#she’s so gone is the best song but i couldn’t include it in any playlist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

next chapter

want to be tagged?(please say it's for red)

tag list and some friends: @noorrussell @nocturnalms @xxconfettiitsaparade @annathesillyfriend @butterflies-glitter @tomkindholland @the-salty-asian @words-to-accomplish-something @harryhollandsgirlfriend @bibliophilewednesday @tomhollandsbitch8 @boiolay @wizkiddx @spideyssunshine @parkertommy @erodasghosts @onewithnomightypowers @sunflowersandaydreams @tomshufflepuff @uglypastels @lilacsandwhiskey @badhollandfluff @saintlavrents @enilemes @white-wolf1940 @mannien @softholand @youcompletemesk @ughdangs@obiwanownsmyass @sleepingdancer @lonely-sag @n-pg-pw @readheadwriter @parkersroses @petesrparker

#tom holland #red fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagines #tom holland angst #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland writing #tom holland reader #peter parker

145 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 4 years

Text

The ABC’s of Ezra (Prospect)

I am absolutely terrified to post this, first of all. But @the-blind-assassin-12 has been absolutely enabling me the entire time that I’ve been working on it.

It’s long. It’s explicit. It’s thorough. It’s Ezra. The emotions that I feel for this man are overwhelming, and I wanted to do right by him and expand his backstory and my take on the character before I even begin to work on the accompanying story ... but this is the Ezra you’ll get to know when you read the series “Starlight” that I’m working on currently. Please enjoy. Start to fall in love with him the same way I did the first time I saw his smirk through that suit’s helmet, or the first time Reader did when she watched him take the podium in her lecture.

You won’t regret it.

** I’m working on a playlist that will accompany this and Starlight. Look for it within the next couple days. ** (always accepting songs to add. Just let me know if you have any suggestions!)

Rating: NSFW. This is not for anyone under 18.

Pairing: Ezra x Reader-insert character (Starlight Universe; female)

Word Count: 12,892 (And I won’t apologize for a single one of them.)

Author’s Note: A lot of these will be two part answers - before the Green Moon, and after the time Ezra spent away from his ‘home’ planet.

I HC that while he isn’t from the Ephrate, that’s where he spent the majority of his adult life - and where he met you, at a university on-planet… so he considers it home, and it was always his goal to return when he was done with his prospecting years.

I know that after reading this, you’ll probably have a lot more questions about my version of Ezra that weren’t answered here - hopefully, I’ll be able to answer them moving forward. Send away if you want to know!

Most of these tend to lean on the highly smutty side, but there are a few that include much more generalized personality traits.

(shitty blonde streak editing and enhancement done to this picture by me, myself and I)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Just looking at him, you’d think that Ezra wouldn’t like hanging around after sex, but the exact opposite is true.

Ezra loves to lay with you. Sometimes, he’ll wrap an arm around you,lips traveling over any area of exposed skin he can find with them. He’s partial to your shoulders, no matter whether he’s got his chest pressed to your back, or you’re facing each other. Ezra’s a very tactile man, and loves to keep the connection going even after the actual act is done. You quickly learned that for him, sex was not the most important aspect of the relationship, even though it was one of his favorites.

One of the things that kept you company - even while he was gone - was the memory of the hours you spent in bed together; day or night, winter or summer - with him right there, skin warm against yours, the sheets tinged with the scent of the two of you together and the sound of your voices mixing together as you spoke.

But it wasn’t just the man’s lingering presence that you enjoyed, it was the things you talked about after sex that made you realize that you loved him. He’d take care of you, and then ensure that the two of you were cleaned up “to his satisfaction” (the line always delivered with a smirk and one raised eyebrow) and then you’d lay with each other until you fell asleep, talking about everything but your relationship. He wanted to learn about you - and wanted you to learn about him, to find out about the things that you had in common, and even though he tried to hide it a lot of the time, Ezra was downright vulnerable in bed, and unafraid to show that side of himself to you, even after he returned home for the last time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ezra’s favorite thing about himself is the way he thinks, so… his mind. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. Does that sound conceited? Yes. Does he care? No.

Education is appealing to him - he likes knowing things. He likes knowing that he’s the smartest person in the room (as long as you’re not there) and knowing that if there’s an answer for it (whatever it is)… he can find it. And he will. Education - being capable and understanding things - was always the most important task to him, even growing up, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to learn for granted. He retains information very well - and not just academic information, either. He knows what to look for when it comes to your body, what each facial expression you make means, what you’re going to do when you put your hands on him… and even sometimes before, too.

His favorite part of you? Your mouth. Specifically, your lips and the way they look when you’re smiling at him. You could be smiling at anyone, saying their name, teeth digging into the corner of your lip while you listen to them … and yet you’re choosing to look at him.

He remembers the way they felt the first time you kissed him, remembers the way they moved the first time you told him that you loved him, and the way that they parted - your jaw dropping as you saw him standing in front of you all those years later is burned into his brain forever. And he also doesn’t mind one bit when they’re wrapped around him or exploring the scarred skin of his body, giving every inch of him the attention that he deserves - and everything that he craved while stranded on The Green Moon.

(No one asked for this but I’m also going to talk about what your favorite part of him is)

It’s his eyes, and the way they catch the light. The way that you can see him in them, even when he’s looking at or talking to someone else. It’s the way that no matter how hard he tries to keep his expression even, he can’t keep the emotion out of his eyes - so dark and emotivr that it’s hard to believe they’re natural. You always know whether or not he’s lying based on the look in them, and it was one of the first things you told him that truly surprised him. Why?

Ezra’s a smooth talker - and because he’s so used to being able to talk his way into and out of everything, people are much more focused on what he’s saying than how he looks or what he’s doing while he’s saying it - and that’s what he counts on. He isn’t used to people taking him seriously right off the bat, or paying close attention to anything but what they hear - and Kevva knows that it scared the shit out of you to be so bold with him, especially when you didn’t know him well.

But you did. And it earned you his respect immediately. So whenever Ezra has something important to tell you, he does so while looking directly at you. He doesn’t give a fuck what other people see or think, but he needs you to know that he’s telling you the truth - or at least as much of the truth as he can.

You’re also very partial to the streak of blonde in his hair; and when you’re relaxing with him, your fingers - particularly your thumb - always seem to find it. In fact, when you saw him again, it was what convinced you that it was actually him in the first place, and not your mind playing tricks on you with a lookalike (as if there could be anyone else in the galaxy that looked like Ezra.

… and, you love his hands. Both of them, one of them - doesn’t matter, because you know that as long as it’s possible, when they’re on your body? Ezra’s going to use them well.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When you first started seeing (and sleeping with) Ezra, things weren’t messy, because you used protection. If you ask him, Ezra liked those days a lot, because it meant that as soon as you finished, the two of you could stay in bed instead of one or both of you needing to get up and head into the bathroom. You were both “safe”, choosing to rely on the implant provided to all students at the University if they asked for it, but since there was no expectation of a long term relationship when you went to bed together, you opted for an additional safeguard in the beginning - at Ezra’s suggestion.

‘I do believe that it would be in both of our best interests to…” He trailed off, gesturing to the on-campus pharmacy. “... ensure a certain level of additional protection.”

“You don’t trust me?” His eyebrows shot up, a look of worry filling his eyes. “No, you know what? That shouldn’t even be my first question to you, Ezra.” You chewed on your lip, fighting back a grin. It was usually you urging your partners in that direction, and Ezra’s solution had been a surprise. “What makes you think that we’re going to end up in bed together? Why would we need -”

He stepped closer, reaching up with his hand - the one that had the tattoo inked into the webbing between his thumb and first finger - to brush the hair away from your brow, eyes never leaving yours. “You will need to learn something about me.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, leaning in. “I am always prepared. And with you?” He paused, the sunlight turning his eyes into molten amber; flecks of gold visible in their depths. “It is an ineluctable fact that your bed is where I want to end up. I’m just … getting to the point.”

But later, after you’d been together for long enough to truly trust the implants and their success rate, that wasn’t the case anymore. While neither of you have an issue or any real complaints about remaining in bed, damp and sticky against the sheets when you’ve finished with each other, Ezra relishes the time he gets to spend eyeing every inch of you, running a damp cloth over your skin or between your legs - and enjoys when you clean him up just as much.

However. The times you use your mouth to do so? Ezra’s eyes roll back, and he thanks Kevva over and over the entire time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ezra’s secret is the same both before and after the Green, and while he thinks about it often, it’s most prevalently on his mind when you’re laying next to him, hair spread out on the pillows in the low light. He doesn’t believe he’s good enough for you. Before, it was because he couldn’t provide for you in a way that he believes he should be able to, but after? It’s because without his arm, this is still the case - but it’s coupled with the memories of everything he did on the Green - and why he did it. Technically, this has nothing to do with sex… and yet everything to do with sex at the same time. There’s nothing that makes him feel better - more alive, more present than being with you physically, seeing and feeling your hands on each other … and yet it’s tainted in a way that he can’t explain. As much as Ezra talks out loud, he gets lost in his head, too, and when that happens? It’s hard to bring himself back.

He wanted to do right by you, and after taking the opportunity - going to the Green, spending years apart from you and then coming back and finding you again, part of him thinks that it was the wrong call. And yet he still can’t tell himself no when you give him that smile or say his name quietly, the a catching on your lips and making his heart thump in his chest in a way that it never has for anyone else before.

And he hates himself for being so weak. For all of the terrible things that Ezra’s done in his life - all of the strength he showed while prospecting, all of his common sense, all of his experience? When it comes to you (and, in a way, to Cee) he feels as weak and helpless as he did the moment he realized he’d need to lose an arm to have any hope of surviving.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ezra’s had his fair share of partners, but only one or two of them were actual relationships. There was the experimentation as a teenager - kisses shared behind closed doors, hands fumbling with clothing (over and beneath it), promises made … the usual.

But after leaving home to go to school, Ezra really hit his stride with women. He always considered himself average - average height, average build, average looks - but it didn’t take him long to realize that that wasn’t what others saw him as - and he’s made the most of it. Learning is important to Ezra, and that doesn’t just mean when it comes to books or artifacts. He focused on studying, focused on getting an education so that he could get a good job after graduating, but he always made time for extracurricular activity, and had plenty of partners to choose from.

With women from all over the galaxy, Ezra was a willing student, patient and focused, taking mental notes - showing off what he’d learned previously and finding the best possible uses for his knowledge. He likes to show off, likes to boast about what he’s learned in the past… and opportunities for practical use of his bedroom skills? He’ll take them.

But don’t confuse his eagerness to learn with him being sleazy; he respected every partner he ever had, and never made them feel like he was using them or didn’t appreciate them when he was with them. Ezra doesn’t like making promises that he can’t keep, and that extends even to one night stands.

The more he knew and learned, the better, but that all stopped the first time he took you to bed, because he quickly realized that there was little - if anything - that could be better than what you’d showed him. It wasn’t you that asked him to stay for the first time - it was him making the request of you, and as the words - haltingly - came out of his mouth, his fingertips moving slowly over your brow and temple as he faced you in bed, he knew that he was absolutely fucked in every sense of the word.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As with everything else, Ezra likes to prolong sex. This means finding ways to ensure that when the two of you are together, it lasts.

Both before and after the Green, he likes you on top; likes to see what you’re doing, and let you control the pace. Whether you’re kneeling and in an upright position so that he can reach out and touch you, or you’re leaning forward, chests pressed together as you hold onto his shoulders or grip the pillows, this is a favorite for him. This position is much easier for him with one arm, too, since it doesn’t require balance or him supporting himself above you.

Another favorite position for both of you also allows him to give you what you need without the risk of him toppling over. Even though he likes to look at you, you and Ezra have a lot of lazy, slow sex, both of you laying on your sides. Your back pressed to his chest, one leg raised, your foot resting on his ankle to open yourself up to him just enough - he loves it, because you give him the freedom to set the pace, even if he can’t move as deeply within you as he could from another angle.

Ezra likes holding you close - and this allows him to do just that; an arm wrapped tightly around your body, hand on your chest, or his fingers working their magic where you need him most. He can feel the sounds you make from his angle, every inch of your body responding to his touch or his words, and this gives him another opportunity to put his mouth on the skin of your shoulders - as well as easy access to your ear, should he choose to talk. (And he does… but you do, too.) The first time you were together in this position after he came home was also the first time he made an outright joke about losing his arm. For anyone else, it would have ruined the moment, but coming from him? You knew that it was his way of telling you that it was OK to talk about it, that he knew that it was changing the way you were when you were in bed together, but that it was something you’d both have to get used to. What did he say? “I have had an epiphany, just now.” He paused, nuzzling his face into your shoulder from behind, forehead pressed to the back of your neck. “I don’t have to worry about the arm underneath us going numb, no matter how long we remain in this position.”

There was another pause - and then Ezra kissed your shoulder, lips lingering. You didn’t know how to reply, but with shock, realized that you could feel his smile against your skin, though you couldn’t see it. Before you made your choice, you heard him speak again, voice low. “It’s perfectly alright to laugh with me about it, Starlight. I don’t mind.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A lot of people consider Ezra goofy as it is. The way he speaks, the exaggerated movement of his hands and arms, the way that he stands - one hip popped, head cocked to the side … it’s what they see, so they believe that that’s what he is. And he’s worked hard to establish his personality, but there’s so much more to Ezra than 90% of the world sees.

His family is small - the only ones left alive are his brother and sister-in-law, and you’ve met them multiple times - before, during and after Ezra’s time away. With the three of you, and a few select other people, he’s free to be entirely himself - but the most open Ezra is is when it’s just the two of you.

When he’s in bed with you, it fluctuates between serious and relaxed, depending on the circumstances that led up to the two of you in that position. There are times when he is absolutely, positively laser focused on you and getting his hands and mouth on you, but there are just as many times as him joking around with you while you’re watching movies or listening to music, or just hanging around the house has led to more. And you love both sides of him, but you like casual, relaxed Ezra much more… and he knows it. Of course, since Ezra’s vocabulary is a lot different than the other people you’ve been to bed with, there are a lot of times when he sounds serious, and he’s not trying to - but you definitely don’t mind that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The first time you saw Ezra, he was dressed to impress - but you very quickly realized that that wasn’t typical for him. Hair styled - slightly longer than most of the other men in your lecture, or the other students - but that bright blonde streak? Everything stood out to you, that included. You wanted to know what it felt like to run your fingers through his hair; even combed back, you could tell that it was soft, the ends curling slightly over the back of his neck.

But you’d noticed that you weren’t the only one intrigued by him - hanging on the words he said as he described the history of a faraway planet - the one he’d focused his entire educational career on - and its eventual downfall, leading to humans scattering throughout the stars. No, most of the other women in the room were of the same mindset as you, along with some of the men, too.

You’d made eye contact with him on your way out of the lecture hall, Ezra’s eyes widening, cheeks going round as he offered you a smile that you knew you wouldn’t forget before he turned his attention to the other people attempting to talk with him, asking him questions about his research. Since there’d been so many people between the two of you, the only thing you could do was grin back, and then write it off as a chance encounter - committing his smile and his voice to memory - but not thinking anything else would come from it… unfortunately. He’d cut his hair shorter before you saw him again, nearly two weeks later, but the streak was still there, and all of it still looked impossibly soft - especially messy and moving in the breeze. He’d reintroduced himself immediately, sticking his hand out and asking for your name, the basic pleasantries only lasting for a few seconds before he switched tactics on you without hesitation.

Ezra was right in the middle of flirting with you on the quad - telling a story to try and convince you to come out with him to a restaurant that he loved without outright asking - and you cut him off, straightening the hem of your shirt as a way to gain confidence - even though it only worked partially and you knew that he knew it.

“Ezra.” Lips pressed tightly together, you lifted an eyebrow, waiting a few seconds as the main trailed off, looking shocked that you’d interrupted him. “You don’t need to tell me everything about the menu.” He was truly surprised, you could see it in his eyes, in the way that he shifted his weight, one hand going to his hip as he watched you, head tilted. “I believe you.” “Then why are we still standing in this same, unbelievably noisy and heavily traversed location?” You couldn’t hold back the smile, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “If my description of the plentiful mealtime offerings hasn’t motivated you to -”

“Ezra.” You liked saying his name almost as much as he liked hearing it, and made a mental note to speak it as often as possible. “You haven’t asked me to go anywhere with you yet.” He laughed at that, fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, teeth bared as he grinned at you. You also decided that you liked that sound - very much.

“Well, that is my mistake.” He gestured with one hand in your direction, still smiling broadly. “Do let me rectify that by requesting the honor of your presence tonight for dinner.” You’d thought the way he spoke was strange - though endearing - and even though you weren’t used to it, you also decided that you liked it, too. But I won’t make it easy for him.

“How do you know that I’m not seeing someone, Ezra?” Cocking your head to one side, too, you met his eyes, unblinking. “How do you know that I’m not just letting you dig yourself into a -”

“A woman like you wouldn’t be staring at a man like me the way that you have been since we began this conversation if she were otherwise involved.” Simple. Direct. To the point. You appreciated it more than you were willing to admit, and it was a refreshing change of pace from the other men you’d dated - but even from only a few minutes of conversation and watching him give one lecture, you knew that Ezra wasn’t like other men.

“You’re right.” Biting down on your lower lip, you studied his reaction for a few more seconds before you ran your tongue over it - a movement that he followed with both eyes, not even bothering to hide it. “But you know what else a woman like me wouldn’t be doing if she had someone else?” He quirked an eyebrow, the smile returning. “No, I do not. Enlighten me.” Taking a step closer, you crossed both arms over your chest, looking up and meeting his eyes. “She wouldn’t be staring at you and wondering whether or not that blonde streak of hair is the only one you’ve got.” That got him, the man’s expression changing into one of total surprise, mouth falling open before he let out a quiet whistle and then stepped closer to you, one hand reaching out and settling against the bare skin of your arm, his thumb moving over it slowly - deliberately.

“I’m more than happy to give you the opportunity to find out for yourself.” It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it, eyes focused on your face, one side of his mouth quirking up into the barest hint of a smile. “Either way, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

You made your decision in a split second, appreciating how direct he was, how brazen the man was in his flirtation with you, and cocked your head to the opposite side, the tip of your tongue poking into the corner of your mouth. “Let’s start with dinner, Ezra. I believe you said you knew a good place?”

Of all the expressions that you ever saw on his face, the smile he gave you in return was in your top three - and it was the beginning of everything.

…. Also? There’s no other blonde streak, but for a man that carries himself in as casual and rugged a way as Ezra? He’s especially well groomed everywhere, and cares a lot about hygiene - even with only one arm. (The only exception is his beard, which you like a lot scruffier than well-trimmed, and he is more than happy to oblige that simple request.)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When you met Ezra, he was a typical late 20’s student. (Started school late, and was in his second year of the Ephrate’s equivalent of grad school, so roughly 27 Earth years when you meet him, but probably a little older, since time passes differently on different planets.) His good looks, quick wit and that look he gave women when they were speaking to him? He was trouble. You knew it, he knew it, and the rest of the student body knew it, too. He was charming, he was different, because of the way he spoke … but there was one thing that you knew right off the bat, even before you found yourself in bed with him: Ezra. Is. Incredibly. Intimate.

Yeah, he can turn it off and have just sex, but with him, there’s no point to letting him do that. You don’t go to bed with someone like him for it to be just sex, you want everything. But intimacy to Ezra isn’t just the physical act. No… it’s everything that gets you into bed, and everything that comes after.

With his vocabulary, he can go from quoting plays and books - even old movies - to whispering the absolute filthiest things imaginable into your ear in the same breath. And he’s done it, multiple times.

Ezra has a way about him that makes it even so when you don’t know him, it’s like you do, because he’s so observant. He pulls in details from the tiniest things - the way you look in the starlight, the brightness in your eyes when you laugh at something, how one corner of your lips twitches slightly when you’re listening to someone, but don’t quite believe them, or how you tend to dig your teeth in when you’re about to make a point. He sees it all, and he comments on it all, and it goes a hell of a long way to keeping you in the moment with him, strengthening the connection you have.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

On the Ephrate, Ezra didn’t need to resort to this as much as he did before going to school. Yes, there were women at home, but he grew up in a relatively quiet place - so he only had so many options. He was a typical teenager, but even though it felt good, he always knew there was more out there for him - somewhere.

While in school (both times), Ezra had his pick. Thousands of female students from all over the galaxy? Some of them shared his bed. Many of them were the subject of his fantasies. All of them are fond memories, until they’re just not important anymore.

Enter you.

While Ezra’s on the Green, you’re all he thinks about 90% of the time in private. It’s only natural, right? You’re the one he’s planning on going home to, you’re the one he wants to be with - you’re the one he wants to imagine when he’s got a few minutes to himself in his bunk or in the shower. Like with everything, he prefers to take his time, drawing things out and giving himself a chance to get lost in memories… but that’s not the Green.

No. There, he has to be quick, be quiet… and quiet isn’t something that comes easily to Ezra, especially at first. For the first few months he’s gone, the knuckle of his left pointer finger is almost consistently bruised from him biting down on it to muffle the noises he makes. But as time passes, that stops - and instead, Ezra’s able to focus on the small black circles inked in the space between his thumb and forefinger, remembering what it felt like to have your thumb pressed to it when you held hands, or the way your lips looked against it when you’d turn your head and find his hand caressing your cheek. After losing his arm? After losing his dominant hand? Getting himself off was a struggle. He didn’t think about it for the first few weeks, of course, because he was recovering from the amputation and the wound to his chest, but as soon as he was up to it, and he realized that there was a real chance he’d have an actual life - maybe with you again? It was overwhelming. Yes, as soon as he felt well enough, one of the first things Ezra did - in the privacy of a well lit, comfortable bedroom in his recovery room at the Med Center on Central - was get himself off.

But his fingers felt foreign wrapped around his length, thoughts running wild - and not in a good way. Even thinking of you - and of his favorite memory of you - wasn’t enough to help him finish at first. And that is something that shocked him (But it didn’t last long.)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Ezra’s biggest kinks is blindfolding you. One, because it gives him a chance to appeal to the senses that aren’t sight - it means that he knows you’re into him and responding to him for more than what you can see … and two, it allows him to stare at you without shame or restraint - and it’s one of his favorite things in the universe to do (clothed and unclothed, but he prefers the moments when you’re bared to him. It’s a trust thing again.)

This is true before and after the Green, and after, it makes him feel more confident, because he knows you’re not looking at him - the lost arm, the scars, his weakened body from losing a great deal of weight on decreased rations. It makes him feel more confident, even though deep down, he knows you’re not focusing on any of those things when you look at him.

Two specific instances?

Prior to leaving for the aurelac rush, you were the one that suggested Ezra blindfolding you for the first time. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up, because the truth was that you relished the moments that you got to watch him while you were in bed (or in any number of other places) with each other, but one of your friends had mentioned that she’d tried it on her husband on a whim, and you’d been intrigued. “You want me to forfeit my eyesight, Starlight?” He blinked at you slowly, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “When looking at you is absolutely all I ruminate about when we’re apart?” “No. Ezra, I want you to…” You paused, nervously chewing on your lip. “I want you to cover my eyes.” Mouth falling open with a quiet laugh, Ezra stepped toward you, reaching out to wind an arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. “You’re distracting.” You lifted a hand, tugging gently on the blonde streak in his hair, your eyes locked. “I don’t want to see what’s coming next, I just want to feel it.” You paused, winking. “And hear you.”

“That is surely … something for me to ponder.” He leaned down, kissing you quiet, and for long moments you let him, grip on his hair relaxing, even though his hand wandered beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips stroking your lower back. “I am enthralled by this idea,” he murmured into your ear before grazing the lobe with his teeth. “Maybe too much, to be truthful.”

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much, Ezra.” You kissed his cheek, lips pressing to the raised edges of the silvery scar there. “I trust you.”

That was all it took - those three words - and Ezra discovered a new and very fulfilling kink. Eventually, he worked up to asking you to blindfold him, too - and it didn’t take long for the two of you to find and choose a favorite piece of material to use to block your vision; a strip of fabric from the shirt you’d worn on your second date - and the first night you’d gone to bed with him - that had *somehow* gotten torn.

After the Green, you’d been the one to suggest it again, after seeing - and feeling - that he was hesitant to truly let himself go with you. He’d been back in your life for a few weeks, both of his serious wounds well on their way to healing, and you’d been intimate a few times, but it wasn’t like it had been before - and you both knew it.

“Ezra?” You came out of your bedroom and down the stairs, calling out his name before you’d reached the bottom floor of the house. “How do you feel about staying in tonight? I can order dinner, and we can …” You paused in front of where he sat on the couch, gesturing with one hand. “Just relax. I know the last few weeks have been a lot for you.”

“I’d like that.” He tilted his head up and toward you, nodding. “What did you have in mind?” He watched as you moved to sit down next to him, and before he thought about it, reached for you with his right arm, swearing quietly as he corrected the action and tugged you onto his lap with his left. You eased against his body, careful not to knock into the still healing wound on his chest with your shoulder or elbow, and tucked your forehead in against his neck, arm disappearing behind his back and the other hand resting on his knee.

“I’m not sure. Whatever you want. That one place you liked? The one with the noodles? They closed. So I guess… anything but that?” He laughed, glancing down at the way you nestled even closer to him at the sound, breath hitting the skin at the base of his throat, where the collar of his shirt wasn’t covering it.

“It’s a very good thing I happen to be adaptable, then.” It was your turn to laugh, the sound more of a snort, and Ezra felt his chest grow tight - the feeling having nothing to do with the fresh scar tissue there. But neither of you made any move toward the kitchen, where a stack of menus sat in a drawer, or for your tablet, to place an order. I like this feeling. He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on your hip, and heard you clear your throat.

“Reach into my back pocket.” He paused, but did as you asked, you shifting to lift so that he could get his hand where you’d told him to. Sucking in a breath as his fingers closed around the familiar material, Ezra whispered your name. “Couldn’t get rid of it. Not even when I moved.” He lifted the length of blue fabric and held it up in front of your faces, the memories of using it with you flooding back. “I’m sure you haven’t thought of it in -”

“Years?” He kissed the top of your head, closing his eyes. “That is false.” He took a few seconds to consider his words, deciding to cut straight to the chase - for once. “You put a piece of it into my pack before I left, and that small square of fabric brought me comfort nearly the entire time I was on that Kevva-forsaken moon.” You said his name, sitting up and twisting to look at him, the man gesturing for you to take the blindfold from him. “I lost it when I was forced to abandon my pack during the altercation with my crew, and no matter how long I looked, I couldn’t find it.”

You winced at that, using both hands to twist the fabric, though your eyes were locked with his. “I’m sorry, Ezra.” Swallowing hard, you finally closed your eyes. “But there’s another reason I want to stay in tonight.” His heartbeat quickened, and though he knew it was coming, he was still surprised at your next words. “Blindfold me, Ezra. I know you’re still working through a lot, but maybe it -” “I can’t tie a knot anymore.” The words came out bitter, but you didn’t let him dwell on that, the blindfold dropping from your hands and into your lap, palms on his cheeks and forcing him to look at you again. “You can help me tie it, Ezra.” Leaning in, you pressed your forehead to his, breath catching. “Or we don’t have to use it, but I just thought … I see how you try to hide. You tell me not to look at you, and this way?” You kissed him gently, lips once again easily finding the scarred skin of his cheek, the familiarity of it striking him as much as it had each time you did it before - and then continued. “This way I can’t. You’ve got all the control, it’s all up to you.” Pulling back just enough, you met his eyes again, and he saw the anguish in yours, the desperation to help him. “It’s all up to you.”

“D’you still…” He swallowed, the words sticking in his throat. “Trust me, Starlight?” There wasn’t even a breath between his question and your response. “Always.”

For once, Ezra was unable to find the words to express his gratitude to you, but he also knew that you didn’t need to hear them - he’d seen it on your face at his reaction to your assertion, and you wouldn’t ever force him to speak it out loud. Another? Alright.

After the Green? Ezra develops an absolute love for sensation play. Since there was so little room or time for him to enjoy the feeling of anything that wasn’t his suit, his hands or the sparse amounts of water available on his skin for so long, every single thing that he feels - and enjoys - turns him on in the moment.

The feeling of your fingers against his skin, whether you’re warm or cold? The way the soft, silky material of your clothes slides over his back or chest before one of you removes it? The feeling of the grass, or the sand or even water - from a lake or an ocean, or the tub? The way the sunlight feels when it warms his skin or the cool breeze from the ventilation fans in your house? Every one of them is a new miracle to Ezra.

All of it is overwhelming to him, but he loves it. He even likes the slightly uncomfortable situations; the cramped backseat of your transport vehicle, the grittiness of the bricks that make up a building’s walls against his palm as he kisses you senseless outside of a restaurant that you go to to celebrate his birthday. Everything he feels now is making up for what he couldn’t feel then, and he won’t ever take any of it for granted.

But his absolute favorite thing was the way you tasted when he kissed you in the middle of dessert one night, a spoonful of ice cream melting against both of your tongues and dripping slowly over your lips. Ezra got used to being uncomfortably warm on the Green, and so he truly appreciates any excuse to be chilled - in any way … but especially when it involves your mouths and skin.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ezra’s adventurous, and if you’re game for it, he’ll have you just about anywhere. The two of you like being outside, under the stars (which is where and how you got your nickname - more on that in a separate piece). He likes the way his skin looks against yours, likes the soft sounds of the grass and the wind, the sound of the crickets … he’s a very outdoorsy man, and even though you’re always somewhat worried that someone will stumble upon you, he’s very reassuring - and it doesn’t take long for your entire focus to be on him, no matter where the two of you are. Ezra is also partial to the two of you being inside, because it means that he can prolong things - slowly removing his clothes and yours, taking his time working you up - with words or his hands or his mouth or even just with a look. Floor, bed, couch, counter, shower … it doesn’t matter to him. Your safety and comfort are very important to him, and he knows that even though you like the fresh air, you’re much more likely to let yourself get lost in him and what you’re doing from the get-go if you’re inside and can lock a door.

Fact: After Ezra’s return to the Ephrate from Central after the Green, and after he’d been released from the second Med Center and cleared to begin a “normal” routine, the first place the two of you had sex was in your shower. (More on that in a separate piece, too)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This is a good question, and depending on the day you ask him, Ezra’s answers might be very different.

He’s turned on by touch - you squeezing his hand, putting your hand on his knee, running your fingers through his hair.

He’s turned on by the way you speak to people - confident, without talking down to others. He loves that you don’t need him to speak for you, but are absolutely willing to let him in some cases. He also likes the way you talk to him, never hesitating to make a joke, or say exactly what’s on your mind.

He knows that you still want to impress him, but aren’t focused on doing that every time you open your mouth.

Ezra loves when you listen to him, bringing up some obscure fact that he mentioned in passing weeks or months prior. He knows that it means that you’re truly paying attention to him, that you listen when he speaks, and that what he says is very important to you - like it is to him. He also likes it when you take the lead - not always in bed, but he likes when you’re the one that gets things started; slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his pants if you’re just lounging, kissing his jaw, or letting your lips linger on the tattoo on his hand and then pulling it toward your body in the middle of a conversation. There’s a lot that turns Ezra on, let’s be honest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Ezra won’t hurt you. He hates indecisiveness. He hates being talked down to, or made to feel less than - but he also doesn’t like someone trying to talk him up beyond his actual capabilities, even if they mean well.

Ezra won’t go to bed with anyone after they’ve been drinking heavily - and that includes himself. He doesn’t drink much, but he’s not a big guy, so it doesn’t take much to make him tipsy - especially since his liquor of choice is whiskey, and he prefers dark, strong beer.

You learn very quickly that Ezra’s not the type of man to take someone out and feed them drinks to speed along the process. Yes, you drink together, but even when it leads to you in bed, it doesn’t progress past wandering hands and kisses - at least until you’ve both sobered up. He also will not discuss his sex life in detail with anyone. Vague responses, yes. But the first time someone made a comment about the two of you that he didn’t like… you didn’t think you’d ever seen someone go so still. Ezra’s a gentleman, through and though, and even though he’s had to make a lot of difficult decisions and experienced lot of difficult situations in his life, he won’t compromise when it comes to the woman he’s with (you) and their reputation or honor. It’s old fashioned, but it’s one of the many things that you love about him.

It wasn’t something that the two of you did before the Green, but when he comes back, Ezra makes it very clear that he’s not interested at all in breath play of any kind. He knows what it’s like to feel like he can’t breathe; oxygen available but not flowing into his lungs, and has no interest in ever reliving that situation in his life, or encouraging it for someone else, even only briefly.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A man of very simple tastes, if you want him in your mouth, he won’t ever tell you no. For a lot of men, receiving this type of attention is a chance to zone out, only focusing on how good it feels… but not for Ezra. He pays attention to everything, no matter what it is you’re doing - the way your lips feel, what you’re doing with your tongue, the way your hands clutch at his thighs or his ass, whether or not you’re paying attention to all of him, or only the tip … every single second of it is pleasure to Ezra, but it’s only because of the person giving it to him.

He’s had some pretty underwhelming blowjobs in his time, and even worse sex, so finding out that you wouldn’t be lumped into either of those categories was a very welcome revelation. When you’re going down on him, he likes either using it as an opportunity to finish in your mouth - only with your permission - or at the very last second, pulling out and finishing in you.

However. As much as he likes being on the receiving end, Ezra is very, very giving.

That tongue of his isn’t only good for speaking, and even though it took you some time to feel comfortable enough to let him go down on you, once you had, you never turned him down again. Like with everything else, Ezra takes the time to do it right. And even though you can’t explain it, the fact that he pauses long enough to check in with you, making sure that you like what he’s doing doesn’t take you out of the moment in the way that it would with anyone else. He’s not trying to inflate his own ego, and doesn’t need constant reassurance - he’s legitimately trying to figure out what he’s doing right - and what he can do better next time.

As the two of you got to know each other more and you realized how competitive he was (More on that in the Wild Card section), you bet him that he couldn’t get you off in under five minutes with his mouth - which, to be honest, wouldn’t have upset you much, even if he’d lost the bet. Ezra did it in less than three, with the use of two fingers and a side-to-side movement with his tongue that you were not expecting. Even though it felt incredible, you made him promise not to make that his go to, because… well.

“Don’t you worry, Starlight. I was just proving a point.” He sat up, using one thumb to wipe at his lips, an eyebrow raised. “You underestimate my usual restraint when it comes to your pleasure.” You couldn’t help it; leaning forward and grabbing a handful of his hair, pulling him close enough to press your lips to his, the action surprising him. “No, Ezra. I know better than to ever do that. I just know how much you like a challenge.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He isn’t overly rough, but he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass, either. Ezra knows what you can handle, and while he won’t give you more than that, he likes to push limits - and so do you. You always know when he’s got something on his mind and how it’s impacting him by the way he is in bed with you.

Hard and fast = and something’s bothering him.

Slower and focused = You’ve got his full attention. You can always coax him into a different pace, but as the two of you got closer, you didn’t need to as much. It only takes a few words, a hand gliding across his back or a palm against his cheek, and you’ve got his attention. The times you have to pull him out of his thoughts, you know that the after will likely include him filling you in on whatever’s bugging him, but as you remind him all the time, that’s what you’re there for - and you have no problem with that. You want it from him.

But the one thing to remember: Ezra’s always thorough. Always. He takes his responsibilities very seriously when it comes to the way he is in bed, and even if he’s not being serious, he will absolutely not let you leave the bed (or the couch, or the blanket or the shower) unless he knows that you’re well-fucked and completely taken care of.

He’s a gentleman like that.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ezra will have you anywhere, and at any time that you allow him to do so.

Before, he prefers to take his time with you, making sure that both of you enjoy every second, but neither of you are strangers to being in a rush - between classes, before work or an event, that one time at your parents’ house before your birthday dinner … He’s an opportunist, and you love him for it, because when he gets that look in his eye, you know you’re going to like what’s coming.

After? He means to go slow, but in the weeks that follow his arrival back to the Ephrate, it’s fast more often than not. After so long apart, he can’t help it, and no matter how many times he tells himself he needs to slow down, tells you you need to slow down and just enjoy it, ease back into things, giving both of you time to readjust, it’s nearly impossible.

There’s also a short period of time where he tries to take things quickly with you, because he’s very self conscious about his arm - and he believes that forcing you to look at it is additional punishment on top of what he’s already put you through by disappearing for so long. Basically? He wants to get off, and get you off, but give you a quick out if you want it. (You do not.)

But no matter how many times Cee tells him that what happened on the Green to his chest and to his arm is just a part of life in the Fringe, and anyone that loves him won’t let it matter, it takes a long conversation late at night with you for it to really stick - and for him to go into more detail about what happened on the Green and what led to him losing that arm in the first place.

After that happens, he’s very excited to find that you initiate quickies often just to show him that it doesn’t matter how long it lasts, you’re just happy to be with him again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Look at him and tell me that he doesn’t take risks - I dare you. Ezra’s life has been one risk after another. Leaving home - and a relatively lucrative career with his brother - to study. Making a home on a new planet. Falling in love with you. Leaving you to go to the Green? It’s all risky, and even though in many cases, the reward was worth it, he knows all too well what happens if he fails, even partially.

But when it comes to sex with Ezra, nearly everything’s on the table there, too.

It’s easier, before, to try new things and new places, to thoroughly take care of you, to make sure that you’re satisfied, and Ezra does that without hesitation whenever he possibly can.

After? After he’s lost an arm, after he’s spent years on the Green with no one and nothing but the people he could never fully trust? Risk to him means something different. He indulges your whims - and some of his own, but there’s always a pause, always a moment of hesitation where he weighs options in a way that he didn’t ever before.

Before, a calculated risk to Ezra meant making sure that neither of you would be caught … and now, it means ensuring that you won’t be hurt, even in simple, harmless situations. He knows it’s unnecessary - knows that he needs to shake it, but he can’t do that right away, and is very thankful that you’re willing to work through it with him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I said before that Ezra likes to prolong sex, and when both of you are in no hurry, it’s not uncommon to spend an hour wrapped up in each other. The entire time isn’t spent on the actual act of sex - both you and Ezra love foreplay, too. Teasing is important for both of you; getting right to the edge with hands or mouths and then pulling back - you know each other well, and you make the most of it.

Fun fact: Ezra was the first guy you’d been with that didn’t get outright offended when you didn’t get off during sex and he did. Instead of being upset, he looked at it as a challenge.

“You do understand that there are innumerable ways for me to make you come?” His voice quiet in the darkness had startled you, the feeling of him pulling out from between your legs making you let out a sound - a low whine that you barely recognized. “Let’s start trying to figure them all out.”

The weight of him disappeared from your body, and then before you could react, or tell him that it was fine, you felt his chin against your abdomen, the hair from his beard gently scratching along your skin, followed by his lips at your navel. He cleared his throat as you reached for him with one hand, fingers brushing against the tangled locks at the crown of his head, and then pressed another kiss to the inside of your thigh before he spoke again, amusement - and determination - in his voice, warm breath spreading out over your slick skin. “One.”

---

On a good night - and there are a lot of good nights - Ezra’s good for at least three rounds (with time between, of course) - but he always makes sure that you come at least once more than he does before he’s satisfied. This is unless, of course, you wear each other out to the point where you’re unable to do anything but fall asleep, and you almost like those times better, because you know that the next morning (or afternoon, or whenever it is that you come to) you’ll be woken up by Ezra’s low voice in your ear, hand (or hands, prior to the Green) roaming your body.

For whatever reason, whenever you and Ezra have slow, sleepy sex, neither of you last as long, and both of you have no idea why. (But neither of you will ever complain, and it’s your favorite way to start the day.)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You had a small collection before you met him, something that you were very open to sharing with him. They were holiday gifts from your friends, favors from bachelorette parties - typical for someone your age. And you’d used them, especially in the times between relationships, when it was simpler to pick one than find someone short term. The men you’d been with previously had liked bringing them into bed with you, too, because it meant that they could pause and just watch you, but Ezra?

It is a personal mission of his to make sure that you do not ever *need* to turn to something else when he’s in bed with you. If you really wanted to use one of them, he wouldn’t outright tell you no (and this happens after he comes home - which, at first seems unreasonable to him, until you explain it in a way that doesn’t make him feel like less of a man) but before?

The first time you opened the small box, Ezra sucked in a breath that turned into a low hum, both of his hands reaching for yours and squeezing. “Your very own treasure chest, hmm?” Even in the low light, you saw the gleam in his eyes, the smirk on his face. “These are what you like?” You hadn’t known it at the time, but he wasn’t making fun of you, instead wanting to get an idea of what he could expect in the future. “These are what you need?”

Staying silent, you eyed him, listening to the change in the tone of his voice, his accent becoming thicker. “They’re just options, Ezra.” Barely above a whisper, you finally spoke as he kissed your jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek when he closed his eyes. “I -” He pushed you backwards, and just as smoothly as the man had entered your life in the first place, he was hovering over your body, using both hands to pin your wrists, knees bent on either side of your hips. “Ezra.”

He smiled, waiting an extra breath and then spoke again, slowly bringing his face back toward yours and his lips to your ear. “I have learned in my lifetime that anything worth doing well is worth doing by hand.” He kissed you then, teeth grazing your earlobe as you arched your back beneath him, your fingers closing into fists - even though you didn’t try to pull your wrists free. “But.” His lips moved down your neck and then over your throat, his name spilling from your mouth before you could stop it. “Talk to me, Starlight. Tell me what -”

“Don’t need them, Ezra.” You were struggling at that point, just to give yourself something to do, shoulders pushed back and into the mattress as you moved beneath him, your breath coming out in short spurts though he’d barely touched you. “They’re just…” You moaned as you felt him bite down on your collarbone, and then he let you go, moving his hands to the pillows, yours going to his face and pulling it back up. His gaze was calm, but you could feel that it was just cover; the man waiting for your response. Shaking your head back and forth slowly, you locked eyes with him, using one fingertip to trace over the curved scar on his cheek. “For when you’re not around.”

He groaned, bending his arms and letting his weight settle against you; the length of him pressed along the inside of your thigh the best - and only - reminder that you needed that when Ezra was there, the warmth of him was all you needed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ezra’s a damn tease, especially in the bedroom, but you know that whenever he gets going, the payout is well worth it. He never denies you anything, unless there’s a reason. He never outright ignores you - or what you want or need … but he doesn’t always make it easy. And that’s another one of the things that you love about him. Ezra’s caring and considerate, but he’s set in his ways. He’s very particular about the way he carries himself, and the beliefs he has, which makes a lot of others question him. But when they really get to know him, they understand that how he is is a big part of what he is, and he’s a welcome change from the people that you grew up with, from the people that you’d been around for long stretches of your life.

For Ezra, it’s all about the build up. The two of you went to bed together for the first time with very little hesitation - it wasn’t the first date… but it also didn’t take until the third. So, after that, both of you decided that it would be fun to get to know each other by seeing how far you could go riling each other up.

It usually starts when you’re nowhere near a private area. Ezra loves just barely touching you - his fingers brushing against your arm, a slight push on your back, the nail of his thumb dragging over your palm … it all drives you wild, and he knows it.

When you first started seeing each other exclusively, you were both still taking classes - and had very different schedules… let’s just say that the biggest tease of all was the way he kissed you before saying goodbye in the morning, or before going your separate ways after meeting for lunch. They were just kisses, yes, but they were also an indication of what you had waiting at the end of the day and behind closed doors. He didn’t even have to say anything (although he often did); all it took was that kiss and one look - a wink, the slight twitch of his lips, the appearance of that dimple in his cheek - and he was all you could think about for the rest of the day.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ezra is a talker - before and after the Green. However, for the most part, when he’s in bed, he’s content to rein it in and let you be the one to speak.

But when he does get caught up in the moment, when he does let himself go, it pushes you over the edge too quickly for you to even think about it much. It’s not that he says filthy things, but the way he speaks? He could be talking about the weather, and as long as he’s murmuring into your ear, his beard rubbing against your cheek, hands roaming your body? It doesn’t matter.

It never mattered, and he knows it.

Ezra’s vocabulary is much larger than anyone else you’ve ever met, and even though there was a short period of time where it was almost too much for you because you thought it was an act, you quickly realized that he didn’t speak just to speak - it isn’t because he likes hearing himself talk, even though that’s what so many other people believe about him.

Hearing the man speak - and speak to you in the way that he does, praising you, giving you directions, begging you - dreaming about it was enough to get you through the years he was missing. Countless nights, you woke up to an empty and silent room, straining your ears to catch the fading remnants of your dreams - his voice filling the dark corners, spreading through the spaces between the sheets. When that happened, you wondered if the same ever happened to him - on the Green Moon, surrounded by strangers.

Hearing it again for the first time? It didn’t matter that you were both fully clothed and flanked by other people - it brought every memory of him back all at once, and if you thought that you had to contain yourself from lunging at him, it’s nothing compared to what Ezra felt.

That first night back with you? After the first time you said his name, you didn’t get another word in.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ezra is competitive. You knew it from the get go - watched the way that his eyes would take on that distinctive gleam when he was interested in making a wager with someone, or when he put his mind to doing something that he said he was going to do. You knew that when he was younger, he’d been competitive with his brother - both at home and on jobs - and his uncle, though that was more just because Ezra liked proving people wrong - and surprising them. He’s not scrawny now (at least not after a few months of recovery from the Green), but he was a scrawny teenager with some hidden arm strength, and he ended up surprising everyone more than a few times when it came to being able to hoist himself up and onto ledges, or to lift stones, wooden beams, machinery etc.

But when it comes to being competitive with you, things like proving you wrong about how long it’ll take him to get you off, how well he can read people, or just the way that it seems like he can guess your thoughts sometimes? You don’t understand it fully, and you wouldn’t ever bet against him in a public way because he’s right more often than not … but privately? You goad him on, and he knows it, but he’s more than happy to play the game, because it’s fun for him - and for you.

There are things he won’t ever be able to beat you in, just because you were raised differently and had more leisure time and exposure to things than him - but both of you know your limits, though he’s much more willing to test them than you. Ezra’s greatest challenge for himself when it comes to you is finding ways to surprise you. This is true before, during and after his time on the Green - and you don’t know it until much later on, but Ezra truly played the long game when it counted most.

When it comes to being competitive, and testing limits, Ezra’s very careful to never let you put yourself in harm’s way. This probably sounds stupid - you don’t need a man to look out for you like that, you’re perfectly capable of setting your own limits and knowing when you’re approaching them - but with Ezra, the idea of turning things into a game ends as soon as he begins to worry.

You thought it was unnecessary at first, but as you got to know him, you began to understand that like so many things pertaining to the man, this was just another Ezra quirk; he was a lot of things - many of them you wouldn’t learn until well into your relationship, and even more that you wouldn’t learn until after his time on the Green - but at his core, Ezra was a gentleman. Especially when it came to you, and the other people that he loves: like Cee.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So, earlier I said that Ezra sees himself as “average” - and that applies to his body type, too. He’s an average height. He’s of an average build with arms that are slightly stronger than they look, due to years of hard, physical work both on and off planet. He’s never been what women would call muscular, but he takes care of himself - when he can. Admittedly, on the Green, things changed quite a bit about his build; he lost weight due to a very limited diet, his posture changed slightly due to the weight of the suit and the pack he carried for so long. His face hollowed out a little - everywhere except his cheeks.

The hair on his body is dark - like most of the hair on his head, but that’s the only place it’s thick. Arms and legs - average to below average amount of hair, no chest hair to speak of - all of that smooth, golden skin on display for you to look at and touch whenever given the opportunity.

He had scars before the Green - sure. The one on his face, small ones on his forearms, even a few on his back, each of them healed to a various shade of silvery white, skin stippled and raised -standing out. But when he came home, there was another large scar added to the fray, one that he was very candid about. Roughly two and a half inches in length and one wide, Ezra walked you through the second wound from the Green that had almost killed him; Cee’s quick thinking stabilizing the punctured flesh just long enough to get them back to a qualified medical facility on a starship, then to the real Med Center on Central where they fully scraped it clean, and then by the time he was back on the Ephrate, the wound had begun to fully heal, though it would never be gone. It was large, and it was present, but it still wasn’t enough to distract you from the coarse, dark trail of hair that began a few inches to the right of it just beneath his navel, extending downward and past the waistband of his pants. That stayed the same, and though you’d made a joke the first time you’d seen it, remarking that you’d thought it would be blonde, too, fingers trailing through it as he laid in your bed, shirt off and belt unbuckled, pants pushed down just enough, there was nothing to joke about when it came to where it led. If you asked Ezra, his averageness extended below the belt, too, and while it was true that there wasn’t anything significantly exaggerated - one way or another - when it came to what he had to offer, you wouldn’t have described it as average. It was just Ezra, the same way you came to know every other part of him; inch by inch, the smooth length fitting well against your palm and between your curved fingers; the head slipping past your lips for the first time and settling heavily against your tongue.

What was so special about Ezra wasn’t his physical attributes, though you reminded him often of how handsome you thought he was - both verbally and based on the way you touched him - if he behaved like he couldn’t get enough of you and your body, you responded in kind, never holding back when it came to indulging in his form, or in the things you loved about him. (And let me be clear - you love everything about him physically, and wouldn’t want him to change a thing, both before and after the Green.)

It was the way he presented himself, the way he utilized what he had been given. He never outright apologized for what he presumed to lack, but the way he moved - the way he held your body against his; the practiced movement of his hips and hands, the controlled thrusts that never failed to drive you wild - was all the proof you needed that Ezra wasn’t a man that felt he could rely on his looks or a woman being overwhelmed by what she was presented with. He’d accepted what he had to offer the world, and made it work for him.

It made you respect him more.

In your opinion, Ezra drew the attention of everyone that laid eyes on him, but he never let that kernel of truth sink in and take root, and despite the way he presented himself - confident, competent, unconcerned - he had plenty of insecurities.

In an attempt to make him laugh one night after his return to you, when you were talking about your pasts - prior partners and failed relationships, the years you’d spent apart, how you’d kept busy - Ezra’s mood soured, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going to default to downplaying his worth and place in your life. Instead of letting him sink, you looked him dead in the eyes and told him exactly what you thought of him - reminding him of something he’d said to you early on in your relationship about how he approached life.

“It’s not about the size of the gun, Ezra. It’s all about how you use it, right?” You could have been talking about anything - His remaining arm, the scars, his trauma, his experience, his build, his upbringing - but in that moment, you were talking about him, and everything he meant to you. “I’ve never been disappointed in that.” He was silent, which you weren’t surprised by, and instead of pulling back from him, you leaned in, your fingers combing through his hair, his head turned toward you on the pillow, deep brown eyes wide. “And I never will be.”

Everything that Ezra was - you readily accepted, especially physically - and you knew that sometimes, he just needed to hear it again.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a high sex drive, but isn’t all that motivates him. Throughout his prospecting (and mining, and exploration, and educational) careers, he got used to not having sex for months (years) at a time. And it sucked, but that was the life he chose. So when he was on-planet, he made the most of his time and the people that he was with.

For Ezra, sex isn’t just about the physical aspect of things - it’s the lead up and the follow through. It’s the whole process, and it’s what it means. Not that all sex for him is meaningful in the same way - but no matter who he’s with, he gets something out of it, even if it’s only a memory, or a release or a way to pass a night or two.

But when he comes back home, and realizes that he’s got the option to be with you again? That you still want him as much as he wants you - as he always wanted you? He’s insatiable, even though he’s very hesitant to just pick up where you left off.

The two of you had a lot of time to make up for, and even though you needed to take things slowly - he was still healing, after all - he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You took time off of work so that you could spend it with him and Cee, getting to know her (and Ezra, all over again), and it was almost painful for him to have to wait to be alone with you until Cee was sleeping or in school, or he’d been cleared by the medical team, or until he’d found it in himself to begin telling you about his time on the Green. Since it meant, though, that he was back with you? He was willing to wait as long as it took. … just not very patiently. (But that’s fine, you were just as anxious to have him in your bed again as he was to get there.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ezra tends to relax very quickly when he’s spent, but that doesn’t mean that he goes to sleep right away. You might not move a lot, but there are nights where you spend hours together in bed, quietly talking or just touching each other, both of you unwilling to let your eyes close. It’s another challenge for him; keeping the two of you talking, even if they’re only quiet words, murmurs and half sentences.

This is especially true right before he leaves; you know why he’s going, what he hopes to prove, and even though deep down, you know he knows that it’s just as unnecessary as you’ve told him it is, you also know that you won’t deter him from the decision he’s made. So you both force yourselves to stay awake as long as possible, filling yourselves with each other for as long as possible. Yes, there are nights when you do fall asleep immediately - you can’t help it - but that’s not the norm. Just like with any other topic, Ezra craves knowledge about you, and knows that the minutes you spend next to him after you’ve finished with each other tend to lead to you be more open, more honest - more candid - and he takes advantage of them; soaking everything he can get of you up.

The sheets and pillowcases smell like the two of you, and your skin is damp, slick with sweat, but he’s focused on you, making the most of every moment, because he knows that like with everything in life, there are a finite number of these, and he doesn’t intend to waste them. (You’re the same with him, and if you didn’t have a grasp on just how deeply you loved him, it would have concerned you to be so wrapped up in someone else that you’d willingly lose hours of sleep over them.)

---

Tag list: (If you want to be added, please let me know!) @the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @jynrumbly

150 notes · View notes

pepperonijem · 4 years

Text

Silent Night || Steve Rogers

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure Christmas rom-com feels.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You need a fake date to bring home for the holidays. Steve is more than willing. (Fake Dating AU)

A/N: Don’t mind me, just overly obsessed with cheesy hallmark Christmas movies and Steven Grant Rogers. It’s my first fic in a very long time, please be nice ok thx bye have a happy holiday!

‘Twas the night before Christmas break, when all through the apartment complex, not a creature was sleeping, not even a mouse; luggage was packed, without so much as a care, in hopes that they would all soon be out of there. All except one, who wished to stay.

“I can’t believe you told your mom you had a boyfriend,” your roommate, Natasha, laughed. “Actually, I can’t believe your mom believes you have a boyfriend.”

You shot a look at her before tossing a pillow in her direction. “I’m just tired of her getting onto me about being a spinster,” you rolled your eyes as you recalled your mom’s pleading voice over the phone.

“So have you met anyone yet?”

You couldn’t see her but you just knew how her eyebrows were raised in interest. It had become almost a weekly question, and for a second, you considered just hanging up right then, but then an idea came.

“Actually, I have,” you lied. It was only September, and you weren’t going to see your parents until the holidays, and by then, you could come up with a fake break-up story with your imaginary boyfriend.

“Really?” you heard your mother squeal in excitement and you almost felt bad. Almost. “Tell me all about him, and make sure you bring him home for Christmas, I want to meet him!”

You couldn’t help but crack a sad smile as you fed your mom fake details about your fake relationship. “We met in class and started studying together and one thing led to another, and now we’re dating.” There. The bare minimum, but enough to keep her satisfied.

The impact of the pillow against your face snapped you out of your thoughts. “Weren’t you supposed to break up with your fake boyfriend before break?” She questioned. “What happened to that?”

Plopping down beside her on the couch, you sighed and hugged the pillow to your face. Natasha pulled the pillow away and you gave her a dirty look. “You know my mom,” you began. “I just didn’t want to disappoint her. I thought I would be able to find another excuse as to why he couldn’t make it to Christmas, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer after he missed Thanksgiving.” You turned to give Natasha a pleading look. “What do I do?” you asked.

“Well, I still think you oughta tell her,” Natasha admitted. “Or, you could bring home a fake boyfriend.”

Immediately, you shot up and gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean a fake boyfriend?”

“A blow up doll,” she rolled her eyes. “No, obviously you just get someone to pretend to be your boyfriend and then they pretend to break up with you, and you pretend to be sad, and then that’s it. Easy peasy.” Natasha shrugged her shoulders and stood up to pick up her phone from the kitchen counter as if what she suggested was a simple idea. You could hear her furiously typing in the keyboard as she walked away from you.

“Nat, you’ve officially gone bonkers.” However, the longer you thought about it, the more desperate you became. “How would I even find anyone? Everyone’s packing to go home. And on top of that, who would even be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend? They’d have to be really dumb, or really bored to agree.”

“Sure, I’m in.”

“Excuse me?” you asked incredulously.

“I said I’m in,” he repeated with a shrug of his shoulders.

A few minutes after Natasha suggested her idea, you heard a knock at your door. Natasha gave you a mischievous smirk as she opened the door and welcomed in the boy you’d been crushing on all semester. Steve was best friends with Natasha and her boyfriend and although you had hung out with them a few times, you always found yourself getting nervous around him. He was never anything but kind to you, always making sure you were included in the conversation and taking time to include you in the inside jokes.

Of course, Natasha knew about your crush and every so often would try to drop not so subtle hints to Steve. One time, Natasha and Bucky told you and Steve that the plan was to have dinner at 6:30 p.m. but didn’t show up until nearly 8. It was obvious that they were trying to set you up, but Steve never made a move and you didn’t want to be presumptuous, but at least he never made it awkward either. You knew Natasha was reeling inside at how perfectly things were falling into place.

“But why?” You asked, still unable to process what Steve was agreeing to.

“Oh does it matter?” Natasha asked with an eye roll. “You said you needed a boyfriend, and Steve volunteered. It’s perfect!” She took Steve’s hand and led him to the couch where you were sitting on and pushed him to sit beside you. He offered a sheepish smile and left enough distance between you two to be polite.

“Well,” Steve began, turning to face you. “Bucky’s going over to Nat’s over the holiday, and my folks are out of town, so I was just planning to stay on campus for the break.” Natasha coughed and gave Steve a look that you didn’t quite understand. Steve stuttered before adding, “But Natasha mentioned that you needed a boyfriend -- a fake boyfriend -- and I couldn’t leave you in need.” Steve looked down at his hands and back up at you. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his ocean blue eyes and for a second, you let yourself get lost in the idea of what it would be like to hold his hand in the December cold. Natasha rolled her eyes and filled the spot between the two of you.

“You two are hopeless.” She sighed, but a small smile still played on her lips. “Anyway, I’ve got it all planned out.” She turned to you first. “Since you never told your parents what your imaginary boyfriend’s name is, and every detail you’ve fed your mom is vague as hell, you can just fill in the blanks with Steve.”

Standing up, she pointed at Steve. “Okay, Rogers, your job is just to make the parents believe that you are absolutely head over heels for their kid.”

“Easy.” Steve said instantly and you caught him glance in your direction with a smile before turning back to Nat. You felt your cheeks heat up and you sank further back into the couch.

“The important thing is to keep your stories straight, and remember, the most believable lies are based on truth,” Natasha ended. She looked down at her watch. “Alright, Bucky’s waiting down in the lobby, and we need to go so we don’t miss our flight.” She pulled you and Steve in for a hug before heading to the door where her luggage was waiting. “You two have a very happy holiday. See you in the new year!”

As Steve shut the door behind Natasha, you found yourself feeling the butterflies that were hidden by the adrenaline from earlier. Steve turned to face you and gave you a comforting smile. “Look,” he began. “I just wanna be the best fake date you’ve ever had,” he joked.

“Well, you’re the only fake date I’ve ever had,” you laughed. Steve chuckled and you felt yourself grin. “Thanks, Steve, for doing this. You really don’t have to.” You looked down at your fidgeting fingers as you felt his gaze fall on you.

“I know,” he said softly. “I wanted to.”

The rest of the evening was spent planning. You put on the Charlie Brown Christmas special and ordered a pizza and began discussing every detail. You tried to think like your parents, wanting to have an answer for every single question they could ask. When was Steve’s birthday? What was your first date like? What’s your favorite pizza topping? Where did Steve grow up? It was like you were studying for an exam, except the longer you talked, the more you found yourself getting lost in the stories he told of Brooklyn, of his and Bucky’s teenage shenanigans, and it was all easy.

Three movies and a box of pepperoni pizza later, the two of you had settled onto the couch, still trying to think of any other possible stories to tell before you quickly drifted off into a tired slumber. The last thing you remember was Steve’s voice and his arm wrapping around you.

When you woke up it was to the sound of your phone ringing. You sat up to find yourself wrapped in a blanket. You scanned around the living room as you recalled the events of last night and found no trace of the empty pizza box and paper plates or the mugs of hot chocolate you and Steve went through last night. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you remembered that you fell asleep on him, and fell into a small panic when you realized it was him calling.

“Hello?” You answered with a yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Steve answered. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

You smiled into the phone. “Yes, I did. Thank you for cleaning up, you didn’t have to --”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I didn’t mind.” Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Sorry, we never discussed nicknames, but it just came out,” he quickly added. “I just picked up some coffee, and I’ll be there in 15 to help you pack or anything before we go.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit,” you hung up. You got yourself ready and answered the door for Steve. He handed you your coffee, two sugars, no cream, just the way you like it and you smiled as the scent of strong coffee hit your nose. Once you had everything packed, Steve grabbed your bag and the two of you made your way to his car and drove to your hometown. The drive was a few hours long, but Steve had a solid playlist full of karaoke songs that you loved, and the drive felt like it was not long enough.

The wreath on your parents’ door filled you with a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe it was nervousness? Butterflies? Whatever it was, the feeling settled heavily in your stomach as you rang the bell. You looked up at Steve, whose scarf was bundled tight around his neck, and his nose red from the cold, and he gave you an encouraging smile. “You ready?” he asked.

Before you could answer, the door swung open and you and Steve were enveloped in a tight embrace as your mother squealed in happiness. The holidays had begun, and there was no backing out now.

The first few days of the trip had gone by without a hitch, much to you and Steve’s surprise. Your parents did their best to embarrass you with silly stories about your childhood, and while at first you were filled with dread, the lopsided smile he gave you after finding out you once dressed as a McDonald’s Happy Meal box for Halloween made it worth it. Your dad asked the hard questions, asking what Steve’s plans for the future with you looked like and you found your hands fidgeting under the table before Steve’s hand found yours with a squeeze and told your dad that he couldn’t see a future without you in it and you began to picture what that would look like.

Everything was easy with Steve, in a way that it never was. You’d wake up in the morning and head downstairs to find him already awake and laughing with your mom and dad with a coffee waiting for you. After dinner you knew you’d find him sitting by the fire with a book in his hands. As you walked around town you’d spot things in the windows, little tchotchkes that made you think of him. Steve was growing roots in your family and it was as if he was meant to be there, another picture in the family scrapbook, another stocking hung on the fireplace.

Sweetheart became more common. And soon, so did darling and honey. They began to bleed into the quiet moments when you were alone, where you weren’t supposed to be pretending anymore. The soft smiles, the way his hand reached for yours without a single glance, the warmth of his arms wrapped around you. All of a sudden it didn’t feel like you were playing pretend anymore and you wondered if he noticed it too.

It was when you realized how easy it was to be with him that you realized how hard it would be to let him go. The thought of an inevitable end to your not-so-fake-anymore relationship weighed upon you like a blanket of snow, cold enough to snap you out of your fantasy. You were sitting by the tree with Steve the night of Christmas Eve, wrapping some last minute gifts for your family when you felt it.

The end was coming.

Steve must have felt it too, or felt something was off, because he reached for your hand almost instinctively. You hesitated before slipping your hand in his and when you looked up, you met his eyes. Just over a week ago, his eyes were just blue. But now, you realized, there was a storminess hiding in the blues of his eyes, like there was lightning behind his irises, but an ever-present stillness to them too. In this moment, there was concern mixed into the grays and blues, and your stomach lurched in a desire to forget your realization, to relax back into the rhythm and rightness of pretend, but Steve deserved more than a fake relationship and you owed it to him.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “What’s wrong?” The plea in his voice made it obvious that he suspected what was wrong. He was only asking to give you a chance to tell him that his suspicions were wrong. A last chance to abort and keep the charade going.

Pulling your hand out of his was the hardest thing you’ve had to do, and the instant chill on your skin where his calloused hand was touching was impossible to ignore. “This,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “Steve, we can’t keep pretending like this, not when I have real feelings for you.” You finally looked up at him and kept going. You wouldn’t be able to finish if he interrupted, and you needed to be heard. “I can’t tie you down to a fake relationship, when you deserve to be with someone you actually are in love with. You’re an amazing friend for even agreeing to do this, but I don’t want to force you to be part of a mess that I put myself into.” You stood up, and finally added, “You can go home tonight. I’ll tell my parents the truth in the morning, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Hold on, I--” you interrupted him with a final, lingering kiss, hoping that the memory of it would be enough for you. You felt the hesitation in his fingers as he reached up to cup your face, trying to keep you where you were, before you pulled away.

Without looking back, you turned around and walked up the stairs, trying to convince the tremble in your fingers and the pounding in your heart that you made the right choice.

The next morning you woke up and for a few seconds, you laid in peace until the regrets of last night flooded over you. You dragged yourself up off your bed, trying to cheer yourself up by remembering that it was Christmas. Part of you hoped that you would see him downstairs, talking to your mom about her favorite cookie recipe, but when you walked into the kitchen and found your mom by herself, you knew he was really gone.

“Hey honey,” your mom exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight hug that suggested she knew something was wrong. “Merry Christmas” she said into your hair. After a moment, she finally let go and the tears that were threatening to spill over finally gave way and your mom reached out to brush them away. She pulled you back into her arms, and once you managed to steady your breathing, the two of you sat down.

“I heard you and Steve talking last night,” she admitted. You let out a strangled sob and your mom reached out to rub your back. “Honey, you could have just told me the truth. I love you, and you don’t need a relationship to validate that.” She gave you a small smile. “But when I saw the way you looked at each other, well I have to admit, it was nice to know someone would be here to keep loving you long after I’m gone.”

You set your head down against the table. “Well too bad Steve was only pretending to love me,” you sighed. “He deserves to love someone for real. I couldn’t hold him back from that. It was unfair.”

“Pretending?” She asked incredulously. “Sweetie, listen to me. That sweet boy was head over heels for you, and anyone could see it. The way he looked at you everytime you laughed, and every time he walked in a room and he always looked for you first, no one could fake being as in love as he clearly is with you.”

Finally lifting your head up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve. Maybe those moments you thought you were imagining were really there. Maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe you were an idiot for walking away from you last night. You stood up, ready to find him and apologize.

Feeling a rush of frenzy and determination, you ran upstairs to grab your keys and your coat, ready to ask your mom to drive you back to school so you can find him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and as you turned the knob to open your front door, you found yourself staring into a pair of stormy blue eyes.

“Steve?” your voice came out in a whisper. His hand was frozen mid-air, about to press the doorbell.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, were you heading out?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of the trance you were lost in. “Uh Y-yeah, I was on my way to see you, actually,” you admitted. You stepped out of the doorway to let him in and you both stood in the kitchen. He set the bag he was holding on the counter and he opened the box.

“Donut? The only donut shop open was like 30 minutes away,” he offered, smiling as if you didn’t just try to break his heart last night. He handed you one, a chocolate with sprinkles, your favorite, before pulling out one for himself and taking a bite. He motioned for you to sit with him and you followed. “Listen, I--”

“Steve, I’m --” you both started at the same time. “You go first,” you allowed.

He nodded before continuing. “I know last night, you asked me to leave, but I couldn’t. At least not without telling you how I feel. You told me that you had real feelings for me, and I do too. Hell, I’ve had real feelings for you. Long before these last two weeks. When Nat texted me that night, I knew I finally had the perfect opportunity to tell you how I felt, but when we got here, everything just felt so… so real, and I let myself forget that it wasn’t. At least not yet. No matter how much I wanted it to be.”

You set down your donut, suddenly feeling that hunger was the least important thing you were feeling at this moment. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply nodded as he continued.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, that I really, really, really, like you. None of this has been pretend for me.” He looked into your eyes, pleading, as he tentatively reached for your hand. “I want to do this the right way, no games, no schemes, just you and me. The real thing.”

The storm in his eyes seemed to make way for light, and the bright blues that disappeared behind his eyelids were the last thing you noticed before you felt your lips fall onto his. His hand reached up and you felt the pad of his thumb brush against your cheek. Gently, as though any more pressure and you would crumble like snow. You pulled away with a sigh, Steve’s lips chasing after yours.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathed out.

“Merry Christmas.”

299 notes · View notes

infernal-fire · 4 years

Text

Easy To Be Loved

Warnings: whole lotta floof, bits of angst

Pairing(s): Steve x Hindu!reader

Summary: Part of your identity has always been notoriously difficult to embrace. Lucky for you, Steve will be there every step of the way on your journey to redefine yourself.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: i’m hindu myself (i practice shaivism specifically) and this fic includes some customs from my own culture. i tried to stay as ambiguous as i could to include as many people as i could.

and i made the moodboard myself! pretty proud of it :) let me know what you guys think :)

You stared at the wedding invitation your friend, Amara, had excitedly pressed into your hands. It had been years since you visited family, let alone a temple. The prospect of going to the temple for a wedding again - well, it was frightening. You would have to deal with the cultural neglect that you have been refusing to acknowledge ever since you began Avenging.

You didn’t go to the wedding.

Amara didn’t take it well. The argument that ensued when she showed up to the Tower was messy. Onlookers tried their best to ignore it but the physical cringes and judgmental looks were far from subtle.

“What did you think not showing up was going to do Y/N? Wash away your culture?” She was a crying mess, but it wasn’t her who should be embarrassed. “You can’t whitewash yourself into a different person.” her voice cracked with frustration before she stormed off.

It was dramatic for you to not go to the wedding and her outburst was completely justified. You had gotten the saree and even the jewellery you were going to wear. But the morning of, you stared at the outfit laid in front of you and blinked twice before stalking off.

Your family practically disowned you after you joined the Avengers. Being an assassin… it wasn’t a traditionally accepted job, to say the least. Their lack of support had turned you bitter, your angst being redirected at your culture. Slowly, you began shedding the part of your identity that still held you to them. No more music or movies in your language, no more cultural food, and no more praying.

You were ashamed. You couldn’t have sucked it up and showed up to support your friend?

Steve had overheard the entire argument. He didn’t even need super-hearing to know what was going down in the lobby. It saddened him to think that you needed to get rid of a part of yourself in order to forget about an unsupportive family. Now, it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

Tony announced another one of his parties that week. “Dress code is formal and fancy. If I see any of you show up in sweats, I’ll get your room cleaned out,” he threatened.

The day before the party, Steve showed up to your room. “Just a little something,” he looked sheepish as he handed you a bag. You thanked him and padded to your bed to open it. You looked back to call him, but Steve had bolted after giving you the gift.

The party raved on and you nervously fixed the pleats again. This is a bad idea, everyone is gonna laugh at you. You knocked on your head once, trying to get rid of the thought and made your way downstairs before you could change your mind.

Walking in, you expected people to shoot you funny looks or whisper to the nearest person. But no one cared. People smiled and continued their conversations, not bothering to make fun of you. The enamoured look that filled partygoers’ eyes was a complete contrast to what you had been telling yourself. Steve’s face lit up from seeing your outfit - a plain black saree and a gold border, paired with an exaggerated statement necklace. Simple, but so elegant. He was surprised you actually wore his gift.

“Gonna grab pop tarts!” you popped your head into the kitchen. Bucky and Steve were mid-conversation and Clint was arm-wrestling Rhodey. “There are snacks in the cupboard.” Clint strained, still trying to hold off Rhodey. “There’s nothing good there,” you mumbled and walked off. Steve called after you and you paused to let him catch up. “I’ll come with?” he asked. “Sure.”

Steve got in the car and connected to the Bluetooth while you put in the address for the store. “I made a playlist for you,” Steve mentioned as he hit play. “It has a bunch of popular songs in your language. I shared it with you on Spotify.”

You turned to look at him, unsure what to say. Even you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to do that for yourself. You learned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’.

You fell in love with Steve. It was unexpected, but how could you not see it coming? The man did everything he could to get you to embrace your culture again. While you were getting back into practising tradition, your culture was still a source of insecurity. Steve would never date a Hindu girl. He was only helping ‘cause you’re his friend. And because you’re slightly pathetic.

The battle within yourself raged on as you couldn’t make up your mind. Should you make a move... or not!?

The final straw of your resolve was washed away on a fine Friday afternoon.

You walked into the kitchen, sorting through the contents of the fridge when Steve tapped you on the shoulder.

“I know you don’t eat meat on Friday’s so I made you some vegetarian food.”

You hadn’t even realized that he noticed. But here he was, showing you that he cared, time after time, again and again. You burst into tears and clutched his shirt while the others in the kitchen tried their best to ignore you for the sake of secondhand embarrassment.

Steve pulled you into another room. “Hey, hey, love? You okay?” he questioned, trying to wipe your tears for you. “Why are you going out of your way to help me like this?” you sobbed into his chest.

At last, your dam of emotions caved in - it was time to come clean to him.

Apparently, he had the same idea. “I just don’t want you to ignore such a special part of you. Your culture sets you aside from everyone here, and that’s exactly why you should embrace it. And...” he hesitated, “I love you, Y/N.”

You hugged him as hard as you could and he wrapped his arms around your quivering figure. “I love you too Steve,” you sniffled.

“So you’ll let me make you vegetarian food every Friday?” he asked, tilting your chin up with one finger. “Yes, every Friday,” you laughed and nuzzled your head back into his chest. “For the rest of our lives?” he inquired. “For the rest of our lives,” you confirmed, looking up again to meet for a kiss.

This is for Dani’s 2021 Fic Challenge! @stuckonjbbarnes

Masterlist

Tag list: @partiesandblurrypolaroids @hitmewithyourbest-shot @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @bval-1 @quxxnxfhxll

Other tags: @mculibrary

#dani's 2021 #steve x you #steve x hindu!reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #mcu #marvel #steve x y/n #fic rec #drabble #headcanon #fluff #angst #ira writes

142 notes · View notes

thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Heck’s Masterlist

OBX Masterlist

Since some of my fics are getting long, here’s a masterlist of everything I’ve made so far in relation to Outer Banks! It will continually be updated as more fics, blurbs, and requests are added!

Also, my requests are open! I don’t generally do smut, but I’m open to mostly anything else!

JJ Maybank

Requests:

Jump - You are John B’s sister and you’ve been following him around your whole life. After deciding to make your own path, you find yourself caught up with a boy who is no good and JJ is the only one who can get you out of it.

Wedding Dress - JJ makes a promise to himself that he’s now not sure he can keep.

Run - You’re John B’s sister and after sending him off on the Phantom, it’s up to you to cover for him. But Ward Cameron is still your legal guardian and he comes to collect his property.

Ransom - John B’s sister is taken by the square groupers. In exchange for her life, they ask for the compass and a heavy ransom price. It’s a race of time as the Pogues, with the help of Sheriff Peterkin, journey into the marsh to save her life before the clock runs out.

Not So Unrequited - in the middle of an argument with your best friend, he says something to you that you had never wanted to hear.

i love you - your relationship with JJ had always been rocky, built on a mutual desire for affection. that doesn’t mean he would never break your heart.

fill the void - she always felt alone, so when he needed her most, she couldn’t resist.

promises, promises - You and JJ have an unspoken thing, passed only though stolen glances and half serious flirting. But the day after he takes the fall for Pope, you find yourself standing at a crossroads; do you step in to protect him from his dad, or do you stay out of it?

Series:

Ocean and Alcohol - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, Epilogue, Rafe’s POV) You’re a kook, but your life is less than ideal. After a fight with some of the other kooks, you let slip a little about your home life to one JJ Maybank, who is more than intrigued. (reader insert with a name, tw: abuse, canon content)

Tempest and Gin - (1, 2) The gold is gone, but Elma’s problems are just beginning. With her dad in police custody and her mom once again AWOL and refusing to pay for legal council, Elma and Ms. Lana struggle to get through the trial with a court appointed lawyer. At the end of her rope, Elma finds herself juggling friends, family, rivals, and enemies as she struggles to keep her wits about her and do the one thing she’s always done; protect Kid.

Girl With No Heartbeat - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8) After a near death experience, JJ is saved by a girl in the water. When he and the Pogues find her washed ashore the next day, they are more than surprised to discover that she isn’t your everyday girl. (mermaid/siren au, canon divergence)

Imagines:

Sweet as Honey, Hard as Steel - JJ’s girlfriend is the complete opposite of everything one would expect. A straight A student with big life goals, Elena has never been the drinking, smoking, fighting type. And JJ wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coward - Your mom just passed and your absentee father has come to collect you. But that means leaving the life you knew and loved, including your best friend (and a little more), JJ Maybank. But he isn’t ready to hear what you have to say on your last night together.

Rafe Cameron

Series:

Fire and Storm - Rafe Cameron had always wanted her. He wanted to be hers and he wanted her to be his. But she wasn’t and he was slowly beginning to realize that he never would be. (this is Rafe’s POV for a bit of another series, Ocean and Alcohol)

Requests:

Better - Secretly dating Rafe as JJ Maybank’s sister isn’t the easiest thing, especially when your brother finally learns the truth.

Imagines:

Meant to Be Yours - Rafe Cameron, your boyfriend, was more broken than you realized. He wants more from you than you can give. (based on the song “Meant to Be Yours” from Heathers the Musical)

John B

Imagines:

Girl Crush - You spent years yearning after John B, your best friend. You just didn’t realize it until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on the island...and it wasn’t you. After that, only Sarah Cameron was on your mind. (based on the song “Girl Crush”)

Tethered - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) Surfing the surge was a Pogue rite of passage. You had been waiting for the next big storm to show your older brother that you were ready to be one of them. But the storm was stronger than you or your brother could have imagined.

Just Come Home - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) You come home one day to find your brother bearing harsh news.

Series:

By Dawn - (1, 2, 3) John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message...the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her.

Sarah Cameron

Imagines:

Kie Carrera

Imagines:

For Forever - When you’re parents find out that you’ve been secretly dating your best friend, Kie, they go off on you. Afterward, she comforts you, reminding you that blood doesn’t mean family. (tw: homophobia, found family to the max)

she - As a Pogue, having a crush on Kie Carrera was almost a prerequisite. You knew that all the boys were crushing on her, at least a little bit, but accepting your own feelings for her is a different matter. (reader has a crush on Kie but isn’t really ready to admit her feelings)

Requests:

Nothing More - You’re secretly dating one of the Pogues and your brother is starting to become suspicious. The only problem; he’s fixated on the wrong friend.

Pope Heyward

Imagines:

Nothing to Prove - Pope helps you with some relationship problems. Later, while hanging out with your boyfriend, you realize that running from your fears got you nowhere and the only place you wanted to be was with Pope. (very soft)

Delivery Boy - With an absent mother and a distant father, you’ve always felt alone living in your empty house. But a certain delivery boy might be the one thing that makes running an estate worth it.

Seires:

Bare Bones - (Preview, Theory 1, Theory 2, Theory 3) Pippa Cantu has always been a little…strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

Kelce

Series:

Simple Melancholy - (2) Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce’s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to.

General (Everybody)

Imagines:

Do Not Stand - One of the Pogues passes away and leaves a message for her friends. Each of them take it in a different way.

Series:

Little Village - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, Finale) As the oldest of the Pogues and John B’s big sister, June always acted as their mother. She helped with assignments and studying, helped pay bills when it was needed, made dinner, reminded them about hygiene. But then she got pregnant and her boyfriend left and suddenly she found herself unable to do all those things she was once able to. When they say it takes a village, she wasn’t entirely sure they meant a bunch of teenagers. (post-canon, I haven’t decided who the love interest will be or if there will be one at all, so that’s why its here)

Requests:

Homeward Bound - After spending years abroad at a boarding school, Kie’s sister returns to the Outer Banks. The Pogues quickly realize that, despite her cold exterior, there is a free spirit inside her just longing to break free.

A Bunch of Love Stories Masterlist - A series of fics based on Taylor Swift’s album “Fearless”.

Outerbanks Playlist - This is just a list of songs that remind of the Pogues and other characters in the show. A few of the songs are connected to some of my fics as well!

ATLA Masterlist

Zuko

The Sun, The Moon, and the Stars - She is a non-bender from the Southern Water Tribe who somehow found herself smack in the middle of Fire Nation central, where a young prince is fighting an internal battle she hopes to help him win.

Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley

warm - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge.

Severus Snape

The Other Her - Severus Snape had two friends while he was at school. One, every body knew as Lily Evans. The other was you, an unknown student who wanted nothing more than to be noticed by your friend. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the Gryffindor heartthrob every time he mentioned her name.

Only One - You return to Hogwarts years later to watch your son’s Quidditch match, only to find yourself a little bit in over your head.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek Morgan

breathe again - he saved her life and now she has to deal with the aftermath. he’s there to help her every step of the way.

Aaron Hotchner

dark of the night - an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her.

The Musketeers (BBC) Masterlist

Porthos

enough for you - the wife of a musketeer reflects on her relationship with her husband while Porthos watches from the sidelines.

1K notes · View notes

biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 11

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 8.2K (longest one yet)

The next few days flew by in a snowy blur. Most of your time was spent wrapping gifts and packaging baked goods to deliver to family friends. You grunted as you leaned heavily on top of the Tupperware container as you shoved in more sugar cookies. This particular batch was going to Erwin's coach and his family. The sound of wrapping paper tearing made you cringe, turning around you saw Hange holding up the two uneven lengths of paper. She smiled sheepishly at you before shrugging and taping the pieces together once more. Your mom and Erwin were currently out shopping at the mall, which was a good hour away from the hick town you lived in.

You and Hange had already been out shopping the other day. It had been very stressful shopping for all your friends and family. You were glad to have gotten the ordeal over with. Although it was stressful, you had enjoyed picking out the perfect gift for your loved ones. Some highlights included: a camera lense for Armin, a set of chain necklaces for Mikasa, a turkey hat for Sasha, a safari hat for Connie, and your personal favorite was a set of fancy tea cups for Levi.

You really had outdone yourself this year, even going as far as buying Erwin supplies that he would need for College. For Hange you had purchased her a fresh set of glassware for her experiments, since she was majoring in Chemistry and enjoyed doing work outside of the classroom you thought it was a fitting gift. Hange held up her finished product proudly, judging by the size of the box you guessed it was a pair of shoes.

"I can't wait to give these to him!" she gushed as she set the box to the side and began folding a sweater that the two of you had purchased for your mom.

"Yeah I'm sure he'll love them." you agreed. You weren't the only one who had splurged this year. Hange had bought Erwin a fresh pair of cleats for his freshman season at college.

"I hope so!" she chuckled as she boxed the sweater and the pair of earrings for your mom.

"What did you ask for this year?" you asked as you set the stuffed container of cookies to the side.

"Oh nothing special." Hange waved her hand dismissively. You weren't surprised, she wasn't exactly interested in possessions. She valued knowledge above most things, so the closest you could get to filling that need was to give her books or items that helped her learn and shit. You had learned that the hard way, a few years ago you had given her a nice bracelet, which was currently collecting dust on her dresser.

"Well what about your parents, are they doing something special this year?" you inquired, you knew that she had learned to appreciate knowledge from them. They used to go on trips and spend Christmas soaking up the culture of wherever they went. One of their most notable trips was to South America, Hange's favorite trip to date. They hiked in the jungle and learned about the environment and shit.

"Aw sadly no, they wanted to take a break and focus on their research here." She shrugged as she wrapped the box in snowman wrapping paper.

"Really?" you mused, although Hange's family was unconventional you admired their free spirit.

"Yeah, I'm particularly interested in my mom's project, she's studying these penguins in South America right now-" she continued to ramble on about her mother's studies and her father's work. Both of her parents were very active in the zoology community. Hange's rant was cut short by the sound of her phone ringing, she apologized before answering the call, walking out of the room for some privacy. Which you thought was odd, she usually wasn't so private with her phone calls, which at times could be annoying. You brushed it off as most likely being a conversation about gifts. You picked up your phone, taking the opportunity to answer the text that Mikasa had sent you earlier that morning.

"We'll be over around 7." her text made you feel giddy with excitement. Although this year would be a bit different you were still excited to see all your friends.

"See you soon!" you responded, you realized that it was probably a good idea to start dinner for your mom. She should be home any minute but still you set about preheating the oven for the casserole and the ham. Thankfully the Jeagers brought dishes as well, Carla made a mean pumpkin pie. You weren't expecting Kenny to bring anything other than booze. You fell into an easy rhythm as you prepared the vegetable casserole. It couldn't have been more than an hour later that your mom and Erwin stumbled in the door and dropped the bags down by the card table where we had been wrapping gifts. Your mom was quick to wash her hands and start the mashed potatoes as you checked the ham. Hange had began to set the table with Erwin, a christmas playlist had been playing to set the mood.

The Jeagers arrived right at 7, just in time. Grisha's arms were full with gifts, Carla toted two pies, Eren held a board game, and Mikasa had two bottles of red wine with ribbons around the necks of the bottles. Hugs and formalities were exchanged as they entered and put their gifts under the tree. Carla joined your mom in the kitchen to finish carving the ham. You and the other teens finished setting the table as everyone trickled into the dining room.

Just as the ham was placed on the table and glasses of wine were poured, the doorbell rang once more. Kenny had arrived, surprisingly only thirty minutes late. He had a huge bottle of vodka and another sizable bottle of whiskey. Your mom greeted him, taking the liquor from him and pointing him to his seat. Now that all guests were accounted for you began to dish out food and recount the past holidays that your families spent together. It didn't go unnoticed that Kenny was a tad uncomfortable, but thanks to Grisha's easy going nature and Carla's friendliness, he slowly eased up. Of course you and the other teens had your own conversation separate from the adults.

"-Do you remember that one year that I creamed you guys in Just Dance?" Hange gloated as she waved a forkful of ham in Eren's face.

"Ugh yes, but only because that was the year that Mikasa's ankle was sprained." Eren deflected, lifting his own fork to push hers from his face. Mikasa blushed and shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

"Well I guess we'll just have to see if that was the real reason after a rematch!" Hange teased before biting into the hunk of meat.

"I guess we will." Eren narrowed his eyes as he watched Hange chew the meat.

"We should play Mario Kart first, I want to redeem myself." Armin was quick to change the subject. Always quick to avoid possible conflict.

"Yeah I totally creamed you last time!" you gloated a cocky smile on your lips.

"W-What! No I had the most wins!" Eren's eyes were alight with anger. He was too easy to piss off.

"Wrong!" you said in a sing song voice.

"Knock it off you two." Erwin scolded from across the table, Eren's cheeks flushed when Erwin scolded him but you simply rolled your eyes. In the last few months Erwin had taken to hovering over you and your friends. It was strange, he had never shown so much interest in your social life until recently. At first you had been eager to tell him what was going on in your friend group, but now it was becoming annoying.

"Lay off Erwin, it's all talk." you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Erwin's eyes hardened at your snarky tone, your guests eyes flickered between the two of you as you glared at one another. Until finally you snorted and looked away with a shake of your head.

"Uh...so who wants pie!" Armin, ever true to his anti confrontation nature filled the thick silence between the teens. Meanwhile the adults had continued to yammer on about all the hot hospital gossip.

"I-I would." Eren played into Armin's excuse to change the subject.

"Yeah sounds good." you sighed, defeated. Armin scrambled out of his seat and ducked into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with the pies. He dished out three pieces onto you and Eren's plates before serving himself. By the time he had returned, Hange had already changed the topic to the party the following day. You sat in silence as she rambled about the logistics for the party at your house.

"I think that Nanaba is bringing mac and cheese, Mike is probably going to bring those snicker doodles that he always makes-" You tuned her out, not interested in her current rant. Tomorrow's party wasn't the party you were really excited for. So you instead turned to Mikasa, hoping to talk about your plans for the 26th.

"So what time are you going to Annie's? Would you like to ride together?" you asked as you angled yourself to face her to better tune out Hange.

"We are heading over around 9, and sure I'm driving." Mikasa responded as she stretched to serve herself a piece of pie.

"Perfect, are you spending the night there?" you quizzed, unsure if you also wanted to spend the night there.

"No, we were going to go back to Armin's but I can drop you off here if you want." Mikasa answered as she took a bite of pie.

"Alright that sounds good!" you agreed, knowing that Mikasa was always a reliable designated driver.

Dinner had gone relatively smooth, despite the tension that now hung in the atmosphere between you and Erwin. The rest of the evening was spent in the living room opening gifts with a Christmas movie marathon playing in the background. The Jeagers left around eleven, which was later than they usually stayed. Kenny took the guest bedroom in the basement, since he was spending Christmas day with your family anyway. You checked your phone with a heavy sigh, already it was twelve am. You contemplated texting Levi to tell him happy birthday, but you weren't sure he would be awake. It was already six in the morning in France, and usually he got his three hours of sleep between four and seven in the morning. But you decided that if he didn't answer you could leave him a voicemail or shoot him a text. So after you changed into your pajamas and had snuggled beneath your covers, you pulled up Levi's contact, your thumb hovering over the small phone icon. Finally you just said 'fuck it' and pressed the button, the phone rang three times before he answered.

"Hey." his voice was thick and gravely as he spoke, immediately you felt bad. You knew that you must have woken him up and you cringed internally.

"Hey happy birthday!" you greeted, making sure to keep your voice low so you wouldn't disturb Erwin and Hange.

"Tch thanks." Levi mumbled, you pictured him running a hand down his face as he tried to wake up.

"you're welcome birthday boy." you teased as you fell back onto your pillows.

"shut up." Levi scoffed, you could hear his footsteps as he walked through the apartment, presumably to get his morning cup of black tea.

"you know you love it." you sighed.

"keep telling yourself that." Levi's voice was becoming clearer now that he was more awake.

"I think that I will." you answered with a light laugh.

"you still going to that party tomorrow?" Levi interrogated, you groaned. You had almost forgotten how he liked to stick his nose in your business, even when he was across the fucking ocean.

"Yeah what about it?" you huffed, feeling a bit defensive.

"Shouldn't you stay with your family or some shit." Levi sounded frustrated.

"My mom said I could go." you pouted childishly.

"Whatever." Levi grunted, and you frowned, unsure of where his frustration was coming form.

"Aw come on no need to be jealous, I'm sure you can find some rager in Paris. Not like you'll be missing much here." you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hmph." Levi scoffed, you could hear the tinkling of his spoon as he stirred his tea.

"So....when are you due to be home?" you asked, deciding it was best to change the subject.

"Next week." Levi's tone was clipped.

"I'm so jealous." you sighed dreamily.

"Yeah Paris is way better than Shiganshina." Levi responded nonchalantly, you weren't sure if he was being serious or sarcastic. Either way he was telling the truth.

"No need to rub it in my face." you chuckled.

"Tch." He scoffed, you liked to imagine him smiling as he did so, even if he wasn't.

"Well I hope that this next week goes by fast, as much as I hate to admit it I've... missed you." you confessed, the tips of your ears scorching hot with embarrassment. The silence was deafening as you waited for him to say something, hell anything even if it was making fun of you.

"Whatever." he huffed, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at the sound of his baritone voice.

"Just don't stay out late tomorrow." he quipped and you frowned, why did he care how late you stayed out?

"No need to worry about me, I'll probably just stay sober with Mikasa." You told him, only half honest.

"Never said I was worried about you." Levi sighed.

"Hmph fine be like that." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, not surprised with his response.

"Be like what?" He asked, genuinely curious what you meant.

"Like an ass." you quipped.

"Tch I'll quite being an ass when you stop being such a brat." Levi snapped, clearly you were approaching dangerous territory.

"Okay okay chill." you muttered, backing down before things got too heated.

"You're the one that brought it up.." Levi pointed out.

"Yeah and now I'm regretting that" you sighed, wishing he wouldn't be so stubborn for once. He sighed as well and you heard a small clatter on his end of the line, you figured he was starting the dishes.

"Look I've got some shit to do, I'll call you later okay?" Levi's voice was a tad strained and in the moment of silence you heard the sound of Isabel and Farlan bickering in hushed tones.

"Y-Yeah sure of course." you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"Happy birthday Levi." you wished him once more.

"Thanks, talk to you later brat." and with that he hung up, leaving you totally alone in your dark room. You plugged your phone in and rolled over onto your side, he could be so annoying. You inhaled sharply and decided that you would enjoy the party tomorrow to it's fullest. What he didn't know wouldn't kill him.

___

"Hey can I borrow your lip gloss?" you asked Mikasa as you leaned forward to apply another coat of mascara to your lashes.

"Sure which one?" she asked as she pulled her hair into high pigtails on top of her head.

"The cherry one." you answered after a moment of contemplation. She finished her hair before reaching into her makeup bag and pulled out the tube of clear gloss.

"Thanks." you said as you took the make up from her. You didn't usually put this much effort into your appearance when you went to parties but you figured since it was the first time you would be going to Annie's that this was a special occasion. Also you had a sneaking suspicion that two of your exes would be there and you at least wanted to look hot if you were going to get black out.

Plus Mikasa was also dressed up, she wore a tight fitting black top with long sleeves and a low cut neck line that showed off her pale collarbones and neck. She had chosen to wear a choker that had metallic studs surrounding the black leather along with some other layered necklaces. To match her top she had selected a red plaid skirt and some torn tights. You weren't dressed nearly as edgy as she was, but you too had gone for a grungier look. You'd opted to wear a tattered pair of mom jeans along with a black cropped tank and an oversized flannel to cover your shoulders.

You sighed as you finished applying the gloss and frowned, Eren and Armin were in the next room over blasting Post Malone. You assumed that Eren was on aux since Armin usually listened to Surfaces or Khalid.

"You ready?" Mikasa asked as she pulled on her Doc Martens and double checked her earrings.

"Yeah." you assured her as you stood up to grab your small backpack with an extra change of comfy clothes in case you ended up staying the night. The two of you left the room and knocked on Eren's door that was down the hall.

"Just a minute!" Armin's shrill voice sounded a bit panicked but Mikasa simply shrugged and headed towards the kitchen. The Jeager's house was a ranch style house with one main floor and a nice basement. The two of you waited patiently in the kitchen for the boys, it was already well past nine. You scrolled through your snapchat, most of the stories were the regular group picture of friends having a sleepover, the druggie kids showing off their weed, and of course Sasha and Connie posted a video showcasing the house party at Annie's. From what the short video showed, her house was dark except for some LED lights that flashed through multiple different colors. The music was deafening, and the kids that you could see seemed to be swaying to the pulsing music.Sasha spun the camera around as she knocked back a shot with her arm around Connie who blew a puff of vapor at the camera.

"Looks fun." Mikasa scoffed, you knew that she preferred more low-key parties.

"If you end up not liking it we can always dip." You shrugged, knowing that this wasn't exactly your speed either. Mikasa hummed in agreement and turned to look down the hallway as Eren's door opened. The boys emerged from Eren's room, Eren wore a pair of black jeans and a dark forrest green long sleeved shirt. Armin wore a baby blue knit sweater with a collared shirt underneath and black jeans as well.

"All set?" Mikasa asked as she turned to pull out a bottle of titos with a cute little sweater over it. You smiled at the cute accessory and nodded.

"Yep!" you said popping the p as the four of you all made your way out to Eren's car. You slid into the back seat next to Armin who was fiddling with the hem of his sweater nervously. Eren resumed his hype music as Mikasa backed out of the drive way. Eren pulled out his puff bar as soon as the car was out of the drive and took a long drag. Mikasa scoffed and cracked the window for him. He blew the billow of smoke out the window and reached to turn the music up. He reached back and dangled the puff for you to take, after a brief moment of hesitation you accepted it and cracked your window before taking a hit. Armin watched with wide eyes as you inhaled and blew the vapor out the crack.

"Since when did you vape?" Armin asked, his mouth agape in awe.

"I don't...at least not regularly." You admitted sheepishly.

"That's what they all say." Eren chuckled, smoke curling out from his lips as he smirked.

"Shut up I'm serious!" you snapped a playful smile on your face. Thankfully Annie's house wasn't far away, about a twenty minute drive. You pulled up to the house, it was huge. Standing at least three stories tall, with a long winding driveway. Mikasa pulled up behind one of the many cars in the drive way and parked the car. Mikasa led the way around to the side door, which was unlocked, piled of shoes littered the hallway. The sound of loud music greeted you as you walked into the kitchen on the main floor to set the alcohol you'd brought down. The real party was in the basement.

The lights were off, leaving the only source of light to be the flickering LED lights, you couldn't even tell who was who. The air was heavy with the mingling aromas of cologne, vapes, and weed. Armin practically clung to you as the four of you waded through the crowd to get to the seating area in the center of the room. As you got closer the overpowering scent of weed assaulted your nose. There on the large L shaped couch was Annie, she held a large bong to her lips as Bertolt held the lighter under the weed, she inhaled deeply and the bong bubbled. She pulled back and blew a puff of smoke right in Reiner's face, the blonde's face scrunched up in disgust as he turned away to cough.

"Yo." Annie greeted Mikasa who leaned down to dap her up. Once Annie had greeted Mikasa she turned her attention to Eren who was eyeing the bong.

"You want a drag?" Annie offered, patting the sofa next to her. Eren nodded and dropped down between her and Bertolt, who once again struck the lighter for Eren. Mikasa rolled her eyes and waited patiently for Eren to finish his drag. Once the bong was out of the way she lowered herself down onto his lap and pulled her puff bar out to take a long drag. Armin shifted awkwardly behind you and tugged on your sleeve.

"Want to go get something to drink?" he yelled over the booming music, you glanced at the bong longingly but decided that Armin needed you right now so you nodded in agreement.

"Sure." the two of you pushed through the crowd to the minibar where an impressive amount of liquor was waiting. You poured some Bacardi into a glass of and added some pineapple and orange concentrates before handing the cup to Armin. He thanked you and quickly got to work on finishing the mixed drink. You poured yourself a rum and coke and then two shots of Malibu for you and Armin to take. The two of you knocked back the shots before wandering back over towards the couch. The crowd had thinned out a bit, something about watching a movie in Annie's in home movie theater.

"-No that's bullshit, I know for a fact that you pissed your pants in the second grade Eren!" your eyebrows shot into your hairline at the words leaving Annie's mouth.

"Just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I don't notice shit." She huffed as she lifted the juul in her hand to her lips and took a long drag.

"I-"

"Just take the L Eren we all remember." Bertolt shook his head and chuckled at Eren's flushed cheeks. You glanced at Mikasa, usually she would defend Eren but she seemed content to let him struggle through this one on his own, still perched on his lap.

"We've all had accidents before." Armin said with an awkward chuckle as he sat down beside Annie, who looked at him with a blank expression.

"Like that time you tripped down the stairs and broke both your legs in fourth grade?" Annie quipped, a small smirk curling onto her lips. You choked on your drink at Annie's remark, she was an absolute savage.

"Exactly..." Armin flushed, lifting his own cup to his lips. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you were too invested in the conversation to be bothered to pick it up.

"Want a hit?" Annie offered the bong to you, you nodded. Although you'd never had weed before, you'd tried asking Levi for some of his but he always denied you. Annie held her hand out to Bertolt who placed the lighter in his open palm. She packed some more weed into the bowl before handing you the bong.

"You ever done this before?" She asked as she kneeled in front of you. You shook your head,

"Okay so I'll tell you when to inhale, and you've got to take a huge breath so you can get the smoke in your system. But then you'll have to take another breath to get it in your lungs." she instructed as she pressed the weed deeper into the bowl.

"Okay." you agreed, she nodded and struck the lighter, holding the flame over the weed in the bowl. You pressed your lips to the mouth piece and waited for her instructions.

"Inhale." she said once the weed was lit. You sucked in a big breath and the water in the bong bubbled. The smoke burned the insides of your throat as you inhaled it, you pulled the bong off your mouth and sucked in once more to get the smoke into your lungs. She nodded in approval as you coughed, smoke curling out of your mouth.

"Not bad for your first time." she commented as she took the bong from you and passed it to Mikasa who took a long drag before passing it to Bertolt.

"Thanks, that stuff burns." you coughed, Annie sat down next to you on the couch and draped her arm over the back. You felt the buzz from the weed and the shots you'd taken earlier, making your head spin a bit. Annie's thigh brushed against your own, you tried to focus on what she was wearing, a pair of grey sweats and a cute cropped peachy colored tank top with spaghetti straps.

"I like your top." you complimented, her hand fell from the back of the couch to your shoulders.

"Thanks." she said, turning to gauge your reaction to her touch. You swallowed a bit nervously, you'd known Annie since kindergarten, but you'd never really been friends before, she was always so quiet.

"I always thought you were a good kid." Annie smirked, her eyes a bit playful.

"What made you think that?" You giggled, shuffling closer to her.

"Your brother is like the school's golden boy, and you are always in all the honors classes." she shrugged, you frowned. You were used to people coming up with these assumptions. She was right though, you did take honor classes, but that didn't mean you couldn't party!

"I guess...But that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy partying." you countered.

"I suppose." she chuckled, taking a hit from her juul and blowing the smoke away from your face. Your phone rang in your pocket and you frowned, as you dug it out of your pocket. Your frown deepened at the sight of Hange's contact lighting up your screen.

"Hang on I should take this." you apologized, moving to stand up to find a quiet place to answer the phone. Annie snatched your wrist and pulled you back down on the sofa, the room spun as you fell back down and slumped against her shoulder.

"Slow down there sweetheart." Annie chuckled as you leaned against her.

"I got to go answer my-"

"Nah just stay here, enjoy yourself." Annie pulled you closer, but your head was too foggy to protest, thoughts of your phone already fading into the back of your mind as Annie held the bong to your lips once more.

"She's still not answering." Hange chewed on her knuckle as she glanced at Erwin who was gripping the steering wheel. His brows were knit tightly together with worry, Levi shifted in the back seat, tapping his fingers impatiently.

"This is stupid, she can wait until tomorrow to see me." Levi huffed, trying his best to sound indifferent.

"Oh don't say that Levi." Hange frowned as she looked back at Levi, her eyes deep with worry.

"Don't worry about it." Levi grunted, turning his attention back to his phone. He opened snapchat, and scrolled through the stories. His eyes widened slightly when he stopped on Sasha's story, the video of the party played, he found himself looking for your silhouette among the swaying bodies. He tapped on his screen, expecting to move on to the next story, only to find a new video, added to her story less than ten minutes ago. A video of you with a red solo cup in one hand, and a juul in the other. You were leaned up against a blonde girl who was pushing a bottle of Pink Whitney against you, the pink alcohol sloshing in the glass.

"Come on (Y/n) finish it off!" Sasha encouraged as the other kids on the couch picked up on her chant.

"Finish it, Finish it." the crowd cheered as you sat down the cup and took the bottle from the blonde. You looked at the camera as Sasha shuffled closer.

"No pa-paparazzi please." you giggled, hiccuping half way through your sentence. You lifted the bottle to your lips and tilted your head back, the liquid spilled down your front, making your skin glisten in the colorful lights as you chugged the alcohol you managed to get in your mouth.

"Fuck yeah!!!" Sasha jeered, spinning the camera around to her face. The video ended and Levi felt his blood boil. He'd never seen you so out of it before and he hated it. He hated how easily you had given into doing something so stupid, he hated the sight of the juul in your fist, he hated the way the girl's arm was tightly wrapped around your waist, but most of all he hated that he wasn't there.

"Wait, I think Sasha's snap map is on." Hange mumbled, her phone screen casting a pale glow over her glasses as she zoomed in on Sasha's bitmoji. Sure enough Sasha's bitmoji was on the map, surrounded by at least twenty other bitmojis gathered in one location.

"Okay let's head that way then." Erwin sighed as he started the car and backed out of his parking spot in the airport parking lot. Erwin pulled out of the small airport that was about thirty minutes away from your town and set off towards Annie's house. Thankfully Annie lived on the outskirts of town so it wasn't as far of a drive. It wasn't long before Erwin was pulling up a long winding drive that was full of cars. He parked at the back of the line of cars and got out of the car with a heavy slam of his door. Levi slammed the back door of the minivan as hard as he could, the two of them marched up the driveway silently with Hange following nervously.

"You guys please slow down it's icy out here." Hange begged as she slipped on one of the steps to the side door. The three of them piled into the house, Hange knew it was bad when Levi didn't bother to kick his shoes off before continuing towards the basement steps. Erwin stormed down the steps, the music getting louder as they descended. Erwin paused at the bottom of the steps to take in the scene, cups littered the floor, the room was hazy with smoke from juuls and the scent of weed clung to the air. A group of partygoers was crowded onto the couch, Levi's eyes narrowed onto the back of your head.

"Yoooo that's ice cold." Eren's loud voice could be heard over the music as the teens passed the bong between one another.

"No it's the truth." you slurred, the empty bottle of alcohol still in your fist.

"Well sorryyy that I forgot that I had gum in my mouth." Connie said, waving his hands in front of his face.

"You're an idiot." Sasha laughed boisterously as she shoved a handful of pretzels into her mouth.

"damn straight." Annie agreed, taking the empty bottle from you and setting it on the coffee table. Erwin stalked across the room and stood behind Bertolt, who was now on the floor. The conversation came to a halt at the sight of the uninvited guests.

"Woah I think I'm seeing things." you said, tilting your head downwards as you tried to understand why you were seeing your brother.

"Me too." Reiner agreed, his own distant gaze honing in on his team captain.

"Get up we're going home." Erwin's voice was cold and commanding as he glowered at you.

"I don't wanna leave." your eyes hardened with denial. Erwin stepped over Bertolt, once he had moved your eyes landed on Levi, who was glaring at you with those dark eyes.

"I'm definitely seeing things." you grunted as Erwin pulled you off the couch and away from Annie's warmth.

"Hey man she said she didn't want to go." Annie snarled, jumping to her feet, her icy blue eyes sharp.

"Yeah well she's drunk as shit and doesn't know what she's saying." Levi snapped back at Annie, who had a hand clamped down around your arm. Hange shifted nervously behind the couch as she watched the scene unfold.

"You need to leave." Annie growled, pointing a finger at the stairs.

"That's what we're trying to do dumb ass." Levi growled, taking a step closer to the circle of teens.

"Leave her alone she can make her own decisions." Reiner quipped, rising to his own feet.

"Stay out of this Braun." Erwin ordered, releasing you so he could turn and face Reiner.

"I'm just saying, she chose to come here on her own and she's enjoying herself so let her be." Reiner shrugged.

"She's had enough tonight." Erwin countered, shifting his gaze back to you as you swayed on your feet.

"No I haven't" you frowned up at Erwin.

"Yes you have. We're leaving end of discussion." he said with finality, once more reaching for your wrist.

"I'm not leaving Erwin." you protested, pulling yourself free from his grasp. He snatched your wrist once more and tugged you away from the circle. You gasped and stumbled after him, the protests of your friends echoing loudly in your head. Erwin hauled you up the stairs and out the side door, Levi and Hange close on your heels. He only slowed once you were walking down the driveway. You wrenched yourself free once more with a strangled cry.

"I said I don't want to leave!" you screamed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

"You always embarrass me in front of my friends just give me this one night!" you cried, the cold air making your face beet red.

"You'll thank me later." He said simply before turning to continue down the driveway.

"No I won't I'm going back inside." you turned on your heel and marched back towards the door, only for Levi to catch your wrist.

"You've had enough for one night." He scolded as you struggled against his hold. Hange chewed on her bottom lip with worry at the sight, this was not how she planned your reunion.

"Levi let me go." you said with finality as you met his eyes.

"No, you're going home." Levi's voice was tense.

"No I'm not."

"(Y/n) you're going home and that's final." Erwin sighed, running a hand down the side of his face. You spun around and glared at him.

"You're not my fucking dad Erwin so quit acting like it! Jesus it's so annoying I'm tired of it!" you screamed, your chest heaving with frustration, your breath coming out with puffs of vapor. Hange and Levi stood deathly still, knowing that the topic of your father was a sensitive one.

"Fine be that way." Erwin snarled and marched to the van and climbed in with a slam of his door. Hange rushed to get in the car without a second glance over her shoulder. Levi remained firmly rooted to the ground, his hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist as you cried.

"Get out of here Levi." you sobbed, shaking your arm to throw his hand off. He finally let you go, his head tilted down to the ground. You huffed, wrapping your arms around your chest before turning on your heel and stalking back towards the house. Levi stood there a moment longer just listening to the sound of your receding footsteps before he padded back to Erwin's car and slid into the backseat.

Your head was spinning as you pressed your back against the bathroom door, your lip quivering as you tried to contain your tears. You knew that you'd hurt both Erwin's and Levi's feelings, you also knew that they were only trying to help you. But there was only so much help you could except from them without them toeing the line between helpful and overbearing. You slid down the door with a whimper, you hugged you knees to your chest and rested your chin on top of them. A knock startled you out of your moping,

"(Y/n)? You in there?" You groaned when you recognize Jean's voice.

"Open the door please." He said softly and you felt more tears fall down your cheeks as you reached up for the knob to unlock the door. The lock clicked and you shuffled to lean agains the wall so he could open the door.

"Hey" he said as he stuck his head in, his amber eyes soft with worry.

"Hey" you sniffled, turning your head up to meet his gaze.

"What's wrong?" He asked, slipping into the small bathroom and closing the door behind him. He crouched down in front of you, his elbows propped on his own knees as he got onto your level.

"Well for starters, you kissed someone else when we were talking." you said a bit venomously. He cringed and plopped down to sit criss cross applesauce instead.

"I'm sorry I know that I shouldn't have done that but, I've been really confused....like sexually I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and your frowned.

"I know, but it still hurt my feelings." you mumbled, a few fresh tears falling from your watery eyes.

"I shouldn't have led you on like that, it was a real jerk move." Jean agreed, his eyes still soft and comforting. You'd missed being his friend you realized as you sat on the cold tile.

"I've missed talking to you." you spoke your mind, managing a small smile.

"Me too, let's be friends again?" he proposed, offering his hand to you. Your smile grew wider as you extended your own hand to grasp his. You shook hands briefly.

"So are you and Marco a couple now?" you asked.

"Sort of.." Jean chuckled.

"You want to go back to the party now?" He asked, jutting a thumb towards the door. You nodded, although now you were beginning to sober up. He stood and offered his hands to help you to your feet. You accepted his hands and he pulled you to your feet. The two of you walked slowly down the steps to rejoin the circle of teens in the living room. Jean stopped at the bottom of the stairs his hand held loosely in your own. He squeezed your hand, asking for your attention. You turned and faced him, a questioning look on your face.

"You've got some-" He chuckled, lifting his thumb to his mouth and licking it before wiping away some rogue mascara off your cheeks. You gasped in mock offense as he wiped away the makeup.

"You're not my mom." you teased, pulling your face free as you turned to head back into the fray, trusting that Jean got all the black marks off your face.

"Nobody could replace Angie." Jean agreed as he followed you into the basement. The group of previously rowdy teens was now subdued due to your brother and his meddling party crasher friends.

"Hey look who's back!" Reiner greeted, causing all the heads to turn back to you. You smiled sheepishly and dropped back into your seat next to Annie.

"You alright?" She asked, her eyes scanning you meticulously for any signs of injury.

"Yeah I'm- I'll be alright." you stumbled over your words as the group watched you carefully.

"You want a uh beer or something?" Connie asked, lifting up an unopened can.

"No she doesn't you idiot!" Sasha snapped, elbowing Connie harshly.

"Ow well I was just trying to make her feel better!" Connie cried, turning to tackle Sasha. The two began to tussle, rolling around on the floor grunting as they struggled. You smiled, the pair never failed to make you happy. Annie draped her arm over you again as the boys began to place bets on who would come out victorious.

"If Sasha wins you've got to drink one of Connie's mixed drinks!" Eren said, leaning over to Bertolt who scoffed, his boyish features contorting with disgust. Connie was known for making the worst mixed drinks.

"You're on Jeager." he reached over Reiner and the two shook in agreement before turning their attention to the scuffle.

"Come on Sasha!" Eren jeered as Sasha bit down hard on Connie's hand. The boy yelped and tried to desperately pry her locked jaws off his hand. He gave up quickly and resorted to hitting her head with his closed fist, his face wild with panic.

"Tickle her neck" Mikasa suggested as she lifted a red solo cup to her lips. Your eyes widened in surprise, Mikasa usually kept quiet during these scuffles, unless of course it was Eren being thrown around. Connie's free hand flew down to Sasha's armpit and immediately Sasha released his other hand to roll away from him. Connie regained the upper hand, pinning Sasha beneath him as he tickled her ruthlessly. Jean groaned and slapped a wad of bills into Reiner's open palm as Sasha slapped the ground in defeat. Connie threw his hands into the air and rolled off Sasha who was fighting for breath.

"Traitor" she moaned, her brown eyes glaring at Mikasa who shrugged indifferently. Eren groaned and frowned at Mikasa.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked as Bertolt looked relieved. Mikasa shrugged once more a sly smile on her face as Eren pushed her off his lap.

"So" Connie jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together.

"About that drink." he turned and strutted over to the mini bar, followed by a sulking Eren and a smug Bertolt. You turned to Sasha who was now straddling Mikasa her hands around Mikasa's shoulders as she jostled the girl.

"Come on Mikasa why'd you sell me out like that?" she whined as she shook the girl, Mikasa's drink sloshing in her cup. Mikasa smiled as her eyes drifted to the group of boys, Connie had a large bottle of Tito's and a two liter of Mt. Dew in his hands as he inspected the two, his face scrunched up with concentration.

"Come on Sasha it's not like you wouldn't do the same if it were me." Mikasa scoffed with a roll of her eyes. You snorted at Mikasa's response, knowing that she was indeed correct. Sasha gasped and shook Mikasa harder.

"I would never do that to you! Besides you would win in any fight you fought." Sasha objected, leaning back on Mikasa's lap her arms extended.

"Psh whatever." Annie scoffed, a playful smirk on her lips.

"Not all of us are masters at kickboxing." Sasha pouted as she climbed off Mikasa's lap and dropped onto the empty space next to her. You knew that Mikasa had participated in the sport for the past few years, but you were confused when Sasha looked between Annie and Mikasa.

"What you didn't know?" Annie asked with a smirk. You shook your head,

"No I guess I don't know." you laughed as Annie licked her lips and she threw her arm back over your shoulders.

"Mikasa and I are on the same kickboxing club." She shrugged as you settled back into her side. Your mouth opened into an 'o' shape in realization as Annie dug her juul out of her pocket and took a hit. Mikasa nodded in agreement, her eyes shifting back over to the boys, who were laughing loudly as Eren chugged a cup of mystery liquid.

"Really? I had no idea." you said as you followed Mikasa's gaze. Eren was now leaned over gagging as Armin patted his back with a worried expression.

"-You dodged a bullet there!" Reiner quipped as he patted Bertolt's back as the tall boy watched with a disgusted face.

"Hey where did Ymir and Krista run off to?" Sasha asked, whipping her head around to look for the pair.

"Probably making out in some corner." Reiner scoffed as he dropped back onto the sofa, the rest of the boys rejoining the group as well. You nodded in agreement, it was no secret that the pair had been seeing each other recently.

"Guess so." Sasha sighed, slumping back into the sofa, throwing a glare at Connie who was now seated next to her with an arm over the back of the couch. Eren and Armin were the only once unaccounted for, you assumed that they had fled to the bathroom given the state Eren had been in after drinking Connie's concoction. Jean had managed to slip away with all the commotion, probably to return to Marco. Annie sighed, glancing at her phone with a frown, it was well past three at this point and you were starting to feel the fatigue.

"Well I think that I'm heading off to bed." Annie yawned, the others seemed to be mellowing out as well.

"You guys can crash here or my brother's room is open as well as my sisters rooms." She said as she stood up. You immediately missed her warmth as she lingered by the couch.

"I call Eric's room!" Sasha perked up, also standing up to run towards Annie's younger brother's room.

"No fair!" Connie yelled, giving chase. Mikasa sighed and stood up as well.

"I'd better go check on Eren and Armin." She mumbled as she stalked off towards the bathroom.

"Are you staying the night then?" Annie asked you as you also stood up, not sure if you should go after Mikasa.

"I'm not sure, Mikasa was going to take me back to her place..."

"You can sleep in my room with me." She offered, tilting her head towards the stairs. You bit your lip as you weighed your options. Mikasa had been drinking and smoking and you knew that she wasn't stupid enough to drive so you figured that you weren't leaving any more.

"We'll sleep in Sarah's room." Reiner said as he and Bertolt began to retreat up the stairs. Leaving just you and Annie in the basement living room, she raised a brow as she waited for your answer.

"No pressure." She said as she began to walk towards the stairs.

"Yeah I'll sleep with you." you blurted as you jogged to catch up to Annie. She smirked at your wording and you flushed.

"Not like that!" you slapped her arm as she led the way up to the top floor which was a maze of closed doors. She slipped into one of the closed doors, into a large bedroom with a queen sized bed in the center of the room. She emptied her pockets before climbing into bed, pulling the covers back for the both of you. You slid into the open side and sat your phone on the bedside table. Annie sighed with relief as she nestled into the covers, scrolling through her phone as you closed your eyes in an attempt to sleep. After a few minutes Annie put her phone down and rolled over, now her front was facing your back.

"You awake?" She whispered, you rolled over to face her as well.

"Yeah" you answered, resting your head on your arm as you focused on her features as best as you could in the dim lighting.

"You wanna make out?" she asked, your eyes widened in shock. You weren't sure if she was being serious or not.

"For real?" you blinked rapidly as Annie shuffled closer and pushed a lock of hair out of your face.

"I mean yeah." she huffed a shy smile on her face. You pursed your lips in thought, you had never kissed a girl before, and it wasn't like the thought of doing so had never crossed your mind. You shrugged and leaned slightly into her touch.

"Yes or no." She said as she propped herself up on her elbow so she was looking down on you.

"Sure." you agreed, she leaned down as soon as the words left your lips. Her lips were so soft compared to the boys that you'd kissed in the past. Her hand that had been in your hair now traced over your cheek bones as she licked your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for her to slip her tongue in, the taste of weed and pink whitney mingling on her breath. You met her tongue a bit timidly as she licked your bottom teeth. She pulled back after a moment to readjust herself so that she was now laying down on top of you, caging you in her arms as she leaned down to kiss your chin.

"You're so cute." she mused, her lips pressed against the corner of your mouth.

"You're really pretty" you breathed as her lips hovered over your own once more before connecting her lips with yours once more.

108 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 22

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 21

Next Chapter: Chapter 23

Songs mentioned or quoted are Atlas, Rise by Metallica and Red Cold River by Breaking Benjamin

‘What about the opening above us?’ Cordelia asked. ‘If the water level rises enough, we can escape. I can cut through the bars with cortana.’

‘Are you sure it’s not just another magic barrier cortana won’t help us with?’

The water reached Cordelia’s neck now, and soon she wouldn’t be able to stand in it. The rising of the water level was becoming faster and faster. There was probably a puzzle down there somewhere, but it was too dark underwater, and quite possibly too late. The only way out was up.

‘No I’m not, but unless you think of anything else, it’s the best we’ve got.’

The water rose higher and Cordelia could no longer reach the floor. She was thankful that Lucie had taken her swimming in the past days and she knew how to keep her head above the water. Alastair was struggling a bit more with the change in level.

‘Make sure to keep your head above the water,’ Cordelia said, clutching cortana with both hands.

‘Genius, Cordelia,’ Alastair bit back. ‘Whatever would I do without your advice? It would never have occurred to me to keep my head above the water.’

Cordelia took his sarcasm as a good sign. Drowning people couldn’t speak. It wasn’t like in the movies where people yelled and waved.

When the water level was high enough to reach the bars, she started hacking at them. Parts of the bars fell beside her into the water. One hit her shoulder. She yelped in pain, but she could still move it. Nothing broken. It would probably bruise, but that was all.

She continued hacking at the bars until she was sure the opening was big enough, and turned cortana back into her necklace so she would have her hands free. The water had stopped rising about a foot beneath the surface. She grabbed what remained of the bars and pulled herself up, climbing out of the hole. When she was out, she extended her hand to Alastair and helped pull him out. Strands of his hair had gotten wet, but he’d gone a pretty good job at keeping his head above the water. The rest of him was soaked to the bone. As was Cordelia, including most of her hair. She was shivering and the air was cold as ever in the land in between. She felt like she would never get warm again. Alastair was shivering too, his arms wrapped around his body.

‘Do you have any idea how to get back to the ruins?’ Cordelia asked.

They were in the middle of the woods.

‘I just need to align directions underground with directions here. Give me a moment.’

Alastair sat down, and closed his eyes, going through his memory to navigate. Cordelia had never considered the use of his ability for navigation, but without it she would never have found her way through the maze.

‘Alright, I’ve got it. We have to go that way.’

Cordelia followed her brother quietly, until he stopped, holding his hand out to stop her from moving forward.

‘Do you hear that?’

Cordelia frowned, tried to focus on her hearing. Nothing. ‘Hear what?’

‘The siren’s song. Grace is here and we don’t have her skin yet. If we come any closer, we’ll be under her spell.’

Focused, Cordelia could make out something that sounded like singing, but it could just as easily be the wind. Alastair’s hearing had always been a bit sharper than hers. Sounds were often much louder when she was in his memory, and he tended to avoid loud noises. Except for his favorite music, which for some reason tended to be very loud.

‘So we have to get the key back to the dungeon with Grace’ skin and avoid hearing the song,’ Cordelia concluded. ‘How do we do that?’

Alastair took his phone out of his pocket. Even with careful use of the flashlight it still had a decent battery, whereas Cordelia’s phone was almost dead. He then took out a pair of unusually clean earbuds, and handed them to her, while at the same thing doing something with his phone, his long fingers carefully moving over the display.

Cordelia stared at the earbuds but didn’t do anything with them.

‘I cleaned them yesterday and haven’t used them since.’

‘I know they’re clean. But I don’t think this is enough to block out Grace’ voice. They’re not exactly noise cancelling headphones.’

Alastair used to have those at home, but they’d broken. Much later Alastair had told her Father had broken them while he was drunk. Cordelia wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, but she knew it must have hurt. Alastair had an odd attachment to his belongings and was extremely careful with everything he owned, something everyone in the family knew about. Something Father knew. Cordelia wasn’t completely sure if their father broke things on purpose or by accident when he was drunk, but it was never father’s belongings that mysteriously broke.

‘It’s not, but it would be with some music on.’

Cordelia put the buds in her ears and Alastair put on a playlist on his phone. She realized he’d been making a playlist for her, probably with the loudest songs he could think of. Noise filled her ears, and Cordelia thought if she put the volume any louder she’d get hearing damage. How Alastair could listen to this, she had no idea.

She could see Alastair’s lips move, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She pulled out one earbud.

‘What?’

‘You couldn’t hear me.’

‘No, not over that horrible noise you call music.’

‘Excuse me, that is Atlas Rise by Metallica. It’s a very good song.’

‘It’s just loud drums and guitars,’ Cordelia protested.

‘But it works,’ Alastair said. ‘If you couldn’t hear me, you won’t hear her song. I’ll wait here, I only have one pair of earbuds and if she controls me I’ll probably be a danger to you.’

‘What if the entrance is also flooded?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I mean, I can swim, but I don’t think your phone will survive that.’

‘It won’t,’ Alastair agreed. ‘And if you’re really unlucky you might get yourself electrocuted.’

‘I think that only happens when a charging phone falls into the water,’ Cordelia said. ‘But no amount of rice will be able to resurrect your phone if I take it into the water.’

‘So if you have to go into the water, try to just put down the phone somewhere I can find it later, and be quick about it. I think down there you won’t hear Grace either, we could only hear Thomas when he was shouting into the entrance. And if you end up losing or breaking my phone… Well, it was old anyway.’

It was very unlike Alastair to be alright with her losing or breaking his things, but she guessed he understood this was an emergency.

‘Don’t die, Layla,’ he said. ‘You get that skin.’

Cordelia put the earbuds back in, and she wondered why Alastair liked this so much. She broke into a run, she could see the ruins from here. She could see Tatiana and Grace, walking toward the ruins, and toward Lucie and Thomas. She had to get there first.

She couldn’t hear anything but Alastair’s music, and she had to admit it was working. This probably blocked out Grace better than Taylor Swift did. There’s not a thing I cannot make you do, Grace had said. But her magic didn’t work if Cordelia couldn’t hear her.

Die as you suffer in vain, own all the grief and the pain

Cordelia began to get an idea why Alastair was drawn to music like this, even if she couldn’t understand why he found it so soothing. He usually couldn’t stand loud noises and he used to wear his noise cancelling headphones whenever their mother was using the vacuum cleaner because he found it too loud.

By the time Cordelia reached the ruins, Tatiana and Grace had already reached Lucie and Thomas. There was a woman with them, a woman who greatly resembled Tatiana. Cordelia hid behind a tree, it was better if Tatiana didn’t see her until she could make a run for the skin.

The unfamiliar woman looked at Tatiana, distraught, and said something to her. Cordelia couldn’t hear a thing over Alastair’s music. Tatiana sneered something at the woman. Did they know each other? Cordelia didn’t think they were on good terms. Tatiana turned to Grace and said something to her. Grace rolled her eyes before responding. Tatiana muttered something before turning her attention back to the other woman, who said something that clearly distraught Tatiana.

Cordelia couldn’t hear a thing though. I can’t feel anything at all, this love has led me to the end, was all she heard, mixed with try to find a reason to live. Alastair’s music really was angsty.

The woman appeared gentle, caring even towards Tatiana, but Tatiana accepted none of her kindness, instead yelling something at her.

‘If you did, if you were really a mother, you’d understand I’d do anything for my son.’ She yelled loud enough that Cordelia could make out her words.

Tatiana was distracted, and Cordelia took her chance. She sprinted towards the trap door.

‘Stop her!’ Tatiana yelled, and she saw Thomas and Lucie come for her from the corner of her eye.

Cordelia was faster though. She reached the trap door, and realized the hall was indeed flooded. She removed the earbuds and dropped Alastair’s phone. She would buy him a new one if it broke, she decided. Hopefully she could find the money somewhere. Hopefully it wasn’t broken. She dived into the water, and underneath Grace’s voice was too distorted, too far away. She felt a hand around her ankle, grabbing her. The hand was big and firm, Thomas? Cordelia struggled against the grip, kicking back with her free foot. She hit someone’s chest, several times until the person had no choice but to let go.

Cordelia swum into the deep. She could barely see anything and realized there was no air in here. If she didn’t get to the skin before she was out of breath she was doomed. She would drown in here.

Her lungs began to burn for air, but Cordelia gripped the key tightly, and pushed it into where the door had been. The magic barrier lifted and the key broke just like all the other keys she’d found. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. She could enter. Cordelia swum through, and grabbed the skin. Now to get back up. She turned around, and desperately swam up. She could see the light, and that’s where she needed to go. She gasped for air as soon as she was up, and now she could finally hear Grace’ singing. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, certainly more beautiful than Alastair’s music.

Cordelia would do anything for her, but there was nothing Grace asked for right now. Cordelia climbed out of the trap hole, holding the skin in front of her. She would do anything for the siren, and she knew there was nothing Grace wanted more then the skin Cordelia was holding.

‘Grace! I have brought you what you asked for.’

Grace turned to look at her, and noticed the skin. She stopped singing.

‘What are you doing?’ Tatiana yelled.

Grace ran to Cordelia, and took hold of her skin, draping it around her shoulders like a cloak. Here she would be unable to turn into a seal, or at the very least it would be unpractical, but she was in control again.

‘You cannot control me anymore, Tatiana,’ Grace said.

Tatiana looked scared. She hesitated for a moment, but before Grace could do anything to stop her, Tatiana disappeared into a cloud of darkness. When had she learnt such magic? It must have been part of the deal she’d made with the thief of souls.

Lucie and Thomas broke free of the spell, and a few moments later Alastair appeared from behind the trees, still soaked to the bone and teeth clattering.

‘I came as soon as I heard she stopped singing. Is no one hurt?’

‘What happened to you?’ Thomas asked. ‘I saw the place flood, was there another exit?’

‘The key was a trap,’ Alastair said. ‘The room locked us in and then flooded, but there was a barred opening at the top. Cordelia cut through it with cortana so we could get out.’

‘How were you immune to my song?’ Grace asked Cordelia. ‘I kept trying to get you to stop. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t listen. But I don’t understand how you did it.’

Cordelia grinned. ‘I couldn’t hear you. My brother’s music taste is loud and heavy and I was listening to some music on his phone.’

Alastair looked around and picked up his phone and earbuds from next to the trap door. Cordelia desperately hoped she hadn’t broken anything.

Grace nodded. ‘I presume that is the modern version of putting wax in one’s ears.’

‘You will be returning to the sea, I guess?’ Cordelia asked.

‘As soon as I can. I’m glad to see the witch unlocked some of her potential. And I suspected that strange memory ability would be useful in navigating the puzzles to my skin. The rules of this land say there must be a solution to the puzzle, so Tatiana just made it as complicated as she could in the time she had. Be glad she’s been so busy, or it would have been twice as big.’

‘I think that was plenty,’ Alastair said.

‘But you solved it.’

‘Now that you’re free, can you tell us what Tatiana is up to?’

‘I cannot tell you everything, because I do not know all she is up to. I know her main goal is to resurrect Jesse, I know it cost her much to bring back his ghost and it will cost more to bring him to life. She has been an assassin of sorts for the thief of souls, collecting souls he deems interesting. My help made that a lot easier, she forced me to use my powers to make people kill themselves. I know eventually Thomas will die if she is not stopped, to replace Jesse, but only once he lives.’

‘Is there any way to help both Thomas and Jesse?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not unless you destroy the thief of souls himself,’ Grace said.

‘What is he, exactly?’ Lucie asked.

‘From what I’ve heard, he was once a mortal man who sought eternal life. He found a gateway to another realm where he could live forever and gather power through collecting souls. It’s not where the dead are supposed to go, but he takes them. Once he could draw people in at will, it depends on how strong the seal is. Now he only gets them when he makes deals with humans in exchanges for souls he finds interesting. I think it makes a difference if the soul is offered by someone closely connected to them, because he likes to ask for family members, loved ones. I think that when you offer a soul not related by blood, you have to kill them, but when you offer a soul related by blood, the thief can use the connection to find them himself. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but that’s why he needed Tatiana to be an assassin whereas he killed Jesse himself.

He can give magic away. Magic similar to what Lucie can do, that’s why Tatiana can see Jesse, and why she allowed me to see Jesse, so I could help her watch him. But his magic can also create sickness, cause people to disappear, the kind of thing Tatiana’s father did to his rivals. He doesn’t usually reach into our world without a blood connection, that’s why he can’t just kill at random.’

‘He created my sickness, didn’t he?’ Thomas asked.

‘I think it is not uncommon for those promised to him to develop a sickness,’ Grace said. ‘What happened to you and Jesse is a bit less common, I think, because he waited so long to collect. I think it’s because he suspected Tatiana could become useful to him, and he wanted to see just how far she’d go for him when he was sick. As for you, I think there was much he could learn about your family as well by keeping you sick. It was a good way to weigh which boy would to choose. Which soul would be more valuable, but also whose parents might deal with him. It became obvious Tatiana would go very far for her child with no care for who else got hurt, and so he chose Jesse. Because he knew she would do everything to bring him back.’

‘Just like you thought,’ Thomas said to Alastair.

‘Souls are the price of his game,’ Alastair said and Cordelia could tell he was thinking of something, but couldn’t tell what.

‘But they don’t know about me?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not yet,’ Grace said. ‘But it’s only a matter of time until they find out.’

‘Do you know why the thief of souls collects souls?’ Alastair asked. ‘Do they have a use for him?’

‘I think the more souls he collects, the more powerful he becomes,’ Grace said. ‘I’m not sure why it matters who. Of course, there will always be souls more interesting than others. I think the four or you would be more interesting than a hundred boring average people. And the connection to the people who offer the souls matter too. I think he draws power from bonds of family, or love.’

‘But how much love can there be if you’re willing to sacrifice someone for power,’ Alastair wondered.

Cordelia had to agree, if someone was willing to sacrifice a relative or a spouse for power, they couldn’t love them very much, could they? But perhaps it wasn’t so much about love as it was about the connection. Besides, love lay close to hate, much closer than people thought. Cordelia had learnt that indifference was the real opposite of love.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Grace said. ‘The thief of souls only takes humans. My kind doesn’t have souls. Instead, when we die we turn into sea foam.’

That sounded rather horrifying. Wasn’t that what happened in the original little mermaid?

‘Do all mermaids, or selkies, know about this?’ Cordelia asked. ‘Or did you find out from Tatiana?’

‘We know stories, rumors,’ Grace said. ‘But with Tatiana I realized it was real. Even if she never told me anything, I learnt plenty by being around her.’

‘How long were you with her, exactly?’ Thomas asked.

‘Three years,’ Grace said. ‘She often pretended I was her daughter, and made me do the work the thief of souls asked of her. I haven’t been to the sea in all this time.’

‘And your skin was here for three years?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No, she only did that when she came here,’ Grace said. ‘Before, she kept it with her, but here she suspected you might steal it if you found out what it was. She didn’t realize I could still escape when she hadn’t given me specific instructions.’

‘If the thief of souls can do all these things, why does he not take over our world, kill at random?’ Alastair asked.

‘As I said, he needs a blood connection to operate in our world, and the promises form humans he works with. According to Tatiana, he has been sealed away by a witch a long time ago. But here’s where it gets interesting. Apparently, somewhere in the Victorian era he’d grown so powerful he could leave his realm, kill people without a deal. He had a daughter too at that time. A witch called Theresa Gray. She was the one who sealed him away. I think, considering how old he is, it must have been done before, but I don’t know how or when. The seal will break again, although I have no idea how long that will take.’

Lucie frowned. ‘Theresa Gray, that’s my mother’s name. Well, she usually goes by Tessa.’

Grace stared at Lucie. ‘I heard the thief speak of her. He never expected her betrayal, and couldn’t defeat her or stop her from sealing him. But he could take her memory. Weakened from the battle, she fell asleep in the land in between and only woke up a 130 years later with false memories of her childhood in time she woke up in. He took her power away while she slept, since she was in the land in between he could still do that. He does not believe she is a threat to him anymore, and thinks that with enough interesting or powerful souls, he’ll break free for good.’

‘Meaning this woman would live in the modern age, with no idea who she was?’ Alastair asked. ‘Lucie, it could really be your mother. The timeline adds up. And if she was the thief’s daughter, that would explain your why your power is so connected to his.’

‘Everyone in my mother’s family died,’ Lucie mused, ‘All when my mother was very young. My only family are on the Herondale side. It could be her. And although she doesn’t have the sight, it was very easy for my father to get her to see and believe, something that has always surprised him. But then she would have been the same witch Jessamine knew. Wouldn’t Jessamine have recognized her?’

‘I don’t know, it has been a very long time and Jessamine didn’t know her that well,’ Cordelia said. ‘Could easily be that Jessamine forgot her face.’

‘I could talk to your mother,’ Alastair said. ‘See if I can restore her memory. If she lived a different life than she remembers, the real memories are still there somewhere.’

‘Have you done anything like that before?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not as extreme as an entire life someone forgot,’ Alastair said. ‘But I have restored missing memories, yes. Most of the time, there isn’t much of a point to it though. Not everyone wants to remember.’

Cordelia knew what Alastair was talking about. It was something he’d told her about not long ago, after learning about their father’s alcoholism. He’d tried to restore their father’s memories from when he was too drunk to remember, hoping that if he knew how much he was hurting Alastair, he would stop. Nothing had changed though.

‘What is Tatiana planning next?’ Alastair asked Grace. ‘How much time do we have left?’

‘She didn’t tell me,’ Grace said. ‘She comes here to communicate with him, I think that was her intention today. But she wants you out of the way too. Ultimately, Thomas must die so Jesse can live, but I think she will try to kill all of you when she can, especially when she find out what Lucie can do. The thief lost track of witches, and they’re very uncommon nowadays.’

‘Are all witches his children?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Grace said. ‘In his current state, he would be unable to leave his realm and have a child, but he used to be able to. I don’t think he’d try again if he could though, not after his daughter turned on him. But they could be descendants, generations away. I’m not sure how the magic inherits.’

Some of the stones shifted, the ruins became a little more like a castle.

‘I think we need to get out of here,’ Cordelia said.

She was still soaking wet, as was Alastair, and getting colder. She longed for a hot shower and some clean clothes. Lucie opened a separate gateway for Grace, and they walked into the light that brought them back to the forest.

Lucie stared into the distance for a moment. ‘She’s become transparent again. Show yourself, Barbara.’

The woman Cordelia had seen before appeared. Who was she? Another ghost, but somehow Lucie had pulled her back into this world.

‘You’ve taken a soul away from him,’ Grace said. ‘You really are powerful. But he’s going to be very mad.’

‘What else was I supposed to do? I’m not sending her back,’ Lucie said crossly.

‘Fine with me, but you should know what you’re doing,’ Grace said. ‘You’re making a powerful enemy.’

‘He was always my enemy,’ Lucie said determinedly.

Cordelia feared what would happen though. Would the thief of souls realize how powerful Lucie was? Would he come for her, out of fear that Lucie would finish what Tessa had started?

Grace nodded. ‘Alright then. I will be going my own way. I need to return to the sea. Perhaps you can come visit me some day on the Isle of Skye.’

Grace then walked into the woods, and disappeared. Did she intend to walk all the way to the coast? Cordelia wanted to call after her, but she was long gone.

#Cordelia Carstairs #Alastair Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomas Lightwood #Grace Blackthorn #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

20 notes · View notes

passable-talent · 4 years

Note

okok so imagine growing up/ training with Anakin as kids in the Jedi temple?? and when he turns to the dark side, you join him and rule by his side???? I- asdfghjjfksa

how did u know that I’m a slut for this kinda shit

i’m not even 100% sure this was meant as a request but anon, you’re in luck, BECAUSE YOU’RE GETTING AN ENTIRE FUCKING FIC OUT OF THAT SHIT

make an entire 70 song playlist just to write this? yes. yes i did.

As a Jedi Knight, you had been assigned to protect Padme Amidala. Such an assignment had been decided by the chancellor himself- he did so adore Padme, and could not stand the thought of her coming to harm.

Darth Sidious, you see, had assumed that Anakin Skywalker cared for her deeply, and so needed her alive, for his plan concerning Anakin to come to fruition. He made a single, harmless mistake, one that had managed not at all to affect his plan.

All that time that Anakin spent with Padme was indeed because he cared for her. She was his best friend- and it was you that he had married in secret some years ago. He did care deeply for Padme Amidala, but not in the same way he felt for his oldest friend in the Jedi Order, besides Obi-Wan. The one he’d grown up with, trained with.

She was your best friend, and his. The three of you were an unstoppable trio (people notice when three of incredible beauty and power like the three of you enter a room), and you trusted each other with everything. She knew and helped hide your relationship with him, she was the only human at your wedding.

And when the Republic was remade into the Empire, you sat in her apartment in Coruscant, her loyal bodyguard and best friend. As you always did when you had much to consider, you rolled a ring around your finger. Anakin had given it to you at your wedding. It wasn’t a wedding band, just a simple ring, one that wasn’t too far out of place for a Jedi to wear. But it was your wedding ring, all the same.

Obi-Wan knew that if anyone would know where Anakin was, it was one of the two of you. And he knew that you’d be together.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday,” you answered, as you often did for the senator. It helped give her that aire of superiority that served her well.

“And do you know where he is now?” He pressed, and you looked to Padme. She shook her head.

“No,” you answered for her again, leaning still against one of the columns of her apartment. You knew she was safe with Obi-Wan, and your guard was as low as it had been in weeks.

“I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, to the both of you. “He is in grave danger.” You stood up straight, surprised.

“From the Sith?” You asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, “from himself.” You approached Obi-Wan slowly, until you stood side by side with Padme. “I’m afraid...” Obi-Wan looked to the side, full of sorrow. “Anakin has turned to the Dark Side.”

It felt as though a hole opened up in the floor beneath you, and you could do nothing but fall.

“You’re wrong,” Padme said, conviction in her voice, “How could you even say that?”

You turned your face to the side, eyes cast to the floor, and murmured only a single ‘no’.

Obi-Wan pushed between the two of you, still pain in his voice, and you didn’t know how this could get any worse.

“I-I have seen a security hologram,” he stuttered, voice soft, and you turned toward him. “Of him...” he trailed away as his footsteps stopped, and he brought his hand to his mouth. “Killing younglings.”

“Not Anakin,” Padme said, “he couldn’t!”

“It can’t be true,” you murmured, shutting your eyes briefly against it all, as though you could block it away. Your thumb went to the ring on your fourth finger, just to feel the metal, and to remember who it represented.

“He was deceived by a lie, we all were.” Obi-Wan turned, and now his face was hard. “It appears the chancellor is behind everything, including the war.”

“The Emperor,” you corrected, anger coiling between your ribs, and now you had someone to blame. The same man who had shown so much kindness to you, and your two best friends. And he’d done this.

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Obi-Wan told you both, and you flicked your eyes for just a moment to Padme- she looked surprised, and hurt. As were you all. “After the death of Count Dooku, Anakin became his new apprentice.” She paused, taking it all in, and in her strife took a seat on the nearby couch.

“Anakin isn’t a Sith,” you said, under your breath, wishing you could convince yourself of it.

“I must find him,” Obi-Wan said, and your gaze snapped to him.

“And kill him?" You accused, “He’s been deceived, just like the rest of us. You said it yourself!”

“He has become a very great threat,” Obi-Wan insisted, and you shook your head, taking a step in his direction.

“And he can be lead back to the light!” You said, astounded that Obi-Wan could even consider harming him. “Obi-Wan, don’t you see? If you turn on him, it’ll only push him further toward the dark! You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, his master!” You noticed the briefest expression of guilt cross Obi-Wan’s face, and you thought you might convince him to reconsider.

His eyes flicked downward to the ring, and his resolve hardened, and he stepped back toward the balcony, and his ship. He paused, just outside the walls of the apartment.

“(Y/N),” he said, and you lifted your chin toward him. “You’ve married him, haven’t you?”

You kept his gaze, and did not deny it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning from you and boarding his ship.

“Remember what I said, Obi-Wan,” you said, and the conviction in your voice was almost a threat, “If you find him. If he thinks you’ve turned on him, we’ll never get him back.” Obi-Wan nodded, slightly, and left the balcony.

You turned back to Padme with sadness in your eyes.

“You know where he is, don’t you?” She asked, and you reached with your right hand to fiddle with the ring on your left.

“Of course I do,” you admitted, and she walked to you.

“Let me come with.”

“Padme, love,” you said, “if what Obi-Wan said is true, and he has turned to the dark, I want to keep you as far away as possible. I’ll send Captain Typho down, he’ll watch over you while I’m gone.” Padme nodded, pulling you into a hug.

“Take my ship,” she said, “so he’ll know it’s you.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, and when you parted, you felt her run her thumb over your wedding ring. “I promise I’ll bring him back.”

Mustafar- that’s where he was. You flew there, alone with your thoughts for the entire ride, but you knew that it would be your husband waiting for you when you arrived.

You touched down on the landing dock, and for a moment, stared across the fiery landscape, wondering if this was your own, personal hell. To lose Anakin, to stand opposite Obi-Wan, to abandon Padme.

A figure appeared, and dropped his hood, and you’d recognize him anywhere. He ran- and you did the same, opening the hatch so you could meet him. He opened his arms to you, and you fell into them, and if you hadn’t known, you wouldn’t have thought that anything changed.

“Padme’s ship,” he said, posing a question, and you shook your head.

“She’s on Coruscant,” you said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s just me.”

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, and you swallowed hard.

“I was worried about you,” you said, holding onto his arms. “Obi-Wan...” you trailed off, and thought of your own advice. If there was any chance that the two of them would ever reconcile, it would be affected by your words in this moment.

“We’ve been told terrible things,” you said, and you saw concern in his eyes. How this loving man before you could have done what Obi-Wan said... it didn’t make sense.

“What things?”

“They said you’ve turned to the dark side,” you said, nearly in a whimper, but you chose not to specify who ‘they’ where that told you this rumor. He lowered his gaze, and pressed his forehead to yours, and it almost helped. “That you killed younglings.”

“They’re trying to turn you against me,” Anakin said, holding you gently, and you shut your eyes. Obi-Wan was right, and Sidious had manipulated Anakin. You just had to get him back.

“Anakin, I want to help you,” you said, and you felt him pull from your grip, slowly.

“And I want to protect you,” he said, and his voice was so calm, like he didn’t realize the meaning that was behind them. “Only my new powers can do that.”

As a Jedi, you excelled in decision making. You had strong instincts, and you had been praised in the past that any decision you made was likely the right one.

So here, you needed to make a choice. A choice as to how you would bring Anakin back to the light. You could push, now, and make him feel betrayed. Or you could wait, and tug him slowly.

The problem with the plan, the kink in the line, was that Obi-Wan was on his way, searching for Anakin. Sidious likely was, too. If you didn’t pull him to the light now, things would get worse.

But you were willing to do whatever it took to keep Anakin alive.

You pulled him against you again, in another hug, and wished that you could spend forever here, wrapped within him.

“I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of,” he said, fingers slipping through your hair the way he would calm you of a nightmare. If only this were another nightmare, and you would wake up, and all would be right again. “And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.”

You were sure, now, that Obi-Wan was right. Anakin had been taken to the dark side, but you knew he had not yet been lost. You knew you could bring him back.

“We could leave,” you suggested quietly, fingers knotting into his robes. “Leave it all behind. We don’t have to be Jedi, we can just be together, far away from here.”

“Don’t you see?” he asked, and as you pulled away, you saw a smile on his face. “We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic! Now we can be safe, Padme can be safe, the Separatists are gone. I’m even more powerful than the chancellor, (Y/N), I-I can overthrow him, if that’s what you want.”

You had to make a decision. You had to choose.

“And together, you and I can rule the galaxy! Make things the way we want them to be, the way they should be!”

Choose- choose between the Jedi way that you’d been taught all your life, or Anakin.

You brought your hands to his face, letting your fingertips settle in his hair.

“Promise me,” you whispered, and your eyes lifted to his. “Promise me that when the day comes, you’ll overthrow the chancellor. Promise me that you’ll choose me over him.”

“Of course,” he insisted, putting his flesh hand over yours, “It’s all for you, (Y/N).”

“Anakin,” said a voice behind you, and you whirled from his arms to see Obi-Wan, standing at the hatch of Padme’s ship.

“No, no!” You said, throwing up a hand toward him, your other to your side as though you were protecting Anakin from him. “No, Obi-Wan, you’ll only push him away! I can handle this!”

“He’s endangering himself, (Y/N),” Obi-Wan said, stepping down the ramp.

“You brought him here?”

“No!” you shouted over your shoulder, “I didn’t know he was on the ship!” Turning back to Obi-Wan, you brought your hand up higher, and you’d force him back, if you needed to.

“Obi-Wan, trust me. He’s fine, he’ll be okay, I need you to go.” Obi-Wan looked at you for a moment, and you saw no trust in his eyes. Your right hand, which once kept Anakin back, slowly rounded to your saber where it hung on your back.

“Obi-Wan, please. We don’t need to fight.”

You expected, though, that you would have to.

But Obi-Wan let out a breath, and conceded, stepping away.

“Listen to me, both of you,” you said, turning your shoulders just so that you could refer to both of them, but still stand between them.

“Obi-Wan, you need to be far from here. Far from Coruscant. Take Padme, too- far away. I don’t trust the emperor not to harm either of you.” You made a small motion to Anakin.

“We’ll take care of Sidious. He trusts Anakin, we can remove him. When it’s safe, I’ll let you know, and you can come home.” You could feel the way the air between them bristled, but it seemed Obi-Wan trusted you enough to heed your words.

“Take Padme’s ship. Fly to Coruscant, then go, as far away as you can.”

“Tatooine,” Anakin suggested, voice dark.

“Yes, go to Tatooine, and hide, please, Obi-Wan.”

Without a word, Obi-Wan nodded, and turned back to the ship. You watched as it lifted off, and you didn’t look away until it had gone. You could feel Anakin simmering behind you.

“Did he come to kill me?” He asked, and you reached for him.

“No, no,” you soothed, hating yourself with every lie you told him. You knew it was for the best. “He was worried, worried for you, worried that he would have to kill you because of your loyalty to Sidious.” You pet his hair back, holding his face. “But you aren’t loyal to Sidious, see? And now that he knows that, we can all work together. He’ll keep Padme safe until we rule the galaxy.” Anakin nodded, resting his forehead against yours again.

“When the time is right, (Y/N), I’ll do it. I’ll kill Palpatine.”

“I know,” you breathed, and it almost seemed like everything would be okay.

~~~

He didn’t kill Palpatine.

Sidious trusted him, and so did what Anakin asked, keeping you alive and nearby. He called you a Sith, and fashioned a saber for you, its color autumn red, with just the slightest reminder of your former orange. You were allowed to be on his left, when Anakin was on his right.

In his office at the senate, he was in the midst of a meeting when you ran him through.

It had been two months since that day on Mustafar. Obi-Wan reported that Yoda had disappeared, and most other Jedi had scattered throughout the system. Padme was safe. And you loved Anakin, but he was taking his time to remove Sidious.

You wondered if it was because of Sidious’ control over him. Possibly, Sidious could sense his intentions. You doubted he could sense yours.

So, from behind him, beside your husband, you ignited your saber, running straight through his stomach.

He fell to the floor, and the members of his cabinet looked at you, stunned.

“Leave,” Anakin ordered, and they immediately obeyed. With Palpatine dead, the empire fell to Anakin.

When the room was empty, you looked down at the monster on the floor. He was wheezing, and bleeding rapidly.

With hands almost tender, you sat him up, and rested his head against the desk.

“With your remaining breath, my master,” you said, sitting back onto the floor, “tell me your plan. Tell me how you pulled Anakin to the dark side. And I’ll tell you why you failed.” He glared at you.

“I could kill you now,” you offered, auburn saber still in your hand. “But I want to know how to do what you’ve done. To pass on the way of the Sith.”

“Anakin Skywalker loved Padme Amidala,” Palpatine wheezed, and you raised your chin. “I promised him that I could save the one he loved from certain death. And when she disappeared, he held loyalty to no one but me.”

“You didn’t count on me,” you continued for him, “If it weren’t for me, it would have worked.”

“Yes,” Palpatine growled. You smiled, wickedly, and collected your legs underneath you as though you were meditating.

“You failed,” you said, holding up your end of the bargain, “because while Anakin loves Padme, he married me.” Sidious’ eyes went wide. How he had managed to discuss Padme with Anakin and it never somehow came up that he hadn’t married Padme, you didn’t want to know.

“His loyalty is to me. And to Padme- who is right now on Tatooine, in the care of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You lifted your saber, pointing it to him casually, like one might gesture with a pen.

“It seems, Sidious, I never discussed with you my true feelings for Anakin.” You pressed the saber forward to his stab wound, and the blood around it began to boil and sizzle. You went in slowly, making him groan, having not enough energy to scream.

“I love him,” you explained, “I would do anything for him.” You slid the saber up toward his chest, and began the same slow press, this time toward his heart, through healthy flesh.

“And I’ve got to say,” you began, readying to shove the saber forward and stop his miserable, shriveled heart, “I don’t think I appreciate how you’ve treated him.”

One thrust forward, and Emperor Palpatine was no more.

With his lungs empty of their final breaths, you snuffed your saber, and turned back to Anakin. He was still sitting in the chair he’d had beside Palpatine, eyes trained to you, shining in intensity.

“You’re in my seat,” you said as you stood. You approached him and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you. “I’m afraid I’ve taken your place as right hand to the emperor.”

“Is that so?” he teased, his hands on your lower back.

“I believe it is,” you breathed, “Emperor Skywalker.”

No one in the galaxy had ever shared a sweeter kiss.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #imagines #star wars anakin #star wars self insert #star wars prequels #Star Wars #star wars reader insert #anakin x reader insert #anakin imagine #poor anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker x Jedi reader #anakin x Jedi reader #darth Vader x Jedi reader #fics

212 notes · View notes

all-the-love-harold · 4 years

Text

Fine Line

Chapter 2 - I don’t want to be alone

December 20th 2019

“Hey Bowie?” Clara said in her high pitched dog voice and watched as Bowie titled his head to listen to her “Do you want to wake up uncle Harry?”

Bowie jumped down off the bed and ran straight to Clara’s bedroom door waiting for her to open it.

“Ok let’s go big dog, go jump on uncle Harry!” she opened the door and let Bowie out to the living room where a very hungover Harry was snoring on the couch. Now the thing that Clara had learnt best about Bowie over the last few days was that he had absolutely no understanding of personal space so as soon as he saw Harry on the couch, he jumped up and Harry groaned as he landed on his belly.

“Noooo” he moaned “Too early”

“It’s 8am Harold” Clara chimed “Time to drive home for christmas”

Christmas was Clara's favorite time of year and as a result she unusually started preparing in october and she had a ready made playlist of christmas songs to play at any given moment. So she pulled her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and pressed play on “I’ll be home for Christmas” and turned it up as loud as she possibly could.

Harry rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut, “ 5 more minutes”

“Big night then?” she said, sitting herself down at the end of the couch where Harry’s legs were tucked up and Bowie crawled over to snuggle up to his new mum.

“Mmmhmm” he sighed “got back at 4 am”

“So I guess I’m driving then?”

“You’re amazing” he smiled, without opening his eyes again.

The morning was slow, Clara made Harry some eggs on toast and then found the biggest travel mug she could for his coffee and one that was only slightly smaller for her own. She packed Bowie's bag of toys and training treats and by the time they packed the car, double and triple checked that they had everything including the presents and the ingredients for the pudding that Clara was going to make, it was 10am and Harry was starting to feel a little more alive albeit a little tired.

“There are shops in holmes chapel Ra” Harry said as he shut the boot to the car “if it turns out that we’ve forgotten the custard I will go out and get it”

“Right let’s go then” clara smiled “and you can face Anne when there’s no custard because they’re sold out”

“I’ll make the fucking custard” he laughed as he pulled the door open and hopped in the car.

"Hi Bowie" he chimed as the dog who was sitting on the back seat of the car rested his head on the shoulder of the passenger seat "you're pretty cute little dude"

Clara's heart swelled, she had grown to love Bowie more than anything else and it was nice to see that she wasn't alone.

The journey was slow. Traffic was almost at a standstill on the highway that would take them out of London and into the countryside, but that was to be expected this close to christmas. Clara imagined what it would be like christmas eve and became very thankful that herself and Harry had the kinds of jobs they could take extra time off from.

“I’m dreaming of a white christmas” Harry sang, turning the stereo up as they came to a stand still once again

“Just like the ones I used to know” Clara sang, horribly out of tune

“Where the treetops glisten '' Harry giggled his way through the next few lines as Clara continued to sing out of time and tune.

“It’s a good thing you’re a lawyer” He said when the song ended

“You’re saying I couldn’t make it as a singer?” Clara said, pretending to sound offended

“On no, I think you’d be great” Harry laughed “With a lot of autotune and lip sync”

“I’ve learnt to lip sync your entire album, so I’ll take your next tour off your hands”

“Yeah great” Harry nodded “You do that, I’ll write the next album and you can tour that”

“We make a great team” Clara laughed “Too bad you look like a troll and you can’t tour for yourself”

Harry shrugged “Hey, I’m just keeping you in a job”

Clara laughed “Alright” she said steering the conversation in a more serious direction “Tell me about Shelly”

Harry shrugged and sighed at the same time, running his hands through his hair “there’s not much to say really, unless you want details about all the sex we’ve had”

“Nope” Clara said definitely “There’s got to be more to it than that H, she was at the show last night, I know you, you don’t invite your fuck buddies to things like that”

“She didn’t stay long though, did she?” Harry was blushing mostly because Clara was right, there was more to it than that, he just wasn’t ready to admit it to himself yet.

“No, I think she was gone before the end of the first song”

“Exactly” Harry nodded

“And you’re not just downplaying this because I’m sad and single now?”

“No” he shook his head “you never downplayed your happiness when I was sad and single”

“Fair pont” she said keep her eyes fixed on the road “Just be careful H, I only spoke to her for a minute so take what I say as a grain of salt, but she seemed like the type to collect trophies”

“What do you mean?” he asked

“Well you’re not exactly some unknown, undiscovered musician, gigging around London, sleeping with you gains serious bragging rights, she seems like the type to want them”

“I actually thought the opposite” he pondered, looking out the window and playing with his lips. A habit that he’s picked up over years

Clara’s heart sank, she hated that he couldn’t see what she and Gemma had thought was so obvious “Like I said, grain of salt, and if you’re happy, I’m happy, just be careful”

He smiled “Don’t tell Mum? Yeah”

“I’m not making any promises, Anne knows how to get me talking”

“Well I might just tell Jenny about …… “

“About what Styles? Jenny and I have no secrets”

He sighed “Maybe you should”

“So what kept you out until 4am if Shelly left the show so early?”Clara decided to turn the subject back around to Shelly so that he wouldn’t ask how she was feeling about the break up, because if she was honest, she didn’t know how she was feeling.

“Mostly stupidity” he rubbed his eyes “But I also went back to her place at about midnight”

“So you’re saying you slept on my couch right after you had sex with her?”

“Yep” he nodded

“Did you shower first?”

“Kinda” he smirked

“How do you “kinda”” Clara said using her hands to make air quotes “have a shower”

“Well we had sex in the shower”

Clara laughed “Of course. Oh God” she sighed dropping her head a little without taking her eyes off the road “I miss having a sex life”

“You’ve only been single for like a week” Harry said, trying to make her feel better without saying too much about Will

“Yeah but I haven’t had sex in months, I knew the break up was coming” she said honestly

“Well you certainly weren’t” Harry giggled tentatively

Claral laughed and playfully slapped his knee “Fuck you Styles”

He shrugged “You can if you want”

“Excuse me” Clara had to fight the urge to slam her foot on the breaks and avoid a collision the the motorway

“I’m joking Ra” Harry laughed, although he wasn’t entirely sure that he was. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always had the idea that he and Clara would end up together.

“Good” Clara giggled nervously “Because I know where that’s been” she gestured towards his crotch

“And I know where that’s been,” he said, doing the same movements towards her, a smile etched on his face so that she knew he was joking “and it’s looking a bit dusty”

Clara laughed “I won’t take this abuse” she said jokingly “Keep going and I’ll pull over right here and you can walk back to holmes chapel”

Harry reached out and turned the music back up to almost full volume

“It’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” he sang along with michael buble

“Everywhere you go” Clara joined in and that was that for the rest of the trip. They sang as loud as they could and laughed at each other singing out of tune. They made up stories about the cars passing by and spoke about just about anything, relishing in the time they got to spend together, enjoying each other's company because they knew that in just a few weeks, Harry would be off again, and they would be a part for most of the new year. Or so they thought.

***

December 25th, 2019.

It was 6am. It was still dark outside but Clara and Bowie were wide awake. Like little kids on christmas morning, they were excited. Well at least Clara was. Bowie just knew that he’d get some kibble as soon as Clara got out of bed. But Clara had so much to do this morning, she was responsible for christmas lunch this year and she hadn’t even made so much as a dessert. But christmas was here and there was no way that she was going to allow the day to be anything less than festive.

“Right then Bowie,” she yawned “let’s get this show on the road”

The dog lifted his head, looked at Clara as she spoke and flopped back down again when she was done, as if to tell her that it was far too early for an adult to be getting up on Christmas morning. And it was clearly too early for him to be having any breakfast.

Clara laughed and swung her legs out of the bed, “You can stay in bed if you then, but I will be cooking a chicken later, you might want to get up for that”

Bowie groaned and Clara laughed as she put on her dressing gown and walked out of the room. It was a cold morning, but the house was so well heated she would never have guessed that there was frost outside.

The thing about Christmas in Holmes Chapel was that it was full of chosen family. Clara and Harry’s parents had both split up when they were really little, Clara’s when she was four and Harry’s when he was seven and ever since then, their mums had banded together to make sure that christmas was as festive and magical as possible. And Harry and Clara had always wanted to carry on the tradition now that they were all grown up and usually only home for christmas.

Clara walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on, still feeling a little sleepy, she didn’t turn the light on and walked straight into Harry, who was standing in front of the pantry.

“Morning” he said sounding as if he was still half asleep

“What are you doing up so early?” Clara questioned “And why are you just standing there”

“I just got off the phone with Shelly”

“Oh gross” Clara sighed “well could you move so I can get to the tea”

Harry took an over exaggerated step to the left “It wasn’t that kind of phone call”

“Why else would she be calling you before 6am on christmas day - you want one?” She held up a tea bag.

He nodded “To wish me a Merry Christmas” all of a sudden all of the colour drained from his face and he gulped before he could finish his sentence “and to tell me that she’s pregnant”

Clara paused as she reached for the kettle and looked up at Harry “She’s what now?”

“She’s having my baby” he huffed and threw his hands up in the air

“And how are we feeling about that? Clara stepped lightly, she didn’t want to say anything that might offend him right at this moment in time.

“Confused” he shrugged “I was so careful, I used condoms every time and she told me she was on the pill, I can’t be a dad right now, I’ll be on tour when it’s born”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Yeah” he nodded “she told me to cancel, she wants to keep it” he ran his hands through his hair “I don’t know what to do Ra? Tell me what to do?”

She gestured towards the bar stool that sat at the kitchen bench and put his cup of tea down next to him “do you want a baby?”

He sighed “I mean, yeah, one day, but fuck not right now”

“And more importantly” Clara looked at him sternly “Do you want one with Shelly?”

He took a sip of his tea “No” he said plainly

“Well there’s your answer”

“But she wants to keep it Ra, I can’t just ghost her now and it’s not like I’m not going to love the kid, but it’s just horrible timing”

“I think you need to talk to shelly in person”

“Yeah” he nodded “I do….” he paused “Can you come with me? Might be handy to have a family lawyer right there”

“Might be a bit intimidating right at the beginning H” Clara admitted “I’ll get you through the custody and child support battles if that’s what you want, but you need to sit down with her and get all your feelings out on the table first - and then if she doesn’t cooperate, call me and I’ll go full lawyer on her”

“Lawyer on who?” Anne said, walking into the kitchen wrapping her dressing gown tight around her to keep her body heat in.

“Oh no one” Harry smiled his charming smile “Merry Christmas Mum”

“Oh Merry Christmas my boy” she wrapped her arms around him “It’s so nice to have you home”

His head sank into Anne’s shoulder and suddenly everything didn’t seem so urgent or stressful

“Good to be here mum” he sighed happily

“Now Clara” she said pulling away from Harry “Merry Christmas Dear”

“Merry Christmas Anne” she smiled “Thanks for having us all in your house”

“Oh it’s no trouble, you’re doing most of the work love, I’ve just got spare rooms. Now,” she clapped her hands “How can I help?”

Clara smiled “You can’t, make yourself a cup of tea and relax Anne, you deserve it”

“Relax this year before you have a grandchild to dote on next year” Harry thought to himself before smiling at his mother and handing her a teabag, butterflies filling his stomach, the thought of being a father still sinking in.

“If you insist” Anne shrugged, “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything”

Harry waited until Anne was as far away as possible and then whispered “I think I have to go back to London tomorrow, talk to shelly”

Clara shook her head “No” she said “you need a few days to get your head around it all. Work out what you want and have a clear head when you talk to her”

“Breaking up with someone are we H?” Ben, Clara's brother said walking into the kitchen.

“No” he laughed nervously “One of the PR managers at my label is trying to get me to get caught by the paparazzi while I’m home” This wasn’t a lie. They’d been bugging him about that for a while now, but right now it was the least of his worries.

“Maybe your job isn’t as great as it looks” Ben shrugged “anyway, Merry Christmas” he smiled “What kind of feast are we having Ra?”

“Well you’re having a roast chicken and Harry and Gemma are having a nut roast”

“Sounds delicious, what can I do?”

“Nothing yet” Clara smiled wishing he would go away so she could finish her conversation with Harry “Go sit down and get warm by the fire, I can see the goosebumps on your arms”

Ben nodded and left the room, feeling a little awkward for not helping and Clara turned to Harry.

“You need to get your head around this pretty fast H, because if she’s already saying she’s going to keep it, I can almost guarantee you she won’t be changing her mind. And I know you, you won’t just be a child support dad, so when we get a chance after lunch has happened, we’re going for a walk, and were going to talk this through until you know what you really want from this”

Harry’s face had turned a ghostly white “Ok” he nodded

“And until then” clara smiled “I’m going to distract you, see those carrots over there?”

He nodded again

“Peel them” Clara said “and the boil them in that pot”

“I can do that” he sighed “But then what”

“Well then you can chop the nuts” Clara took a sip of her tea and tried to empty her head of the idea that Harry was going to be a father and work out where the hell she needed to start for this christmas lunch, which she had refused help with.

***

Holmes Chapel was really beautiful in winter. The trees glistened with frost that had never melted from that morning and paths looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Harry and Clara had managed to escape their families for a little while, using Bowie as the perfect excuse to go for a walk in the cold. It had been almost eight hours since Shelly had told Harry that she’s pregnant but the information had barely sunken in.

“What are your thoughts H?” Clara asked after five minutes of walking in silence

“I don't have any” Harry admitted “I don’t want a baby right now Ra, but I’ve got one and I don’t know what to do”

Clara nodded, “I think the first thing you need to think about is what you want your relationship with Shelly to look like.”

“I don’t know” he said firmly “I really like her but this makes it very serious very fast”

“It does” Clara nodded “But I’m not sure you’re in a position to be picky about that right”

“I guess we’re better off working out that we don’t work together before the baby arrives”

“That’s one way to look at it…” Bowie spotted something and launched himself forward “Bowie” Clara said firmly “with me”

“Or it could work and I’d have a ready made happy family before I thought I would”

“Yeah” Clara sighed, little apprehensively, “This could be great for you”

“What do I do if it’s a disaster”

“You call me” Clara said “and we do everything we legally can to get the custody agreement that suits you”

“I’d want all of it” He admitted

“I know” Clara smiled “But I wanted you to say that, so that you’d realise that this is not such a disaster”

“I hate it when you do that” Harry smiled down at clara

“Do what?” she smirked

“Know what I’m thinking before I’m thinking it”

“Oh that” Clara blushed “I’ve been doing that since we were 5”

He nodded and sighed “I guess I’m going to be a dad next year then”

73 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 1

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: After much hype, many sleepless nights and WAY too much fun, today is the day. I can’t believe it’s here. Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the first chapter of Part 1/5 of Al’s and my HPHM Rockstar AU. Katriona Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing. They’re rockstars after all.

Specific Warning: Mentions of alcohol, swearing

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster

Light it up, light it up, now I'm burning

Feel the rush, feel the rush of adrenaline

We are young, we are strong, we will rise

Cause I'm back, back, back from the dead tonight

~ Skillet - Back From The Dead ~

The colourful patterns of the spotlights sweeping over him, Orion Amari let go of the neck of his guitar with a flourish of his arm. He couldn’t see most of the huge crowd filling the vast space that was London’s O2 arena, but he could hear them going wild at the solo he had just finished.

The bright lights burning down on him and the other members of their band were erasing all faces except for the first rows, but he could feel the presence of the crowd; the sound of the joined voices in unison with the music was reverberating through him, amplifying the beat of his heart until he could feel it in every remote corner of his body, his heartbeat and the rhythm of the song one and the same.

He let the music carry him for a moment before he put his fingers onto the strings of his instrument again and joined in with the rest.

It was their first show back after a four week break, marking the beginning of the last leg of Equinox’s biggest European tour so far. The final shows would be taking them all around the U.K., to end their tour where everything had begun so many years ago.

He shook his long, black hair out of his eyes and moved across the stage towards Skye Parkin, the bassist of the band. She was jumping up and down to the music, her blue hair flowing around her like a coloured halo. She greeted him with an enthusiastic grin as he stood across from her, both their fingers dancing over the necks of their instruments in patterns which had become second nature to them.

When Skye turned away to engage with the crowd again, Orion let his eyes wander over the stage, drinking in every precious second before tonight’s show would be over in a few more moments.

Merula Snyde, keyboardist and backing vocalist of the band, had her head bowed deeply over the keys of her instrument. Her short, wavy hair with the signature blonde streak hid her face from Orion’s view, but he knew how her brow would be creased over her eyes, which were so blue they almost looked violet at times. She was probably biting her lower lip in concentration, too; Orion had known Merula since they had been children, and even back then, she had been able to fade out everything else but the thing she was concentrating on.

Skye, on the other hand, was fully immersed in the music, shaking her head enthusiastically. She was singing along on the top of her lungs and Orion was glad his in-ear monitor allowed him only to hear what he needed to. While Skye was a brilliant bassist, her singing often had him grind his teeth; not that she was caring in the least.

Next to her, the frontman and lead singer of their band, Jason Everett, was trying his best to make the girls adoring him from the front row swoon. He flashed a smile at one of them; the poor thing started to cry hysterically while her friends were shaking her. He had his guitar pushed to his back and his hands were clasped around the microphone, his dark, warm voice floating through the heated-up air.

Feeling slightly embarrassed at the scene, Orion averted his eyes. He turned around and wandered back to his own designated spot where his other guitars and pedals to control the musical effects were set up.

His eyes swept over the raised pedestal at the back of the stage where the huge drum kit of Lizzie Jameson, the lively drummer of Equinox, was situated. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her maintaining the compelling rhythm of the song with breathtaking speed. Her drumsticks were dancing over the set faster than his eyes could follow.

During a short break, she dipped her head back and sang along, her light brown ponytail messy and tangled from playing. She was swaying her body to the familiar tunes, her eyes closed, a smile on her face.

The music wasn’t merely in her blood; the pounding of the drums was synchronised with the beating of her heart.

Orion watched with a smirk as she opened her eyes and spun one of her drumsticks between her fingers before letting them dance over her kit once more. He had never known anyone quite like her.

She was rhythm incarnate.

And what was more, when all was said and done, when the last spotlight had gone out and the arena was empty again, he knew that she was his.

~~~

When Orion entered the green room after it had been his turn to take a shower, everyone else was waiting for him already.

Merula was quietly eating the dubious looking Chinese food they had ordered, whereas Lizzie and Skye were busy joking around with each other; Everett sat lounging on one of the leather sofas lining the walls of the room, a bottle of beer in hand and looking as glum as was usual for him these days.

His dark blond hair was still damp and his eyes followed Orion as he made his way over to where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Orion could almost feel his piercing gaze in between his shoulder blades; upon turning around, their eyes met for a split second before the lead singer looked away again.

All of their attention was drawn towards the entrance of the room when Ethan Parkin, former rockstar of times long gone and now the manager of his daughter’s band, strode into their midst with a beaming smile on his face.

“What a show, what a show indeed,” he proclaimed, slowly clapping his hands together. “That may have been one of your best shows so far, and after such a long break as well! The fan store was practically raided afterwards. I’m so proud of you!”

Orion fought the urge to sigh; of course, the first thing Ethan thought of was always the amount of profit made. Granted, it was part of his job to have the financial aspects under control, but Orion wished it wasn’t such a prominent feature on his mind. After all, money had never been the reason they had decided to share their music with the world.

When Orion saw the door opening again and the three main members of their tech crew entered the room, he rose from his seat and smiled into the round of tired looking faces he considered his family.

“I welcome all of you back,” he began the introduction to their usual feedback round that was happening after every show. “I know we already saw each other earlier today, but it is only now, with the echo of our music still in the air that we are back, that we are where we truly belong. With our energies recharged, our performance was as splendid as we could have hoped for it to be.”

He brought his fingertips together and inclined his head. “Speaking for myself, there is nothing I found faulty tonight, may it be from our part or the technical department. But my perception is solely my own and I cannot speak for all of us; if there is anything any of you feels the need to make note of, now is the time to do so.”

Everybody was silent for a moment, nobody wanting to be the first one to speak up.

Eventually, Merula shrugged. “Not a big deal, but could the green spotlight be adjusted tomorrow? It was shining right into my eyes whenever it turned, couldn’t see a bloody thing.”

She was looking expectantly at the woman with the strawberry blonde curls sitting opposite her. Katriona ‘KC’ Cassiopeia, head of the lighting department nodded and scribbled something down on the clipboard she was carrying.

Contrary to the rest of the crew, she wasn’t wearing the signature black shirt with the logo of the tech company, but a simple dark tank top underneath a black cashmere sweater. As one of the two owners of Aurora Tourealis, the company who was providing Equinox’s touring crew, she had no need to showcase her affiliation with the band; every person working with them knew both her face and her attitude.

Murphy McNully, her partner in business and in life, leaned over to her from his wheelchair and pointed to something she had written down. They exchanged a few quiet words and she crossed something out. Looking up from her notes, her blue eyes swept the room.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do about the spotlight. Anything else on the technical side?”

Everyone was silent again, until Everett came out of his slouching position, downed the remains of his beer and looked at them out of narrowed eyes.

“Is no one going to address the giant fucking elephant in the room?” he asked incredulously.

Orion’s shoulders tensed at his words; there was no need for him to speak so harshly. “Speak your thoughts and you’ll be heard.”

Ignoring him, Everett leaned forward, underarms resting on his thighs and nodded at the broad shouldered redhead leaning against the wall next to Lizzie.

“We should be used to it by now, but as always, the pyros were a joke today. One step closer and I’d be short of my eyebrows.”

“That’s what we put the markings on the floor for,” Charlie Weasley replied sharply, not impressed by Everett’s unfriendly tone. “I don’t spend all day crawling around on stage for you to ignore them and then get pissed off with the results. Don’t criticise me when you can’t follow directions.”

Sitting upright, Everett opened his mouth to shoot back but Lizzie hurriedly cut him off. “To be totally fair, Charlie, the sound mix on my in-ear monitor wasn’t ideal either,” she said softly.

She placed a hand on Charlie’s arm as she continued, the aggressiveness in his demeanour lessening almost instantly. “It was alright and I could play without problems, but I had trouble hearing Merula at some points.”

Contrary to his reaction to Everett’s critique, Charlie looked at his childhood friend apologetically. “Why didn’t you say something during the soundcheck?”

Lizzie shrugged. “You were busy setting up the explosives, so I figured it would do.”

“But it doesn't,” Ethan chimed into the conversation. “If something is not perfect, you have to say so, Lizzie; it’s his job and he didn’t deliver properly.”

His attention turned to Murphy and KC, who were looking a little more tense than usual. ”How you manage your staff is none of my business, but if Charlie wants to manage the sound he should do so and not dabble with the pryos; this is not acceptable.”

“I’m not dabbling,” Charlie huffed, earning him an elbow into the side from Lizzie to shut him up.

Ignoring him, Ethan continued speaking with Murphy, “You still don’t have a new pyro tech to replace him, even though you had four weeks after you kicked the last one out. I’m not used to such unprofessionalism coming from you.”

Her face darkening, KC opened her mouth to put Ethan in his place, but Murphy quickly placed a hand on her knee to calm her down.

“I know that we had a suitable amount of time to hire someone new,” he explained matter-of-factly. “But as it is, doing an interview with possible candidates is not even 34.8 % of the battle. You need to see them working in action with the crew to properly assert whether they’re suited for the job.”

His gaze flickered to Charlie, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest; his freckled face had gone dark at the mention of his replacement. Murphy stifled a sigh, returning his focus to the discussion at hand.

“In fact, we’ll be reviewing another applicant first thing tomorrow morning. You know our rate at perfectly delivered jobs lies at 97.6 %, the rest being subjected to unexpected events and bad luck. There’s a reason you have worked with us for such a long time. We’re going to get the situation under control.”

Ethan gave him a hard stare. “You’d better.”

Before the tension in the room could get overboard, Orion cleared his throat. “It is good to see how we can learn from each other in our strive to achieve the best possible result for our fans. But even the most creative of minds cannot work properly if not in balance with the rest of the body. I suggest that McNully, KC and Charlie finish their tasks, while we go and let the day sink in.”

He eyed the container of Chinese food Merula was still holding sceptically. “I, for one, could use something real to eat.”

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snyde #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #lizzie jameson #lizion #when stars ignite #writer besties #besties collaborate

32 notes · View notes

lupinblacktheone · 3 years

Text

"So, I was thinking": a modern college!AU:

Johnny is bored. He has already finished all of his crosswords; all of his friends are busy minding their own business and won't pick up their phones.

Classes won't begin until next Monday. Johnny arrived at his dorm last night and he doesn't know when his roommate will be there. All he knows about this person is his name: LaRusso, Daniel.

Wondering about this mysterious boy could set Johnny free from his boredom. Is he a nerd? Or a drama kid? Johnny hopes he won't sing all the time. Of course he likes music (who doesn't?), but musicals... he isn't ready for them yet.

It would be nice to have some common likings with him. Maybe horror movies or breakfast for dinner (well, Johnny is so broke that he eats it for all meals, basically).

Remembering the old times, which weren't good, not at all, tugs at Johnny's heartstrings. He doesn't miss arguing with his parents all the time, but he certainly liked not having to iron his clothes himself. And he misses messing around with Tommy, Jimmy, Bobby and Dutch after school.

Oh, and Karate! Johnny misses it so much that it hurts. He couldn't find a Karate club to join (is this a thing? In Johnny's opinion, it should be. There are clubs for everything in this campus. If he can't find one, he'll form one). Maybe he can practice with Daniel and he could be the second member of the Karate club.

"Hello! I'm Daniel!"

Johnny stares at the boy. He's short, dark-haired and has round brown eyes.

"Johnny", the blond boy gets up, approaches Daniel and shakes his hand. "Can I help you unpacking?"

"Please", Daniel sighs and rubs his neck. "My mother just dropped me off and turned the car around. I barely had time to say goodbye. Can you believe it? I think she wants to rent my room while I'm gone, but I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. How about you?"

Obviously, the first thing Johnny learns about Daniel is: he's a chatterbox. Second thing: he's from Jersey. He lives with his mother and would love to learn martial arts, but her mother wouldn’t let him because she’s afraid he will get hurt.

"I know Karate", Johnny confesses with a little smile.

***

Sometimes, Johnny regrets having told Daniel about his passion for Karate, because the kid didn't stop begging Johnny for some classes until he finally gave up.

Their dorm is too small and they would destroy it sparring there, so Johnny decides to have the class outside, behind the gym. Daniel said he would meet Johnny there after dinner (and yes, Daniel also has breakfast for all meals, since he is just as broke as Johnny).

December is on the way, so Johnny is wearing as much sweaters as he can (including his Cobra Kai jacket). He leans his back against the red brick wall and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Daniel shows up some minutes later, carrying a heavy messenger bag on his shoulder and wrapped in hoodies and coats (he has lots of cool hoodies; Johnny loves to borrow them and he is using the baseball one right now).

"Ugh", Daniel puts the bag down, massaging his shoulder.

"Are you ok?", Johnny asks with a worried look on his face.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

They get on fighting positions and spar for a while. When they get tired, they walk back to their room, peacefully talking about the day.

"Let me carry this for you", Johnny picks the messenger bag, even though Daniel has already bent to pull it.

He places it over his shoulder and Daniel walks beside him, ranting about his lame Calculus professor.

"I couldn't convince Mrs. Warter to postpone the paper's due date", Johnny complains when Daniel asks about his day. "I'll be lucky if I get a C on it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

Yes, please, he almost answers. Johnny enjoys having Daniel around. They don't have many common likings besides Karate and breakfast food, but he really enjoys staying up late with him, sharing their only desk (Johnny begun to work as a cashier in a store near the campus and Daniel writes other people's assignments for money and they are saving money to improve the place) and laptops on study sessions. Or to spend rare and lazy Sundays in their room, doing crosswords (Daniel bought some magazines and gave to Johnny). Or to share breakfast meals in the middle of the night because they can't sleep.

"Are you free tonight?", he asks, his voice sounds desperate, just as his eyes.

"Is this a study session or a date?", Daniel replies jokingly and raises an eyebrow. "Sure. I can help you."

Johnny opens his laptop and shows Daniel what he's working on.

"I mean, it's not bad, but could use some adjustments here and there. Let's get to work."

Daniel presses the keyboard keys hard with strong movements that emulate a pianist, but with perfectly tied hair. His brain is formulating what should be in the text and getting rid of what shouldn't be read by Johnny's professor.

"I think we're done here", Daniel declares.

"Thanks. I'm gonna buy you a coffee tomorrow, with extra cream."

"Much appreciated", the boy winks and Johnny's heart skips a beat. "So, I was thinking..."

"What a miracle", Johnny teases, smiling to distract Daniel from his blushing ears.

"Anyway, are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"Also no. I don't have enough money for a ticket to Parsipanny."

Daniel looks at Johnny for a moment. His blue eyes are usually shiny, but now... he's more than just sad. Johnny looks depressed and scared.

"Are you alright?", Daniel reaches for Johnny's hand. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Johnny doesn't talk. Instead, he goes for a hug. A big and warm hug. He clings onto Daniel as if he was the only thing keeping him from being blown away.

He doesn't want to cry. However, he can't fight the tears anymore. Daniel holds Johnny, trying to keep him together only with his bare hands. He doesn't try to whisper comfort words in Johnny's ear, he just stays there, providing his roommate all the support he can.

That night, Johnny falls asleep in Daniel's arms. He has never felt this safe before.

The next morning, Johnny rushes to the closest cafe shop to get the nicest cup they have. He drops by the dorm to put the coffee on the desk with a note: To the best roommate ever. Thank you for everything. Love, J.

He sends the paper to Mrs. Warter as soon as he takes a seat in the computer lab for his first class, hoping Daniel's help can save his poor ass from failing Warter's class.

A few hours later, Johnny is waiting for the last class to begin so he can get to work. Not that he likes standing up by a counter telling old people where they can find raisins, plum juice and other things old people buy. But at least, he gets to listen to his music and does little pieces of homework between a client and another.

There is something Johnny can't do at the store: see Daniel. Too bad they don't take many classes together, because every time Johnny sees Daniel entering the classroom, the world changes. It becomes brighter and more beautiful. He knows it's cliché, but Johnny is tired of pretending to be the perfect son, athlete... he just wants to be Johnny.

And Johnny is brave.

"So, I was thinking...", Johnny says when Daniel sits by his side.

"That's unusual", Daniel lets out that amusement air through his nose. "What is it?"

"Do you wanna go out? With... with me?"

That is really unusual. Johnny never was this reticent before. Not even when he noticed he had a crush on Ali Mills.

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“How about Friday? My shift ends at 5:30.”

“Sounds great.”

***

Johnny spends Christmas in his dorm, with Daniel. They curl up on Johnny’s bed, wrapped in Daniel’s hoodies, solving crosswords puzzles and drinking tea while listening to Johnny’s music. Neither of them wants to talk about their families.

Growing up as an only child, Johnny never had to share his things. He wouldn’t even allow Ali to read his poetry (he wrote some about her, tho), or let his friends go through his Spotify playlist. Not because he's embarrassed to like these songs, but because the lyrics describe him so perfectly that he's not comfortable with someone listening to it in front of him.

When he met Daniel and found out they could be good friends (maybe more than that? Johnny certainly hopes so), he felt an urge to take the boy on a journey through his world. First, they shared Karate, then crossword puzzles and went on and on, discovering little things about one another.

“Huh… I couldn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I wrote you a poem. Wanna hear it?”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just gets closer to him as Johnny clears his throat and searches his notebook for his newest composition. Once he finds it, he puts the paper in front of his eyes (he was brave enough to ask the boy out, but not to have that lovely brown eyes gazing at him while he reads his feelings out.)

“I loved it, Johnny. Now get ready for your present.”

Johnny doesn’t close his eyes when his lips are pressed by Daniel’s mouth. It feels so good that they do it again and again until they fall asleep, holding each other.

***

Graduation is almost here. Most students have moved from the dorms or plan to do it soon. Daniel and Johnny, on the other hand, haven’t mentioned the matter yet. As you can imagine, they don’t want to live with their families again. The only thing Johnny wants is to stay with Daniel and he wonders if Daniel wants the same thing.

“Hey, Danny”, it was supposed to be a nice and quiet study session before the finals, but Johnny can’t hold this down any longer. “I was thinking… do you wanna live with me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re never getting rid of me, blondie.”

#lawrusso #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #college au #fanfic #Johnny's POV

29 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

want to be tagged?(please say it’s for red)

#red #red fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland series #tom holland imagine

124 notes · View notes