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havenoffandoms · 4 years ago

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hi it's me again!! can you do "“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.” with geralt and reader? tysm i love ur writing so much

I can’t express just how happy I am that you’re requesting all these prompts! <3 This is not me procrastinating, and writing out these requests instead of my WIPs, or you know, actual uni work. This fill is a bit longer, just because I got inspired! I started this prompt thinking it would turn out funny and light-hearted, but my brain took a different turn. The second prompt you requested will be nothing but softness.

Prompt: “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

Warnings: This is on the angsty side, considered yourselves warned.

Tumblr Request Masterlist “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people,” you declare, rather dramatically, while glaring at your cell companion. Jaskier offers a sheepish smile in return, then startles when he feels something quick and furry brush past his wrist.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Y/N. Besides, Geralt is probably already on his way to save us, you know just how much our dear witcher likes to play the part of the knight in shining armour.”

You pull your knees closer to your chest and shoo away the stray rats nibbling at the sole of your shoes. You want to believe Jaskier’s words, you really do, but you’ve been stuck in this cell for… how long has it been, anyway? It’s hard to tell without any windows, making it impossible to assess with certainty what time of day it is. It’s been too long regardless, especially when you and Jaskier didn’t do anything that would justify throwing you in a cell, your only crime being your association with Geralt of Rivia.

Your heart tightens at the thought. Whatever information these men wish to pull out of you, you decide that you’ll rather die than reveal anything about Geralt. And you know that Jaskier feels the same way about his long-time friend.

“I don’t know, Jaskier. What if… what if he doesn’t?”

“Now, now. None of that.” Jaskier moves until his arm is pressed against yours and he’s able to grab a hold of your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “If there’s anything I know for certain about my dear friend Geralt, it’s that he would never, ever, leave his friends stranded.”

“What if he doesn’t know that we’re in this cell?” you insist, your voice trembling with barely restrained panic, “what if he decides that we’re not worth the trouble? He needs to protect Ciri, so he might not come, and these men could ki-”

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Jaskier urges you to face him by tugging at your hand. You can’t hide the tears welling up in your eyes as you let fear take over. Jaskier offers a reassuring smile, despite the current circumstances, and you take comfort in the familiarity of his presence. “Breathe, alright? Panicking won’t help us. Have a little faith. Geralt cares about us. He cares about you. He’ll come, don’t worry.”

Jaskier rests his forehead against yours affectionately, and for the briefest of moments, you allow yourself to believe that Geralt will indeed come and save the day.

___________

You’re suddenly jostled awake when you hear commotion just outside your and Jaskier’s cell. The bard is still pressed against you, though this time he looks a lot less confident than he did earlier when he was comforting you. You hear a loud crash, the sound of steel clashing against steel, then a pained scream followed by muffled gurgling. Something big and heavy crashes against your cell door, causing it to rattle precariously in its hinges. You hide your face in Jaskier’s chest and feel pull you closer to him, trying to protect you from whatever is happening outside despite the fact that he’s clearly as terrified as you are. The commotion goes on for another short couple of minutes which feel like hours to you and Jaskier. Finally, you hear the familiar sound of a sword being sheathed before someone unlocks your cell door. You don’t dare look up from the relative safety of Jaskier’s embrace, pinching your eyes shut as you expect the worst.

“Geralt, my friend!” Jaskier lets out a startled laugh, ringing bright with mirth and evident relief at the sight of their saviour. He gently pulls you away from him, forcing you to look at him. “I told you, Y/N. I told you he’d come for us.”

“Y/N,” you hear the rough baritone of Geralt’s voice call out for you, though there is an urgency in his tone that you’re not used to from him. You eventually peel away from Jaskier and turn to face Geralt. He’s covered in blood - though most of it probably not his own, you remind yourself to keep yourself from spiralling. You barely bite back a startled yelp when you take in the sight of his face; his eyes are still mostly black, a side-effect from the witcher potions he likely consumed before stepping into the dungeon to your and Jaskier’s rescue, and the dark sinewy veins contrast against his far too pale skin.

“Geralt? You… you came,” you breathe out, your tone halfway between reverend and horrified, “I… I’m sorry you had to… I’m sorry…”

You don’t notice the tears trailing down your cheeks until you hear Geralt’s sharp intake of breath. In the blink of an eye, thanks to the superhuman speed the potions grant him, he’s kneeling by your side, cupping your face in his hands and thumbing away the fresh wave of relieved tears. A sob pushes past your lips when you finally collapse against Geralt, the firmness of his chest as familiar as the sound of his voice by now. Your witcher pulls you impossibly closer and wraps you up in a tight embrace, whispering sweet reassuring nothings into your ear.

“Don’t be sorry, dove. I’m here, you’re safe. Not goin’ anywhere, either. Shh, you’re alright…”

“I hate to ruin this heartfelt reunion,” Jaskier’s soft voice suddenly interrupts the moment, and you can sense the underlying urgency in his tone, “truly, this has the potential to become my next big hit, but we really should be getting out of here. It won’t be long before reinforcement comes our way…”

“Jaskier’s right,” Geralt rises to his feet and pulls you up despite your yelp of protest, “are either of you hurt?”

“No,” you manage to answer before wiping the last of your tears, willing yourself to keep it together a little while longer, “let’s go, the quicker we’re out of here the better.”

__________

You’re exhausted by the time you reach camp. Jaskier is happily chatting away about his newest ballad, like he and you did not just spend the gods know how long in a prison cell. You don’t understand how the bard does, how he manages to pretend like nothing happened when you’re still twitchy and trembling. Geralt ignores Jaskier’s ranting for the most part, too focused on making sure you’re fine. He helps you dismount Roach by offering his hand for support, though when you slide off the saddle, you all but slump limply into his arms.

“Talk to me, dove,” he whispers to you, low enough so as to not draw Jaskier’s attention, “are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes, Geralt.” You offer what you hope is a reassuring smile, but judging by the frown your efforts are met with, you’re unable to convince your love, “I’m just tired. And still a bit shaken.”

“I’ll get a fire going. Sit down, have a rest.”

“Oh, and by the way, Geralt,” Jaskier saunters over to where you and Geralt are standing, “you’ll have to tell me how you managed to bypass all these guards, and don’t be stingy on the details.”

“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt grouses, still not letting go of you, “if you want to show your gratitude, get a fire going.”

Jaskier shoots you a concerned look, but he thankfully doesn’t press you as he goes to do as Geralt requested. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sink deeper into Geralt’s embrace. You let his familiar scent wash over you in calming waves as he gently drags you down to his bedroll. You vaguely feel Geralt pull away from you and wrap a warm blanket around your shoulders, tucking you in snugly before pulling you to him once again. Your eyes flutter shut as you finally allow yourself to come down from your high.

“I was so worried about you,” you hear Geralt mumble against your hair, before pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head, “thought I’d gotten there too late to save you.”

“You didn’t. You saved us, and that’s what matters.” You crane your neck as much as you’re able to capture Geralt’s lips in a tender kiss. “I’m just glad you came when you did.”

“As am I, dove.”

This time, the smile you flash him reflects nothing but genuine love and gratitude. You fall asleep in his arms, confident that he’ll watch over you and keep you safe.

#geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #prompt fill #havenwrites

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 13 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n:guess who’s realised she never submitted this to AQ? it’s ya boi. if u haven’t been able to read this yet then here it is, and look out for the final chapter coming soon! thank u to everyone who’s ever sent this fic some love, it means the world to me!!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

6th December 2020

Vanessa’s in the wine aisle of Marks and Spencers when she sees her again.

Her hair’s been dyed- she already knew that, she’s seen pictures of it on her Insta feed- and the demure tones of the honey-brown balayage are a contrast to the blonde ombré she’d had when they’d been together, but it suits her. She’s in sweatpants and a cropped jumper, because of course she is, and Vanessa recognises the matching pink set emblazoned with the Playboy logo from Missguided adverts on bus shelters. She’s wearing some form of chunky white trainers and Vanessa isn’t proud of the fact that she feels a little flame of satisfaction light up in her gut when she sees that they’re splattered with mud, contrasting with her clean outfit and perfect makeup.

Vanessa turns back to the green bottles in front of her, staring at them for so long and with such intensity that she thinks she might rip the fabric of reality in two. She consciously blocks out her peripheral vision so that all she can see is the label of one bottle of white which she reads over and over again. A light, dry white with citrus notes and lively green fruit flavours. Grown in the spectacular setting of the sun ripened vineyards of central Spain. Goes with fish, chicken and salads.

She doesn’t, in any way, shape or form, know how to play this situation, because this is the first time she’s seen Kameron in person since they decided to call it quits. One one hand she could just keep staring at the wine bottle, attempt to blend into the shelves via osmosis and completely avoid her ex, but on the other hand…Vanessa doesn’t really know what the other hand is, because she doesn’t know what a conversation between the two of them would look like. There’s a part of her that wants to find out.

And suddenly, with a cry that Vanessa recognises as hers, the decision is made for her.

“Vanjie?”

Slowly, timidly, Vanessa turns around to meet her eyes. Soft, brown eyes that Vanessa had once looked into and seen her whole world and future.

God, it’s fucking crazy how she used to be so in love with her and now she feels completely apathetic.

“Kam! Hey,” Vanessa smiles tightly, waving awkwardly with the hand she’s not holding her shopping basket with. “How are you?”

“I’m fine! Well, actually, not amazing. I tried to make this really fancy, complex coq au vin for dinner last night but I don’t know what the hell I did wrong because it tasted like fucking ass. So I’m here getting ingredients again because Mama didn’t raise a quitter. It’ll probably still taste like garbage though, you know what I’m like,” Kameron reels off, which makes Vanessa smile in spite of herself. Kam was never the best at cooking and it was usually Vanessa who made the dinners when they were together, but there were still a couple of times when she’d tried at something and had failed spectacularly. Kameron seems to pick up on what she’d said as a little look of discomfort flashes in her eyes before she follows her sentence up with, “How’re you? God, it’s been ages.”

“It has,” Vanessa shrugged a little. So much has changed since they’ve last spoken that Vanessa isn’t really sure where to start. “I’m good. Things are pretty great, really. Obviously had a good run on the show for my first year competing, so hopefully I’ll get a partner next year too an’ win it next time.”

“I know, you did so well! I was really shocked you didn’t make the semis at least,” Kameron frowns, and the flattery does admittedly soften Vanessa up a little. Kameron’s face lights up as she adds, “God, your girl was so amazing though too! Brooke Lynn Hytes, right? She was super talented. Now I know how good a dancer she is I can’t help but feel like she’s sort of wasted as a presenter.”

“Yeah, she’s incredible,” Vanessa nods emphatically, unable to help the heat she feels spreading to her cheeks whenever she gets to talk about Brooke with somebody. Kameron’s expression changes a little as she clocks Vanessa’s blush, and a cheeky glint appears in her eye. Vanessa frowns. “Hey. Behave.”

“I didn’t say a word!” Kameron laughs, and as she trails off there’s a smile on her face that’s affectionate and helps Vanessa warm up to her ex even more. “Listen, what’re your plans? I’d honestly love to catch up. It’s been too long.”

Vanessa tilts her head in thought. The conversation isn’t going too badly, and her only plans are going round to Brooke’s later on to watch the semi-final results and have dinner (hence the reason she’s gone to M&S to get wine and not the Tesco Metro round the corner from her). So Vanessa surprises herself when she shrugs, giving Kameron a little nod. “Okay, yeah. Lemme get this wine and then we can get coffee.”

The way Kameron’s face lights up makes Vanessa think that her decision was the correct one.

They’re sat at a little table at the window of a nondescript coffee shop roughly ten minutes later, Kameron stirring the hell out of a vanilla latte that’s sat in front of her and creating a tiny whirlpool in the coffee that puts Vanessa in mind of a Pirates of the Carribean movie. Kameron’s talking about the flat she’s in just now- she bought it after she rented for a while when she moved out of Vanessa’s place- and how furniture is so expensive.

“I mean I could just go to IKEA and just furnish the entire thing for, like, two grand, but I actually want some really nice stuff, you know? Like it’s a big girl professional flat, not a uni rental,” she screws her face up as she finally takes a sip. Vanessa bristles a little opposite her- she knows Kam doesn’t mean it, but Vanessa wants to remind her that most of her furniture is from IKEA, because they’d gone and bought it all together when they first moved in. Kameron doesn’t seem affected, though, and keeps talking. “What about you? You still living out at Finsbury Park?”

Vanessa nods. “I’m still in the same flat, I never moved.”

A look of shock passes over Kameron’s face and Vanessa can read her like a book- the fact she’s still in that flat where they made so many memories together is obviously surprising. Vanessa can’t help but laugh. “Kameron, chill. You don’t roam the fuckin’ halls like a ghost, I don’t burst into tears whenever I go into a room. It’s a decent flat at a decent price, I wanted to keep it.”

“Right. Sorry. Ego check,” Kameron smiles sheepishly, and Vanessa feels bad for poking fun at her. Kameron perks up after a second, laughs a little. “I like how you said ‘halls’ plural. Like it’s a stately home and not a fucking matchbox with an intercom system.”

Vanessa’s taking a sip of her own hot chocolate and she almost chokes on it in a laugh, Kameron howling and slapping the table in response. Vanessa’s forgotten that Kam used to make her laugh, still can. She always used to see it like some sort of secret privilege she had access to, the quiet girl’s funny side rare and only popping out on special occasions. That hasn’t changed over the years.

“How’s work, anyway?” Vanessa asks her as she composes herself. Kameron shrugs easily.

“Pretty good. I did a Dua Lipa music video the other week, that should be coming out in a month or so.”

“Is she actually as bad a dancer as that video made her out to be?”

Kameron smirks. “She had a shit choreographer; she’s actually alright. Not pop girl standard, but you know. My agent’s trying to get me on the Blackpink tour next, so I should hear back from that soon.”

Vanessa’s glad that work hasn’t dried up for Kameron- the backing dancer industry is treating her well.

“Anyway,” Kameron bats her lashes, looking at Vanessa coyly from behind her glass. “Tell me more about this dance partner of yours, miss.”

Vanessa feels herself blush, a bashful laugh escaping her lips before she can stop it. It’s weird- after they first broke up Vanessa always used to think she’d love the chance to rub her ex’s face in a new relationship, but it feels ever so slightly odd now she’s actually about to talk about Brooke in front of her. “Honestly, we’re just seeing each other and keeping things casual. Y’know, while the series is still goin’. We’re not even official or public.”

“Yet,” Kameron smiles cheekily at her, and Vanessa can’t suppress the smile she returns to her.

“Okay, yet. But it’s going really well. I really like her. She’s sweet, an’ she’s caring, an’ she’s the best listener.”

“And she won’t be a fucking idiot and cheat on you.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” Vanessa shrugs, the fact that Kameron’s brought the situation up casting a small grey cloud over the conversation. It’s clunky and awkward, a puzzle piece jammed in a place it shouldn’t be. It’s been brought up now though, so Vanessa grimaces and adds, “But then I never thought you would, either.”

Kameron’s face screws up in regret, and before Vanessa knows it she’s rested a hand on top of hers and is giving her a tentative smile. “I know I said it about twenty million times when we were together but I’m honestly so sorry, Vanessa. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Kam, you gotta stop beatin’ yourself up about it,” Vanessa cuts in and says swiftly. Her own words shock her; they’ve come from virtually nowhere, and she’s amazed at the raw sympathy she’s just shown her. “You were drunk, it was a kiss. Strictly is…it’s a weird show. You saw him more hours in the day than you saw me. Kisses between partners happen all the time, it just…sucks that it happened between you two.”

Kameron nods quietly, and Vanessa puts her other hand on top of hers. “I forgive you. Give yourself a break.”

Kameron squeezes her hand, shoots her a soft smile. “Thanks, Vanjie.”

They let go of each other’s hands and each take a sip of their own drink, the silence between them somewhat symbolic like someone wiping words off a whiteboard. Vanessa watches as Kameron swallows a gulp of her coffee and grins. “Hey, do me a solid and put in a good word with Asia O’Hara for me, okay? I really want to slide into her DMs but I need some context first.”

“Your face can be the context, fuckin’ look in a mirror,” Vanessa snorts, and the two of them laugh together.

It’s nice. This huge, big, massive event she’s built up in her head for all these months is happening- she’s bumped into Kameron and she’s speaking to her. She doesn’t need to build it up anymore, or wonder about how it would play out because she’s living it, it’s playing out and she never has to see Kameron for the first time since they broke up ever again. A wall crumbles down in her mind without warning and once the dust settles she realises that she feels somewhat lighter.

Vanessa has been carrying this burden around with her for all this time without even having known it.

The pair of them eventually finish up- hug goodbye outside the coffee shop and tell each other how nice this all had been and then go their separate ways. They don’t promise to keep in touch, but Vanessa knows they’ll probably like each others’ Instagram posts or occasionally tweet each other support or that kind of thing now. Little things that remind them they’re still on good terms.

As Vanessa heads to the tube, her mind drifts to Brooke and how excited she is to see her. The week has been long and Brooke’s been busy, but true to her word she’s messaged Vanessa whenever she’s had a spare moment, updating her on her day and asking her about her own. On Tuesday she’d invited Vanessa round to her flat on Sunday night as she has a day off on Monday and they can spend the night together. She’s not just abandoned her or left her hanging, and if there’s about to be a gap between her messages she always pre-warns her. Brooke’s treating her well. Almost like a girlfriend. Exactly like a girlfriend.

Vanessa still doesn’t know what they really are. She’s so far told herself that that’s alright, but now they’re out of the competition that answer isn’t really satisfying her any more. She wants to call Brooke hers, she wants to be with her properly. As Brooke’s apartment building comes into view, Vanessa wonders if she’ll bring it up tonight.

As she buzzes Brooke’s intercom, though, Brooke’s tone throws everything into a tailspin.

“Hello?”

Vanessa frowns. Brooke sounds ever-so-slightly icy and fed up. She wonders if she’s imagined it. “Uh, hey! It’s Vanessa.”

“Hey. Come up.”

As the door buzzes open and Vanessa steps into the building, she waves away the thoughts in her head. She’s probably overthinking things, and as she steps into the elevator and lets herself be carried up to Brooke’s 12th floor apartment Vanessa tries to calm her nerves. It’s the first time she’s been to Brooke’s flat- in fact it’s the first time either of them have been at either of their flats- so she’s a little anxious. It’s another layer of the relationship they’re adding on, and the thought of things getting a little more serious makes Vanessa’s heart flutter.

So her head is thrown into a tailspin when the elevator doors open onto a landing and she’s met with three doors- two closed, and the other (Brooke’s, a little gold 111 set into the smooth grey exterior) is ever so slightly ajar. Vanessa narrows her eyes, tentatively stepping out of the lift, crossing the hall, and pushing the door open a little.

“Brooke Lynn?”

Brooke’s voice replies, still something to it that Vanessa can’t quite work out. “I’m in here.”

Frowning, Vanessa steps through the doorway and into Brooke’s flat. The whole situation is so strange that she can barely take in everything she sees; a long, narrow hallway lined with high heels that leads down to what looks like a sunken living room with a cream sofa and a floor-to-ceiling view of London. There’s a room to the right halfway down the hall, though, and it seems to be where Brooke’s voice came from, so Vanessa closes the front door and hears the click of the lock behind her as she follows it. Maybe she’s in the middle of something. Maybe she’s just busy and she wants Vanessa’s company while she finishes whatever it is she’s doing.

And then, as Vanessa turns into the room, the situation becomes immediately apparent.

Brooke’s bedroom is dark- the blinds are drawn and the only light comes from a few candles that are sitting on the tidy grey dressing-table under the window and the soft pink salt lamp that sits on the bedside table. The large bed pushed up against the wall takes up most of the room, and its sheets are white and perfectly ironed and crease-free.

They serve as a perfect backdrop to the sight that’s currently greeting Vanessa- Brooke, in a matching set of black Calvin Klein underwear, curled up against the pillows and scrolling her phone. The dark material makes Brooke’s pale skin pop, and the sight of her toned thighs and stomach forces Vanessa to squeeze her thighs together in spite of herself. Brooke looks up as she enters the room and smiles smugly, clearly happy to get the reaction Vanessa’s given her.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, her voice light and sing-song and making the entire situation worse because the fact she’s so perfectly put-together while Vanessa is slowly becoming a melting, gooey mess in front of her is, for some reason, only making her want to rip Brooke’s clothes off even more than she already does. “Come sit.”

She gently pats the space on the bed next to her and Vanessa almost knocks herself out kicking her trainers off and letting her jacket fall to the floor as she scrambles up onto the bed. She feels herself blush as Brooke gives a soft laugh (presumably in response to just how eager she is) then decides she doesn’t really care how she’s coming across as Brooke leans in and closes the gap between them, kisses her with soft Chapstick lips that Vanessa feels as if she’s addicted to. Vanessa expects the kiss to be more than it is- flames of seductive fire that make one thing lead to another all too quickly- but instead it feels as if Brooke is deliberately holding back, teasing her a little. It’s not helping Vanessa’s desperation at all, and just as she brings a hand up to rest on Brooke’s hip, Brooke breaks the kiss.

“So,” Brooke begins cryptically, as she reaches for her phone where she’d discarded it against the sheets. “I was just scrolling Instagram, you know, as you do. And, uh, I felt a little bit confused.”

Vanessa frowns in tandem with Brooke, who finally appears to reach the post she’s been looking for. Brooke’s voice keeps its light tone as she continues. “Because apparently, according to these photos…it looks like you had a cute little reunion date with your ex today?”

Vanessa’s heart drops as Brooke turns her phone to show her the long-lens photograph posted by The Sun’s Instagram account. It’s her and Kameron at the coffee shop window, taken at the exact moment that Kameron had reached out and taken her hand and Vanessa had shot her a forgiving smile and taken hers in return, probably the most affection they’ve shown each other in a whole year.

But Jesus Christ, has it been taken out of context and then some.

She’s panicking, and she can feel her mouth opening and closing rapidly as she attempts to explain herself. The one saving grace about the whole situation is that Brooke appears to be…calm? Relaxed? She’s not flown off the handle, anyway, which Vanessa wouldn’t exactly have expected, and there’s also the fact she’s in a matching underwear set so clearly can’t be that mad at her. So Vanessa finally finds her voice, tells Brooke everything- how she’d only bumped into Kameron in the shop, and how it was just a coffee and nothing more, and how she’d actually finally received closure for everything that had happened between the two of them.

As she speaks, part of Vanessa wants to bring up the fact that she and Brooke aren’t even together together, so why Brooke’s so pressed about all of this Vanessa doesn’t know.

Unless Brooke wants them to be more than what they already are. And Vanessa has fucked it.

Shit.

“It’s just all a massive misunderstandin’, honestly,” Vanessa finishes, and she’s relaxing a little more now that Brooke’s body language is warmer. “I maybe should’ve texted you but I was gonna tell you tonight anyway, I promise. I wouldn’t…I just wouldn’t mess you about like that, Brooke.”

Brooke slowly lets a bashful smile creep across her face as she nods softly. “Okay.”

And, just because she can, Vanessa pulls her in for another kiss. This time there’s a little more heat to it which makes Vanessa’s stomach flutter in anticipation, but she still feels as if Brooke’s holding back. It’s only then that Vanessa remembers how Brooke had told her she liked being in control, how much Brooke got off on hearing her beg for what she wanted the first time they’d slept together, and it all falls into place.

Oh.

Before Vanessa can say anything, Brooke’s trailing her hand from its position cupping Vanessa’s jaw down her body to rest on her waist, and Vanessa’s mouth goes ever-so-slightly dry. Brooke’s face is still close as she speaks again. “See I thought that would be the case, because I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

Vanessa responds by mirroring Brooke’s touches, resting her own hand against her exposed thigh and delighting as she watches something darken behind Brooke’s eyes. Her tone changes a little as she continues. “But it did get me thinking…what if you did forget how good you had it one day?”

“Won’t happen,” Vanessa shakes her head, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as Brooke pushes up the hem of her oversized white t-shirt, rests the palm of her hand against the bare skin at her waist. Vanessa squeezes her legs together again and she watches as Brooke flicks her gaze down, suppresses a smirk badly.

“It won’t?” Brooke pouts mockingly, and Vanessa loves it. “Well, just in case…I thought I’d show you what you’d miss if you ever did think you could do better than me.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa verbalises what she’s thinking in a hiss, as Brooke tugs at the bottom of her top and removes it quickly without Vanessa having to do anything other than raise her hands above her head.

Brooke dips her down so that her head’s resting against the pillows and presses kisses to Vanessa’s jaw, neck, collarbone, right down to the lace of her bra. Vanessa’s pulse is racing and she finds herself already spreading her legs, unable to help the way she needs Brooke to touch her.

“God, you’re so needy,” Brooke tuts disapprovingly into her skin, briefly reaching her hands under Vanessa’s back in an attempt to unhook her bra. Vanessa’s stomach tenses as she lifts herself off the mattress to help her, and soon the bra that she spent entirely too long picking out this morning is thrown halfway across the room onto the dark wood of Brooke’s bedroom floor.

“Says the girl that’s trying to get my boobs out in the first two minutes of foreplay- ah!” Vanessa cuts herself off as Brooke sucks a hickey into her collarbone. If she wanted to get Vanessa to shut up she’s succeeded, and so Vanessa instead focuses her attention on trailing her nails up and down Brooke’s back, delighting in the way the other girl shivers gently at the contact.

Brooke brings her lips up to meet Vanessa’s and she licks gently into her mouth as she strokes her thumb over one of her nipples, the contact making Vanessa flinch against the bed in the best kind of way. Vanessa trails a hand up Brooke’s back and pushes her fingers into her hair, and when Brooke breaks away her stomach flips at the way it’s all messed up and imperfect. Paired with Brooke’s blown pupils and plush lips, it’s a sight that makes Vanessa buck gently into the air almost without realising.

“Jesus. It really doesn’t take much, does it?” Brooke laughs gently as she loops a finger under the waistband of her leggings, and Vanessa shakes her head and pouts self-indulgently.

“Brooke…” she begins, then trails off when she doesn’t actually realise what she wants to say. She’s very happy to let her be in charge if this is what happens as a result, and when Brooke moves to straddle her it renders her twice as speechless as she was before.

“If this is you now, I’m almost scared for how you’re going to react when you see what I’m planning on doing to you,” Brooke says softly, the fake concern to her voice sending shockwaves rippling through Vanessa’s body. Before she can respond Vanessa gasps as Brooke pulls off her leggings, leaving her in the red thong she’d agonised over and the white ankle socks she’d put entirely less thought into. Brooke is left kneeling between Vanessa’s spread legs; dark heavy-lidded eyes, mouth hanging ever-so-slightly open. When she speaks, her voice is ragged.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she says, and maybe it’s the simplicity of it but Brooke’s words make Vanessa feel completely naked despite what she’s still wearing.

“You’re beautiful,” Vanessa breathes out in an instant reply.

Brooke pouts and trails one of her short acrylics up Vanessa’s inner thigh, ripping a whine from her. “You sure Kameron isn’t more beautiful?”

“Jesus,” Vanessa throws her head back against the pillow and lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t have you down as the jealous type at all.”

When she tilts her head up Brooke’s got an unimpressed eyebrow raised at her. “You’re already in trouble, this isn’t helping your case.”

Vanessa can’t resist the urge to tease her and so she sticks her tongue out in response. “Oh what, you gonna punish me? You gonna tie me to the bed an’ spank me?”

Brooke’s gaze darkens. There’s a pause as she crawls up the bed, hovers over Vanessa with her face close. Vanessa keeps her own eyes sparkling as she stays still, challenging her to see if she’ll crack even though she wants to grab her jaw and kiss her with the same intensity they’d shown each other earlier.

“Brooke Lynn’s jeal-ous,” she sing-songs right in her face, and when Brooke pulls back she’s wearing a dark expression. Vanessa brings her hands up to rest on Brooke’s waist, traces the outline of her waistband.

And when Brooke leans over to the top drawer of her bedside table, Vanessa’s eyes widen as she instantly realises what she means.

She produces a wireless pink wand vibrator, and Vanessa’s body hotwires.

“Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke murmurs, lips quirking in a smile. “You’re going to get punished for the stunt you decided to pull today.”

“Oh no, I hate orgasms! What a terrible punishment,” Vanessa smiles back at her, sarcastic and indulgent.

“Who says you’re going to be allowed to have any?” Brooke frowns.

Vanessa instantly realises her mistake.

“Wait…but-”

“Yeah. I’d suggest you better start being extra nice to me,” Brooke interrupts her, resting the wand down on the bed beside one of Vanessa’s thighs and hooking her fingers around the waistband of her underwear to tug it off. While this is happening Vanessa shuffles against the sheets in anticipation, something curling tightly in the pit of her stomach and the throbbing between her legs becoming impossible to ignore. She wants so badly to be touched, wants Brooke to feel how wet she is and for her eyes to go all wide when she realises she’s the one that’s got her this worked up, but instead of her fingers or her tongue she’s using that stupid fucking vibrator and she’s not even going to be allowed to come.

Fuck.

“Please, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa pouts, letting a hand trail up Brooke’s thigh from where she’s positioned herself between her legs.

Brooke gives a short laugh. “You think you’re begging me now, wait until I get started.”

“Promise I’ll be good for you,” Vanessa insists, the end of her sentence almost getting cut off with a gasp as Brooke presses the wand against her. It’s not even switched on yet but it’s something that Vanessa can grind against, and she bucks her hips gently against the head.

“If you want me to turn it on you better keep those hips still,” Brooke says quickly, and Vanessa groans in resignation, lies still like she’s been asked.

She’s rewarded with a soft hum and a gentle buzz against her slit, and she can’t help the moan of satisfaction she gives in response as Brooke holds the wand there for a few moments, letting Vanessa get used to it. After so much build-up it feels like heaven, and the feeling leaves Vanessa wondering how long she’s going to last.

Brooke starts to swipe the wand up and down against her; lazy, slow motions that leave Vanessa squirming against the mattress every time she feels the vibrations brush against her clit. It’s not helping that Vanessa can see Brooke’s own chest rising and falling increasingly quickly, her pink, flushed cheeks, her hair all unkempt from Vanessa running her fingers through it.

“This good, babe?” Brooke asks, her tone ragged and her voice hoarse. When she snaps her gaze up to meet Vanessa’s eyes her pupils are blown and black and it sends an arrow through Vanessa’s heart that instantly shatters it as if it’s a piñata full of confetti.

“Mm,” is all Vanessa can manage, along with a rapid nod against the pillow.

“Not quite hearing a yes or a no there,” Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should just turn it off-”

“No, no, no, no! It’s good, it’s good, fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” Vanessa instantly reels off as if it’s a frantic prayer. Brooke’s probably the closest thing to religion she’s experienced in months.

“You sure? You sure Kameron wouldn’t do it better?” Brooke says teasingly, wiggling the vibrator against her clit as if to make a point and sending Vanessa into the stratosphere.

“No, I promise, I promise, babe, please, please, please,” she whines. She can hear herself pleading and she hopes it’ll help Brooke come round to the idea of letting her orgasm because if Brooke ups the setting on her wand then there’s no way she’s going to be able to exercise any form of restraint.

Brooke switches back to slowly sliding the vibrator against her, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s grip on her thigh tighten.

“Fuck, I can see how wet you are from here.”

Vanessa feels herself throb, her body responding to Brooke’s words before she can. She fists both her her hands into the sheets, can’t see her knuckles but knows they’ve gone white. “You wanna taste me so bad.”

“So much,” Brooke pouts, nodding slowly. “But…you need to lie there and take your punishment.”

“Fuck. I miss when you were too shy to talk during sex,” Vanessa huffs, grumpy, and she’s immediately stopped from saying any more as the wand buzzes that little bit more intensely against her. Brooke brings it back up to her clit, rubs it in slow, small circles that drive Vanessa wild and render her almost incapable of thought.

“Sounds like you’re the one who can’t talk during sex,” Brooke deadpans, squeezing Vanessa’s thigh to punctuate her point.

She can feel how slick the wand is against her, only illustrating how wet she is. The hum of the vibrator and the gasps Vanessa can hear herself making are heightening her senses; it’s too much and not enough all at once. Both Brooke’s teasing and the sensation of the wand vibrating against her is making Vanessa’s inevitable orgasm build inside her, and it’s only a matter of time before she hits boiling point.

“Brooke- ah!- please…don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last…”

“Oh, no way,” Brooke says darkly, and in an instant the vibrator is off and Vanessa’s back is arching off the bed in frustration as she cries out in disappointment. “You don’t get to come yet, babe, not after the sass you just gave me.”

Vanessa instantly regrets opening her stupid mouth and teasing Brooke more than anything she’s ever regretted before in her life. She whines, reaches her hips up into the air as if she’s going to generate friction from nowhere, and Brooke’s pouting in mock-sympathy. Vanessa knows she could just spring up from her position against the bed, grab Brooke’s face and kiss her and pin her down and take the control back, but there’s part of her that knows how unbelievably satisfying it’s going to be when she does get to come if she’s this worked up already.

Brooke’s watching her with heavy-lidded eyes as she traces up her leg then fans her fingers out over her inner thigh and rubs her thumb against her clit. The contact makes Vanessa’s eyes almost roll into the back of her head; the wand has heightened her sensitivity and she’s by now so slick and wet from all of Brooke’s teasing that with every little rub of her thumb Vanessa can feel the fire between her thighs become completely out of control.

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this to you every fucking day since Blackpool,” Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa bucks against her thumb helplessly. “We’d be having to rehearse but all I wanted to do was just to make you beg for it again and again, fuck.”

“Should’ve told me.”

“Mm. I almost texted you about it. One of the nights I was lying in bed fucking myself with my fingers and remembering how good yours felt…remembering how you felt like fucking heaven underneath me…I could’ve sent you so many pictures that night…”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ you need to stop talking or I’m gonna come,” Vanessa squeezes her eyes shut. Brooke’s still teasing her clit and Vanessa knows she’s deliberately applying just not quite enough pressure. She’s so on edge and it feels like the most incredible form of torture.

“You want the wand back, sweetie?”

“Please, fuck, yes,” Vanessa begs, almost wanting to sob. When Brooke’s thumb gets replaced by the vibrating head of the wand she feels lightheaded, lets out a cry that she instantly knows Brooke’s neighbours will hear but she doesn’t care. Brooke’s teasing her badly, holding the wand against her, taking it away for a second, then replacing it, and Vanessa feels so sorry for herself that she starts pleading with her.

“Keep it on me, please,” she gasps out, and when she looks up at Brooke she’s smiling at her wickedly.

“Like this?”

Brooke ups the intensity the moment she makes contact and Vanessa can practically feel herself give a little gush against the wand. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps now, and she’s only just registering the fact that Brooke’s got her hand that isn’t holding the wand down under the waistband of her own underwear, playing with herself. There’s a light sheen of sweat against her chest that’s making her glow like an angel and the way her chest is rising and falling is mirroring Vanessa’s.

Vanessa now realises why people yell out declarations of love right in the middle of their orgasm.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you like it?” Brooke murmurs. Vanessa can see her bucking against her fingers and the sight makes her press herself down against the wand, the way the vibrations roll over her clit in waves making her want to scream.

“So much…so fucking much…”

“Anyone else gonna fuck you like me?”

“No, baby, no-one else, just you, fuck, only you,” Vanessa whimpers. She looks up at Brooke and the sight of her eyes closed in ecstasy, grinding against her fingers and her nipples hard through the fabric of her bra is enough to tip Vanessa on a very gradual decline over the edge. “Fuck, can I come, please?”

“Yes, babe, you can come.”

When Vanessa feels her clit sieze up then pulse frantically against the vibrations of the wand, she shouts out into the bedroom, the pace of her fuck, fuck, fuck in sync with the waves of her orgasm flooding through her body. Brooke holds the wand against her until she’s sure she’s finished and Vanessa can only lie against the mattress, completely worn out and exhausted, as she watches Brooke take the wand and hold it between her own legs, the thin material of her underwear dark between her legs as Vanessa realises just how wet Brooke must be as well.

And even though Vanessa’s too worn out to help her out in the way she wants to, it doesn’t stop her from sliding a lazy hand up her thigh. She takes a couple of shallow breaths before pouting up at Brooke.

“Aww. Did watching me get you too worked up, baby?”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke hums in reply, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she squeezes her eyes shut. It gives her an idea.

“Not used my mouth on you yet. Bet you wish I was doin’ it now.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, keep talking.”

“You don’t get to boss me around any more, princess. Keep talking what?”

Brooke’s face contorts into a frown as she ruts against the wand, eyes still closed. “Keep talking please.”

“Good girl,” Vanessa purrs, and she almost feels as if she could go for round two as she hears the way Brooke gasps in delight at the praise. “You want me to tell you how much I want to put my tongue between your legs and taste you and watch you come apart under me?”

“Ah…”

“Maybe you don’t want that, though. Maybe you want to sit on my face instead. Ride my tongue and shut me up so I can’t talk back to you and drip all over my face all dirty while I just lie there and take it like a good girl.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brooke hisses out. Vanessa’s surprising herself with what’s coming out of her mouth and how absolutely filthy it all is but she’s going with it because she knows Brooke’s close.

“Tell me how much you want it.”

“Fuck, want it so much.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Vanessa…fuck, please…”

Vanessa regains enough strength to sit up and cup Brooke’s face with her hands, meeting her lips with her own and teasing her with a slow, deep kiss. Vanessa flicks her tongue inside her mouth and when she rubs it over Brooke’s she cries out against her lips, her moans almost-but-not-quite swallowed by Vanessa’s kiss as she comes.

Brooke breaks away as she falls against the mattress and Vanessa follows her, lying down beside her and gently switching the wand off. They lay there in silence, Brooke’s gasps and the buzzing in Vanessa’s ears the only things she can still focus on until Brooke reaches out a hand to curl around one of Vanessa’s. Vanessa throws a leg over Brooke, pulls her closer so that Vanessa can rest her head against her chest and feel her frantic heartbeat.

“Fuck me,” Brooke whispers breathlessly, and Vanessa lets out a chuckle.

“What, again? Thought you’d at least want a break first.”

“Shut up,” Brooke giggles. There’s a pause as she presses her lips to Vanessa’s head, mouths something Vanessa can’t hear or see. Then she mutters again, a little louder. “You’re so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Vanessa replies childishly, though the way Brooke’s chest judders against her in a laugh Vanessa assumes she doesn’t mind. She flinches a little as Brooke’s stomach gives a loud rumble. “Oh yeah. Forgot you were meant to be making dinner.”

“Hey, I have made dinner thank you very much! It’s in the slow cooker. Cuban beef and rice if that’s okay?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the little nervous tone in her voice. It’s adorable.

“Sure it is.”

Brooke lends Vanessa some pyjamas to shove on in lieu of the outfit she’d arrived in, and Vanessa’s heart swells a little at the implication that she’s going to be staying over. She’s not sure if she’ll try and breach the subject of what they are tonight- the evening is already so perfect and Vanessa doesn’t want to ruin anything, especially not when they’re curled up on the sofa with bowls of warm food in their laps and laughing guiltily at the way Jan is sobbing because she and Jackie have become the latest ones to leave the competition after a tense dance-off with Crystal and Gigi.

“It’ll be a close final, though. Like that’s everyone been in the bottom now,” Vanessa contemplates, tilting her head in thought from her position at the other side of the sofa. Brooke nods, then snorts again.

“God. I feel for Jan, but she just has such a memeable crying face. Like Kim K,” Brooke snorts again, as some ridiculous BBC One gameshow that seems to be based around celebrities strapped into a wheel starts in the background.

“Jan’ll be fine. She’ll recover, she’s a big girl. She’s got Jackie anyway,” Vanessa shrugs. Brooke hums in response, and then there’s a palpable silence that fills the room, almost like Brooke is about to say something. Vanessa waits.

“So today got me thinking,” Brooke finally says, reaching out and curling her fingers around Vanessa’s. Her eyes are in her lap and she’s not meeting her gaze. Vanessa is, in every sense, on the edge of her seat.

“Uh-huh?”

“When I saw those pictures of you and Kameron,” Brooke continues, the reminder making Vanessa’s heart drop. “I got so envious…and then I thought, well…what’s the only way I can make sure Vanessa’s just mine?”

Brooke finally looks at her, and every fibre of Vanessa’s being lifts in hope. “So, uh, I was wondering…if you would want to be my girlfriend.”

And when Vanessa blinks, she can see fireworks explode behind her eyes. She’s unable to help the huge, dumb smile that breaks out on her face as she blushes shyly, gives a nod.

“‘Course I would, baby.”

The smile that bursts onto Brooke’s face mirrors her own, and Vanessa can’t help but lean in and pepper Brooke’s face with kisses, wrap her arms around her in a cuddle.

“Officially yours, now,” Vanessa smiles excitedly, as she rests her head against Brooke’s chest. She can’t see Brooke’s face, but she knows she’s smiling too.

And suddenly, a little sentence appears in Vanessa’s head, three very small and simple words that she’s not thought about in a long time but just make sense in that moment. She looks up at Brooke, meets her gaze and feels her heart thump.

Maybe she can save that for another day.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #branjie #past kamjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #kameron michaels #smut

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Three, “If It Kills Me”

A story about what happens when she can’t be just his assistant anymore, and he can no longer be only her boss. Now, can they be happy with being just friends?

Read this story from the beginning here! :-)

Inspo tag here!

*NEW* Spotify playlist in the works can be found here, songs that inspire me for the story and have significance in the story c:

Warnings: one brief mention of vomiting, and some mild language.

SNEAKY PEEEEEEEEEEEK

“And Becky’s face consumes my thoughts, much like it’s been captivating my conscience as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

There it remains for days, much like it has been. It follows me through the air as I stare out the window, floating above the clouds. It crops into my conversations, leeching any enjoyment gathered from them. I even see it in a crowd of people inside the walls of the courtroom before I deliver my closing statement. When I look a second time, I’m disappointed to find the eyes of a stranger.

I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. I miss all of it.”

Song Inspiration: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz (click to listen)

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh electricity, you know?” - Steve Harrington, Stranger Things

The warm rays hit my cheeks as my sandals pound on the pavement. I wonder how I could ever be unhappy given the May sun shining down on me, and walking from my favorite restaurant. Without fail, the blissful idea is stolen away by a swarm of thoughts dosed in reality. And a particular one that reminds me of what I need to do, despite the dread I’ve been feeling. Not even the former respite of Asher’s hug after our shared lunch can keep them away.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I swipe through my apps until I find the right one. Stopping in front of my gray car, I lean against the door with a huff. My thumbs hover across the screen nervously, followed by a curse under my breath. Quickly, they flit across the screen composing words in front of my eyes. Sliding into my driver seat, I stare at the screen for a moment longer before hitting send.

I wait for the chime to come, telling me I have a new message, from him. Nervousness coats my limbs and only grows worse as the minutes tick by driving home. Waiting. But when I check my phone after walking in the door, my lock screen showing my dad and I’s smiling faces is blank.

No new messages.

Sliding off my black sandals, I pad through the shared living room and kitchen area before reaching my bedroom. My laptop beckons for me across the room on my desk, and I sit down before it. I hope that maybe if I don’t procrastinate this specific thing, maybe things will turn out a little better. But as I’m opening a study guide for Family Law’s final exam, I’m proven wrong.

The chime grabs my attention immediately, making my fingers still on the keyboard. Flitting my eyes to the lavender Speck phone case, I grow antsy at wondering who the text is from. And what it says. Inhaling nervously, I pick it up and wake up the screen. The few words of a preview I see of the text cues a sour anxiousness to grow in my stomach. Bringing my knees up onto my chair, I pull them against my chest as I open the text.

Hey I’m so sorry I’ve been terrible at texting back, finals these next two weeks are getting to me. Speaking of that I realized that I have to take a final at the time we’re supposed to get lunch in a few days. I’m really sorry but can we reschedule . . . again? I was thinking in two weeks when I’m finally free from the clutches of uni????? :(

Harry

sorry cant love. im in edinburgh all that week for a case. lets talk about it when im back. good luck w finals xx

Sighing, I type up a short response, agreeing to that. With guilt casting a shadow over me, I return my attention to the lengthy study guide. The gross feeling in my stomach remains, and with its arrival, my excitement for our lunch date is replaced with disappointment. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks since we rescheduled it the first time, due to me messing up the dates, again. Peeking my eyes at my phone, I turn away and slump against my chair.

It’s been a month since I saw him last, and although we’ve sent a handful of texts, they haven’t been enough for me. Skye, of course, told me that there’s nothing stopping me from showing up at his office door, but she’s wrong. I don’t know his schedule anymore, and for all I know, I’d be waiting around for him. Plus, my appearance would just yell ‘desperate!’ Sometimes, I wonder what little world Skye is tucked away into that’s far simpler, not realizing I still have to work during the day, especially more so this summer.

But as the days drag on with chemo and radiation appointments, and lectures upon lectures, I think maybe Skye has the right idea being so optimistic. Maybe.

Over the next few weeks, I see him at almost every corner I turn, and it hurts more than it should after all these weeks. The ignored texts shouldn’t feel like a fresh stab wound when I see that Scrabble box in the family room, get on that very same lift, or walk past the nurse’s station I found him leaning against that morning. Nothing compares to the piano and the pang I feel in my chest at the sight of it. It comes every time I walk through those doors and am reminded of the intimacy held on those keys. No, it didn’t get easier after the first time being back there with my dad, or the fifth time. Avoiding that gray sofa like the plague only reminded me of the texts I sent him that went unanswered. I can’t blame him though, because like a bitch, I took a week sometimes to reply to him.

The tight feeling in my chest only feels heavier as I sit on the plaid couch in my childhood living room. I can’t even enjoy watching FRIENDS like I used to be able to, as their faces bring forth the sound of his laugh. It pains me to turn down their voices as I dig my phone out from under the cushions. I try not to let it get to me when I, once again, find no new text messages. My attempt is futile and it only causes me to take longer to open the phone app. By now, I know his number by heart, but my shaky hands cause me to mess up a few times.

Pressing the phone to my ear, all I can hear is its ringing and the pounding of my heart. As the seconds drag on, I’m almost certain I’ll hear the voicemail next. But then I’m pleasantly surprised, although the bitterness in my stomach blossoms.

“Hullo?” His gravelly voice pulls my lips into an instant smile. Rubbing the back of my neck anxiously, the words fall from my lips hurriedly.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” he responds curtly, a clattering noise heard in the background before he mutters a ‘shit.’

“I’m sorry, did I call at a bad time?” I ask quickly, regret filling my veins.

“No, yer fine. ‘m jus’ makin’ dinna.”

“Oh um, nice. What are you cooking?” I inquire, twirling the braided silver ring on my pointer finger. Swallowing, I wait to hear his molasses drawl again, like music to my ears.

“Jus’ a stir fry. So . . . why’d ya ring?” Harry responds, a coolness hugging his voice.

“Um, I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” he hums awkwardly, followed by the sound of a door closing. Squeezing my eyes shut, uneasiness falls over me in a wave. Oddly, I wonder if all of a sudden I can’t call to say hi. “Ya, we’ve both been busy. Cases fer me, an’ prolly uni an’ yer dad’s treatments fer you.”

“Yeah,” I agree aloud, my chin falling to rest in my palm. But it leaves a second later to lose my fingers in my hair. “I wanted to tell you that I finished my finals last week, so now I just have clinical left in the fall. Oh, and my dad got to ring the bell today. He’s all done with chemo and radiation after his scans all looked good. It’s hard to believe that he’s cancer-free. His doctors will, of course, have to keep an eye on him in the future to make sure it doesn’t come back, but I couldn’t be happier.”

“Tha’s wonderful, love,” Harry coos into my ear, the first notes of happiness heard in his voice. It begins to put me at ease, and cause me to think maybe something isn’t off after all. “‘m really glad t’ hear that- well both o’ those things.”

Unbeknownst to me, I find myself nodding along with his words as if I needed his confirmation. But his words stop there, and the sickening feeling that something is wrong settles back in. A small ‘yeah’ stumbles off my lips as my fingers form into a fist in my lap, debating what to say next. Or if I should ask what I’ve been wanting to say the entire time.

“We weren’t able to get ahold of each other a few weeks ago to reschedule lunch. Would you still like to?” Going out on a limb, I let the words fly.

I watch for them apprehensively, uncertain if they’ll take flight. The loud sound from his side, the subsequent shuffling, and a voice saying his name shoots them down hastily.

“‘m sorry, I gotta go. ‘ll text ya ‘bout gettin’ lunch,” Harry remarks, his words stringing together swiftly. I barely have the chance to say an ‘okay’ before he abruptly hangs up, sewing together an unwanted thought for me.

Tossing my phone to the other end of the couch, I fall back against the cushions. Turning up the volume of the telly, I avert my gaze back to the make-believe world I’ve always taken comfort in. As the phone call gnaws away at my insides, planting insecurities every few steps, I let the characters whisk me away. Even if their faces and familiar jokes will now never stop reminding me of him, and something I let go of that I didn’t know I had. I only feel worse when I realize that I knew then that he’d never send that text, and I think he knew that, too.

“Staring at it isn’t going to make it ring, y’know,” somebody states, pulling me from my webs of thoughts.

Lifting my attention away from the black screen in my hand, I catch Myles looking at me impatiently.

“Wha- ‘m sorry. I was listenin’.”

“Then what’d I just say?” he requests, the hand propped against his chin rising in a silent question.

My lips fall apart to welcome my voice, but nothing comes out. Shrugging, he receives his answer and replies with a disapproving glare.

“Hare, this is important stuff. We’re leaving for Edinburgh tomorrow for the case, it’s a huge one.”

“I know, My. Jus’ repeat what ya said, please,” I huff, batting a hand at him. His eyes roll into the back of his head when he leans back in his leather chair.

“I swear to God, Harry, I-.”

“Stop,” I retort, growing annoyed.

He plays with the point of his quiffed blonde hair before clearing his throat. Although I try to listen the second time around, my gaze is lulled back to my laptop screen. My fingers itch to touch the keys and type up words, and when Myles begrudgingly answers his ringing phone, I find my chance. Sliding my silent phone into my pocket, I click on the blue thought bubble, only to be met with disappointment. Brushing it away, my fingers fly across the keys and my words are sent with a soft hum. Soon, Myles hangs up the phone with a perturbed sigh and resumes the conversation we were having. Again, I try to return to the bubble we share and the words that occupy it, but my mind is consumed with the anticipation of that coveted ding. And with Becky’s face, much like it’s been captivating my thoughts as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

It crowds my mind when I wait for the boarding call, tapping my fingers along the screen and watching the words be sent off. I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. All of it. I miss all of it. It gnawed away at me slowly, and terribly, burying doubts beneath my defenses. They sprang up when I least expected them, and when I thought about sending just one more text. A few words wouldn’t hurt anything, I thought, but at the same time, I distrust the ultimate impact they could have.

The pounding jars me from my reverie, bringing me to my feet slowly. Padding past the television and kitchen area, a yawn jumps from my lips. Another pound lands on the door, dragging my brow into a knot.

“Oh, shuddup!” I exclaim in disbelief, wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal of the door. Yanking it open, I find the grinning bearded face of my mate standing on my stoop. “‘m not goin’, Rore, I already told ya this.”

“C’mon, Harry, I’ll look like a right idiot being there all alone,” Rory responds, his steps telling me he’s following me inside once I turn around. “Help a mate out here.”

“Ya, ‘coz ya were so helpful tha otha day when I asked ya t’ consult with me fer the Starkey case.” Scoffing, his words pause between his lips as I fill a glass of water from the attachment on the fridge. “Why’re ya goin’ anyways, since it sounds like sumthin’ yer dreadin’? And since when d’ya even go t’ these sorta things? Last place I thought ‘d see you at, Rore.”

“I don’t, but it’s for me sister’s showing. I can’t miss it, she’s me baby sister. I’d hear about it from me mum for weeks.”

Snorting, I have to pull the glass of water away from my lips.

“Hope ya bloody choke on that water, mate,” Rory scoffs, only making me laugh harder. Water flies from my lips as I’ve forgotten the glass on the marbled countertop. “Are ya coming or not, Harry? Ya know it’s a good place to pick up chicks, too. They blooming love these art gallery places.”

Recovering from my fit of giggles, I turn my head to find Rory waiting with the question in his eyes. He huffs and riffles a hand through his tousled blonde hair a few shades lighter than that which covers his face. Shaking his head, he wiggles his head at me.

“I’ll consult with you on the next case, or even give ya first pick,” he whines, folding his hands together under his chin, as if he’s praying.

“‘m yer bloody boss, I always get first picks,” I murmur, a smile cracking at the end of my words.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” he spits, pushing at a chair in front of the seated bar attached to the kitchen island. Clucking his tongue, he messes with the collar of his navy blue blazer thrown over a bloody Zeppelin shirt. Yeah, you sure look artsy there, Rore. But with the next words that fly from his sailor’s mouth, he pins me down. “What’re ya gonna do here anyways, sit and watch the bleeding telly all in your lonesome when ya could be with me getting damn a date?”

Biting my lip, my house slippers come into my view and when Rory’s eyes find them, a laugh explodes from his lips. “Go hurry up and bloody change before you’re too far gone, mate. I’ll be in the car,” he titters before his voice falls with a delighted sigh. Delight found in my pain.

“Two cases, Rore. Any two cases I want, ya consult with me on. Ya got it?” I argue, following on his footsteps.

“Whatever makes ya feel better, mate. I know you'll be thanking me later tonight.”

“Doubt it,” I mutter, watching him open the door, sure there’s a sly grin covering his face.

I turn to jog up the stairs until I arrive in my bedroom. Quickly, I toss on skinny jeans, a Keith Haring shirt, and a mustard button up smattered with faded white flowers. I look rather artsy, I reckon, I decide as I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. It’s an easy feat when you’re standing next to wannabe Rory over there, though. After taming my hair and finding a pair of shoes, I pad down the stairs.

“Alexa, turn off all o’ my lights,” I announce, slipping my wallet and phone into my pocket as my hous darkens around me.

“Take fucking long enough?” Rory groans when I slide into the passenger seat of his silver Sentra.

“Shuddup and drive, will you? So we can get this ova with.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass tonight, then just go back inside,” he almost laughs, beginning to back away from the towering walls of my house.

“Talking ‘bout yerself, are ya now?” I quip, bringing my phone from my tight pockets, tapping in my passcode.

“I’ve noticed, y’know,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear him. Looking up from the bright screen, his eyes don’t stray from the road. “There’s a girl, isn’t there? Or there was?” he continues, a man I’ve come to love over the last three years he’s worked with me. And somehow I thought I had fooled him, but it turns out, I haven’t. I can’t even fool myself.

“Sumthin’ like that,” I whisper, my attention straying back to the conversation lit on my screen. Another day of the ball being in her court, and she just leaves it in the bloody corner, neglecting it. “I see why ya wanted me t’ come now . . . jus’ don’ try t’ set me up with yer bloody sista. She’s like twenty.”

His hearty chuckle fills the space around us, the words of a song from Death Cab for Cutie lurking in the background. “I won’t, but y’know she’s not gonna let ya out of her sight, mate. She’s had the hots for you from day one.”

“Oh God, Rore, what’d I let ya drag me into here?” I joke, my lips curling into a nervous smile. But the smile feels good, and it feels even better when her name disappears from my screen, and I forget my phone in my pocket.

“What happened to making me dinner?” I whine from the couch, crossing my left leg over the other under the comfort of my blanket.

“That was when you were busy, and well, the other day when I was feeling generous. Not today, missy,” Skye scoffs, the sound of the fridge shutting marking her words. Something lands in my lap with a plop, startling me.

“Wow, how gourmet. Why thank you, I definitely don’t need to make dinner now,” I joke, picking up the wrapped piece of string cheese.

“I know you’re still going to eat it. Just eat cereal or something, you hobo. I’m going to bed at a decent time, unlike somebody.”

“Hey, it’s a Friday!” I argue, pressing the page down button on the remote, waiting for something to catch my eye on Netflix.

“Yeah, and some of us still have a job on Saturdays!” she calls from her journey down the hall.

“Party pooper!”

She remains silent on the defensive line, and so does the list of boring content on the television screen. Relenting, I click over to My Stuff and press play on the next episode of FRIENDS. Relaxing into the cushions, I unwrap the cheese and slowly eat it in strings. Giggles flow from my lips watching the scene unravel in front of me, and some eye-rolls because of Ross or Monica. After a while, my legs stray to the fridge, and I return to the tan sectional with a bowl of Cheerios. The milk threatens to spill over the side when I sit up suddenly, almost yelping in laughter at the scene when Monica and Rachel lose their apartment to Chandler and Joey. The sugary Cheerios soon disappear, and the milk follows them as the episode nears the end.

Placing my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, I hurry back to the sofa to catch a Phoebe scene. My cheeks warm with a smile, but they soon grow cold when my thoughts have to interrupt with a memory of his face. That god awfully sweet smile adorned with his cherry lips and precious dimples. Without knowing what I’m doing, the cartoon looking app appears under my nose, and pictures fill my feed. I take a second look at a few of them that catch my attention, the angry voices of Rachel and Monica tickling at my ears.

Soon, the search bar materializes and although it feels wrong, I type in letter after letter to create his name. I can’t remember the last time I glanced at his profile, just to catch a hint of him. Finding the profile I’ve become familiar with, I tap on his picture and wait for his profile to load. Glancing away, the tv captures my attention once more as I scratch at an itch on my leg. Yawning, I rub at my eye before it falls back to the blindingly bright screen. Blinking hard to clear the haze from my vision, I scroll down to see what new pictures he’s posted, although they’re usually few and far between.

I find the most recent picture I recognize and tap through them. Picturesque shots from high in the clouds. His unbelievably adorable niece. Food-grams. A picture of a homemade pizza is making my mouth water and is still stuck in my mind when I happen upon the next photo, and the most recent one. The moisture in my mouth is wicked away, suddenly bone dry when the image in front of my eyes slowly registers with me. But I can’t believe it, even though I’m seeing it. I don’t want to see it, or believe it. The moisture reappears in the corners of my eyes quickly as a sourness quickly knits together in my gut. The image shakes in my hands and then blurs in my eyes, accented by the thrashing of my heart inside of my chest.

“Skye!” I shout, the words leaping from my lips with little success.

My lip wobbles and I feel my entire face collapse from pain, disbelief, the whole shebang. The sob screaming from my lips is muffled by my fingers coming to my mouth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I mutter, inhaling fast and feeling the tears in my throat. Because I can feel it everywhere in my body - the pain. In my eyes, my stomach, my hands, and my chest. The sight of Harry’s lips touching that of another girl’s sends knives into my heart, and my stomach roiling. “T-this can’t . . . ,” but my words escape me, because the multitudes of feelings punished with anguish and despair course through me.

“Skye!” I yell again, not realizing that I’ve gotten to my feet. I stumble at first, feeling the weakness reach my legs. Her name leaves my lips wet with tears as I run past the kitchen and down the hall.

Pushing open her door, darkness meets my eyes, and I swear in that moment it swallowed me. Hitting me, I grab the doorframe and feel my forehead fall against it. Leaning there for support, the sobs roll through me, the very reason still clutched in my hand.

“Whaaaaat?” she groans tiredly from her bed across the room.

But I only reply with a sob of her name, hiccups havocking my chest. My hands claw at the wall, darkness coating my eyelids.

“Ree?” Skye asks groggily, the click of her lamp following her words. “What happened? Are you alright?” she hurries, the pillowy patting of her covers being thrown back meeting my ears.

Her arms wrapping around me are almost numbing, and do nothing. And feel like nothing. But when I feel my head meet her chest, the slowed-down world I lived in for those few seconds vanishes.

“Skye, I-. . . ,” I attempt, once again falling up short as tears suffocate my voice, much like they’re making me feel. Shakily, I press my phone into her hand as I try to find safety in her arms.

I wait and then am rewarded with her intake of breath followed by a sigh. “Holy fuck,” she whispers, and retaliates by pulling me closer against her. “Come here, Ree.”

She walks me over to her bed and helps me under the covers until I’m surrounded by them, and her arms.

“Who i-is she?” I demand sloppily, searching for something to hold onto and to anchor myself with. I’m compensated with the smooth fabric of her shirt that I cling to the back of, my head falling into her hair. The mundane scent of strawberries wafting from her body tries to relax me, but to no avail.

“Ree-,” she begins, but I don’t let her start, let alone finish.

“I want to kn- I need to know,” I respond, sniffling against the warm expanse of her neck. There’s shuffling next to me before she sighs, and I sense the light of my phone. Tapping prods at my hearing as I try to form coherent thoughts.

I’m met with images of him. Harry. His dark curls, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the high-pitched giggle that accompanied my tickling as well as his own. The intruding memories rack my body with shaking sobs, pressing my lips together as new tears gush over them. My belly contracts with each sob, and I don’t even register the cramping in my hands from holding on so tightly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Skye hums warily from above, pulling my head into her neck, leaving her arm there to shield me from her words. Or the image that I can’t remove from my mind even if I tried. It’s burned there indefinitely now.

His arms in a blue button-up surrounding her and his lips enveloping hers. A smile creasing his cheeks with happiness, and spreading to those of her dark cheeks. Her curvy body pressed against his, flowing ebony curls tickling her chocolate skin.

“Tell me.”

“Okay,” Skye caves, the tips of her fingers running marathons along my back, in attempts to calm me down. But I don’t know if the tried and true will work this time, although it has for every other, even when my dad’s life was painted with the C-Word. “She’s a London based artist, does some sculpting and gallery work locally. According to her Instagram account, anyways.”

“I asked . . who is she?” I repeat, my voice wavering under the dominance of the tears.

“Her name’s Bailee Taylor.”

“W-what does her page look . . . like?” I request, exhaustion blanketing me, and only adding another feeling to the rest. Blinking away the tears, I try to take in a deep breath, but my memories hit me with the safety I felt in his arms. Unwaveringly.

“It looks like they’re . . dating,” Skye announces quietly, squeezing me around the middle. The confirmation I didn’t know I’d been searching for hits me like a train, knocking the air out of me again. And all of a sudden, hatred pulses through me, asking me where to lay it. Where to feel it. “There’s a few pictures of them on her feed, looks like they met maybe a few weeks ago.”

“Why?” jumps from my lips finally, taking a nosedive to join a sea of unanswered questions. The word shakes the second it leapt from my tongue, and somehow it hurts more than all of the rest. “I h-hate him,” I cry, my nose smushing against her skin when I try to hold onto her tighter than I already am.

“No, you don’t,” she coos, raking her fingers through my hair slowly, and carefully.

“I know, b-but I wish I could,” I answer, the memories dancing through my head at hyper speed. Falling asleep in his arms, and waking up in them. The tickling fight. The almost kiss. The Scrabble game. Waking up to find him waiting there in the doorway. Him coming back even after the way I treated him. Finding him standing there at the front of the lecture hall. The reprieve of being in his arms again after so long spent away from them. And then, like a wall, my mind runs into the strings of unanswered texts. The canceled lunch dates. The both of us ignoring the other’s texts, but then at the end, it was him. It was him who was awkward during the last phone call. He hung up on me abruptly, and I heard somebody else was there. Was it her? It’s possible they would have already been together by then. He said he’d text me to set up lunch, and he never did.

“It won’t make you feel better,” she murmurs, cupping my head with her palm. The sound of tears edging at her words only makes mine come harder, and the feeling in my gut grows louder.

“Then what will?” I beg, wondering if I’ll ever forget the taste of the salty tears. A taste I thought I could forget just late last month when my dad was cured. News that I told him, and had been impatiently waiting to do all day. “I thought I was just feeling okay again, Skye.”

“I know, Ree, I’m so sorry,” she returns, placing her cheek against mine, the first tear peeking through in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

I unpeel myself from her anxiously, kicking away the blankets before my feet land on the floor.

“Where are you going?” she almost demands, the sound of her following me far away.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I confess, rushing down the hall before falling to my knees in front of the toilet. The Cheerios and milk from earlier make a reappearance, along with the string cheese, and mushy contents of my other meals.

Running a cold cloth along my face, Skye kneels in front of me, her face painted in sadness.

“How can it hurt so much, Skye, when he wasn’t even mine?” I croak, focusing on the lone tile in our bathroom that doesn’t match the rest of the flooring.

“I think you’re wrong, he was yours, Ree.”

“I was so close. I fucked up, again,” I weep, my lips collapsing with yet another sob.

“Don’t say that, don’t,” she insists, tucking her hair behind her studded ear when it goes every which way with the shaking of her head. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. She’s so pretty . . Of course she is,” I remember aloud, breathing in quickly before the tears take hold of me once more. Closing my eyes, I reach out for her and let my head rest against her shoulder.

“She really isn’t, Ree. A big pair of tits doesn’t make you pretty, and anyways, you’re far prettier. He could do much better, like you.”

“You’re just saying that,” I confess, trying to swallow, but my throat has tied itself into knots with the thoughts of him. And when that word falls out of bed inside of my head, I find that it can hurt worse. “I was his Becks, Skye, I thought it was right there. That it was gonna happen for us.”

“Oh, Ree,” she cries, sniffling against my hair when she pulls me against her. “I know, I’m so sorry . . so sorry.”

Nodding into her chest, it feels right as her necklace digs into my wet cheek. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and so does every other part of my body in some way. Somehow I let her bring me back to her bed, and hide me away in her arms. My head swims with questions, then fleeting hatred for him, and inconsolable longing the very next. I shed a tear for his smell, his contagious smile, that Scrabble game we’ll never finish, the churros I’ll never be able to eat again without him ruining them for me, the color of his eyes I could never forget, and the lost feeling of his lips I never got to kiss. The list miles long of things I never got to say to him, or do with him, or make him feel. Because now she does, and she isn’t me.

“I-I thought . . that he felt the same way about me, and that somehow he knew that I loved him.”

A whimper escapes Skye’s lips as my tears fall into her neck, adding to the puddle I’ve shed there.

“What does she have that I don’t? Am I not interesting? Does she have a nicer body than I do? Am I not pretty enough? Was I not nice enough or appreciative of him?” I weep, the questions flowing off my lips from the recesses of my mind. My name greets my ears firmly, but I ignore it. “I was trying to answer his texts when I could, but things got so busy with uni and my dad. All the driving, the tests in both places, and I couldn’t keep dates right in my head. Maybe if I’d texted him back sooner that one time, or made the lunch date on the right day the first time-.”

“Becky, don’t do the ‘ifs’ thing,” Skye urges, pulling the covers further up our shoulders before returning to combing my hair back again and again.

“But I can’t stop thinking about what went wrong, a-and how much I miss him, Skye. I miss him a hundred times more after seeing that picture,” I reveal, falling into her, my lips meeting her shoulder. My teeth dig into my skin and I let them, numb to the pain as the same word is too busy with my mind. “I don’t know if I ever wanna see him again.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to, I’ll always want to. Like something inside of me will always want him.”

The sunlight streaming in through the windows is the first thing I see when I awake. Ducking my head back under the covers, I pull them over me with a groan. The blissful ignorance of the first few minutes after waking up follows me, until it all comes crashing back.

“Are you awake?” a voice murmurs, sleep clinging to it.

“Unfortunately,” I whisper, staring into the muted light underneath the gray covers.

“I can stay home if you want me to, I was just making some breakfast,” Skye responds, the tapping of her feet along the floor following.

“No, don’t cancel your hair appointments because of me. I’ll be . . I’ll be fine,” I tell her, but then the tears greet me good morning.

“Oh, Ree, I’ll cancel and we can watch movies all day, or FRIENDS. Whatever you want,” she announces. The bed falls to one side when she sits on the edge, and I feel her hand find my back.

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that,” I return, turning around and sitting up to dive into her arms. “I was hoping I had dreamt it all and it was just a bad dream. But my life is the bad dream.”

“Oh, Ree,” she coos, surrounding me with her arms. “I know this is cliche and it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.”

“I don’t know about that. My life is a running joke lately because it feels like it’ll get better, and then it just gets worse.”

“Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it, Becky?” somebody asks. Looking up from my cupcake, I find the face of Sophie.

“Yeah, end of next week,” I answer, picking an orange sprinkle from the white frosting to eat.

“Do you have any big plans?” my boss asks as she places her lunch in the microwave.

“My brother and I hang out every year, we’re twins.”

“Oh, how fun! I remember meeting him once when he brought you lunch one day,” she smiles, turning to face me as she waits in front of the humming microwave.

I just nod and dip my finger into the frosting, feeling it melt on my tongue a second later.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yep, just tired is all,” I fib, taking a bite of the carrot cupcake, although I’m not wrong when I think about it. Skye has been a lifesaver for the last two weeks helping me get back on my feet. Thinking back on it and all of the tears leaves a funny taste in my mouth, but I try to brush it away with a forced smile.

“How old will you be this year, Becky?” Sophie asks, pulling out a rolling chair to sit to my right at the long table.

“Good old 26.”

“Wow, still a spring chicken, I’d say,” she comments, bringing a quirky smile to my lips. I almost follow her laugh with mine. “Well you know what, an early birthday present from me is you can have the rest of the day off. You always do a great job, Becky, and so you deserve it.”

“Sophie, I-,” I begin, my jaw falling to the floor.

“I mean it, go. Get out of here. Go do something that makes you happy, love, it looks like you need to,” she smiles, squeezing my arm from across the table. Standing to my feet, profuse ‘thank yous’ leave my lips before I leave the break room.

I drive around with my windows down, unsure of where to go instead of home. Before I know it, I find myself walking into my favorite little coffee shop. I’ve always loved to hang out here with a cup, reading a book, doing homework, or just relaxing on one of their sofas.

Soon, I sit down with a Cubano sandwich and an iced cinnamon roll coffee, my very favorite. Pulling a book out of my work bag, I crack it open to the first page, unable to remember when I last had the time to read a book for fun. The words of Ruth Ware stare back at me, slowly drawing me into a made-up world, and away from the desolate one trying to swallow me.

Quickly, I’m grateful for the respite from the thoughts mucking up my mind. Instead I lose myself in the sentences that spin a scary story, thanking my old self for stashing something besides a romance in my bag. That’s the last thing I could even think about indulging in right now. For some reason, the mystery entices me, a genre I’ve always had a love for. I think, especially now, it’s the aspect of being able to solve a mystery, and to fix a problem. If only I could do that now, I wish silently with a spiteful snort.

Placing my empty plate on the return area by the cash register, I return to my cozy spot on the couch and to my book. Losing my fingers in my hair, I prop my head up and open the book to where I had left off. Soft indie music trickles from the speakers as conversations float around me. Several more sofas are dotted around the large room and booths, as well as tables varying in sizes. Friends play board games borrowed from the shelf by the fireplace, and others do schoolwork or actual work. A laugh from behind the counter echos through the room, right as the bell on the front door jingles. Although across the room, I can hear the voices floating in from the sidewalk. Cars honking and birds chirping. The sounds make me itch to leave the air-conditioned room, and bring my reading outside into the June sunshine.

The words covering the pages root me to the spot, but they can’t protect me from what I hear. It’s a voice that I know inside and out, from the shortened words to the often used words. My vocal cords soon begin to tangle into knots in my throat at the mere noise. Beneath my baby blue blouse, there’s a clobbering in my chest as the voice grows near and then stops. Instinctively, hair falls through my fingers as I lower my head, wishing to remain unseen. Unknown.

I can’t stop myself, and there I am looking up to see that crinkly-eyed smile through wrenching tears.

Harry.

23 notes · View notes

isitgintimeyet · 5 years ago

Text

Letting Go

AO3

Thank you all for reading.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge - she’s a great beta.

Thanks also to @happytoobservenolongerdistant

Chapter 4: Walk On By

If you see me walking down the street And I start to cry each time we meet Walk on by, walk on by

Burt Bacharach/ Hal David

Claire sipped her coffee and looked contentedly around the living room. She couldn't quite believe she had moved in only ten days ago. It felt like she had lived here for ages. Having furniture from the house probably helped, she reasoned, although she wasn’t sure what would happen when Lamb returned there in two years time. Would he expect the furniture to be returned? And would he expect her to be ‘returned’ too? Now that she had finally made the move, she doubted she would ever return to live there.

She had definitely fallen lucky with this flat… and with her neighbours. Mrs. Crook was as sweet and kind as Anna and Mary had said. Ten days in and Claire had already been the recipient of an apple turnover, a steak and kidney pie and half a dozen scones.

And, even in this short time, she had grown fond of Anna and Mary. Anna worked in marketing at the King’s Theatre whilst Mary was an accountant in the local tax office. They seemed very different; Anna was very outgoing and vivacious with a wide circle of friends, always heading out to parties or social functions whilst Mary was quieter and more reserved. And yet, they lived together very amicably -- their characters complementing each other’s.

Then last night, Claire had finally met John, who worked as a book editor for a publishing house. Their exchange had been brief. Claire was just coming in the front door after a long day at the hospital, whilst John was on his way out for some evening's entertainment, elegantly dressed and smelling divine. He kissed her warmly on both cheeks before continuing out of the door, calling assurances that they would indeed meet very soon for a ‘proper welcome to the building’.

Claire glanced at her watch and, suddenly realising the time, rushed into her kitchen, pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and made her way across the landing to Mary and Anna’s flat.

The door to their flat was already ajar. Claire knocked and walked in. Mary and Anna were sitting in the living room, full wine glasses in hand.

“Hi, Claire. You want a drink before we go out?” Mary made to stand up.

Claire motioned her to sit. “Yes, great. Don’t get up, I’ll get it myself. And I’ll pop this one in your fridge.”

From the kitchen, Claire heard the front door open again, followed by John’s voice greeting the girls.

“Mary... lovely, my dear. Anna… as glamorous as ever. I hope you don’t mind if an old friend joins us for dinner, do you? I hadn’t seen him since uni, twelve years ago and we reconnected at a reunion-type thing this week.”

Claire took a sip from her glass as she wandered back into the living room.

“So, this is Jamie…”

The thump of Claire’s wine glass as it hit the carpet interrupted John’s introductions. She immediately bent down to retrieve it before rushing to the kitchen for a cloth. Her cheeks burning, she leant against a countertop and stood still for a minute, trying to calm her breathing.

From her initial glance, he hadn’t changed that much in eight years. His hair was shorter. No longer touching his shoulders, it was barely long enough to curl. His shoulders were a bit broader too, clad in one of those flannel checked shirts he was always so fond of. She hadn’t dared to focus on his face… or his left hand.

She could hear John’s introductions continuing. And then he spoke. That soft Highland burr seemingly unaltered by the years in America. He spoke a low tone, too low for Claire to hear, his utterances drawing laughter from Anna and Mary.

“I’ll just see if Claire needs a hand.” Mary’s voice rose above the laughter, causing Claire to abruptly grab a dishcloth and hurry back into the living room.

“I’m so sorry, Mary, Anna. The glass just slipped from my hand… must be my hand cream… not rubbed in properly…” Claire’s nervous rambling finally ground to a halt.

“Don’t worry, this carpet’s seen far worse than a drop of wine.” Mary took the cloth and dabbed at the small patch of damp next to her. “You just sit down Claire.”

Claire perched on the edge of the sofa obediently.

“And here we have the newest inmate in our building… Claire Beauchamp… Jamie Fraser.” John was determined to finish. “Claire’s another damn Sasse…”

“Hello.” Claire broke into John’s introductions, finally glancing up at Jamie.

With a curt ‘hi’, Jamie nodded his head in response.

“So, Jamie, you joining us for dinner, then? We’ve got a table at the ‘Star of India’. You like Indian food?” Anna turned her full attention to Jamie.

“Aye, I’ll be happy tae join ye if ye dinna mind. Indian’s one of ma favourites.”

******

Nine years ago

“Ye ken, Sassenach, when ye said ye were takin’ me out fer a meal, I dinna imagine this… er… place.”

“Oh, what did you imagine?”

“Och, I dinna ken… somewhere with wee flowers, candles, soft music, tablecloths and a glass or two of wine. No’ these bench tables, beer from the bottle…”

“I love the food here. It’s my favourite. What are you going to order?”

“Chicken Korma, or do they do an omelette?”

“Jamie, do you not like Indian food?”

“Honesty, is it? I canna say I do.”

“Let me order for you. I’m sure you’ll love it. But if you don’t like it I promise we don’t have to come here again. I’ll get my curry fix when you’re not around.”

“Is that a threat there, Sassenach? Because, let me tell ye, I plan tae always be around, ye ken.”

******

“Are we all ready to go then?” John looked around the room. “I’m sure the restaurant won’t mind another one joining our party. Might just have to squeeze together a bit more but I’m sure that’s not a problem, eh, Jamie?”

Anna and Mary led the way out of the flat, followed by Claire, with John and Jamie bringing up the rear. Jamie’s eyes drifted to the brown curls three steps below him.

Once he had got over the initial shock of seeing her, a neighbour of his friend no less, he tried to study her appearance through surreptitious half glances whilst maintaining his air of indifference. Not that it was an act. He knew himself to be indifferent to her. The past eight years had proved that.

At first sight, she seemed pretty much the same. From the introductions, it was clear that she wasn’t married. Her curls were as untamed as ever; perhaps she had lost a bit of weight. But the way her hands fluttered around her face in agitation hadn't changed. Neither, apparently, had her obsession with hand cream.

******

Nine years ago

“Come to bed, Sassenach. I want that round arse of yers here next tae me right now.”

“In a second. Just finishing.”

“How many times do ye have tae put that cream on yer hands?”

“But they get so dry with constant washing and using the hand sanitiser all day. I have to keep putting it on. You don’t want my hands all rough, do you?”

“Och, no, Sassenach. When ye put yer soft hands there… oh… like that… and hold me… aye… and stroke… oh god… yer touch…”

******

Downstairs, the door to Mrs. Crook’s flat was slightly open.

“Mrs. Crook...” Anna peered around the door. “Hello, Mrs. Crook, are you ok? Your door’s open.”

“Come in dear. I must have forgotten tae close it.”

Mary turned to Claire and Anna. “That’s not like her. Mind if we just check?”

As they stepped into the hallway of Mrs. Crook’s flat, it quickly became apparent that things weren’t right. The small Persian rug on the floor lay crumpled and askew. The side table had obviously been knocked, the Royal Doulton figurine laying on its side. They made their way into the living room to find Mrs. Crook sitting with one leg propped up on a stool. There was a cut just below the old woman’s hairline, the blood still fresh on her skin.

“Oh, Mrs. Crook, what happened?” Mary rushed to her side.

“Och, Dinna fash. I jes’ tripped up in the hall and banged ma head on the table. I’m fine, dinna bother about me.”

Claire’s professional instincts took over. “Can I see?”

Gently she touched the raised leg, her hands moving instinctively over the limb, pressing and prodding, looking for signs of pain or discomfort on Mrs. Crook’s face. Once satisfied, Claire sat back. “I think you’re very fortunate. You’ve only sprained your knee. We can put an ice pack on that to help with the swelling. I’m more concerned about the knock on your head. Do you feel sick, or sleepy?”

“Nae more than usual.”

“I think we need to take you to A&E, get you checked out there.”

“Oh, no, Dinna fash. I am no’ goin’ tae the hospital. I’ll be fine here. I can see ye’re all on yer way out. Dinna let me stop ye. Go, have fun.”

Claire looked sternly at the old woman. “No, I’m not leaving you here. You may have a concussion. If you won’t go to the hospital, then you’re going to have to put up with me staying to keep an eye on you.”

Mrs. Crook opened her mouth to protest, but Claire halted any protestation. “I’m not actually asking you, I’m telling you. That’s my plan. I’m going to go and get my medical bag and we’re going to spend the evening together watching the telly and drinking tea. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once outside in the main entrance hall, Claire explained the situation to John. Jamie stood next to Anna, listening.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” John said sympathetically. “Are you sure you couldn’t maybe join us later?”

“No best not. But you all go and have a good night.”

Claire stood and watched as, laughing and joking together, the four of them headed out into the street.

******

Nine years ago

“So, have ye always wanted tae be a doctor, then?”

“Yes, ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to heal people, make people better. I think maybe it’s because… no, sorry…”

“What were ye goin’ tae say?”

“Er… maybe it’s because my parents died when I was a small child. Maybe I want to try to protect families from having to go through that. I don’t really know. I only know it’s always been my big dream.”

“I ken ye’ll be a grand doctor. I can tell. Ye’re a true healer.”

********

With Mrs.Crook comfortably settled, an ice pack on her knee and the cut on her head cleaned and washed, Claire sat down for an evening of watching television. As the opening credits for ‘X Factor’ appeared on the screen, she finally let her mind begin to wander over the evening’s events.

Like an unaccustomed hole in a tooth that the tongue is repeatedly drawn towards, even with the knowledge of pain to follow, so Claire’s mind kept being drawn towards Jamie, analysing every aspect of his sudden and very unexpected debut.

His physical appearance (still as muscular as ever, perhaps even more so, ageing well); his voice (no trace of the past eight years in his accent); his attire (still the same casual clothing, but worn so well. No wedding ring but then he never would wear any jewellery anyway so…); his demeanour (open and friendly… except to her).

And then, Claire realised, came the pain -- We have met. Now we are strangers, worse than strangers for we may never become acquainted.

NOTE: The last line is a direct quote from ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen.

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #Letting Go #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 4

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seoschangbin · 5 years ago

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no worries! sorry for my late reply too though😭are you done with this semester now??? i hope you can have a fun break filled with nothing but rest n love!!!💞omg biochem sounds like the worst... are u done with that portion of your major tho??? and oh man i wish i was close to graduating😭i'm a third year (US usually has 4) but i think i'm gonna have to stay for an extra year so... got two more years left🚶🏻‍♀️wbu? i hope the suffering of uni is almost over for you🤗💕-🎁💫

no don’t apologize!! u can always take ur time 💖 and yes i’m done and free!! master gave rachel a gre grade rachel is FREE!!!! nd omg ur too sweet i also hope ur break is filled with rest nd love!! (love from ME) i am done with biochem thankfully!! but i truly thought i would never survive and i’m taking only fun stuff next semester hehe i’m looking forward to it! 😌 aww you’re more than halfway though you got this!! enjoy the rest of ur time i feel like it’s gone by so fast anyways so it’ll be nice to have an extra year 🥰 i’m actually graduating in april! aaah!

i hope that last final you took went well!!! n i also hope that you're enjoying some freedom now😤💞omg really? :0 way to go felix!!! gosh he gives me such bestie energy, i always wanna hype him up🥺🤲🏼voices n hellevater!!!! some of the best songs omg. i've been having skz on repeat lately and wow grow up n awaken are on constant repeat, i've fallen for those songs again!!!💞side effects choreo is a lot of fun!!! it's the best to dance along to heh. -🎁💫

still fingers crossed over the last one but nothing i can do about it now so i’ll forget about it 😞 omg me TOO felix is just so baby and sunshine.. when he smiles i’m like bro.. what do u want.. i’ll give u anything.. ur so cute.. . 😳 and me too but levanter album mjdkgj grow up makes me feel so nostalgic 😭 awaken is a banger too but the two are so different 😳and omg do you dance?? :O

ooo so miroh has somewhat of a soft spot for you as well then!!! its such a great song but i always think about how chan wanted to add an elephant sound to it hngjkfjsldk. winning 1st for levanter!!! so proud of the boys🥺🤲🏼at first i thought how cute it was of hyunjin to upload two photos then i realized it was bin...😐he doesnt wanna spoil us too much i guess😔got7 is great!!! but i def feel more at ease with skz since i'm being more chill with them!!!🙇🏻‍♀️💞-🎁💫

tbh.. maybe i should just say all titles songs have a lil soft spot in my heart 😭 omg i always forget he said that kjdgkajd chan .. what goes thru his mind! i’m so happy they got their second win before the end of the year it’s what they deserve 💖 nd truly changbin playing me like that.. ok... 😐 are you a jyp kind of person then hehe?

literally😭i wanna watch hyunjin's recent vlives but then i think do i really wanna put myself through this n fall even More for sir hwang😔finding skz!!! i watched the first episode a while back before i got drowned with uni work, so i'll have to pick it up again! woojin in that ep tho, his Power. sometimes buzzfeed does some really cute video ideas with groups so it'd be fun to see!!! and ooo monsta x i've been wanting to get into them honestly!!!💕-🎁💫

mskdgjskdg STOP SIR HWANG 😭😭 he;s so soft n endearing fr stop that sir hwang.. honestly ur right.. woojin was so powerful in that episode i need to go back and rewatch it.. not sure if ur familiar w victon but the same energy bt woojin + their leader in their running man episode nd it just sends me everytime.. skz x buzzfeed 2020 bls.. let us see it! omg i hope u get into mx!! they’re so funny and pure i love them 😞💖

binnie is taller than me but not by much so i can call him tiny, plus he just exudes and Is teeny energy🥺🥺🥺n felix's mind!!!! best binnie stan huh😌gosh i was the same too))): woojin was climbing up the bias list for me too before the News occured. we still coping😎😎😎gosh i Still need to watch the aussie line vlive, i've seen clips n it looks so funny n cute😭i was thinking if i should have you guess who my bias is but!!! i think i'll just say hehe-🎁💫

omg i know changbin is like Tinie baby energy the ep where he did the zipline thing!! baby!! felix nd changbin just have the cutest friendship i love them 😣 vibe.. we still feelin that wooj hole It’s Fine 😔omg yes the aussie line vlive was just the purest.. felix x egg... pure... pure and good!

it's changbin!!!💕so i'm also changbin biased!!! he's actually been number one for a while now... binnie not letting chan win for too long i guess😤but i say both are my ults!!! i can never choose between them🥺and yes i'm on break now!!! i don't have many plans honestly, i'm just going to relax n probably game the whole break! gotta give myself some down time before this next semester😔but i'll probably make some time to keep up with my language studies. wbu? any plans???-🎁💫

omg changbin nd chan. interestin! changbin is the cutest so changbin stans we goin through it! u 🤝 me suffering bin fans.. ooh what kind of gaming are u into! definitely bls take the break to relax and energize urself for the new semester.. only good things for us for 2020!! i’m going on vacation starting next week so i’m going to be on the beach!

#beach + me.. probably will sunburn x 1000 rip me #but i might be gone a bit next week before the reveal but im going to make u smth so im sorry if i cant post it on the day of!#🎁💫#anonymous #ask

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1112lw · 5 years ago

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Every question!!

SDFFSDFG DAM OK SIS

LONG POST AHEAD IF U LITERALLY WANNA KNOW ME PERSONALLY JUST READ THIS LMFAO

1: Name: Arche/Jupiter, my close friends know my real name so!

2: Age: High school has just been done so try to guess

3: Fears: Heights, oral presentations, the dark

4: 3 things I love: Drawing, men- concept art n stuff like that

5: 4 turns on: Oh here we go- uhh thighs, messy hair? when they give u The Look or when they. say things i will not talk about here HHGBDF n uhhh Arms 👀👀

6: 4 turns off: weird macho attitude, overly confident bullshit, being selfish and fuckboys in general

7: My best friend: not sure what this means but my bff is named Daphnée n i love her and ive known her my whole life so

8: Sexual orientation: homosexuale

9: My best first date: :))))))) as if

10: How tall am I: sigh. I’m 5″4

11: What do I miss: sometimes i miss the feeling loved ig

12: What time were I born: 12:19

13: Favourite color: pink!

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favourite quote: My senior quote!! “if what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, I’m telling you I’m immortal”

16: Favourite place: well? my room ig? I like my yard too

17: Favourite food: ugh ramen,,,korean dishes are TASTE as fuck but i also like classic ass spaghetti so like lol

18: Do I use sarcasm: does it look like i dont

19: What am I listening to right now: dr.phil LMFAO

20: First thing I notice in new person: Hair and eyes!! also how they laugh

21: Shoe size: Like. a 7-8 in women’s 6 in men’s

22: Eye color: Hazel/Golden yes bitch let me be special

23: Hair color: it’s either dark brown or golden brown idk

24: Favourite style of clothing: bruv its either kpoppie fuckboy or uwu skirts pastels

25: Ever done a prank call?: no i have anxiety

26: Meaning behind my URL:

27: Favourite movie: rise of the guardians and HTTYD

28: Favourite song: Comeback Home (BTS cover)

29: Favourite band: looks in the camera i dont know nan molla huh

30: How I feel right now: I’m fine im hungry

31: Someone I love: shoutout to my babeys in my server ily

32: My current relationship status: Single(tm)

33: My relationship with my parents: theyre fine ig just a bit tired

34: Favourite holiday:

35: Tattoos and piercing I have: Ear piercings? that’s it

36: Tattoos and piercings I want:

37: The reason I joined Tumblr:

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other? I sure hope not?

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? A bit ig?

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? Literally no

41: When did I last hold hands? Like last Friday

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? 20 minutes

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? no i havent shaved in like months

44: Where am I right now? in my room, in quebec, canada

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? bitch i sure hope my friends would

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? fuck my ears

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? yeah

48: Am I excited for anything? yeah? yeah

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? ig? always

50: How often do I wear a fake smile? just at work tbh

51: When was the last time I hugged someone? not long ago i cant tell but my friends r cuddle monsters so

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? i havent kissed anyone so

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? lemme think uhhh no not rlly im not dumb

54: What is something I disliked about today? i woke up n i thought i had school lol

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? oh john cock i want to be ur best friend

56: What do I think about most? i daydream 24/7

57: What’s my strangest talent? uhhh i can put my thumb behind my hand?

58: Do I have any strange phobias? trypophobia, if thats “weird”

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? depends on what the video is, mostly behind

60: What was the last lie I told? idk answering to my deadname

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? online

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I slightly believe in ghosts? also aliens GOTTA exist so

63: Do I believe in magic? i think!

64: Do I believe in luck? yeah

65: What’s the weather like right now? very pretty i filmed a video outside!!

66: What was the last book I’ve read? L’Étranger d’Albert Camus in french class

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline? yes my dad’s a mechanic

68: Do I have any nicknames? a lot a lot

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? bitch @ my birth #neverforget

70: Do I spend money or save it? i have 40$ in my name right now

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? yes highlighter

73: Favourite animal? cats or otters

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? FBISDFD NO WE DONT TALK ABOUT IT

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name idk he can have any last name he wants!!!

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? everytime i start hearing “waiting for you anpanman” or “i just wanna go home” 👀👀

77: How can you win my heart? aaahh. be a twink. b fashionable. b funny. cheesy. pls romance me like a npc in the sims 2

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? s(he) died smh

79: What is my favorite word? cunt is SUCH a satisfying word

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr? oh great uh honestly cant be fucked

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? please have brain. PLEASE

82: Do I have any relatives in jail? i sure hope the fuck not?

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? either invisibility or mind reading

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? ahaaa “what are your intrusive thoughts”

85: What is my current desktop picture? my lesbian sims getting married LMFAO

86: Had sex? no

87: Bought condoms? no

88: Gotten pregnant? NO

89: Failed a class? i think yeah maths last year

90: Kissed a boy? :(((

91: Kissed a girl? no

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? no

93: Had job? I have a job rn so

94: Left the house without my wallet? yeah when i go to school

95: Bullied someone on the internet? define bullying?

96: Had sex in public? virgin squad

97: Played on a sports team? yeah

98: Smoked weed? no ew

99: Did drugs? no ew

100: Smoked cigarettes? NO EW

101: Drank alcohol? yep

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? no i’d die

103: Been overweight? i’m twig

104: Been underweight? i think i was underweight when i was young? i was very Small

105: Been to a wedding? yes very long boring

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? bruh. everyday

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? probably?

108: Been outside my home country? ONCE

109: Gotten my heart broken? TWICE !

110: Been to a professional sports game? yesss canadians game!!

111: Broken a bone? no

112: Cut myself? not technically

113: Been to prom? SOON SOON SOON SOSOSNSBFSHDD

114: Been in airplane? once

115: Fly by helicopter? i am not rich bitch

116: What concerts have I been to? noneeee- WAIT NO MARIE MAI

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? not sex but for the purpose of pretending i have a penis yes plenty

118: Learned another language? yeah!! i learned english, i almost learned spanish and i’m trynna learn korean now

119: Wore make up? i try!! but i’m not super good

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18? not 18 yet but it’s goin that way

121: Had oral sex? as if

122: Dyed my hair? i wishhh

123: Voted in a presidential election? I WISH THE ELECTIONS R ONE MONTH B4 MY BIRTHDAY

124: Rode in an ambulance? nope

125: Had a surgery? yes at a week old

126: Met someone famous? i think yes but i was super small

127: Stalked someone on a social network? define stalked?

128: Peed outside? yes

129: Been fishing? YES

130: Helped with charity? i think? we do volunteering so

131: Been rejected by a crush? not directly

132: Broken a mirror? no

133: What do I want for birthday? boyf......boy..boyff

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? oh man uhh maybe 2-3, i dont know their names yet honestly

135: Was I named after anyone? MY DAD NAMED ME AFTER A FUCKIN CLIENT HE MET. as for my actual name now I named myself after my fav video game character. lit

136: Do I like my handwriting? yeah!!

137: What was my favourite toy as a child? bitch hot wheels

138: Favourite Tv Show? hells kitchen,,,,judge judy,,,anythin like that

139: Where do I want to live when older? honestly i wish i could just live in japan or tokyo, or new york? but i will most likely end up in montreal

140: Play any musical instrument? i used to play the clarinet last year!!

141: One of my scars, how did I get it? the one on my knee, i scratched my desk with my knee

142: Favourite pizza toping? my dad makes AMAZING sea food pizzas,,,

143: Am I afraid of the dark? a lot

144: Am I afraid of heights? A LOT

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? idk prolly? im a bit of a goody two shoes or however u spell it

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end: dont we all

147: What I’m really bad at: organizing my anxiety n shit i get overwhelmed

148: What my greatest achievments are: finishing high school

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me: honestly has to be that time someone dug up my vent post about being dysphoric to try to say i hated myself with some dumbass DySphorIa Is SelF HaTRed argument

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery: pay my parents’ debt off, buy 284223$ of BT21 merch, pay my whole college/uni and transition

151: What do I like about myself: idk i like how i literally do not give a fuck anymore and ive learned to love myself instead of trynna care

152: My closest Tumblr friend: @peptobismol-official @ace-landofthesun @dorkalisious and ana but idk her @ anymore :((( ana pls

153: Something I fantasise about: we dont talk about that

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?: lit. please stop crawling in my ceiling !

ok now that u know my whole biography. go doxx me ig. bye bye

#Arche.txt #asks #ask #long post

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early-sxnsets · 6 years ago

Text

Isn’t This Silly & Aren’t You Beautiful

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909690/chapters/37627175

Chapter 5/16 of Love You All, Die For This

Word Count: 2132

Chapter Summary: Everyone reaches their breaking point at times, even Baz.

Notes: thank you @jessethejoyful for goin over this for me! bit of a content warning; this chapter is of a couple’s fight. there’s no violence, but it’s an argument, just to warn y’all!

BAZ

My fingers grip tighter around the fistfuls of my hair, breath coming out in unsteady, long exhales. Don’t yell at him. It’s not worth a fight. “Simon?” You know better than this, Basilton. “Can you come in here for a moment?” Stop. He’s not in a good place, and you’re not either. Just cover it or clean it and leave it be.

The soft thumps of his feet grow until Snow’s standing at the doorway, shirtless and in sweats and holding that bloody vampire book in his hand and phone in the other. He gives me a once over, not looking remotely concerned. “Yeah?” he sighs, tucking the book under his arm and rubbing his eyes. Dark, heavy bags. His voice is barely a croak; he won’t even bother to sleep. Won’t even bother to really talk to me.

“What is this?”

He looks bored, glancing down. “The water-ring on the table?”

“You just left shit out. Didn’t fucking clean, didn’t do shit, Snow, Crowley, will you fucking clean after yourself?” I spit out, feeling my hands tremble as palms lay flush against the table. Cautiously, I raise my gaze up to Snow’s, which is locked on mine as he stares at me incredulously.

“It’s one thing, Baz. Calm down.”

“No. No. It’s not one thing, Simon, it’s everything here and there throughout the whole house. You’re a slob! You’re not even taking care of yourself.” I snap, crossing my arms a tad aggressively across my chest as my eyes stare daggers not his. His head drops, chest deflating with a huff as he sets his cursed book and phone on the table next to the hideous water ring he’d left and the disheartening personality shift that’s gone with it.

“Fuck off, Baz. I’ve been busy,” he grumbles, barely even putting the slightest of effort to properly retaliate; to make it feel like a proper argument with the Simon I know. The Simon who would at least snap at me, then cry because he hadn’t meant to.

No. This Simon’s been stuffed away, reading everything he can get his hands on. He’s stopped eating with me, he’s stopped acknowledging my presence when we’re even sitting together; I have to take his hand and kiss it to snap him away, and only then for the briefest of moments.

This is worse than post-uni. Fuck-all worse. Back then he at least seemed to want to be near me when he caved, but now he’s running off to the bathroom and locking himself up while reading article after article that are all telling him the same thing. It’s not going to work. It’s not going to work.

“It’s not going to work!” I let it slip, breath hitching as I glare down and square my shoulders. Something in me snaps, surging through my mind as Snow just… stands there. “Look at me, Simon, look up at me Merlin and fucking Morgana! What are you thinking?”

I watch as he shifts, weight moving from foot to foot as his eyes stay downcasted. “It isn’t worth arguing, Baz. Just fuck off.”

“No,” I spout in an bitter, barking laugh, rolling up onto the balls of my feet. “No, it is worth arguing if it’ll snap you out of this funk you’ve driven yourself into. Not until you start acting normal for once.”

His head lifts up and his gaze raises up to mine, a scowl spread across his face. “Fuck. Off.”

“No. Nope,” I pop the p for effect, “I’m not going to. We’re married now, remember? Your problems are my problems.”

“And this is our problem, but it’s mine to deal with!” He shouts back, stepping backwards towards the doorway. A hand reaches out and steadies him on a chair, dragging it in the slightest across the hardwood in a screech.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticks softly, counting off the seconds that Snow and I stay locked in a staring standstill. I count along with them, watching Snow’s range of emotions roll through his expressions. He seems to land on angry and somehow, it hits me harder than it should. He would’ve gone off here, if he still had magick. He can feel it to; the air still doesn’t spark when he’s at a rolling boil.

I open my mouth before pausing, trying to urge the words out as gently and deliberately as I can. My hand reaches forward, but his head shakes. I drop it. “They’re not your burden. It’s our life, not your lone drama.” It’s too late. Even in as soft of a tone as I can muster, Snow’s still glaring at me.

“Oh, don’t you say that,” he growls back, fist closing around the head of the chair. “Fucking hell, Baz, it isn’t like that. I’m trying to figure it out for us, aren’t I? It’s that what this baby’s for; us?”

I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, chest pulling in as his face contorts further into a scowl. “Is it? Is it really, Simon? And how are we right now?” Snow’s head lifts, mouth gaping up and down but letting out soundless spats. I’m an absolutely dick, because I just laugh again and cross my chest more, letting myself away from him more and more. “Yes. Right. Thought so, because I haven’t gotten dick in weeks, Snow, weeks have gone by and you’ve barely touched me. You’re a fucking brick wall, and every time I try to get you to even kiss me, you act like it’s a chore. A chore. I’m so fucking tired of this, Simon, of all of what’s been happening since they told us that it won’t work. Guess what, Simon! It really won’t work! They already told us that. Just give up on this heroic quest to try to save the day again and we’ll fucking move on with our lives like we had it before.”

He blinks and for a split second, I’m convinced that maybe it got through to him, that he’ll look at me and apologize for everything that he’s been doing. That everything has just been him dealing with the grief. That he’s sorry for ignoring me and ignoring that we had a life before we even realized we wanted a kid.

That this is bullshit, and we can be happy without that.

But I’ll be damned, he doesn’t. His face warps into a bitter glare as he steps closer and eggs me forward. “Really?” He snaps, voice growing tougher. “Really? I work tirelessly, day and night, to get us something we care about and you think I’m wasting it? You’re tired, Baz? I’m tired too. I’m fucking exhausted, but it doesn’t matter because I’m doing this for us.”

“I didn’t ask you to run yourself half to death. I didn’t ask for any of this. All I ever asked for was you, Simon. Not running around and trying to have a kid that I could give two fucks if we do end up having one or not!”

“What, do you not want a kid anymore? Is that it?”

“I want my husband back,” I hiss coldly as he stalks into my space, chest tightening into a tight ball as my eyes prick. I stumble backwards, getting away from his edging words. I’m dizzy. “I want my husband instead of this. You’re not you, Simon, and you won’t snap out of it.”

I pleadingly look at him, watching him swim in my blurring direct vision as he looks at me with such disgust that I might as well have told him that our relationship is a joke. “You’re a selfish prick,” he spits quietly. “This is about you, isn’t it?”

My head shakes faster than I can control it, eyes squeezing to keep it all back. “That’s fucking rich,” I let out the rest of my thought, trying to recollect myself. “I don’t… I can’t deal with this anymore. I can’t… I can’t…”

“Then what, Baz? Are you going to fucking leave?” His words come through me as if it was an old recording; unreal, staticed and hitting me in waves. “Because the door is over there. Go on and live without having to deal with me anymore.”

I choke out an unusual noise, fist tightly pressed to my lips. “Don’t… I didn’t mean it like that…” utter, but my cracked eyes follow his shaking, unkempt curls. It strikes a chord in me. It hurts me more than it should. “Fine. I’m gone,” I murmur, throat caught as I push past him, into the hallway. I just grab a coat and throw on boots, grabbing the keys and throwing open the door with an audible wind gush.

My hand reaching for the glass door handle levitates over it for a fleeting moment, waiting for any sort of discernible hint that Snow might try to stop me, but it’s dead silent.

I push out the door, the splitting wind feeling glass shards into my cheeks. It nearly freezes the long streaks left by the stray tears trickling down my cheeks.

The car’s cold. I start it, taking a few tries before the blowing wind hits me. It’s freezing.

I slam it off, trying to fixate on the humming engine as I sink deeper into the leather cushioning and mutter to myself every word that was said, flitting around and occupying my every thought.

It starts as a few tears and the flutter of my chest, but it only takes moments to build into sobs, my forehead pressing against the steering wheel. Every sob hits harder, breath spasming each time.

His face flickers across my brain, but it doesn’t rest; its sinks down into the inky pond where all my thoughts float by my body. I’m tied to a cement brick, or maybe I’m the cement brick and Snow’s my victim.

I let myself sink into the muck, fingers numbed by the cold and body shivering at every huff. Every time I think it’s slowed, my body sputters and starts up again, head raising and slapping back against the headrest.

The sky lets it out, too; a gentle flurry starts up, then picks up into a steady snowfall. I cut the car, trying to ground my mind further with each huff.

Maybe I’m a fucking child, and hell, Snow has enough of me, but I need to help him. I have to do something to stop this someway.

The car softly beeps at me, the door swinging open and being cut by my yanking of the keys.

The snow dusts my hair, resting on my shoulders and blanketing me as I stand outside of the car. It takes me moments to take myself back in, toeing off my shoes and hanging my jacket. The house is pitch-dark, illuminated by drawn curtains and soft moonlight filling the rooms and shadowing each piece of furniture.

The bedroom door is left open a crack, but I don’t hear the loud, steady sound of Snow’s sleeping.

He’s laying there, back to the door, but his breathing is clearly not steady enough for him to be asleep.

Part of me wants to be as self-deprecating as I used to be and just say he’s up because he’s trying to deal with his anger, but the realistic part of me is telling me that he’s up waiting for me to come back to bed. The way his head turns a little, curls falling towards the pillow as I see him look over in my direction, it makes me feel a little warm inside. Confirms the latter.

I undress to my undershirt and briefs, slipping in behind him. He doesn’t move closer, but doesn’t press away either. I’ll take that. I’ll take anything but rejection.

I look at his hand, resting on his hip so innocently that it feels intentional.

I take it, curling mine around his and kissing his hair. He exhales against me. “I’m sorry,” I mumble into the back of his head, eyes shut. It takes a few beats before he gives any resemblance of a response, but his hand turns and presses against mine, interlocking our fingers together. Now it’s my turn to exhale. “I’ll… I’ll phone for some specialists in the morning. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

A gentle shuffling leads his back away from me, but he doesn’t leave the space, instead simply turning to face me. His eyes lock onto mine, taking a few seconds before briefly nodding and pressing his face into my chest. Every part of me relaxes, hand losing grip on his before my forearms find their way over Snow’s shoulders and lead him closer against me. We exhale this time together, staying like that until sunlight starts filtering to the room.

#fic #fanfic #carry on #snowbaz #fanfiction #mine #love you all die for this #lyadft #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #baz #simon #cw fight #i promise they're fine they just had a big boy argument

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

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Can you do 13 and 23?

#13 “i could kiss you right now!”

So, I’ve combined these requests to give you this. Sorry it took a little long. I’ve been pretty busy with school, but i finally got a bit of down time to write this out. Hope you like it, and thanks for the request :) xx

When Harry had called Y/N and asked her to meet him at a local cafe between their two flats just off campus, she figured it was just for a quick meet up like they usually did. So, she’d donned a jacket to protect against the biting cold of a late fall day in London and trekked her way the short walk from her flat to the warm shoppe.

Harry and Y/N had met their first year of uni during their very first class of the year, and they’d been pretty good mates ever since. It was the first time either of them had been in London for more than a day’s trip, both having been from other parts of England. Harry was from Holmes Chapel, a small village in Cheshire, and Y/N was from Malmesbury, a similarly small village in Wiltshire. They’d bonded over their humble upbringings and their similar tastes in music, as well as their love for baking. It also helped that they were both studying law and were in many of the same classes and made sure they were always together for any projects and study groups.

Three years in, they were thick as thieves, and they spent most of their free time together with the occasional added company of Niall, an Irishman whom Harry shared a flat with, and Y/N’s own flatmate, Penelope. Harry and Y/N remained the closest out of the bunch, though, and many mistook them for a couple, even though there’d never even been an inkling of anything other than platonic love in their friendship. They usually just laughed it off, and Y/N only really blushed when Penelope brought it up now.

It was fair to say Y/N had a bit of a crush on Harry. She always had, really. His cheeky grin and his disarmingly green eyes were the first things she’d noticed about him the first time she saw him, and his charismatic personality and intense care for others were a close second, and that was only because he hadn’t spoken for at least ten minutes the first time they sat beside each other. The feelings she had for him got brushed aside within the first month of knowing him, though, opting for being a good friend as opposed to trying her hand at getting anything else. Looking back now, that had been the best decision she could have ever made, because Harry and her shared a bond that she didn’t even share with her mates that she’d had since she was a toothless little girl in primary.

Y/N shook out her umbrella under the awning of the shoppe, already spying Harry through the large windows. He was at their normal table, two cups of tea already sat in front of him, and Y/N had to smile at the gesture. Harry grumbled every time Y/N stood at the counter to order, looking over the menu to find something to drink when he knew she’d just end up ordering the same thing she always did, so he took it upon himself to get it for her if he arrived first, avoiding the headache. Y/N really only did it to annoy him and see him flush a little when he got worked up over it, but she also enjoyed knowing that he knew her well enough to order what she liked. Harry had the patience of a saint when it came to anything else, but for some reason, Y/N’s ordering skills were his downfall. She found it hilarious.

Harry ran a hand through his long curls, something Y/N had come to love. When her and Harry met, he’d had a pretty standard, shaggy haircut where the ends of his hair only really began to curl a bit, but Y/N was pretty sure he hadn’t cut it since. It was now just past his shoulders, forming full ringlets that always looked so lush and always smelled of the coconut shampoo he used in the mornings after his workouts. She’d teased him about its length when he first started growing it out, but she’d developed a soft part for his signature locks, and she quite enjoyed running her fingers through it when he’d lay his head on her lap while they were studying or watching some telly.

“Hey, thanks for gettin’ this for me,” she said in greeting, dropping a kiss to the top of his head before she pulled out her chair. “Bloody cold out there.”

“Well, it’s December…” he reasoned, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Thank you, Harold. I had no idea.” Y/N rolled her eyes and blew a bit at the surface of the liquid in her mug. The scent of chai hit her in the face, and she hummed in contentment at her favourite winter-time tea. Technically, it was still only fall, but it was cold enough that she considered it to be winter. Honestly, she’d drink chai tea at any time of year, but the spicy scent from the cinnamon in it reminded her vividly of the winter months.

“How’s it going, love?” he asked, once they’d both settled.

“Good, just finished up that essay we have due for Jameson’s class,” she shrugged. “Still gotta do the editing and resource page, but it’s done otherwise.”

“I’ve still gotta get my conclusion together,” he groaned, sitting back in his chair. He scrubbed his hands over his face before pushing one back into his hair. “Only got a few days left.”

“You’ll be fine, H,” Y/N brushed off with a wave of her hand. She knew Harry enough to know that he always stressed about things like this, only to pull through with high marks once he turned it in. She’d watched him stress and ramble about how he was going to do shit on something, only for him to pull absolute gold out of his arse and turn in an immaculate piece of work that deserved to be bloody published. It was incredibly annoying, but she found his worrying beforehand a little endearing.

“I know,” he huffed, leaning his elbows back on the table. “I’m just anxious for holiday, I think.”

They only had a week left before the term ended for Christmas and New Years, and they could feel the antsy-ness creeping up on them. Both were excited for the time off and get back to their families and have a bit of a relaxation before they went on with their last term before graduation. They were so close, but the break was much needed and felt like it couldn’t come fast enough.

“One more week of exams and papers,” Y/N nodded. “Then we get to go home and pig out on junk and watch as much telly as we want.”

“Got my best mate’s wedding to go to, too,” Harry added, his tone suddenly becoming tense, fingers darting up to pull at his bottom lip.

Y/N squinted her eyes at the gesture. Harry’s oral fixation only really presented itself when he was nervous about a situation. The lip pulling, biting at his bottom one with his front teeth, licking them, dragging his fingers along the corners—they were all his tells. Y/N was curious as to why he was nervous, now, though. Last she’d heard, Harry was excited about his friend’s impending wedding. He’d been asked to be a groomsman and he’d been elated to get to wear a fancy tux and spend a day with his mates from back home. She was unsure of where the nerves were suddenly coming from and why.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked. “Yeh were so excited for the wedding just last week. Why are yeh nervous now?”

Harry cringed. He was about to have to spill his secret to his best mate at uni about the lie he’d been keeping up with his friends from back home. He’d also have to propose his ridiculous idea to her and hopefully plead his way into getting her to agree to it. He felt pretty shitty to have kept the story up for so long with his friends, but it had been innocent at first, and then just progressively gotten out of hand. He didn’t think it’d come this far, though, and he knew it was all his fault. He didn’t see a way out, really, and he was hoping Y/N would just agree so he wouldn’t be revealed as a liar at his best mate’s wedding.

“I’ve done something stupid.”

Y/N snorted. “What else is new?”

He scowled at her as she giggled over the rim of her mug. “I was only gonna tell yeh ‘cause I needed your help, but I’ll go elsewhere if you’re gonna be mean ‘bout it.”

She quelled her laughs, only a few slipping out as she apologized. “Sorry, sorry. What’s the problem, H? How can I help?”

“I may or may not have told my mates—on more than a few occasions—that I couldn’t hang out when I was back home because I was spending time with my girl.”

Y/N gave him a deadpan look. “Why on earth would yeh do that? Yeh haven’t got a girl. And can’t yeh just tell ‘em yeh broke up or summat?”

“I ran out of excuses to avoid goin’ to parties and pub crawls. My liver couldn’t handle it anymore,” he whined, a drama queen as always. “Tellin’ ‘em I had a girl was easier than just tellin’ ‘em ‘no.’”

“You’re an idiot. Still doesn’t explain why yeh can’t just tell ‘em yeh broke up. Happens in real life, H.”

“Problem is, I already told ‘em I couldn’t hang out the first night I got back because I had to pick my girl up from the train station then. Said she was visitin’ over the holidays.”

“You’re an actual idiot,” she repeated, shaking her head. Only Harry would get himself into this sort of situation with no way to back out.

“I know! I fucked up.”

“So how exactly am I supposed to help yeh?”

“Gonna need someone to go to the wedding with since I already fucked up and put down that I’d be bringing a plus one. Now I need a plus one. Just pretend to be my date.”

Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter in her chair. “You’re not asking me to pretend to be your date, Harry. I’d really be your date to the wedding. You’re asking me to pretend to be your girlfriend. The girlfriend that your dumb ass made up.”

“Yeah, alright,” he relented with a sigh. “I’m asking yeh to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a few days. I’m going home on a Tuesday, the wedding’s on a Friday. Yeh can be back home by Saturday evening.”

“I haven’t got anything to wear to a wedding, Harry!” she protested. She was a jeans and jumpers sort of girl. The only dress she owned was one that was appropriate for job interviews and formal presentations. It was very business-like, and was definitely not something that was wedding-worthy.

“I’m sure Gem’s got something yeh can borrow,” Harry assured, already knowing his sister and Y/N were around the same size. Y/N had a few more…assets than he’d ever cared to notice about his sister, but they’d made it work before. Y/N had visited him in Holmes Chapel enough times to become friends with Gemma and swap clothes with her when need be.

“You’re really gonna make me do this?”

“I’m not makin’ yeh do anything,” he reasoned. “I’m askin’ nicely. And you’re agreein’, because you’re my best mate and yeh love me.” He shot her a cheeky grin, hoping it would get her to agree faster. He really did have to get back to his flat to finish his paper. And he had work later in the evening, so he was in a bit of a time crunch.

“You’re really lucky that I do love yeh, Styles,” she grumbled.

“So, is that a ‘yes?’”

“Yeah, sure. Like weddings well ‘nough.”

So that’s how she ended up on a train to Holmes Chapel with Harry the Tuesday after the beginning of their winter holiday. Anne and Gemma knew Y/N was tagging along with Harry to his mate’s wedding, but they didn’t know that she was pretending to be his girlfriend, as well. Neither his mum nor his sister were to be in attendance of the wedding, so it hadn’t been necessary to tell them. They just brushed it off as Harry asking Y/N to be his plus one and her getting to spend a little time with the Styles-Twist family during their break from school.

Gemma wouldn’t be showing up until the next day, with instructions from Harry to bring a few dress options for Y/N. Gemma was more than happy to comply, and she promised her brother she’d bring a few things she knew his mate would like.

Harry and Y/N agreed to act as couple-y as need be in front of his friends, not uncomfortable with showing physical affection toward one another anyways, even though she huffed and rolled her eyes through a lot of the discussion, still unable to fathom just how stupid he was to have gotten himself into this mess. She’d play nice when they were around his friends, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take the piss out on him any chance she could get otherwise.

Anne was all smiles and warm hugs when Harry and Y/N walked through her front door. Anne always loved Y/N, liking that her personality was a perfect compliment to Harry’s. She’d once accidentally voiced her opinion that she thought Harry and Y/N would make a good couple to Harry, which he’d immediately shot down. Anne could understand that they were just good friends, but she really thought they’d be better in a romantic relationship. And she wasn’t entirely convinced that both of them weren’t attracted to the other. She saw the way Harry’s gaze would linger on Y/N whenever she was in the room, even if he was having a conversation with someone else. And she saw the way Y/N’s lips would perk up in a little grin any time Harry was around, even if he wasn’t talking to or near here at the time. Anne was pretty sure they were smitten with each other and just too blind to see it.

Anne asked them about how school was going as she brewed up a pot of tea after they’d put their things away in Harry’s room. They took turns chatting about how studies were going and their anxiousness at finally being in their last part of school. Both Harry and Y/N would be carrying on to get their masters degrees, but it was nice to finally be done with their initial studies. They’d be qualified to get jobs in their fields, now, and actually utilize the skills they’d been learning for the last three years. They’d also be going to the same school again, still in London. They were glad to still have each other as support as they moved on to a different chapter in their lives.

Y/N stayed in Gemma’s room that night since it was vacant, but the following day, after Gemma arrived, she stayed in Harry’s room. It wasn’t uncommon for them, sleeping in the same bed together, and no one else thought anything of it. At this point, everyone who knew Harry and Y/N were used to their comfortable dynamic. Gemma had initially teased them about sleeping in the same bed together the first time Y/N had come out to visit, but it was just that once. It was a little weird now if they didn’t share a bed.

Wednesday evening, Y/N and Harry got hooked into going to see his mates down at the local pub so they can all hang out in a relaxed environment before the wedding. Harry no longer has an excuse, since they’ve all got to meet his “girlfriend” at some point, and Y/N points out that it’ll be an easy way to get introductions out of the way. So, Harry and Y/N get dressed after supper and head down to the pub. When they’re about a block away, Y/N grabs onto Harry’s wrist, trying to get his hand out of his pocket.

“What’re yeh doing? It’s cold,” he whined. He put a jacket on before they left, but it hasn’t got any pockets, so he’d been forced to put his hands in his jeans for warmth, but it wasn’t enough.

“Hold my hand, yeh knob,” she scoffed. “We look like we don’t even wanna be near each other.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “We’re nearly bumping into each other, we’re walking so close together.”

“Harry, you’re super affectionate. It looks weird when someone like you isn’t touching the girlfriend they claim to care about.”

She’s got a point, Harry realized, so he easily slipped his fingers between Y/N’s dainty little ones, surprised to find them so warm. She smirked as she took their joined hands and shoved it into the large pocket of her jacket where it’s much toastier than the outside air. Harry flashes her a content grin before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

When they made it through the door of the pub, Harry immediately spotted his mates, all sat together in a large corner booth. Liam sat in the center, his arm draped around Cheryl’s shoulders, holding her close to his side. They were the ones getting married this weekend, and they looked completely content to Y/N. She knew Liam was a year older than Harry, and Cheryl was a few years older than her fiancé, but you couldn’t tell that just by looking at them, Louis was there too, sat on Liam’s other side, his girlfriend Eleanor sitting next to him, their hands intertwined on the table top. Y/N had never met them personally before, only ever seen their social media accounts via Harry and heard stories, so when the group spotted the entering the pub, all their eyes lit up with excitement to finally see Harry’s girl.

Harry extracted his hand from Y/N’s, only to wind it around her waist and settle it on her opposite hip in a move he’d seen the other lads do with their girls numerous times. If Harry and Y/n were stood together, he’d usually just throw his arm around her shoulders, but that seemed a bit too platonic in the moment.

“Harry! Yeh made it, mate!” Louis shouted to be heard over the chatter in the pub and the music that was playing throughout the room. “Almost expected yeh to flake out on us again.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he helped Y/N slide into the booth next to Cheryl, who grinned happily at the extra female company. “Fuck off, Tommo. ‘M here, aren’t I?”

“And yeh brought your girl!” Liam shouted happily, leaning across his soon-to-be wife to get a better view of the woman Harry had walked in with. “I’m Liam, and this is me missus, Cheryl.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Y/N reciprocated with a smile as Harry slid in next to her. “I’m Y/N. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you, love,” Cheryl beamed, and Y/N was a little surprised by her Geordie accent. She knew enough about Liam and Louis, but she’d never really learned much about their partners.

The group settles into a comfortable conversation while sipping on pints. Y/N easily answers everyone’s questions, keeping everything truthful until they ask about how she and Harry got together. She honestly tells them that they met in class their first day of uni, but she knows Harry’s only been using the excuse that they’ve been dating for the last several months, so she explains that they’d been good mates for awhile until it just kind of blossomed into something more.

Harry had been prepared to jump in and manipulate the story a little bit if need be, but Y/N was handling it well on her own, so he slung an arm across her shoulder and sat back, listening to her tell the story of their fake relationship and watching his friends fall in love with her. He wasn’t surprised, honestly. He’d fallen in love with her within a few days of knowing her. He wasn’t really sure what type of love it was, though. He found her attractive, obviously—she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met—and he hung on just about every word she said, but she’d never shown any interest in him, so he’d kept his feelings platonic. He’d take loving her as a best friend any day over muddying their relationship with feelings that might not be reciprocated.

About two hours into their night, Liam suggested a game of darts since all the pool tables were occupied. The couples were put into teams, and Harry smirked, knowing Y/N and him were about to wipe the floor. He’d discovered in their first year that Y/N was extremely good at darts. She’d explained that her family had a dart board, and it had been a bit of an ongoing competition with her cousins over the years. Harry can’t recall a time when he’d seen her miss her target, even when she was right pissed.

They set the game up in elimination style, so the other two couples played against each other first. Before they began, Louis called out a bet, saying that whoever won overall wouldn’t pay for their drinks for the rest of the night, the tab to be picked up by the two losing teams. It wasn’t much, but it was enough encouragement to make it an actual competitions as opposed to six people just dicking around in a bar.

Harry and Y/N sat back as they watched the other teams due it out on the board. Y/N snickered when Cheryl tossed it and it stuck into the wall just above the board, a squeak emitting from her mouth.

“How do yeh think they’ll react when yeh go up there and throw ‘em perfectly?” Harry asked, leaning into her to mumble the words into her ear.

“Think they’ll be a little mad we hustled ‘em,” she chuckled.

Harry shrugged. “Their own damn faults for suggestin’ the game.

“Yeah, but they didn’t know I’ve basically been trainin’ my whole life for this moment,” she joked, bumping her hip into Harry’s.

He laughed and pulled her into him, their chests flush together. Y/N sighed at the warmth his body radiated to hers. He was always so cuddly and smelled so good that it was hard for her to refrain from pressing her nose into his neck and living there. Although, since the people around them thought they were dating, she couldn’t see why she couldn’t do just that. So, she pushed up onto her toes and buried her face into the juncture between his shoulder and neck, nuzzling her nose against his skin.

His grip around her shoulders tightened and she felt more than heard the chuckle bubbling in his chest. “What are yeh doin’, pet?”

“You’re warm,” she explained, winding her own arms around his waist, under his jumper. She thought he had a t-shirt on underneath, so she was a bit surprised when she made contact with bare skin, though she didn’t pull away. He really was warm, and she was basking in it a little bit. “And yeh smell really good.” He always smelled really good, but it wasn’t often that she was able to sample it straight from the source like that.

“How much have yeh had, yeh weirdo?” he teased her, but he just pulled her body closer to his. “Usually only get this cuddly when yeh’ve had a few.”

“Only the one,” she promised. “Can’t I just enjoy your warmth? Yeh know I’m always fucking freezing.” It was true. Something about poor circulation and a normally low blood pressure meant her hands and feet were always cold, and Harry was a perfect way to warm them up.

“Oi! Love birds,” Louis called, drawing their attention. “Li and Cheryl are shit, so it’s you and us. Get your arses over here.”

Harry and Y/N parted from their embrace and walked to join their new opponents. Y/N let Harry go first to lull Eleanor and Louis into a false sense of security. Harry wasn’t bad by any means, but he was just pretty average, kind of like how El was when she went right before him. Both racked up a decent amount of points, but Louis looked cocky as he stepped up and threw the darts. He got one bullseye, which had Liam, Cheryl and Eleanor cheering. Louis smirked over his shoulder at Y/N, like he was happy to know she was watching him beat her. Harry pursed his lips together to keep from smirking and giving away his confidence that he and Y/N were definitely about to kick their asses.

The rest of Louis’s darts were well-aimed, but none of them were as good as his first attempt. When he handed Y/N the darts after he’d retrieved them, he sent her a playfully competitive wink with a, “Good luck, love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes behind his back, and Harry chortled at her reaction.

“Yeh’ve got this, love,” Harry called out, sending his support and encouragement, even though he knew she didn’t really need it.

Y/N smirked at him with a slight lift of one brow, her silent way of saying, “I know I do. We’re about to win free drinks for the rest of the night.”

“Yeh can move up closer if yeh want, love,” Louis called out. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was trying to be helpful or taunting with his words. She’d noticed both Eleanor and Cheryl had stood about a half a meter in front of the mark that was set into the ground for the dartboard, but she knew she’d probably do some damage if she stood that close. She threw hard enough to make he darts into the little holes the first time.

“I’m good,” she assured without looking back at him. She squared herself up and took a dart in her right hand.

“Watch this,” Harry muttered to Liam, who had taken a place next to him when Y/N had vacated it.

Liam furrowed his brow at Harry’s comment, but turned to look quickly when he hear the thwack of the dart hitting the board. His jaw dropped when he say it sticking out of the center red mark of the board.

“Lucky shot,” Louis called out, though he sounded a little unsure of that. Harry shook his head with a little smile. Louis had always been really competitive, since he was usually the best at whatever game they were playing. He didn’t like to be shown up, and Harry could tell Y/N’s first bullseye was getting to his friend a bit. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when the next ones she threw were just as perfect.

“Can’t wait until you two have to buy the rest of me pints,” he continued, trying to sound more sure of himself.

Y/N barked out a laugh, and quickly threw the remaining two, sinking them into the board right beside the first one, all well within the red mark in the center. Y/N turned to see Louis’s mouth dropped open in shock, eyes trained on the three perfectly thrown darts still wiggling a bit in the board.

“I’ll take that pint now,” she announced.

The other girls cheered while Liam laughed at Louis’s put out face. Harry hopped off his stool and gathered her in a hug, lifting her a few centimeters off the floor. He laughed joyfully as she giggled at his boisterous reaction. He knew she was going to kick their asses, but he was still giddy about watching it happen.

“I could kiss you right now!” he exclaimed, still laughing and spinning her slowly. He was so impressed by her and he really liked that she’d put Louis in his place so effortlessly. It was a beautiful thing, really, seeing her take him down a few pegs so easily.

Without thinking, he brought her down and pressed his lips to hers, capturing her bottom lip between both of his. He hummed as his eye dropped closed, feeling her soft mouth against his slightly chapped ones.

Y/N’s eyes widened at first at the sudden kiss, taken aback by the ease with which he did it. They’d never kissed before, aside from quick pecks to the cheeks and forehead. She’d always wondered what his berry pink lips would feel like against hers, and she was pleased that they were so warm and plush. She dropped her eyes closed quickly, only now remembering that they were surrounded by people that thought they’d been dating for months, now. It would be weird if they saw anything amiss with this kiss.

Their lips parted and met again quickly, slotting them even closer together than the first time. Y/N whimpered slightly when the tip of Harry’s tongue drug lightly against her bottom lip. Harry knew that meant it was time to disengage, though, not wanting to get into anything in a crowded pub with his mates watching them.

Harry pulled back, his hands cradling her head, and he hadn’t realized he’d moved them from her waist at any point. His breathing was stilted, grappling for breath but also at a loss for it at the same time. Y/N eyes bore into his as they looked at each other, her lips parted slightly as she seemed to try to regain her own breath.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, so only her and Harry would hear. What had they just done? That was no pretend kiss to appease any onlookers. That was genuine and real and had a lot of emotions she hadn’t really knew were there between them. She’d always had a crush of sorts on Harry, but she never thought it’d been reciprocated.

“Don’t run away,” he urged, stooping to press their foreheads together. “We’ll talk about this, yeah? Just don’t run from me, pet.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Okay, Harry.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles request #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles blurb

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ktrsss1fics · 7 years ago

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I love that you want to write Fergie and Niall drabbles! Can you please write about Fergie really struggling with her work load and being quite stressed and how Niall tries intervenes because he cares about her and is worried!

Georgina was swamped. Her co-worker Debra decided to go on maternity leave a month earlier than planned. All the cases she was currently assigned to had to be given to other people. Instead of distributing her work amongst the team evenly, they were all given to Georgina. She was the fastest worker and the only member on the team that worked well under pressure.

This meant that she was going to be logging more hours than necessary. This also meant her social life was going to take a massive hit.

She had already missed two movie nights, a group dinner at her favorite sushi place, and a girls luncheon at Jenna’s flat. She was currently bailing on fight night at Keith’s, which she wasn’t too torn up about.

But a certain someone was offended that she wouldn’t be making an appearance.

He’d already called twice. He was in town for a bit and hadn’t seen her yet. After the third call, she picked up.

“You’re on speakerphone Horan.” She called out leaving her phone on the coffee table in front of her.

“You goin’ over to Keith’s, Fergie?” His thick accent caught her off guard. She hadn’t heard it in a while.

“Not tonight.” Georgina sighed. “I’ve got too much stuff to do for work.”

“Oh.” Niall said sounding disappointed.

“I know.” She replied focusing on a file on her laptop screen. “Not a big fan of Debra at the moment.”

“What’d she do now?” He asked smiling at the sass in her voice.

“Had un protected sex with her fella seven months ago.” Georgina grumbled.

“I thought she wasn’t goin’ on leave until next month.” He said confused.

“So did everyone else.” She said. “I guess she wanted to surprise us all. Being the great bosses they are, Kath and Kim have given me all her cases on top of my full load.”

“Well that’s bull shit.” He said.

“Tell me about it.” Georgina sighed.

“You have dinner yet?” Niall asked.

“Nope. Don’t have time for it.” She said highlighting a line from the printout on her lap. “I have too much to do.”

“That’s not–” He started to say but she interrupted him.

“Not healthy. I know but I’ll grab a snack or something.” She said quickly.

“Fergie–” Niall said.

“I’m fine. I promise.” She said looking at the clock on the screen. “You’re gonna be late if you don’t leave now.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” Niall sighed into the phone.

“You’d have to ask me mother.” Georgina shot back. “Anyways, have fun tonight Horan. Don’t get too drunk.”

“Alright Fergie. Hope you get everything done.” He said before hanging up the phone.

As soon as the call ended, it was back to work. She was scanning documents, highlighting paperwork, and creating folders to send to the lawyers at the firm. She was so busy she hadn’t realized someone was at her door. When the doorbell rang a second time, she got up from her makeshift office on the couch and answered it. Standing with a backpack and two bags of take away was a person she didn’t expect to see.

“What are you doing here Horan?” She asked inviting him inside.

“Grabbed some take away from Molly’s and figured you could use some help.” He shrugged heading towards her kitchen.

“Really?” Georgina asked, surprised he’d be willing to help her out.

“Yeah. Brought me laptop and figured if you used both you’d get done faster.” He said placing the food on the counter.

He grabbed some plates from the cupboard. “And you not eating dinner is unacceptable so I got you a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and a side order of fries just in case you wanted those instead.”

Georgina just watched him in shock. No one had ever done this before. No one had ever offered to help when she was stressed out. No one had brought her food because they were concerned that she hadn’t eaten. No one cared that much.

She was impressed. Niall was very sweet.

“Horan…” She paused.

“Before you go bitchin’ and complainin’, I know what it’s like to be so stressed it’s overwhelming so just let me help.” He said looking up at her. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She blushed heading into the kitchen to help him out.

“Do you wanna eat in here?” He asked grabbing two bottles of beer from the fridge. “Or do we need to go back in there?”

“We can take a quick break to eat.” She said taking their plates to the table.

“Good.” He said cracking open their bottles.

Niall took a seat beside her and got ready to eat the biggest hamburger she’d ever seen. He ripped open a bag and dumped the fries and rings on top for them to share. He handed over a bottle and started eating.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Georgina said trying to break the silence that had formed.

“I used to wear them for fun but I actually need them now.” He laughed. “Sad right?”

“They look good.” She smiled. “They make you look older – smarter even. ”

“And sexier. I know.” Niall wiggled his eyebrows making her laugh.

“Thanks for getting this.” She said between bites. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“No problem.” He said pressing the bottle of beer to his lips.

“You were fine with missing the fight?” She asked grabbing a handful of rings.

Niall nodded as he swallowed his drink.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be a good one?” Georgina asked nibbling on a ring.

“Yeah but you needed help. There will be more fights.” He shrugged.

“You are the only person who has ever offered to help me when this kind of thing happens.” Georgina admitted. “Not even Britt has offered.”

“Well I don’t like to see my friends suffer. I know what it’s like to have to work more hours than humanly possible and what kind of toll it takes on a person.” He said focusing on his burger. “I didn’t want to see it happen to you.”

“Well I really appreciate it.” Georgina said awkwardly. “You caring n all that.”

“So what am I going to be doing?” He asked trying to change the subject.

“I think I’ll have you scan documents. They are already labeled. You just have to put them in folders so I can email them.” She explained. “You don’t mind using your computer?”

“Wouldn’t have brought it if I did.” He smiled.

“Brilliant.” She said before washing down a few bites of her burger.

Georgina and Niall worked well past midnight. They went through two films on FXM and a little bit of a Friends rerun. Their eyes were dry from staring at the screen too long and a small headache had began form in the young woman’s brain. Niall laid on the floor while she put the finishing touches on a few of the folders.

“You have to do this for every case the firm takes on?” He asked interested.

“Yep. Every single case.” She said keeping her eyes on the screen.

“And it doesn’t get boring?” Niall asked.

“S'get boring writing new songs?” She asked glancing over at him.

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“It’s like the same thing.” She said letting a yawn slip out. “Each case is a new song.”

“When you graduated from uni, did you see yourself doing this?” He asked fighting back the urge to yawn.

“Kinda but not really. I knew I wanted to help people.” Georgina explained. “I give the lawyers the info they need to try to win. They just have to put it all together. And we all hope for a good result. Without me, they work too much and don’t have a chance to focus on the facts of the case at hand.”

Niall smiled. “That’s a good way to look at it I suppose.”

“Most people find it boring.” She shrugged. “I think I’m perfect for the job.”

“You’re not boring.” He yawned.

“Well thanks but I was meaning that I like research and I’m really organized.” She said. “That’s why I always get the extra work.”

“If you uh ever need help and I’m in town, don’t be afraid to ask.” Niall offered.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She said before looking at the clock. “Oh wow, its late.”

“Are you done?” Niall asked sitting up.

“Just need this one to save and then I am done. You can go if you want.” She said shyly. “I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t want you to be too tired to drive home.”

“I don’t live that far, Ferg.” He laughed.

“Yeah but its late and crazy people could be on the road and I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt.” She rambled on. “All of your fans would find out and then I’d be a dead woman.”

“Are you actually caring for another person, Fergie Ferg?” He gasped.

She chucked a pillow at his head. “It’s only because I’m exhausted and you were nice enough to bring me onion rings.”

“Good to know.” He said getting to his feet.

“Thank you again for dinner and for all the help. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.” She said with a sincere smile.

Niall ran his hand through his hair. “I actually learned quite a bit. And I uh mean what I said. If you ever need help, let me know and I’ll be there.”

Georgina just smiled as he started to pack up his things. Once the files were saved, she closed her laptop and grabbed her phone ready to call it a night. The pair headed to the door in silence.

“Well it’s been fun, love.” Niall said pulling her into a bear hug. She rested her head on his chest as he held her tight. “I hope you don’t have to go in tomorrow.”

“I get to go in late.” She yawned into his chest.

“Call in sick.” He yawned back.

“I wish I could.” She said as he let her go.

“I could get ya a doctor’s note.” Niall said with a cheeky grin. “I know a guy.”

“Keith’s roommate said he was gonna stop doing it for us.” Georgina laughed.

“He said he was gonna stop helping Keith because Keith fucked up. He still likes me.” Niall said proudly.

“Everyone likes you Mr. Ego.” She teased.

Niall rolled his eyes dramatically before turning around to head for the door.

“Text me when you get home.” She said instinctively.

“Oh yeah, why?” He asked.

Georgina shoved him playfully, “So I know you made it back alive.”

Niall smirked as he opened the door “Uh huh sure.”

“Get out of me house, ya pervert.” She said making him laugh.

#cip #fergie and niall #send me questions about fergie and niall

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jentrevellan · 8 years ago

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Summary: A modern AU setting of Thedas! … Lyla Lavellan is heading to Skyhold University, after dropping out of her previous uni. A distance relationship with her boyfriend Solas in Denerim is put under strain but she soon becomes fast friends with her new housemates, classmates and work colleagues, including uni drop-out Cullen Rutherford.

Read on Ao3 -> Read on FF -> Artwork by @lillotte17

Chapter 6: Cullen

I think I can smell bacon.

Oh Maker, please can that be bacon? My head is so heavy and fuzzy, I'm not certain. I know that opening my eyes will be painful and bright. Bright is not a good feeling. I just want to sleep.

But bacon…

I try to open my eyes but they're heavy and crusted with sleep. There's something dangling above my face (I think, anyway), but it's blurred. I scrunch my eyes tight then ping them open in a desperate attempt to wake up. But… am I still dreaming? Lyla is standing over me, that little pendant dangling before my eyes. She smiles a wide grin.

"Afternoon, Cullen," she chuckles.

I blink slowly, her blurred features sharpening as I come to realise that I'm not dreaming. She is standing above me, crossing her arms, an amused smile playing on her lips. And, oh Maker, I've just realised that I've missed her. I scold myself silently - she's only been gone for two days. But then I remember that she's been with her boyfriend, and my gut churns uncomfortably at the thought. I rub my head - perhaps my stomach is churning because I am, admittedly, hanging.

"I'm making some bacon sandwiches, if you would like one…?" she asks, smothering a laugh as I try to sit up on the sofa. Despite how gross and groggy I'm feeling, I'm not afraid to admit to myself that my mood has been greatly lifted by having her wake me up.

"Bacon sandwich?" I repeat, my voice scratchy and painful.

Lyla nods and chuckles. "I assume that's a 'yes'. Well, stay here and I'll make one for you too." She practically skips out of the room and I frown, flopping back down on the sofa, wanting to fall back into the Fade, but the promise of a bacon sandwich is too tempting.

The living room door opens again and this time Cassandra shuffles in, still in her pyjamas, a thick, furry dressing gown wrapped around her. She mutters "Mornin'" to me before curling up on the other sofa.

"Pretty sure it's the afternoon," I rasp, rubbing my forehead.

Minutes later, Dorian enters slowly, his feet dragging in his slippers, a purple blanket pulled up over his head so only his face is exposed. He sits himself down next to Cassandra who tucks her knees up, raising her voice to protest only to give up.

"How… how much did we drink?" I wonder aloud.

"Too much," Cassandra grumbles, pulling her dressing gown up to her chin, crossing her arms as tight as possible.

"You're both lightweights," Dorian says flatly, staring at the wall opposite, his face glazed.

Lyla pushes the living room door open with her hip, balancing three plates of bacon sandwiches in her hands. She stops in her tracks when she sees us three and bursts out laughing. If it wasn't at my expense, then I would think her light little laugh charming and sweet, but my head doesn't agree right now. It feels so heavy. It hurts.

"Oh you three are a sight," she laughs. "You're luck Sera didn't find you like this. Here - eat these sarnies."

She hands out a plate to each of us and I wolf my sandwich down as quickly as possible, grateful for the extra-crispy bacon. Never in my life has a bacon sandwich tasted so good.

"This bacon sandwich is Maker-sent," I mumble between mouthfuls.

She perches on the edge of the same sofa as me, watching us devour her bacon sandwiches. "If you think these are good, you should taste my apple pie," she smiles, then looks horrified, her face turning red. Dorian bursts into laughter. "N-not like t-that!" she says hurriedly, tugging her hair behind her ears. I smile at her discomfort, finding it rather endearing to see such a reaction from her accidental innuendo.

I feel Dorian's eyes on me which I refuse to meet. When I glance up, I see Cassandra and Dorian exchange a sly look and I resist the urge to snap at them. Maker's breath, could they at least be a bit more subtle?

The Santilia celebration with them both had been fun, but now that the bacon sandwich is doing its work of sobering me up, I'm remembering more of the previous day than I would like. It had started as normal; exchanging small gifts with one another and the like, but then the drinking had begun. I like to think I an hold my drink as well as the next man, but Dorian's Tevinter resilience is something to be admired in comparison. Without a doubt he drank twice as much and was sober enough to probe enough questions out of me that I should not have answered.

Then Dorian had suggested playing the teenage game of 'truth or dare'. Admittedly, after many glasses of sherry, beer and wine, it seemed like a fun idea. Oh yes, fun indeed.

"Alright Cullen, your turn - Truth or Dare?" Cassandra said in between a sip of beer.

I sat cross-legged on the floor and rubbed my back, where my previous 'dare' of doing a backflip off the sofa had gone horribly wrong.

"Think it would be safer if I say 'Truth'," I grinned, taking swig of beer.

Cassandra pursed her lips before looking at Dorian. A wicked smile - one I have never known Cassandra to do - crossed her face.

"How do you feel about Lyla?"

I remember taking a deep gulp of my beer before answering her question. "Do I have to tell the truth?"

"Yes," Dorian and Cassandra said in unison.

What had I been thinking? Well, I guess I hadn't been thinking. Like the good, honest man I am, I gave them the truth.

"I'm falling in love with her," I said, unashamed. "Next?"

But when I looked up, I realised what I had said. And I had said it so casually that I'm still not sure how I managed it. I hadn't even admitted that to myself. Dorian and Cassandra had stared at me, mouths open, like they were catching flies. Needless to say, they did not let me live it down for the rest of the evening, so I had decided the best course of action would be to drink so much I would pass out and forget the whole thing. I did pass out, but I can, sadly, still remember everything. Maker's breath…

Sometime after eating, I think we all dozed off. This time when I wake, I feel a bit more human: head not as heavy, eyes not so crusty, nausea fading. I peer around the room, noting the looping DVD menu for the film we'd put on earlier. Dorian is sprawled out on the adjacent sofa, mouth open, Cassandra nowhere in sight. To my left, my chest tightens at the sight of Lyla, legs tucked up, head on the armrest, fast asleep. I turn slowly and reach for a blanket and carefully drape it over her. She stirs in her sleep but does not wake, and reluctantly I back out of the living room.

I should not be here. I should not torture myself in this way. And yet my mind, now much more awake than it was before, is all too aware that she had fallen asleep on the sofa next to me. Maker, for all I know, she could've fallen asleep on me. That thought fills me with shameless delight and dread. I cannot think this way, about her. But there's some part of me that wants to take these small pleasures, these little instances and coincidences. Is that really so wrong?

Voices behind the closed kitchen door make me pause as I pull on my shoes. I'm not usually one to eaves drop, but then this house never usually has closed doors. I shuffle as silently as possible and recognise Cassandra's voice.

"…t do you mean?"

Sera replies, her voice low and quiet. "I dunno. There's somethin' goin' on, right? And it's… it's not good."

"With Lyla?" Cassandra whispers. I lean in closer, almost pressing my ear to the door.

"Ah. I dunno, alright?" Sera sighs in frustration. "It's just… right, when she picked me up in Denerim yeah, she'd come from Solas' place."

"Well of course she had. She was having Satinalia there."

"I know that! But… when she was drivin', yeah, I saw her wrists. Cassy, she had bruises. I swear, if it's that prat who's-"

"Wait, Sera, wait. I know Solas isn't exactly… likeable, but if you're saying what I think you're saying-"

"I dunno alright! Sorry I said anythin' yeah."

Sera pulls the door open and stops in her tracks. She blinks then pushes past me, muttering under her breath. She runs up the stairs, taking two at a time and moments later I hear her bedroom door slam shut. Cassandra raises an eyebrow at me.

"Were you eavesdropping, Cullen?" she asks wearily.

"I…" Rubbing the back of my neck, I glance at the closed living room door. "What was Sera on about?"

The Nevarran woman sighs in exasperation. "Sera's just speculating. It's none of our business. Anyway, glad to see you're awake."

"Cassandra, what I said-"

"Cullen, I'm far too tired and hungover to care. But know this - I won't say a word." She pats my arms and walks past me up the stairs.

I let out a breath, and lean against the wall. It's only now that I think to check my phone. And there are… wait, how many missed calls? Alarmed I listen to my voice mail from Leliana.

"Cullen, where the hell are you? You're meant to be working! Call me as soon as you can."

Another message follows. "Cullen, you're making us worried. I can't get hold of Cassandra either. Please call us back."

Oh, shit.

I run into the living room and scan the room for my satchel. Lyla stirs as I accidentally knock her knee. She blinks up wearily at me. "You okay?"

"Fine," I mutter, rummaging around for my wallet. Shit, shit, shit! How could I forget that I offered to work at the pub?

Lyla sits up, pulling her hair out her eyes. "What is it?"

"Forgot I'm meant to be at work," I grumble, angry at my own stupidity. Maker forbid I relax and enjoy myself for more than a day, oh no.

"Let me give you a lift," Lyla says, jumping to her feet.

My chest swells again. I should decline, I should insist that I get a bus, or run into town. But I find myself accepting her offer, following her out of the house, getting into the passenger seat of her freezing car. We say little to each other and I realise I haven't even asked about her own Santilia.

"Did you have a nice time in Denerim?" I enquire, as we sit at some traffic lights.

Instantly, she visibly stiffens, clutching the steering wheel tight. I can't help but think back to what I'd heard Sera say earlier. Out of curiosity, feeling ashamed as I do so, I peer to see her wrists, but her jumper is pulled up and she's wearing gloves. I scold myself - it's none of my business.

"It was fine," she says tightly.

"Fine?" I repeat.

"Yes," she says bluntly.

I know I should drop the subject, but I can't. There's something niggling at me, wanting to pry a little more.

"I…" Hesitating, I rub my neck. "We're friends, aren't we Lyla?"

Her eyes flick to me before she nods.

"So, what's up? Has something happened?" I ask.

She sighs and keeps on driving through the quiet streets of Skyton. "I don't know, Cullen. I don't think things are great right now between Solas and I… but I don't know."

I shift in my seat. "We can talk about it if you like…?"

A small smile tugs her lips. "Thank you, but I'm okay.. really," she insists at my raised eyebrow. I drop the subject and look out the window. "Besides," she continues, "I don't want to bore you with my problems."

"You could never bore me," I grin, foolishly.

She laughs. "You're only saying that because I'm driving you to work! How did you manage to forget, anyway? Leliana's going to skin you alive."

"Ah, well trust me to have more than two days off work. Knew it was too good to be true." I sigh. "I guess, for the first time in months, I was able to relax and not have any of my headaches."

"Headaches?" Lyla asks, frowning.

Oh crap, did I let that slip? "I…" damnit, I don't want her to know about that, about my past, any of it!

"Cullen," she says slowly. "Trust and friendship goes both ways, you know."

"Alright… but… It's just… Lyla: I'm a bit messed up and would understand if… if you didn't want to be my friend-"

"I'm not going to stop being your friend."

"You say that now," I try and joke, but I can't quite find the heart to laugh about it. She shoots me a look and I rub the back of my neck. "Well, I… get really bad migraines. And I tend to keep busy to distract myself."

"That can't be healthy…"

I sigh. "Yeah… well it's because I was in… in Kirkwall," I say quickly, looking at anywhere but her.

A low whistle. "Shit, Cullen."

"Yeah, I know."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay, honestly."

"No, but I pushed you and-"

"No! No, you could never have known, I-"

We talk over each other and then stop. I grin and she laughs. And it's funny because the rest of the drive is us just laughing. I'm not sure why but we can't stop and Maker's breath, is it refreshing.

She pulls up outside the pub and cuts the engine. I peer up at the bar and look back at her, our laughter fading, my chest feeling light. But there are tears in her eyes.

"Lyla, what is it?" I ask. It takes all my control to not reach over and touch her hand on the hand-break. Not to reach out and comfort her. Those are not tears of laughter.

She wipes her eyes furiously. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I… I just haven't laughed like that in a long time."

I smile weakly. "That's nothing to cry about though, is it?"

A teary little laugh and a smile. She tilts her head to the side. "Cullen?"

"Mm?" I reply. She's close. Far too close. I can smell her perfume. It's sweet, light and cool. I think something passes between us as I meet her eyes. They are bright, green and full of teary laughter. I want to fall into them. I dare not.

"Um, you should, ah…" she begins, looking down at her spread hands. "Leliana's going to kill you if you stay out here any longer."

I nod and smile. I pretend that whatever just happened, didn't happen. She's a friend, nothing more. Perhaps she will be a good friend, one I can trust; one who I want to be happy. But she's a friend I know I'm… coming to love; and as I step out the car and wave to her as she drives off, I know I'm in too deep, and this is going to hurt. And yet, I'm reluctant to let that stop me from wishing.

AN: I'm sorry this chapter is late! Life has been mad as I quit my job. Yikes! Anyway, next update will be next week so we'll be back on schedule. Thank you for reading! Your comments, likes and reblogs keep me so, so motivated. ^^

#Serendipity #my fanfic #modern au #my da #my dragon age #cullen x lavellan #lyla lavellan #Cullen Rutherford #dragon age fanfiction #da fanfic

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alegendarystudentwonderland-blog · 6 years ago

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