with her chapstick smear. And he did apologise!”

You excused yourself as quickly as you could, still feeling the tingle on your skin where his fingers had lightly brushed yours, senses still filled with the smell of his cologne. Even after all these years it was still the same. 

You had bought that cologne for him. He still used the same one.

Tears pressed your eyes as you entered the vine covered gates of the apartment. 

At the lift, you ran into Cas.

He looked pleasantly surprised at the sight of you, which was weird because you both did stay on the same floor.

“You look… are you okay?” His voice was coloured with concern.

You had to stop running into people when you were upset. Had to.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “I was heading home.”

“Yes, home,” Cas sighed, absentmindedly. “I miss having a roommate sometimes. Conversation is what makes it home.”

You had reached your door.

“Hey,” you said, making an impulse decision. “Do you maybe wanna come in for a mug of coffee or something?”

He looked startled again. “Yeah, I would love that.”

Meg wasn’t home. You weren’t surprised. 

“Please make yourself at home,” you waved towards the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”

You quickly dumped your bag and books on your bed, swapped the shoes for your comfortable slippers, tied your hair in a bun at the top of your head and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Cas was in the balcony, looking at the front yard. 

“You guys have a fantastic view from here,” he said morosely. You felt bad for him. His was the only flat on the floor that didn’t have the yard facing balcony.

“Why didn’t you ask Pam to sublet you this one after the last tenant moved out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time at the apartment anyway with the night shifts and emergencies at the hospital. Besides, mine’s a small one and I don’t have a roommate, so it's easy to clean after.”

“Is it too much work at the hospital?” You asked sympathetically, then realised how dumb the question was. It was a hospital. Of course there was too much work.

“Sometimes,” he answered truthfully. “The ER duty is dreadful because a lot of times you just can’t save a life. OPD days are so much better.”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“What about you? How’s law school treating you?”

You told him about how everyone was just so different from you. They had social circles and Monday night outs and were worried about internships for status as opposed to just wanting a job or actually learning. You told him about how there always seemed to be an ulterior motive to everything that they said or did.

It sounded like a rant even to your own ears, but God it felt good to unload. Cas was probably bored out of his mind. You let it all out anyway.

“And then- then they judge people based on their appearance. Just because I wear a sweater all the time doesn’t make me drab. I’m just really sensitive to cold. Just because a professor is young and good looking, doesn’t by default make him a bad teacher.”

You had to stop to take a breath, and were immediately possessed by a sense of embarrassment. Why were you putting this on a very tired Cas?

Cas, however, looked deep in thought. “Hmmm…” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong. You don’t have any immediate family, do you?”

You shook your head. “I have no family left.”

Cas didn’t ask you the why or how come.

“Maybe that’s why,” he said, face resting on his palms. “You don’t live for anyone but yourself. You don’t have to put on a show like them.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that you are being motivated by a desire to learn, to become a better person and to help the world become a better place. Most people are motivated by power, or money or just wanting to create an impression. No wonder you don’t fit in, Y/N. You stand out.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Cas put his hands up. “I mean it. Besides, you have us. I can tell for a fact that people here really like you. So who cares about the rich ass kids? They’re the reason lawyers got a bad rep.”

You giggled.

Then you remembered the coffee pot. “Oh, damn!”

Cas chuckled as you went to grab the pot and fix two coffees.

“What’re you thinking about the weekend?” Cas called from the balcony, “I think we’re on the losing side.”

“It’s September. It’s not raining.”

“That’s what I said last week. It rained.”

“Oh, no!”

Cas took a mug from your hands. “Thank you.”

He took a sip. “The forecast is never useful. Wish we could sue them for it.”

You put your mug down.

“CAS! You are a genius!”

“What?”

You rushed to your room to grab your computer, then settled on a chair, quickly typing the words out.

“I knew it!” You shouted in vindication. “I remembered reading about it.”

“Errr….” Cas hovered over you utterly confused. You turned the laptop so he could see.

“Look! In 1988 a woman did sue Chicago’s famous newsman over a wrong weather forecast!”

“Are you serious?” He put the mug down and sat next to you, reading the article.

You pointed at it excitedly. “See that’s what it says.”

“They dismissed her, right?”

You grinned at him. “She settled outside for a sum of half a million.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cas whistled.

“Oh, this is perfect for the assignment! Thanks, Cas.”

“My pleasure,” he said, somewhat bemused.

He read over your shoulder as you wrote the brief extract, pointing out how it was a trend setter of it’s kind when it came to dragging news media to the court. The woman had missed a flight which was cancelled as a precaution to the bad forecast and viola! It never rained. 

“This look good?”

“It’s perfect!” Cas said.

You dropped the file into the mailbox, then paused when it came to actually typing a mail, fingers trembling.

This was Sam you were writing to. He used to be your Sam.

You did it nevertheless. You typed his id and the thumbnail of his profile appeared. He wore a tan turtleneck and was smiling at the person holding the camera. Who could it have been?

“Is that the young professor you were talking about?” Cas asked offhandedly. 

“Mhmm.”

“I can see why he gets that sort of attention,” Cas chuckled.

You saw it, too.

Sighing internally, you hit the send button.

Cas high-fived you. “There are very few things in life as satisfying as a last minute submission,” he said, then looked at the watch. “I better go now, I’ve got an early morning shift.”

“Oh, wait for a bit,” you said, rushing to the kitchen counter, and pulling out a jar of cookies. “Here, have one. I got a job today, as a librarian. My Gran used to say that one should always offer sweets while  breaking a good news.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Cas took a bite of the crumbly choco-chip cookie and moaned. “Oh, these are wonderful!”

You thrust the entire jar in his hand. “Here, take them all. I just like baking them…. not much of an eater.”

“You made these?” His voice was incredulous and you blushed. 

“My Gran used to run a small bakery from our house. I grew up watching her do what she loved the most. The smell of baking comforts me… and let’s just say I needed to be comforted lately.”

“Well, these are excellent!” He didn’t even resist for the sake of formality and took the jar.

You walked him to the door. “Hey, Cas. Thank you for tonight.”

It had been the first time since you had moved to the city that you actually felt like you had talked because you wanted to, shared what you really felt. It was the first time you had truly rejoiced that the bubble was gone and you could be happy in the company of another person.

Cas didn’t ask why you had thanked him. Oddly, he understood.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, where it lay heavy and comforting. “I had a great evening. If you ever want to share anything or you know bake too many cookies, I should tell you that I live right next door.”

You giggled. Cas tightened his grip on your shoulder for a moment and let go. He waved at you once more before closing his door. 

Later, as you lay in bed, you thought through the day and just how your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were distraught and the next, excited. The way that Brad annoyed you, no one ever had except for that one idiot in high school. You were used to having people rely on you. Even when you worked as a paralegal all through last year, your boss had been happy with your work, your colleagues were polite… but no one had remotely elicited any sort of reaction from you. It had been the same through all those years of pre-law. It hadn’t ever bothered you that you weren’t a part of the group. In fact, now that you looked back on the years, everything seemed so hazy, like you were looking at your memories through a heavily fogged glass.

In fact, that one year spent with Sam was clearer than the seven years spent after. You could recall every moment lived with him as if it was merely yesterday. And yet things that had happened a month back felt like they had happened ages ago. 

Deep down, you knew the reason for it. With Sam you had been happy… happier than you had ever been before. It was the last time you had been happy, too. So did that mean you were beginning to be happy again now? 

Re-learning it one step at a time?

You rolled, mulling the thought over in your head and fell asleep dreamlessly after a very long time.

************

“Oh, the sweet release of Friday!” Madison moaned. “I can’t wait to fall into bed. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“I actually have plans for tonight,” you told her, “So I’m not expecting to see the bed anytime soon.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t show up to Brad’s party, but you have plans tonight?” Lacey wiggled her eyebrows. “Is there a special someone?”

It was Jack. You were going bowling with Jack and whoever else was free. You had protested the plan by explaining how awful you were at bowling. It had only delighted Jack more. Apparently, he sucked, too, but he really wanted to impress the girl who worked at the bowling alley. If he came off looking better than you, maybe, just maybe he’d have a chance with her. It seemed like a very very unlikely event, but you didn’t have the heart of telling him that. In fact, to your surprise you found yourself really excited for the evening.

“Just a friend.” You shrugged.

Lacey looked like she was about to press her point when Madison interrupted her.

“Oh, did any of you hear from Mr. Winchester? Regarding the assignment?” 

You threw her a grateful look for changing the topic.

Madison had received a reply on Wednesday evening with a positive critique and so had Rebecca along with a few more people. 

It was all Rebecca needed to go on and on about the assignment, and how Mr. Winchester loved her work and remembered her name. You were a little disappointed that you never received a critique… but were you even expecting a reply from Sam? You had accepted that he was going to ignore you.

Sam did not mention the assignment at all. He made a few timed jokes about how everyone hated the last class on a Friday including him and he’d make it a point to let everyone off fifteen minutes early. The lecture was as captivating as usual. He spoke with such passion for law that even the most monotonous topics became suddenly interesting. You wouldn’t have cared if he had even extended the class, but he kept his promise and ended it about ten minutes early.

“Before you all leave for a much deserved weekend,” he said, “I want to congratulate you all on an assignment well done. Most of you had the most interesting topics picked out for the note. It certainly made for entertaining reads. I was hoping at least someone would bring up the several instances when Red bull got sued and I wasn’t disappointed. Four of you did. I’m sorry I couldn’t reply back to all of the emails, but there was a particular one that I’d like to bring to your attention. A 1988 lawsuit turned to a petition after a woman sued Chicago’s famous newsman Gary Holster over the wrong forecast.”

You could barely believe your ears.

“Mary Johnson was flying from Domestic Chicago to LAX along with 122 other passengers. And after predictions of a heavy storm, the flight was cancelled. Of course. it barely even rained. As a result, Miss Johnson lost a prospective job and the opportunity at a better life. What started as a snowflake of a suit, snowballed into a petition with over 76 plaintiffs after a newspaper published her story tagging it as ridiculous. The other passengers reached out to her, expanding into a full-fledged writ.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “All of you should take a look at the case as well as Ms. Y/L/N’s note. It was a particularly smart choice to pick this case because I had asked for weird and unusual… and the exact oddity of the case was what made it a national sensation in the late 80’s.”

Sam looked up, with precision, straight into your eyes. “Good job, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. The corner of your eyes stung.

Behind you Lacey muttered, “Oh, look, yours isn’t the only name he remembers, Ms. Staten.”

“Have a great weekend!” Sam wished before leaving the room. The class immediately broke into a babble and some people turned to spot you in the crowd. A few of them even came up to you to congratulate on an assignment well done. You promised to forward the assignment to the class group so everyone could see it. As it turned, out a couple of people stayed in the building next to yours. 

While leaving, you did notice Rebecca staring at you with ill concealed dislike and something close to suspicion.

“Y/N!” Jack was waiting for you in the front yard, which was officially nicknamed the meadow. He was sitting next to Judgy Judy with a satchel slung across his body.

“Hey, I’m going to run upstairs and drop my bag.” 

He sprang up from the parapet and eased your bag off your shoulder. “Don’t bother. We can just drop it off at Pam’s. Watch.”

He slid the shutter to her ground floor flat window and with extreme expertise pushed your big inside from in between to bars.

“Genius!” You lauded.

Jack grinned, “Pam is home and sleeping. By the time we get back, she’ll be up, ready to handover the bag.”

“Truly epic.”

“You guys don’t have too much fun without me!” Kevin yelled from his balcony where he was sitting with Cas. He looked bummed.

“What’s up with him?” 

Jack waved at Kevin and said loudly enough for him to hear, “Nothing. Kev’s just pissed that the weather is clear.”

Kevin cursed. “That dumb reported said it was going to rain. I’m gonna sue her!”

Next to him, Cas gave you a pointed look and winked. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Jack offered you his arm and you took it, feeling a strange happiness settle within you. Hand in hand you walked out. For the first time in years you didn’t know what to expect of tomorrow or even the next moment. The feeling was worth living for.

*******************************

A/N 2: Heads up! There’s still sometime before we find out what exactly went down between these two, but in the present timeline, it’s mostly just uphill from now. 

I had a very, very hard day, today. Hoping it will be uphill for me, too, from now on :)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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[heyyyharry]

Chapter 10: Truth or Truth

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which the truth comes out.

Word count: 6.6k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

Well, this is one crazy chapter 👀 Let me know what you think because I’m thirsty for feedback. But also don’t be to harsh on me I’m fragile.

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The last Sunday of the month. Laura Hilfgard’s flat. Y/N’s book was almost finished and ready for submission, and she was at the top of her game. She’d been putting off everything else to write, and for the first time in her life, everything was happening according to plan. Last year’s Y/N would’ve spent every passing moment waiting for something to go wrong. The writer-to-be Y/N, however, was living her best life.

“Are you sure you want to omit the confrontation scene in chapter ten?” Laura asked once they’d stopped for a tea break.

Y/N stirred her tea slowly, still contemplating her handwritten notes. “You don’t need drama in every chapter. It’s not realistic.”

“It’s fiction,” said Laura. Y/N glanced up with an eyebrow lifted, and the agent exhaled as she raised her hands, palms out. “Sorry, ma’am. Your book.”

Blowing into her tea, Y/N closed her pink notebook and took a sip. “Sorry, it’s just the story is based on what happened to me.”

“Oh?” Laura blinked, sounding both surprised and intrigued.

“I changed a few things,” Y/N said. “But yeah, my boyfriend used to be my neighbour. We met in his treehouse twelve years ago.”

“Your boyfriend is Harry Styles, right?”

“You know him?”

“Everyone does.” Laura stopped stirring her tea to add more sugar with the same spoon. She’d been stirring and adding sugar for the last five minutes, which made Y/N wonder if she was going to drink at all. “I’ve heard so many stories about you two. You make a fine couple.”

“You’ve heard stories about us?” Y/N carefully set down her cup and smiled questioningly at the woman. “From whom?”

“Everyone,” Laura said and finally brought the cup to her red lips. Y/N watched Laura take the first sip of her overly sweet tea, and the only thing that came to Y/N’s mind was the likelihood of a connection between Laura and Harry.

Impossible. Harry would never have interfered. Not after their fight about John Conall. Besides, Blake had been the one who’d suggested her to Laura, not Harry. So how could Harry have possibly done anything?

Or could he?

What if he’d contacted Laura right after Blake had given the manuscript to her? No, Harry would never lie to Y/N. Harry, of all people, would understand how much this meant to her, that she’d accomplished everything on her own without his help. Harry, of all people, would believe in her.

Once she got back to her flat, she found herself pacing back and forth in her living room, clutching her phone to her chest as she tried to decide if she should just call and ask him. Him saying he had no connection to her literary agent would put Y/N out of her misery. But that would prove that she didn’t trust him, and he’d be so angry, and they would fight again. Things had been going so well recently she didn’t want to mess it up. Although there was a tiny part of her doubting everything, mostly herself…

Her phone rang, and she jumped. It was Harry. Biting her nail, she slid her thumb across the screen to answer and tried her best not to sound like she’d been overthinking. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, are you working?”

“I just got back from Laura’s.”

“Is the book done?”

“Yup. We’ve submitted it to some publishers, and all we have to do now is wait.”

“That’s my girl.”

The question about Laura was on the tip of her tongue. She bit her nail instead and took a seat on the couch as he went on, “Don’t hate me for what I’m about to say, okay?”

“Okay.” She kept her tone light and neutral while unconsciously picking at a thread on her skirt.

“I forgot that I’d have dinner with my dad. I know I said I’d take you out tonight–”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly and sat on her hand to stop her fidgeting. “You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with your dad.”

“Yeah,” he sighed contentedly. “Now that I don’t have to hide it from my mum or Gemma anymore, I can support Dad and Emi without feeling bad about it.”

“Support? As in...financially?” She hoped she didn’t sound too judgy.

He was quiet for a full second. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Harry…”

“No, hear me out. They owed the bank a lot of money because of the accident. I only helped them pay their debt. It’s not like I’m buying them a car or a house.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “You’ve been giving them so many expensive things, and Isaac told me you’ve also been helping Emi get back to acting.”

“ ‘Help’ as in I got her to castings. She still needs to audition like everyone else. I don’t ask directors to give her roles that she’s incompetent at, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything.” Maybe she was. “It’s just...you can’t live their lives for them, Harry.”

“I don’t. I’m only trying to help.”

“You can help, and you should. Just don’t overspend on them.”

“They’re family.”

She almost told him ‘not really’ and ‘I still don’t trust them’, but then let it go once he fell silent. “That wasn’t a fight, was it?” she asked.

“Of course not, kid.” His low laugh brought her a sense of relief. She straightened before leaning into the couch, staring at one of the cracks on her ceiling.

“I gotta go now. Talk to you later?” he said cautiously.

So she kept her tone light. “Sure. Have fun acting.”

“Have fun writing. Love you.”

She giggled as he kissed the phone.

“I love you, too.”

.

.

.

Since Gemma ran an online business and therefore wasn’t tied to a desk and a chair, she had decided to stay in London for a couple of days. Those couple of days had turned into two weeks and felt like two freaking months. Time slowed down when she was with Isaac; not that she complained.

She’d been with him constantly since they’d left Holmes Chapel. She wasn’t sure what they were. Friends? Way past that. Lovers? Not quite there. Friends who kissed? Well, sure, that might be a suitable label for their ‘relationship’. Gemma hated labels anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Have you spoken to him?” Isaac asked, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They were at his house, curled up in his bed, watching Netflix. Almost like a happy couple.

“Harry?” Her eyebrows furrowed as one of the characters was being brutally murdered on the screen. Isaac leaned forward and pressed pause right before the dead body collapsed.

Gemma gasped, “Hey!”

“You’ve already watched this,” he chuckled and removed the laptop from her lap before she could resume the movie.

“Still, that’s the best scene!”

He shook his head, placed the laptop on the other side of him and turned around, facing her. “Have you spoken to Asher?”

“No. He’s probably forgotten about me.”

“Gem…”

“Can we not mention my ex at this moment?”

“He’s not your ex yet, and you don’t want to mention him at any moment.” Isaac took her hand and brought it to his lap. “You need to break up with him.”

“He already broke up with me.”

“He said it was a break.”

She groaned and hugged a pillow to her chest. “He said it so he could hook up with whoever he wanted. He’s done this before, disappeared for a week or two. I was pretty sure he was hooking up with his secretary at the time, then he came back and acted like nothing was wrong. I just...I was stupid and I was in love with him. But not anymore. I’ve had enough.”

“So you’re just gonna wait until he reaches out to you, and then break up with him?”

“Yes. I want it to hurt.”

Isaac screwed up his face. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? After all that he’s done to me?”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” He tried to sound unbothered but she could see right through him. “Is that the reason why you’re so determined to make him feel equally bad?”

“No!” She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “I just don’t want him to think he’s so important. I’m not gonna reach out first. Now can we please get back to the movie?”

“Fine,” he huffed and brought the laptop back to his lap.

As she snuggled up to him and he draped his arm around her shoulders again, the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand interrupted them. She groaned when he withdrew himself from her.

“It could be Lee,” he said. Lee was his manager.

But it wasn’t Lee. She could see it on his face as he put down his phone as soon as he’d read the messages.

“Who’s that?”

“Your half-sister,” he said, drawing her back into his arms.

She lay her head on his chest, her eyebrows pulled together. “She’s still your model?”

“We had our last shoot yesterday. If you’d come, you could have met her.”

“It’s so weird that I haven’t.” She tilted her head up to look at his face. “Do you think she’s scared of me? Because I’m not as easy-going as Harry.”

“Probably.” A grin stretched his pink lips as she weakly hit his chest.

“Did you ever fancy her?” She arched an eyebrow so he mimicked her expression.

“Are you jealous of your own sister?”

“Half-sister.”

Her irritated tone got him laughing. “I mean, she is pretty.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gazing at the ceiling. “Maybe a little.”

Gemma poked his side and he jerked away, doubling over and protecting his sensitive spots from her tickling. They nearly fell off the bed from laughing too hard. Somehow he ended up on his stomach and she on his back, their cheeks together.

He whispered, “Do you think Harry would like the idea of us?”

“Should we call and ask him?”

“Gemma.”

She giggled as his face turned serious. “Of course. You’re his best friend, right?”

“I don’t know about that. He didn’t talk to me until Y/N and I broke up.”

“That’s because she’s Y/N. He didn’t let me come to the treehouse because it was ‘their place’.” She rolled her eyes. “But it was mine first. Dad built it for me.” When she caught him gazing at her, she returned a look just as bemused. “What?”

“You said ‘Dad’. Not Winton.”

“Oh.” She rolled onto her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Isaac flipped over to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand. She waited for another question, but he didn’t ask, so she went on, “I still won’t visit him or even talk to him. But I guess there was a time when he was good, and I should give the old him some credits. It’s easier to do that, now that I no longer have to deal with the consequences of him leaving.” She turned to smile at him. “Now that I’ve found someone who really cares about me.”

“Who’s that? Is it me?” He acted shocked and she shoved him away, cackling.

“Come on.” She sat up, grabbed the laptop and beckoned him over. “We still have to finish this terrible movie.”

.

.

.

A week later, Y/N came to Laura’s office after she’d finished two classes in the morning. Laura’s assistant told her Laura had taken a day off because she was sick. “She’s rescheduled the meeting with the publisher this afternoon,” said the assistant. “I was gonna call you but Ms Hilfgard said she’d tell you herself. She’s probably forgotten.”

Weird. Laura never forgot. She was like a machine when it came to business stuff, and Y/N had always wondered where that woman got all that energy. Laura must be very sick. Y/N normally would stay away from other people’s business, but she’d been inseparable from Laura recently, which gave her a sense of responsibility for her agent. She should probably check in on Laura.

“Is she at her flat today?” she asked the assistant, who seemed unsure.

“I think so. Would you like me to call her for you?”

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself.”

Y/N adjusted her bag on her shoulder, wished the woman a good day and ambled out of the room. She tried calling Laura when she got into the lift, but Laura didn’t answer the phone. A throb in her stomach led her to believe something was wrong.

Everyone got sick once in a while so Laura couldn’t be an exception; she was human after all. But Y/N’s gut feelings were always correct. And if she chose to ignore them, it’d be her fault when something actually happened to Laura, who lived all by herself and had no close friend or family, none that Y/N knew of.

“Laura! It’s me, Y/N!” Y/N banged on the door after she’d rung the doorbell many times and there was no answer. “Laura! Your assistant told me you were sick. I came to check on you.”

Just as she imagined herself kicking down the door like those badass heroines in movies, she heard the sound of it being unlocked, the handle turned, and the door was opened. Her chest caved when Laura appeared, holding the door just wide enough to reveal half of her face. She was in her bathrobe without any makeup on, her skin marked with freckles, her lips dry, her eyes dark and weary, and her hair wasn’t pulled up into a neat bun like it always was. She looked like she’d gone through hell and back.

“Are you all right?” Y/N asked and immediately realised how stupid she’d sounded; of course, Laura wasn’t all right. Look at her.

“I’m very sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have come here.” Laura sounded spacey. The smell of alcohol on her breath was too strong. She held Y/N’s gaze, expecting Y/N to leave, but once she was sure Y/N wasn’t going anywhere, Laura stepped aside and opened the door a bit wider, just enough for Y/N to slip in.

The door was closed. They were standing in the semidarkness; there was still a bit of light coming through the dark blue curtain of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The evident of Laura’s despair was lying on the white carpet in the middle of the room – empty bottles after a wild alcohol-binge. She wasn’t sick. She was drunk.

Laura brushed past a bewildered Y/N and careened toward the sofa. The sofa legs creaked ominously under her weight.

“As you can see, I’m pretty much alive,” she said to the ceiling, an arm placed over her eyes. “You may leave now.”

Y/N wanted to leave. Whatever Laura was dealing with had nothing to do with her. She’d only come to make sure her agent was still alive, and Laura was just drunk for some unknown reason, but that was all Y/N should know. She should leave. Her brain told her to leave, but her guts told her Laura needed help.

She huffed and came to stand at one end of the sofa. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Y/N.”

“You rescheduled a meeting with the publisher without asking me – your author, and then lied about being sick when you’ve been drinking your arse off. So yeah, it has a lot to do with me.”

As Laura didn’t answer, Y/N picked up the woman’s arm and tried to haul her out of the sofa. She resisted the effort, weakly pushing Y/N away.

“Fine. I’m leaving.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest. “Call me when you’ve sobered up.”

“I now see why he’s crazy about you.”

The words froze Y/N to the spot. She slowly turned around and backed away from the front door to return to her previous spot beside Laura. He? Who was he?

Laura’s eyelids fluttered like she was going to fall asleep, but then she continued, “He chose you over me because you’re young and beautiful and ambitious and kind…He chose you over me because...I’m the opposite…”

Y/N’s heart, head, and stomach pulsated at once. “Who...who are you talking about?”

“Blake.”

The name left her in shock. She blinked at Laura, feeling disoriented for a second. She hoped Laura was only messing with her. Laura and Blake? No fucking way.

“He ended it because of you,” Laura went on despite Y/N’s startlement. “We weren’t really together, but he made it clear that we’d never be anything.” She laughed loudly and mirthlessly, her thick dark hair bouncing on her slim shoulders. “You have a boyfriend, and he still chose you over me. I would call him stupid but what would it make me?” Then she glanced up, her glossy eyes filled with wondering and desperation.

Meanwhile, Y/N was stuck in rearranging her thoughts. Everything made sense – Blake had been their connection since the beginning, and Laura had heard so much about Y/N and Harry – but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe any of it. She clutched the strap of her handbag and took in the sight of Laura, trying to look for the badass woman hiding underneath.

“I think you should go,” Laura said to her feet and gestured toward the door. “I’ll call you once I’ve sobered up.”

“Do you have anyone else I can call–”

“I don’t need anyone, Y/N. Leave!”

“Okay,” Y/N murmured as she squared her shoulders, gripped the strap of her bag, and marched to the front door.

.

.

.

Thud Thud Thud

“Blake! We need to talk, Blake!”

Blake opened the door and sprang back before Y/N accidentally hit his face with her fist. “Did you sleep with Laura?” she bellowed before he could question, and he blinked as if she was speaking alien language.

“Laura Hilfgard,” her voice dropped, “My fucking agent. For fuck’s sake! Did you sleep with her?”

He still didn’t answer but the look on his face said it all. He couldn’t admit something so horrible.

“Goddamn it, Blake! Fuck!” she roared into her hands, her chest growing hot. When he tried to touch her, she pushed him away and stabbed a finger at his face. “You lied to me!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry–”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Oh, don’t fucking apologise to me. I’m not gonna accept it. Apologise to Laura.”

“We’re over.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter, Blake! It’s fucking sick that you slept with her so she would sign me! Fuck you!”

“Y/N!” He caught her wrist and she whipped around to fight him, but his fingers were quick to clasp her other wrist.

“Let me go!”

“Listen to me!” He shook her to get her to stop, and she did, panting and glowering at him. “I didn’t sleep with her so she’d sign you. Yes, I’d...I'd been sleeping with her before. That was how I knew her. I asked her to read your book and she loved it.”

“She only ‘loved’ it because she loved you, Blake!” Y/N yanked her hands back, tears welling up in her eyes. “You broke her and she cancelled the meeting with the publisher. She’s gonna drop me!”

“She won’t. I’ll talk to her–”

“I don’t fucking need your help, Blake. Just…” Y/N stepped back, holding up her hand to stop him from getting any closer. “Just don’t fucking talk to me again.”

“Y/N, please, hey.” He strode forward and got between her and her door, his desperate grey eyes begging her to hear him out. “I swear to you I didn’t do this on purpose. I just wanted to help. You were so desperate and I wanted you to be happy.”

“I was desperate but I wasn’t miserable,” she said through her gritted teeth. “You want me to be happy but what you did was awful, Blake. You made me feel like a talentless piece of shit, that if my boyfriend doesn’t get me a job, then my ex-boyfriend has to sleep with someone for it. God, what is wrong with you?”

“At least I gave your story to Laura and made her read it. Your boyfriend just fucking told John Conall to sign you. He doesn’t even care.”

“Don’t talk about Harry that way. He’s a thousand times better than you.” Then she froze. “How do you even know about Conall?”

“Laura knows him,” Blake said to his feet. “They talked.”

“Fuck this.”

She pulled out her keys and gestured him to get out of the way, but he refused to comply, shaking his head. She had never seen Blake Roman so despondent, and she didn’t like this side of him at all.

“I still love you, Y/N,” he said despite the fact that those were the last words she wanted to hear right now. “I’m sorry I left, but in the last three years, I couldn’t stop thinking about us, and how we could’ve figured out a way to be together instead of giving up. Then I met you here, and...and I–Listen, I’ve been trying to make it up to you–”

“Blake, please…” she breathed, her eyes tight.

“I know you still have feelings for me, Y/N. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have spent so much time with me. You rarely mentioned him when we were together. We have so much in common and we fit.”

“You’re wrong.” She stared dagger at him and unclenched her fists, taking a deep breath. “I rarely mentioned him because I didn’t want to hurt you. I knew you still had feelings for me. I guess I was wrong to want to keep you in my life as a friend when you don’t belong there anymore.”

“I do, Y/N. I do,” he fretted while she kept shaking her head.

“You don’t. You just...you just felt like childhood, which I can’t keep dwelling on anymore. Both of us need to grow up.” She inclined her head, arms wrapped around herself. “I’m sorry, Blake. I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Not after this.”

“Y/N.”

She didn’t look at him and rushed down the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t go after her. And he didn’t. She came dashing out of the building, her eyes prickling with tears. She couldn’t believe she’d doubted Harry and trusted Blake. She felt like such a fool. She hated herself.

Stopping on the side of the road, she fished her phone out of her handbag to call Harry. But then her screen flashed on with the notification of ‘11 missed calls from Laura H’. Her chest throbbed. She called Laura back.

Laura didn’t answer.

.

.

.

When Gemma stepped out of the lift, fumbling around in her bag for her room key, she almost didn’t notice the man waiting for her in the hallway.

“Gem.”

His voice froze her to the spot. She shot her head up, her heart rate increasing as Asher walked up to her holding a rose bouquet. He was dressed in a fine ocean-blue suit, his dark hair pushed back, the strong scent of his cologne so unbearable. He looked like he was here for a photoshoot or a red carpet event. When he cracked a smile, she responded with a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the flowers. The last time he’d got her flowers had been their first Valentine’s Day together; things had gone downhill after that.

“I came to see you,” he said. “To apologise.”

He held the flowers toward her with both hands, and she pushed them right back to him, shaking her head.

“I don’t need your apology,” she said. “You made it clear that day on the phone that this was over and I’m thankful for it.”

“I said ‘a break’.”

“You don’t get to call a break and come back whenever you feel like it,” Gemma said in annoyance. “That’s not how a relationship works.”

She gently pushed right past him to unlock the door. Right as she opened it, he slipped straight into her room. She stared at him, speechless. “Asher, leave.”

“I want to talk, please.”

Frustrated and annoyed, she slammed the door behind her, stormed toward the bed and flung her bag on it. He stood by the door with that stupid bouquet, waiting for his chance to speak.

“I can offer you a deal,” he blurted as she turned around. “You don’t have to get back with me. We can go separate ways after this.”

“Or we can go separate ways now.” She gestured to the door.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard that. “My father really likes you,” he said. “He thinks you keep me grounded. So I think...if you ask him for the investment, he’ll most likely say yes. I'll pay you. Please help me, Gem.”

“No!” Gemma put her hands on her hips, her mouth quirked in annoyance. “You’ve got some nerves to ask me that. We are not getting back together. Go find someone else dumb enough to help you.”

Asher’s mouth fell open. He must have come here thinking she would burst into tears and run into his arms the moment she saw him and forgive him like she always had. If so, he was destined for disappointment.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Why are you like this all of a sudden?”

“Why do I have common sense all of a sudden?” She cocked her head. “Maybe I’ve finally found someone who appreciates me, and is not only with me because he can use me for his own benefit.”

Asher was shallow but he wasn’t stupid. Realization soon dawned on his face. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Before he’d come here, she’d imagined this moment to be extremely awkward, but now she was full of rage. “You and I are not together anymore, Asher,” she snapped. “But well, I did kiss him once when we were ‘together’.”

“You fucking bitch,” Asher bellowed as he threw himself at her. Everything happened so quickly her brain failed to catch on. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, gripping the edge of the table, her head in pain. She spotted the horror on her ex’s face before he broke into a run out of the room, so she reached for her head and looked at her own fingers.

Blood.

He’d pushed her.

Shocked and dizzy, she held the table for support to stand up and hobbled into the bathroom where she grabbed a hand towel, wetted it and tried to clean the wound on her forehead. That was when she heard the door open and close. She spun around, horrified. It was just Isaac.

“What happened?!” He rushed toward her, held her face between his cold palms.

“Asher came here…” was all she could say while shaking her head, feeling herself going unsteady.

“Did he fucking hit you?” Isaac ground his jaw, his eyes turning dark.

She shuddered at the thought and felt hot tears in the wells of her eyes. “I think he pushed me,” she mumbled.

“Fuck!”

She fisted his shirt, afraid that he might run after Asher, who must have been long gone by now. But Isaac didn’t bother to ask about the arsehole. He inspected the wound on her forehead and encircled his arms around her. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

.

.

.

“Can I see her?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet,” the nurse answered.

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” the nurse told Y/N while scribbling something on the clipboard. She’d asked Y/N a bunch of questions about Laura, most of which Y/N had answered with “I don’t know”. She didn’t know if Laura was a regular drinker or if she often drank to drunkenness. Y/N only knew what she’d witnessed – Laura blacked out on her bedroom floor with empty bottles scattering all around.

Laura had been taken to the emergency room where they gave her fluids. The doctor had briefed Y/N, saying Laura had got alcohol poisoning from her alcohol binge, and if Y/N hadn’t found her – if she’d locked the door after Y/N had left – then something terrible could have happened tonight. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura would be okay, but things could have gone worse and she was grateful it hadn’t.

“Is there any family member that we could call?” asked the nurse, who was finally making eye contact with Y/N.

“I-I don’t know. I’m just her client,” Y/N said, rubbing her palms together nervously. “Maybe uhm...maybe I can call her assistant.”

“It’s fine. She’s in a better condition now. We’ll just get information from her when she wakes up.”

Y/N thanked the nurse and sat in one of the chairs in the hallway. She thought of calling Harry but didn’t have any motivation to do it, so she sat with her head against the wall, watching the nurses’ station while she waited for better news.

She didn’t know what time it was. She was already fatigued. She felt herself drifting away when a voice pulled her right back.

“Y/N?”

She looked up. Isaac and Gemma were just as shocked to see her. Gemma didn’t look like herself; she was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood on, covering her forehead. Y/N didn’t want to assume the hoodie was Isaac’s, but something told her it wasn’t Gemma’s.

“What...are you guys doing here?” Y/N slowly rose from her seat, her eyes switching back and forth between Isaac and Gemma. “Together.”

Isaac worked his jaw, unable to get any word out as he looked over at Gemma imploringly, and she heaved a sigh. Y/N was losing patience with the suspense when Gemma pulled back the hood to reveal her bandaged forehead.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Y/N gasped, pushing past Isaac to grab Gemma’s shoulders. “Did you get into an accident?”

“Y-Yeah.” Gemma looked unconfident, her eyes searching for Isaac’s again. Something was wrong, and neither of them wanted to tell Y/N what it was. She would have been mad if she didn’t have her own problems to worry about. What a crazy day it had been.

She was going to ask Isaac why he’d been the one to take Gemma to the hospital, but he went first. “Why are you here?”

“A friend of mine got into trouble,” she said. It was only fair that she got to be ambiguous too.

“Alice?” Gemma looked concerned.

“No.”

Isaac grimaced. “Eddie?”

“No!” Y/N rolled her eyes at their surprised reactions. “You guys really assume I have only two friends in London?”

“You do have only two friends in London,” Isaac said, beaming, “Besides us.”

Y/N assumed he meant him, Niall, and Harry. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t going to give him that.

For the second time, she meant to ask why he’d taken Gemma here, but right as she opened her mouth, a nurse showed up with a clipboard.

“Miss Styles," she called.

“Yes?” Gemma whipped around as the nurse sauntered right past her like she wasn’t there.

Confused and surprised, they all watched the nurse head toward the end of the hallway, where sat a brunette with her headphones on. Her hair was covering her face as she was looking down at her phone. The nurse had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. She glanced up, eyes popping out the moment she saw them. Y/N, Isaac, and Gemma looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“Emilia Styles,” repeated the nurse since Emilia wasn’t looking at her. “You can see your mother now.”

Y/N glanced over at Isaac and Gemma, who looked as if they’d seen a ghost. The nurse said something else to Emilia and went into one of the rooms. Emilia told the nurse she’d be right back as she shoved her headphones into her tote bag, got up and made way toward Y/N, Isaac and Gemma.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said with a pretentious smile; it was the same smile she always wore, but it was only until this moment that Y/N realized how pompous it was.

“Drop the act,” Y/N snapped. “Are you gonna fucking tell us why you’re here? Or should we go ask your mum who is still ALIVE?”

Isaac held her back by the arm before she could even consider doing something to Emilia. She didn’t want to get violent; she wasn’t that type of person. Not yet.

“Fine.” The fake smile disappeared as Emilia stood taller despite having been exposed. “My mum’s alive,” she calmly confessed. “She has cancer, and my dad doesn’t work anymore so I have to take care of them.”

“With Harry’s money?” Gemma snarled. Y/N believed if Gemma’s head wasn’t hurt, she would have already torn Emilia to pieces.

“I didn’t take anything Harry didn’t want to give.” Emilia crossed her arms and lifted her chin, which made Y/N more shocked than angry; she didn’t know it was possible to be this shameless.

“So everything was fake?” Y/N asked. “You made up a nice little story calling your mum crazy for burning down the house and–”

“It was my dad,” Emilia said with her eyes closed as she sucked in an unsteady breath and opened her eyes at the long exhalation. “He was drunk and he set the house on fire. That was after my mum had been diagnosed with cancer. He was very upset because we didn’t have enough money for the treatment. I had to drop out and use my college money for it.” Then she swallowed and looked over at Isaac, who’d been speechless the whole time. “I’m sorry, Isaac. But when we met I recognised you right away. I knew you were Harry’s friend, and I saw you as an opportunity. We had to lie because Harry didn’t trust us at first; he thought Dad was a terrible man–”

“No decent man would lie to his own son to steal his money!”

“We weren’t stealing!” Emilia half-shouted at Gemma then frantically looked around. A few nurses stared at them with concern but no one attempted to interfere. Emilia turned back to Gemma and lowered her voice, “We were gonna tell him everything.”

“When?” Y/N scoffed. “When your mum gets better? Or when you finally become a successful actress living off Harry’s fame?”

“I started with a lie and I had to go through it.” Emilia huffed, her forehead creased. “Things have got so much better since Harry came into our lives. He paid off our bank debt, for Dad’s medicines, for our food. We never asked him for more money. We simply sold the expensive stuff he bought for us as gifts to pay the hospital bills for Mum. I still have to go to work, but now I can also go to auditions. And Harry doesn’t lose anything. He loves Dad, and he’s rich anyway.”

“Harry worked for everything he owns now,” Gemma hissed. “Your dad doesn’t get to live on the money of the son he left and tried to steal from.”

Emilia’s lips quirked in a scornful manner. “You’re just bitter because Dad doesn’t love you.”

Y/N’s gaze jumped to Gemma, whose face was white with shock. She didn’t expect that. None of them expected that. It was so hurtful. Because it was the truth...

“It was my plan. Dad just went along with it,” Emilia went on despite Gemma’s fists shaking as she refrained herself from tackling Emilia to the floor. Emilia knew Y/N and Gemma couldn’t do anything to her in a hospital hallway, and Isaac would never lay hands on a woman. She considered Gemma’s face. “He just wanted my mum to get better. We knew Harry wouldn’t help us if he had to go behind yours and your mum’s back, so I had to reach out to you first. I had to gain your approval.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gemma sneered and waved her hand when Emilia gazed at her alarmedly. “Do go on. When will we get to the part where you’re forgivable?”

“Say anything you want, but I did it for a reason,” Emilia murmured, her eyes piercing at Gemma. “What are your reasons for cheating on your boyfriend and sleeping with your brother’s best friend?”

Gemma growled and launched herself at Emilia, who jumped right back as Isaac dragged Gemma away. A few nurses had gathered to watch them, unsure if it was necessary to call security. The four of them weren’t really fighting or being loud, but Y/N wasn’t sure how long they could maintain peace.

“Did I say something wrong?” Emilia looked at Isaac, whose eyes fastened on Y/N’s face at once.

“You two?” Y/N stared at him and Gemma in disbelief.

“Asher and I are over, Y/N,” Gemma said, reaching for Y/N’s hand. Y/N let her hold it, only because Y/N was too shocked to move.

“Does Harry know?” she asked quietly. Gemma and Isaac both shook their heads.

“Guess I’m not the only one who lied to Harry after all.”

Isaac shot Emilia a glare even though his features were incredibly calm. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“This isn’t a game of Truth or Dare,” she told him. “I’m not gonna blackmail you into doing something for me in return for my silence. I’m not a good person but I’m not that awful. I just wanted to help my mum. I don’t care what it takes.” Her voice suddenly dropped as she took a step further from them. “And I really liked you, Isaac. I’m sorry.”

Y/N could tell Isaac had a lot he wanted to say to Emilia, but he kept his lips tight because she wasn’t worth it. From the way Emilia was looking at him, she must regret lying to him the most. What about Harry? Harry didn’t deserve this. He’d been nothing but kind to her and Winton.

“Miss Y/L/N?” a nurse interjected. She was the one who’d spoken to Y/N about Laura. “Your friend is awake. Would you like to see her?” she told Y/N, who sighed in relief. At least this night didn’t go all the way down a pit of despair.

“I have to go,” she told Isaac and Gemma.

Isaac caught Y/N’s elbow before she could follow the nurse. “You’re not gonna tell Harry, are you?”

“I’m not gonna do the hard work for you three,” she said, giving all of them – even Emilia – a disappointed look. “You’re all going to tell him tomorrow. Not tonight. I don’t want his night to be ruined as well.” Then she fixed her eyes on Emilia, whose face was blank; either she hid her emotions really well, or she didn’t feel like any normal person would. Y/N stabbed a finger at Emilia, her voice rough, “You and your family better stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, or you’re gonna have to deal with his lawyer, and it won’t be pretty.”

The other nurses looked scared when Y/N caught them watching. She couldn’t even work up a smile as she mouthed the word “sorry” and marched right past them.