#i love thinking of their coping to each other being gone

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I am living for your dad jonmartin headcanons! If you have any about them when their daughters are teen/college age I'd love to hear them!

Oh my god, do I ever! I'm so glad you like them, I'm obsessed with the idea of them being dads and them being older and having their girls growing up is Beautiful

This one comes straight from @minky-for-short, Jon ends up having a Moment when Gertie cuts her long hair into a pixie cut. She looks beautiful, of course she does, but he audibly yelps when she surprises him with it and needs to take a second. Which of course then leads to further horror as he wonders '...oh god, am I turning into my grandmother???' He manages to hold it together and after Martin chuckles and tells him he handled that pretty well.

I feel like there are some arguments in their household as they all navigate having a teenaged daughter. Just because, while Gertie looks like Martin she acts so much like Jon, meaning she's stubborn and defensive and snarky. She and Jon clash sometimes over silly teenage things but they always make up quickly after a little cooling off time which Martin enforces. They always love each other, sometimes they just care about each other very very loudly, as Martin puts it.

When Gertie gets her first period and freaks out a little, Jon ends up being very helpful, having gone through that himself. He's so gentle with her, explaining everything so carefully and promising her it's going to be okay and he's there to take care of her. It's really the first time he's talked with Gertie about what it was like for him growing up in a body that didn't align with his gender and she feels like she understands him a lot more.

I headcanon their daughter Althea struggles with depression, the same way Martin did (how his Lonely affiliation manifested in this mundane au) and she hides it for a long time because she's terrified her dads will blame themselves and think they've done something wrong. Once they know about it, they are devastated but they do everything they can for her, Jon does so much research to ensure they're approaching this as well as they can. It's a long journey of course, a lot of days where all Althea can do is lie in her dads' bed between them with them both hanging on to her so tight while she cries and feels so, so afraid. But they help her find a therapy that works for her, they make sure she can get medication and try out all kinds of coping mechanisms with her, no matter how foolish Jon knows he looks attempting yoga.

Gertie gets a deep fondness for colourful make up, bright eyeshadow and fun nail polish and things, inspired by her Auntie Sasha. She will use Martin and Jon as her test subjects and sometimes just does eyeliner for Jon and black nail polish just because she knows he likes it. Martin's often got painted nails too to match the color scheme of whatever jumper he's got on that day

[fading4ngel]

AUGHHGH??? my brain is so fucking awful like why did i just imagine johnny in the temperance ending not long after taking over v's body laying in bed cradling his face.

just like,, curled up, hands on his own cheeks like he's holding v's face in them.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Pay to Play

The last thing I remember is a van pulling up to the sidewalk and two men grabbing me. I vaguely recall a syringe going into my arm and the pain of an injection but that’s all that I can remember of when I wake up. I’m in a dark room, tied to a chair, and gagged. There are several other girls in the room as well, all tied and gagged just like I am. The fear is palpable as we look between ourselves. Some are crying and most of us are squirming and struggling to no avail.

Suddenly, the door to the room we’re in swings open and several men walk in. No one says a word as the men go towards the girl closest to the door and pick her up, chair included. They leave with her, just as suddenly as they arrived, leaving the rest of us in stunned silence.

I feel tears well up in my eyes, the fear and confusion becoming too much for me to process. One of the girls screams behind her gag and another one joins her. A few more join in but no one beyond the door seems to notice and eventually, we all quiet again, each of us trying to cope in our own ways.

An unknown amount of time passes and suddenly the doors slam open again. The men return but there is no sign of the first girl. They head towards the second girl and grab her the same way, ignoring her wails from behind the gag and her desperate struggling against her bonds. They leave with her, just like before.

It becomes a pattern. The men come and take the next girl in line every so often and none of us know what to expect or how to stop it. Soon, I’m up next. It’s been so long since I woke up that I’ve stopped crying already. My arms are sore from being tied up and my legs are numb from sitting.

The doors slam open again and I’m carried away. I’m brought to a room surrounded by lights, the sudden brightness making me squint and blink. When my vision focuses again, I realize the men are gone and I’m alone. I’m surrounded by cameras, and there’s a large screen in front of me playing a live feed of the room, and I see myself. My hair is tangled, my eyes are red from crying, and I look terrified. What’s next to the footage is what makes my blood run cold. It’s a chat box, and I can see the comments coming in. Comments about how I look, about how excited viewers are for the “show,” and how much they think I’m worth. I realize in that moment that I’m being livestreamed and about to be sold off to the highest bidder.

A door opens and a man walks in. He’s wearing a mask that covers most of his face and he has on a microphone that I can only assume let’s him talk to the stream’s viewers.

“Welcome! Our next lovely girl is here with us now. You all know the rules, if you win the auction, you must transfer funds immediately and she will be prepared for shipment or pick-up, depending on your preference. Let’s begin.”

He walks toward me, and I whimper behind the gag, terrified of what’s to come. He pulls out a pair of scissors, and swiftly cuts away at my clothes, pulling them off my naked body and I’m crying now. I can see myself on the screen, my sobs making my body shake as I try my best to curl into myself.

The comments start to flood into the chat box now, people discussing my body, my tits, my pussy. I see bids start to come in too, and part of me is shocked to see the amount of money these people are throwing out.

The man comes back into my view and he’s holding a vibrator in his hand. I wail behind the gag, shaking my head and struggling uselessly in my bonds. He isn’t deterred and I watch as he clicks it on. I’m straining to close my legs but the ropes are too tight and chair too unyielding. He brings the vibrator between my legs and I wail when I feel it touch my clit. He doesn’t give me time to adjust, he presses the vibrating head directly onto my clit and holds it there, letting the vibrations batter me.

I scream behind the gag as I feel the sensation overwhelm me. At first, the fear dampened any pleasure but as the seconds dragged on and the vibrator stayed pressed up against my most delicate area, I could feel my body reacting. Waves of stimulation crash over me and I can feel the first inklings of an orgasm starting to build. The man keeps the horrible vibrator on my pulsing clit and my tears are now in response to the unbearable pleasure that I never wanted, and certainly not like this.

The vibrator pushes my body closer and closer to a wrecking orgasm, and I can’t do anything other than feel it happen. I arch my back and squirm as much as I can when the incomprehensible pleasure crescendos and I shatter. I can feel my pussy clenching around nothing and gushing out my release, my clit pulsing in time to my heartbeat, and my mind fading to a haze of pleasure and pain as the vibrator continues to ravage me.

“Orgasm in one minute and 37 seconds, and she’s a squirter,” the man announces matter-of-factly. “Let’s see how hard we can push her.”

I look up from tear-blurred eyes, seeing the comments flood in on the chat box on screen. I’ve always been sensitive post-orgasm and the fact that the man hasn’t pulled away the vibrator is pushing me into a painful overstimulation that’s making my stomach clench in fear. He reaches down with his free hand and maneuvering around the vibrator to pull back the soft skin that normally surrounds my clit, protecting it. My eyes widen and I let out a guttural scream behind the gag as the overwhelming, horrible vibrator now decimates my clit with nothing to soften the nerve-fraying stimulation.

I feel my eyes roll up into my head and my body is thrown into a second orgasm with no preparation. Just pure, unstoppable pleasure that burns every single nerve in my body. I can’t even breathe or scream or cry as my entire being is locked in a soul-shattering explosion that seems to go on forever.

I have no idea how much time passes or how many orgasms that terrible pleasure is able to tear from my body before the vibrator finally moves away. I’m shaking, crying, gasping for air and my clit is burning and twitching from the continued stimulation.

When I finally gather myself enough to open my eyes and see the on-screen chat box, I feel my heart stutter when I read some of the things people are saying.

“Fuck, she’s hot like that, I wonder if she’d survive a day strapped to a fucking machine.”

“I want to string her up and see how good of a whipping she could handle before she begs.”

“Her little clitty looks perfect for a piercing, and I could run electricity through it and really make her scream and cum.”

That last one makes me whimper and I pull my attention away from the screen, hoping that this nightmare is almost over.

“Now for a change of pace,” the man says from across the room. My eyes dart over to him and see that the men who’d brought me here are back again, rolling in a different chair, this one built like a gynecologist’s exam table with stirrups. I shake slightly in fear as they approach me and untie me before manhandling me into the exam chair. I’m too weak to even resist as they strap my body down, my feet going into the stirrups and my legs, arms, and body immobilized with straps.

The men leave and I look up at the livestream of myself, seeing how fear has made my eyes wide with gruesome anticipation. I can see clearly in the video, my clit looking so red and angry while my pussy still drips from the torment of pleasure they’d subjected me to moments before. I watch as the masked man approaches me, wheeling over a tray containing more horrible toys and devices.

He pulls a metal speculum off the tray and comes to stand before me. I’m shaking with terror, desperately trying to beg from behind the gag. He’s uncaring as he slides the device against my pussy, pushing the cold, hard metal inside of me. My back arches as my pussy fills and I whine, wishing that I didn’t find this violation pleasurable.

The man starts to crank the handle of the device, the motion forcing the speculum to open me up. I can’t help but moan, feeling an unbearable fullness start to build as the device pushes my pussy wide open. Eventually, he stops and takes a step back.

I watch through the livestream as he grabs a long, thin wand from the tray and comes back. I can feel my pussy pulsing around the speculum holding me open, and I know there’s nothing I can do to prevent whatever deranged thing he plans on doing next.

“Let’s see how she reacts to some internal stimulation.”

Without any other warning, the man slides the thin wand into me and presses a button that makes it start emitting a low pulsing vibration. He brushes against the walls of my pussy and I shake at the onslaught of pleasure. The speculum gives him easy, perfect access and the thin wand means he has every bit of precision at his disposal as he targets my most vulnerable places.

I choke on a gasp when he finds my g-spot and presses into it with heart-stopping accuracy. I feel my toes curl and my eyes roll to the back of my head as painful, unbearable pleasure overwhelms me. He turns up the wand to an unimaginable intensity and drives it into the tenderness of my pussy. I cum immediately. My pussy gushes and my juices flood out of me as the pleasure ravages my body with no mercy.

Just like with my clit, the man doesn’t let up. I’m locked in this impossible pleasure and overstimulation as my vision goes white and my body feels ripped to shreds by every orgasm that pours out of me.

When he finally stops, I don’t even feel human anymore. My mind is empty, there is absolutely nothing left other than the pure pleasure that laid waste to my entire being. I’m vaguely aware of the man announcing final call for bids but I’m too incoherent to really register what is going on around me. Suddenly, I feel a prick on my arm and slowly turn my head to watch a syringe pull out of my arm. My head spins and I feel sleep encroaching on my mind.

Just before my darkness overwhelms my vision and I sink into unconsciousness, I catch a glance of the screen and see how much money was spent on me. There’s a muted sense of astonishment. It’s more money than I could even fathom, more than I could make in a lifetime. And someone just spent it on me, in exchange for my complete ownership.

[crustyfloor]

I love how ALNST portrays the coexistence of hate and love in the main relationships, just like those "Hatred is easier than a vague word such as love" photocards. And grief these characters have to go through and how they handle it because this series focuses on how people live on after they experience loss, in their own ways each of these standees represent that grief and the intricacies of their complicated relationships. All of my ships are divorced

I hope the mixed feelings Mizi has for Sua are elaborated on more in the future. Mizi had been almost, if not entirely, dependent on Sua in their time together. Sua was there to fill the gap of loneliness Shine left Mizi with after she was sent to Anakt garden alone. Sua taught her a lot and helped her study. Sua protected Mizi from the world and kept them safe in their bubble. She was someone who Mizi looked up to like her god; her faith in Sua and the love she had for her was like a religion. Sua was always there for her, and Mizi was happy to blindly follow her. And she left Mizi exposed and vulnerable like an abandoned fawn when suddenly, all of that was gone, and Sua was dead.

It would be interesting if it's confirmed that Mizi resented Sua after. In round 5, Luka's relentless taunting caused her to lash out, but Mizi wasn't angry at Luka; that anger, that despair, was her pouring out her feelings toward Sua because of Sua's death. After being taunted with the familiar comfort of Sua's presence, with the fact, that some of the happiness in Sua's smile could have been fake while she was unaware.

The thing is, Mizi and Sua had been the closest to each other for so long, but Mizi had little to no insight into who Sua really was or what she was really thinking. Other than some brief instances where she would perceive Sua, she knew Sua was a little quiet, probably a little gloomy, but didn't second guess her at all, knowing Sua wasn't mean to her. And she trusted in the fact that Sua didn't have bad intentions. Mizi could've never guessed that this would be the result, could never catch onto that emotional distance Sua had intentionally kept between them. When Mizi comes to an understanding that Sua knew what would happen all along. that's where the hurt stems from. Sua's actions, leaving Mizi in the dark and not being truly open, are a part of her coping mechanism/way of protecting herself. Sua wanted to shield Mizi so desperately, to shield her own heart from the fear of living aimlessly and in constant anxiety, that she had been content to die like this, to leave Mizi in this kind of disarray, even when she knew to some degree and was sad that her death could possibly subject Mizi to this kind of suffering, to having come to terms with those complicated feelings and it did crush Mizi as it all went down.

Mizi had the resilience to get back up and keep moving forward without Sua. As much as Mizi adored her, as much as she is making amazing progress in liberating herself from that past, who knows if she's moved from that yet, if she's forgiven Sua yet, the hurt from having been lied to for all that time. The betrayal of that trust Mizi had naively placed onto Sua, as if Mizi never even knew her in the first place. In some artworks, Sua is so distant from Mizi, even though they're always the most intimate, there is a clear disconnect as if Sua is a figment of Mizi's imagination, stagnant in the only way Mizi knew her, and she never changes. And Mizi suffers from the fact that she can't embrace that memory of Sua the way she used to. The standee similarly portrays this; Sua is simply hovering over her and watching in an eerie, enigmatic way. Yet Sua's presence is a comfort Mizi can't let go of even when it hurts that it isn't the same as it used to be. Even when the innocence of their bond is tainted by the understanding Mizi has now, she can't reject her. Mizi is nothing if not completely devoted to Sua, even to the end.

my ivantilll... my curevantill

Ivan and Till's push-pull, hate-love dynamic has been apparent even in childhood, and this standee says a lot about that dynamic, especially regarding round 6 obv. From Till's perspective, Ivan confused him, provoked him a lot, and fought with him a lot, but Ivan was also someone he considered a friend. Someone in his life that he cared about because despite their fighting they also shared quiet moments, Ivan was there for Till when it mattered (for comfort, even), where Till would've otherwise been alone, Ivan was always with him, those were memories Till would cherish even if he didn't show how much he cared to Ivan directly.

His despair going into round 6 wasn't just because of Mizi's disappearance, he hadn't expected he and Ivan would be in a position where they'd have to compete, and faced with the decision of having to either compete to win against his last friend, after losing all will to live, or to forfeit his own life, once he couldn't keep going anymore and stopped singing, Till had the intent to give up. Only for Ivan to make the final decision for him and forfeit his own life in such a brutal way right in front of Till. Even though there is little said about his perspective at the time as of now, To me, it seems like Till wanted to make that choice, but Ivan effectively yanked Till out of his own head to be bombarded with the confusing mix of gentleness and violence as the full force of Ivan's complicated feelings were thrown at him, and then to face the reality that Ivan is dead and he is alone.

Till has been oppressed by the aliens all his life, and he's always fighting them for the right to his agency and freedom. Till's anger comes from Ivan's selfishness in that moment -(How could you do that and just leave me behind? kind of sentiment), the way Ivan took away Till's choice in the situation, the one time he ever willingly withheld Till's freedom was because of an impulsive action that Till can't begin to understand, everything happened too fast, Ivan had no idea what he was doing either and was erratic with it. With that, the questions and the feelings Ivan left him to figure out on his own afterwards were too much for Till to confront after having averted his attention from them for the longest time, that's why the weight of Ivan's feelings, the reality of it all outside of Till's head, metaphorically and quite literally weigh on Till to the point of breaking him.

Ivan's affections and lesser acknowledged feelings for Till clash and often contradict himself. His hold on Till in the standee is gentle and not at all, all at the same time. It's so fascinating to me how it can look like Ivan is trying to be comforting in a very (Ivan-typical) pushy or forceful/hostile manner because he wants to show he cares, however, he has never been the best at expressing himself, and Till is sensitive, but far more prone to avoidance or biting back in response to confronting the vulnerability of his own emotions. Because of this, they misunderstood each other's intentions a lot in the past, and Till doesn't know what went on in Ivan's head when he did what he did, but that confusion scares Till. The way they're positioned with Ivan gripping Till so he's forced to face him and Till being frightened by what he sees, too angry and too shocked to properly express himself, they're two forces pushing and pulling at each other (almost like they're fighting, in my opinion. It's also a show of their complicated dynamic because of their fundamental misunderstanding of each other) Even Ivan's lack of expression to Till's reaction to him is interesting to me. Sure enough, he supports Till while he's collapsing and pushing back, but staring down on him in an odd way (much like that frame from blink gone with his face, it's intimidating and observant), Ivan was unconvinced his actions would impact Till. And now, he doesn't register Till's feelings in the moment. He's under the impression that Till can just "move on" after that, as if forcing Till to live on in his stead would really not shake him, as if all that time they used to spend together realistically could've possibly meant nothing to Till. This standee is so symbolic and just as confusing as them, and Till's waist is mesmerizing (gets shot)

HyuLuka's standee shows their dynamic so well; HyunA is avoidant and not facing Luka. Instead, she faces forward and looks past Luka the same way she does with everything that holds her back. To keep moving forward, she tried suppressing her emotions, avoiding confronting her past. She wants to move on. However, she's standing still and has a hand on Luka's head to silently comfort him (not even gripping his head, just resting her hand there) because, despite all of those years, after being forced to live on in her grief and her suffering, HyunA has grown, but she hadn't truly "moved on" from her past with Hyunwoo or Luka, until she met Mizi. Even though HyunA didn't want to face her past and those repressed emotions before, when she started coming to terms, she couldn't help but reach out like it's instinct, like she did when they were kids. because she can't help but still love and care for him, her revenge, albeit intentionally cruel, is also an example of this.

This also shows another instance of Luka's dependence on her; Luka clings to HyunA like a child, much like he always does. He doesn't acknowledge that HyunA has changed or how his actions could've affected her in childhood. Because he's utterly devoted to her and desperate for the comfort of knowing they are "together" always. Through what little scraps he can get to remind himself of her existence, like with those posters, and so he never grows out of his childish indifference as long as he can continue depending on her

HyunA's revenge is one effective torture method for Luka, because it's reiterated time and time again that she knows who luka is, she knows about all of this and took that comfort away from him in the most brutal way, so Luka can't deny it, because the truth is right in front of him. It's a big question of whether Luka can ever symbolically leave that "bird cage" and learn to live on his own without continuing to use HyunA as his coping mechanism. Depending on what Luka does with those final words she left him with, he can come to an understanding and agree to move forward or continue obsessively clinging to the only comfort he's known for years, just like he is in this standee

I also find it interesting how HyunA's role is set up in depictions like this (and I find that Hyuluka frame from sweet dream to be similar in a way), with the clear leverage she has over Luka, who doesn't care about the danger because he loves her so much more than he cares about himself, (Just like the way he does register the gun pressed to his head in wiege, but still moves towards HyunA) but she never does "kill" him even though she has the knife over his head (or in more symbolic ways, give in to the hatred she wants to feel for him) and she doesn't abandon Luka. Even though she has the choice to do both, she doesn't because she loves him. She can't stand to look at him smile at her cruelty, so she just stares at him with that vacant look that appears sometimes, like in All-in when she's experiencing ptsd and she can't even move until Mizi starts shooting at the robot guards, so she just absently stays. It really speaks to HyunA's nature. She's endlessly compassionate. She doesn't want to stop loving as a human because she can't stop loving.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

inextricably bound - viktor, jayce

summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation

[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]

word count; 808

a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)

empty.

that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.

"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.

"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.

despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.

"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."

you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.

"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.

"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.

"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.

he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.

"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."

"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.

"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.

"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"

after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.

"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.

"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.

"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.

"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.

the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

for the better

a/n: this is part 2 to know your worth. i’m sorry this took a bit of time but i just wanted to get some requests done before fully getting into this buttt i hope y’all like it.

read part 1!

this one is for @dandelions4us specifically 🫵🏼🫵🏼

pairing: billie eilish x reader

warning: bold-italics are flashbacks. ex-toxic relationship, mention of therapy, toxic coping mechanisms, trauma.

summary: billie tumbles while you thrive. can you manage to find each other again through this all?

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock.

the dreadful noise of the second hand going on a full rotation was filling billie’s ears. she was overwhelmed and she didn’t want to be here.

“you mentioned last time that you had a partner…” the woman sat on a leather chair started. she was older and was graying, she wore glasses that were too small for her face. “a partner that you had let down.”

“yeah… i really fucked up there.” billie chuckled dryly. “i was horrible during the end of that relationship. it was amazing at first but after touring, i… i became horrible.”

“why do you think you became horrible?” the woman asked.

billie didn’t want to start therapy but her brother had convinced her to do it. she hated talking things out with a total stranger. but she knew she had to take a step towards getting better one way or another.

“i… i don’t know.” billie sighed in defeat.

“do you think it had something to do with your job?” the woman asked again. this was getting ridiculous. billie felt like the woman knew all the answers but was just trying to get billie to say them, she felt like she was back in school.

“maybe?” billie asked herself. “i think when i got back from touring, i realised how serious things were getting— not just with my relationship but with everything around me. i think i just wanted to be less serious? but i didn’t go about it very well. i royally fucked up. i should have been honest— i think things would have gone so much better.”

“it seems like you have a pretty good idea about what you need to work on.” the woman pointed out, impressed. “it was a lot better than our past sessions where you were lost. it seems like you’re starting to get a better grip on yourself.” she nodded in approval.

“i dunno, i think the break i took from working has been really good to me.” billie smiled a bit, she had decided to stop making music for the time being. it wasn’t forever but it was just to give her time to recover.

“do you want to get back together?” the therapist asked, tilting her head.

“yes. more than anything.” billie nodded. “i miss the love that i used to come home to everyday.”

“you could always call.” the therapist suggested.

“i don’t think i’d get an answer.” she huffed.

“you never know if you don’t try.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

that’s how billie ended up at a cafe with her leg shaking under the table, waiting for you.

she hasn’t seen you in months. she heard about you from her friends, she tried not to ask but sometimes it would slip out. your friends reluctantly answered out of pity.

you walked into the cafe. her jaw nearly dropped at the sight of you. a smile tugged at her lips. you had cut your hair and your fashion sense had changed, you cleaned up well.

your eyes scanned the room for billie, a small smile forming when you saw her. she looked almost the same, except she dyed her hair.

you were hesitant to come today, but you had done enough self-growth that you were confident enough to face her again.

you made a beeline for her table, sitting down across from her.

billie thought she knew what to say but she was mesmerised by you. you looked good and healthy, and even more beautiful than she anticipated. she wasn’t prepared to have her breath taken away by you.

“hey.” you said, settling down and flashing a smile at her.

“hi.” she responded, clearing her throat.

“um… hey.” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows. “it’s good to see you.”

“yeah, you look good.” she said as the waiter brought her order over. you ordered something for yourself as well while she was there.

the way your eyes twinkled when talking to someone else, that was never there before. you were always more introverted but suddenly it was like you had all the confidence in the world.

she fell in love with you all over again.

you turned back to look at her after ordering, crossing your legs one over the other. you smiled at the look on her face.

“you look surprised.” you pointed out.

“i mean… a little? you’ve changed… in a good way.” she said, sipping at her coffee. “you seem… um… more—“

“out there?” you completed her thought. “well, yes. i kind of put myself to the test. i finally used my savings to travel over the past few months. i kind of had to fend for myself— that involved putting myself out there.” you explained what you had been up to. “all those work hours finally did me good.”

“that’s… that’s really nice.” she said, staring at her coffee on the table. “where did you go?”

“german, greece, rome—“

“rome? you’ve always wanted to go.”

“mmhm. and i finally did. and i finished up my trip in london. i saw some of our friends that we made when i visited you on tour.” you said, scooting over to make room for the waitress putting your order down.

“that’s good, i know they would have been glad to see you.”

you let silence fall over the table for a second as you took a bite of the biscuit at the side of your plate.

“why’d you call?” you asked, cutting to the chase. you thought that there was no point in the small talk when there was clearly something looming over billie.

“oh!” she didn’t expect you to ask so quickly.

“sorry, it just seems like there’s something you’re wanting to say.”

“yeah… i’m uh, i’m in therapy.” she said, leaning back in her seat. “and i just… we’ve been working on how i can explain myself to you. i feel like you deserve that.”

“i would be lying if i said i wasn’t curious, billie. about our relationship ending…” you said, sighing. “feels like i never got closure.”

“that’s fair! and i guess that’s what i wanted to give you.” she said. “i don’t know why i did what i did exactly, because i could have handled it so much better.”

you nodded in anticipation.

“i felt old.” billie sighed out.

you almost let out a laugh but instead let out a stifled chuckle.

“old?”

“old… yeah, it sounds so silly.”

“billie, you’re not even 25.” you scoffed a little bit in disbelief.

“i know! which is why it’s silly.” she said, a little bit defeated. “it was all too much for me when tour ended. i realised how much i had missed with everyone back home. everyone was going to parties and i was stuck working in the studio all the time. i think our relationship took the brunt of it, it was all getting so serious so i took it out on you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “serious?”

“yeah… i used to think our relationship getting more serious and committed meant i had to settle down and grow up. i wasn’t ready for that. but i realised i was wrong. our relationship was my safe place to land, coming home to you was the best part of my day.”

“i didn’t realise you felt that way. i wish you told me.” you huffed a little, crossing your arms. “i would have helped you… whatever it took.”

“i know, and that’s why i regret it so much.”

“i kept replaying that fight in my head when it was all so fresh… i just felt like i was fighting with a stranger.” you felt your heart ache upon reliving those memories. “i had some hope that maybe you’d come to your senses that day, that maybe me saying something would be enough for you.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t. i was so stupid—“

“the worst part is that i never fell out of love with you for a second.” you confessed.

“what?” she asked, making sure she heard you right.

“i tried. i tried to hate you… believe me, i did. but i couldn’t.” you shook your head, finishing your coffee off.

“could we ever try again?” billie popped the question. she didn’t know what answer to expect from you. sure, you still loved her, but could you put yourself in that position again?

“i don’t know.” you said, truthfully. “it’s taking everything in me not to say yes, but i don’t know if i can do that to myself again. i think i’ve come too far.”

“then let me catch up to you.”

there she was. your billie.

you couldn’t hold back a laugh when you heard her say that.

“oh, billie. it’s good to have you back. it’s for the better.” you sighed through the smile that was plastered on your face. “well, how about this then?”

you took her phone that was sitting down on the table. she had reached out through a mutual friend but you didn’t have any other contact information.

“i’ll give you my number.”

thump. thump. thump

billie could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

“i’ll give you my number.” you said. billie had just met you that night but she was captivated by you.

you had gotten a job working tech at her release party. she saw you backstage and couldn’t take her eyes off you for a second. the way you tried to make sure that everything was perfect for her.

you were a face in the background and yet you were at the forefront of her mind the entire night.

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.”

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.” you giggled, teasing her a little bit. you found it amusing that one of the biggest figures in the world was chasing after you after the show.

she was panting a little bit, she definitely ran after you. her hands were on her knees for just a second while she introduced herself, trying to catch her breath.

you were on your way to your car, your bag already on your shoulder. she couldn’t let you leave without shooting her shot.

you handed her phone back to her.

you handed her phone back to her. she took it back in her hand and immediately pressed dial, you were still in front of her.

she pressed dial.

you rolled your eyes and picked up the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?” she said with a cheeky smile on her face.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

a/n: heyyy y’all i hope the switching between flashbacks & current time wasn’t too confusing. but i hope u enjoyed part 2 <33 much love mwah mwah

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a white stone. l Joel Miller

Summary: it was a hard time for you

Warnings: angst, lots of tears, lots of grief, tw: miscarriage, loss of a child, mourning, unwise decisions, one infected, depressing thoughts, risky behavior, Ellie is there, trying to deal with grief, and finally some hope

A/N: I'll be honest, your reaction to the previous chapter really touched me. my heart was breaking while writing this, but I wanted it to be there. I promise they'll be happy. I'm not a monster after all. but I was moved when I saw your comments and when I could interact with you, it was really nice. thank you for being here and reading.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Joel, I'm so sorry for your loss... You didn't deserve this." Ann's soft voice reached his ears. Her eyes were shining with tears, Joel knew that you had grown very close. "I wish I could help you, I would like to talk to her, but I don't think it would be good, considering…my condition."

His gaze followed her hand, which lightly touched her rounded belly clearly visible under her dress.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." he replied, his voice a bit hoarse, but he tried to sound nice. He flinched when Ann touched his arm.

“If you need anything, tell me. Shane and I will do whatever it takes.” She pulled a small package out of her bag and handed it to him. “I made her these cookies. She really liked them last time. Can you give them to her?”

Joel nodded and took the gift from her. Ann didn't hold him back any longer and quickly left, he knew she had shed a few tears. Maria looked similar when she came to him in the morning. She offered to help him with the laundry. Tommy must have told her about the blood stains Joel had found, she had wanted you to avoid stumbling upon them again when you got home.

He didn't have the strength to get involved in the discussion and let her take everything she thought she needed to wash.

Ellie was much quieter too. She made sure you came back from the clinic that evening and promised to tidy up the house, make you tea or something. She wanted to be useful.

It was already dark when you and Joel set off home together, in silence. Just like a few weeks earlier, when you had gone in with your heart in your sleeve to find out you were pregnant, at this point you had both returned broken, not knowing how to cope with the loss. Dr. Morris had told you to rest, so your hiding in the bedroom was understandable. But the days passed and nothing changed.

"She needs time." he explained to Ellie and wanted to add "Like all of us." but he stopped himself.

But then something strange happened. He could clearly hear the creaking of the door, quiet footsteps upstairs. It was Ellie who would sneak into your bedroom, spending hours there sometimes.

"Sometimes we talk, sometimes we're silent." she said when Joel asked her about it one evening. "You know, she blames herself for all of this... She doesn't say it." she added, seeing Joel's worried look. "But I can see it in her eyes."

Your eyes. That was the saddest thing about all of this. Joel had the impression that life had disappeared from them. You have become a body. Still warm, still with a beating heart, but empty inside. He didn't know what to do about it.

"Remember... You once told me that it's not time that heals wounds, it's people. Can't you help her with that? I mean... You love each other, right? I know you're suffering too, but somehow you're coping."

Joel was barely coping with it, really. He did what he could - worked at the stables, helped with renovations, came home to see you were still there. Tommy would sometimes try to talk to him, but he was avoiding it more and more.

"I'm sorry, Joel." Your quiet voice made him look up from the book he was reading in bed and look at you. You came out of the bathroom, your hair still wet, your shirt sticking to your damp body.

"What are you apologizing for, darling?" he asked anxiously.

You folded your arms nervously across your chest, your eyes glazed over. He wanted to get up and take you in his arms, but you looked like a scared animal and he knew he couldn't do that.

"I'm sorry I let you down." you finally choked out, a voice filled with tears "I think this is my punishment, you know. I was so afraid to accept the idea of ​​pregnancy, I was so afraid of all this... What if this child felt it? What if it was because of this?"

"Don't say that." he interrupted you, getting out of bed and taking a few steps towards you "We were both terrified. I know you're in pain, but..."

"You don't know how I feel!" you sobbed "You have no idea!"

He gulped looking at you with pain "I think I know..."

Then it hit you. Joel really knew what you felt, and he had lived with this pain for much longer. Tears flowed down your cheeks and you covered your mouth with your hand to stop the loud sob that escaped your throat.

"And I gave you this pain again..." you choked out, feeling your throat burning.

Warm hands grabbed your face, Joel directed it towards himself. The brown eyes that stared at you were so gentle, so good that you wanted to drown in their depths.

"I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me, but I don't know the words to describe it. You gave me more than I deserved, baby. And I know you're hurting now, I can't promise you it'll be easy, but you're not alone in this. You have me, Ellie, Tommy and Maria, you have Ann and Shane and..."

He didn't finish, because you pulled away and snuggled into his chest, hugging him with all your might. Tears soaked his shirt, but for a moment he hoped he saw the seed of life in your eyes.

Quick footsteps echoed through the stables and Joel glanced over his shoulder to see Shane approaching him. The man nodded in greeting.

"Look, I don't know if this is a good idea, but if she thinks she can handle it..." he began, Joel quickly interrupted.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, putting down the brush.

"You don't know anything?" Shane raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "It's a good thing I came to you first." Your name left his lips. "She came to me with the idea of ​​going back to patrolling. The doctor said there were no health issues, but..."

"You can't be serious." Joel mumbled. "Yeah, the doctor said she was fine, but... Jesus, I didn't know. Has she been to Tommy about this yet?"

Shane shrugged. "Listen, I respect you Joel. I know you're both having a hard time right now, this loss..." Joel looked down and Shane didn't pursue the matter, but he finished his thought. "I don't know if it's wise for her to go on patrol. Maybe in a few weeks. Sure, I can go with her, I'll keep an eye on her, but still..."

Joel cleared his throat, his brow furrowed. "Thank you for telling me. I'll talk to her."

Shane nodded. They were both silent for a moment, until he finally said the words that had been going through Joel's head. "She wouldn't do anything risky, would she?"

Joel wasn't sure about that. You took it one day at a time. The sun rose and set, and you both tried to find your way around your activities. He could feel you tensing under his touch, but he still hoped it was temporary, that you were still trying to cope with all of this. But going back to patrols? That was something new, and he didn't like it very much.

"I don't know what you mean." you replied when he brought it up after returning home. "I've done it before. Morris said I could go back to my duties."

"And I'm sure you told him everything, right?" Joel sneered, resting his hand on the chair. "About how little you sleep. About how little you eat. Because I know you, and I know that you try to hide what's uncomfortable for you, what hurts you and..."

"Thank you for the psychoanalysis!" you hissed. "You do the exact same thing. You're out for hours, doing God knows what."

"Because you don't want to talk to me! I'm trying to get closer to you, but you've put up barricades." he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts. “Listen, I won’t stop you. But I want you to know that I don’t think it’s a good idea. I love you, I care about you. If there was some way I could…”

“I’m going on patrol with Shane tomorrow.” You interrupted. “Thank you for your concern, but this is what I want.”

He nodded. There was nothing more he could do.

Was it unwise of you? Maybe. But you wanted to believe that going outside the walls of Jackson would make you feel different. You needed it. The space, the forest, the horizon in front of you. The four walls of the house, Jackson - it was driving you crazy. 

Your thoughts kept circling in similar areas. Joel's touch, once so tender, now irritated you. His watchful gaze was glued to you, but you knew perfectly well that he was looking for an opportunity to break free, to leave the house, to be alone.

You didn't blame him. You guessed that he felt hurt too, maybe even disappointed. He had given you such support at first, but after the loss you weren't sure if he still wanted it. Yes, he had talked about it, but you had a feeling that he was forcing himself to do all this.

Shane stopped and looked around carefully. This was your another joint patrol since you came back and you found yourself in a new region. His behavior tore you away from your thoughts for a moment.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, looking where he was.

"I'm not sure." he mumbled. "Maybe it's a rabbit or some other animal." he glanced at you over his shoulder. "You good?"

"Yeah, we can move on." you replied and you slowly moved forward.

Shane didn't bring up any sensitive topics. He respected your silence, and when you asked a question, he answered, happy that he could occupy your thoughts with something else. You found a rocky ledge that seemed perfect for camping and resting.

"Ann packed something for you." Shane smiled, handing you a small bundle. "I swear, she probably wants to fatten you up."

"I don't mind. I love her baked goods." you replied, sniffing a piece of apple pie with cinnamon.

You ate in silence, listening to the sounds of the forest, inhaling the fresh and clean scent. You offered to wash the dishes in the stream below and slowly went down. The water was pleasantly cool, washing over the mossy stones and washing the remains of food from the plates and cups.

You remembered the river where you first saw Ellie. It was much bigger. But then you met Joel too, your paths connected. Now you were by the river again, and you hadn't been this far from each other for a long time.

"Hey! Hey!" Shane's call tore you from your thoughts, "Watch out, on the right!"

Something was moving quickly in the ferns, panting and hissing. You stood up abruptly and put your hand on the butt of the gun at your side. You stared in that direction. Shane was calling something, but you barely heard him. 

An infected one crawled out of the undergrowth. It looked awful, like it had been here for a long time and nature was slowly trying to take it over. It crawled toward you, sensing its prey, and you...

You couldn't move. You felt the gun under your hand, you knew what you should do, but you just stared at him as if hypnotized. Teeth that could easily bite your throat, tear you apart, kill you and free you from everything that...

A loud gunshot made you jump. Shane was next to you and fired a second shot to make sure. He looked at you with fear and anger.

"That's what I was afraid of!" he growled, "I felt you would do something like that... Jesus!"

"I could handle it." You replied, but he shook his head. He took a few steps trying to gather his thoughts, and then looked at you.

"You and Joel are my friends, we've been through a lot together, but... I can't stand to watch what you're doing to each other," he said, his eyes genuinely concerned. "Listen, I know you're hurting. You've had a lot of bad things happen to you in your life, you didn't deserve them. I also know you're strong, tough, good. And Joel's heart is in the right place, you know. He loves you. He'd give his life for you if you asked him to. And you'd do the same..." he took a few steps towards you and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. "I won't tell him what happened here. But you need to talk to him. You need to find a way back to each other. Don't let this fucking world take the best of you away."

You saw him on the porch with his guitar, quietly strumming the strings. The setting sun was falling on his face, making his skin seem almost golden. Damn, you had always thought he was handsome, but in that moment you realized it again. A heavy stone fell into your stomach as you thought of the hell you had created for yourselves.

He lifted his head at the sound of your quiet footsteps.

"Joel..." you began quietly.

He put the guitar down and stood up. "I want to show you something," he said. You nodded.

You let him grab your hand and lead you to the back of the house, then a little further to the trees growing on the outskirts. The trees cast long shadows and the sounds of Jackson slowly faded away. You didn't see where Joel was leading you, it was only when you stopped that you noticed.

Under the spreading oak tree you saw a white stone, it was smooth and surrounded by smaller stones like the ones you saw in the stream. Your eyes found some grooves on the surface. Letters or numbers. You let go of Joel's hand and walked closer. The numbers formed a date, and just above it you saw a small carved cross.

You understood.

“When Sarah left, it was like I died while I was alive.” Joel’s voice was quiet and calm, reaching you over the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. “I don’t remember much of that time. A black hole. I don’t want you to end up there too, baby, and I can see you’re headed straight for its embrace… I thought if you had a place you could come to when the days were really hard, it might help.”

You turned and looked at Joel, the man you loved, who had done more for you than anyone else. Your eyes stung from the tears that were pressing under your eyelids, you were still surprised that you were still able to cry.

"Did you do it yourself?" you asked. He nodded.

"I thought it might be easier for you... I wish I could take this pain away from you, but I know I can't. But you're not alone... We're in this together, remember?"

He didn't think your little nod would give him such relief. He felt like he could go to you, take you in his arms, hug you and try to soothe this pain. And Joel did it. You hid in his arms, in the mix of sobs he heard your pleas for forgiveness, promises that this time it would be different, that you would be together again.

"I love you so much, baby." he whispered, touching your lips with his, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[isenkus]

ex! izuku, one mention of the war. pro hero! y/n, who was also in the war. weird plot, but i had a dream about this with my ex. i need to cope and take my meds.

thinking of accidentally reuniting with your ex izuku midoriya, in one of the most common ways possible: both of you being invited to an arcade for a huge event.

it’s one of your mutual friend’s birthday, with the invite being a 'simple' arcade party. though, nothing about it is simple—you and your friends have the wallet of a pro hero, which meant a whole arcade building was rented for the night, with each one of the games filled with colorful costumes in case of an emergency.

and as soon as you stepped towards a big, down the clown machine, your heard someone clear their throat.

it was none other than izuku midoriya.

how long had you practiced no contact? was it four months? to you it felt like years, but you know what they say. when love truly blooms, times goes by in a flash. did this apply here? you didn't know, but you respectfully greeted him with a smile.

a forced one at that. things with midoriya went downhill after a year of dating, and if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t bear to see him. he smiled as he greeted you in return.

“it’s been a while, y/n, how have you been? you wanna play down the clown together?”

it had been exactly four months since the breakup, and yet your given name rolled off his tongue so naturally. chuckling, you reached for your arcade card inside your wallet. “sure, midoriya. though i think we’ve beaten bigger clowns than this one.”

ouch. izuku visibly winced at the mention of his surname. for a brief moment, his mind replayed the events of the war, and how he held you in his arms as tears slipped his eyes. a near death experience is sure to bring people closer, yet in this case, it felt like a riff that would lead you two apart.

you giggled as you swiped the card and watched as the colorful plastic balls fell towards you and him. you each picked one and started throwing them at the nine clowns standing before you. laughs and glances were exchanged, with a few victory cries as all clowns were down and gone, the machine spewing out tickets in return.

izuku cheered as he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist. as he pulled back, his hand rested on your waist still, “do you wanna play some more?”

and a part of you wanted to say no. his innocence is far too much for you, constantly reminding you of what led to the end of what was the relationship of the century. even tabloids were confused as to what happened. the happiest couples are always the ones with more trouble in paradise.

yet, you nodded. his fingers intertwined themselves with yours as he drove you towards another game in the arcade. your heart pounded from pure confusion, your mind going back a year as you remembered…

him. this was the izuku midoriya you knew. the carefree, loving izuku midoriya who looked out for you always, and the one who loved you wholly.

as he and you neared a fishing pond, he and you grabbed the magnetic fishing rods. it was terrible, your attempts at catching the plastic fish failing miserably. izuku was always touching you in some way, whether it was his hand on your shoulder or the small of your back when you turned towards him with a pout, or his hand cupping your cheek when you finally got a fish.

“you never answered my question, y/n” he started, his expression completely serious. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been amazing, actually” you replied, arms crossing as you continued. “my agency’s teamed up with bakugo’s for some missions, and we’ve grown quite a lot!”

“i’m so happy for you!” izuku smiles, his hand on your shoulder, slowly dragging down towards your forearm.

well, it’s not or never, right?

“so, uhm, midoriya… are you seeing anyone right now?”

his eyes widened as his lips curled into a smile.

“yes, i am! her name’s—“

it was then when your brain stopped processing the words that escaped his mouth. unable to hear the name, you sighed in relief, as it was izuku's mixed signals that got you and him into a rough patch way back. it was a sign that there is no way to go around izuku midoriya without looking like a complete fool.

“that’s so great, midoriya! i’m so happy for you” you laughed awkwardly, “i knew you’d find someone good for you.”

and to be honest, it was during this moment that you were grateful his special person wasn’t you.

[your-local-granny]

okay before i forget. i've been trying to put my finger on why people saying phoenix and maya are 'sibling-coded' pisses me off so much and I think a big part of it is how important mia is to both their introduction and also the foundation of their relationship and how calling phoenix and maya 'siblings/sibling-coded' waters down all of their relationships

phoenix wishing that maya was mia is a very big part of maya's arc as well as a big sticking point in phoenix and maya's relationship. phoenix spends the majority of turnabout sisters wishing that 'the chief' was there and when maya fails to channel her he shows outward disappointment. this is something that maya obviously picks up on and internalizes as we see throughout the rest of the games. most notably maya shows remarkably little self-preservation, throwing herself at von Karma's taser and in contempt of court to help edgeworth (and by extent, phoenix). she openly admits to feeling useless when she can't channel mia and phoenix never refutes this out loud until he of course presents the bullet to her showing that she wasn't useless. phoenix is notably bad at expressing his thoughts/ and feelings so its honestly debatable whether this gets through to maya but thats neither here nor there

on the other side of it, maya wishes that phoenix would be the caring adult figure that she was missing for most of her life (and especially after mia dies) and phoenix does not do a great job of being that figure. he likes her sure, and they're good friends, but he's definitely not nurturing or sensitive whenever maya is in distress. at the end of turnabout sisters when mia tells maya to "take care of phoenix" for her, maya starts calling him nick (because that's what mia said phoenix's friend calls him) and their dynamic for the most part is solidified. maya is not able to find mia in phoenix and accepts him as his own person and a part of her life as a friend.

phoenix has a more complicated journey with viewing maya as her own person partially because of the whole spirit-channeling thing, and partially because maya is younger than both the chief and himself. phoenix is constantly looking to a mentor for guidance and feels out of his depth for most of the cases in the trilogy. he frequently wishes that mia could be there, and is shown to value maya's ideas less, or at the least question them more at face-value. nevertheless, by the second game phoenix relies on maya greatly as shown with how he copes (or fails to cope) with her absence in rfta and 2-4, and 3-5. phoenix views her as both an integral part of his life and support structure, but also views her as someone he has to put on a brave face for, much like pearls. maya is phoenix's young friend that he leans on and wishes to protect.

maya's love for her sister is a core theme that spans the entire trilogy and culminates in maya almost dying in 3-5. phoenix's love for mia is a constant driving force that pushes him past what he believed himself capable of, and encourages him to trust those who become those closest to him. phoenix and maya's relationship is colored by their own relationships to mia, and how they view each others relationship with mia. they both represent a part of her that they never knew as well as a part of her they can keep loving in her place after she is gone, but most importantly, neither of them will ever be mia. no one else can be maya's big sister and no one else can be phoenix's mentor. they meet each other as two strangers set adrift by the same lost mooring, and though they'll never be secure in the way they were before meeting each other, they have a friend to help keep themselves afloat.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 10 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

9 months later. . .

“Look who finally made it,” Liam teases when he opens his door.

I scoff playfully and hug him after being ushered into the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d be here earlier, but traffic was a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I know.” He waves me off and runs a hand down his dress shirt, smoothing it out. “But I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

I nod and accept the spare key he hands me while slipping into his dress shoes. “Have fun!” I tease when he shrugs on his jacket.

“It’s a business dinner, not a date, Y/N.” He deadpans which makes me laugh and slap his shoulder before he leaves with a final wave and smile.

It’s the end of September and I’m visiting New York for a couple of days since I have some time off before the hockey season begins again.

I’m here to visit Liam— obviously, since I’m staying with him— but also Tara and Sam, who agreed it would be better if I stayed with Liam since they’re apartment is fairly small and their roommate, Quinn, doesn’t know me.

Since Christmas, we’ve only seen each other once, three months ago, at one of my hockey games which Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad came to see after they all collectively moved to New York.

I was happy to see them again, and glad we were once again living in the same time zone, but there was an underlying tension the whole time we hung out because things between Sam and I haven’t been the same ever since Christmas.

While Tara and I are in contact almost daily, Sam and I barely even talk once a week. It’s not for her lack of trying though, it’s because I’ve distanced myself ever since I realized it was hopeless to think the two of us could ever be a thing.

I gave up on her, doing exactly what Tara told me not to do, and I even tried to move on, but that didn’t work out as planned.

I went on a couple of dates here and there, and hooked up with several people, but I just can’t get over Sam even though nowadays we’re barely even friends.

The only reason we could still be considered friends is because of our backstory and because Tara connects us. Other than that, we’re back to the way things were when Sam first returned to Woodsboro, and being like this hurts even more than when she was simply gone.

Those five years were undoubtedly the most painful years of my life, but now everything is so much worse. I thought I’d gotten Sam back, I thought we could finally be something, but all of that hope shattered as soon as she said she’d never do long distance. She also never acknowledged how Richie exposed my feelings for her, which makes it abundantly clear that she’d rather just forget about it and move on as friends.

I know she doesn’t owe me anything and she’s been trying to stay in contact as best as she can, but I’m just too hurt to let her back in and accept her as just a friend.

I know how stupid that sounds and it’s not my intention to hurt her by keeping my distance, but it’s just how I cope with everything.

With a sigh I enter Liam’s apartment properly and let out an impressed whistle when I realize just how big and luxurious it actually is. When he sent me his address and I saw that it was on the upper west side, I was surprised because living here is usually reserved for the rich and famous, but he explained that his company owns the building and rents its apartments to their employees for a reasonable price.

That doesn’t make it any less luxurious though, and when I take a look in the bathroom and see a rain shower with a view of the twinkling city outside I make a mental note to use it as soon as possible.

Right now, I’m hungry though, so I raid Liam’s fridge, helping myself to a smoothie and some leftover chocolate cake that he has for some reason.

The dinner he’s at right now wasn’t planned, it was a last minute thing his boss organized, but I’m not complaining. Yes, we were supposed to do something together tonight, but I’ll just check and see if Sam and Tara are free instead.

We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow for lunch, but I don’t see why I can’t stop by their place tonight, too.

I pull out my phone and call Tara after gulping down some of my smoothie. She doesn’t answer, so I reluctantly call Sam next.

Tara’s probably in the shower or something. . . God knows she loves to take long ass showers. When she lived with me my water bill almost doubled.

Sam picks up after two rings which is not surprising since I can’t remember the last time I called her instead of the other way around.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” Her concerned voice makes my stomach twist and I hate how she thinks something’s wrong because I’m calling her instead of Tara.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. Just got into the city and was wondering if I could stop by your place for some dinner since Liam was called into work,” I say.

The sound of traffic on Sam’s end of the line makes me realize she’s not home and I think calling might have been a mistake, but she immediately agrees. “Of course. I’ll text you the address again. I’m not home yet because I just got out of therapy, but Tara and Quinn should be home.“

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence, but Sam is quick to break it by saying, “Alright then. See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.” I hang up and exhale slowly.

It’s just Sam, Y/N. Pull yourself together. You’re going to go see Tara and Sam, and their roommate, not just Sam.

The two of us haven’t been alone since Christmas eve and I’m not planning on changing that anytime soon.

I finish the piece of cake and throw away the empty smoothie bottle before grabbing a zip up hoodie from my bag and heading out of the apartment.

Sam and Tara’s apartment is quite far away, and because I’m not in the mood to call an Uber or take the subway, I take one of the public e scooters standing around, unlocking it with my phone before heading off.

It’s nice getting some fresh air after being cooped up in my car for hours and not even fifteen minutes later I’m in front of the building Sam sent me the address of.

I get off the scooter and park it around the corner, making my way inside the building after getting buzzed in by some random person.

Compared to Liam’s building, this place is a dump, but it seems relatively safe and affordable, so who am I to judge. This is New York after all.

I head up the stairs and knock on the door of Sam and Tara’s apartment, my heart rate picking up with each second that passes until the door finally opens.

Having expected Sam or Tara, I’m surprised when a stranger greets me. It’s a red haired girl, around Tara’s age, with a round face and gray eyes. She’s dressed in only a robe and I momentarily avert my eyes when she reties it around her waist.

“Hi, you must be Quinn,” I say, raising my hand in greeting.

Quinn’s eyes rake over me and she smirks before her eyes snap back up to mine. “Yeah, and you’re Y/N, right?”

I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her hungry gaze. “The one and only,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Quinn’s face softens ever so slightly and her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “So I heard. . . You’re here to see Sam and Tara?” she guesses and when I nod again, she opens the door properly and invites me inside.

“Sam should be here any minute, but Tara is out,” she says.

I frown. “She’s out? Sam said she’d be here.”

Quinn smiles apologetically and goes to say something but then a man’s voice from a nearby room calls for her. “Babe? You coming back or what?”

My eyes widen and I feel heat rushing into my cheeks. That’s why she’s only wearing a robe. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. . . interrupt you and your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Quinn laughs as if the idea is ridiculous and waves me off. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just hooking up.” She eyes me once again with that lustful look in her eyes and bites her lip seductively, squeezing my biceps. “You could join us if you want. The more the merrier, am I right?”

I squirm and pull my arm out of her grasp with an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

God, what’s up with her?

I want to ask about Tara’s whereabouts again when the door behind us opens.

My eyes instantly lock with Sam’s and even though I’m nervous to see her again, I’m also relieved she’s here to distract Quinn from making a move on me again.

“Y/N. . .” She hugs me after a moment’s hesitation before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up on the hook next to the door. “I see you’ve already met Quinn.”

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and avoid looking at the aforementioned roommate. “Mhmm.”

Quinn, having absolutely no shame whatsoever, touches my arm again. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was such a snack, Sam?”

Oh lord. . .

My face heats up again, but Sam is quick to come to my rescue. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow before stepping in between Quinn and me which forces the redhead to let go of me.

“Right. I forgot you don’t like to share.” Quinn laughs, unbothered and turns to head into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that. I know she can be a bit much sometimes.” Sam glances at me over her shoulder, and I wave her off nervously.

“It’s okay.“

She turns as soon as Quinn is out of sight and I hold my breath at how close she is.

She looks as beautiful as ever even though she looks tired and I curse my heart for flipping in my chest when she picks a piece of lint off my shoulder.

The white off-shoulder top she’s wearing over her tank top looks incredible on her and I have to force myself not to look at her exposed neck and collar bones too much, a task that is incredibly hard because she’s wearing the necklace I gave her for Christmas.

It glints in the low light and even though the knowledge that she still wears it makes my insides melt, it also serves as a reminder why I’ve been keeping my distance.

Don’t get hurt again, Y/N.

I swallow thickly and lean back a little, not missing the way confusion and hurt flashes across Sam’s face before she clears her throat and steps back.

She looks anywhere but at me before asking Quinn, “Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn, who was just about to open a bottle of wine in the kitchen turns with a sheepish smile. “Uh, don’t be mad. . .”

I frown and follow Sam into the kitchen.

“Why would I be mad?” Sam asks and the way Quinn winces slightly at her tone makes my lips twitch with amusement.

“Because you get mad,” she says and I can’t help but agree silently.

Sam does have a temper, however I’m not sure why she’d be mad when Quinn tells her where Tara is as long as she’s not alone.

“Babe?” The guy from what I’m assuming is Quinn’s bedroom calls for her again which makes Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the question of Tara’s whereabouts momentarily forgotten.

“Is that Paul?” she asks and Quinn cringes when the guy shouts, “Who the fuck is Paul?”

“Life, I have found,” she says quietly with an innocent shrug, “is all about variety.”

This time I can’t help but smile properly, and Sam chuckles softly, too.

“So, uh, where’s Tara?” she asks after a moment which makes Quinn sigh helplessly, the wine on the counter forgotten as she toys with the bottle opener in her hands.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party.”

Huh. I didn’t think Tara’d be one to enjoy frat parties but I guess she’s young and wants to try everything now that she’s in a new city and in college.

Sam doesn’t seem to agree though and it’s clear why Quinn was scared of her getting mad when she exclaims, “What? I begged her not to go to that!”

I want to tell her that it’s just a party, but she seems to haver her reasons why she doesn’t want Tara there, so I stay quiet.

Quinn sighs again. “And we’ve now arrived at mad. . .”

I try my best not to smile— Quinn’s actually pretty funny now that she’s not trying to sleep with me— and focus on Sam instead.

She seems ready to explode, but gathers herself by taking a deep breath and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she deflates and when she asks, “Do you know if she at least took her taser?” she sounds more worried than mad.

A taser?

Quinn grabs the wine off the counter and pushes the cork screw into the cork before twisting it and opening the bottle. “I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” she says hesitantly which makes Sam huff in frustration and brush past me back to the front door where she grabs a taser from a dresser.

I follow her, knowing she’s going to go back out to look for Tara, and Quinn follows me with the now open bottle of wine in hand, ready to return to her not-boyfriend.

Sam eyes the taser for a moment, her jaw working and I move around her to grab her jacket off the hook for her.

Right as I reach for it though, Quinn says something that makes me freeze. “Oohh. Is cute boy shirtless again?”

My head snaps around so fast, it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap, and my eyes instantly land on what, or rather who, Quinn and Sam are looking at through the window. There’s a shirtless guy, seemingly my age or a couple years older in the apartment right across from us.

I have to admit, he is cute with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular upper body, and I even smile when Quinn’s not-boyfriend asks, “Who’s cute boy, babe?” and Quinn cringes, replying, “Always you. . . sweetie.” But that smile is quickly wiped off my face when I see the way Sam is looking at him.

Her eyes are soft and there’s something like longing written all over her face which feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.

This is why I keep my distance. . . She’s not mine and if she likes this cute boy, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m just hurt and I’m once again reminded to keep my heart guarded.

But then Sam’s eyes snap to me and her face instantly falls and something like guilt flickers across her eyes, but I don’t dwell on it and avert my own eyes, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with Liam’s key in the pocket of my hoodie.

“You guys have been checking each other out for months, why don’t you just talk to him?” Quinn asks softly, and once again, it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Sam turns away from the window and I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “Because. . .” Her voice falters ever so slightly before going on. “That right there is all the romantic interaction I’m ready for.”

Once again a reminder that she’s not over Richie, and definitely not into me. . .

Out of the corner of my eye I see Quinn shrug and when Sam says, “I’m going to find Tara, you coming with me, Y/N?” I nod wordlessly without meeting her eye, and follow her out of the apartment after returning Quinn’s awkward wave.

I’m doing exactly what I planned on avoiding, which is being alone with Sam, but my worry for her going out alone outweighs my need to keep my distance, so I silently follow her down the stairs and outside where she pulls out her phone to look up the directions to the frat house.

I forgot you don’t like to share. . .

Quinn’s words suddenly echo through my mind and I frown because Sam and I obviously aren’t a thing, but before I can dwell on it too long, Sam nudges me and starts walking. “Come on, let’s go. The frat house isn’t too far from here, so we can walk.”

I wordlessly fall into step beside her, intent on not talking about what just happened, but she seems to have other plans because after we cross the street she turns to me with furrowed eyebrows and says, “You know, Danny and I aren’t a thing or anything. . .”

“What?” I know she probably means cute boy, but I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I thought they only knew each other because they live across from each other, but it seems as though they know each other better than that. Also, the fact that Sam is trying to deny that something is going on between them makes me believe there actually is something going.

Which is fine. . . Totally fine. She’s an adult and she can make her own choices.

“Y-you know,” she stutters. “The guy, Cute Boy, he and I, we’re not a thing. Not really— I mean we’re just—“

I stop dead in my tracks and raise a hand which makes her shut up and stop walking as well. “Why are you telling me this?”

She seems taken aback by the harshness of my tone and frowns, so I sigh and add, “I mean, I don’t tell you anything about my love life, so why are you telling me about yours?”

Sam’s frown deepens. “I just— I thought you should know— I mean. . . You’re my best friend.”

I scoff and before I can stop myself I say, “Am I though?”

“What?”

“Your best friend?” I clarify, ignoring how crushed she looks at the implication of my words. “We’ve barely spoken in nine months.”

“And whose fault is that?” she snaps back defensively. She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with a challenging glare.

I know she’s not actually mad, she’s just hurt and she’s put up her guard, so I deflate a little.

She’s right, it’s my fault we haven’t really talked since Christmas, but I’m not about to spill the beans and tell her why.

“Look,” I say softly. “Let’s not get into this now.”

“Why not?” she asks harshly. “Because you can’t just hang up if it gets too much?”

I cringe at that because lately every time she calls and asks what’s wrong I usually come up with an excuse to hang up or ignore her texts.

I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just find Tara okay, we can get into this tomorrow.”

Sam bites the inside of her cheek and the storm of emotions in her eyes makes me believe she’s about to disagree, but then she huffs and turns around to continue leading our way to the frat house.

Long story short, at the party, Sam ends up tasing a guy who tried to drag Tara upstairs in the balls which in turn leads to Tara storming out with the rest of us— Mindy, her girlfriend Anika, Chad, Chad’s roommate Ethan, Sam, and me— hot on her heels.

“Tara, will you stop?” Sam says, sounding irritated as Tara continues to dash ahead. She’s short and has asthma, so she’s not going all too fast, but still. . .

She has yet to realize I’m also here, but I don’t want to get in the middle of what’s about to go down between her and Sam, so I stay back with the others, the twins having greeted me with quick hugs a moment ago before officially introducing me to Anika and Ethan.

“I cannot believe you did that! You embarrassed me!” Tara shouts over her shoulder.

“That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you,” Sam argues and even though she’s right, that guy was really sleazy, she didn’t actually have to tase him. Also it looked like Chad had it covered, but I’m not about to get in the middle of this.

“So?” Tara stops abruptly and turns on her heels to face Sam.

The rest of us come to a halt a safe distance away, but I raise my eyebrows at what Tara just said.

“So?” Sam echoes incredulously, voicing my exact thoughts, but Tara is not having it.

“If I want to hook up with an asshole that’s my decision!” she shouts and even though she’s right, it is her decision, I don’t like the way she’s talking to Sam like she did something wrong by trying to protect her.

Sam tenses and I know what Tara just said hit a nerve, but she stays calm and simply nods dismissively. “Okay. . .”

Tara doesn’t seem to be done just yet though because she goes on, “I mean, you’re out of my life for five years and then you can’t leave me alone for five minutes.”

Yikes. She’s right, but. . . yikes.

“Because you’re not dealing with what happened to us,” Sam shoots back, her voice relatively calm. “Have you even gone to see the counselor once?”

“No, I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

I sigh and share at look with Chad and Mindy who seem to be hating this just as much as me, if not even more because it sounds like this isn’t the first time the two sisters have been at each other’s throats.

Anika and Ethan just look uncomfortable and if it weren’t for the fight I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look, what with Ethan wearing Anika’s pumpkin hat and Anika wearing Ethan’s ridiculous cardboard helmet that matches his handcrafted chest plate.

“Hey, guys, come on,” Chad tries to step in at one point when Tara accuses Sam of living in the past, but he’s straight up ignored and I shoot him a pitiful look when our eyes meet.

They continue bickering, and even though I agree with Tara that we shouldn’t let something that happened to us for three days define the rest of our lives, I don’t like how she puts Sam on the spot in front of everyone by asking why she’s in New York with the rest of them.

After what feels like hours, they finally stop which is when, out of nowhere, a girl walking by yells, “Murderer!” and throws her drink at Sam.

Sam recoils and chaos erupts. There’s shouting and cursing, and a bunch of accusations thrown at Sam about God knows what, and I’m barely fast enough to rush forward and wrap my arms around her stomach from behind to prevent her from lunging at the girl who threw her drink at her.

Everything is over in a blur and before we know it the grill and her friends have left and the people who stopped and stood around to watch are moving on as though nothing happened.

I let go of Sam as soon as I’m sure she won’t do anything reckless again and step back, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Chad is also holding back Tara.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, but no one answers and Sam even looks away as though she’s ashamed of something.

“Let’s just go.” Tara sighs and turns to leave, grabbing Anika’s and Chad’s arm.

Mindy frowns but agrees and is quick to follow them, leaving Ethan behind with me and Sam, who is currently trying to wring out her shirt.

“Hey, I. . . I have tissues if you want tissues,” Ethan offers kindly, pulling some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Sam.

She wordlessly takes them and Ethan awkwardly looks between the two of us for a moment, obviously not knowing what else to do before hurrying after the others.

What an odd kid.

Sam dabs at her neck and hair where most of the drink hit her and she’s about to brush past me to follow the others as well, but I step in front of her and gently touch her forearm.

“Wait.”

Defeated brown eyes find mine, and the way she deflates when looking at me breaks my heart.

I have no idea what that girl and her friends meant when they called her a murderer and when they said she “knows what she did”, but now’s not the time to ask about it.

I take the used tissues from Sam and momentarily stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans so I have my hands free to unzip and take off my hoodie.

“Here, take this.” I hold it out to Sam, who simply eyes it with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and put this on. I know how you hate it when clothes stick to you.” I wiggled the hoodie a little and raise an eyebrow until she sighs and takes it.

When we were kids I found out how she hates wearing wet clothes after pushing her into our pool after school once.

She wasn’t mad at first because it was summer and we both really needed to cool off, but then she got out of the water and her mood immediately turned sour.

She never explained why, but I knew it was because of her clothes clinging to her, so I never pushed her into the water again unless she was wearing a bikini or swimsuit.

“Thank you.” Sam’s small voice brings me back to reality and when I look up again I see she’s already changed into my hoodie. Her shirt is clutched between her fingers to the point where her knuckles are turning white, but I don’t comment on it.

She’s humiliated, sad, angry, and embarrassed, so all I say is, “You’re welcome,” before gesturing for her to lead the way and follow the others.

She lowers her chin in silent thanks again and starts walking, and I follow her after quickly darting over to one of the nearby trash cans and disposing of the tissues.

What a night. . . Maybe I should have stayed at Liam’s and watched some TV.

_______________________________________________

We’re in New York, people! And Ghostface is right around the corner. . .

Poor Sam, getting a drink thrown on her, but the way she clapped back at reader on their way to the party? Damn. . .

And Tara hasn’t even acknowledged reader yet hahah but it’s okay, they’ll talk in the next part.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

 I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years.

To be honest, she had me borderline obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching places and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history.

Sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” 

When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked. That we still fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. 

Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor, and I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf.

 But then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I joke, bending down.

Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking.

You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Where did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave.

He’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get him back.

 This man—the love of my life. 

There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bones it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. 

“Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it’s there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. 

I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour interrupted when my mom speaks.

 “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone

How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence

 It wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her hair behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through us all, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. 

Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Disassociating.

The word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost.

 All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandelier, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day.

What a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bound to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. 

By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earthquake, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply.

They appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. 

Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I could check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remarks, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog, I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filtering out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch.

 I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to not look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own.

Maybe I’m speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise.

 We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulders to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lips and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor.

 I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once-perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob.

 “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mournful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. 

She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. 

I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb on my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[jina-juhi]

Feels like

you can love again.

Pairing : Johnny × fem!reader

Rating : 18+

warning: smut with plot, protected sex, i tried fluff? fluffy sex? and heart break. and basically all things sex. oh alcoholism. cute sex? plus doggy style plus face sitting:) oral m/f

word count : 4.5k

summary : I could fuck you, right here, right now, but only if you'd ask.

[if you wanna skip to the smut part just go straight down]

Playlist

all too well, Taylor Swift

you heard me, Heather Sommer

1 step forward, 3 steps back, Olivia rodrigo

graveyard, halsey

right where you left me, taylor swift

wouldn't come back, Trousdale

ghost of you, Selena Gomez

company, Justin Bieber

yours, Raiden

crushing, illenium

begin again, Taylor Swift

feels like, Gracie Abraham

link

When all is said and done, and the person you loved is no longer there, what's left to do? How do you cope when you've given your all, only to find yourself empty, a mere shell of your former self? It's like being left with nothing but bones and muscles, a broken machine barely keeping you going.

So, how do you restart? How do you function when they've taken everything and left you with nothing? How do you shift your mindset to believe that this is all for the better? And most daunting of all, how do you open your heart to love again?

It feels like trying to breathe without air, as if the very essence of life has deserted you, leaving behind a jagged landscape of shattered pieces. It's dangerous to get too close to those sharp edges, so you stand alone and don't let anyone close. Trying to find yourself again.

Stand alone and contemplate what you've gotten yourself into and what you've done to yourself. How could you have ignored the warning signs? They were crystal clear. How could you have not predicted it? Too innocent.

Too gullible to let him in.

Thinking about it now feels pointless. "He was a nice guy, but he was too caught up in himself. He never really saw me. He claimed he did, but I never felt truly understood," you confide while he brews your coffee.

"I never felt loved by him," you add, as he sets the mugs on the counter—one for each of you. It's a chilly evening, and the cafe where he works is quieter than usual. You're a regular here; it feels like a safe haven, a place where you can find comfort in familiarity. You accept your coffee in silence, opting not to say more.

"Take a deep breath," he urges, his voice gentle as he nods, trying to seem strong and supportive. "How?" you reply absentmindedly, staring out the window where the fog thickens by the second. The ache in your heart grows, and despair overwhelms you as you fall back into the familiar trap of negative thoughts.

"He wasn't giving you what you needed. You shouldn't have to beg for love. Believe me when I say it's for the best that he's gone." He says.

"I loved him."

"You did, Maybe you still do, but people change," he interjects gently, his gaze fixed on the coffee between you, his words carefully chosen. "In different ways. You may have promised forever, but forever is a long time. Sometimes you grow together, and sometimes... you grow apart. It's nobody's fault in the end. You just drift away, lose that connection, maybe take each other for granted, and before you know it, the fights start."

His voice falters slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. "I know it might not make sense right now, but what I'm trying to say is... you deserved more than what he could give you. Trust me, you're better off without him."

You inhale deeply, shaking your head in resignation. Raindrops cascade down the window, distorting the glow of the city lights outside. His words echo in your mind, and as you take another sip of coffee, its comforting aroma envelops you. Yes, he's right. You're undeniably better off without him, yet the ache lingers.

Why does it still hurt, months after the breakup? Why does the pain persist, stubbornly refusing to fade away? Days blur into months, but the heartache remains a constant companion. People change, move on. But the pain always stays. It gets a little better each day. You learn to accept. You learn to love yourself. Yet, just when you think you've moved on, something triggers that familiar ache, dragging you back to square one.

But life doesn't pause for heartache. Despite the pain, the world keeps spinning, and you move forward, one step forward and three steps back, hating, crying, wanting, but never stopping.

~~~

A year and almost a half have passed since then. Things have been getting better. The clouds are clearing up, leaving behind a little less hurt and a lot more clarity. There's a sense of hold, of something stirring within—gratefulness, perhaps, or hope. Or maybe its the sound of a familiar ring at the door. You turn around to see a familiar face, a smile lighting up your face as you recognize Johnny.

"A latte, please," you say as he approaches, his presence bringing a comforting warmth to the room. Johnny nods, his gentle demeanor never faltering as he starts to brew your coffee. Johnny's a gentleman, and a law student. He works part-time in this cafe, not because he's broke or anything. He simply lives the high life. Gym first, then college, and then in the cafe followed by late nights of studying. He's a quiet guy who keeps to himself. Disciplined and courteous. Doesn't really like to waste his time on the things undeserving of his attention.

Your friendship with Johnny began in this very place. You remember it must have been around 10 o'clock at night, you had just split up with your ex. It was a stormy night, It felt like the world was collapsing around you and someone was sucking the breath out of your lungs, alone and broken, you found this cafe nearby. The rain was pouring nonstop, so you decide to take refuge, sitting in the corner, your tears flow with the raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

Jhonny brings you a cup of coffee and a napkin with words of reassurance, "It'll be okay, just hold on."

He saw you when you felt invisible to the world, and he understood you when no one else could. In Johnny, you found not just a friend, but a shimmer of light in your darkest moments.

You still have that note.

Jhonny could hardly fathom the possibility of falling in love, especially with someone as uniquely eccentric as you. Little did he know, his heart had already been quietly captivated by your presence over the passing months. As you walked through that door, disheveled and drenched from the rain, the only word that echoed in his mind was "beautiful." From that moment on, an unspoken longing stirred within him, urging him to reach out and connect with you. He extended that napkin, not just to offer solace, but as a gesture of his desire to understand you, to unravel the mysteries you hide behind those smiles. There was an enigmatic force pulling him toward you, compelling him to take that first step.

You became a regular at the café, grateful for Johnny's caring nature. It seemed like nobody else noticed you like he did. Unintentionally, Johnny had fallen deeply in love with you over the past few months. He paid attention to everything about you - your likes, dislikes, comfort songs, and movies you could watch a 100 times.

He became your confidance, your best friend, always there when you needed him. Watching you cry over someone unworthy filled him with the desire to show you wat true love actually is. Late at night, he found himself thinking about you, wondering if you were okay, if you had eaten, or if you were thinking of him. He felt your sadness as if it were his own and rejoiced in your happiness. But despite his feelings, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love.

Simply put, Johnny wanted you. He wanted to show you what true love was, and that no girl deserved to be treated the way you were, left alone in the middle of nowhere, weeping in the pouring rain. Hearing about your past hurt him, but it also revealed your strength and resilience, which only made him love you more. He wasn't drawn to the roses and smiles you showed the world; he was captivated by the scars and bruises you tried to hide.

The more Johnny got to know you, the deeper he fell.

However, he made a conscious decision to hold back because he didn't want to become a rebound love. Instead, he wished for you to heal from the wounds of your past relationship, to move forward and see him for who he truly was, not just as a replacement for what your ex lacked.

He longed for the day when you would accept him completely, with no remains of the past clouding your judgment. So, he waited patiently, hoping for your heart to mend. Hoping for you to let go. Hoping for you to see him.

Time passed away, six months turned into a year, yet you still struggled to let go completely. Though it was getting better, the ghost of your past still lingered, haunting your thoughts and emotions.

How could you not feel shattered? Johnny was just too good for you, too kind. But when you've been hurt before, love becomes terrifying. Trying to piece things together while pretending to be okay is exhausting. It's hard to focus on anything when you're struggling to keep it together. Knowing you love someone and they love you back, yet being unable to fully embrace it because you're afraid of losing them, of getting hurt again - it's paralyzing.

And then there's the guilt. Even though your past relationship ended a year ago, the promises made still weigh heavily on your conscience. How do you reconcile having Johnny in your thoughts while someone else occupies a part of your heart? It feels unfair to him, but you can't shake the feeling.

How are you supposed to let go and move forward when your heart is still stuck in the past? People say "move on" like it's easy, it's anything but easy. It feels like an impossible task, especially when nobody seems to understand what you're going through.

Except for him. Johnny. He understands.

It's so damn difficult," you thought to yourself, feeling the weight of your emotions. Letting go seemed like the simplest solution, but in reality, it was anything but easy. As Johnny led you towards his flat, the thought lingered at the back of your mind.

He mentioned the party he was hosting with his friends at him appartment, someone got a job or something. The atmosphere inside was luxurious, yet simple. with crimson sofas exuding a regal aura in the soft golden light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and the sound of champagne being poured, it was cozy.

The gathering was intimate, with only the chosen few invited. Amidst the fancy party, all you could think about was Johnny. You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you'd fallen for him too, about the guilt that shouldn't be feeling. Johnny was the best guy you'd ever met, and you couldn't just let him go because you were scared. Even though your past hasn't been great, you didn't want to hurt him because you knew he loved you too. Since the day you met, he's been there for you. And he still is, always there in every little thing. It feels like you're stuck in between, torn between your feelings for him and the uncertainty.

As Johnny left momentarily, you found yourself walking towards the balcony, away from the small talk and pretense inside, with a bottle of champagne. all you needed was a stunning view of the city's glittering skyscrapers, illuminated by the twinkling lights.

You craved peace of mind, a moment to quiet the storm raging within you. Being around Johnny, even for just an hour, had a profound effect on you, all the thoughts and insecurities on one side, and all the feelings of desire and lust, unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

There was no rush of blood and getting all hot and bothered every time your prior partner looked at you. You would never have felt this shy and nervous in his presence. Yes, there was attraction, but nothing like this, but with Johnny, it is the exact opposite. His mere presence left you weak-kneed and breathless, yearning to surrender to the intoxicating pull between you. He awakens you. He makes you want to succumb to him, give into him.

Yes, you yearn to experience the warmth of love, to be cherished and valued in return. And perhaps, deep down, you crave these feelings from Johnny, who has shown himself to be both kind and breathtakingly amazing. The way he gazes at you speaks volumes about his feelings for you.

It's confusing, isn't it? Frightening even. Because all you've ever known about Love is that it breaks and burns and ends, yet here you are, falling for Johnny despite your fears. It's a terrifying feeling, but there's something about it that makes you want to continue. Makes you want to keep dreaming. But you're afraid to confess your feelings, terrified that you'll only end up hurting Johnny in the process. It's hard to find the words, to admit to yourself, let alone to him, that you're falling for him. But despite the uncertainty and the fear, there's an urge within you, a desire to reach out and claim him for your own. All you want is to grab his face, to feel his lips against yours, and to lose yourself in the sweetness of his embrace.

Hard.

And never let him go. You've been thinking about it, about you. And him. And since, you've been moving on, you've been trying to forget and forgive and embrace and accept. You have come to a conclusion that amidst all the chaos, Johnny was the only one there. And that you have hopelessly fallen in love with him.

~~~

Hey," he says, joining you on the balcony, "you're standing alone?"

"Hey jj," you reply, meeting his gaze.

"You call me 'jj' when you're happy," he remarks, puzzled because your tone isn't cheerful.

"I guess I'm happy, sort of. It's been a while, but it feels good," you admit, looking at him standing beside you. He smiles, his eyes filled with happiness. He's genuinely pleased for you.

"That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

"Nope, I'm having a pretty good time," you say, pulling the glass away from him. He noticed a whole bottle nearby on the floor. "I think you've had enough for the night, darling."

darling.

Even in the dim light, Johnny couldn't miss the blush spreading across your cheeks. He's skilled at noticing your reactions and knows how to tease you.

Trying to steer the conversation away from any awkwardness, you say, "So I was thinking..."

"About?" he interjects playfully, trying to provoke a response.

"Everything that's happened, you know, with my ex, and then with you," you begin, but he interrupts.

"Oh, nothing happened between us, as far as I can remember... unless..." he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarify.

"Okay, okay, just kidding. But I kinda wish you did mean it," he mutters under his breath, a smirk forming on his face.

You feel your thoughts becoming fuzzy as you both dance around the topic. Usually, your brain would shut down any such ideas, but tonight feels different. Instead of being repelled, you feel drawn to him, wanting something you've suppressed for so long.

Despite trying to hold back, you find yourself unable to think of anything else.

As the alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening your desires, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to ask him what has been in your mind for quite a long time, and so you ask "If I were to ask for a kiss, would you kiss me? Right here, right now?"

The intensity in his gaze heightens, his pupils dilating as his demeanor shifts, becoming more serious. "Ask me," he demands, his jaw clenched with anticipation. His eyes linger on your lips before locking onto yours, a silent plea echoing within them.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you turn away, feeling a rush of emotions flooding your senses. With a deep breath, you struggle to compose yourself, but before you can respond, he chuckles softly. "I knew you didn't have the nerve," he remarks, his tone teasing yet tinged with disappointment. Meeting his gaze once more, you're taken aback by his confidence. As he straightens himself and takes a sip of his drink, his words hang heavily in the air. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for you," he confesses, his voice low and filled with longing, "but if you were to ask me to fuck you right here, right now, I wouldn't even think once." With that declaration, practically deadpanned on your face, he goes inside the flat, leaving you to grapple with your miserable self.

~~~

The night after that seemed to stretch endlessly, a void you couldn't escape. Frustration and regret gnawed at your mind, You turned to more alcohol, a fleeting attempt to numb the pain within, but it only amplified the train of thoughts swirling in your head.

As you sat alone on the balcony, the chilly night air enveloped you, matching the coldness you felt inside. Time lost its meaning, slipping through your fingers as you drowned in a sea of overthinking. Every possible scenario played out in your mind like a relentless storm, each outcome more daunting than the last. What could have happened if you could have just said.

Johnny appears through the doorframe. His presence was unexpected, you thought he was mad yet oddly comforting, a reminder that you weren't completely alone in this chaotic night. "Will you spend the whole night here?" he asked, concern etched in his voice. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to fully grasp his words.

Refusing to retreat from your self-imposed exile, you remained rooted to the spot, the numbness spreading through your limbs. Yet Johnny persisted, his care evident as he gently coaxed you back inside. "It's cold. Come inside, everybody left already," he urged, worry evident in his eyes.

Too weary to resist, you allowed him to guide you indoors, his touch grounding you in reality. As he settled you into his bed, a wave of familiarity washed over you, a stark reminder of the times you'd been here before, always on the edge of leaving. You had been here countless times, yet never truly stayed. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to leave, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

As he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, you instinctively reached out, clinging to his shirt. "Kiss me," you implored, your gaze locking with his warm brown eyes, overflowing with affection.

His response came with a gentle sigh, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "You're drunk," he stated softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I am, but I can still make sense of it all," you insisted, determination shining through the haze of intoxication.

"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Johnny reassured, his face drawing closer to yours.

"Please," you exhaled, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I know I'm the worst person alive right now but I- I'm just afraid. Please understand. I want you, I do, but it's so scary."

"Shh, it's okay, I know," he murmured, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. "I know you're trying."

Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingled, each exhalation a testament to the vulnerability you shared in that moment. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of your guilt heavy on your heart.

"You don't have to be," he replied, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture of forgiveness. "Look at me."

As you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Relax, okay? I'm happy that you opened up about it."

"I'm sorry," you repeated, the words a mantra of remorse.He shook his head gently, his touch comforting. "Let's try sleeping now, shall we? Don't think about it." With his reassurance enveloping you like a warm blanket, you allowed yourself to drift into the embrace of sleep, for the first time with him.

As consciousness reluctantly seeped into your foggy mind, a wave of discomfort washed over you, fueled by the repercussions of last night's poor choices. The harsh glare of morning light pierced through your eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache behind your temples.

Attempting to remove yourself from the confines of the bed proved to be a tough task, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and your head swimming with dizziness. Searching for Johnny's presence beside you, you found only an empty space, adding to the disorientation.

Succumbing to defeat, you surrendered to the comfy embrace of the mattress, sinking into its softness as you lay there, gazing blankly at the ceiling above. Dehydration gnawed at your parched throat. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around you faded into a haze of half-formed thoughts and fleeting sensations. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan above served as a lullaby.

In the midst of this surreal feeling, fragments of memories from the night before flickered like distant stars in the night sky. Realization and what-ifs danced at the edges of your mind, their haunting presence a constant reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of possibility that perhaps, despite the mistakes of the past, redemption was still within reach. You clung to this fragile thread of optimism, a lifeline in the midst of the storm.

Minutes stretched into hours, the passage of time marked only by the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the curtains. And then, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps drew near, with a weary sigh, you opened your eyes to find Johnny standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, you nodded sleepily.

As you reluctantly stirred from your sleep, you felt the duvet being tugged away, prompting a sleepy protest. "Erugh, let me sleep," you mumbled, trying to shield yourself from the intruding light.

But his teasing remark about your state of dress snapped you awake, and you jolted up, "You're completely naked," only to realize you were already covered. He pointed out with a playful grin, causing you to blush and scramble for cover.

However, your movements triggered a sharp pain in your head, and you winced, instinctively reaching to soothe it. Before you could fully register the discomfort, another hand joined yours, gently stroking your head. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him sitting close, his concern evident in his gaze.

"Who told you to drink that much? You puked two times," he said softly, his tone filled with worry and care. Giving in to his touch, you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence amidst the pain.

"I... may have overdone it a bit," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for his concern. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage your head as you relaxed against him.

"It's okay. Just drink some water and take it easy," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. With a nod, you reached for the glass he held out to you

He's far too good for you. A voice at the back of your head screams at you.

"Johnny..." you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but you needed to speak your mind.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he listens intently. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his words.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I've been thinking about..." you trail off, unsure of how to articulate the right words.

Johnny reaches out, his hand placing a strand of hair behind your ear,offering silent support. "Go on," he encourages gently.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words heavy with regret. "I know this is complicated, and i am making it even more complicated but I just don't want to hurt you." You could barely manage to say even that.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trail through the loops of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His hum reverberates through you, a sensual melody that ignites a fire deep within. But then, in an instant, his demeanor shifts, catching you off guard.

His hand tightens around your hair, pulling your head back with a swift, yet gentle force. The sudden change in his touch sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses to the electrifying proximity between you.

Your eyes meet his, dark and intense, and you find yourself unable to look away. His breath, warm and fruity, fans over your face, stirring something primal within you. In that moment, you're acutely aware of every sensation, every heartbeat, as you surrender to the magnetic pull of desire that envelops you both.

"Can't you see what you do to me?"

Johnny..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to continue.

"I... I didn't mean..." you stutter, struggling to find the right words as his grip on your hair loosens.

He chuckles softly, his laughter dancing in the air, easing some of the tension between you. "I know, I know," he reassures you, his tone gentle yet teasing.

"But..." you start, only to be cut off by his next words.

"You talk a lot when you're drunk," he says with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns along your skin.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing he's right.

"What did I say?" you ask, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.

His gaze softens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "That you tend to get... aroused whenever I say your name," he says, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head in denial, but deep down, you know he's right.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending tingles of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Johnny..." you breathe out his name, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in your mind as he hovers above you, his presence consuming your senses.

"Say it," he urges, his voice low and demanding, sending a thrill through your body.

"Johnny, listen to m—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a firm command.

"Say it!" he insists, his intensity leaving no room for argument.

"I want you, for fuck's sake, I want you," you finally admit, your voice tinged with both desire and vulnerability.

Closing your eyes, you release the grip you've been holding onto, allowing yourself to surrender to the overwhelming attraction between you.

You lay back, flattening against the bed, pushing your hair away from your face to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes, dark and intense, never waver from yours, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

"I want you, in every way possible, and it's no secret. I'm just afraid," you confess in a small voice, baring your soul to him.

Johnny's smile is reassuring, his touch gentle as he lays on top of you, ensuring he doesn't overwhelm you with his weight. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "You'll love me just fine."

In that moment, as you lay entwined with him, all your fears melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. You know that no matter what lies ahead, you're ready to explore this newfound connection with him by your side.

As Johnny hovers above you, his gaze dark with desire, you feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips brush against yours in a teasing caress, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between you.

"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as he trails kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with an expert touch that leaves you trembling with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck as he takes you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

With each touch, each caress, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by an electric current of desire that pulses through your veins. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

You arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he explores every inch of your skin with a delicate touch that sets your senses ablaze. His fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your lips collided with his in a heated embrace, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through both of your bodies. Crashing into each other, feelings of desire over powering you both. In that moment you knew, it was gonna be a hell of a ride and you couldn't be any more excited than you are right now.

After the kiss, you both laid side by side, "By the way you didn't really say any of that." Johnny gently whispers in your ear, and you both end up laughing, cuddling.

~~~

You like it?" Johnny asks, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he watches you take a lick of the ice cream. You nod enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across your face like a child on Christmas morning. His smile widens in response, a soft glow of happiness emanating from him. It's moments like these that make everything feel so right.

Since that unforgettable day when you poured your heart out to him, your life has been like a dream come true. Flowers, date nights, chocolates – you name it, he's made sure to fill your days with joy and love. From cozy movie nights to endless cuddles, it's like you've found the missing piece to your puzzle.

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Like any couple, you have your disagreements. Yet, what sets you apart is the unwavering understanding and support you both offer each other. Johnny never lets you go to bed upset, always there with reassurance and kisses to mend any hurt feelings.

He constantly reminds you that you're doing just fine, and it's true. It's not just about healing from past wounds; it's about the beautiful exchange of giving and receiving love. It's about reciprocating the care and affection you both share, knowing that the more you give, the more you receive.

In a world where it's easy to become complacent, you both choose to love each other every single day. And that, in itself, is the greatest gift of all.

You plead with puppy dog eyes, urging him to let you indulge in more ice cream because, well, why not? 'Pleeease let me have another scoop!' you whine, the anticipation of the creamy goodness making your mouth water. But alas, he declines with a chuckle, warning, 'No way! You'll catch a cold!' You pout, but secretly admire his concern."

Disappointed but not defeated, you pout and playfully stick out your bottom lip, giving Johnny your best puppy-dog eyes. "But Johnny," you protest, "I promise I'll bundle up extra warm tonight! Pretty please?"

Johnny can't help but laugh at your antics, finding your determination to get that extra scoop of ice cream utterly endearing. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and gently takes your hand in his. "As much as I love seeing that adorable pout of yours, I can't risk you getting sick, [Reader]. How about we save the ice cream for tomorrow, hmm?"

You sigh dramatically, but a mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "Fine," you concede, "but only if you promise to share a warm blanket and snuggle with me tonight."

A grin spreads across Johnny's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Deal," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you, my love."

As you both leave the ice cream parlor, the cool evening air wraps around you, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of your intertwined hands. As you both step into the cozy cafe, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, bringing back memories of the first time you met. Johnny's hand tightens around yours, his touch sending a thrill through you that's impossible to ignore.

You find a secluded booth in the corner, and as you settle in, Johnny's eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation sparking between you. "You know," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "this place holds a lot of memories for us."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It feels like just yesterday that we were sitting here, nervously sipping our coffees," you reply, your voice filled with affection.

Johnny leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But this time," he whispers, "we don't have to be nervous." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you meet his gaze with a newfound sense of boldness. "No, this time," you say, your voice steady and sure, "we can just be us."

With a gentle touch, Johnny cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, the world around you fading away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. It's a dance of tongues and teeth, of whispered words and soft sighs, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.

As you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Johnny's eyes meet yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. "I never want to stop kissing you," he confesses, his voice thick with desire.

A smile tugs at your lips as you lean in to press another kiss to his, the promise of countless more moments like this hanging in the air between you.

~~~

As you sit at your desk, textbooks spread out before you and notes scattered across the surface, you're fully immersed in your study session. The material is dense, and you're determined to grasp every concept before the upcoming exam.

Just as you're deep in concentration, Johnny enters the room with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buried in your books. Without a word, he crosses the room and leans against your desk, his presence a distraction you can't ignore.

"Hey there, studious one," he says, his voice low and playful. "Need a break?"

You look up from your books, torn between the desire to keep studying and the temptation of Johnny's irresistible charm. "I really should finish this chapter," you reply, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your stomach at his proximity.

But Johnny has other plans. With a swift movement, he slides your textbooks aside and pulls you to your feet, his hands finding their way to your waist as he draws you close. "I think you've earned a reward for all that hard work," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Before you can protest, Johnny's mouth descends on yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving deeper, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. Lost in the heat of the moment, you abandon all thoughts of studying as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you and the intoxicating rush of desire.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, until finally, you break apart, breathless and flushed, the taste of Johnny still lingering on your lips. "Now that's what I call a study break," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but laugh, the tension of the study session now a distant memory as you bask in the warmth of Johnny's love and the thrill of his touch.

~~~

As you made your way back from college, the skies darkened, and before you knew it, a heavy downpour unleashed its fury upon you. The rain hammered down relentlessly, soaking you up and down. Despite the continuous ringing of your phone from within your backpack, the rain made it impossible to retrieve. With no umbrella in hand, you quickened your pace towards the bus stop, only to witness the last bus pulling away just as you rounded the corner. Desperation set in as you attempted to sprint after it, but the distance between you and the departing vehicle only widened. Defeated, you exhaled heavily, feeling the chill of the rain seeping into your bones. Seeking refuge at the bus stop, you huddled under its shelter, which wasn't helping much.

As you stood there, shivering and dripping, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. The relentless rain seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. With each passing moment, your mind raced with thoughts of your worried boyfriend waiting at home, unaware of your predicament.

As you glanced down at your phone, the screen illuminated with missed calls and frantic messages from him. Frustration bubbled within you, knowing that you were only adding to his worry by being stranded in the storm. You tried to call him back, but the signal was weak, and the connection kept cutting out. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited for the next bus, the minutes ticking by like hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus appeared on the horizon, its headlights piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. With a sigh of relief, you boarded the bus, grateful for the warmth and safety it offered. And soon you were standing in front of his appointment door.

As the bus finally pulled up to a stop, you hurriedly disembarked, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. You practically sprinted the rest of the way home, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally, you arrived at the doorstep of your apartment, soaked and shivering. With trembling hands, you fumbled for your keys, desperate to be inside the safety of your home. But before you could even insert the key into the lock, the door swung open, revealing a worried and furious Johnny.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with anger and concern. "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I-I'm so sorry, Johnny," you stammered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. "I got caught in the storm, and I missed the bus, and...and I couldn't get through to you. I'm so sorry."

Johnny's expression softened as he took in your trembling form, his anger melting away in an instant. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm just glad you're safe," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I was so worried about you. Let's get you inside and warm you up, okay?"

You nod, feeling the weight of your backpack against the wall as you follow Johnny into the bedroom. With a quick movement, you pull your hair up, hoping to keep it from sticking to your clothes. Sensing his hands on your torso, you inhale sharply as they glide around to the front, undoing the button of your jeans. Anticipation mounts as he pulls them down, and then he sits, planting kisses on your damp thigh, eliciting a dissatisfied moan from you.

In a swift motion, your undies join the jeans on the floor. "Nice butt," he remarks, drawing a rhetorical look from you. Stepping closer, he removes the t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin, and with it, your bra disappears too. "Beautiful as always," he murmurs, enveloping you in a warm towel and pulling you close, his lips finding your neck, leaving their mark.

"Johnny," you sigh as his hands slip under the towel, teasingly moving between your legs, knowing just where to stop, leaving you breathless. "I'll be right back, change into dry clothes, okay?" he says, his voice a tantalizing promise hanging in the air.

He returned with a steaming mug of tea, fragrant steam curling upwards in the air. He handed it to you with a tender smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your chilled fingers.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his voice soothing.. "It'll help warm you up."

"I only need you to warm me up."

"Come here then." He motions you to sit with him in the bed he made, warm and cozy. As you lay there in Johnny's arms, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Johnny," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry for worrying you. I never meant to cause you so much distress."

Johnny's arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered back, his voice filled with reassurance. "I was just so scared when I couldn't reach you. All I could think about was making sure you were safe."

You buried your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on," you vowed, your words muffled against his skin. "I never want to put you through that kind of worry again."

Johnny tilted your chin up gently, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. "I know you will," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Johnny's fingers danced along the buttons of your blouse, a spark of desire ignited between you, fueling the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

"How about we finish what we started earlier?"

Your heart raced at his words, the anticipation building with every breath. With a smile, you nodded in agreement, your own desire mirrored in your eyes as you leaned in to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

The heat between you intensified quickly, passion igniting like a wildfire as your bodies melded together in a tangle of desire. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues danced in a feverish rhythm, and hands roamed eagerly, seeking out every inch of skin they could find.

With a swift movement, you straddled Johnny, taking control of the moment as you traced a path of kisses down his neck, relishing in the soft gasps and low growls that escaped his lips. As his shirt fell away, revealing his beautifully toned body beneath, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

Too shy to say anything, you let your actions speak for you. Lingering on his nipples, you teased and tantalized, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Johnny's lips. With each flick of your tongue and gentle nip of your teeth, the tension between you grew, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of desire.

But you weren't done yet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued your exploration, trailing kisses and caresses down Johnny's torso until you reached the waistband of his jeans. With practiced hands, you teased and toyed with him through the fabric, making him harder with every stroke, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath your touch.

As his pleasured groans filled the air, you couldn't resist escalating your actions, eagerly sliding his pants down while he sat up, fixated on your every move. Locking eyes with him, you took him into your mouth, teasingly tracing the tip with your tongue, prompting a soft curse from his lips. Pulling back, you continued to lavish attention on him, savoring every moment as you licked his length, stealing glances up at him. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod.

Returning to him, you gradually took more of him into your mouth, relishing in the way his hands urged you on, guiding you further down. He pulled you up for a heated kiss, expressing his desire to explore your taste. As his lips trailed down your neck, he urged you to sit on his face, igniting nerves and excitement within you. With his encouragement, you straddled his eager mouth, blushing at his sweet words as his lips planted kisses on your thighs.

Feeling his hands on your hips, he drew you closer, his tongue eagerly finding your clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. As his hands explored your body, adding to your arousal, you couldn't help but cry out in bliss as he skillfully pleasured you,

As your pleasure surged, you couldn't contain your cries, feeling the intensity of his actions. "Oh, fuck," escaped your lips as he intensified his efforts, his mouth and tongue working fervently on your clit. His suction grew stronger, his tongue moving with increasing speed, drawing out guttural moans from you. "Oh my god," you exclaimed as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, "fuck," you moaned as he persisted in his ministrations.

His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, he delved deeper into your core, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Oh god, don't stop," you gasped, your breath ragged as you requested his fingers. With a calm demeanor, he complied, easing his fingers into you, eliciting a blissful moan from your lips. As he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving rhythmically inside you, your cries of ecstasy filled the room.

"Oh my god," you moaned aloud as he momentarily paused, only to reposition himself behind you. Bending you slightly, he inserted two fingers, drawing out a soft, pleasurable moan from you. With relentless determination, he showed no mercy, driving you towards another peak of pleasure. The sound of slick noises filled the air as his fingers worked expertly within you, pushing your head gently into the headboard to ensure your stability as you surrendered to his touch.

As his hand pressed you down onto his fingers, a fervent moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming you. "Oh my god," you cried out as he intensified his movements, driving you wild with desire. With increasing speed and force, his fingers plunged into you, eliciting a chorus of ecstatic moans from your lips.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, his command clear. "Turn around," he instructed, guiding you gently as you complied, meeting his intense gaze. Enveloped in his embrace, you shared a deep, passionate kiss, his desire evident in his words as he broke the connection. "I want to fuck you," he declared, and you eagerly nodded in agreement, urgency coursing through your veins.

Pushed onto the bed, your legs spread wide, you watched as he knelt between them, his eyes fixated on your dripping arousal. His finger traced circles on your swollen clit, then slipped inside you, claiming you as his own. "Mine," he whispered, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you nodded in submission, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours," you affirmed, anticipation building in the air.

With a hungry look, he licked his lips before slowly entering you with his cock, causing you to gasp in ecstasy. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he began to move within you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the brink of pleasure.

As he increased the pace, driving into you with fervent desire, your cries of ecstasy filled the room. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he relentlessly fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his declaration of love mingling with the sounds of your pleasure. "I love you," he murmured against your lips, his words igniting a fire within you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reciprocated his declaration, your voice filled with desire. "I love you too," you confessed as he continued to ravish you with his relentless thrusts. With a swift motion, he withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach. "Get on all fours," he commanded, assisting you into position.

Meeting his gaze over your shoulder, you were met with a declaration of your beauty, sending shivers down your spine. As he entered you from behind, a rush of anticipation flooded your senses. His movements became more intense, driving into you harder and faster, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. "Oh my god," you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Feeling his hand reach around to play with your clit, a surge of pleasure washed over you, intensifying the pleasure building within. "Oh my god," you moaned again, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body aching for release.

As he took control, holding both your hands behind your back, you surrendered to him completely. Your petite frame under his dominance, your face buried into the sheets muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. Sensing his impending release, you knew you were on the brink of ecstasy.

With a few final, deep thrusts, you both succumbed to the ecstasy, waves of pleasure washing over you in a euphoric crescendo. As he pulled out, licking you clean, you whimpered from the overstimulation, your body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

a sense of blissful exhaustion washed over you both. Lying tangled together under the sheet, hearts racing and skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. As you caught your breath, he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulders, his touch gentle and tender. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration as he caressed your cheek. You smiled up at him. In his arms, you feel safe and cherished, the weight of the world melting away as sleep begins to claim you. Drifting off with the rhythmic beat of his heart as your lullaby, you rest easy knowing that you are safe. And you finally know, what love actually feels like

~~~

hope you liked it. umh? idk tried, if you want to request anything, please do. (it'll take forever but ill respond)

please check out other works m.list

and enjoy, have a good day, night~

[itsthewritergal]

Please can I hold you? - Bucky.Barnes x Reader

Hello my loves,

I'm trying to be better this year at writing.

Summary: Y/N leaves, and Bucky tries his hardest to fix it.

TW: Kissing, trauma, family trauma, shouting, swearing, (let me know if I've missed some)

January 1st, it was supposed to be their year. They had promised each other that this was it, Bucky and Y/N. Bucky had promised no more long missions away from Y/N, Y/N had promised that she would move in with Bucky so they could finally spend more time together. A good year was what they wanted, what they deserved, what they needed.  But here they were screaming at each other over Bucky not kissing Y/N at midnight. Y/N had explained to Bucky multiple times that she was at the edge, she couldn’t cope anymore with arguing, and whilst Bucky never admitted it, he hated it just as much, if not more than Y/N. Yet here they were. 

“And another thing, I didn’t even want to go to Nat’s stupid New Year’s eve party” Bucky screamed ‘I wanted to be at home with you’ was the bit he failed to include in his insult. 

“You told me you wanted to be with people you loved on New Year’s Eve, I thought it would be fun” She shouted back “You think it was fun for me? Because it fucking wasn’t. All I wanted to do was come home, the whole night, but you wanted to keep drinking” She seethed, Bucky wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to drink, but he stupidly got caught up in the party. 

“Now you’re going to get at me for drinking? Like you don’t do it every single weekend” He shouted, “Thor never brings that fucking mead, I deserved to have a nice night” He was being mean intentionally, but he couldn’t stop. 

“I never said you didn’t Buck” She said her voice suddenly quieter, Bucky should have noticed it was because she was getting upset but he didn’t. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been working? I just wanted one nice night” Bucky should have stopped himself, he knows he should stop but he couldn’t. He was angry at himself for not putting his foot down and saying he wanted to spend time with just Y/N. 

“One nice night?” Y/N parroted “The nights we have aren’t nice? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“No! You’re twisting my words” Bucky snapped, he spoke with insecurity but it came across as anger and Y/N didn’t like that 

“Because I’m the bad guy right? James Bucky Barnes can’t put a foot wrong, but I can. That’s all I do right?” Y/N said, her fears coming to the surface. The insecurity was all from her messed up childhood, Bucky knew that from their late night chats, when they’d lay next to each other and confess everything, but he didn’t realise that the fear was seeping into their relationship. 

“That’s not what this is about” Bucky said realising suddenly how far he had taken the fight, and how distraught Y/N was becoming 

“Isn’t it?” Y/N snapped, her eyes locked onto Bucky as a target.

“You’re making this worse than it needs to be” Bucky said, unknowingly adding more fuel to the fire 

“Yeah that’s me isn’t it? Making everything worse. Don’t worry Buck, I get it” She snapped turning away from Bucky 

“Where the hell are you going?” He called after her 

“Downstairs Buck, I need some space away from you right now” She stormed out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Bucky sat down on their bed with his head in his hands, he had just fucked everything up. 

Taking a deep breath Bucky decided to set an alarm for 10 minutes, and once it had gone off he would go and speak to Y/N calmly about his feelings. That was how they were going to fix it. He knew he had messed up but he would fix it. 

Y/N stood in their hallway, and listened to Bucky close their bedroom door. She knew she had blown things out of proportion, she had made things worse. The little voice in her head told her she had messed things up seriously this time. There was no coming back from this. Bucky hated her, she knew that much. The thought along was enough to almost break her, pulling on her trainers she left the house silently, following the little voice down the streets. She twisted and turned around the streets she used to love walking with Bucky, but now they just felt like they were taunting her as she remembered the kisses they had shared at the bus stop, and the stray cat they had wanted to adopt by the street corner.  She couldn’t cope with it, so she began to run. 

The wind blew in her ears, the kind of fierce that stopped her from having to think, it was dark and the street lamps did little to ease her discomfort. She was on her way home, in the desperate hope that Bucky was asleep, or at Steve’s or Sam’s. She had no idea of the time,  having left her phone at home in Bucky’s jacket pocket most likely, but she sent a silent prayer to the sky that it was late enough that Bucky wouldn’t still be around. She couldn’t face him, not after everything she had done. Her mother was right, she wasn’t made for relationships, she would always mess them up, and now she had screwed up the only good thing she had going for her. This was it. She was done. Y/N didn’t notice the way her hands shivered a little with the cold biting wind, with her furious mood and growing insecurity she had forgotten a coat.  As she turned onto her and Bucky’s street the tears started again, this really was the end. Her and Bucky were about to be done, finished, ended. 

So much for their year. She mused to herself silently, revelling in the cruel twist of fate, her mother was right. 

Pushing the handle of the door down quietly, in the hope to not wake Bucky if he was in, Y/N creaked the door open. She took a shaky step into the house, listening out for Bucky. When she was satisfied that there was no sound of him she closed the door behind her and took off her shoes. 

“Y/N?” Bucky’s shaky voice called out, she froze. “Baby?” He said coming into the hall, Y/N put her hand back on the door handle, she was ready to run again, this was not a conversation she was ready to have. 

“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again” He said wrapping his arms around her tensed body, Y/N kept herself tensed, she was ready to run if she needed. 

“I know you’re scared, I know you think you’ve messed this all up but I swear to you this whole argument is on me” he said refusing to let her out of his embrace, 

“Bucky stop” she said quietly 

“I’m sorry” He said dropping his arms, she looked up at him with red eyes “Could you come and sit down in the lounge for me?” He asked 

“I should go” 

“No” Bucky said “You’re going to come and sit down and we are going to talk about this, because we are bigger than your insecurities and we are going to fix this” he said, 

“Oh,” Y/N said “oh” She repeated once the words had settled into her head “You aren’t breaking up with me?” 

“Come on doll, come sit down for me?” He said 

“Ok” She said, following Bucky through their house. 

Y/N settled herself into an armchair, where she could curl her legs up underneath herself. Bucky opted for the sofa opposite her, picking up on the fact that she didn’t want to touch him just yet. 

“Before we start, the next time you need to get away you tell me where you’re going. I was terrified doll, I know the kind of people that are out there and if you need space, please let me come with you. I promise I won’t walk beside you or speak to you but I need to know you are safe.” Bucky said “Please?” 

“I’m sorry Buck” She said,

“No apologies. We have to make mistakes to fix them for the future yeah?” He said 

“I don think I can do this Bucky. All your friends hate me, I invited you to a party you didn’t want to be at, I asked you to cut down your missions. Everything I do, makes me the issue in this relationship” She said, 

“That’s not true, everyone loves you—”

“No they don’t, they put up with me” 

“No, no, Y/N. Please don’t do this. I know you’re spiralling, I know that you’ve always been made to believe that its your fault. But I swear to you this one is on me. I wanted to spend New Years Eve with just you. I wanted to kiss you at midnight, but I fucked up. I got drunk and neglected you. You should have been my priority at midnight, not that stupid drink” 

“I should’ve let you have fun” Y/N said 

“No, I should have kissed you” Bucky said, his tone was final and Y/N didn’t want to argue anymore. 

“I didn’t deserve it” 

“You don’t have to earn love” Bucky said, moving to the carpeted space in front of Y/N’s armchair, taking Y/N’s hands in his he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles “I love you, I want to spend my life with you and I will spend every single moment apologising to you for the way I acted” 

“I’m sorry for saying all those mean things Buck” Y/N said “I didn’t mean them I just wanted to make myself the bad person so you could hate me. I wanted you to hate me” 

“Why did you want that?” Bucky asked after pressing another kiss to her hand 

“So you’d end things, so my fears could come true. It’s sadistic, but I guess I’m always just waiting for the end so I just wanted it to happen. Like ripping a bandage off” 

“Oh Y/N” Bucky said gently “You never have to be scared of me leaving. We will always work through our issues, you’re my life. You’re my world, this is it for me.” 

“So you’re not waiting for me to fuck up so you can leave?” 

“No, I’m not” Bucky said 

“I’m sorry” she whispered 

“No more apologies” Bucky whispered “Please let me hold you baby? We can talk more in the morning I promise. But right now I just need to hold you”

“You never need to ask”

[louisupdates]

INTERVIEW: Lottie Tomlinson: we lost our mum and sister. Louis saved me

At the age of 20, the sister of One Direction singer Louis had already lost her mother, Johannah, and sister Félicité. Now 25, the social media star has written a book about how they coped

Alice Thomson | Tuesday July 23 2024, 5.00pm BST, The Times

Losing Mum was so hard. I was only a teenager but at least I knew that her death was a possibility, even though she didn’t accept it. She was 47 and had cancer. But when my sister died three years later, I was on this hotel balcony in Bali and I was screaming, ‘No, my baby sister, no.’ The pain was indescribable. I kept thinking, ‘Why me? This can’t be happening again. When is this going to end?’ ”

We are sitting on Lottie Tomlinson’s immaculate white sofa in her pristine white house in Chislehurst, southeast London, where she is curled up in tiny shorts with a perfect tan and impeccably applied make-up. But her French manicured nails are digging so hard into the sofa I think they might snap, the heart tattoo on her minuscule wrist is throbbing and her eyelashes are clogged with tears.

Her life sounds blessed. The influencer has 4.8 million Instagram followers waiting for her to dispense advice on how to apply mascara; the fake tan brand, Tanologist, that she launched at 19 has gone global; and she has a devoted fiancé, Lewis Burton, who runs a luxury concierge business and whose former girlfriend was the late Caroline Flack. They have an adorable son called Lucky, who is dripping ice cream on her marble counters. Her new book is also called Lucky Girl; her older brother is Louis Tomlinson of One Direction and she was touring the world with the band as a make-up artist at 16.

But after her mother died when she was 18, Tomlinson was left looking after her younger sister and two sets of twin siblings, aged eight and two, while creating her businesses, and trying to process her grief. Her father had left their home in Doncaster years before after a battle with alcohol. “Dad had a drinking problem. We’d see glimpses of his good side but he let us down,” she says. “I ended up trying to take care of him rather than the other way round.”

When her mother died, life felt bleak, “I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, and then when my sister Fizz [Félicité] died of an accidental overdose, I thought I could never be happy again,” she says. “I found the lead-up to Mother’s Day devastating without my sister as well. It was a constant reminder that I was now different from my friends. In my dreams, my mum was still there; she was alive. I woke up feeling comforted, only to realise that she’d gone.”

Tomlinson, who is now 25 and a patron of the bereavement charity Sue Ryder, moves easily between telling you how to apply the best tan and how to talk about death. She cares passionately about both subjects and takes them equally seriously, worried that I’ve never tried a bronzer or used foundation before asking how I coped when my mother died during the pandemic. Her soft Yorkshire accent is both reassuring and no-nonsense.

Born near Doncaster, she was only two when Fizz was born and six when the first twins arrived. “I’ve always been the big sister — Fizz and I each got one and then more twins six years later.” While Louis had his own space, the girls all shared one room with bunk beds. “It was chaos, but my mum, Johannah, was a midwife and loved being pregnant and having so many babies,” she explains. “I used to be in awe of the way she could feed the twins at once, one on each hip. She would do the night shifts, while I held the fort at home.”

Within a few years, Tomlinson would be touring America, Asia and Europe, flying first class with Louis, part of the biggest boy band in the world, but until she was 15, the family had only ever gone to France once a year all packed into a seven-seater car, with her mother’s new partner, snacks laid out in the middle. They stayed in a caravan park. On a Sunday, a treat was to go to their mother’s hospital to see the babies.

While Louis just wanted to sing, play the guitar and listen to Oasis, the girls were obsessed with make-up. “From the age of 12, I struggled academically, but I loved cropped clothes and my mum’s highlighters and mascaras.” She learnt how to apply everything from YouTube tutorials, rather than doing algebra. “We didn’t have much money — we sometimes couldn’t afford to top up the electricity meter so used candles — but everything my mum earned she spent on us. We all looked immaculate — I remember her being horrified when I dyed my hair orange. So it was lovely later when we could treat her.”

Saturday nights were spent watching The X Factor. “My mother and brother kept applying; in 2010, he got in and the whole family went for the audition. We believed in him, but we never thought it would go that far.” One day the family were going to the live shows, the next the boy band was formed with Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. “He was 18. For my mum it was a big shock. It was all so sudden. The press and fans were in our front garden every day.”

The older twins had already made their first TV appearances — they sound like Doncaster’s Von Trapps. “My mother was gently pushy,” Tomlinson says, smiling at the thought. “When I didn’t get good enough GCSEs to stay at school, she sent me off to join Louis on tour as work experience. I was so scared. I remember her ringing up Lou [Teasdale], their hair and make-up artist, and saying, ‘Lottie has not got through to sixth form; she’s going to come and assist you.’ I was in the car going, ‘No, please don’t.’ But it ended up being the best thing that happened to me. I went for a week and stayed two years. Lou and I are still so close.”

Suddenly, the two eldest Tomlinson children were circling the world, eating room service and ducking the paparazzi hanging out of helicopters taking snaps. “At first Louis didn’t really want his little sister gate crashing his new rock-star life, but now it feels like the best time of our lives — we experienced that craziness together,” she says.

The teenage Tomlinson found it harder to cope with being photographed wherever she went. “I had some puppy fat which made me very self-aware, and the filler culture was coming in and I felt I had to look perfect.” She had her lips done first at 17. “Then I became addicted: cheek filler, jaw filler, more make-up, blonder hair, slimmer and more tanned. My mum thought I looked perfect, but I was always searching.”

Five years later, when she became pregnant with Lucky and her lips started to swell and crack, she realised she didn’t need the enhancements any more. “I had everything removed, the false eyelashes too. It was liberating.” She kept her boob job, however. “That was just enhancement,” she says laughing. “The rest radically changed the way I looked. My breasts also got huge when I was pregnant and it was a bit painful. But I still breastfed. I loved carrying my child. I felt fantastic even when I was sick and exhausted.”

She leans forward, wraps her bronzed arms around her stomach and whispers, “I am pregnant again. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl. It’s only 13 weeks, so this is the first time I’ve said it publicly. I think I want a big family. I loved having Lucky but after a year I wanted to give him siblings.”

Tomlinson’s influencer career began once she established herself on tour. Soon everything she did, even dying her roots rainbow-coloured, went viral and fashion companies from Asos to Dior wanted in on it. “I was just going for it. I couldn’t believe the money I was making and spending — money I didn’t know existed as a child.”

Then suddenly her mum came home from holiday with flu. “She didn’t want to get out of bed. The doctors quite quickly told her she had leukaemia and she went straight to London for treatment. It all happened so fast. I remember being in London at work and getting a call from her partner — she couldn’t say the words herself, it was too hard for her.” The family were told it was treatable. “We kept so much hope.”

Her mother asked the family to keep her illness secret. “It was hard because you feel so isolated, but I understood. Louis was in the public eye and she didn’t want him questioned. She was determined to fight it and didn’t want everyone pitying her. My friends noticed I was acting differently for a few months. But I wanted to respect her wishes. It was her one request.”

She also dropped everything to go back to Doncaster to help her grandparents with the twins. “The younger ones were two and I wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. I can’t imagine what my mum was feeling leaving her kids to go to hospital.

“I would take them down and treasure seeing her — we tried to keep it light, no serious conversation. The only way Mum could cope was to keep it normal. Then, when the doctors said the transfusions hadn’t worked, she came home to die.”

Tomlinson tries to sound matter-of-fact. “We went to see her in hospital in Sheffield and the next morning we woke up and were told she had died. We felt numb. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Now I am involved with the Sue Ryder charity, I am surprised we were offered no support or counselling at all, from the GP, the teachers, the professionals. They all kept away.” Her nan and grandad picked up the pieces.

It’s not surprising she can’t remember the funeral. “I just remember getting really drunk to numb the pain. I couldn’t come to terms with it. I can’t even remember how we organised it. My instinct was to take over as the eldest girl and step into my mum’s shoes so that is what I did.” Meanwhile, her older brother, who was launching his solo career, ensured there was enough money. “He’s incredibly generous. We looked after each other.”

Tomlinson returned to London months later, after her grandmother said she needed to become a role model for her siblings. Her younger sister Fizz worried her most. “She was very academic — she got straight A’s without trying — but she always said she felt different. She was bottling her grief for so long; it was too much and made her turn to other things. I think Mum’s death destroyed her. Only my mum seemed to understand her. If she had been offered some help at the start, things might have been different.”

Meanwhile, Tomlinson’s self-tanning brand was soon being sold in Los Angeles, New York and Australia, while her own fanbase grew; she hardly ever needed to pay for drinks, meals or holidays. However, she finds the term influencer obnoxious. “I don’t want to act like I tell people what to do. I am more of a content creator,” she explains. “I get paid by brands to create content for their clothes or beauty products and promote that to my followers. I also wanted my own business. I was quite aware that, at the end of the day, I was just working with an app. That’s why I started Tanologist with my business partner. I was always using tanning treatments that would end up turning my sheets orange and my face would break out in spots — this is more natural.”

Louis was also forging his career as a solo artist, eventually creating the song Two of Us about his mother’s death. “We were always so proud of Louis and what he was doing. We were not going to match up to being a global superstar, but we didn’t want to — ‘successful’ looks different for everyone,” she says.

But her sister Fizz was slipping and struggling. “She was old enough to do what she wanted at 19; she was partying and taking stuff to numb everything. She did go into rehab but to me it didn’t feel like an addiction problem, but a way to blank out her grief.” When Tomlinson was invited to Bali, she asked Fizz whether she wanted her to stay behind. “She said she was OK, and then it happened while I was away,” she says. (Fizz accidentally overdosed on cocaine, an anxiety drug and painkillers, her inquest found.) “Louis called me…” She stops talking.

The shock of a second death must have been devastating. She doesn’t speak for a minute while she twists her huge diamond engagement ring. “We weren’t mentally prepared,” she eventually says. “I can’t even remember if the two funerals were in the same church. I think grief has affected my memory a lot and that’s quite common. Grief is such a powerful emotion; it takes up a lot of your brain.”

Five years later, she now knows how to remain positive. “I had an amazing mum for 18 years. I have the most amazing family, my little boy and my career, and that is because of her. The same with Fizz — I had an amazing sister. It’s heartbreaking they aren’t with us any more, but they are together and they are looking out for me,” she says, sounding as though she is repeating a mantra.

Having a baby made her feel closer to them both. “He was a boy — it’s funny, he actually looks a lot like Louis did — and I thought, this is what my mother must have felt. But then I had so many questions I couldn’t ask, even more because she was a midwife.”

Her biggest problem was her terror that something terrible would happen to her son. “I became fixated [on the idea that] something bad would happen to him, so I couldn’t sleep. You go to the worst-case scenario, because that’s happened to you twice, to two of the closest people in your life. I couldn’t turn the lights off at night; I needed to see him all the time. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly.”

We are still flitting between her story and advice on make-up, exercise and clothes.

“I like sharing advice. If a child lost their mother, I would say there is no magic answer. But the point of this book is to show that you can have tragic things happen and still keep going.”

What would the 25-year-old now say to her younger self, struggling at her second funeral at the age of 20? “I would say, ‘You are going to be OK; you will live a nice life.’ I didn’t think I could. I thought this will be a really sad, lonely life without my mum and sister. I wouldn’t have believed then that I could be happy again. But it would have been nice to hear.”

Lucky Girl by Lottie Tomlinson (Bonnier, £22). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

Sometimes i think about how the reason Elriel shippers are Elriel shippers is because of all the evidence that is canonically in the books. All those interactions, all the details, all the intentional writing dedicated to creating a need to see them together. So many indicative moments: Elain who was raised afraid of fae, overcoming the fear after meeting Azriel…Elain learning to cope with the loss of her humanity, largely because of Azriel’s presence in her life…Feyre noting how Elain clings to Azriel for comfort…Azriel being the one to realize Elain is a seer, when the healer who visits her specifically says “If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate” and Lucien only thinks she has gone mad…Azriel being the only one to notice Elain’s absence when the cauldron tricks her…Azriel risking his life for Elain and not being able to put her down even after she is safe…Elain being depicted as a soft and delicate character but when Azriel is in danger, she kicks a naga-hound in the face to protect him…Azriel giving Elain truthteller…Elain giving Azriel gifts each solstice while she doesn’t give Lucien anything….The bonus chapter confirming that both Elain and Azriel want each other and how deeply connected they are that they can communicate even without speaking (i. e. Elain verbally saying yes to the kiss, even though Azriel doesn’t voice the question). Their relationship is one of the most special and precious in the series. The reason i love Feysand so so much, is the way they made each other want to live again. It was the most beautiful thing to see, the way they gave each other hope again. The thing is, with Feyre, her main struggle is believing she is not enough…with Nesta, it is believing she is too much…but Elain, she believes she is nothing at all. I think Elain is afraid of being invisible, at least to those she loves. She craves someone who truly sees her and the most observant person in the series is Azriel, who has always, always seen her. From the very beginning, with him noticing her fingers around the fork.

We are slowly approaching the finish line of waiting for the sixth book, and i am convinced that it is Elriel’s time. It has been such a long time of bickering about the ships and the dynamics and all, but i would like to say that there are so many reasons that Elriel supporters love this ship…and i can’t wait to finally see it officially set sail.

🦇🌸💞

[wannabespacesmuggler]

PLATONIC ➵ S. WILSON

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Bucky has no idea how two people who have known each other for two decades can be so blind to their feelings for one another. At first, it was somewhat comical, the two of you dancing around your obvious attraction for one another, but Bucky has grown tired of pretending that your relationship is strictly platonic.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF (some angst if you squint), mutual pining, mentions of Riley (CA:TWS), Bucky meddling in your relationship, mentions of the Blip, alcohol consumption, Reader and Sam being two oblivious idiots in love, no use of y/n

Word Count: 3.8k

Song Inspo: "Platonic" by Ryan Hurd

Author’s Note: So, I saw Brave New World in February and haven't been able to stop thinking about Sam Wilson since. The x Reader tag for my boy is absolutely lacking so I decided to write something for my cap. Hope you guys enjoy some good ole Sam Wilson fluff. Let me know what you guys think and if you have any Sam Wilson x Reader recs on tumblr. Please, I'm desperate.

“You know you could just ask him out, right?”

You choke down your beer, nearly spitting it out as Bucky speaks up beside you. The two of you have been quietly sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the shitty, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub that Sam insists on frequenting whenever all three of you are in D.C. at the same time. The little tradition had started as a coping mechanism after the three of you were blipped back into existence. You remember Sam begging you to accompany him to O’Malley’s the first time. And you remember sitting between your best friend and Bucky Barnes — it looked almost comical, an ex-Hydra assassin, a former Air Force pilot, and the newly named Captain America drinking a beer together. At first, you thought that Sam had asked you to come as a way to get you out of your house after everything that happened, but as the three of you sat in uncomfortable silence together, you realized that Sam brought you as a buffer. In all the years you’ve known the charismatic Sam Wilson, you never met someone he couldn’t talk to.

And then you met James Buchanan Barnes. 

Unlike Sam, you quickly fell into a cordial friendship with Bucky once you broke the ice. He’s both headstrong and cocky but also observant and aloof. People who meet him in passing might comment on how quiet he is, but you know he’s incredibly opinionated — hell, you made the mistake of commenting about baseball during your trio’s second outing together and had to listen to the man complain about the Brooklyn Dodgers moving to LA for a good thirty minutes. But what really bonded you with Bucky was Sam. You know that when Bucky looks at Sam, he sees what Steve saw in him — the man that Captain America decided was worthy of his mantle. 

He reminds you of Riley in many ways, and that’s why Sam had a more challenging time getting on board with the three of you hanging out together at first. Because for so long, it was just you, Sam, and Riley. You met Sam at boot camp, and then you met Riley shortly after. The three of you ran pararescue missions together — Sam and Riley clad in Exo-7 flight suits while you manned the C-130, which, thanks to a big government contract with Stark Industries, integrated cloaking systems and environmental blending. Then, on a routine mission, Riley got shot out of the sky, and suddenly it was just you and Sam. Sam became a PTSD veteran counselor, you got a piloting job with SHIELD stationed in D.C. to stay close to him, and then the two of you became regulars at O’Malley’s due to its proximity to both of your apartments. A part of Sam was afraid that he was replacing Riley by inviting Bucky into the space you share with him, but he had made a promise to Steve before he’d gone back in time with the infinity stones. And slowly but surely, the two became close friends, bonding over shared military stories, their musical tastes, and their deep respect and adoration for you. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bucky scoffs at your question before taking another swig of his beer. He knows you’re playing dumb — the two of you have been participating in this same song and dance for the better part of a year now. Two months into regularly drinking with Sam and Bucky at O’Malley’s, you drunkenly confessed to Bucky that you harbor feelings for your best friend. He pretended to be shocked, but he knew about your little secret after first meeting with you and Sam. Bucky may be a tad out of touch with new social norms — the man hasn’t participated in the dating scene since the 1940s — but the act of pining hasn’t changed over the decades that have passed. 

“We’re just going to pretend you haven’t been brooding all night after Sam got whisked away by those girls?”

You roll your eyes at Bucky’s question. The annoyance weaved into your expression doesn’t come from a place of malice but instead draws from your frustration at how well Bucky understands you. Sam will always be your best friend, but Bucky has become something like a brother to you over the past year — an empty role in your life since Riley passed away. And after all, Bucky is an older brother — a protector — at his core. He may have lost his little sister a lifetime ago, but the instincts were still there, buried deep down until you and Sam showed up in his life.

“Brooding is your thing, Buck.”

“Exactly. So, can you stop stepping on my shoes?”

A smile tugs at your lips as Bucky playfully nudges you with his elbow. You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, and his humor has made you feel a little lighter; however, there’s still a gnawing in the pit of your stomach as you watch one of the girls slowly slide their hand down Sam’s arm. Bucky follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh.

“Seriously, kid. What’s stopping you from just asking him out?”

“He’s my best friend, Buck.”

Bucky arches a brow at your reasoning. You say it as if it’s the answer to all of your heartache — as if it’s a valid excuse to hold yourself back from happiness. He has no idea how two people who have known each other for two decades can be so blind to their feelings for one another. At first, it was somewhat comical, the two of you dancing around your obvious attraction for one another, but Bucky has grown tired of pretending that your relationship is strictly platonic. He’s been trying to intervene, but whenever you think about confessing your feelings to Sam, you immediately talk yourself out of it. And Sam isn’t any better. Bucky’s tried to talk some sense into him at least a dozen times, but he’s sure you don’t feel the same way about him.

“I could always set you up with one of my friends.”

“I’m fairly certain you only have two friends, and they’re currently at this bar, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he finishes his beer. 

“Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of you and Sam.”

He places the empty bottle on the counter along with a five-dollar bill before layering his leather jacket over his long-sleeve t-shirt. It’s a mild spring day, but you know he doesn’t wear the extra layers for warmth. They’re worn for the same reason as his leather gloves — security that his shiny, metal arm is covered. Bucky spares Sam one last glance before turning his attention back to you. You’re nursing the beer in your hand, simply waiting for Sam to notice you again. He gently grabs your shoulder with his good hand, and Bucky’s heart breaks in his chest as you look up at him with sad eyes.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nod at his question, and Bucky releases his hold before heading home for the night. With a sigh, you finish your lukewarm beer and order another while waiting patiently for your best friend. Sam Wilson has always been the life of the party — the man who shines like a ray of sunlight even on the darkest days. But the Captain America mantle came with a newfound attention that Sam seems to revel in. You, however, find yourself struggling with it — it had been just the two of you for so long, and now you feel like you’re sharing him with all of America. 

But little do you know that even now, with the entire bar vying for his attention, Sam feels drawn to you like some invisible string is pulling him back. His eyes scan the crowd at O’Malley’s until they find you. He gives you a bright, genuine smile — the kind that leaves you grinning from ear to ear. You watch as he excuses himself from the lively conversation and approaches you. He slides into the seat beside you, shoulder bumping against yours as he leans into your space to grab the beer in front of you. You shoot him a playful glare as he takes a drink out of your beer bottle, and he winks at you in response. He places the bottle back in front of you before speaking.

“Bucky already left?”

“You know the old man — has to be home before bedtime.”

Sam laughs while throwing an arm back across your chair. You don’t even think twice about the action; Sam’s done it at least a thousand times at this point.

“Are you ready to get out of here?”

You give him an eager nod, desperate to get some fresh air. Sam laughs at your reaction before paying both of your tabs. Like in the bar, you don’t think twice as Sam slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walk down the streets of the nation’s capital. Not even as he walks up the five flights of stairs with you to your apartment, unlocking the door with the key you gave him ages ago. Not even as he moves through your apartment as if it were his, opening your fridge to grab two beers and rifling through your junk drawer to find the bottle opener he knows is in there. Not even as Sam falls asleep on your couch again after a night of talking for hours. You don’t think twice because this is how it’s always been between you and Sam — it’s always been comfortable, domestic. 

But, for some reason, tonight is different. As you sit on your kitchen counter, finishing your beer, Sam’s loud snores from your living room are drowned out by Bucky’s words from earlier this evening ringing in your ears. This is what your life has always looked like, but is this all it will be — waiting for your slice of Sam’s increasingly divided time? You’re happy for him. Truly. Sam deserves everything that the mantle of Captain America comes with — the attention, the popularity, the spotlight. You’re overjoyed that the world is finally seeing what you’ve seen in Sam all along, but a small part of you is jealous. And that jealousy is starting to eat you alive. 

You sigh, downing the last of your beer before sliding your phone out of your pocket. Scrolling through your contacts, you find Bucky’s name. You listen to the phone ring twice before Bucky answers your call. Concern is evident in his voice as he says your name. You rarely call him this late, but you know you’d talk yourself out of this in the morning. 

“I’ll do it, Buck. Set up the date.”

“It’s about time, kid.”

You spend the rest of your agonizingly slow week second-guessing that phone call. Hell, you almost call Bucky at least a dozen times to cancel the date altogether — to simply state that Bucky’s advice is ridiculous and you’re perfectly fine with your current situation. But, ultimately, you decide this is for the best. If your goal is to get over your absurd crush on Sam Wilson, then you actually need to start working on it. So, even though you’ve managed to worry yourself sick on Friday, you still manage to get yourself ready that evening and leave your apartment. A small smile pulls at your lips as you stand outside the address Bucky texted you several days prior. You’re thankful he chose a casual ramen spot for the blind date. It makes the whole experience a little less high stakes — like you could leave at any time with limited consequences. 

With an exasperated sigh, you finally bite the bullet and pull open the door to the small establishment. The bell above you rings, and you’re greeted by a friendly man behind the counter, telling you to sit wherever you want. You turn towards the quaint dining room and, to your surprise, see a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables. Sam Wilson looks just as surprised as you feel. Your feet move on their own accord as you approach your best friend. He looks nice — clad in a maroon polo and his nicest pair of jeans. 

“What are you doing here, Sam?”

You found it strange that you never received your weekly text from Sam asking you about your Friday night plans. But you concluded that either Bucky told him about your blind date or Sam planned a date for that evening as well. But this was an outcome you never expected.

“Bucky set me up on a blind date with one of his friends.”

Your brow furrows at Sam’s confession.

“Bucky set me up on a blind date with one of his friends.”

Sam looks at you as if you’re speaking a different language, and embarrassment washes over you as you realize that you’re right: Bucky Barnes only has two friends, and they’re currently looking at each other stupidly in a family-owned Ramen joint. Anger rushes through your veins as the realization sets in, but Sam still looks dumbfounded.

“So, Bucky set us up on a date.”

“Oh.”

You wait for him to continue, but he just sits at his empty table, at a loss for words. Usually, the silence between the two of you is comfortable; however, right now, it's excruciating. You suddenly feel about two inches tall as you stand before Sam. As the room gets twenty degrees warmer and the walls begin closing in, you decide it’s probably best if you get out of here. 

“This was a stupid idea.”

You turn away from Sam, but before you can take a step towards the door, he grabs your hand. The contact causes you to look back at your best friend, whose gaze is surprisingly tender. Your body relaxes ever so slightly, and, against your better judgment, your hand tightens around his. 

“It doesn’t have to be.”

His tone is genuine, but there’s still that voice in the back of your head gnawing at you. There’s no way that your best friend suddenly wants to go on a date with you. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. This isn’t a movie — he hasn’t been waiting almost two decades for this exact moment to express his feelings for you. You keep your expectations low because although Sam is a superhero, this isn’t a fairytale. Still, you let him gently tug your body into the seat across from him. 

“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”

Sam’s brow furrows, and a look of genuine confusion washes over his features. He studies you for a moment before speaking. 

“You think I don’t want to go on a date with you?”

You roll your eyes at his question. This whole conversation is ridiculous, and it’s beginning to feel like Sam and Bucky are pulling a practical joke on you right now. But Sam looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, so you play along even though you aren’t happy about it.

“C’mon, Sam.”

Sam simply arches a brow at you with a bewildered expression, and for a moment, your resolve falters. What if this is real? What if this isn’t some stupid joke between Sam and Bucky? What’s the harm in just letting this moment play out? With a sigh, you look up at Sam, who is still studying your features. 

“Sam, I’m pretty certain that if you were interested in me at any point in the last twenty years, you’d have asked me out by now.”

Sam huffs out a laugh at this, and suddenly, he looks embarrassed. This reaction confuses you. Sam is a confident man — he’s rarely self-conscious about himself or his decisions. 

“Yeah, about that…”

Your heart lurches in your chest as he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he tries to find the right words. And as he meets your eyes, there’s an emotion in his gaze that you can’t quite place. 

“What is it, Sam?”

Sam sighs before speaking.

“This isn’t just platonic for me.”

Suddenly, your world comes to a screeching halt. This feels like an out-of-body experience — like some sort of dream — and you’re pretty sure if you pinched yourself right now, you’d wake up alone in your apartment. But that doesn’t happen. You’re really here with Sam, having this conversation.

“How long have you felt like that?”

Sam looks away from you as he thinks for a moment, wanting to give you an accurate answer.

“After we helped Steve with Hydra in D.C., seeing you in the hospital put things into perspective.”

You were working as a SHIELD pilot for almost two years when Sam went missing with SHIELD’s two most wanted fugitives: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. Because of this, it didn’t take much convincing for you to ignore your orders and help Steve stop the launch of the helicarriers. Bucky, acting as the Winter Soldier at the time, had taken out most of SHIELD’s air support; however, you and a group of four other pilots managed to get your birds into the air. Although the stakes were high, a part of you felt like it was old times — watching Sam soar through the air in his Exo-7 flight suit from the cockpit of your F-35 Lightning II. The fight was going well until Bucky nailed your left wing with a large piece of debris, causing you to go into a downward tailspin. You attempted to stabilize your aircraft but ran out of time. So, you decided to pull your parachute, but to your horror, the cord was stuck. Sam, grounded due to his broken wings, watched helplessly as your fighter slammed into the Potomac River. You were found by search and rescue after the helicarriers were destroyed and woke up in a hospital bed three days later. Recovery was agonizingly slow, but Sam never left your side — except to check on Steve every so often in the room next to yours. The memory brings a small, sad smile to your face.

“That was ten years ago, Sam. What stopped you from telling me?”

“Other than everything that happened after that? You’re my best friend — I didn’t want to risk that.”

You suppose he’s right. There was rarely a moment of downtime after you recovered from your fall into the Potomac River. The two of you immediately threw yourselves into helping Steve track down Bucky, and just two years later, all four of you were wanted fugitives due to the Sokovia Accords. Between the years you spent living on the run and the years you lost to the blip, there was rarely a quiet moment until Thanos was finally defeated — until now. 

“For me, it was after Riley.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up at your confession, obviously not expecting for you to have fallen first. But, despite his excitement at this revelation, he stays quiet, letting you continue if you want.

“After losing him, I couldn’t help imagining it being you who got shot down that day. The idea haunted me in my nightmares, and I realized that if I lost you, it would be a different kind of grief.” 

Sam’s face softens, and he reaches across the table for your hand. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, grounding you back into this moment before speaking.

“You never have to worry about losing me.”

You scoff at his words, giving him an incredulous look.

“You’re Captain America, Sam. Running head first into danger is your job.”

“Okay, fair. But I have a very compelling reason to stay alive.”

You laugh, attempting to cover up how flustered you feel due to Sam’s words. It doesn’t work. Sam smiles as he notices the effect his words have on you. He could get used to this — flirting with you until you’re bright red and stumbling over your words. It’s undeniably cute, and he can’t believe it’s taken him this long to do it. 

After your emotionally charged conversation, you both need something to eat. The two of you both order ramen, and Sam doesn’t let go of your hand until two bowls are set down on the table. You enjoy your meal while Sam occasionally nudges his knee playfully into yours under the table before offering you a flirtatious smile. The conversation that flows between you doesn’t feel forced or uncomfortable — it feels both familiar and somehow brand new. The two of you had been navigating the grey area between romantic and platonic for so long that it feels almost liberating to look at Sam and know his true intentions. 

After Sam pays the bill, giving the establishment's owner a generous tip, the two of you fall into step with one another as you walk toward your apartment. The walk isn’t drastically different from the thousands you’ve taken before. Sam still slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side — except this time, you move your hand up and intertwine your fingers. He still walks up the stairs with you to your apartment, unlocking the door with the key you gave him ages again — except this time, he leads you by the hand up all five flights. And he still moves through your apartment as if it were his, opening your fridge to grab two beers and rifling through your junk drawer to find the bottle opener he knows is in there — except this time, as he places the beers behind you, he doesn’t move away. Instead, he keeps his hands on the counter, one on either side of your body, caging you in. His expression is soft, illuminated by the lone fluorescent light in your small kitchen. And there’s an adoration in his gaze that makes you feel lighter than air.

Steve’s words, from what feels like a lifetime ago, ring in your ears as you look up at Sam Wilson, who stands just a breath away: "As the world's expert on waiting too long, don't."

Tired of waiting, you grab Sam by the front of his polo and pull him into you, locking your lips with his as your chests bump into each other. It’s not a picture-perfect kiss; it’s a little sloppy and frantic, but it’s the type that makes up for the twenty years you spent dancing around your feelings for one another. Eventually, you break away from each other. Sam rests his forehead against yours, and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen graces his face — the man looks like sunshine incarnate as he studies your features.

“I should have done that ten years ago.”

The laugh that escapes you is melodic — a goddamn symphony to Sam’s ears. And he can’t help but kiss you again. And again. And again. In an attempt to make up for lost time and to prove to you, this was never just platonic.