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landinoandco · 3 years

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|Shutter speed|

Chapter two : A New Beginning

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none :) apart from a mention of grief and passing of a loved one

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2.9 k

A/n: welcome to the second chapter of 'Shutter speed.'

I'm going to start a taglist so comment on this post or message me if you would like to be added :)

Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two: A new beginning

By the time Georgie had raced home, it had stopped raining and the sun was beginning to fight its way through the mass of clouds that had filled the sky. The journey home had given Georgie plenty of time to think - to mull everything over about the crazy afternoon she had just endured. They had finally booked their first event since lockdown, the insanely attractive stranger she had met in the coffee shop but somehow it all ended back to a person she thought she had finished thinking about - not that you ever could. Her Theo. Her lovely Theo.

Theodore was her childhood sweetheart. Theo was everything to her, llike Georgie was everything to him. They had their whole future planned out: travelling around the world and experiencing different cultures, photographing their entire experience and showcasing the beginning of their journey through life on an Instagram they had set up. Before settling down and starting a family of their own. Together. It was going to finish like all the fairy tales did...

And everybody lived happily ever after.

In hindsight, they had jinxed themselves before they had even started, not long after they had finished their A - levels and about to start their next chapter at Uni - Theo had fallen ill. Georgie refuses to acknowledge the illness for she believes it shouldn’t be the way he is remembered, instead reminiscing on the short but meaningful life he lived. Theo died not long after he was diagnosed, leaving Georgie behind with a new and tainted meaning to happily ever after because if it wasn’t with him then what did it truly mean?

As they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Even now, 5 years on, 23 years of age, she is still plagued with the memories and the thoughts of everything they could have had but for some reason the universe was against it all. She hated to think of herself as unlucky because she was blessed to have met Theo in the first place.

Shaking the memories from her head, she unlocked the apartment door and trudged through - hanging her coat and bag on the hooks then making her way over to the breakfast bar. On top was a fluorescent post-it note that read: “Popped into the city to pick up some new lenses for the cameras. Fill you in when I get back. Fancy getting a takeaway tonight to celebrate? Love you lots ~ Maisie.”

A takeaway was exactly what was needed. She thought. And a nice warm shower.

The thing Georgie loves about showers is that they give her the ability to find an answer and solution to pretty much everything and anything. She spent a lot of time in the shower after Theo passed, it was the only thing she could justify enjoying. Striping her clothes off and chucking them into a pile on the floor, she reached into the shower to turn it on - the water immediately rushing out and crashing loudly onto the floor. As soon as she was happy with the temperature, she stepped in - letting the warm water droplets wash all of her worries away. It was the only thing that she felt helped her relax; come to terms with everything she was feeling.

Her first and main worry was what they were going to do after Goodwood. If they didn’t find consistent work soon they were going to run out of money - they were lucky to have made some good investments and savings leading up to this point to have coped through lockdown.

Georgie grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it thoroughly through her long waves. She had been to Goodwood a few years back - Theo had taken her. It was the best date she had ever been on - she remembered it as clear as day. They had found an empty bench to sit on next to the hill the cars climbed in the ever popular annual hill climb - it was there and then they had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and travel the world.

Stepping back under the water, she let the water take the shampoo away, watching as the bubbles slipped through the drain. Theo had been a massive formula one fan - dragging Georgie into the sport as well. Jenson Button had been his favourite driver and McLaren his favourite team so naturally that was hers as well. As soon as he passed Georgie had nothing to do with the sport - she refused to watch it and stopped keeping up with the teams.

She reached for the conditioner bottle, pressing her lips together in a tight line. All of this thought about Theo and the racing world she turned her back on - a slight regret forming in the pit of her stomach, was she ready to go back to it? She remembered the atmosphere of Goodwood when she had been, people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the one thing they had in common: their love for cars. She was slightly envious of the people who got to travel the world, following in the car's tyre tracks and capturing the moments you only get to experience once in a lifetime.

Georgie paused and furrowed her eyebrows, she was struck with an idea. Whether it was absolutely brilliant or outright stupid and unrealistic, she was yet to find out. Hoping out of the shower and grabbing her towel, she made her way to her room. It was worth a look, she supposed, there was no harm in that. Once she was dressed, she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop; begging fate to be on her side today.

“Honey, I’m home.” Called a voice from the kitchen.

“Hey sweetie.” Georgie shouted back, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

She pulled up the McLaren careers page, her mouse hovering over the view jobs link. Georgie was ready to travel the world. She was ready to experience life again - after all it was Theo’s dying wish that she completed everything they were setting out to do. Perhaps she was selfish for not coming to this conclusion sooner.

She clicked.

Taking one last deep breath, Georgie placed her hands to her forehead and moved her face closer to the screen as she read through the roles. Tyre performance engineer. No. Finance analyst - production. Definitely not. Hope was diminishing rapidly even though it was as she had expected. The chances of finding anything suitable were low. She was coming to the bottom of the list when a role jumped out at her. But not impossible apparently.

Lead photographer - team.

And the deadline was Tuesday at 11.59 pm. They had the best part of 6 hours to complete this application. It was going to be tight but possible.

She jumped up and rubbed her hands over her face in disbelief. Running her hands through her hair, she sat back down - hardly being able to keep still. It was only an application advert - many people were going to be applying. She thought as she exhaled loudly. More experienced people. Skimming through the description and requirements, she almost felt like she was dreaming. It was perfect. The role was to travel with the whole team and capture every moment to later be used on social media and advertising.

“Everything alright in here?” Maisie poked her head around the door. She was faced with an almost tearful Georige. Her words almost trailed off.

“Do you want to travel the world?” Georgie asked her, her voice wavering slightly. Maisie seemed taken aback as she moved into the room and sat on Georgie’s bed. “I’m sorry - what? Have you forgotten what’s been going on recently?”

“With a formula one team, Mclaren to be precise.” Georgie corrected and moved aside so Maisie could see the screen. Silence fell between the pair as Maisie read on, Georgie’s leg had started bouncing in anticipation. Minutes later she was met with a frown. “That’s not quite how I had imagined you would react.” Georgia mumbled, sighing. She mirrored her friend's expression, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Before we start fantasizing, I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.” Maisie said softly, taking one of Georgia’s hand in hers. Georgia nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over her friend’s hand. “This would be his dream. I know he’s watching us - he really is looking out for us, Maise. I want to do it for him.”

Maisie’s smile grew, “As long as you’re sure. Come, let’s discuss it over take away and I will explain how this weekend is going to work.” Georgie stood up, grabbing her laptop and a notebook, “One thing is for sure. We are going to need one hell of a portfolio.”

It was now Sunday - the final day at Goodwood.

To say the rest of their week leading up to this point went smoothly would be a lie. In the end it all got a bit complicated. They submitted their application at 10:58 pm that Tuesday evening - due to it only being a singular role they applied as their business in hope that the combined experience would set them apart from other candidates. Wednesday they spent the day prepping for Goodwood - trying out the new lenses and practising photographing cars they found around London. They were going to watch the Goodwood livestream on Youtube Thursday and Friday to see what they were going to be faced with that Saturday. Until Maisie received a call. It was Mclaren and they had gotten through to the interviews - all taking place that Thursday afternoon on teams. As it turns out, they wanted to have hired someone for the role by Friday in order to be ready for the British Grand Prix the following weekend.

“I mean it makes sense,” Maisie said, blowing her coffee to cool it down before taking a long sip. “It is their home grand prix after all.”

Georgie chuckled, “It’s just, I feel like if we were to explain to anyone they would think we were making this up. It’s all happening so quickly.”

That Friday, ahead of their debut at Goodwood on the Saturday, they got the call. According to the lady Maisie spoke to, it was very close between them and another candidate but the fact they were working at Goodwood tipped the scales in their favour.

“And.” Maisie started. “We are going to meet with a man called Zac Brown on Sunday, he is the CEO of McLaren Racing-” Georgie was very lucky to have Maisie as she was the businessman - or women in this case - out of the pair. Her people skills were unmatched, how she did it Georgie would never understand.

Now on Sunday, Georgie was quite sad to see it coming to an end. The atmosphere was one that she had never quite experienced before - it was one that filled her with pride and adoration; something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not to this extent anyway. The whole weekend, a beaming smile had been plastered onto her face - so much so that her facial muscles were beginning to ache. The whole community of people were ecstatic to be there, watching on in excitement as a sport that had missed the company of their crowds opened its doors once again. It wasn’t long before she had agreed to meet with Maisie ahead of their meeting with Zac Brown that she found herself walking up the infamous hill. The loud buzz of conversation seemed to fade, instead the only sound she could hear was the rumble of engines as they came cruising by. She stopped at a clearing where a bench stood proudly, smiling softly to herself as she slung her camera strap over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets. It hadn’t aged a day.

Lando Norris had decided to take a break from the main McLaren marquee - he had just finished his final drive of the day and was looking for some time to reflect on the weekend he had just had after having the honour of driving the three cars that Aryton Senna won McLaren their championship titles. It had been a tough season leading up to this point - after Carlos left to join Ferrari he felt this year all eyes would be on him. Many expected Lando to fall into the shadow of his new teammate Daniel Ricciardo, everybody expected him to fade back into the background. Perhaps that was why he trained so hard during the winter break - he had pushed himself right up to the limit. Lando wanted to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was a good driver and he did have potential to fight those at the top, after the taste of a podium in Austria - he was hungry for more. Even as a young boy during his karting career, Lando put pressure on himself - to strive to be the best on the grid - sometimes it meant he forgot to enjoy himself because he was so worried about what other people thought about him.

He had reached a clearing past the trees. All weekend he had kept half an eye out for the girl at the coffee shop. Part of him was disappointed not to have seen her, he really wanted that second chance. He came to a stop and checked his watch - it wasn’t long until Zac wanted him back; he mentioned briefly about a pair of photographers joining the team. They would be replacing his friend Jason after he decided that travelling just wasn’t practical anymore, who could blame him, his first child was on the way and he wanted to be there with his wife every step of the way.

Lando brushed a hand through his curls, casting his gaze around before he would make his way back. When a bench caught his eye or more specifically the girl sitting on the bench. She sat with a content smile dancing on her lips, a reminiscent glaze coated her eyes. He took a step towards her, there was something familiar about her. It was like his feet were frozen in place - his brain was telling him to go back but his gut told him to stay put. He stood for a minute or two before it hit him - square in the face and quite frankly he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the girl from the coffee shop. Right in front of him. It was now or never. Lando took a calming breath before going and sitting next to her.

Georgie was rudely pulled from her thoughts when a person sat down on the bench next to her. She moved her head slightly to see who the intruder was when her heart stopped. Recognition dawned on her face. Georgie knew instantly he had recognised her as the corners of his mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Hi.” His tone silvery and almost breathy.

“Hey.” She beamed back, “I’m Georgie.” She said, gazing up at him, admiring the way the sun caught around his halo of curls giving them an almost angelic glow.

“Lando.” He told to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Neither of them could quite believe that they were sitting with each other.

“I - uh - It’s a wonderful day for it, isn’t it.” Georgie had panicked. She didn’t know what else to say and her mother used to always say: ‘if in doubt talk about the weather.’ It was something along those lines anyway. Silently cursing herself, she cringed at her awkwardness only to hear him chuckle at her comment.

“It’s much better now the rain has cleared off.” Lando instantly felt relaxed around her, he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was that she seemed just as socially inadequate as he was. “So Georgie.” He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. “What brings you to Goodwood? I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I heard you talking about it before you rushed off the other day.”

Georgie inched closer, almost leaning into the comfort and warmth he seemed to provide. “My friend and I are photographers and she somehow got us into working for the Goodwood Festival of Speed brand. I still don’t quite know how she did it, for some reason she didn’t want to talk about it.” She trailed off, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks as she had come to a rather astonishing conclusion. The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted at her innocence. “Anyway.” She moved on quickly. “As it turns out I am also here to meet my new boss.”

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” Lando quirked. “Who are you working for now?”

“I’m the new photographer for the McLaren formula one team.” She explained, pride laced in her tone. Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open in disbelief before he caught himself. Composed his expressions and stated very plainly...

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for the McLaren formula one team. As it turns out you and I are about to attend the same meeting.”

Taglist: (please message me or leave a comment if you would like to be added :))

@mjuikoli @httplayer @phatyak

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

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champagne problems, ch.11

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eleven: I Know It’s Over: Things get a little more clearer as you deal with the pain Spencer caused. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication, serious serious angst, this whole series is a real slow burn.

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A/N: everyone go thank @ellesgreenaway for getting me out of my writing rut just in time to get this chapter done! and as always, i wanted to reiterate how fucking grateful i am that y'all are reading, and liking, this little story! it means the world to me! also, i didn't reread this so there may some mistakes ill fix later, sorry!!

People love weekends. They’re like a mini holiday. A break from the tedious and repetitive cycle that is Monday to Friday. Weekends are time spent away from the office, your profession and whatever that entails. They are time spent away from completing menial tasks. A break.

Saturdays and Sundays help regain all of the lost energy. When people get caught up in everyday life, weekends remind them to enjoy the simple things. They gives the opportunity to try new things, visit family and friends, or allow to simply spend some time alone. People love weekends.

Your weekend however, was an utter blur.

Aiding a killer hangover on Saturday, you opted to spend the day in bed. A plastic bucket within your reach and a bottle of water on the side table. You slept a lot. Partially to ease the headache, but mainly to ease the pain you were experiencing in your chest. The heartache.

The only thing you could remember from the night before was Spencer completely shattering your hopes and dreams, and the first six shots of tequila you took after at a nearby bar. You weren't entirely sure how you got home; the next morning Ethan clarified he picked you up after the bartender rang him using your phone. Not one of your proudest moments.

Your lack of motivation carried onto Sunday. The grief you were experiencing was not unfamiliar, after all Spencer’s broken up with you before. Although this time the agony that accompanied it felt a lot more intense. You couldn't move, or eat, or even shower. You were frozen. Stuck to the bed as if it was your only lifeline.

Thankfully Ethan was working both days. In your eyes, he was too preoccupied to notice something was wrong. Unbeknown to you however, he knew exactly the reason behind your melancholy.

The weekend soon ended, almost as soon as it began. Monday morning rolled around and with it the encouragement to get out of bed. Not like you wanted to. If you had it your way, you would never leave the comfort and safety of your duvet again. You knew however, you couldn't stay home without at least some of your colleagues questioning your absence, asking what was wrong. No. It was time to face reality.

Time to face Spencer.

The brunette doctor was sat at his desk. He arrived to work today earlier than usual, about four hours early to be exact. He made his usual cup of coffee and since then he hasn't moved an inch, just staring silently at his phone.

It wasn't something he done often, honestly he only carried the thing around for work purposes. But something happened that he couldn't quite get over.

On Saturday morning, Spencer woke up to a message left on his voicemail. A message from you.

At first it was hard to decipher what you were saying, or rather what you were mumbling. Between the drunken hiccups, slurred speech, and obnoxious background noise, Spencer initially thought it was a butt dial. It must have been, right? He was after breaking your heart for a second time, why would you leave him a voicemail?

However, hearing your melodic tone just saying his name, prompted Spencer to listen to the message again. It was then he really heard the distorted words coming out of your mouth.

“Spencerrrrrr, I uh I don't believe yo-ou. I know-w in uh my hearrrt-t you d-didn't mean it.” Hiccup. “P...p-please let’ssss forgetuh abo-ut it.” Hiccup. “I-I love youh-uh anddd I kno-ow you love meeee. I jussst kno-w.” Hiccup. “I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

The message cuts off and he’s left dumbfounded.

Blood drained from his face. The voicemail registered in his brain and he suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous even. His hands began to tremble in his lap, and he swore if he wasn't sitting down he would have fainted.

By Monday, Spencer had listened to the voicemail a painstakingly two-hundred and eleven times. He had it memorised, and yet he kept playing it over and over again just to hear your voice.

As he sat at his desk, waiting for his colleagues to arrive, he wondered whether you remembered sending it. Truthfully, he hoped you didn't. It would be easier to move on that way - as if moving on from you was an option.

The glass door opened and he heard a faint sound of footsteps walk across the bullpen. Footsteps Spencer would honestly recognise anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up from his phone and slightly turned his head, his gaze landing on you.

The air caught in Spencer’s throat, the voicemail instantly replaying in his head.

He wondered what you were thinking. Simply by looking at you he could tell you were in pain. Pain he caused, and he hated himself for it. Having spent countless hours over Saturday and Sunday rethinking the situation, he knew he made a mistake. He should have never given into Ethan’s smug demands. And even if, he should have told you what happened. Leave the choice up to you, as it was in the first place.

It was too late now to fix this, Spencer knew even if you remembered sending the voicemail you wouldn't listen to what he had to say anyway. Selfishly, he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to gaze into your eyes as the drunken message replayed in his mind yet again.

And although you could feel his eyes on you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his stare. No. The heartache would only intensify. This was a mistake. You should have stayed home. With a blank expression, you placed your bag on your desk and hurried in the direction of the office kitchenette.

Spencer on the other hand followed you with his gaze. Every fibre of his being screamed to follow you, to talk to you. But he was completely frozen and remained glued to his own chair. Once again, a true display of cowardliness.

By lunch time, the whole team picked up on the odd dynamic between you and the handsome doctor. Two people that spent every waking moment together were no longer speaking to one another. It didn't take a profiler to see something was wrong.

You hid in Penelope’s lair with the bubbly blonde and Tara. Enjoying a couple minutes of peace away from the prying eyes of everyone you worked with, most importantly however, away from Spencer.

“So chicken, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Garcia enquired, taking a mouthful of her lunch. “Because a blindman could see something is off, and don't you dare telling me I’m delusional or something.”

“Penelope is right, Y/N. Last time you were this silent and upset was when Spencer was in prison.”

You let out a deep sigh at the sound of his name. It was no use hiding your feelings from them, they would figure it out eventually. Plus these were the people you trusted more than anything in the world. If you couldn't tell them, then who could you tell what was going on?

“It’s something similar.” You mumbled, avoiding their gaze. “Just much much worse this time...”

“Well whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re here for you.” Penelope chimed, and reached out her hand to grab yours. She gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, exactly. We will support you through anything, you know that.” Tara added nodding along.

You sniffled. What were becoming all too familiar tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you would break down at any given second. Taking in a long breath, you began to tell the two girls everything that’s happened since your engagement. They listened attentively, never turning their attention away from you. As they listened, they both held your hands and took turns whispering ‘it’s okay’ or ‘take your time’.

“I’m going to kill our resident genius. He won't know what’s coming.” Penelope murmured after you finished in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly upwards as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked after a congenial moment of silence.

“Ehm...” You cleared your throat. “S-Spencer wants nothing to do with me, but uhm... I after everything I c-can’t, I just can't be with Ethan. I can’t-t.”

The girls both nodded their heads, and even though they understood exactly what you meant by what you were saying, you still felt like you had to say the words aloud. For your own sake.

“So, uhm, I-I’m going to break up with Ethan. I-I’m going to end the engagement.” You stated, and even though your heart still ached, you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt free.

And I know it's over - still I cling I don't know where else I can go

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid story #spencer reid songfic #spencer reid x reader

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 1 of 2) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

Temmiefied Version

Alternate Chapter Title(s): Stand by Me (no duh) or The Corny One With A Song Title Reference, Part 1

• • •

The shopping district’s as busy as the roads you’ve just driven by; food courts are the most bustling with the hour your phone marks: ten minutes past noon. Contraire to her punctual self, Brenda’s running late, though you settle for waiting ten more before sending her a message. You sit by an empty booth and take the last chair available in the row to avoid disturbing those who’re already eating. Then, you pull your planner out and skip through a few pages until you find the right one. Aside from your usual schedule, you had her visiting again this Friday, a meeting with Toriel regarding some plans she wanted to discuss with you on Saturday, and another one with Sans on Sunday to arrange the second step towards homeschooling Frisk while you enrolled them somewhere else.

It’s still hard to read that last one, not for what it was, but for the fact that almost every school you’d tried to sign them up into declined having other guardians aside from you and Jerry to pick them up. They declined Toriel just as much as they declined Undyne, all due to the new rules and regulations set up in schools since the monsters’ arrival. What Toriel wanted to discuss with you was related to that, though you hadn’t been given too many details as to what it was, exactly. You glance back to your phone to see over ten minutes have passed by already, yet Brenda's nowhere to be seen. You start typing up a message, only to be interrupted by her call; the device almost slips off your hands with how abrupt it is.

“H- Hello?” you answer, catching your breath.

She screams an accusation at you, not an ill-minded one per se, but one questioning over why you’d kept information hidden from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re that close to him already?” she asks, words jarringly loud. You have to turn down the volume despite it not being set on speakerphone. “So he's going to help you with Frisk? That’s serious boyfriend material, honey!”

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

You huff and bring a hand to the side of your neck, tension consuming it. “Alright, Auntie Brenda… Where are you right now? I don’t have much break time left anymore.”

“Just go ahead and eat, dear. I’ll drive over on the weekend.”

Right as you’re about to complain over her choices, she speaks up again, calmer than before.

“Or why not come over after you have lunch there?” she asks, words cooed. “You work close to him, don't you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stay here.” You can’t help feeling a little sour over her suggestion and with the reminder you’ve waited almost half an hour for her at the mall. With the call, it’s now thirty-five minutes past noon, giving you barely sufficient time for you to eat -- let alone listen to her rambling over how she’d misinterpreted your relationship and how Sans was better than she expected him to be. “You didn’t bother him with questions about his job, right?" you add. "He’s-”

“Why would I? He’s working an office job just like you!"

“He, what?”

You can’t avoid blurting that question out; a blank canvas replaces the image of him working at a hot dog stand. You try to imagine him working an office job, but it's near impossible to. Even if he knew plenty on various subjects, the monotonous yet fast-paced ambience of a desk job didn’t quite fit with your view of who the monster was to you.

“He works an office job, honey. Don’t you know where your own boyfriend works?” You can almost hear her shaking her head, disappointment made known through the blatant change in her voice. “Shame on you!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and stand up, too vexed to sit still. “That’s not what I meant, Bre- ...Auntie Brenda,” you say, trailing off on your words. “I just… didn’t know he worked two jobs.”

“He does?!”

You lower the volume once more, Brenda's voice taking up a speakerphone quality to it again. Her tone then grows fainter as she questions the skeleton about the legitimacy of your statement. When her voice turns louder, you figure he’s given her an answer -- one you’ve no clue of. If he had two jobs, then you’re not so sure over how she'll be reacting. And if he didn’t, then you’d inadvertently put him on the spot by letting the truth known, something that didn’t really make sense if he was supposed to be working -- or at the very least, ending his lunch break right now.

Feeling it’s going to take a while, you stand in line at one of the fast-food establishments nearest to you; a growl from your stomach reminds you time’s running out. “So what did he say?” you speak up, knowing she’s getting distracted again.

“He does!” she exclaims, almost in a cheer. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that well-off, then? You should marry him now that you’ve got the chance to.”

“Weren’t you scolding me over the opposite barely a week ago?”

“Maybe so, but that was before I knew him better, dear!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, headache worsening. “Alright, I’m hanging up now. Don’t bother him too much, and stop interrupting his-”

“Wait,” she calls, excitement still there. “Have you ever thought of learning more about monsters? There’s a bunch of workshops going on right now… And I figured you could take one, since you’re dating one and all!”

Nearly the time for you to make your order, you let your tone become sterner, hoping to get your point across. “That… That sounds good and all, but I really need to go now. My lunch break’s almost over.”

Brenda huffs. “Fine.” Her voice comes out dragged, and it’s almost possible for you to hear her pouting. “But we need to talk all about this on Friday!”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

You hang up, slip your phone back in your pocket, and turn to the register when you’re done, right on time to make your order.

• • •

Breathe in, breathe out.

You repeat that sentence along with those actions as you clock out of work, more than ready to relax, but less than capable of with how much you've left to resolve.

Before turning off the computer, you click on your boss's e-mail for a third time today and read it once more.

>> Come to my office as soon as you're done with your shift for the day. I'll be waiting. – Sent from my ayPhone <<

You huff and glance at the pills on your desk. Despite these being given to you by the doctor herself, you're trying not to take them as often as the instructions on the bottle tell you to. You don't want to grow dependent on them, yet -- at the same time -- it's nearly impossible for you to go by your usual routine without having the repercussions of not taking them delay your progress. The side-eyes and looks some of your co-workers offer you on occasion reveal they're not too thrilled by the idea of having someone in your state around, either. Dizziness takes over and your headache worsens; they're enough for your body to finally give in, causing you to stumble out of your desk chair and direct all gazes on you.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's just as impossible trying to ignore everyone, and it's even more difficult trying to stand up without making a complete fool of yourself.

Breathe in, breathe-

A hand's offered out to you; you accept it, yet you refuse to look at the person until you're back to your feet.

When you do look up, you recognize who the person is in an instant. It's the same man Sans had taken a picture with the day you first met. His hair looks different, but his face and clothing style remain the same. His hand stays holding yours until you assure him you're capable of standing straight again, and even then he still has his doubts. A subtle frown shows on his visage, fueled by concern.

"Are you alright, or should I call someone?" he asks, forehead creasing. "That fall looked pretty serious."

"I'm alright," you reply, managing a smile. You're still dizzy, the headache has only grown worse, and having people still looking in your direction doesn't help much with any of that, either. Even so, having him by your side along with a few other, approachable co-workers helps with bringing you back down to earth and allows you to find some more stability before going to meet with your boss.

"Excuse me, (L/N), but…"

You turn to the voice to see a woman -- tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired -- offering you your phone. It takes some time, but you're able to recognize her as one of the few co-workers you spent your lunch break with before Frisk went missing. She's as professional as ever, and her formality still shows subtly through speech, yet it doesn't erase how warm and genuine her tone sounds. "Your phone broke with the fall." She pulls her hand back as soon as you have the device in your hold; her body language reveals she has a hunch in terms of just how 'alright' you really are, and what a twice-broken phone in less than a year could do to your current, physical and mental state alike. "It seems like it still works though, since it was ringing just a minute ago."

"Thank you." You turn it on to view a cracked screen. The update Alphys gave it appears to have made it more durable, based on how minor the damages are compared to the first time it fell. You're capable of unlocking it and even checking your notifications to notice you've got a few unread messages from Brenda and Frisk's school, coupled with a missed call from Sans. That last one is harder to take in. He already knew what hour you clocked out, and he had enough common sense and decency not to call you unless it was an emergency -- unlike Brenda, who didn't really know how to read the room, and Frisk's school, which called only when it was absolutely necessary. "I, uh…" You're not sure on what to do first. Brenda could be easily set aside with what she did during your lunch break, but the same couldn't be said for everything else.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You flinch at the sudden sensation of needles on your forehead and a dizziness so strong and wild, it makes your stomach far too queasy for you to manage with. Still, you combat that feeling by grabbing some gum from your belongings, taking a few, and chewing them all at once. The sharp taste and scent of mint helps wash away nausea, yet the dizziness persists.

"Do you want us to take you home, (L/N)?" the man from earlier asks, sounding more concerned than before. Meanwhile, the woman approaches you with some water, one you accept and drink as quickly as it falls in your hands. They both help sit you down on a different desk chair -- one without wheels to prevent you from falling over again. Most have left, while some stay and try to offer more aid. Your boss stands by the exit, arms crossed, stance firm, and face hard to read with how bad your symptoms have turned. "Or maybe accompany you to the bus stop, at least? You shouldn't drive in these conditions."

"It's…"

Your eyes fall on your phone again, tempted to make a decision.

With your priorities now changed to the subject of your health, you set Frisk's school aside with the knowledge they're with Toriel at this hour and forget about the meeting with your boss, aware she's already seen you from a distance. Only his name remains; truthfully, you'd rather limit how much time you spent with him, knowing what the opposite did to your heart and mind alike. You hesitate and stare blankly for a short while before you click on his missed call. One tap and two rings is all that's needed for you to reach him. It takes a second for you to answer back at him, half as much as it takes for your hand to stop shaking and for your voice to gain a better semblance of strength. It's too late to hang up now -- and his call could likely be an emergency -- so you continue forward with it.

"You don't sound too great. Everythin' okay?"

"About that…"

You share some words with him and refuse to tell him of your situation until he gives you his own reason for calling you at this hour.

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Small but Important™ Q&A regarding healthcare and whether it's American-based or not

To clarify for everyone else possibly having that same doubt, based on a question made by a reader in terms of Chapter Six and Seven's events:

All healthcare/medical attention mentioned in this story is based off my country, meaning it's either free or at the very least, affordable enough that you don't have to choose between an Uber or an overpriced weewoo vehicle in case of a medical emergency.

For example: I pay only $10 for 4 different medicines I'm meant to take, 3 which are for a lifetime (example: thyroiditis), and the only thing my insurance doesn't cover is optometry, which is around $300 to $500 a year for a full exam and prescription!

Tl;dr: It isn't. There's no debt here so far, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

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#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {18}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: "The one where Nesta explodes.” Sorry, friends.

“How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall? ― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

“To Feyre and Rhys!” Mor called, lifting her glass to the middle of the table, where it met Feyre’s, Elain’s, and Amren’s. “I can’t believe you’re getting married to my cousin. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She sighed, and Elain beamed from beside her.

“We’re so happy for you both,” she promised.

Feyre grinned. It had been a week since Rhysand proposed, and now, on Saturday night, the girls had all decided to go out to celebrate, leaving the boys at home.

“Speaking of happiness, I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time at Azriel’s,” Feyre said, eyeing Elain. “At night.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she rolled her eyes.

“Every night but one,” Mor muttered, and when Amren’s brows rose, she clarified, “Azriel stayed at her townhouse last Saturday night and came home Sunday looking very, very happy.”

Feyre slammed her glass down on the table. “You had sex?”

Elain groaned, hiding her face. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me.”

“Definitely had sex,” Amren muttered, grinning, as she took a sip from her glass.

“Yes,” Elain breathed, face as red as a tomato. “We did. Now, let’s move on.”

“How is he?” Mor asked. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years, but he’s, you know, never clarified.”

“Is it big?” Feyre asked, brows wiggling.

“I vote there’s more in girth than in length,” Amren followed.

Mor howled. “True.”

All eyes shot to Mor.

She blinked. “What? I’ve lived with the guy on and off for years, and if his morning wood is any indication, Amren’s not wrong.”

Elain shook her head, unable to control her laughter. “As much as I love this discussion, I vote we move on.”

“Okay, okay, moving on,” Feyre said, laying her palms flat on the table. “As soon as you tell us if we’re right or not.”

Elain took a deep breath. “Fine…...Yes to girth, now, moving on.”

Feyre fell into Amren, tears coming out of her eyes at her sister’s embarrassment - her sweet, gentle sister.

“Be glad I’m not asking you the same questions,” Elain said, downing her glass.

“Oh, I’ll happily answer,” Feyre chuckled. “Hell, Rhys will happily answer. He likes to brag.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Yes, but every word that comes out of his mouth while he brags is complete bullshit. Besides, talking about my cousin’s penis physically makes me ill.”

Once their laughter died down, and Feyre promised not to mention anything about Rhysand’s dick, she looked to Amren.

“How’s Cass?”

Amren’s brows furrowed. “Oh, you mean after he spent the night in jail for beating up a bar full of people?” She shrugged. “He’s been decent. Goes to work, comes home, drowns himself in whiskey, and does it all again the next day. At least Bryaxis is there. Cassian keeps his cool with Ax next to him.”

“Because of Nesta?” Elain asked, surprised.

Amren shrugged. “He won’t talk about it, but she hasn’t been around and he lies awake at night cursing her name, so I assume so.”

“You’d think he was in love with her,” Feyre said, then stilled. “Holy fuck, he’s in love with her. Nesta. Of all people.”

“I don’t understand what the fascination is, myself,” Mor muttered.

Elain nodded, slowly. “I love Nesta, but she insists on making herself miserable at every opportunity. It’s been that way since we were in high school. Self destruction without a cure.”

Feyre knew that Elain was thinking of her own issues with depression, with thoughts of suicide lingering in the back of her mind. Feyre had been there, too. So had Mor. And Amren. But Nesta was a different breed...it never went away. And she wanted it to remain, that depression. She held onto it, craved destruction.

Nesta was so much like their mother.

Feyre couldn’t help but be pissed off, though. She had led Cassian on, had let him feel something - Cassian, who never felt anything serious about a woman. Cassian, with his uncontrollable anger living alongside his will to bring joy to everyone around him. Nesta had taken advantage of him, and Cassian was living through the aftermath.

“I saw that guy the other day, too,” Amren went on. “Tomas.”

Elain stilled as Feyre’s eyes snapped to Amren. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s back, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Basically lives there now.”

Feyre was already grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth. Elain wasn’t moving, was staring at the table, hands shaking.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, hesitantly.

“To Nesta’s. Come on.”

~~~~~

Nesta was sitting on her couch, staring at the blank t.v. when a pounding came on her door. She opened it a minute later and her sisters rushed in, Feyre first, Elain trailing after.

She sighed. “And what do I owe to this unexpected surprise?”

“Where is he?” Feyre asked, eyes narrowed. “Tomas.”

“Not here,” Nesta mumbled, shutting her door behind her. Her head was light, mind blurry. She was having trouble keeping herself upright. “Came to say hello?”

“Amren said he’s been around,” Elain said, quietly.

Nesta knew they would find out, eventually, but she hadn’t thought they would come storming into her apartment on a Saturday night.

“Why do you care?” Nesta asked. “I’m busy-”

“Cut the shit,” Feyre snapped, and met her sister’s eyes.

Nesta figured it was her fault, she was the one who had told Feyre, who had told Elain. The night Rhysand had been taken to the hospital, when Nesta had driven her youngest sister to the place where their mother had taken her final breath. She had found Feyre, while they were all waiting for Rhysand to wake up, and tried to bring her a little bit of comfort.

“You’re lucky to have Rhysand,” Nesta had said, sitting next to her sister in the hospital’s cafeteria, as she sipped on a cup of coffee. “I know you love him. He loves you, too.”

“Speaking of love...this whole thing with Cassian…” Feyre had started, avoiding having to talk about Rhysand, no doubt. “What’s really going on? What happened with Tomas?”

Nesta had shrugged. “Don’t know. He just left. It was for the best, anyways. He was who I got my drugs from, and nothing more.”

Feyre had stilled. “I thought you were done with that shit.”

“I’m trying,” Nesta had promised, hoping to bring her sister comfort. “It’s easier now that he’s gone. When Tomas is around, he gives it to me and I can’t say no.”

Feyre nodded, reaching across the table to grab her sister’s hand. It was the first conversation they’d had in a long, long time. “And when Cassian is around?”

Nesta snorted. “Cassian is….When Cassian is around, he makes me want to live. And I haven’t felt the want to live for as long as I can remember.”

“Where are they?” Feyre asked, voice hard, bringing Nesta back to the present.

“Where are what?” she asked, innocently.

Elain didn’t speak.

She simply watched, tears in her eyes.

Fear in her eyes.

“The drugs,” Feyre hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta snapped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Feyre said, shaking her head. She walked into the kitchen and started digging through drawers, throwing shit around. “I can tell you’re high off your ass right now!”

When Feyre found nothing there, she went into Nesta’s bedroom.

Nesta was close behind. “Get out of my fucking apartment.”

But Feyre had already dug around, was already pushing Nesta out of the way and strutting into the bathroom.

She opened the top drawer.

Nesta was standing in the doorway, hands shaking.

Feyre pulled out everything. Bottles upon bottles of pain pills, and a packet of fine, light brown powder.

“Fucking heroin?” Feyre breathed, looking slowly at Nesta. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nesta tried to snatch it from her sister’s hand, but Feyre was sober, and much, much faster. She took everything into her hands and shoved it into her bag before brushing past Nesta.

Nesta quickly followed her back into the living room. “Fuck you!”

“Did mom’s death mean nothing?” Feyre yelled, and Elain was crying, and the fact that Elain was crying made Nesta feel like shit. “How could you do this after mom fucking died from it!”

Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound coming from Elain’s quiet sobs.

Nesta took a step toward her sister. It took everything in her to keep her voice steady as she said, “Maybe I wanna die, too.”

Feyre stilled and she closed her eyes, jaw locked. Then, she started shaking her head. “Don’t say that shit.”

“You wanna know the truth?” Nesta asked, arms outstretched. “You wanna know the fucking truth, Feyre? Well, here I am! So shut the fuck up and listen if you wanna know the fucking truth!” Her hands were shaking, her head pounding. She took another step toward her youngest sister, “I envy mom for taking too much shit that day. She got to leave this shitty world that day, and me? I’m still stuck here! No matter what I do! I’m here, living in this endless hell!”

Feyre said nothing. She stared at her sister, jaw hard, eyes lined with tears.

Nesta was breathing hard. She felt like shit. Felt like shit that her sisters were crying, felt like shit that she was never there for them. She felt like shit because the only thing keeping her from feeling like shit, all the fucking time, was the drugs. She felt like shit because she relied on them, felt like shit because it was the only reason she kept Tomas Mandray around. She felt like shit because her mom left them all, because she loved the drug too much, so much that she couldn’t stop, so much that it killed her, took her away from her husband, her daughters.

Nesta felt like shit because Cassian didn’t make her feel like shit.

But he deserved better.

At least she had done right by him.

“You don’t have to live like this,” Feyre whispered, and took her oldest sister’s face into her hands. “You don’t deserve this.”

Lie.

It was a lie.

A lie that had been told to Nesta many times, one she wasn’t sure she could ever believe to be true.

“I deserve worse,” Nesta countered, feeling nothing.

Feyre’s forehead fell into Nesta’s. “You deserve the world, if only you’d let yourself have it.”

~~~~~

“You’re fucking drunk.”

Cassian chuckled as Azriel shook his head. Yes, Rhysand was undoubtedly drunk and loving every minute of it. It was getting late, though, and Azriel, as the guardian of a four-year-old who would be up at the crack of dawn, needed to get some sleep.

“Alright,” Cassian laughed, slipping on his shoes before throwing Rhysand’s shoes at him. “I’ll walk you home before I head home.”

Rhysand let his shoes hit him in the abdomen before frowning. “Is Feyre home yet? I love Feyre.”

“I know,” Cassian muttered. “Put on your shoes and we’ll go see.”

“But shoes make my feet feel trapped,” Rhysand said, staring at his shoes. “Why would I want that for my toes?”

Azriel was laughing as Cassian picked up Rhysand’s shoes. “Then I’ll carry them and you can go in your socks.

“Good,” Rhysand slurred, stumbling toward the door.

“Text me when he’s safe inside of his apartment, please,” Azriel begged.

Cassian promised he would as the two went out into the cool, Summer night. Rhysand jumped as his phone began to ring. He searched his body helplessly before Cassian, laughing, pulled it out Rhysand’s pocket and answered.

“Hello? Rhysand’s phone.”

“Your hand touched my dick, asshole!” Rhysand yelled.

And Feyre laughed on the other end. “Sounds like a good time over there.”

“Your future husband and the father of your children is a drunken mess, but don’t worry, I’m walking him home.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, voice quiet. “Can you tell him I won’t be home tonight?”

“Sure,” Cassian said, dragging Rhysand by the arm, down the sidewalk, as he stared up at the moon with wide, violet eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just at Nesta’s-” As if remembering who she was talking to, her words trailed off. “I’ll be home in the morning though...if you could let him know.”

“I will,” Cassian said, clearing his throat. “Um, is Nesta alright?”

The line went quiet. Then, Feyre said, “She will be.”

“Did Tomas hurt her?” he asked, unable to stop the question from coming out of his mouth.

“Tomas isn’t here,” was all she said. “Make sure my fiance gets safely inside of our house, will you?”

Cassian chuckled, although the light never reached his eyes. “You just like any excuse to call him your fiance.”

“True,” Feyre said. “But I mean it. My fiance is a sloppy drunk.”

“Oh, I know,” Cassian said. “I’m walking him up the stairs, literally having to hold his hand.”

Feyre laughed. “You’re a saint. Thanks Cass.”

“Yep,” he said. “Bye.”

He hung up and shoved the phone back into Rhysand’s pocket.

Once he made sure Rhysand was safely inside of his apartment, Cassian left, and before he even walked out of the front door, Rhysand was snoring on the couch.

Cassian climbed into his truck and sat in the silence for a minute.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t get along. Something must have happened, something must have been wrong. Something must have happened.

As Cassian started his truck, his mind began to wander. Then, he just got mad, reminding himself that he shouldn’t care. Nesta had made it very clear that she didn’t want him in her life. And he had told her the same.

Although, when he said it, it had been a lie.

When he pulled up in front of his own building, he had grown tired. Nothing sounded better than making his way up the stairs, closing himself inside of his apartment, and going to sleep.

But when he made it to the second floor landing, Feyre was standing in the middle of Cassian and Nesta’s apartments, holding a bag of-

“What the fuck?” he asked, and when the girls shushed him, he grabbed it out of her hand. “What are you doing with this shit? You can’t just wave it around in the open, shit, Feyre.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was giving it to Mor to flush, idiot.”

“Why do you even have this?” Cassian snapped.

And then it dawned on him.

He looked at Nesta’s closed door and sighed.

Cassian’s hand fell to his side, grabbing the little plastic bag tightly in his hand.

“She’s fine,” Feyre whispered, knowing full well the string of thoughts that were running through his mind. “Me and Elain are going to make sure this shit stays out of her apartment.”

“And Tomas?” Cassian asked, voice low. “Did she get this shit from him?”

When Feyre didn’t answer, Cassian was turning around, to storm off, to beat Tomas’s ass, but Feyre caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. She took his face into her hands, and even though he was a head taller than she was, she made him look down at her.

“You’re going to take that inside and get rid of it,” she whispered. “Then, you’re going to get your ass in bed. Beron’s already pissed he had to pick you for a bar fight this month, don’t make him take you to prison for killing some useless dealer.”

That anger was simmering, was beckoning to be released, but Cassian saw the fear, the exhaustion, in Feyre’s eyes.

He nodded.

Feyre sighed, and kissed his bearded cheek before telling them all goodnight.

“Cass,” Mor whispered, after a moment of him staring at the closed, apartment door across from his. “Come on.”

Amren took his hand, and when he looked at her, she was wearing a small, sad smile. “Time for bed.”

Cassian nodded and, every step he took feeling heavier than the last, he followed Mor and Amren into his apartment.

He sent the drugs down the toilet and threw the bag away, just like Feyre had asked.

But he didn’t go to bed.

Instead, he went to the couch and sat down, Amren on one side of him, Mor on the other.

He should have seen it as a sign. Should have known something was wrong with Nesta, that something wasn’t right. But he had pushed her away, let his anger in and allowed it to cloud his judgement.

Mor and Amren stayed with him. They each laid their heads on his broad shoulders and comforted him, as the night passed him by in utter silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #tacmc aita #modern au

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sardonic-courtney · 4 years

Text

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. P3/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Mention of loss, Spelling mistakes, you go to church?

Around 2500 words.

Let’s Get Coffee.

“Yay thank you” You yelled heading up the stairs to get changed…

Training went well, although you didn’t really do much. Bobby who was still reluctant helped you to shoot inanimate objects and some basic hand to hand combat with no weapons, because in his words “you won’t always have a weapon on you so that’s the best place to start.” You are pretty sure it’s just because he is buying time before the brothers come into town so they can deal with the more athletic training. Not because Bobby wasn’t good, he was but he was quite impatient and not the best Teacher.

Time Skip to the Next Saturday Night brought to you by Juliet.

The last week consisted of a few training lessons here and there, you were starting to get really good with a gun, and to Bobby’s ‘luck’ he did some blade training and you actually weren’t half bad. Right now, you were eating takeaway, 8pm, on the sofa with Bobby watching some old tv show.

“So kid, Winchesters are coming round tomorrow. Want me to pick you up from church to save you walking so you can see the two idjits sooner, I know you miss them”. He said emphasising miss in a teasing manor.

“Oh yeah soo much” You replied rolling your eyes. “But no, I’m good, I’m actually going out after for some coffee”.

“So, you and Lena finally meeting outside of church?”

“Nope”

“Wait so who are you meeting with then? A new boyfriend of yours? If so, I want to meet him first.”

“What? No, I’m not completely sure, just a group of us meeting up after church.”

“What do you mean you don’t know. Who asked you? That old woman that lives next to the church because if so, I wouldn’t go she will just talk everyone’s ear of about her cats”

“No, the Priest actually just to share ideas about the bible after.”

“Right well err have a good time?” He replied unsure

“Thanks Bobby I’m gonna head up now and sort everything out and go to bed”

“Don’t use up all my water, I’ll see you after your coffee, call me if you want a lift.”

“will do, night”

“Night kid.”

*Beep Beep* Your alarm read 8:30 Sunday. You go up and got showered and dressed. You opted for an outfit which made you look good but it was still simple and casual, whether you were trying a bit harder because you were seeing Crowley or because the boys were coming you wouldn’t say. You grabbed an easy snack and decided to take the scenic route as you had 30 minutes to get there and you didn’t want to wait around. You arrived exactly at 9:32 and waited a few minutes before walking in, no sign of Lena anywhere, strange. Your seats however remained empty, so you sat once again on the seconded row back. Just as you received a message.

Lena- Sorry my mums not feeling well so I’ve had to take my brother to football. Hope service is good.

(Y/N)- No problem, have fun at football.

You replied before muting your phone and sliding it away just as Crowley came out.

“Good Morning…………………………………Thank you all for coming. Bless you all and I shall see you next week.”

Looking up at the clock reading 10:30, everyone stood up and headed out the door, you however being unsure of where you were going for coffee waited at the end of the pew, letting other passed. You didn’t really focus on the topic at hand but hoped you could blag your way through the teachings of rich man and Lazarus. As everyone left Crowley once again was behind you smiling.

“(Y/N) how are you?”

“Hi, I’m good thank you, how are you doing?” you reply, once again you feel strangely flustered.

“Better now that’s over and we can go get coffee.”

“Oh yeah about that where are we meeting?”

“I was thinking the little café down 3 blocks over. Small and easy to find a table.”

“Mrs Wolowitz’s?”

“Yes, That’s it”

“I think I know the way; well you better go, and I’ll meet you guys there” You say about to head off.

“I’m sorry love, you must be mistaken I meant just the two of us. If that’s alright”

“Yeah no sorry that more the fine, I just assumed.” You stuttered out. You hadn’t meant to jump to a conclusion but that seemed more likely then just you two going out for coffee. Alone in a small café. Damn it (Y/N) stop thinking again.

“Do you want to follow me in my car? In case you get lost?”

“Oh um.” You awkwardly laughed. “I actually walk here so I’ll get it up on my phone”

“No, no don’t be stupid you’re going in my car.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”

“No come on let’s go.”

The car ride was short and pretty much silent but not awkward. You were nervous but also happy you weren’t going to be stuck with a bunch of old Christians arguing about meanings. Before you got out the car, he took his clerical collar of leaving him in a normal black shirt. You got out, got a table and ordered your drinks, and reluctantly allowed Crowley to pay.

“So, Y/N how did you find todays service?” Crowley asked looking straight at you for an answer.

“Oh um, it was good” you replied suddenly feeling nervous and unsure of how to answer. You were sat in a café, with an attractive Pastor whose stare seemed to go straight through you.

“Anything to add? Any views on the passage?” Crowley said seeming slightly distracted.

“Not really no. Sorry maybe you start an idea and I’ll add?”

“I don’t really have any either, well to be honest with you I would rather get to know you then your views on the bible.”

“Me?” you smiled, this just got better now it’s apparent you probably aren’t going to be sat discussing the bible over the next half hour or so.

“Yes you” he replied a small smile resting on his lips.

“Well what do you want to know?” you didn’t really know what sort of thing to tell him so thought it best to just ask.

“Well how about we play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yes, a game, you know an activity one engages in for fun?” his smile turning slightly into a smirk.

“Oh, thanks I didn’t know what a game was, what sort of game?”

“I ask a question and you ask one back?” he paused “if you would like, if you wanted to sit around and talk about bibles, we could ask biblical ones”

��No normal questions are fine; you can start since I don’t know what games are” you say sarcastically.

Just then the waiter came and delivered your drinks, nodding his head slightly at your companion before he left. You took a sip of your drink as Crowley moved on; this wasn’t what you though this evening would be but it’s definitely an improvement.

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

“(Y/A) {your answer}”

“Why?”

“It just seems perfect. I could see myself walking around and just admiring everything there you know?”

“Well hopefully one day you’ll go.” Crowley took a sip of his steaming drink and returned to looking at you. Really looking at you, it was weird, like he was genuinely interested in what you were saying. “I’ve been a few times and I must say the {landmark} is beautiful to visit.”

“One day I will see it, anyway you seem like you’ve been to loads of places where have you been?”

“Pretty much everywhere, I do enjoy travelling.”

“wow, I wish” you sigh out.

“Do you travel?”

“Not really, when I was younger me and my parents would move around America but that stopped a while ago.”

“Oh, how come?”

“They died so I moved in with my godfather and haven’t left town since, I know if he could we would go but he needs to stay here for work and everything and now I’m blabbing on again sorry.” You said it more as a fact mentally ready for the normal oh I’m sorry and what happened and are you okay to come.

“No don’t apologise I’m interested and I’m sorry to hear about them but your godfather sounds like a good man, and maybe one day you can travel again, maybe even the world, what do you plan on being in the future?”

“Definitely the plan, and I’m not sure yet. What about you have you always dreamed of being a pastor?”

“No, definitely not. I’m only a substitute pastor anyway if there’s such a thing.”

“what do you do then when you’re not?”

“I guess you could say I’m a businessman, I mainly make deals and such.”

“oh, is that why you always travel?” You say looking down at your drink and sipping.

“Exactly why my job requires a lot of popping to places. Now if you will humour me, I’m curious, you go to church but don’t seem completely religious, is that so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but I notice you zoning out during teaching and you just seem… I don’t know how to put it.”

“Well if I’m honest I’m not sure about it really. The whole believing in God thing. I mean I’m sure he’s there, but I don’t think there’s much he can do.”

“So why go?”

“Well my mum used to always take me and well it makes me feel closer to her, I’m sorry if that offends you.”

“Not at all, not at all” he said a slight smirk on his face again.

This was weird, not in a bad way but weird. As the time passed, he started to become even less like a pastor and more like a friend. You continued sharing random stories finding out how he grew up in Scotland and all about his random like and dislikes. He was a nice guy and you no longer felt nervous. Time went by and you both ordered another drink. Now your cups were sitting empty and you were discussing what the best era would be to live through, when your phone beeps.

12:51

Bobby: Hey, hows the discussions going, what time do you think your going to leave I dont know if I can deal with them alone any longer and theyve only been here 3 hours as it is.

You: oh, sorry I didn’t realise the time, um ill finish my drink and leave soon. Tell them I say hi.

You slid your phone into you pocket and looked back up at Crowley. Wow you had been sat talking for over two hours.

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yeah everything is fine just didn’t realise the time. Sorry I’m going to have to go in a minuet I have guests over and completely forgot.”

“No problem, would you like a lift back?”

“I can walk it’s fine.”

“Please at least let me drop you of at the church, I need to pick up some things there anyway.”

“Okay.”

With that the two of you got back into his car and arrived back at the church both getting out and standing in the completely deserted parking lot.

“Thank you for the lift, and the drinks.” You smiled checking you had everything and looking up at him.

“No problem I had a good time, and maybe if you would like I could get your number and we could do it again sometime, get to know each other a bit more, maybe over some food.”

If you didn’t know any better it would sound like a date offer, in fact part of you wishes it had been but pastors don’t date, do they?

“Yeah sounds good today was fun.” You grab your phone pulling up your number.

“I’m sorry that may not have been clear enough” he said looking at your phone and entering your number into his. “I was referring to going out on a date.”

“But you’re a priest?” you blurt out before thinking. Mentally slapping your head.

“A substitute priest love, and like you I don’t hold religion too close to my heart” he said chuckling and putting his phone away.

“Well in that case that sounds great. I better start heading back but text me.”

“I will, safe walk home, if you’re sure you don’t want a lift.”

“I’m sure, goodbye Crowley”

“Goodbye Y/N”

And with that you left. What just happened?

*Times Skip Home*

You walk through the door into the lounge greeted with the boys and bobby drinking beers and talking, coming to a halt when you walked in.

“Y/N, hey how have you been” Sam asks looking up at you smiling. Before you could answer Dean butted it.

“Y/N Bobby here tells us you’ve been out talking about the bible, please tell me you haven’t it’s like half one.”

“Nice to see you to Dean, and no I haven’t I met with a friend. I’m great thank you Sam, how are you?” you reply going to sit down before realising a pair of legs in the way. “Deans move your legs”

Reluctantly he swung them over the coffee table allowing you to sit down.

“Good thank you” you’re not sure if Sam would have continued but bobby spoke up.

“A friend? You said you were meeting with a group of you, lying, now are we?”

“what? No, I just got a bit confused we were going to talk about the service but we got distracted. But what’s more important is what you two have been up to.” You reply casually leaving out the fact you had spent the last two hours with a male and had half planned a date.

“No, what’s more important is you are 18. And we have something for you.” Sam said poking his head around Dean.

“Sammy’s right Dean said pulling something out his duffle bag. It was neatly wrapped and slightly battered around the edges. Sam definitely wrapped it.

“Guys you shouldn’t have.” You said unwrapping it. At first you saw a leather-bound book. It was bound with a rope wrapped around and decorated with a light house on the front.

“Open it up (Y/N/N)” Sam said.

Unwinding the rope, you opened it up to find postcards and pictures from the boys, all in Sam’s writing.

“We, well I thought you could have a journal to note down anything you want its always good to have one. The postcards and stuff are from each of the places me and Dean have been. We knew you wanted to go, and you always want to here stories so I thought it would be a good way to make it seem like you were there.”

“Sam it perfect thank you so much.” You stood up and hugged him before taking a seat back down noticing Dean had a scruffier package in his hand.

Accepting it and opening it Dean began.

“I’m not as thoughtful as Sam but I saw this, and thought would like it.”

It was a rope necklace with a stone on the end. Under the stone was a small piece of card with a handwritten message explaining the stones properties of protection and healing. You read it and put it on twiddling the stone in your fingers (You can change stone to your liking).

“It’s beautiful Dean thank you very much” you say leaning over to hug him.

“I’m glad” he says pulling back smiling.

The evening goes on, you order food and joke with each other, Bobby leaving to go to bed and the three of you falling asleep sprawled out on the couch and armchair around 11pm

Wow that was long and mainly build up, but don’t worry romance will be in the next one. I hope you enjoyed this though, thanks for reading.

#crowley #Crowley Supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley x y/n #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #xreader

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Part 1

Summary: Having figured out previously where Rumlow has taken Katie, it’s now a race against time for The 4 Avengers to reach her before it’s too late. Armed with…yeah…ok, actually, we’ll let you read that bit because frankly this entire chapter is ridiculously fun!!!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: LONG update here guys so we split it into 2 for you to read as you wish. I know we said Episode 15 was the penultimate chapter but we had too much to cram in so…THIS is the Penultimate chapter! Episode 17 will be the last, followed by an Epilogue.

Anyway, enjoy!!!

Chapter Song: Everything by Michael Buble

CSI R&B Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car, you’re the line in the sand when I go too far. You’re the swimming pool on an August day and you’re the perfect thing to see.

Almost two and a half months after the unit cracked the case of the Serious Cereal Serial killer, as Thor had coined it one morning while watching Bucky scarf down a bowl of oatmeal at such a rate that he almost choked on it, everything seemed to be fitting into place.

Rumlow and Wanda were rotting in jail. The former had been taken to a prison of maximum security in another county where he had been isolated while he waited for his trial to take place, whereas Wanda had been taken to the female wing, called Nidavellir, at the Nine Realms prison.

Katie had been back at the 99 for almost two months now and was working hand in hand with Peralta, which had given Santiago some relief as Katie was able to appease her husband’s excited and unorthodox methods. Gina had also been back at the 99 full time since another police technician, Scott Lang, previously in charge of the switchboard, had been appointed by Fury as the new Captain’s assistant at the 101st. To say he had been star-struck by the most famous police Captain in the NYPD would be an understatement, wringing Steve’s hand up and down for what felt like 5 minutes.

All in all Steve and Katie were doing well. They were in a happy domestic arrangement. She had moved in with Steve the moment Tony and Pepper had set a date for the wedding, even before she was taken by Rumlow after they had cracked the case and well before she decided to finish her secondment in DC and come back to Brooklyn permanently. And two months later she had given up pretending it was a temporary arrangement.

In fact, one Sunday morning while they were cuddling on the sofa, after an exhausting night and an invigorating breakfast, Katie had shyly asked Steve what he would think if she said she didn't want to find her own place but stay with him till they both found a place of their own. Steve had then flashed her a smile that would have lit up all of Brooklyn on a blackout night and had kissed the life out of her before commenting on how that would be everything a man could ask for. Earning another blinding smile from Katie and a groan from Bucky who, as usual, had shown up from nowhere when he was least expected and headed for the kitchen mumbling something about being fed up of mushy remarks and having to get better ear plugs to avoid having to go to therapy.

This particular Saturday morning, Katie was slumped over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, suffering from the mother of all hangovers after returning from Pepper’s bachelorette party in the small hours. And she was whimpering like a dog when Steve slid a plate of toast and an orange juice over to her.

"You need to eat something, doll."

"Trust me, I really don’t." she said, her voice muffled by the arm that was supporting her head.

Steve was trying to be sympathetic, he really was, but he was also having a hard time simply keeping himself from laughing. Frankly, the whole scene was hilarious. She had been in a right state when she had got home and he’d had to put her to bed once she had finished puking and he had arrested and cuffed her pumps for murdering her feet as per Katie’s request. So he let out a soft chuckle and she groaned as she squinted up at him.

"You know, it’s so not fair." she said blinking at the kitchen lights which felt like piercing her eyes.

"What isn’t?" Steve asked as he poured himself some coffee.

"I came home looking like a raccoon with my make-up smeared all over…and you…" she said as she waved her hand up and down his body "you still looked gorgeous even with that black eye."

"I’m surprised you can remember anything about what you or I looked like last night."

"When I go get my eyelashes done, remind me to take a photo of yours to show the beauty therapist what I want." she continued her ramblings ignoring his comment just before her head fell back on her arms.

Steve watched her and snorted.

"Don’t laugh at me." she whined, her voice once again muffled by her arms.

"I’m not. I’m trying to decide whether you’re still drunk or hungover." he said while he took a seat on the stool next to her.

"Trust me, this is 100% hangover…" she said peeking up at him. “How are you not even remotely ill?"

Steve rolled his eyes as if the answer couldn't have been any simpler. “I didn’t drink enough to be hungover. I know my limits."

"Hmmm yeah, not enough to avoid getting into a bar brawl." And just as she said it her eyes flicked to the bruise along his left cheekbone and eye socket. She sat up to trail her fingers gently over it. "You gonna tell me the full story about what happened?"

"I already told you before Doll, it was some drunken punk in a bar picking a fight. I had to put him in his place, that’s all."

"Yeah, and he put your eye in a dark place from the looks of it." she jabbed at him.

"Trust me, he ended up far worse."

Steve saw her watching him and he tried to hold her gaze as best he could, working on keeping his face straight. But it was proving hard work seeing as he was the worst of liars, he always had been. For a moment he thought she was gonna argue but she didn’t, whether she believed him or was simply too hungover to bother pulling him up on it he had no idea. He was just grateful she didn't.

"Sure he did. Anyway, what are you and your black eye doing today?" she asked.

"I’m on groomsman duty, my suit was a little short last time I tried it on so Tony wants to make sure it fits.” He replied, thankful of the change of subject, trying to sound as casual as possible, when a sudden idea came to him. “Hey, how about we head to Ma’s for lunch? I can meet you there? That is if you feel better later. You got anything else planned, baby?"

Katie reached for the orange juice before answering "Yeah, lying on the couch waiting for death to come and take me."

Steve chuckled and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her temple but he saw her flinch as Bucky made his accustomed loud entrance in the kitchen.

"Hey doll face..." he trailed off as he looked at her, taking in her appearance and then snorted."Yikes, not looking very doll face today."

"Die Barnes" she bit back at him.

"Gladly Stark, but before I leave this world remember you promised to help me find my suit for your brother’s wedding today." Bucky informed her, a side smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Katie then stilled "That was today?" she asked with a croaky voice.

"Yup." Bucky said and headed to the fridge to fetch some milk. "And seeing as his wedding is next week we are running out of time."

"Fuck my life." Katie groaned as Bucky poured some cereal into a bowl. "Can’t you ask anyone else? My head is killing me and I can’t feel my feet thanks to being in those ridiculous heels all night…"

"Not happening." Bucky shook his head. "Sam has some reports to finish today, but says he will join us later, and I need a woman’s advice."

"Well I don’t feel like being a woman today, Buck. Have some mercy." she said in a pleading tone, earning a chuckle from Steve who was amusingly watching the interaction while he munched his breakfast.

"Maybe I would if you hadn’t sent me the video of the stripper." Bucky took the big guns out.

Suddenly Steve spluttered on his coffee "What?"

"I thought you might enjoy it." she shrugged. "Anyway, I only did that because it was that Gemini Flannagan dude you told me about."

"Gemini Flannagan…huh, no shit?" Steve said as he dried a few coffee drops that had landed on the breakfast bar with a paper towel.

"Wanna see?" Bucky asked him with a grin.

"No, why the fuck would I want to see that?" Steve frowned, visibly disgusted.

"Because in the background to all the thrusting and gyrating dearest Gemini is doing, there’s a very interesting conversation going on between your lovely girl here and Natasha where Stark is clearly saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that his cock is nothing to write home about because yours is bigger."

At that point Katie could only groan and hide her head in her hands.

But Bucky continued as he was having a ball "... and for the record, punk, if that’s true, I don’t know how you stand up straight." And just like that he took a spoonful of cereal and watched the pair of them.

Steve was sure he was flushing, he could feel his ears and neck burning but he was also a bit smug, well ok, not a bit, he was full on smug. That most certainly was not a bad thing for his girl to be crowing about…

And then it suddenly hit him what Bucky had said.

"Hang on…he was naked? Like…did he strip?” Katie rolled her eyes and Bucky smiled at Steve's naivety "Clue's in the name…STRIPPER. Duh." she said.

“Like he was completely naked?”

“Well not completely, no.” Katie said, “He had this little leather thong pouch type thing covering his, crotch, but it was tight enough not to leave anything to the imagination.”

"You know, if you ever get tired of chasing bad guys there’s a gig there. You already have the uniform." Bucky told his friend as he munched his cereal.

Steve, who was now bright red, tilted his head at him. "Buck, just don’t."

Bucky smiled and decided to let it go but then he saw Katie looking at Steve and a wicked smile flicked across her face.

"Can you strip for me, Captain?" she asked suggestively.

Steve groaned and stood up, still flushing. "Just eat your toast and take a painkiller. I’m going for a shower."

"I love it when you put on your Captain's voice…" she purred, which did nothing to stop Steve’s blush, quite the contrary. And he rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a straight face as she continued "Are you stripping to get in the shower, Captain?"

Bucky laughed loudly as Steve sighed and looked him. "Keep her out of trouble, punk." He ordered.

"I’m not some mischief making teenager, Steve." she protested.

"Then stop acting like one." Steve said sternly, hands on his hips and it didn’t pass him by that he was really adopting his Captain stance.

"Says the man with the black eye." she glared at him and Bucky sniggered.

"I’m going for a shower now. Behave with uncle Bucky sweetheart." he said, winking an eye at her. And as he turned to leave Katie threw the toast from her plate at him but missed completely and it ended up on the kitchen's floor by the door.

"Fuck you, Rogers." she shouted in frustration.

They heard Steve's laughter die down as the bathroom door shut.

"We don’t play with food, little miss." Bucky mock scolded Katie as he picked the toast up off the floor.

"You can piss off too."

Bucky laughed, now she was being a brat. "Sorry, but you’re cute when you’re angry and hungover."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she frowned at him.

"A James Buchanan Barnes original, yes."

"Well, given how I look and feel this morning, I’ll take it." She breathed in and nodded behind him. "Pass me the Advil, will ya Buck?"

"Sure, doll face." he said as he reached into the cupboard over the sink and tossed the packet down on the breakfast bar. "Take a few, I need you at your best this morning."

"Just my luck." she said, taking the painkillers from the packet.

Bucky chuckled and poured himself a coffee. "Blame your brother, if he had chosen me as a groomsman, I’d have my suit sorted now."

Katie snorted and tossed the pills into her mouth, taking a gulp of orange juice and swallowing.

"I mean, I get why Rhodes is his best man, like they’ve been friends forever but Rogers, Wilson and Banner as ushers, really? What about me?"

Katie looked at him "You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?"

"What you trying to say?" Bucky asked, not understanding why his question was so odd.

"Brucie and Sam are his closest friends at work and Steve’s…"

"The guy fucking his sister." he cut her off.

Katie narrowed her eyes "I was gonna say his Captain, ass hole."

Bucky simply grinned at her over his coffee mug. He loved their little bickering moments.

***** Steve pulled up outside Tony’s and headed up to the door of the large brownstone terraced house. He sighed as he rang the bell. He had been sure about this but now he didn't know if he was anymore. Anyways, he was already there and he'd better roll with it.

"Oh hey Rogers, wasn’t expecting you." Tony greeted him as he opened the door.

"Hi Tony."

"Eurgh, that black eye looks worse now than it did last night. What did Katie say?" he said pointing at Steve's face

"Nothing much. I told her it was just some drunken ass hole causing a scene. She doesn’t need to know anything else." he shrugged.

Tony arched an eyebrow at him "Ooh, Captain straight lace telling lies."

"It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth." Steve explained with a smile.

He had begun to take a liking at Tony's teasing, as long as it wasn't too personal that is. But he had to concede since they had rescued Katie from Rumlow the scientist had toned down his little jabs at the Captain.

"Whatever, your funeral when she finds out." Tony brushed Steve's explanations off with a wave of his hand. "And speaking of my sister, where is she?"

"Shopping with Bucky…complete with one hell of a hangover."

"Yeah Pepper ain't much better. Made her one of my miracle beverages. Looked worse on the way back up, which is saying something…Come on in."

Tony stepped back and let Steve into the tiled hallway, shutting the door behind him. He led the way, taking him through to the kitchen and Steve caught a glimpse of the living room when they stopped at the door.

"Pepper's on the sofa... dying. Probably best we leave her to it." Tony explained when he saw Steve was looking in her direction.

Steve smiled and nodded as Tony looked at him. "So Kiddo is shopping with a hangover? Bet she loved that." he scoffed.

"Well, you know her…never one to let someone down when she’s promised something. Bucky needs a suit for the wedding so…"

"Oh, shit, yeah…er…let me warn you, I was in the middle of a thing with our wedding planner."

Steve paused and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Tony had never been one for warnings, he just let people draw conclusions by allowing them to dive in head first. He just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

"You’ll see." Tony said before heading into the kitchen.

Steve frowned, there was not a spark of wickedness in Tony's brown eyes when he uttered those words as he would have expected. Instead Steve could feel the exasperation in his voice.

"Steve this is Grandmaster, our wedding planner. Grandmaster this is Steve Rogers, my sister’s boyfriend."

Steve looked at Tony, mouthing Grandmaster? What kind of fucking name was that? he thought. Tony didn't bother answering. Instead, he merely took out his glasses and rolled his eyes, a gesture Steve knew only too well to mean ‘don’t ask’ as it was identical to the one Katie made.

"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers…you’re a lucky man." the man suddenly spoke.

"Sorry, I’m not…I don’t…what?" Steve was utterly confused and finished a little lamely. His brain was having a hard time registering the wedding planner's flamboyant appearance. He was wearing a sparkly golden jacket even Bucky would have sworn off in the 80s. But his greying spiky hair and blue eyeliner combination was what had Steve floundering for words. Then, what the man had said registered and he frowned. “Lucky man?”

"Your girlfriend, Tony’s sister, I met her at the dress fitting a few weeks ago. She’s an exquisite little thing." Grandmaster explained softly.

"Oh, err, yeah… yes she is. Thank you.”

Steve saw Grandmaster bat his eyelashes at him as if to acknowledge his words. He looked at Tony once more, utterly dumbfounded. Tony simply shook his head in a just roll with it gesture and Steve suddenly realised exactly why Tony had issued a warning.

He then looked at the large table which was adorned with bits of paper, one of which looked like a seating plan, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding.

"Look, if this is a bad time I can come back…"

"Oh, no, Anthony and I were just discussing the brunch…" Grandmaster explained and grinned at Tony.

"For the last time, it’s a Reception, idiot." Tony hissed.

"No, can you…you know I don’t like that word." Grandmaster shook his head, cringing.

"What? Idiot."

"No, the…why would I not like the word idiot? I mean the R word."

Steve stood there, watching the exchange between the two men, his mouth hanging open in confusion. That Greatmaster was certainly a greater piece of work than Tony, which was saying something. Or was it Grandmaster? Whatever...

Tony let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It’s not a brunch, it's an afternoon... you know what? Fine. The post wedding meal."

"Ok, better." Grandmaster grinned again at him.

Steve now understood why Tony had done nothing but moan about this guy for the last few months. He was clearly a fucking sandwich short of a full picnic.

"As for the seating…just do whatever. I don’t much care." Tony conceded, visibly fed up. There's only so much a man can take after all.

"Alright, seeing as Miss Potter is not available, I’ll work on this later and email it over." the man agreed.

"It’s Miss Potts." Tony practically growled and Steve could see he was about to lose it.

"She’s more open to my ideas than you are Anthony." the wedding planner observed, not in the least fazed by his client's angry tone.

Tony stared at him, blinking. His mouth hanging slightly open in a look Steve had seen only a handful of times before, when something had rendered him speechless, which was no mean feat, before the scientist took a deep sigh.

"Whatever."

And just like that Grandmaster moved graciously around the table. Steve watched him as he gathered his papers up and popped them into a leather briefcase. He then fastened it with a click and looked at Tony.

"By the way, it smells in here…burnt toast I think.”

"Yeah, well I like my bread well done." Tony's voice was deadpan and Steve snorted as Grandmaster nodded with a smile. The guy had no idea Tony was literally making fun of him to his face.

"Alright, guess I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Anthony. Nice to meet you Mr Stevenson."

Steve's brain had not quite registered the man's name mixed-up when he heard Tony hiss through gritted teeth "It’s Rogers." He was literally lost for words. So when Grandmaster left the room Tony looked at him.

"Don’t mind him, took him some time until he stopped calling me Mr Starch. That’s why I don’t rip his tongue out for calling me Anthony."

"Yeah erm…where on Earth did you find him?"

“I’m not actually sure he’s from Earth.” Tony mumbled before he shook his head. “He was some acquaintance of Banner. Thor knew him too. He runs a company called Sakaar. They deal with events planning. And orgies, apparently." Tony explained, rubbing his temples.

Steve thought Tony had aged a decade in the ten minutes he had been dealing with his wedding planner and gave them a sympathetic smile just before his brain registered the last part. "What?"

"Don’t ask." Tony said before clapping his hands together. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Cap? You want a coffee or…?

"No thanks, I’m good." Steve cleared his throat. With all the Grandmaster dude shenanigans he had forgotten the real purpose of his visit and suddenly he could feel his palms were sweaty with nerves. "I... err... wanted to talk to you alone. There’s this thing I’ve been meaning to ask you…"

Tony arched his eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes." Steve replied way too fast. "I mean, I wanted to ask you before I ask her…"

"Her? Are you talking about Katie?"

Steve lowered his head and sighed "Yes."

"Oh, I see what’s going on." Tony said leaning against the counter, folding his arms.

"You do?" Steve asked, lifting his head up and looking at him shyly.

"No thanks to you, you’re a mess Rogers." Tony said, a gentle smile curling on his lips. "Come with me."

Steve frowned before following him "Tony, I…"

"Trust me, I have something to show you." Tony stopped and turned to look at him with a soft smile.

Steve took a breath and followed him. They headed down the hall then up the stairs and into Tony's study. Once there Steve saw Tony sit on his desk chair and begin tapping on the keyboard. Just as the screen sprang to life Tony explained. "See dad had a thing for recording videos, kind of like pep talks for the future." He pressed a few buttons more and moved the mouse before continuing. "After the one he recorded for that old journalist Mr Lee, well it got me thinking there had to be more. So I started searching through his old archives and among other things, I found something I think you’ll find interesting."

Steve frowned "What do you mean?"

Tony looked at him for an instant before looking back at the screen and smiled as he selected a file. "Lets just say my dear old pop was a visionary…"

Steve looked at him, he had no idea what the fuck was going on. Tony stood up and motioned for Steve to take his place on the desk chair

"Just watch this, then you can ask me what you wanted to ask me."

He leaned over Steve to click another button and the screen suddenly displayed Howard, perched on his desk, scotch in hand. Steve felt a shiver running down his spine.

"Is this thing rolling?" Howard asked the person behind the camera as he swirled his glass around.

"Yeah, it’s on…" a voice from off screen confirmed.

"Alright…" Howard took a swig of scotch and cleared his throat. "Tony…congratulations on being the only person I know who is nosey enough and clever enough to crack into my archives…anyway, if you’re watching this it means something has happened to me before I got the chance to tell you all this in person so…."

Steve watched as Tony pressed a key to fast forward the recording a bit, he was winding to find something, before he stopped and the screen showed Howard giving a chuckle and taking another mouth of scotch.

"So yeah, there’s always a secret door." he said before taking a deep breath. "Now I want you to show this next bit to Rogers."

Steve’s eyes widened and he felt his heart start beating fast.

"Steve, you’re like a second son to me, you know that. I hope you’re doing well. I have no doubt you’ve made Captain by now, possibly even Commissioner, depending on how old this recording is. Not too old I hope. Anyway, I digress. I’m willing to bet you’ve cracked a few big cases too."

Steve gulped as he watched his old mentor continue to talk to him through the screen. He couldn't even tear his eyes from the screen to see Tony's reaction.

"Good job son. Now, onto something far more important to me. I hope you and my princess have realised by now you’re made for each other, because I already know you are."

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his heart was now pounding.

"So if you’re watching this, and you’ve finally figured that out, then I’m giving you my blessing son. If you haven’t figured it out, then you’re a pair of dumbasses." Howard groaned at the last part and Steve gave a soft snort of laughter, shaking his head. "I’d be over the moon knowing you two have finally realised what has been in front of you for the past god knows how long."

"10 fucking years…" Tony mumbled from where he was leaning against a bookcase behind Steve, arms crossed and his right hand covering his mouth and jaw.

Howard then swallowed a little and wiped at his eye as he looked down at his feet taking a deep breath, clearly emotional, before he looked back up.

"Just look after her, treat her well and make her happy. I’m trusting you with one of my most treasured accomplishments son. And I only wish I could be there to walk her down the aisle to hand her over to the person I’d trust her with over anyone." Howard smiled and then thought about something a moment before he continued. “Just don’t try to understand her.” Howard shrugged “Because the minute you think you know what’s going on inside a woman’s head is the moment you’re goose is cooked.”

At that he sat up straight, slipping back into the Howard Steve knew all too well and looked at the camera.

"Ok, you can stop that thing now…" Steve heard him say before the screen went blank.

The room fell silent and Steve swallowed, trying to digest what he had just seen. The lump in his throat felt like a damned golf ball. Seeing his old mentor, his girl’s dad like that, in such an unguarded way had really made him emotional. When he recovered a bit he turned to look at Tony, who was in turn looking at him, and saw his eyes were misting over slightly. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

Steve chuckled "You still gonna make me say it?"

"Humour me Rogers, I like to see you squirm." Tony teased him, regaining his composure.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking, hoping his voice would come out as steady as possible given the circumstances.

"Tony, I’m gonna ask Katie to marry me. And it would mean the world to me, if I had your blessing."

Tony smiled and looked at his feet before he glanced back up "Then you got it, Steve."

Steve felt a feeling of relief wash over him, the fact he had used his name, for the first time in years, and not some stupid nickname didn’t pass him by. He smiled widely as Tony extended his hand, before he pulled him into a brotherly hug.

“Scotch?” Tony asked him as he pulled back.

Steve nodded, smiling widely. "Absolutely."

CONTINUED IN PART 2

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

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just-another-romantic · 5 years

Text

How to Date a Broken God - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Honest Apologies and a Sparring Match

Series Summary: After too many years of pain, a mortal teaches a god how to feel again. Maybe she can learn from him.

Warnings: ngl (Y/n)’s just rude in this one, language, sad Loki, fighting

That night, Loki threw up. After (Y/n)’s confession, the god quickly excused himself from the room, and barely made it to his bathroom before puking up everything he had within the past century. He hadn’t been ill since he was a child, and here he was: knelt over on the cold tile, head in the toilet bowl and clammy hands holding on for dear life.

Last time he had been ill like this, his mother had scooped him up in her arms - despite his protests - and tucked him into her bed, pulling the silk blanket up to his chin. He tried to recall how her hands stroked his hair in comfort as he pushed a stray lock from his face.

He was sick at himself. The once vain god now looked in the mirror and hated the face that stared back at him. He hated his heritage, Odin’s lies and abuse that lasted centuries, and he hated the spiral the truth threw him into once it was unveiled. He hated Thanos with his mind control, that he was weak enough to fall into it - costing thousands of innocent lives, including that poor girl’s parents.

Loki let out an audible groan of anguish, his head dropping lay on his land clutched to the toilet bowl. He hated her...well, not exactly. He hated how his heart twisted at the mere mention of her name. How his heart burst at the melody of her voice or, Odin forbid, her laugh. How she was not a normal mortal, that she stood her ground and held a knife to his neck the second he dared test her. He hated that in every aspect, (Y/n) was what Loki wanted in a lover.

She could never love you, he remembered. You’re a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. A monster, like the world...like your own father and brother think of you. Who would ever want to hold your crimson-stained hands?

Shakily, the unbreakable god stood up from the bathroom floor, quick to splash water in his face in attempt to refresh himself. He looked into the mirror and a monster looked back at him. If asked, he would deny it, but that night Loki fell asleep with tears running down his cheeks.

The morning wasn’t any better. An awkward heavy air still lingered above the Avenger’s heads, leftover from last night. Loki entered the kitchen nook of the floor around seven, grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and maroon t-shirt contrasting against his pale complexion. The golden rays of the still-rising sun fled into the room, enveloping the god in what one could only describe as a halo. Of course, Loki was tired and disoriented from sleep; the only thing he felt like was disheveled. No one noticed the beauty of the waking deity, no one except (Y/n), who promptly choked on her hot coffee.

Bucky was laid out on the sofa, the morning news drowning out his soft snores. James Rhodes sat at the dining table, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Sat on the ground by the television, Peter started on a new Lego set of the Avengers Tower, mumbling about the minor mistakes there were in the tiny architecture. Loki was worried he’d convince Pepper to sue the company.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Sam called from the barstool, cup of coffee in hand. His eyes traveled from Loki, to Wanda and the pans of scrambled and fried eggs and the pot of boiled eggs, then the pile of bacon next to her. “I hope you like eggs. Don’t really know what you guys eat on different planets.”

Loki stifled a yawn. “I’ll get myself a bagel. But, Birdbrain, yes, we have eggs on Asgard. I just don't eat them.”

“Oh my god is he vegan?” came Peter’s small voice.

Loki chose not to respond to that question and only walked into the kitchen in search of the toasters. He found them pretty quickly, (Y/n)’s small form serving as a landmark. She looked snug and smug, giving Loki the once over as she sipped her coffee, her feet dangling from where she sat on the counter. She looked innocent enough, cozy and clad in sweatpants and an oversized Star Wars shirt, and though she was barefooted, Loki had no doubt she was hiding another dagger somewhere.

“Good morning,” she chirped sweetly. “Don’t worry, I don’t have another dagger on me.”

Well, there’s one question answered. He gave her a smile in greeting. There was a bit of a pause before she raised her eyebrows as in ‘Aren’t you getting something?’ to which Loki quickly grabbed the bagels from the breadbasket.

After putting the two slices into the rack, he found himself suddenly interested in his cuticles, while it had been a bad habit he picked up when he was only a child- that constantly got him ratted out by his mother for it. The once suave god that had women falling at his feet lost his tongue in the presence of a mortal girl. “(Y/n)-”he began, before getting cut off.

“Don’t. I know what you’re gonna say.” He gave her an inquisitive look, to which she only rolled her eyes. “The air’s still heavy from last night.”

Loki felt his cheeks heat up. “(Y/n)...I give you my sincerest apology. And I’m well aware that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t even close enough to covering it.”

She shrugged. “I loved them. Still do, with every ounce of myself. My parent’s were my best friends. But you know what they always taught me?” Her burning stare locked with his. “That there’s two sides to every story, and even the monster thinks he’s the hero.”

Her voiced echoed monster in his ears and left an impact in his gut. “I’m sorry darling but I’m not seeing your stance on this...are you offering forgiveness?” His mouth dried up and he found himself unable to speak more than one sentence. He couldn’t even think.

(Y/n) scoffed, swinging down from her perch on the marble. “Oh no. Not even close.” She stepped uncomfortably close and Loki was intimidated, though she barely came up to his nose. “No. I hate you,” she seethed.

His stomach rolled in his belly at the venom in her voice, the words she spewed stinging like hellfire.

“But I will never wish you bad intentions. Like they always say, ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’.” She flashed him an innocent smile, the façade immediately building back up. “We’re teammates, we have to at least tolerate each other.” Tolerate. Enemy. “And for the record, don’t call me ‘darling’, darling.”

Loki gulped, feeling as though his throat had filled with cement, stepped down from his stance with her, and quickly grabbed his food before retreating to his room without another word.

Throughout the entirety of (Y/n)’s accusations, the newest Agent's voice had grown tremendously in volume, drawing the attention of the rest of the room’s occupants. There was a sweet moment of silence and (Y/n) turned to enjoy her coffee in peace, but Sam was too blunt for a Saturday morning.

“Don’t you think that was a bit...I dunno...harsh?”

“If it was, I don’t care.”

“You should,” said Bucky from the coach, his face stony and serious. “It’s how the whole Civil War ordeal started.”

“That’s completely different,” she snapped. “They had their reasons, Stark was being ignorant to the truth, as always it seems-”

Coronel Rhodes’ voice boomed through the kitchen, “Hey!”

(Y/n)’s head turned as the silence fell over the room. Rhodey’s eyes narrowed in on her. “I suggest you watch yourself, little lady,” he said. “You are the new comer, you have absolutely no right to waltz in and talk bad about the man who saved the universe, saving your ass as well.”

“Loki killed my mother in cold blood! My brother! My sisters and my father! And I had to watch!”

“Stark’s weapons killed my family, sweets,” spoke Wanda, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Her slender fingers interwove with the agent’s own, soothing and warm. “And I forgave him. In a matter of weeks.”

“He had no control of who used his weapons, Wandie.”

“I killed his parents,” mentioned Bucky. “He forgave me.”

“You were brainwashed!”

Rhodey leaned against the counter, arms crossing and face stern. “Loki was too.”

Agent (Y/L/n) felt her heart drop at a sickening speed. “He was...what?”

“It was all a part of Thano’s mastermind plan or some bullshit,” explained the Falcon. “He sent people to collect all of the infinity stones, but that ended up going south and he took it into his own hands. One of them being Loki.” Sam’s brown eyes fell to the ground in a silence, and the extremity of the situation hit the girl like a truck. “He found him, floating out there in the depths of the universe, took him, and convinced him to go on a killing spree. Basically.”

(Y/n)’s mind was going a million miles an hour and everyone in the room could practically see the wheels turning in her head. All the blame, all of the hurt, she had cast onto the wrong man. Her voice was shaky and breaking, “So...my parent’s death was - was that raisin’s doing?”

“Thanos killed millions before the Blip,” said Bucky gently.

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jesus, I really am an asshole, aren’t I?”

Rhodey laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You have a few things to learn before we put you on the field, that’s for sure. Gotta control those anger issues, but I think we can whip you into shape pretty quick.

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

And boy, did they whip her alright.

Hesitantly, (Y/n) agreed to beginning her training early on Sunday, instead of waiting for the work week to start. First, it was a three-mile run with Sam and Bucky around the compound at the crack of dawn, nothing she hadn’t done before or couldn’t handle. After breakfast, there was weights with Rhodey, then yoga with Wanda. Thankfully, she caught a break with Banner in the lab in between sessions, talking about the design of her new suit and how the tech that she didn’t understand would work. Now, she laid flat on her back, thrown for the fifth time in a round of sparring with Bucky.

“C’mon doll,” he taunted in his Brooklyn drawl, “get your butt up. Or do you need help? Do I need to phone 911?”

“For an old man, you sure do know how to talk shit, Granny.”

His black brow quirked in amusement. “That was the best you could come up with?”

Shakily, the agent denied the hand he offered and pushed herself up again, resuming the fighting stance. “I’ll work on it.”

The brunette supersoldier smiled at her, wiping the minimal sweat off himself with a towel. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m giving ya someone that’s more so your size this round.” He called off behind his shoulder and low and behold, Loki took his place on the mat, looking unpleased.

The first thing he said was the simple, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I doubt you would,” she replied, masking her nerves with a stern voice. She shot a glare at Bucky, who sat off to the side with a grin that could beat the Chesire Cat’s. “’I’m pairing you with someone more your size,’ he said! ‘It’ll be fun,’ he said! Bullshit, Buchanan!”

“He’s your size!”

“He’s a god!” (Y/n) looked the mischief maker up and down. He was scrawnier than his blond brother, but his stance and build clearly stated he’d be a difficult opponent. He stood a good half-a-foot above her head, and she doubted her own strength could outmatch his.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Barnes began matter-of-factly, “Loki isn’t built the same as Thor. He’s less jacked and smaller.” Loki’s muttering was heard but disregarded. “However, he’s still one of the strongest of the universe.”

“Then why the hell are you putting me with him if he could squash me between his fingers? I’m human.”

“Yesterday morning, you seemed to be out for his blood, I’m giving you what you wanted.”

Heated shame crept up (Y/n)’s chest and face and Loki’s smirk rendered her speechless.

Bucky ignored her redness, continuing, “He uses his brain, his cunning, his agility, and his speed. Along with his magic, he become’s a dealy combination. You could learn a lot from him, which is exactly why I’m pairing you with him. But for a fair fight, no magic.”

“You’re no fun, Sargent,” the god complained.

“Unless (Y/n) has a trick up her sleeve, no magic.”

Loki looked at her with hopeful eyes, to which she only shrugged. “I only know party tricks. Sorry.”

The mix-matched pair stepped onto the mat, both hesitant. The moment Bucky’s voice rang “Start!” throughout the room, (Y/n) swung a punch, that was quickly deflected and brought behind her back. His body pressed against hers, heat and electricity in-between the two bodies. The agent writhed, brining her elbow hard into this side, then looping her legs around his own.

“That’s it, (Y/n)!” Bucky praised, and (Y/n)’s face flushed under the compliment and the god’s mighty stare. The applause fueling her, she had Loki down a moment later, sitting on his upper thighs, her own straddling his waist. His arms were pinned helplessly against the floor; she smirked.

Loki’s eyes were blown wide, breath heavy, but he smiled back. “You okay there, Silvertongue?” (Y/n) cooed sweetly. She had won.

“Loki,” Bucky called from behind the ropes, “quit holding back!” and the agent’s blood ran cold.

Instantly, her back slapped against the mat, the positions now reversed. Pinned, despite how hard she struggled and fought against his strength. Loki’s eyes locked with hers and her breath caught in the base of her throat, mouth running dry.

“Never better, petal,” the god answered, whisper of breath crossing her face. The heat left her body as he got up, grabbed his duffle bag, and exited the gym.

(Y/n) sat on the floor, heaving and images of the bluest eyes flashing through her mind.

AUTHORS NOTE

Holy shit. The first month of 2020 has been kicking my ass. Lord help us all. I’m so sorry for the wait, guys. I hope I can make it up to yall.

TAGLIST

@cosmic-souls-and-stardust @rinthehufflepuff @electroma89 @madshelily @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @acf2510 @daddylouislittle @fanartdom @iam-a-painted-whore

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #Loki Angst #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki headcanon #loki drabble #loki fluff #Avengers #avengers endgame #endgame spoiler alert

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slvtbible · 6 years

Text

I should’ve walked away | pt. 2

[In which he says everything he needs to say]

Warnings: mentions of terminal illness, tears, curse words

[If this sucks i’m sorry:/ i have never been good with part twos unlike some other talented writers out there, who are killing it lol]

[But anyways, i hope you guys like this. Sorry for taking this so long!]

You thought that heartbreak will only last for a couple weeks. But you were wrong about that.

The night after you left the party was also the night you went back home to your small apartment. You blocked his number right after you reached your home, have no absolutely intention on rekindling the relationship,

You called your mother and told her about everything whilst your cried. She tried to calm you down but it didn’t work. You weren’t crying over the fact that your relationship with Harry had ended, but you were crying over how completely different Harry was that night. And how his friends were no better than him. That broke your heart to pieces, because you had been together for three years and expected that Harry was the guy that everyone talked about on the media. Yet, they proved you wrong.

Sobs were uncontrolled as you cried to your mom, cursing him over and over but surprisingly, although you told your mom how disrespectful Harry and his friends had been to both of you, she only sighed to herself and smiled softly. Knowing that this would happen either way, because your family were never been blessed with good wealth and people will always look down on you no matter what. She knew that already so she wasn’t disappointed nor hurt.

But she also knew Harry is a good person. Though only had a chance of meeting him once, he was the most polite and kindest man you have ever dated. She told you herself and she remembered how pink your cheeks were when you blushed, it was truly the most heartwarming and cutest thing your mother ever had to witness.

Now, those days were over. To you. You swore to yourself to never ever fall back to the arms of a man who is disrespectful towards your mother.

It is four months later after your break up with Harry and you’d be lying if you say you didn’t miss him. During work or during your sleepless nights, he would always manage to find his way to sneak in to your mind and it’s hard for you to get rid of those thoughts.

Harry is suffering just the same as you. Perhaps even worse.

He is not himself anymore. After he spat those terrible things towards the only woman he’s ever loved and he’s ever going to marry, he could never forgive himself. He blames himself for your departure, he curses himself for using your insecurities against you and that was not fair.

He’s very much aware of how privileged he is and so are the people around him, yet he decided to go and rub it on your face. Even made fun of your mother’s income. His mother would be livid if she finds out how terrible he treated you. Anne favours you very much, she always have.

This year, turns out to be a not pretty good year for you. Your mother had informed you four months ago that your sister, have been adapted with cancer. Both treatments and surgery costs $30,000 combined and you have no idea how to earn that much money in less than three months to pay for them all. Especially when you only have one job while you have classes to attend to.

But you made up your mind. You decided to drop out of college and started to take three jobs—which are not really helping at all, the money aren’t enough just yet— to pay for the surgery. The university offers you to pay for all of your tuition including the living costs, in order for you to stay because you’re one of the best students and they don’t want to let you go.

However, you declined. It’s not fair and you have always been taught by your parents to work hard on your own. Earn your money and one day all of your blood, sweat and tears will pay off. Someday.

“Want me to close this one up, darling?”

Your lovely co-worker, Maria asks. She’s a couple years older than your mom and have been nothing but nice to you ever since you applied for this job. She knows all about your problem as well. Harry, his friends, the money, everything and she doesn’t judge you. You’re grateful for that,

With a smile, you nod your head softly at her as your eyes starting to get heavier. “Are you fine with that? Don’t wanna be a bother”

Maria scoffs, waving you off as she locks the cabinet. “You were never a bother, Y/N. Go get some rest, you do have another job to work at tomorrow don’t you?”

Again, you nod. Untying your white apron and fold it neatly, putting it inside your tote bag. You hug Maria as you thank her and kisses her cheek before walking out of the shop to walk home,

You see, for the past four months you work as a bartender on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, from 11 am - 3 am. A waitress at a diner on Wednesday and Friday, from 6.30 am - 12 pm and babysitting on Saturday. So the only day you don’t have work is Sunday, where you spend it almost everyday just sleeping. Wether in your bed or the couch.

Tired is the perfect description about your daily life. Though your friends are all dying to meet up with you, you know you can’t. You have absolutely no social life and you’re just waiting for all of this to end. But you’re not sure when.

As soon as you step inside your small apartment, you lock the door and throw your keys on the counter before walking upstairs and run yourself a bath. You decide to spoil yourself for a few moments then go to bed,

Harry is suffering.

His days are supposed to be the days where he should write new songs for his next album. But the papers are only filled with dozens of messages he wanted to say to you. Crumpled and ruined. In which he have no slight intention on throwing them away because the paper is the only source he gets to say what he wants to say. And he can’t no longer say them to you,

He knows you’ve blocked his number, he’s hurt to say at least. Numerous voicemails and messages he sent were left unopened. The thing that drives him even crazier is that he doesn’t even know where you live! He needs to know wether you’re okay or not, are you eating well enough, drink enough water or not. Or have you found someone else that can love and care for you the way he does?

The thought of you finding someone else hurt his heart but he understands why. He has to. You’ve put up with his shit—his friends included— longer than anyone else does. That’s why he loves you.

His tears hasn’t stopped either. Everyday he wakes up, and finds himself crying over you, wanting you back in his arms. Every night he falls asleep with the thought of you on his mind makes him cry while he hugs your perfume scented pillow tightly against his chest. If he can’t hold you close to his heart then maybe your pillow will do.

“You want anything, mate?” Jeff swings the door open, voice fills with concern and fear. Ever since that night happened, Harry has done nothing but cold to his friends. Except for his band.

He shakes his head, rubbing his slightly red nose with his eyes glued on the journal. “No.”

With his one simple worded answer only leaves Jeff to nod his head, grabbing his black coat from the sofa and walk out of the studio.

Mitch looks over at Sarah for a split second before settling his eyes back on the piece of white paper,

“Have you... tried to talk to her? Perhaps, reach out to her again.” Mitch asks, carefully looking up.

Mitch learns that whenever he or anyone for that matter mentions your name, he gets aggressive then cries. So he reminds himself everyday and to everyone to be careful everytime they want to speak with Harry. He’s a fragile human being right now,

Harry lets out a small sarcastic laugh, closing his journal and lean his back against the couch. “Of course i did. Many times. But she never even answered my call or text. Her friend Jenna left me on read when i asked her to tell me about how Y/N is doing. It’s hopeless, besides it’s months ago. I bet Y/N has already forgotten about me.”

His voice cracks as the last sentence comes falls from his lips. Grabbing a water bottle from the table, he takes a slow sip as his eyes begins to water and he has to inhale deeply to keep them from falling,

Sarah looks down, sighing to herself. “You’re saying that as if it’s her fault for forgetting about you that fast.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Need i to remind you that you were the one who compared her to Kendall. From her appearance to her income. Her job wasn’t fancy or popular, yeah i get that but she was struggling, Harry. Did you ever learn that your girlfriend was an immigrant when she came here? Finding a job with such a reputation was hard for people like her! They don’t immediately give you the chance to work as models, fashion stylists or musical producers like us! Think about that Harry. Or were you too wrapped up around Kendall’s or any Victoria’s Secret models fingers that you had the audacity to bring your ex girlfriend down like that!”

“Sarah” Mitch tries, trying to keep her calm,

But she isn’t having any of it. “No, Mitch he needs to hear this!” She protests as she looks over at Mitch then back again at Harry. “You out of all people should know that! You were her boyfriend for fuck sake! And she didn’t need any of you snobby asses to remind her where her insecurities lay! She already knows she don’t fit in! She knows her place Harry, and she knows she’s not as pretty as Kendall Jenner, Camille, or Georgia or Nadine. Stop moping around and hope that people will have sympathy for you because you don’t deserve mine!” She snaps, breathing in heavily and stands up to walk away, trying to calm her down,

Harry is struck. Sarah is known to be one of those people who rarely gets angry because she seems to be walking in a ray of sunshine everyday, a sweet smile never leaves her face. As if there’s nothing can bring her down.

But today is completely different, Harry watched Sarah as she outed everything she had deep down in her heart. You and Sarah have always been so close, you two are like one of those two best friends in high school. The Betty to her Veronica. And to see Harry broke your heart, played a insecurity against you made her cry too. She was disappointed in Harry.

Still, Harry can’t accept the fact that Sarah put all the blame on him when you were the one who chose to walk away.

“I love her, Sarah. What makes you think that i would intentionally hurt her like that? That night, she was the one who walked out on me. I told her that i would help her, support her, financially and emotionally. She was my girlfriend but she left!” He bursts, looking up at his bandmate with his nose flaring in anger,

Sarah looks at him in disbelief and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “And have you, really?” She questions, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, she thought about leaving you for a long time Harry. Way before we celebrated your victory win at that club. But she stayed. Did you know? She fucking stayed. Because to her it didn’t matter if the world was against her, if the fans hated the two of you together, or even if your exes stared her down like she was a peasant. All she ever needed was you. You and Y/N against the fucking world.”

Sarah leaves it at that, before walking away from the two of them. She needs to cool down before she completely loses it,

Harry looks down on his lap, taking each and every word of hers and input them in his brain. He bites down his lip trying to contain the tears that are threatening to spill from his eyes. He presses the home button of his phone and see a picture of you laying on the bed, wearing nothing but a white duvet to cover your naked body. A toothy grin stretches over your pretty face with your eyes closes a bit,

He smiles sadly at the memory. He remembers taking the picture on the next morning after making love to you all night. It was the best night of his life, he got to hold the woman of his dreams and the dimpled smile never leave his face. He wishes he never let you walk away. He should’ve beg you to stay that night. He swears that the day after he met you, he would leave his career and dreams behind if it means being with you forever. Yes. He thought of forever and it doesn’t scared him. But it’s all too late is it?

“I miss you” he whispers, tracing a finger over your picture on his wallpaper. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m really sorry.” He gives a small peck on his phone where your lips are, imagining that you were also there with him.

It doesn’t matter if it hurts him. Because nothing compares to what he has done to you few months ago

“Here are your hot cakes and coffee?” You smile sweetly at the customer, placing her orders on the table,

“Thank you, can i have a napkin please?” The customer smiles back, reaching over for the coffee and take a sip,

You nod your head, telling her that you’ll be right back before going over behind the counter and grabs a pink napkin, handing it to her.

“Is lover boy coming today?” Maria asks, as she places the order on the tray and giving it to you,

Rolling your eyes, you tell her to knock it off. Earning a loud giggle falls from her lips,

“What? That man has done nothing but come here to see you. And he only comes to your shifts! Don’t tell me that he’s not in love with you”

“Maria, no!” You laugh, picking up the tray full of food and handing it to the other waitress, “he’s just been so... supportive of me. I mean-he’s been helping me taking care of my mom and sister. Did you know that he offers to pay Beatrice’s surgery?”

Maria gapes, halting her moves as she stares at you. “That’s amazing!”

However you give her a look and a slight chuckle. “Don’t get too excited, i turned that offer down.”

The answer you give, wipes the bright smile off Maria’s face. “What? Why? Y/N! A kind and handsome man who’s been there for you through these past difficult months offers you to pay your sister’s surgery and you said no? Are you kidding me, honey?”

Nope. You aren’t. Sure it sounds good to have someone pay for something so important and urgent but you can’t let him do it. Not when this man is associated with your one and only former boyfriend who has the same circle of friends that will tear you apart all over again. You can’t go through the same thing twice.

Yes. Former boyfriend as in Harry Edward Styles. Dean is his right hand when it comes to writing the lyrics. He participates 80% on his first solo album, meaning that he plays a big role on his music and that’s very important to him. Dean is one of Harry’s good friends as well, though you had never seen them hang out that much.

The two of you have become close after your messy break up with Harry. Dean reached out to you and sent his love, and truly you didn’t expect that. You’ve never interacted with Dean before then to found out that he called you by his number, left you surprised. In a good way.

Ever since, Dean has been very kind and supportive towards you. He takes you home sometimes, whenever he gets the chance. He brings you food at late night though you tell him numerous times that you weren’t hungry, he knows you’re lying so he did it anyway. He knows that you don’t have the best place to lay your head since months ago. The small and crappy apartment that you only managed to afford for now, isn’t exactly the best one yet. People are selling weed and hardcore drugs in the building, you’ve gotten sick of it but you have to hold on.

And again, he offered you to stay at his place because he can’t stand to see you at that state. But you were so head strong that it makes him upset and admired you than he ever did before, you truly are a gift.

You’ve come into a conclusion where Harry prefers to keep his toxic friends closer to him than the ones who actually brings positivity. Dean is obviously the most positive out of them all, well apart from Sarah, Mitch, Adam and you haven’t seen Clare that much.

Dean decides to keep this friendship of yours a secret between the two of you. He can’t risk of getting caught by Harry and neither can you, Harry will tear him to limbs if he finds out that his best friend is talking with his ex who he still loves dearly.

Harry does talk about you to him all the time. How he cries at night for hours and how stupid he was to let go the only good thing in his life. Sure, Dean feels guilty about it but Harry should’ve known better than playing the victim in front of him. You were the one who got walked over by Harry and his friends, the one who puts up with his shit despite the hate and the judgemental looks, you’re working your ass off to earn money though it’s not one of those jobs that you can be proudly show them off.

Dean maybe his best friend but he disagrees with everything that Harry had done. And he just felt so bad that he wasn’t there that night to stopped them.

Rolling your eyes again, you give her a lopsided smile. “I’m not kidding, Maria. I’m gonna work to get that money, by myself. I admit, i would be glad to take the money from Dean but it’s not fair. So I won’t do that.”

Maria sighs, but a smile is playing on her lips. She completely adores you, the hard work you have given throughout these past few months she has seen you, never fails to make her heart melts. The love you have for your family is completely indescribable. And she prays that you’ll hold on to that,

“Okay, then suit yourself. Now, go ahead and brings this order to the coupl right over there.” Maria points with her thumb, sliding the tray to you. “I think there’s someone outside would love to meet you”,

In confusion, you turn your head around and spot a familiar young man with brown hair smiling softly at you. He gives you a gentle wave as soon as you turn around, mirroring his smile.

You hold your finger up, telling him to wait for a minute before taking the tray off the counter and place it on the couple’s table next to the window. Maria glances at you and gives a playful smile which you silently tell her to knock it off,

Dean is leaning against his car with hands in his pockets when you walk out, smiling over at you before regaining his posture to stand straight. A shy smile casts over your lips when the two of you greet with a friendly hug,

“Hey. What are you doing here?” You ask soon as the both of you pull away from each other’s embrace. “My shift is almost over.”

He nods, shrugging. “I know, that’s why i’m here.”

You stare at him with a sketchy look on his face, baby blue eyes staring at your brown ones and you can’t read what is going on his mind. “Okay...? what is it?”

“Was just thinking that maybe... you can swing by at the studio today.”

After he mentions the word studio, your face fall. Does he really thinks by bringing you over to the studio where your ex-boyfriend works at is a really good idea? You are not ready to face him nor will you ever be.

You let out a small laugh, “you’re crazy Dean. The answer is no. I don’t want to see Harry”

The way his name rolls out of your tongue feel so strange, considering you haven’t spoken his name for months. And honestly, that name used to give you goosebumps and the cause of your blushing cheeks. But now it doesn’t anymore.

“You don’t have to interact with him! Just stay with me. Besides, it’s not like you will be all alone. Sarah is there, Adam and Mitch are too.”

“They’re Harry’s friends” you state with an obvious tone,

“at the moment, not really. They’re giving him cold looks lately. Won’t speak to him unless for rehearsals and songs writing. Apart from Jeff, Lucy, Don, Annie, Jordan, Kel-”

“Why am i not surprised? Those people are the ones who trash talked about me. Wether it’s in front of Harry or not, and he had no interest on defending me whatsoever.” You cut him off before he can finish, breathing in deep as you recall the last moments you had together with him. “i just-- don’t want to get hurt anymore Dean. And they are not even his friends! They’re using him. They use his name to get into clubs, restaurants, after parties, you name it. As much as he had hurt me, i don’t want him to get hurt. He’s sensitive, you know that.”

Dean only nods, he knows that his friends are nothing but utter scums. He has been observing them for months and he cannot believe that Harry is gullible enough to think that they actually cared for him. They don’t and they never did. It was always him or Mitch who looks out for their green eyed friend, but he shoves him off and tells him to mind his own business. So he left it at that.

Then to see how frustrated you are at this time, he can feel a tug at his heart. You have condoned so many things lately, seeing you’re drowning yourself in bills, taxes, jobs, sweats, tears, makes him want to take your pain away but he doesn’t even know how.

Harry has hurt you deeply, yet he can’t understand why you still care about him.

“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” he says after five minutes of silence. “If i had an ex who treated me like dirt, i wouldn’t want to see her ever again. Probably would run for my life if we were in a room together.”

You let out a small laugh, it’s not really funny but you think that he’s doing that to only lighten up the mood. You gotta give him credit for that.

“I’m sorry Dean, maybe next time yeah?”

Harry is now sitting on his car, parked in front of your mother’s house as he thinks about what to say as soon as he walks towards the small house.

He tries so hard to get rid of the redness that is clearly visible on his green irises, but it’s no use. The tears are still falling from his eyes, no matter how many time he tries to get rid of the thoughts when he had hurt you. Seeing you cry was the most heartbreaking sight he could have ever seen, and to know that he was the cause of your tears few months ago he could never ever forgive himself.

Before stepping out of his Range Rover, he takes a deep breath and looks over at the mirror to make himself look presentable. He doesn’t want to look gross or disgusting when meeting your mom. And he definitely doesn’t want her to think that he’s looking like this because of you, he doesn’t want to play the victim. He’s the one in the wrong,

Harry takes long steps towards the house, his body is clad with sapphire blue sweater and a beanie thrown over his head, so that the fans won’t notice that Harry Styles is around.

He doesn’t want to be that guy at the moment. He wants to be just Harry this time. The Harry that is about to ask your mother’s forgiveness in less than few minutes.

His heart beats louder as soon as he hears your mother calls after he knocks on the door. Leg is bouncing rapidly as he waits.

“Just a second!” She calls out, shuffling inside

He can hear her steps getting closer and he feels his palms are sweating. Bottom lip is taken between his teeth, waiting for her to open up the door.

The door swings open suddenly, and your mother’s exhausted face comes into view. Messy dark brown hair is pulled into a bandana, he can tell that she’s about to leave judging from her choice of clothing.

As soon as she looks up, her eyes are widen and her body freezes as she stands in the doorway. Taking in Harry’s appearance, glancing him up and down before letting out a shaky breath.

“Harry... what are you doing here, my love?”

His heart wrenches. After all this time. The talks, the looks, the whispers that had been thrown at both you and her, she still calls him an endearing nickname and nothing breaks him even more than that. He doesn’t deserve that, at all and he should be ashamed of himself

With a soft smile, he nods at her. Pulling his beanie off slowly. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. Can i come in?”

Your mother is struggling what to say, and wether it’s a good idea for her to invite him in. But she knows that what happened in the past, stays in the past and she can never hold a grudge against him.

Harry is a good man, is what she always says to you. Despite everything, she knows damn well that he is not a bad guy. And she believes that he has a good intention on coming here, she can’t reject that.

She softly nods, a smile pulling into her lips as she opens the door wider to let him in. “Of course, make yourself comfortable.”

He thanks her before stepping inside carefully, his eyes are observing the small place she called home. To say that he’s hurt is an understatement, he pays attention to every small details in the house and noticing that they aren’t in a very good condition. The ceiling has a hole on it and there’s a leak in it too, a big pink bucket sitting on the corner to capture the drops.

The kitchen is a mess. Vegetables are sprawl all over the counter, cups are messily falling over the place as well. He sees there’s a few papers laying on the coffee table, and his heart almost drops when it says ‘Eviction Letter’. There are five of them, and he doesn’t know where your mother will go from there.

He wishes he could help you and your family, but he knows that you won’t approve of him doing so. This hurts his heart more than it should be, he imagined it if it was his mom in this state. He knows damn sure that he will fills her bills with his money,

Your mother motions him to the small dining table, gesturing him to take a seat. “Here you go, mijo. Sit down” She smiles as she takes a seat as well. “Sorry if it’s a mess. Have no time to clean it today.”

Harry waves his hand off, telling her it’s completely fine before taking a seat beside her. Setting down his beanie, he clears his throat before opening his mouth to say something. But nothing comes out.

“What is it Harry? Are you okay, my dear?”

He flinches when her knuckle makes a contact with his cheek, seemingly concerned as she stares at the bags under his eyes and puffy nose which she can only assume that he had been crying for days.

Now, she knows why he’s here,

Looking up to meet your mother’s eyes, he takes a deep breath in as he reminiscing the words in his brain before pulling himself together to speak to her. He doesn’t understand how you mother treats him like her own child this moment, yet he let his friends talked shit about her and you. The love of his life.

“I’m sorry” he croaks out, sniffling as he feels his nose starting to get runny. “i shouldn’t have done it. I love your daughter more than anything in the world and i’m sorry for treating her like shit while we were together. I couldn’t find a reason on why i said all the things to her because i wasn’t thinking. Then i let my friends talked bad about you and that was completely unacceptable.”

Your mother closes her eyes for a while, sighing as she nods. She listens to every word he says to her. Her hand coming down to rub his arm slowly as he cries, fresh tears are running down his soft stubbled cheeks and he cannot stop them. No matter how many times he tries to wipe them off,

“She’s an amazing woman. And you are too, Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m sorry for being such a coward. I’m sorry for not defending you and Y/N. I’m sorry that i had the nerves to let my friends got away with the words they had thrown about you. Words cannot express how sorry i am because my mother would be livid if i treated the both of you this way.” He chuckles sadly, remembering the times where Anne would just love to give him lectures and scolds about how to treat a woman right,

‘You’re a handsome boy. Don’t go around breaking girls’s hearts, yeah? Because that will break mine too.’

“But, i hope you can forgive me Mrs. Y/L/N. I know i have no rights to say it but i hope you can.” He whispers the last sentence and lean his back against the chair, fiddling with his thumbs with his eyes looking down on his lap,

It takes a while for your mother to process all of this, and it’s not easy. She appreciates every word he had just said and she knows that Harry meant every word of it. She believes him. He’s a very good and well-mannered young man and sometimes she feels sorry of how his friends treat him like he doesn’t matter, how they can just use him for their own pleasure then discard him like a piece of garbage.

She can’t lie to him if you don’t love him anymore. You still do, but you just don’t want to admit it. Every day your heart breaks a little when the thought of not having him by your side anymore.

“I believe you, Harry. I do.” She speak with a soft smile. He looks up to her with eyes brimming red, face looking skeptical because he can’t believe the words just comes out of your mother’s mouth. “And... Y/N, she still loves you too.”

For the first time in months, his lips pulls into a genuine smile as he no longer bother to cry again. He sits up straight, leaning forward to place his arms on the table. “She does, huh?”

Your mother gives him a wide smile as she nods. “She’s just a little stubborn to admit that. You know how Y/N is, right?”

Harry lets out a small laugh, nodding his head eagerly as he remembers how hard-headed you were while the two of you were together,

“Classic Y/N” He shakes his head, suddenly missing you more than ever. “Are you going out, Mrs. Y/L/N?” He asks, changing the subject,

Your mother checks her watch and curses before standing. “I am, thanks for reminding me Harry. I appreciate you coming in here, Harry thank you.”

He hugs your mother and kisses her cheeks before pulling away from the embrace. “Where are you going? I can drop you off.” He offers, grabbing the keys from the table,

Your mother is quick to shake her head, grabbing her brown coat from the rack as she slips in on her body. “No need my love, i’ll walk.”

And in that time, she also panics. Panic because she can’t just say that she’s going to the hospital to see your sister. He’ll freak out and ended up insisting to drive her there,

“Nonsense, I’ll take you it’s fine. Just tell me where to go.”

She learns that Harry is stubborn as well. He looks at her pleadingly, and she thinks that it doesn’t matter how many times she’ll turn him down because it won’t work. He just keeps on asking and asking until she says yes.

“To the hospital, my love.” She whispers, opening the door so the two of them can walk out,

But before Harry can take a step, the colour drains from his face and his rosy lips tremble soon as the word hospital fall from your mother’s lips. Thoughts are running on his mind as he thinks the worst possible reason on why your mother is going to the hospital with a sad look on her face.

Is your mother okay? Are you hurt? Were you in an accident or sick? Why didn’t you just tell him? Why did your mother invited him in when she was going to the hospital?

Smiling sadly, she extends her hand for him to take.

“I’ll explain in car, okay?”

“Maria! Can i take a rain check?” You call her out from the kitchen, busy dropping the dirty plates on the sink as you hurriedly pull the strings of your apron,

Maria barges in minutes later, her nose puffing as heavy breathe emerges from her mouth. She grabs her small towel and wipe the sweat that is forming on the crease of her forehead and down to her neck,

“Why? What happened?” She asks, eyes looking at you concerned with her hands settle on her hips. “Was it the landlord again? What was he saying?”

You shake your head, pulling your hair into a messy bun fast before checking your phone again to see if there is anymore messages from your mom,

“No. My mom told me to come to the hospital quickly. I don’t know why but it could have something to do with Beatrice. I have to get there quick.” You stumble with your words, thoughts are running through your head as you panic. Small tears starting to prickle from your brown eyes, you have no idea what to do if your mother is about to hit you with bad news. You can’t cope with that,

Maria rushes over to you and places her palms on your cheeks, trying to get you to look at her as she sees how much of a mess you are right now. “hey, hey. Stop it. Don’t over think something, Y/N. Everything is going to be okay, alright? Don’t stress this much. Your sister is fine, your mom is fine. She’s probably asking you to come over because Beatrice asked her to. You haven’t seen her in a while, right?”

You sigh, nodding your head slowly as she wipes off your tears. “yeah. Been so occupied with work i never got to see her in a month, i’m such a terrible sister.”

“You are everything but terrible! I have never seen a woman worked so hard in her life to help her family. I have never seen a woman sacrificed her school just so she can work to pay her family’s bills and sister’s surgery. I have never seen a woman so independent that she does not need a man to take care of her because she knows, she can handle herself well!” Maria snaps, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes stare at yours.

“Now, you’re going to take back everything you just said to me and get your ass to the hospital, sweetheart. Your family needs you more than this diner does. i’ll cover for you, don’t worry” She says, kicking her chin up to get you moving so you don’t have to take long.

She grabs your purse and jacket, shoving them to your hands then scrambles around the kitchen to find your house keys because she knows how clumsy you are with them. Good thing you don’t have a car, or else you would lose both of them.

“Here. Don’t rush okay? Take your time and let me know.” She softly says, kissing your forehead,

The love you have for her is indescribable. You look up to her after your dear mother, you rarely gets to see her these past few months and the only person that has the personality and mind as close as hers is Maria.

With a nod, you hug her tight closely to your body. “Thank you so much Maria. I’ll pay you back, i promise.”

Maria rolls her eyes playfully and shushes you, “aish! No need to dear. Go on now. Don’t forget to text me!” She reminds you again, pointing her red manicured nail finger at you,

Without doing anything else, you swiftly turn around and head towards the exit to haul a cab. You usually prefer to take the bus than a cab or uber, but the station is 20 minutes away from the diner you work at and you have no time to reach there.

Your mother has been blowing up your phone with dozens of texts, adding exclamation marks at the end of every sentences and nothing worries you more than that. Well not really. You’re scared that something already happened with Beatrice and then it would already be way too late to save her. Maybe that’s why your mom is sending you texts every minute...

To be honest, you have no idea why out of positive things that you can think of, the horrible thoughts manage to make their way to your brain and causes you much of a distress and nerves. You can’t contain them.

You’re pulling and tugging the strings of your jacket then switches to play with the hem of your diner uniform because of how nervous you get. Haven’t even realised that you’re biting down your soft lip too hard until your tongue manage to swipe your lower lip and taste a familiar metallic liquid, making you stop.

The driver parks the vehicle in front of the hospital lobby, and you’re way too deep in your thoughts that you really have no idea, you have arrived at the building. Pulling out a ten dollar cash, you shove the crumpled money towards the driver before stepping out of the car and rushes over to the receptionist and asks where your sister’s room is.

And for Heaven’s sake! Can they go any slower?

“Room 187. Just straight towards the hall and the room is on your left” The middles age woman gives you a tight smile before resuming to type obnoxiously on her keyboard,

Muttering out a faint ‘thanks’, you fasten your pace quickly towards her room as you feel your heart beats louder and a small sweat forming on your neck as well on your forehead. You pray to God that nothing will happen to your sister.

She’s just a baby,

You waste no time to swing the door open when you spot the room already and soon your mother figure and your paled sister comes in view, they shifts their eyes to you and breathes out a sigh of relief. Your mother smiles at you and gives you a hug, letting it lingers for a while before pulling away.

“Thank God, you’re here.” She sighs, looking at you in the eyes. “What took you so long?”

Pulling your jacket off, not once your eyes leaves your mother’s neither on your sister’s. “What happened? Is she okay?”

Beatrice looks over at you and smile weakly before coughing furiously, lifting her arms slowly at you. “Y/N” She croaks, holding another cough in her throat. “I’m so glad you’re here”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you smile back, taking slow steps closer to the bed and gently wrap your arms around your baby sister’s fragile body. Sobs breaks out of you when you pull away from the embrace, but your hands still tightly wrap around hers, not wanting to let go.

“I’m sorry for not being around much. How are you feeling?” You softly ask her, moving your arm a little to not nudge her injected dorsal palm.

She nods, eyes turning into slit and you can only assume that she’s pretty much exhausted. Perhaps from waiting for you and the dozens of medications they keep giving her. “I’m okay. Was just... waiting for you.”

You reply with a smile, gazing at her with much love and admirable in your eyes. The moment soon cuts off when your mother brings up a topic that had your eyes nearly pops out of their sockets.

“Pay her surgery? What? Who” You demand an answer from your mother, though you can see how she struggles not to say any word. But it’s too late to back out, your mother chooses to say it. “Tell me, who mama. Was it--was it, Dean?”

She’s quick to shake her head, moving her seat closer to sit by the bed so she can talk better with you. You watch as few strands of her dark brown hair falls to cover her eyes, causing her to push the hair back behind her ear.

“No, chica. it’s not... him. It was someone else” She speaks, hands intertwining as her voice gets lower, as if she’s afraid that you will break into a rage once you finds out who it is.

Feeling frustrated and annoyed, you give her a cold laugh. Eyes moving back and forth to look at her then back to your sister, who’s breathing is heavy and slow. You wish you can take the pain away from her.

“Are you just going to keep me waiting or what?” You ask with a rough tone in your voice. You don’t want to be mad or pissed, but you have sworn to yourself and to your family that you will pay your sister’s surgery with your own money. it’s a risk but she finds it better than to have herself rely on someone else’s cash.

The silence is driving you crazy. Because you try to get her to say what she wanted to say yet she can’t seem to find the courage in her to say it. Your mother looks down on her lap, debating on wether she should say it but mostly, she’s mentally beating herself up for speaking out too fast.

“It’s Harry.” You mother says at least, eyes looking up as she waits for you to burst out any second.

Then your face paled, brows furrowing as you retreat your hands from your sister’s causing her to whimper at the sudden contact. You cannot believe your ears! Is your mother insane or hallucinating?

“Harry? What the hell are you on about, Mom! This is not funny.” You snap, eyes burning in anger as you think to yourself how stupid and inconsiderate her mother is that she can pull out a joke at the time like this. “Come off with it, mama! Don’t fuck around!”

Suddenly your mother’s fear and concern turns into an anger soon as she hears you spoke the word. She sits up straight and lean forward. “Listen here Y/N. You will not talk to your mother with that kind of tone and words. You’re still my daughter and i’m still your mother. Respect me as your own or so help me God, i will kick you out of our lives!”

She finishes with a heavy breathing, glancing at Beatrice for a moment as she pleads to her to not start any fight. Your mother feels guilty afterwards, she shouldn’t have done it at the hospital. That’s just going to hurt your sister alot more.

You take a deep breath, nodding at your mother but still you’re upset and confuse of how your mother could bring up Harry this moment. You want to know why.

“I’m sorry. But please, explain to me what’s going on. What are you talking about? He didn’t even know you exist mom!” you jokingly add the last one but still manage to keep your tone firm. “Just tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

“He came to my house earlier. We... talked about something. Then he offered to drive me here and i told him why i had to go to the hospital. He broke down as soon as i told him what happened to Beatrice, my love. He cried... extremely hard and asked me how i was going to pay for all of this.” She explains, voice gentle as she traces her thumb over Sofia’s palm. “I told him that you’re paying. And that you had to quit school just so you can have three jobs to pay her surgery. He didn’t like the sound of that, chica. He knows how much you love your studies, so he can’t bare it. He wanted to pay for it all.”

“He’s a good man, Y/N. Please, you need to give him a chance.” Beatrice pleads, voice breaking as she speaks but you ignore her.

You sit there speechless. How dare for him to came to your mother’s house, asking for forgiveness and pay for all your sister’s medical surgery then hoped everything will turn out fine! That is not how it should goes and you can’t believe your mother would believed that man after he lets his friends said about your family. Your mother forgives way too easy and it has always been a trait of hers you particularly dislike.

“What the-” You stand up quickly, going to the other side of the room, pacing back and forth because you have no idea how to fucking deal with this. “How did he even find you? Mom, we can’t trust him okay? This has nothing to do with my break-up with him but who knows what he will about to say next! He would probably rant this shit out to his friends and i will no-”

“Carmen, i got you the caramel macchiato hope you like it. The espresso ran out. The line was super long.” A familiar voice cuts you off with a small chuckle follows after.

It’s Harry.

His eyes moves from your mother’s figure to your eyes and shock is evident on his beautiful face. Breathing stops and mouth parts open as he struggles what to say next. He can sense that he’s about to loose his grip around the coffees.

You’re here. You’re really here.

“Y/N, y-you’re-” He says, still looking at you,

You scoff, not in the mood for any of this. “Save it. I’m gonna get some fresh air.” After that, you quickly move towards the door and shoves him with your shoulder, walking out of the room as you runs to exit the building.

Tears starts to stream down your face. After not seeing him for months, he’s finally there standing in your sister’s room. Thoughts are running on your head, not knowing how to face him nor your mother at this point. You should feel happy and grateful that Harry offered to pay but you don’t want to be someone else’s gossip anymore. This is completely bullshit and you refuse to even stand near him after your break-up.

“Y/N! Wait!” He calls out, you crane your neck briefly to see him running to you, nearly knocking a few people. “Slow down, please! I want to talk to you”

You don’t listen, you keep walking and walking as you finally walk out of the building. Breathing out a shaky breath, you pull out a pack of cigarette from your purse as you struggle to take one stick out.

You heart someone’s panting from behind and you don’t doubt for one bit that it’s not Harry. Hand running over his brown hair as he tries to get closer to you, a frown on his face after he sees you holding something that he hates.

“Y/N, love. Please listen to me.”

Shaking your head, you turn your head about to leave. “No. Leave me alone.”

You haven’t even take a step because Harry has already marches his way towards you and grabs your fore arms, turning you to look at him as you squeal and struggle to let go from his grip.

“Let me go! You don’t deserve to be here. Just go, Harry!” You shakily says, sniffling as your eyes meets his green ones. The eyes that you adore throughout your relationship.

“Not until you listen to me.” He states again, and he hasn’t notice that he’s crying until he sees you. Here, standing close to him with his hands wraps around your delicate ones. “I’m sorry.”

Closing your eyes you look down, shaking your head as you continue to struggle so he can let go of his grip. You don’t want to heart this. You had enough. He hurt you badly that the thought of you talking with him again had not once crossed your mind.

You miss him but you don’t want to talk to him ever again.

“I was a fucking asshole to you. I was a terrible boyfriend and i let those people got into my head. You were so perfect for me that you’re willing to give up everything including your classes. But i was so blind to see that.” He whispers, sobbing but he keeps maintaining his posture and say what he needs to say because he does not want to lose you again.

“You have done everything for me. Sacrificed nearly everything as well and i didn’t give a single damn about it. They--they were wrong about you. They were wrong about your family, they were wrong about your mother, they were wrong about your background and it pisses me off that it’s all they care about.” He continues, hands slowly falling to rest on your hips and his heart moves a little to see you’re not pushing them away.

“It doesn’t matter, Harry. It doesn’t matter now, you’re too late. I-- i refuse to let you or any of your friends talk like that about me. You have no idea what it’s like okay?!” You yell at his face, hands on his chest to keep him from coming closer. “You have no idea what it’s like to have a mother who doesn’t have a decent job, a father who went to jail for something he didn’t do, a sister who’s life is on a line because i have no fucking idea if she will survives or not!”

You break out into sobs, pouring everything you haven’t got the chance to say to him. He looks hurt. Hurt because he had no idea about everything that has been going on in your family and he’s a fucking dumbass. Why? Why would he hurt you like that?

“People look down on me many times. Including your friends. But i stayed because i loved you, Harry. I loved you fucking much and you didn’t care.” Tears are blurring your vision and it’s pointless to wipe them away, knowing they just keep on coming. “We won’t work. We won’t ever work.”

He shakes his head, hands grabbing the either side of your face as he forces you to look back at him again. “No. No, no, no, no. We will work. We will, okay? I-- i love you, Y/N. I never stopped, i missed you laying next to me and i missed seeing you looking at your laptop for God knows how long because of school’s paper and it breaks me to hear it from your mom that you quit. I can’t let you do that, i want you to do something that you love. That’s why i’m offering, Y/N.” he reasons, thumbs wiping the salty liquid falling from your eyes.

“I care about them and i care about you. I love you.”

There’s a million reasons why you should give him up at this moment. You can’t bare the thought of getting hurt again in the future, that would be a huge risk. Heartbreak is something that you had overcome for numerous times and you can’t say that it wasn’t a big deal. Because it was. And you don’t know how long you can pull this through. You’ve lost so many good thing in your life and you can’t ask to God to give them back to you.

But, you still love him. Despite everything he had put you through, you still love him. The love in his eyes is undeniable, it’s all for you and not even him can’t deny that. He’s a beautiful person, inside and out. He would never ever had the intentions of hurting someone on purpose. Especially the one he loves. And that is you.

Your mother always says, ‘beautiful person deserves second chances. But remember it’s not the beauty of appearance you should see. It’s their hearts.’ She always reminds you of that with every chance she got.

And maybe... you should.

“Harry... i would be lying if i say i didn’t miss nor love you” You watch as his eyes lights up a little but he knows deep down that he can’t get his hopes up. “I’m not sure how we’re going to do this but... i’m willing you give you a second chance.”

He breathes out a small laugh, nodding his head rapidly as he feels the butterflies erupts his stomach. He truly can’t hide the excitement over the fact you still love him.

“Okay, baby. Okay. I’m just, so glad to have you back. Also i wanted to let you know that i’ve cut ties with all of them. Told them to never speak to me again or there would be a hell to pay.” He assures, biting down his lips trying not to smile hard because he knows for a fact that his cheeks will hurt.

You nod, stretching your lips into a happy smile. “Okay. I’m-- glad to heart that but you shouldn’t hav-”

“No. I should. And i’m glad i did. Fuck them. They have no rights to say that about you.” He scoffs, cursing them over and over in his head. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. Thank you. Oh my God, thank you baby”. He whispers, slowly leaning into your lips and presses his rosy ones to kiss you,

It catches you off guard but you kiss him back nonetheless, and you feel him smile against your soft lips because you decides to. Nothing truly makes him happier than this. Nothing.

As the two of you disconnect your lips, smile is adorn on both of your faces. Foreheads leaning against eachother, unable to contain the small giggle that escapes from your lips.

“Welcome home, baby”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles drabbles #one direction imagines #harry styles

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peach-jaehyunie · 5 years

Text

You Were Beautiful part III

Warnings: Smut, swearing, {slight} Mommy kink, {not warnings} but also some angst and fluff

4.1k

A/N: I bet Jaehyun’s real parents are actually really lovely, I’m so sorry

Jaehyun hadn’t tried to contact you since Saturday morning; it was Sunday morning, and you had ignored his messages. Was it rude? Was it selfish? Maybe, probably; but you had felt an absolute fool on Friday. Jaehyun attempted to meet your gaze, and you replied shortly to his pleasantries. Johnny and Yuta tried to break the ice that had formed in your little jogging group, not understanding why the mood had drastically changed.

It was Johnny’s turn to host breakfast afterward, and you forced yourself to try as hard as possible to socialize and act normal. You joked easily with Yuta while he scrambled eggs, and caught Jaehyun frowning in deep thought out of the corner of your eye. Johnny was at the convenience store and Yuta in the bathroom when Jaehyun broke the icy silence in the kitchen.

“Can we talk about it, please?”

“About what?” You sighed loudly.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I never wished for that—I didn’t even know that it was being announced yet. I really did want to tell you; I feel ashamed about not being honest with you.” His voice was low and his eyes never left your figure. You slowly shook your head, annoyed with his words.

“Well, I felt exceedingly stupid. What did you gain? Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid...if I told you I would never have a chance—“

“To fuck me? To say that you apparently love me?” You turned towards him, your voice getting louder “Maybe I would have still slept with you if you had told me. Maybe we would have been lovers of ill fate with no happy end...but you took away any power I had in that decision by not telling me.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you! It’s not like I knew far beforehand that we were going to have sex—“ Jaehyun stopped talking very abruptly, looking beyond you; Johnny’s roommate, Ten, had come into the room with neither of you noticing. The three of you blushed scarlet, and Ten looked uncomfortable. You felt tears of shame prick your eyes as the sound of the front door opening broke the silence in the room. Johnny was whistling, and Jaehyun drew attention to the fruit he was cutting while you discreetly wiped the tears that threatened to fall.

The rest of breakfast went smoothly, Yuta, Johnny, and Ten talking and laughing comfortably. The food sat like lead in your stomach, and Jaehyun barely touched the food on his plate.

“Are you okay?” Ten pulled you aside and asked as you were about to leave. You had only met him a couple of times, and were not close with him.

“I’m fine, but thank you. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” You said with an apologetic smile. You knew that Jaehyun was under no obligation to tell you about Misook, despite this you almost felt...had. You played his love confession over and over in your mind; maybe he said that to every girl he slept with, but that seemed unlikely because it had most definitely killed the mood a week ago. You were gradually realizing just how much you didn’t know Jaehyun. Usually, he hung out with Johnny and that’s when you might see him. He had asked Yuta to the art gallery opening before you, and only asked you to accompany him when Yuta declined. Apart from a drive home every so often, you could only count the number of times the two of you had been alone together on two hands. You had absolutely no idea what his job was, only that it was something at the company he was set to inherit. There had been an awkward introduction to his parents one morning a few months ago: it was the only time the two of you had gone jogging together without Yuta or Johnny, and Jaehyun had insisted on stopping by his parents' house to sign a few papers. He also insisted that they weren’t going to be home, but that was quite untrue you realized once you got there. His parents interviewed you for about 20 minutes before Jaehyun managed to pull them off.

There was this gnawing feeling of regret in the pit of your belly; unfortunately, you had enjoyed it so much and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about doing it again.

Standing in close proximity of Jaehyun now made you extremely aroused, so by the time you got home you had quite literally been wet for hours. During your shower you let your fingers wander, stroking yourself and massaging your breasts; it all feels really nice, but you can’t get the release you desperately crave. For nearly 15 minutes you are trying everything that has worked in the past, even fantasizing about people that you found attractive—except Jaehyun. You are finally forced to give in and imagine that these are Jaehyun’s hands, and picture how Jaehyun’s face looked from between your thighs. It leaves you a shaking and moaning mess as your orgasm builds and builds before washing over you.

————————————————————————————

On Tuesday when you walk into the small teachers' lounge to make a tea, you see Yuta and Johnny in deep conversation that is abruptly halted as you approach them with your steaming cup.

“Hey,” Johnny says with a softening expression, while Yuta frowns down at his hands. “Wanna sit?” He gestures to the chair across from himself.

“No, I only have a couple of minutes.” You say, wondering if Ten might have said something to his roommate. You really hoped not, the thought of everyone knowing that made your stomach hurt. They had obviously been talking about you when you came into the room.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks as you go to turn away.

“Of course, why?” You smile, but your stomach feels sick.

“You seemed upset the other day.”

“I was just in a bad mood.” You lied with a smile, and with a little laugh, you turned and left. Through the years you had perfected your fake smiles and laughs to look and sound almost identical to the real thing. They made your lies more convincing, and allowed you to appear to brush off almost anything without so much as an emotional scratch. In reality, your stomach was churning just thinking about the possibility of Ten telling Johnny. You didn’t want their disdain, or worse; their pity.

You tried to pinpoint exactly what had you so upset. Any relationship that might have developed between you and Jaehyun would have been short lived, and you were mostly in it for the physical reasons, right? But if it was just sex, why did you feel wronged? You simultaneously wanted to avoid Jaehyun, yell at him, and have him back in your bed.

The first thing is difficult to do when Jaehyun shows up at your apartment that evening. He’s completely unannounced, though it’s unlikely that you would have responded if he had tried to contact you. You watch him for a few moments through the peep-hole, he stands outside your door soberly clasping a brown paper bag with a determined expression on his face. He seems to decide to leave when he places the bag on the ground and turns away, without a thought you open the door and he turns back to you quickly and picks up the bag looking surprised that you chose to see him. Your action surprises yourself, the feeling to avoid him is apparently not strong enough.

“Here’s your stuff,” Jaehyun says as he holds out the bag to you.

“My what?” You have no idea what he could have of yours. He glances down and speaks rather apologetically.

“Your bra, it was in my car.”

“Oh...thanks.” So much for yelling at him. The silence was awkward, and you both wanted to say something but were waiting for the other to speak first.

“I’m sorry, again.” Jaehyun finally says, and again you feel a flare of anger in the pit of your stomach. Your grip tightens on the bag you’re holding, and you purse your lips as your gaze meets his. I trusted you, you want to tell him.

“What was the point? You had plenty of opportunities to tell me—hell, you had months to tell me! If you had told me personally, even after we slept together, I wouldn’t be anywhere near as upset.”

“Then it was real.”

“What?” He had spoken with such finality, but you couldn’t let him get away with an apology and half an explanation.

“Then it was all real! I was finally getting the life my parents dreamt up for me when I was born: big company, arranged marriage to a beautiful wife—like a puppet, unable to make any executive decisions. Needless to say, they didn’t approve of you as a suitable partner for me or replacement for Misook. Telling you—whom I love—that I was marrying someone else was heartbreaking: it was admitting my final defeat.” His voice was frustrated and he looks away from you, clenching his jaw.

“Jaehyun,” his head whips around to look at you, and his expression immediately softens when your eyes meet. “You don’t even know me,” you tell him sadly.

“Not as well as I would have liked, but better than you think.” His smile is regretful as he continues, “I know you hate coriander, that you get bored easily when you don’t have a normal schedule, you like music that makes you feel sad, your hands are always cold, you lie much too well, and it bothers you if someone doesn’t push their chair into the table after they are done using it—or if someone doesn’t close a door properly! You’re extremely practical, but you also love a good thrill. You want everyone to think that you’re calm and aloof so that nothing can truly get to you, but I know that you notice and feel a lot more than you like to admit.”

“Jaehyun, everyone feels that—“

“I would wear my heart on my sleeve for you if I thought that would work.” His sincerity leaves a tight feeling in your chest and you feel more drawn to him than ever. You don’t do anything more than look into his eyes, but when he moves to turn away you grab the front of his shirt. His brown eyes were hopeful as they scanned your face, was this fair you wondered; you might never be able to reciprocate his feelings. You shifted closer to him. Maybe that would be better, it would hurt less when this all ended in a few months. Jaehyun let you make every move until you were pulling down his head to meet your upturned lips, which he kissed softly yet hungrily. Your hands grip his shirt tightly as you gently tug him into your apartment; your mouths never parting.

————————————————————————————

You wake up before your alarm, which you turn off as you get up so as to not wake Jaehyun. After more than a week of spending almost every night with him, there is still a little part of you that doesn’t trust that he’s not left something else out. It’s an irrational fear you experience almost every morning: the dread of when the next big lie will come out. But it’s okay, you’re the big secret now.

It’s a secret on Sunday morning when Jaehyun is begging to fuck you.

“Pretty please,” he whispers against your neck as you’re straddling him and his hands are gripping your ass.

“We have less than fifteen minutes, so you better wear a condom because I don’t have time to clean up your mess.” You say to him with a raised eyebrow. He feigns hurt.

“Sassy, aren’t you darling?” But he pushes you off to run to the bathroom for a condom. “You’re very eager,” Jaehyun comments when he returns to find you naked from the waist down.

“So are you, baby.” You grin as you take his perky cock in your hands, stroking it and then giving the tip a teasing swirl of your tongue. Jaehyun lets out a low groan, before plopping down and rolling on the prophylactic. In no time you have straddled Jaehyun again and sunk down onto his plump cock.

“Oh god, baby boy, you fill me so well” you moan as you ride him. You feel your release building quickly with each roll of your hips, and Jaehyun helps by thrusting up into you. Your breathy gasps fill the room and you push your hands up Jaehyun’s shirt to pinch his nipples. You pick up your pace and let out a loud whimper as you rush towards your orgasm uncomfortably fast.

“Oh my god, YN, holy...fuck.” Jaehyun just manages to get out as you begin to squeeze his cock with your pussy to get him off faster.

“I can’t hold off much longer,” you gasp between moans, and you bring your hand up to your mouth to stifle them.

“Cum, Mommy,” he chants the name under his breath, it turns you both on more than you dare to admit. Jaehyun rubs little circles on your clit bringing you to your peak. Your spasms bring him over the edge just after you.

After, you’re off him in a flash to clean up your own stickiness that threatens to run down your thighs.

“Come on, baby boy, you don’t have time to just lay there.” You say kissing his forehead and smiling at him fondly as you put your jogging pants back on. You run out to the couch and grab a magazine off the coffee table just as the buzzer sounds, letting you know that Johnny and Yuta have arrived. Jaehyun bolts out of his bedroom to answer the door.

“Hi,”

“Good morning!” Johnny replies happily. “Good morning, YN!” He says as soon as he spots you on the couch. Jaehyun looks extremely flustered for a moment as if deciding what to do next.

“Okay, should we go then?” He asks grabbing his keys.

“Dude, your pants?” Yuta says, and Jaehyun looks down at the jeans he threw on in a rush.

“Oh,” he quickly returns to his room.

Yuta, Johnny and you wait for Jaehyun by the door. He comes out in less than a minute later in a pair of shorts and begins to quickly put his sneakers on.

“Do you want blisters?” You ask him.

“What? Oh, socks!” And he runs back to his room. Yuta visibly rolls his eyes, and you try to hide your smirk.

“Is he okay?” Johnny asks with a laugh.

It’s a secret on Friday night When you’re out for drinks with Mark, Daniel, and Jiwoo.

“I’m horny” Jaehyun whispers into your ear. You laugh and smile at him,

“Okay,” there is no preset plan, so Jaehyun just leaves toward the direction of the bathroom while you stay to finish listening to the story Mark is telling. Mark’s laughter is somewhat contagious, but he keeps laughing before he gets to the really funny parts.

“Does anyone want another drink?” You ask standing up. You give the bartender your order “And have it brought to table 7, please.” You have left Jaehyun alone for nearly two minutes by the time you reach the bathroom.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming.” He laughed into your neck.

“I’m not, you are.” You tell him between kisses. He pulls away and his eyes visibly darken as the harsh fluorescent lighting touches his face.

“I’m going to have to make it up to you when we get home.” He says with a grin as he kisses you again. You smile against his mouth as you palm the front of his pants, before pulling away and grabbing toilet paper to cover the floor for you to kneel on. Your touches have left him sufficiently hard by the time you have freed his cock from his underwear. Your hands squeeze the backs of Jaehyun’s thighs while your tongue teases the tip of his dick. At first, you alternate between licks and tongue swirls until he’s fully hard and you begin to shallowly bob your head, hollowing your cheeks but keeping your tongue rubbing the underside of his cock. Jaehyun is trying to control his breathing as best he can, but you can hear the sharpness on the intake and a slight moan as he breathes out. You relax your throat and take him all the way in, closing your eyes on the tears that form from the strong urge to gag. You swallow around him a few times, eliciting soft whines that spill from his lips, and then set a slow pace hoping he will catch on to thrust into your mouth at his own speed. You pull against his thighs and he seems to understand what you want as he starts to slowly rock his cock into your mouth. You bring your hand up to plays with his balls, earning low moans and he picks up his pace. You keep your tongue pressed up against him as he thrusts quickly but gently into your mouth, his moans getting more frequent and slightly higher. You hum against him to distract yourself from wanting to gag.

“Holy...oh god, I’m gonna...oh fuck” Jaehyun says between heavy breaths and he makes one last strangled moan before spilling his cum into your mouth. Some spills out of your mouth and down your chin before dripping into the floor by your knees. Post orgasm Jaehyun is always beautiful and pink, and his hair had stayed perfectly bouncy this time around. Before you can wipe off your chin, Jaehyun takes a piece of tissue clean up his cum on your face.

“You’re perfect.” He tells you with a soft smile and his hands cup your face.

“Perfection doesn’t exist.” You tell him with a smile that’s meant to be sly but actually feels a little sad.

It’s a secret that four of you share when you go to the movies with Jaehyun, Misook and her boyfriend, Minseok. You and Minseok pretend that you’re an item tagging along with the engaged happy couple. Neither of you is thrilled by this arrangement, but it’s perfect for very public outings as people have been keeping tabs on Jaehyun and Misook for the society page. Misook has an abrasive sense of humour, but she is otherwise kind and knows what she wants. Minseok is a TA at a University and is definitely more of a listener and watcher than a participator. You double date with them once a week to meet Misook and Jaehyun’s parents’ expectations of them spending time together. Probably not what the Songs and Jungs meant, but at least they were in the same room so it was a step toward marriage.

You and Jaehyun try your best to never miss an opportunity to kiss in empty elevators, or have sex in his car late at night in the parking garage. You go grocery shopping together to make sure that each of your refrigerators is filled with things that the other likes. There are lazy movie nights with no sex, and other nights that you can’t be together so you just call and talk on the phone until late into the night. Jaehyun makes your favourite dish from your country, and it’s good but you make it with him again to show him how to make it even better. He shows you his favourite places in the city, mostly reclusive spots where you can sit and think, or are at least inspired to speak in hushed voices. You both laugh a lot, which feels wonderful.

It’s your secret that you’re falling in love with him. He tells you often that he loves you, never expecting anything in return for that confession; he just wants you to know and he knows he only has a limited time to say it. When he kisses you goodbye at the door of your apartment, you want to say it back to him. When he brushes your hair back from your face, you want to say it. Or when his legs tangle with yours on the couch or in bed, your chest aches to say those three words. Sometimes they burn in your throat, and they keep you up at night to listen to Jaehyun’s soft breathing.

One morning about two months in, you roll over in Jaehyun’s bed with a smile on your face; only to find his side of the bed empty. You listened for a moment and heard nothing in the apartment, you checked your phone and read a text from Jaehyun saying that he went out to get you some banana milk. You smile happily and close your eyes, tired from a night of intense lovemaking. You force yourself to get up and go to the bathroom to wash off any of the stickiness from the night before. You come out of the bathroom and pick up a t-shirt of Jaehyun’s that’s thrown onto a chair to put on. You hear noise in the kitchen and smile at the thought of him letting you sleep in.

“My legs are still wobbly from last night!” You say loudly with a laugh as you make your way down the hall towards the kitchen. You hear another noise, but no reply.

“Jae?” You ask timidly, reaching for the wall for more support. You stand there in Jaehyun’s shirt, embarrassed and unsure of what to do as Jaehyun’s parents look at you with an annoyed expression. You bow uncomfortably and say hello. They do not return your greeting and his mother grimaces and turns away from you. You offer tea, which his father accepts, and sit across from them in Jaehyun’s living room while the tea is steeping.

“Where is Jaehyun?” His father asks.

“Out getting banana milk.” You say with a heavy blush.

“I bought Jaehyun that shirt.” His mother says coldly, she’s finally looking at you with an expression of contempt.

“Oh,” is all you can say, you have never wanted to be able to magically disappear so badly in your life.

“He doesn’t even drink banana milk, why is he going and buying it?” She was now talking as though she couldn’t see you. You feel chilled, and you wonder if your nipples are visible through the shirt. You hear a key at the lock and let out a shaky breathe of relief. Jaehyun immediately sees the three of you sitting there as he walks in.

“What’s going on? How did you even get in?” He immediately begins defensively.

“We pay for the apartment, you think we don’t have a key? And what the hell is this, anyway?” Mr. Jung gestures at you. “You’re getting married in a few months, and this is how you’re wasting your time?” Your throat was actually aching from trying not to cry. Jaehyun looked like he was about to lose it, but he sat down next to you and held your hand before taking in a deep breath:

“It’s my apartment, and I can have anyone here whom I please.” He says very controlled “Misook has also chosen to follow her heart’s desires for the time being. We’re giving you so much, allow us this one happiness.” Jaehyun squeezes your hand as he says this. The bag with your banana milk in it sits at his feet.

“What Misook’s parents let her do is their concern, it’s not our fault they can’t control—“

“Control her? I’m almost thirty years old! I have as much right to be with someone I love as the next person.” He says angrily.

“Jaehyun—“ his mother starts.

“Get out.” Jaehyun snaps, standing up, pulling you with him. His parents slowly get up to leave, his father taking one last sip of his tea. Jaehyun tucks you into his side as the door closes behind them, and you bury your face into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry about that, YN, they won’t do anything though. Are you okay my little love?” You look up at him and two big tears run down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, worried, and he cups your face and softly wipes your fallen tears.

You love him. You love him. You love him. You love him. You love him. But you can’t bring yourself to say it, because you know it will hurt so much.

185 notes · View notes

ohwhatamessiam · 6 years

Text

Self Control - Chapter 9

Summary: After learning that Chris’s divorce might not happen, you’re left with a hurricane of emotions and uncertainty on how your relationship can survive.

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: FEELINGS!!!! Language as usual, UNPROTECTED SEX (PLS USE CONDOMS Y’ALL AND BE 18+ IF YOU’RE INTERACTING WITH THIS CHAPTER.)

A/N: I’m back guys! I been working on this one since June while my amazing beta, @fangirlisms-22, and I have been super busy with graduating and work, but our schedules have briefly realigned to give you this ultra emotional chapter, that you all may or may not hate me for. I have no clue when the next chapter will be up, but there’s 4 more to go before this officially ends! Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts, feelings, wishes, etc!

Tags are open for this story, so send me an ask here to be added to it or my permanent list!

Self Control | Masterlist

After spending so much time with Chris, staying away from him felt like cutting off a part of yourself. He’d become a safety blanket for you as a writer, a way to focus your ideas and creative energy. He always knew how to give you the confidence boost you needed. And as your deadline for Robert grew closer, all your abilities and hope seemed to fade away.

You’d ended up skipping class that Thursday. Instead, you left the attendance sheets in Chris’s mailbox and stayed at home, tucked into bed with your laptop under your fingers. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape him.

Your sheets smelled like him, he’d left clothes all over your place. Even when you tried to fall asleep at night, it felt like his weight was still pressed against you, keeping you warm. But when you’d roll over, he wasn’t there.

No matter how badly your heart hurt and your body wanted to feel his fingers against your skin, you told yourself that this was better. Giving him time to figure out his shit was necessary.

But goddammit, you hated that nearly every waking thought of yours was about him. And it didn’t help that he’d been consistently leaving you voicemails and texts everyday. You did your best not to read or listen to them, but your resolve wasn’t that strong, and him pleading for you to come see him so he could apologize (again) in person, didn’t help you focus anymore either.

Your short story was due Sunday evening. And you had nothing. Your name in bold black letters and blank page after blank page.

Saturday night, you finally give in. If you can’t focus on anything else besides Chris, you might as well write about him.

As you bury yourself under a heavy blanket in the dark, the words seem to come to you. Your fingers type quickly, ghosting over keys and filling up the empty pages you’d been stressing about for weeks. All the things you wanted to say, the things you wanted to hear from him, they presented themselves to you, mapping out your own feelings for Chris.

You pour your heart out until 4 am, only stopping to go to the bathroom or get another glass of water. When you finally close your laptop, you already know the pages full of your emotional turmoil are probably not publishable, or even fully intelligible, but you tell yourself that when you wake up you’ll salvage what you can.

You roll onto your side, clutching a pillow against your body, and try to pretend that he’s having as hard of a time with all this as you are. That’s he’s lying awake, wishing he could bury his face in your hair and fall asleep with you. Your chest hurts, the same feeling of betrayal tugging on your heart, leaving your lungs ragged and your breathing labored. With its heavy presence, it tells you what you already fear.

That you’ve lost him.

But no, no, you hadn’t lost him.

Because he was never yours to lose.

You managed to turn your jotted map of feelings into something else. A letter from a character, written in a private moment. A letter that would be left for their partner if and when their relationship ended.

It read like a history of these two character’s relationship, detailing their most important moments and their least significant as well. Little things that made them what they were, big things that showed what they could be.

And the narration read as a mourning of their time together. That, while it was good and the writer wanted this to last forever, they also understood that other factors could affect their happiness. That their perfect pairing, the overwhelming feeling of belonging together, could be ended by something outside of these two.

Obligation. Uncertainty. Guilt. Unfinished business. History. Honor.

These things could get in their way. And the writer fully expected them to, why else would they be writing this out?

The piece ended with a heartbreaking lament, waxing on what the writer hoped would happen, that their happiness would last until their natural deaths, and that this letter was born out of a place of insecurity and fear. But the writer stated that they knew there was something else forcing them to pen this. That eventually, this letter would reach its destination.

And the last two sentences felt like salt in a wound: a warm thank you for the memories that were shared, and would still live in their mind. And a sorrowful goodbye.

Tuesday came sooner than you were prepared for.

You trudge through your morning routine and catch your fingers shaking when you need them still. Your teeth chew on your lips until they feel raw. Your heart pounds faster against your rib cage with every mile you drive toward campus.

As you park, an email notification lights up your phone. It’s from Robert. He finished your story and loved the format and the narration in the piece. He wants you to come to his office Thursday to break down the story in person.

Your nerves only falter for a moment, as you exhale a deep breath and feel the weight in your chest lighten for a second. So you hadn’t written a completely shitty story. That meant you still had time to prove you really did belong in the creative writing program.

Somehow, you manage to calm your nerves during your classes by focusing only on the subject being covered, and refusing to let your mind drift to the person it so desperately wanted to obsess about.

And as the time for your class nears, your stomach feels physically ill. It’s clearly just nerves, but every ounce of you is afraid to see him. Afraid of what he might have decided. Afraid that all your fears are right.

You beat him to class and take up your usual seat in the corner. Your heel taps against the floor as you stare at your phone, watching the time count down. The nausea continues to grow stronger in your stomach until Tom slides into the seat next you.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks as he pulls his laptop out of his bag.

You hesitate, your lips opening like you’re gonna respond, but you don’t know what to say. You weren’t sick and you hadn’t told anyone you were sick. But at the same time, you were sick with something that wasn’t illness related.

Tom watches you out of the corner of his eye, taking your silence as a reason to elaborate. “Prof. Evans said you weren’t in class because you’d come down with something. He extended his office hours since you couldn’t be at yours.” You nod, quickly recovering from your confusion. “Since the next paper is due this Thursday, I was planning on stopping by your hours last week, but I went to his instead.”

“Do you still need help?” you ask him, focusing on this sweet kid and not your internal conflict. “Because you can stop by my hours today.”

“I’m almost done with it, but I would really appreciate it if you would look it over,” he gives you the smallest smile, pleading with furrowed brows and puppy dog eyes.

You nod, “I look forward to reading it.” The grin Tom gives you warms some piece of you that’s been frozen for a week. You return his smile, knowing it’s the first time you’ve smiled in days, and your foot slows its tapping. Everything might just go back to the way it was.

As you’re about to give in to this little moment of bliss, you hear the students grow quieter, and you look past the young man in front of you.

The second you see him, your heart feels like it stops, like it can’t handle this moment. Your breathing slows as you watch him walk down the center aisle. His clothes are wrinkled and his beard looks scraggly. He moves quickly to the platform and keeps his eyes averted from his students.

You tell yourself to stay seated, going to him will make it obvious to everyone that you two are involved. He shuffles his papers out of his bag and you see how dark the circles around his eyes are, how large those bags have grown. He hasn’t been sleeping well without you, or maybe he just hasn’t been sleeping well without anyone, and it’s taking its toll on him.

He looks up at the class, his bloodshot eyes distracting from his forced smile as he says, “Today, we’re finishing up our unit on the Modern Era of British literature.”

You drop your gaze to your laptop and try to ignore Tom’s glance your way. The class goes on for another 20 minutes of you staring at the clock, ignoring how tired Chris sounds and how the class chuckles at his jokes. He’s discussing T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets when you finally look up at him, needing to shift and stretch your muscles from your bent and hidden position.

Even with his exhaustion breaking through every facet of his appearance, he’s still teaching the class with enough enthusiasm to make his students forget all those things. He’s switching a slide on the projector, his voice carrying around the lecture hall with such smoothness, “Eliot’s focus on time and the humanity that exists in the world-”

His words drop off as his eyes meet yours for the first time in a week. The blue looks grayer, sadder, and his lips hang open for a moment as his tongue searches for words. You hold his gaze, your heart suddenly sinking in your chest, and you can’t move, can’t breathe.

Like time froze around you two as if you were part of the poetry he’s discussing. You’re not sure how long you two stay there, staring at each other. You can only feel your emotions arresting you. Hope bubbling up, telling you he looks like shit because he’s not with you. Fear pinning you down, telling you this is really over. And that maybe it needs to be. Pride warming your cheeks, since you have this power over him, making him lose his train of thought mid sentence. Panic screaming at you to look away, echoing around your skull that this is not the time or place to hash out your relationship. And unease whispering that this is it, this is your last shared moment, your last silent exchange.

Eventually, someone’s pen clicks and Chris gulps, blinking as he turns back to the class, “-is both timeless and also timely, as World War II began while he was working on the last two poems.”

You drop your focus back to the desk, grounding yourself in your seat. The muscles in your body tense as your mind seeks an escape, your brain telling you that you shouldn’t have come today. Knuckles turn white as you clench the edge of the chair, anchoring your body, forcing yourself to stay.

When you glance away from the faux wood grain of the desk, Tom’s watching you with wide eyes. Concern radiating from him as he instinctively leans toward you.

You force a tight lipped smile and shake your head.

There’s no need for him to worry about you when you’re already filled with enough frustration and anxiety for the both of you.

You hide in your office after class, praying no students will show up after that awkward moment in the middle of the lecture. Every time someone walks past the tiny window in your door, your breath catches in your throat. Fortunately, no one shows up in person, so you catch up on the attendance points you haven’t graded from last week and work on the assignment instructions for the final.

The computer says you have 15 minutes left of your office hours. You know Tom has a class during the first hour and a half of your office hours, so he normally doesn’t show up until your day is almost over.

As you check your email one more time, you hear a knock come from your door. Your body goes rigid as you look up to find who it is.

Chris pushes your door open, peeking his head in before he fully steps into your space. You force yourself to swallow and straighten your back, try to camouflage your racing thoughts and your body’s immediate response to his presence.

He stays quiet until he locks the door behind himself, and you start to tell him that Tom planned to stop by, but the way he looks at you kills the words in your throat. He moves quickly, pushing himself forward and onto his knees as his hands turn your chair to face him.

His eyes are so big and pained, openly displaying his suffering. His fingers rest on your knees as his lips finally move, “I miss you so much.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” you answer, trying to keep your cool exterior, but inside your broken pieces are trembling in your gut.

“You’re more important than a poetry discussion.” Your heartbeat speeds and you swear those words would have made your knees weak a week ago.

You swallow your urge to grip his hands in your own. Ignore your need to lean towards his tragically beautiful face. You can’t give in that easily now, especially since he hasn’t told you where his marriage stands.

“Chris…” his name slips past your lips quietly, like if you say it any louder you’ll break his moment of begging. And if things weren’t as strained as they are, you’d be relishing in his pleading. “I can’t do this. I can’t be with you if I don’t know where you really stand.”

He exhales, his fingers actually twitching against your skin. “And I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how to keep sleeping here, keep pretending everything’s okay. I know this has been an intense few months, but I didn’t think being without you would be this hard. It was never like this with Jennifer.”

You know that’s not a clear answer, but you give in a little, letting your shoulders hunch as you lean closer to him. “I love you, but I can’t be your fall back.”

“I’m-, I’m not asking you to.”

“So then you’ve made a decision?”

He gathers your hands in his, his thick lashed eyes staring into yours, “I know more now than I did before and this week without you has been torture. I know I can’t be happy without you in my life. And I don’t want to have to live without you.”

“Tell me.” Warmth builds behind your eyes as your vision becomes cloudy, as tears fight to take you over.

His tears beat yours, slowly sliding down his cheeks and catching in his beard as he let out a ragged breath. “She can take so much from me if I fight her. She found out about us, and I’m afraid of what she’ll do.”

“I shouldn’t have to be your second choice,” your voice breaks as your own tears burn against your skin. “You two weren’t happy, and that should be enough. I don’t care what she does to us.”

“But I do. She’ll be mad at me. She’ll take her anger out on me, but I care about what she does to you. How she’ll drag your name through the mud, tell the school.”

“Do you think she’d really do that, Chris?” Your fingers slide up his beard, wiping at his tears. “She’s the one who asked for the separation. She’s the one who was ready to call it quits.”

“She was, but when I last talked to her,” he closes his eyes as he rests his head in your hands, his forehead dipping forward. “She acted so differently. She brought up having a family, having the future we always wanted.”

“A family isn’t going to fix your marriage,” his eyes meet yours and you instinctively lean toward him.

“I do really want kids.”

“Yes, but your unhappiness will just be distracted by children. And kids deserve to grow up in a happy environment.”

Chris pushes himself up, his face coming mere inches from yours. “You’re right.” His hands cradle your jaw and his thumbs trail across your cheeks and lips, taking in the face he’d missed so much. “I might have wanted that with her 2 years ago, but I don’t anymore. I want what I have with you, now.”

The words push more tears over, happy tears this time. And his lips find yours. You cling to him, taking in his taste, his breath, holding onto the warmth of his skin. His fingers brush your neck, yours knot in his hair, keeping him pressed against you. Your body feels alive for the first time in a week, and your legs push you out of your chair.

He stands up with you, his hands trailing down your spine as his tongue traces the seam of your lips. You nearly moan from the contact alone. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he guides you onto your desk.

You know it’s wrong. You can’t be doing this now, here. Anyone could see you two, you both could lose your positions at the university.

But you have him back. And it feels so good.

Your laptop gets tucked in a drawer as Chris pulls away from your lips. “The last week was torture without you. I never want to feel like that again.”

A smile tugs at your mouth and you push Chris’s suit jacket off his shoulders. “As long as we’re together, neither of us will have to feel like that.”

He rests his forehead against yours, slowing your attempt at getting his clothes off. “I need you to know you’re the only person I want a future with.”

Tears threaten to escape from your eyes again and your lips tremble. Instead, you crush his lips with your own and undo his belt. His hands unbutton your pants, and you pull back from your fervent kisses only to wiggle them off your legs.

Chris’s fingers trace circles on your thighs, slowly dancing closer to your core. His lips leave yours to trail gentle kisses down your neck, and you try not to laugh as his beard tickles your skin. You rake your nails over the back of his shirt, wanting to rip it off of him.

He kneels in front of you, his fingers pushing your underwear aside. His hot breath fans over your wetness as his eyes lock with yours. He licks a painfully languid stripe across your folds that almost sends your eyes rolling back in your head. But you keep watching him, reveling in how his face looks between your thighs.

As his tongue finds your clit, a small whimper escapes your lips. He grins up at you, relishing in the needy sounds you always make. His beard scratches the inside of your legs as his mouth teases a moan out of you. This time you can’t stop your eyes from rolling back in your head. Your back arches as your hands slide into his hair.

Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm building, but you want him closer to you. You need to feel him. Your fingers tug on his roots to get his attention but it causes him to moan against you. Your breath hitches, but you work your hands to the sides of his head and try to angle his head upward.

After a moment, he realizes what you’re doing and looks up at you.

“Chris,” you start, already feeling your muscles clench around nothing. You aren’t going to last much longer. He pulls back, his wet lips panting. “I need you inside me.”

He pushes himself up and you tug his pants off his hips. You line his cock up with your entrance as you stare up at him. He grips the underside of your knees, wrapping your legs around him. You keep watching his face, waiting for him to push into you. A hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek, and he leans toward you.

“I love you,” he whispers, mouth hovering above your own. You rest your head in his hand and close your eyes. Savoring the scent of his skin, the warmth of his body, the way his lips trace yours. Trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

He pushes inside you sharply and your muscles tighten around him, your toes curling as your legs lock, keeping him in place. His groan vibrates against your skin, and your arms wrap over his shoulders, using him as support.

You let him have control now, letting him thrust into you at his own pace. Clinging onto him like he’s the only thing that matters.

Because for right now, he is.

Chris doesn’t spend Tuesday or Wednesday night with you, but you do text him and see him in passing. He does his best to calm your nerves about the story you wrote, telling you that Robert wouldn’t lie to you about liking it. You don’t let Chris read the story though. He doesn’t need to see your anxious ramblings on your relationship.

You make it through the lecture on Thursday without anymore awkward pauses tipping off the entire class that you two are involved, but Tom barely says hi to you. You try to talk to him, but he just shrugs or gives you one word answers. You write it off as him having a bad day, and instead try to quell the nerves making your stomach upset.

No one shows up to your office hours, which only allows your anxiety to grow even stronger, but the moment before you walk into Robert’s office, you get a text from Chris: You’re going to do great. He loves you almost as much as I do.

You take a deep breath, letting Chris’s words calm you. You’ve got this. Things will be fine.

You push into Robert’s office with your head held high. He greets you with one of his signature smiles, charming and fun-loving, yet somehow still professional. “(Y/N)! It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to talk, have a seat!”

You drop your bag next to the ornate wood and leather chair that sits opposite of his huge desk.

“How have you been, Robert?” you ask as you clench your hands together in your lap.

“I’ve been great, but I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving break. Susan and I always go back to Illinois to see her family. Are you going home this year?”

��I was planning on staying here this break, working on things.”

“Ah, of course. Finals are coming up and there’s always grading to do.” You nod and look down, realizing your knuckles are turning white from strain. You flex them, try to shake them out so he won’t notice your stress. “So how are you doing?”

“I’m okay, just been a little stressed. Worried about whether my story was any good,” you answer and give him a weak smile.

“Oh, you have nothing to worry about. I think with a couple edits, it’s definitely going to end up in a publication.”

“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking across your face.

“Yes, really. You’re a great writer (Y/N).” He turns his chair to face you directly, his elbows resting on his desk as he leans toward you.

You let out a sigh of relief. It turned out okay. Everything was going to be fine.

You reach down to your bag, pulling out a notebook to take notes on, “Thank you, Robert. It really does mean a lot. What edits do you think would make it better?”

“I’ll get to that, but there’s something we need talk about first.”

You stop writing to look up at him, your eyes growing wide. “What is it?” He stays silent for a moment, his eyes watching you closely. You’re vaguely aware that you’re not breathing.

“Your relationship with Chris.”

Tags: @anakin-skywalkers @irishdancr24 @lostboyinneverland @suz-123 @funlizzie02 @void-imaginations @cryingovershipsthatneversailed @breezykpop @jcc04220 @nys30 @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @guera31 @wickedcitywitch @thelondondreamer5 @patzammit @lilypalmer1987 @talannalew @thatonetuesdaywhensam @supperunnatural20 @evanstanfanatic @lucinapomona @r5rocks101 @dolphinpink310 @bojabee @thefridgeismybestie @ssweet-empowerment @sophiealiice @lostxsea

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botanistlester · 7 years

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Sweet Pea (33/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: Holy crappu! Chapter 33! Only one more chapter left and then this fic will be finished! I literally am in shock right now honestly. I'll save all the gushy stuff for the next chapter, but i'm still in shock lol. The final chapter is more like an epilogue so it may be out before Saturday since I already have half of it written! So keep your eye out for that! Sorry this chapter is late, i had a lot going on these couple of weeks and then like three hours ago I was almost finished with this but my roommate asked if I wanted to watch The Killing of a Sacred Deer (it's a movie i promise) and i was like. Um yeah who do you take me for OF COURSE! So here we are, three hours into sunday, and I'm an ass! Thank you all for reading this and for your lovely comments! The song at the beginning is from Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye

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Chapter Thirty-Three

Now and then I think of when we were together. Like when you said you felt so happy you could die. Told myself that you were right for me, but felt so lonely in your company. But that was love and it's an ache I still remember.

University starts before Phil is truly ready for it.

One moment, he feels like he’s just minding his own business working and lazing around the house, and the next he’s scrambling to do last minute school shopping (i.e., buy a pack of pencils and that’s it). It hits him hard, but his friends are there for him and he even shares his creative nonfiction class with Charlie, so he can’t be too terribly mad.

The first couple of weeks go by rather slowly. His professors are all nice, and Phil had gotten a doctor’s note from his psychologist saying that he may have to miss school sometimes due to an ‘underlying mental illness’, which really just meant his post-traumatic stress disorder that occasionally flared up here and there. While it had gotten better, he wasn’t completely healed yet. Apparently that shit either took years to go away, or even never went away. But Phil was optimistic and every time he could smell Nico’s old cologne or watch Nico’s favourite show without going into freakout mode was a win for him.

Things got stressful fast though, sadly, which is true for all of university. One moment, he was just minding his own business, scrolling through tumblr at odd hours of the day, eating snacks, and the next he was scrambling to finish a ten page paper about why sex education in school is important while completely forgetting to eat as he rushed to finish. Dan was practically shoving food down his throat during it all, berating him for not starting the paper earlier.

What a hypocrite, honestly. Phil had seen Dan rush to finish a paper multiple times because his depression had gotten in the way of doing it earlier. At the least, he should at least understand when Phil did it too.

But then again, maybe he did understand. Maybe he was shoving food down Phil’s throat and promising him a bubble bath after he finished because he knew exactly what Phil was dealing with emotionally, knew how hard it was to complete things on time when the world was pressing on your chest in a way that made it hard to breathe.

After a while, his brain had had enough of the strain and decided to give up after five pages, spewing out a load of bullshit that didn’t make sense in the slightest. Phil buried his face into his palms, his eyes tearing up, and pressed his fingers against his eyelids to keep the wetness from leaking onto his cheeks. It didn’t really help too much other than to make his eyes hurt with the pressure.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Dan asked softly, draping a soft blanket around Phil’s shoulders. He kissed the side of Phil’s head, nuzzling his nose into his hair. “Email your professor and see if she’ll let you turn it in a day late.”

Phil laughed humourlessly, wetly. He didn’t think it was that easy. Plus, wouldn’t that just make him look bad by asking for special treatment? “And let my professor know that I was slacking on this assignment? I’d rather die.”

Dan hummed and pulled Phil’s laptop off of his lap, ignoring the small protests that came out of Phil’s mouth when he did so. Without asking, he replaced the laptop with himself, plopping on Phil’s lap like he was a dog. He poked Phil’s nose. “Mental health isn’t being lazy or slacking, my dear boy. It’s an actual disorder of the brain that renders you incapable during periods of time where you would otherwise be okay. Sometimes you can be in a bad place for weeks, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Your professors already know that there’s something going on with you. Asking for an extra day to complete the assignment is just you trying to be responsible and practicing self care. If you don’t finish tonight, then you’ll look like you don’t care about it at all and you’ll get points taken off of your assignment. Which would you prefer?”

In the end, Phil emailed his professor. Although he did do it with a lot of whining and grumbling, just to make Dan mad. (It doesn’t matter that Dan doesn’t get mad at him anyways, no matter how hard Phil tried. He was always way too understanding, damn it).

After only five minutes of refreshing his gmail anxiously, Dr. Lucifer replied with a chill, ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll give you until Wednesday to complete it. Feel better Philip!’ There was even a smiley face at the end, so out of place after Phil had carefully constructed his email, made sure there were no typos, practically typing out a double spaced, 12 point Times New Roman persuasive paper about why he needed an extra day to complete. And then here was his professor, signing off with a fucking smiley face.

“Was that so hard?” Dan asked softly, brushing a hand through Phil’s hair.

Phil pouted and, because he was a jerk, pushed Dan off his lap light enough that Dan wouldn’t get hurt and could catch himself when he fell. “Shut your mouth, Howell, you owe me a bubble bath.”

Phil did end up getting his bubble bath, complete with a robot bubble bar from Lush, candles around the tub, and his favourite anime playing on his laptop that was set on the toilet so he could see. However, he also got an armful of Dan, which was something pure and good.

When Dan joined the bath, it didn’t matter that they were both too giants trying to fit into one tub. It didn’t matter that Phil’s legs started to go numb after a while or that they had to get out quicker because they got too hot too fast. All that mattered was that they were spending time together, with Phil’s arms around Dan’s waist, gently running his nails over Dan’s stomach because he knew that Dan liked it when he did that.

Most of the time, Phil liked to be held by Dan simply because it made him feel safe and warm and loved. But today, Phil wanted to be able to hold somebody. Holding something against his chest made him feel like his heart was full, like there was someone who needed him and who he needed in return. It was so relaxing, in his opinion, especially when that person was Dan, who he could press kisses all over his shoulders and neck. Who’s hair he could mess with, twirling a curls around his finger and pretending like his fingers were curling irons.

It was nice. It got Phil’s schoolwork off of his mind, that’s for sure. And when Dan turned around, capturing Phil’s lips in his, asking if he wanted a ‘good job blowjob’, Phil definitely didn’t have any complaints.

Phil had a break in between his Poetry and his Creative Nonfiction class where he liked to go to the different dining halls to grab some food. Depending on the day, Phil would meet up with either Louise, Dan, or both, and they would have a meal together, talking about how their classes were going, or how life in general was going. Phil really liked Louise and he was glad that they were getting to know each other better, thanks to Dan.

Plus, seeing Louise and Dan together reminded Phil of how he and Chandler used to be. They had their own inside jokes and would sometimes just break into laughter as soon as they made eye contact for no apparent reason. Louise made fun of Dan with no shame and Dan laughed so loudly that his voice would go all high pitched and squeaky.

Whereas most people may feel like they were a third wheel after something like this, Phil didn’t feel that way at all. It was nice on days where Phil didn’t feel up to talking too much, and it was nice on the days when Phil wanted to join in and create his own inside jokes with them. Watching the two of them together was a gift in itself, because Phil liked to watch how Dan interacted with people who weren’t, well, him.

When Dan wasn’t talking to Phil, his voice was louder and more brash, more obnoxious. He was more sarcastic, kind of mean, but only in a joking way. He liked to tell people to fuck off, liked to tell them that they were twats. He cussed a lot and was a dramatic piece of shit that was so painfully obviously studying something in theatre.

With Phil, Dan was all smiles and soft voices and warmth. Sometimes he would get all competitive and act like he was the most important drama queen on the planet, but then other times he would be all cuddles and kisses and compliments. Phil would love to tell the whole world about Dan’s big praise kink whenever Dan was in his boasting mood with Louise, but he didn’t. When he smiled at Phil, he made these doe-eyes that really made him look in love, tone quiet when he teased.

In short, Dan was a lot gayer with just Phil around.

Today was just one of those days where Phil didn’t really feel like talking. Dan understood this and didn’t press him for answers, knowing by now that Phil sometimes just needed time to be quiet and think about life. Everyone had those days, and Phil was having a day like that now.

Dan was holding his hand on the table, and Phil was grateful once again that they had opposite dominant hands, that way they could hold hands while still eating. Phil was eating a taco bowl made with spicy shrimp and Dan had gotten a sub sandwich with a taro bubble tea. Despite Dan’s efforts to make Phil try the drink, Phil refused, saying that he was afraid it would taste like a potato.

Louise and Dan were in a dispute about which bubble tea flavour was the best. Louise was stuck on mango while Dan said that the milk tea and taro were definitely the best. Phil just smiled and sat back, sipping on his own earl grey bubble tea. He liked it, but it wasn’t the best he’d ever tasted at all. He just hadn’t been in the mood for anything particularly fruity, so this was the most logical answer.

“How’s your tea, Phil?” Louise asked, drawing Dan’s attention towards Phil as well.

Phil shrugged and sipped at it again. “Spicy. Wait, no that’s not what I-” he was cut off by the sound of Dan trying to hold in a laugh, but failing miserably as it came out with a snort. He made eye contact with Louise, whose eyes were watering from trying not to laugh, and then they all burst into laughter. The table was practically vibrating with their noise, and Phil’s throat hurt from cackling so hard.

When Louise could finally get in a breath, she wheezed out, “Phil, that is the whitest thing I have ever heard you say.”

“I forgot what the word for herbal was!” Phil whined, which only made Dan laugh harder.

“Earl grey isn’t even an herbal tea, Phil!”

Phil pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your mum isn’t even an herbal tea.”

Louise shook her head, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm down. Her makeup was a bit watery and messed up now, but it didn’t look bad. If anything, it was just endearing. “I can’t believe we’re still using your mum jokes.”

“I can’t believe you’re my friend,” Phil shot back, shaking his head in disappointment at himself. In all honesty, he was really grateful for both Louise and Dan, and they both knew that. Without them, Phil would probably just be sat in his apartment with no friends and sad piano music playing in the background.

The epitome of depression.

Just then, Phil glanced around the dining hall that they were in and his eyes came to a stop on someone who looked slightly familiar. It took him a moment to realise why they looked familiar, because this person had curly brown hair with blonde highlights, and Phil didn’t know anybody with blonde highlights.

But apparently he did now, because Nico was standing across the dining hall, in line at the bubble tea shop. As opposed to the other times Phil had seen him, this time he was completely alone and staring right at Phil with a hard frown on his lips.

From where he was sitting, Phil couldn’t see the freckle constellations on his face. He couldn’t see the colour of his eyes or how they shined emerald in the light. He couldn’t see the lines between his eyebrows or each individual strand of hair. He couldn’t smell his cologne or hear his voice.

And yet, Phil could hear his voice. He could smell his cologne. He could see the fucking freckles on his face and the glitter of emerald in his eyes and the lines between his eyebrows and each individual strand of hair. If somebody had asked him if he could draw constellations connecting each freckle together with only a pen and a piece of paper and no map, then Phil would be able to do it perfectly. Because even a year later, the memory of Nico was still burned into his head so intensely that he still couldn’t forget all of the tiny details that made up the man.

Dan squeezed Phil’s hand but Phil was so focused on the matter at hand that he hardly noticed. He could feel panic build up in him, making his skin pale and shaky. He felt nauseous, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been whenever Phil had seen Nico before. This time, it was just a smooth thrumming in his bones, vibrating him, making him feel like his skeleton was trying to shed off his own skin.

He hated that he was doing this in front of Louise, hated that he was showing weakness once again in a public setting. Every time he thought that he was doing well, that maybe for once he was taking his PTSD by the balls and throwing it against the wall for good, it seemed to be thrown back in his face in one way or another.

“Phil.”

Nico didn’t look away and Phil couldn’t bring himself to either. They were frozen, thinking about a time when they were together, when Phil had put Nico first no matter what it did to his own mental health. Back when Nico’s opinion meant more than his own, when he had done everything to keep Nico and had gotten nothing in return but harsh words and a cold shoulder. Now being with Dan, Phil doesn’t know how he’d been with Nico for so long when he had constantly felt like shit. But he also knew that it wasn’t that simple. He’d been trapped by the sick idea that that was what love was supposed to be like, thanks to all of those sick love stories that made him believe that love meant sacrificing parts of yourself for your partner even if it makes you sad.

“Phil. Phil, hey.”

Dan’s hands were on both of Phil’s cheeks then, turning his head to face him. His hands were cold against Phil’s hot cheeks, but his eyes were warm like tea. His eyebrows were crinkled with concern, his thumbs rubbing over Phil’s cheekbones to try to bring him back to the present.

When he finally got Phil’s eyes on him, Dan smiled softly and bumped their foreheads together, nuzzling his nose against Phil’s. “Hey,” he murmured quietly.

Phil tried to smile but he only succeeded in his lips twitching up slightly, eyebrows furrowed like he was worried about something. Face pale like he had seen a ghost. “Hi,” he whispered, voice shaking slightly.

Ignoring Louise’s presence completely, Dan pressed a kiss to Phil’s nose. Feather light but full of feeling. Full of care. A small I’m here for you. Phil glanced out of the corner of his eye, back over towards Nico. He saw the way Nico was gritting his teeth, clenching his fists. Saw the way Nico muttered under his breath and then turned away, getting out of line and walking out of the dining hall.

“Hey,” Dan said again. “Look at me. Are you looking at me?” He pulled away and pressed kisses against Phil’s forehead, his cheeks, the corner of his lips. Phil was looking at him now. He was always looking at Dan. “Good. Keep your eyes on me. I’m here, okay? Everything is going so well, you’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, you know? You’ve gotten so far and you’re doing things for yourself and even if you trip and stumble sometimes, you don’t let it stop you. You keep going no matter how hard it is. You’re so strong, Phil. You always have been.”

Phil closed his eyes, let Dan’s words wash over him. With Nico out of the room, he was starting to calm down, but it was hard to completely grasp the present enough to get himself out of the past. It was almost as though he had hands grabbing at his legs, trying to pull him under until he was gasping for breath, completely submerged in memory that he didn’t quite want to remember.

Slowly, Dan started to pull him out, whispering to Phil how he inspired him every day to be a better person, how Phil had gone through hell and yet had gotten out despite not believing in himself. When he ran out of things to say, he started talking about what was going on in their lives at the moment, how Phil had gone back to school and was doing so many things with his life now.

When Phil’s breath audibly stabilized, Dan kissed him lightly on the lips and pulled back slightly, looking at him with that calm smile on his face again. Phil’s eyes fluttered open and he stared into the warm brown, his heartbeat starting to calm. Dan grinned. “Better?”

Phil nodded and managed to smile back, albeit a bit shakily still. “A bit,” he rasped out. “I mostly just feel tired now.”

“Do you need to go back to the flat and skip out on Creative Nonfiction for today?”

This time, Phil shook his head. “No, I should go,” he sighed out, bumping his forehead to Dan’s and putting his hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly. “My writing journal is due today and I don’t want to deal with asking another professor for another extension. Better to just get it over with.”

Dan was beaming at him and he looked so full of sunlight that Phil was afraid he might burst. Phil gave him a quizzical stare, and if Dan was a dog with a tail, he would be wagging it right then. “You didn’t freak out that bad!” Dan exclaimed as reasoning for being so excited. Phil pursed his lips as Dan continued. “You didn’t pass out, you didn’t start crying or have to leave. Fuck, you’re even going to class afterwards. That’s amazing, Phil!”

Phil was absolutely floored. He didn’t really think about it like that. All he had been thinking was that it was ridiculous that he was still dwelling in the past, that he was still panicking. Because he did panic, he did get anxious and upset. But this time, he had actually been able to get a hold of his emotions without something drastically changing. “I…” he started, and then laughed awkwardly, shaking his head in amazement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

While there was still anxiety inside of him, Phil hadn’t had a full blown panic attack. And it was while Nico was in the room. Every time Phil had imagined seeing Nico again, it had never turned out well. He had always thought he would freak out or pass out or all of the above. But this time, he didn’t do any of those things.

“We need to celebrate,” Dan joked, and it was then that he seemed to realise that Louise was still there. Poor Louise, who was just eating her food and scrolling through her phone without paying them any mind. She was so obviously trying to give them space, but her ears perked when Dan started to speak to her. “Louise, do you wanna buy Phil an ice cream?”

Phil laughed in shock, shoving at Dan. He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t just ask people if they’ll buy things for me, Dan!” he scolded his boyfriend, giving him what was supposed to be a harsh look.

Louise jumped at the chance to be a part of the situation though, because she was reaching across the table and grabbing Phil’s hand in both of her own. With the most serious expression on her face that Phil had ever seen, she said, “I will buy you every goddamn ice cream in the world if that’s what you want.”

They stared at each other. Phil with his mouth hanging open and Louise with an unreadable expression. The longer they stared, the more laughter built up inside of Phil at the absurdity of the situation, and then they were both giggling. Louise squeezed his hand. “Seriously, Phil. I’m buying you ice cream whether you like it or not.”

“Fine,” Phil huffed. “Let’s have a full blown party in that case. I expect strippers.”

“Can’t forget the strippers. They’re essential,” Dan said.

Louise nodded and pulled out a mini notebook from her purse, jotting something down inside of it with a pink pen. “Got it. Ice cream and strippers. I’ll throw Phil the best gosh darn anti-panic-attack party there ever was and you better be there. Or else.”

Phil didn’t know what the or else meant, but he knew that he was going to be there for sure, surrounded by people who he loved and cared about, and who felt the same for him. Because this was the kind of thing that people should throw parties for apparently, and he was just going to have to accept that.

Accepting it wasn’t very hard, after all.

Chapter Thirty-Four

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #botanistfics #botanistlester #phanfictioncatalogue #fanfic #fanficiton #phan fanfic #dan and phil #gay #sweet pea #phan chaptered #phan angst #phan happy ending #writing #sp

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shytiff · 3 years

Text

May Small Wins

1 - lazed, went to racheel’s place and put my motorbike there, went to slipi jaya with silvi devi reza to watch seobok (it was fun!!), had iftar at the yumz green sedayu. It was raining when we get back. prayed maghrib and isya in some random mosque. went back and arrived at like 8 past sumn. showered, slept like a babyy

2 - lazed, slept and woke up at like 11, went to nila’s house, practiced doing eyeliner by borrowing nila's (focallure brand), iftar at green sedayu foodcourt (originally intended to go to the yumz but it enforces actual distancing) with angkot ppl minus tik will. Arrived home at about 9-ish.

3 - magang as usual. Went to rm. Took mrt to lebak bulus. My inaco salary finally came. My head kinda hurts after tarawih. Ended up skimming over bj alex lmaooo. Did not shower today lol,,,,

4 - added dr dafsah's revision to the excel database otw to rsf. Pak nardi took a while to arrive. Left rsf early to go to the bank. I (((finally))) activated m-banking lmaooo wow the features are neat wow im not jahiliah anymore. Found this method of just let it sweat anyway during tarawih lmaoo. Preferably with long sleeves bcs somehow you feel less of the sweaty feel compared to tshirt.

5 - sampling - data entry - RM as usual. Theres no new RM. Read a goood dramione fic by bex chan even if its not complete, its okay. Im okay :"))). Iftar was soup, salad, chicken katsu and french fries. Its been 2 days that i practiced sleeping-to-rain-sound. The first night was spent as a dreamless quick sleep (its over before you knew it), but tonight i dreamed abt almira's wedding lmaoo.

6 - no sampling today!! Still went to rsf tooo go to the mall w regen lmao. Did some data entry. Went to PP by mrt. Went back by going to halte gbk and thankfully the kalideres one arrived after only waiting for 5 mins. Its surprisingly quick, compared to lebak bulus - pesakih trip. Took abt 20 mins to jelambar.

7 - no sampling today too. Dr vera gave us lebaran cookies! Did gcp for bu suryati a5. Went to rm, finally finished the available rm. Went home early. Can finally relax since its the weekend.

8 - literally laid in bed til my body hurts. Rly want to read sumn but dunno what. Finally decided to read momoiro heaven. And rere hello. And after iftar i read lack of love. And just like tht, my saturday was gone. Cant bring myself to do things

9 - its another day of lazying (or self sabotaging, cant tell). Read spy family and its effin hilarious. Wasted my sunday. Cant bring myself to even move and i just laid in bed all day.

10 - last day of work in the weeekend lmao. Felt better than being in AR, but still not that much productivity. Went to RM. Phone call w fianti along the way to plan food in almira's bridal shower. Went back at 12-ish. Picked up my dress from risma busana. Walked to and fro halte kebon jeruk. Prayed zuhur close to ashar in kfc's mushola. Felt better after ~8k steps. Had homelab's green tea mixed with vsoy. It honestly made me feel better. Matcha, or caffeine, sure is amazing. At least i had a sense of normalcy before losing all the will to self-care

11 - consumed internet entertainment u til i was sick and tired of it. Watched a lot of cut videos. Granny came and stayed over. So i slept upstairs

12 - same as 11 but upstairs. More relatives came near iftar time so i excused myself to shower. Slept in mom n dads room at like 12-ish. Watched hp goblet of fire since keisha and karins newest obsession was draco. We squealed together over liking enemies to lovers trope haha,,,,

13 - Somehow all of dad's jakarta relatives came for lebaran. the last time i checked, there were some bridges being burned. prayed eid at home. watched perempuan tanah jahanam (which was surprisingly not scary). ate. napped. talked about personal things w keisha and karin. i cant believe the time has finally come where we talk about this kinda stuff. watched you’re next (it barely has any plot, just gore). they went back at about 8 pm and i just sleptttt yall lmao i didnt shower today. disgusting, i know

14 - cam barely get out of bed. Managed to shower at zuhur time. Watched dalbang and laughed like crazy bcs its just that funny. Read fanfics. Tiktok. Ate once and had greenfield yogurt at the evening. Fell asleep. Woke up at 1 and snacked on 1 pack of oat krunch

15 - run bts. Originally planned to go to flavola but it was still closed, so i went to dm's dunkin. Ordered orange juice and oeanut choco donut but somehow the price wasnt package price hhh. Turns out my clires account was somehow banned. So i contacted the admin. Instead of doing dr dafsah's excel i ended up taking off the makara sticker from my laptop. Bought some stuff for almira's bridal shower. Bought arirang at hari2 (its funny bcs yesterday i was seeing online marketplace, planning to buy it, but turns out hari2 the magical place had buy 2 get +1 deal for arirang.

16 - run bts. Managed to move my body a bit. Did 20 squats (ill elaborate on this later). That improved my mood. Tidied up some of my stuff. Saw the paper bag of random memorabilias by friends.

17 - went to rsf by tj. left kalideres 06:45 and arrived at RSF 8:15. sampling. went to RM (still no new ones). picked up by mom. went to salemba for almira’s bridal shower. originally planned to get padang at citra minang behind BK but it was closed. so we drove around looking for open ones. ended up buying it in a small (but crowded) padang place near a big padang restaurant lmao. was the first one to arrive at acacia. checked in, pulled the bed near the wall. showered. its hilarious sometimes with a bit more serious discussion anjayy. went home w febby who drove and clara

18 - went to mcd to get lunch (since everyone’s fasting) and tried to muster the will to do something. i didnt manage to do anything except shopping online (brought dusty pink hijab at hijup). got spicy chicken and iced coffee. (spoiler alert: tomorrow i got mencret2 lmaooo). read my suha and beyond the skidipapap its actually rly good

19 - went to RSF (with mom as usual. quickly snapped RM pictures while mom was waiting. went with her to mami’s house bcs she and uwak will fly to banjar. finally got to meet haekal, he’s such a smiley babyy its basically free therapy. planned outing with nisa lmao. from soekarno hatta we went to vintage vibes lmao since we’re already out. vintage vibes is more crowded now. and there’s less good findings now. went back emptyhanded. ate chicken arirang since there’s no food. fell asleep at like 06:30 until early morning lmaooo

20 - woke up at 2-ish am, played my phone, fell asleep at like 9?, woke up again at 11 lmaooo. went to sbux. had matcha latte. did some inaco work. todays the most productive ive been this week.

21 - went to gi with febby to also meet up with fi, bought falsies and glue (later proved to be of a horrible quality), siraman and pengajian almira (first time seeing an actual siraman), went to blok m w nes ren ara gen. Tried naruto takoyaki at little tokyo, went to daitokyo (i didnt eat anything), and got matcha cake, sakura and mango raspberry gelato at kebun ide. Picked up by mom. Renata gifted me bts 2021 winter package photocard 🥺🥺

22 - iluni internship webinar by dr naldo. Grabbed fried chicken master. Stupid time management etcetc made my start makeup at 12 (febby went out at 13:30). My falsies and hijabdo was done by herrr thank god for the help. Went to swissbel. Didnt take a pic w almira bcs time. Almiras wedding at damai indah golf pik. My skin was TERRIBLE at the wedding. The make up didnt stick prolly bcs of vitacid. Thank god for masks,,, went back home w febbyy. Made tiktok lmao

23 - lazed. Went to flavola. Its finally daytime caffeine again w kopsuscok. Did dr triya's translation work and finished it at home. She transferred the fee at like 11pm

24 - off to RSF with mom. no new medical records. wrote fuad’s name on the medrec borrowing form. continued to nisa’s place w mom. lazed, played w haekal, put some patient’s phone number on the inaco excel. Off to GBK with nisa and sarah. parked at abc field (shouldve parked near GBK’s H gate). saw moja museum 2.0, took lots of pics. mo paint (moral lesson: draw the background first!! not the foreground). finished at 16:30. ashar at masjid al-bina. nisa dropped me off at gbk tj station. prayed maghrib on the bus since the traffic was so ughh. met atikah in lippo puri. decided to eat seirockya so we walked to puri. talked about a certain someone along the way. we rly talked about it while walking until we arrived at seirockya. atikah treated me uyeyy since she and racheel will stay in depok for 2 weeks starting tomorrow. got the shoyu ramen and gyoza. took the taxi to atikah’s place. mom’s waiting there lmaoo i was like “noo dont wait at jco, just wait at atikah’s”. still felt energized that night in my bed. no sleepy2. like 100% awake.

25 - woke up at like 9:30. i basically did nothing today. didnt even shower lmao (i showered last night). read the good teacher in one go. zoom meeting w dr eva. i rly need some structure in life, goshhh

26 - showered and went to mcd. got nasi uduk, breakfast wrap and milo for 26k (thanks mcd app promo and mcd duta garden’s menu machine, i dont have to interact with another human). planning to do dr dafsah’s excel after all the data is complete, and still no new inaco data, so i ended up.... online shopping at bobobobo....... (bought outer and white culotte). tidied up the writings on my stickies (plenty of words has accumulated). ordered onejai for emir juan (expensive!!! 79k no promo lolll but free delivery. i was baited by gojek’s 1k 2 week subscription and felt like hmmm i should get something since we live in the middle of nowhere and free deliveries felt significant at that particular time when im holding my phone lmao). fell asleep after drinking vsoy + matcha lol its soft caffeine no longer works i guess

27 - woke up late as usual, went to sbux at 1 pm. tried white peach matcha frapp. the peach overpowers and u can barely taste the matcha. tried to read something useful (in medicine) but skimmed 2 ppt and then i saw solid’s bitly for isip. finished reading banana fish. couldnt bawl my eyes out because im outside.

28 - checked out rsf. Still no new ones. Immediately went back. Lazed and wasted my time

29 - iluni webinar. Here comes the impending life crisis. Ate nasi uduk and mie goreng telor today. Tried vsoy golden grain with matcha. It has almond aftertaste. Line call with kris for almost 4 hrs until 11 past sumn pm.

30 - more iluni webinar. Dr Eric, SpPD, PhD was rly cool. Tried daily box (butter soy chicken). Quite tasty. Mkg w regen. Videocalled in the mall w silvi racil bcs its ale and nadaa's wedding today. Bought gooma 500ml matcha w gofood pickup discount. Ate sushi go (the shoyu has mirin btw). 50k+ you get 6 piece of sushi (2 salmon) and matcha cake and ocha. Quite a nice deal. Talked abt cryptocurrency lmao. Went back and forth w TJ. All hail tj

31 - planned to do at least some productive stuff at home. turns out nila is outside and had some time to spare. so we went out. i met her in citra 6. we went to pik’s white beach. its scorching hot since its 2 pm. spent like 15 mins there. we had wanted to stop by monsieur spoon but THERES A QUEUEEE even if its a hot afternoon. so we ate tom sushi at green sedayu. talked a bit afterwards in nila’s place and then i was picked up by emir. tried gooma’s matcha. its not sweet like sbux. approved by mom (who doesnt like sweets). but its more expensive than sbux’s 2L 100k promo lol. (45k after gopay pickup promo for 500 ml). reread bj alex lmaooooo found new tidbits

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