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clear-as-starlight · 3 years ago

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Nathan Hale’s Death vs the Primary Sources

(aka did William Hull actually know anything?)

“The first the Americans heard of Hale’s death was on the evening of the twenty-second [September 1776], when Captain John Montresor…an aide de camp to General Howe, approached an outpost…under flag of truce. His main business…did not concern Hale, but was to transport to Washington a letter from Howe offering an exchange of high-ranking prisoners. Joseph Reed, accompanied by General Israel Putnam and Captain Alexander Hamilton, rode to meet him. After passing over the letter, he casually added that one Nathan Hale, a Captain, had been executed that morning.”

This passage comes from “Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring” by Alexander Rose and it, along with the wonderful @queerrevolution1776 inspired me to go on a (brief) primary source deep dive of Hale’s death. A challenge, given the lack of primary sources surrounding Hale’s spy work, and the tall tales that grew up around it.

I started here: Why was Hamilton there? He was not an aide-de-camp at this point, why would he be present? And that question, my friends, led to a whole host of others!

(Info under the cut because there is a lot, and it’s fascinating :))

The (Un)reliability of Recollection

The idea of Hamilton having been present to hear of Hale’s fate, so far as I can see, is first related in “Revolutionary Services and Civil Life of General William Hull”, a biography based on Hull’s unpublished memoirs, and written by his daughter, Maria Hull Campbell:

“In a few days, an Officer came to our camp, under a flag of truce, and informed Hamilton, then a Captain of the Artillery, but afterwards an aide to General Washington, that Captain Hale had been arrested within the British lines, condemned as a Spy, and executed that morning. I learned the melancholy particulars from this officer, who was present at his execution, and seemed touched by the circumstances attending it.”

William Hull was a friend of Hale’s from Yale, and they were both in the 19th Regiment, before Hale transferred to Knowlton’s Rangers. A lot of what we know of Hale’s death seems to come from Hull’s memoirs, right down to his (possibly incorrect and/or exaggerated) final words: “I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country.” Hull was a close friend of Hale’s, so it does make some sense that he’d know something of it. However, the above biography was written in 1848, and related conversations that had taken place a long time earlier. Campbell herself admits she includes conversations not even present in her father’s memoirs.

Though her book is not the only 18th/19th century one about Hale’s death, it quickly became clear that all of them were based on conversations with Hull. The first time the name ‘Nathan Hale’ even entered the public conscious properly after the war was in 1799, in Hannah Adams’ “A Summary History of New England and General Sketch of the American War” where she writes: “The compiler of this History of New England is indebted to Gen. Hull of Newton for this interesting account of Captain Hale.”

Hale isn’t mentioned again until 1824, in a book by Jedediah Morse, who says he got his info from Adams, who in turn got it from Hull. It seems likely, then, that the idea of Hamilton being there (and indeed, that most of what we know) came from Hull’s supposed recollection, 20+ years after the event took place.

Now, this is not to say that Hull was lying. Return records show that he and his Regiment were certainly present at “Camp near to Harlem Heights” with Washington’s forces at the time that Washington would have been given the information about Hale, and we know Hamilton and his Artillery were present also, as it is at Harlem Heights that he apparently first came to Washington’s notice (according to John C. Hamilton). It did seem a bit strange though, to both me and @queerrevolution1776 , for Hull or Hamilton to have met with an official flag of truce, when they were both only Captains, and not on Washington’s staff (he’d only just become aware of Hamilton’s existence, after all).

Washington makes no mention of either of them in his correspondence, instead writing to Jonathan Trumbull Sr. that it was Colonel Joseph Reed whom Howe’s aide, John Montresor, met with. It makes sense that Reed would have met with Montresor, given his position on Washington’s staff. Reed is mentioned in Rose’s book, but not Hull’s account, and I thought that was a discrepancy worth a look. Hull, writing after the fact, mentions only Hamilton, who by then was a well-known, and scandalous, public figure. Reed, on the other hand, was nowhere near as popular, and perhaps did not serve as such an interesting figure in a story about Hull’s friend, one of America’s earliest spies.

Sure, Hamilton could have been nearby, or overheard the discussion, and in turn told Hull what he had heard—which could explain why Hale’s last moments have been exaggerated, or perhaps accidentally falsified, given that a British officer who was present apparently heard: “It the duty of every good officer, to obey any orders given him by his commander in chief” and not what is so often recounted. Even a newspaper (The Essex Journal) publishing an account five months later, quoted Hale as having said: “If I had ten thousand lives I would lay them all down, if called to it, in defence of my injured, bleeding country”—No one seems quite able to agree exactly what he said! Hull may well have also told his children he was there to make the story seem more personal, and exciting.

(And I’m really starting to doubt that Hamilton was at the meeting at all. It’s never mentioned in any of his writing, or in the John C Hamilton biography)

There’s no “official” reports of Hale’s death either (excepting the noting of his death on the 22nd September casualty list) which is why so much has relied heavily on what Hull claimed to have been told. When Washington wrote Trumbull about the flag of truce meeting the next day, he was mostly concerned with the fire that had engulfed New York the day before, and the claims that Continental soldiers and spies had set it. The only possible reference we have from him that concerned the meeting between Reed and Montresor, with perhaps an oblique reference to Hale, is as follows:

“On Friday night about eleven or twelve o’Clock a fire broke out in the City of New York, which burning rapidly till after Sunrise next morning, destroyed a great number of Houses—By what means it happened we do not know; but the Gentleman who brought the letter out last night from General Howe, and who was one of his Aid De Camps informed Colo. Reed that several of our Countrymen had been punished with various deaths on account of it. Some by hanging, others by burning & c. alledging that they were apprehended when committing the fact.”

Howe himself never mentioned Hale explicitly in official correspondence between him and Washington, and Washington never did either. In fact, neither of them mentioned the spies or the fire to one another at all, concerned with prisoner exchanges, and the accusation of ill-treatment of British prisoners (Howe to Washington 21st September 1776 and Washington to Howe 23rd September 1776). Hale, and his fate, was unfortunately left to Montresor’s verbal account, and Hull’s dubious reporting.

Tench Tilghman on Hale’s Death

In terms of other primary correspondence that might reference Hale’s death, even remotely, we have accounts from Washington’s aide-de-camp, Tench Tilghman.

Firstly, Tilghman wrote his father, James Tilghman, on the 25th September 1776, of the events and executions surrounding the fire. He was sent to deliver Washington’s reply to Howe’s camp under another flag of truce the day after Montresor’s, and spoke with some men in Howe’s camp then:

“Reports concerning the setting fire to New York: If it was done designedly, it was without the knowledge or Approbation of any commanding officer in this Army…every man belonging to the Army who remained in or were found near the City were made close prisoners. Many Acts of barbarous cruelty were committed upon poor creatures who were perhaps flying from the flames, the Soldiers and Sailors looked upon all who were not in the military line as guilty, and burnt and cut to pieces many. But this I am sure was not by Order. Some were executed next day upon good Grounds… I went down to the Enemy's lines yesterday with a Flag to settle the Exchange of prisoners…I met a very civil Gentleman with whom I had an Hours conversation…”

In Rose’s book, he mentions Hull & Colonel Samuel B. Webb going with Tilghman to the camp to further question Montresor about Hale. Webb, another aide-de-camp to Washington, may well have gone. But it seems a bit strange for Hull to have done so. And Hull’s account did not mention Webb, or Tilghman, which is also a bit odd. Rose made no note of his source for this, but I’d like to find it! Perhaps it’s mentioned in Webb’s journals, something I’d have to travel to Yale to see :(

Tilghman did, eventually, mention Hale explicitly, though not by name, when he wrote to Egbert Benson on 3rd October 1776:

“I am sorry that your Convention do not think themselves legally authorized to make examples of those villains they have apprehended…The General is determined if he can bring some of them in his hand’s under the denomination of spies, to execute them. General Howe hanged a Captain of ours belonging to Knowlton' s Rangers, who went into New-York to make discoveries. I don’t see why we should not make retaliation.”

So he definitely knew of Hale’s death by then, and it seemed to anger him greatly.

Miscellaneous Reports of Hale’s Death

There were also reports made by various others, that mention explicitly, or might imply, Hale’s death:

“Friday last we discovered a vast cloud of smoke arising from the north part of the city, which continued '‘ill Saturday evening…those that were found on or near the spot were pitched into the conflagration, some hanged by their heals, others by their necks with their throats cut. Inhuman barbarity! One Hale in New York, on suspicion of being a spy, was taken up and dragged without ceremony to the execution post and hung up.” (A Letter from September 28th 1776)

“We hanged up a rebel spy the other day, and some soldiers got, out of a rebel Gentleman’s garden, a painted soldier on a board, and hung it along with the Rebel; and wrote upon it, General Washington, and I saw it yesterday beyond headquarters by the roadside.” (Kentish Gazette, November 1776)

“A spy from the enemy (by his own full confession) apprehended last night, was this day executed at 11 o’clock in front of Artillery Park.” (General Howe’s diary)

“The Enemy charged some stragglers of our people that happened to be in New York with having set the City on Fire designedly and took that occasion as we were told to exercise some inhuman Crueltys on those poor Wretches that were in their power.” (Committee of Secret Correspondence to Silas Deane 1st October 1776)

What does all this mean?

Hamilton probably wasn’t there (but I can’t make a call on that for sure!)

basically, it’s clear that the primary sources on Hale’s death are few, and somewhat contradictory in places. I found it super interesting, and thought y’all might too! Please keep in mind I’m not calling William Hull a liar (and I definitely haven’t done anywhere near enough research to say anything conclusively!)

But I definitely think it’s always worth examining what we think we know from primary sources. And it’s very fun!

#this took me literal days to collate so I hope y’all find it as interesting as I did #should’ve been doing uni work but no regrets #we all know history research makes me ridiculously happy #nathan hale #William Hull #alexander hamilton #tench tilghman #spy work #September 1776 #american revolution #amrev #tw: death #izz gets historical #izz rambles

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dienamights · 4 years ago

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Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s): Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.”

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to-

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?”

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now.

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week.

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No! He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.”

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario.

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,”

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-”

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.”

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight.

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn��t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it.

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?”

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high.

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly.

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you.

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed.

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

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mvttsvn · 4 years ago

Text

Useless [pt1]

Modern college!au

toxic Eren x gn!reader

warnings: angst, explicit themes, dubcon, embarrassment, manipulation, degradation, OOC, cussing, and typos

authors note: this has been sittin in my drafts for months I just haven’t had the motivation to finish. there will be a part 2 with smut I just wanted to get this out first.

part 2

Eren liked to think he was a pretty simple guy. He’d meet someone, use them for his benefit, lead them on till he didn’t need them anymore, then disappear. A sick trick that he used to manipulate all kinds of people. Life really can be easy with the right looks and a smooth voice. He and only ever got what he needed. He understands how selfish it is. But gotten him this far, so what would be the point in changing.

Unfortunately, you had been one of the unlucky few to get caught up in his schemes. Let’s be honest it wasn’t a surprise, you knew of him before. A few of your friends pinned over him for being the cute nicotine-addicted guy who couldn’t care less about World Literature 1-2. But you believed each and everyone of of his sweet little promises. “No you’re so special, I think I’m gonna keep you around for a long time sweetheart.” Deception dripping from his lips as he gave you a sinful grin.

You should’ve known...

It’s been a few months now since Eren blocked and deleted your number for his phone, the last time you spoke was when he texted you to thank you for helping him pass his English final. You replied with asking if he wanted to get lunch the following day only to be left with your text never going through. That motherfucker. Of course you were angry, mostly at yourself though. You tried not to sulk about it yet every time you’d go out you’d dress up a little then you would usually just in case you’d see him. And luckily he wasn’t in any of your classes this semester either so it would be easier to forget him.

At this point you haven’t thought of Eren in weeks, you’ve focused yourself in uni and started taking assignments and things more seriously. That was until one of Eren’s roommates unknowingly took a seat next to you in your intro to ethics course.

You’ve been to Eren’s apartment a multitude of times. You knew who his roommates were, even after having a few conversations in the late morning with them after you would spend the night. Armin, who was too engrossed from whatever was on his phone plopped his books right next to you and took a seat not sparing you a glance. Once you professor started speaking he locked his phone slipping it into his pocket and glance around the room. Once he looked at you his blue eye widened and he sorta whispered “oh hey! y/n didn’t know you were in here”

You shrugged and gave a polite smile while turning back to look at the front of the room to stare through one of the windows above the projector screen. It’s not like you hated Armin, he was very kind and never judged you when you’d take the walk of shame in the morning through Eren’s kitchen, it’s just you know that this interaction would eventually lead back to him and that made you nervous.

A week or two passed and Armin continued to sit next you, you supposed it was more comfortable for him because it didn’t look like he knew anyone else in this class, neither did you. Nor were you complaining he’d give you notes and lend you his book when you would forget. Not much conversation would happen between you either, a simple hello and other small talk would occur nothing more. A very professional relationship.

Yet when your professor assigned a partner projects you and Armin both looked at each other like :| and silently agreed to work together. It was just easier that way. The assignment wasn’t due for another 2 weeks so you had confidence that you wouldn’t have to grind at the end of the this week to do it. Until Armin caught your arm as you were leaving.

“Hey sorry to ask but would it be ok if we could work on this after school? I have a lot of stuff due this week and I’m in a bit of a time crunch.” He shyly laughed hoping you weren’t busy.

You held in a sigh “Uhh sure, can I meet you at 5 tho..I have a thing-”.

“Yeah! That’d be fine, my place?”

You kinda really didn’t want to go to his place, “yea!”

You both continued listening to your teacher’s lecture while your mind was elsewhere, you didn’t have anything after school you just wanted to go home for a bit and prepare for who you may or may not see at Eren’s Armins apartment. By the end of the day you raced home, flopping onto your bed, this was a bad idea, why didn’t you just ask for him to meet at the library or something?? This situation could’ve been a whole lot simpler if you just offered your place instead. Hell you don’t have any unconventional roommates you sleep with him so it’s just unfair. At 4:45 you gather your things and drove over to Armin’s apartment. You knocked on the door, your nerves going haywire.

You’re greeted by Armin he smiled and opened the door for you letting you walk inside. You took a glance to the side and luckily Eren’s familiar beat up tennis shoes weren’t by the door. At least you could relax for a little while, hopefully he wouldn’t come home till you were gone.

Jean was sitting on the couch watching some action movie at a low volume with Connie who was fast asleep curled up with a throw pillow. The lights in the living room were dim with the curtains on the windows shut. Yet you could still see from the light in the kitchen that shone from above the counter. Jean gave you a nod, “welcome back” he half whispered as he tipped his drink at you. You smiled and waved and made your way into Armin’s room. You sat at the edge of his desk in a borrowed kitchen chair, as he joined you sitting in his computer chair in front of his desktop. He left his door slightly ajar letting you see right through into the kitchen and front door, which made you slightly on edge. Armin started going over the project, opening a document, and reading through a few paragraphs. You tried your best you to concentrate but you were too paranoid. Every so often a loud noise from Jean’s movie on the tv would make you whip your head towards the door. About an hour in you and Armin had crunched through about a few paragraphs and of your project, to Armin’s mistake you guys definitely weren’t going to finish tonight. Hopefully the next time you’d offer your place instead.

After another 30 minutes you and Armin gave up, eventually you guys made your way back into the living room. You went to the door to gather your things until Jean and Connie basically begged you to stay and watch another movie with them. You didn’t want to, you knew if you stayed any longer the possibility of Eren coming home would increase. But when Connie got up from the couch and handed you a drink, you gave in. As you sat down you began slightly regretting your decision. Why were you staying? You and Armin were finished you can go home.

You asked yourself this when you heard keys jangle outside the door and the click of the lock. It’s roughly pushed open and Eren moves into the room, swiftly locking it behind him. “Hey man” Jean calls, you immediately tense next to Armin and fix a stare at the tv. You’re too aware of your surroundings right now to know what happening but you need a distraction. You can see his movement in your peripheral, Eren saunters in to the dark living room to stand by the opposite of the end of the couch from you. when he spots you, you can feel his blazing stare in your skull, he laughs out a scoff and the room goes silent, except for the low murmur of the tv.

The air is tense and awkward and everybody can see your apprehension. your heart it beating in your ears and you can feel you palms starting to sweat. The sounds of the tv are immediately drowned out when Eren breathes our your name. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grips the arm of the couch and places his left hand on his hip. You slowly turn your head to look him in the eyes when Armin speaks up trying to lighten the situation “We had a project for sadis’ class”

Your eyes dart between Eren and Armin when Eren snides, “hmm...well it doesn’t look like your working on it”

“hey layoff man” Jean gives him a side eye. “Yeah we finished just a few minutes ago.” Armin adds.

“It was just a question” Eren shrugs. You can believe him, he such a fucking asshole, you’re staring at him in disbelief when he meets your eyes again he laughs “what did you miss me or somethin?” His grin is sickening, you feel the embarrassment hot on your face yet what can you do in the situation? If you leave you’ll destroy your pride and yet if you stay what if you give in to him again?

Your frozen in your seat you nails digging shapes into you palms as you clench them together. You feel the stare of everyone one in the room and it makes you want to cry. He tilts his head “can’t you speak? what wrong?” the malice in his voice makes your ears burn. You want to scream, you want to run, but he slowly walks right in front of you and holds out his hand. “C’mon”

You can leave at any moment, the door is only a few feet away yet you cautiously place your palm into his as he hauls you up from your seat. No one says anything as you guys leave the room, what a complicated situation this is huh?

As he opens his door you try to glace back at the others yet he roughly pulls your arm though and slams his bedroom door. You hope they don’t blame you too much for going with him. You stand in the middle of a very familiar room, one you’ve visited many times yet you’re too scared too move from the spot you currently occupy. He turns to face you locking the door behind him and takes a few steps forward. You look at the floor as you begin speaking “Eren I-”

“ohhhh so you can talk?”

“yes’ you puff.

He fits his hand under your chin proceeding to squish your cheeks to face him. “I don’t like you hanging out with them when I’m not around” his hot breath fan your face and you widen your eyes. The audacity. “What do you mean, were not even together anymo-” you voice smothered by his grip.

He tips his head back and see concern in his eyes, its almost like he was hurt by your words, “Yes we are” his eyebrows scrunched together. You go to spit out another sentence when his hand moves to cover you entire mouth, he brings face to your ear, “You wound me y/n, how could you think that? I thought you loved me?” Why does he sounds so genuine? Your mind is fuzzy with confusion, of course he’s lying, you would never in a million years utter those words to him during the short time you were together. Yet the pain in his voice and the grip on your jaw is making you dizzy, his hot breath on your ear and neck are causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

Your smaller hand goes to grip his forearm that's holding your face. He moved to look into your eyes. The dim light from the lamp in the far corner of the room casts a shadow upon his face, yet his deep green eyes seem to glow. He slowly moves his hand away placing it on your shoulder as his free hand moves to your hip. You want to yell at him, ask his why he’s doing this to you, but you place your palm softly onto his chest and drop your head in shame, “I’m sorry..i..I didn’t know” you whispered.

His warm hand goes to caress your cheek and moves into your hair lightly pulling to make you face him. “It’s ok babe, you just have to make it up to me” his chest rumbles underneath your hands as you eye widen. “You can do that, right?” You slowly nod your head and bunch his t-shirt under your fingers. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and lead you towards his bed in the corner of the room. He takes a seat on his dark blue comforter and your stand in front of him. Your hands lightly holding onto his index fingers as he carefully rocks them back and forth. You take another look at his face and see the artificial softness slowly fade away into something dark, and conspiring.

“On your knees babe” his voice sounding rougher than before. You begin another protest but he takes his warm palms and encircles your waist to urge you down. You slowly fall to your knees, your hands on his thighs while digging your nails into his rough jeans. Your mind slowly starts to unfog and start realizing what your doing. Your shame and regret tug at your heart and you feel the tears begin to prick your eyes. You look up at Eren and see the distain in his eyes. He hums and caresses you shoulder. You wept into your chest as you feel the air being stolen from your lungs Eren moves his calloused hand to your throat and tugs to make you look him in the eyes.

Why did you have to be so damn proud?

#eren angst #eren jeager #eren yeager #aot eren #eren imagines #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager x you #eren fic.📗#useless series.mvt

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t3tsubaby · 4 years ago

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Hiii can you do tsukki one where reader is vv shy and insecure about herself anddd she's always been told she's annoying and talkative and she stays awake all night and just forgets to eat sometimes kinda basically not taking care of herself and can it be angst to fluff w tsukki just using all this and more against her but then regretting ofc and boom fluff alsooo can it be in uni????

Thank you smmm for doing thiss

yes this is basically me plz don't judge 😭😭

Aw, this is such a cute idea, I hope I can give you what you requested!! Also, I’m not judging dw haha I’m the biggest fan of angst to fluff fics.

Tired

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

Typing up your final paragraph for your English Composition class, you clicked submit and shut your laptop. Finally, you were feeling free from the burden of university. For now of course. But you decided to make the most of it and wanted to go visit your boyfriend who lived in a different dorm hall. After cracking your back and stretching your body, you changed into a casual yet very relaxed outfit compared to your previous pair of pajamas.

You began walking outside, feeling the rays of the sun on your body. This just added to your happy expression. Not only were you excited to see your boyfriend, but the weather was nice, and you finished all your work for the week. You sped over to his dorm hall and got one of his friends to open the door for the building and his room. You saw him on his computer, probably doing some research for internships. You slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and greeted him.

“Hi Kei, what’re you doing?” you asked curiously. It was almost as if you could see the lines of irritation growing on his forehead.

“Just on my computer, you can sit on my bed or something,” he replied with a flat tone.

“Oh alright. Well actually since it’s Friday do you wanna catch up on Jujutsu Kaisen? The season finale comes out today and I’m really excited. I know we haven’t been able to watch the last few episodes so we can watch them today. From what I’ve read in the manga, I’m pretty sure we’ll see-,” you rambled on, but were cut off.

“God can you shut up you’re so annoying right now! I don’t want you here. You’re so talkative and irritating, shut up and go back to your room!,” Tsukishima yelled. Left in shock, you didn’t know what to say. Your brain completely blanked and suddenly you felt your body feeling hot with embarrassment.

“Oh.. uh sorry. I’ll jus-,” “Do you not understand simple language? Are you that dumb? Get out.” he hissed at you. You looked up into his eyes for some support, even a glint of love, but you were only met with cold and hateful eyes. Not wanting to cause any more problems, you quickly walked out of his room, shutting the door. Your hands were shaking and you felt very uneasy.

You got some stares from people on the streets as a few tears were slipping from your eyes.

Once you reached your room you shut the door, took off your shoes, and flopped onto your bed, not bothering to turn the lights on. His words were replaying in your head.

You’re so annoying. You’re so talkative. You’re so irritating. You’re so dumb.

Another tear slipped out but you were quick to wipe it away. You spent the entire night thinking about how much his words hurt. After all, how could you sleep when your heart felt like it was in your stomach? You only realized it was morning when your 7 AM alarm began making noises. You turned it off and sat up to check your phone. Having a shred of hope that maybe he texted you to apologize, you had come to realize Kei hadn’t messaged or called. Not a single notification or sense of acknowledgment. The unsettling feeling in your stomach grew, which filled your stomach with any food your body may crave. How could you eat when your boyfriend thought of you so low.

You laid back down in bed and decided to stare at the ceiling. This routine had continued for a few days. You didn’t even realize the toll it had taken on your body until you decided to get up and get ready to try and distract yourself. Those past few days your thoughts were only consumed with what Tsukishima had said to you. You had barely slept and you were eating barely anything, often forgetting to drink water. Standing up, you felt your legs begin shaking underneath you and the last thing you saw was the carpet in your dorm before passing out.

Tsukishima had just woken up from his slumber. After pulling two all-nighters in a row, with his diet only consisting of $1 ramen and red bulls, he deserved lots of rest. Feeling a blush on his cheeks he got out of bed, excited to see you. However, as soon as he pulled himself out of bed he remembered just what he said to you a few days prior. He felt guilt and shame ooze out of his head and quickly came to the decision to go see you. He felt like his heart was beating at 20x the normal speed as he sprinted to your dorm. After getting a friend of yours to open the room for the hall, he opened the door only to see you lying on the ground.

He rushed to your figure on the ground, the only feeling in his body feeling panic. He picked you up and set you on the bed with your head on his lap and a hand on the top of your head. His thumb brushed upon your nose, eyebrows, and the other beautiful features of your face. He felt disgusted with himself. How could he say that about the person he’s loved for years? Tsukishima pulled a blanket over your figure after seeing your body shivering. Looking closely at your face, he saw the bags under your eyes and how your cheeks had gotten a bit shallow. “I’m so sorry my love,” he whispered to you before kissing your forehead.

Slowly stirring, you adjusted yourself to the feeling of being in bed, only to realize your head was in your boyfriend's lap. You began to scooch away from him in fear of bothering him.

“Wait please don’t. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry y/n. I never should’ve said those things. I don’t even know why I said that I was just so stressed and barely eating and not sleeping and I know those aren’t excuses and there is no excuse for what I said. I don’t think any words can show how sorry I am,” he rambled, beginning to cry. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry please y/n,” he finished, fully crying at this point.

You sat a foot away from him crying as well. Slowly you put a hand on his face. He looked up and you grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers.

“Can I hold you?” he asked gently with his head down in shame.

“Okay,” you replied, unsure of your feelings.

He pulled you into his arms, engulfing you in a warm hug, hiding his face in your neck.

After a few minutes of hugging, he let go of you and began speaking.

“We need to get you something to eat and then you’re going to bed,” he spoke, looking into your eyes. You looked into his golden eyes and only saw the love you’re used to. You gave a soft smile and nodded your head. He stood up and set out a hand for you to hold, pulling you into his arms while standing up. He pulled you into his arms again, wanting to show you the love and affection you deserved.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyū!!#tsukki scenarios #tsukishima scenarios #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukki x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukki x y/n #tsukki brainrot #tsukki drabble #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima kei

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got-svt · 4 years ago

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radio star: a svt social media au

summary: when yn accepts a job at her campus’ radio station her first year in uni, she didn’t expect she’d be anonymously singing stressed out university students to sleep. now, a year and a half in, she didn’t expect that there’d be people trying to figure out her identity either. genre: college au, slice of life, humor, fluff, angst pairing: ??? x f!reader

(masterlist)

warning: please don’t read unless you’ve read/been to part thirty-four !! this is the endgame point so tread cautiously ! but if you have read it or you came from there, then…enjoy;)

part thirty-five: worth it

Wonwoo held his breath, waiting for you to hang up. Maybe you’d tell him goodbye, thank him for being such a good friend and all the advice he had given you these past few weeks. His heart ached at the thought of you rejecting him, but part of him expected it anyways. He should’ve been more forward, more bold in his advances towards you. But he was terrified, the thought of losing you as a friend was much too great a fear for him to risk on something as silly as his emotions. There were multiple moments that he just wanted to tell you, to exclaim to the world that you were the one he wanted, and each time he found himself biting down his tongue — denying himself the simple pleasure of openly expressing his feelings. Wonwoo shut his eyes, it was too late to feel any sort of regret now. Not when he had multiple opportunities to actually make a move.

He was halfway back to the dorms when you called him, his ringtone blasting through what would’ve been a quiet walk home. Wonwoo knew you weren’t feeling okay earlier, he’d spent so much time with you that he could easily read most of the emotions that made its way onto your features — whether it was happiness, anger, or embarrassment, he knew all the clues that suggested a certain emotion. He wanted to prod further into your claim that you were fine, but your years of friendship came with a certain kind of patience and trust, you’d tell him when you were ready and he was more than willing to help you out. He always was.

There weren’t too many people out on the street at that point in the afternoon and he had been lucky enough to spot a nearby bench when he answered your call. Wonwoo immediately knew something was wrong, you didn’t have to say anything the moment he picked up, you wouldn’t have called him everything was truly okay. He sat down, wanting to give you all of his attention, you were going to need it if you were distressed enough to actually call him not even hours after he left your side.

Wonwoo heard your voice, quiet and shaky, and it took everything in him not to run to you then and there. He kept his feet glued on the concrete beneath him, ignoring the twinges of heartache that made its way straight into his chest. It didn’t take him long to realize where you were going with that call, what exactly it was you wanted from him. You were about to make a decision, and you were afraid.

Afraid of how he’d react? Possibly. Wonwoo’s mind went into overdrive at the very thought, were you afraid that you were going to hurt him? Oh no, of course you weren’t going to choose him, he never had a shot anyways.

Wonwoo took a shaky breath of his own, letting cool late afternoon air fill his lungs, he should get it over with now. The sooner this call ended, the sooner he could fall back on his bed and let the pain fully consume him.

“Please don’t think about how we will react to it, at this moment that doesn’t matter. What matters is what you feel. We’re grown ups, we can handle heartbreak. Sure it will hurt, but we can move on. I can’t speak for the others, but I just want you happy. Even if I won’t be the one to bring you that. The only question you need to ask yourself isn’t ‘what about the people I hurt’, it’s ‘who is the one I love?’ ”

His voice lacked the usual confidence it did whenever he gave you advice, but he hoped you wouldn’t notice, he hoped harder that you wouldn’t call him out on it if you did.

Wonwoo waited for your response, seconds stretched into what felt like hours for him. He kept his gaze down on his feet, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill. The sound of your breathing was soft, but he could hear it, you were thinking.

“Wonwoo?”

Your voice startled him, sitting completely upright in shock. There was some hesitation in your voice, like you were wondering if you should even continue speaking. His heart shattered, you were about to break his heart, weren’t you? He sighed, Wonwoo figured that he would have to quickly move things along, rip the band-aid off for both of you.

“Yn, it’s okay, I can handle rejec—”

“It’s you.”

You cut him off before he could even finish speaking, his eyes went wide. This couldn’t be real, this definitely wasn’t real. Has the sky always been this alluring shade of purple and orange? One hand held his phone tighter, the other gripped the edge of the bench, his knuckles almost turning white.

“What?” He sputtered out, surprised at himself for being able to find his own voice.

“It’s always been you.” You breathed out, traces of a smile evident in your words and voice — like you were just now figuring it out too. “You’re the one I love.”

Wonwoo hung up, the flat dial tone ringing in your ear, almost like it was mocking you for confessing. Your breath gets caught in your throat, have you been reading things wrong this entire time?

You sighed, unable to stop the tears that freely fell from your eyes, you didn’t think it would go this way. Well, you didn’t know exactly what to expect so you couldn’t be too mad at yourself, or Wonwoo either. So why did your chest still ache, heart constricting and squeezing as you gasped for any amount of air that you could inhale. Why did you hold onto that tiny sliver of hope for so long, the hope that he could possibly love you back? Did he only really see you as a friend? Was it a mistake even confessing in the first place?

But it was true, he was the one you loved. At the end of the day, at the end of everything that has happened to you in the past few weeks, he’s the one you wanted. It was always Wonwoo, he was the one who stuck by you through everything, who was always on your side no matter what, who took care of you from the sidelines. He was the one who made you feel excited to go to the studio, because you knew he’d be there working with you. He’s the reason you looked forward to walking home in the afternoon, because you spent it walking beside him. He’s the one you could talk to about anything and everything without judgement, maybe some slight teasing, but you knew you could let your walls down around him.

It pained you that he didn’t feel the same.

That he didn’t feel the same rush of emotions that you did. The way heat colored your cheeks whenever your hands would accidentally brush, the giddiness that came with knowing you’d be spending almost an entire day together, the way working never really felt like work because you were around each other and somehow his very presence enough made you feel comfortable and at ease.

But he didn’t feel all that.

Why else would he hang up on you?

Maybe he was freaked out by the suddenness of your confession, you had been friends for so long that it must’ve been difficult for him to see you in any other way. You just wished he told you that he wasn’t interested instead of abruptly hanging up.

A loud knocking on your door interrupted your thoughts, it was rapid, incessant, like the person on the other side of the wall couldn’t possibly wait to be left in. You wiped your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, trying your best to make yourself look as presentable as possible for your unexpected guest. You knew there was no point to it though, your eyes were probably puffy, cheeks red, and nose runny.

“Who could this be?” You muttered, angry and annoyed at the disturbance, all you wanted was to have one good cry before you had to face anyone again the following day.

“What?” You called out, opening the door with so much force that for a brief moment you were afraid that you were going to tear your arm off.

To your surprise, Wonwoo was the one at your door. He was bent over, hands on his knees, panting as a thin layer of sweat coated his entire face.

“Did you run over here or something?” Your head was tilted to the side, blinking back wildly at the sight in front of you.

Wonwoo responded by engulfing you in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you, making you step back a bit at the force of his actions. It didn’t even matter that he was slightly sweaty from what you assume was the run he took to make his way over to your doorstep. Your heartbeat sped up, you were sure that Wonwoo could hear it, feel it even as your body was pressed closely to his.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke, Wonwoo’s lips close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I have been for the longest time.”

You pulled back ever so slightly to look at him, “Then why did you hang up?”

“I would be doing you a disservice if I did it over the phone.” He looked back at you, wiping away the tear streaks still left on your face. You could tell he felt bad about making you cry, you saw it in the way his head was tilted to the side, how his bottom lip jutted out in the smallest of pouts. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Is that some sort of jab at me because I told you over the phone?” Your brows furrowed, lightly hitting him in the chest. Of course he teases you not even seconds after confessing his own feelings. You were about to make a teasing retort of your own, mouth parted just as the words were ready to leave your lips, when you heard him chuckle. Light and airy, almost as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. Genuine warmth and happiness radiated off of him, it was infectious and anyone could feel it from miles away.

“I’m just glad you feel the same way.”

“I do.” The furrow in your brows disappeared, the look of fake annoyance turning into one of serenity. Part of you couldn’t believe you had waited this long to tell him, but you knew it was right. All of it was to lead to this very moment. “I’m sorry, it took me so long to realize it.”

Wonwoo smiled the softest of smiles, his gaze on you tender — like you were the only thing possibly worth looking at. A hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly grazing the skin underneath, “It’s okay, you’re worth it.”

Your hand moves on its own, gently resting above his as you melted into his touch. Wonwoo pulled you closer to his chest, placing a small kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on top your head, a content sigh escaping his lips. In that moment you knew: you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were home, and there was nowhere else you would rather be.

wonwoo’s epilogue <33

#radio star svt au

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pastrygeckos · 3 years ago

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The millennial existence is just like, a long number of things you now know you should've done, but that your parents and society misled you about horribly. There are some changes happening within my partner's workplace that causes extra uncertainty, and he was saying like "I should've picked up a trade, plumbing or something. I'd just be really safe, tradespeople always have work, and get paid decently."

I feel like the millennial experience often includes the same types of "milestone" moments:

You're starting high school. You have to pick a major. You pick something around media/communications/languages/being creative, etc. because you're too exhausted with regular school.

You realise everyone else has done the same thing. There's too many of you, you switch subject for college/uni.

You have to work while studying, and eventually working takes over, due to their unreasonable terms.

You think "well, I'm good at this job, I can just do this now". A few years later you regret not having picked up a trade, because your wishy-washy current job teaches you that there are millions of you, and you're all entirely disposable.

And then covid hit and you're exhausted. You work, sleep, work, sleep. Apparently you could've been doing this job from home this whole time, even though you were told it was impossible despite your chronic illness, etc.

Your goals have been the same since you were 16, and never since really changed - you just want steady housing at a doable price with a little kitchen and some books. A pet to keep you company, a person to love you, and a job that doesn't make you miserable.

Millenials are like a Greek tragedy honestly lmao. It's like a prank play being slowly written

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footballxwrites · 4 years ago

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Finding out your pregnant and you wait a bit to tell Chilly because hes now on the bench w Chelsea w Lamps leaving so he’s got stuff going on... so you decide to tell one day but you catch him at a bad time and his reaction is awful, he says something like “are you fucking serious, I don’t need this on my plate” and you’re absolutely shattered but cos of lockdown you can’t really go anywhere so you just avoid him at home and he’s feeling absolutely rotten about his reaction once he’s calm because it’s something he wanted now deep down and is actually happy about. Please make it angsty with a cute ending

Unplanned Surprise ♡

𝖨 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄!

The single stick sat on the edge of the bathroom sink as a series of “No” ran through your mind while you paced back and forth in a panic. Your period, which has never been late before, didn’t make an appearance for a couple of weeks so you figured you’d do a pregnancy test, mainly as a joke to “prove” your friends wrong and show them that there was no possible way you could be carrying a baby...well so you thought. The topic of having children hadn’t really crossed your mind and it’s definitely something you and Ben had never spoke about, I mean yous are barely adults yourselves and just finding your feet in the world, with you settling into a nice new job after not long graduating Uni and him transferring to Cheslea to progress in the football career. You were absolutely shitting your pants about telling him, one because he’s been in a mood all week and two because this could go either way, the likely option being him going off it with you or the other not so likely option of him being somewhat happy with the news of a mini Chilwell.

———————————————————

“He fucking went and benched me again didn’t he” Ben shouted, storming through the front door, it slamming hard behind him, and dropping all his gear before collapsing on the sofa with a deep groan of annoyance. “I’m sure you’ll get a game soon” you smiled back, walking into the living room with two cups of tea, “I’ve been telling myself that for weeks and I’m still sat there looking a right dick being a sub for the 90 mins” he continued as you sat and listened to his rant, to be fair you weren’t actually taking in a single word coming from his mouth, instead trying to plan out a way to tell him your surprise that was far from a happy one. “I mean fair enough if I do fuck all in training THEN I’d understand why he doesn’t play me, but I work my arse off day in day out and for what, him to just not even consider putting me on for say the last half an hour, even that would be something” he explained as you gave a hummed reply.

“Are you alright?” Ben asked, gripping your hips and lifting them so you were straddling him, your arms straight away finding him neck and wrapping themselves around them as he tucked the loose piece of hair behind your ear. “Yeah yeah just in my own little word” you reassured him, leaning down and giving him a little peck in the lips, your heart rate increasing the more you thought about telling him, “anyways I never usually get a cuppa and that when I get home, what are you after” he joked as you nervously laughed, knowing at some point the news would have to come out and you couldn’t butter him up forever.

“Fuck it” you muttered as he gave you a small “huh” along with a look of confusion, “I’m pregnant” you blurted out with a sigh, instantly closing your eyes and not wanting to see the reaction from your boyfriend. “You what? No, you can’t be” he said, slowly shuffling to sit up when you whipped out the test from the pocket of your hoodie and handed it to him, “but we are careful, you’re on the pill and we always use a condom” he said, trying to make sense of the situation. “Christmas Eve, when we had way to much to drink and had a bit of fun...” you started, trailing off, “and we didn’t have any protection” Ben said, finishing your sentence as you moved to stand up, still not being able to tell what he was thinking, “but even still you’re on the pill?” He stated, sort of questioning himself, as you gazed down, not wanting to look him in the eyes, “I forgot, I didn’t take it” you admitted in a mumble. “You’re having a laugh right, how the fuck could you forgot to take a pill you’ve been taking for the last TWO years!” He shouted, making you jump a little as he stomped off to the kitchen with a thud, “it was an accident, we were drunk for god’s sake, try remembering to take something when you’re suffering a hangover!” you harshly replied as he let out a sarcastic laugh, “this is all I need right now, a fucking baby” he dramatically sighed as you stared at him in utter disbelief. “What and you think I don’t? My career is basically gone because of this Ben and all you care about is yourself, you selfish dick” you cried, feeling a few tears slide down your cheeks, “oh do you know what if you’re going to be like this then you can do one, talk to me when you’re ready to accept the fact you’re going to be a dad!” were your last words to him that night before you ran up the stairs to bed, shattered and not in the mood for an argument this late.

———————————————————

You somehow managed to keep your distance for the last week and a bit, basically locking yourself away in the bedroom or going for walk, some days even working overtime just to avoid interacting with him and it wasn’t ideal in the slightest but you were determined to not let him get to you, knowing (hoping) he’d eventually come around. Ben was also doing his best to stay away from you, not because he was angry or annoyed anymore, but because he felt awful for the way he talked to you, of course he didn’t blame you and obviously he deep down knew it was a genuine mistake and so regretted the way he acted towards you. Right now all he needed to do was be there for you and your new family member and gain some responsibility for once in his life.

“Can I come in” you heard emerge from the door along with a faint knock and sorry looking Ben peeking his head into the room, “if you want” you muttered, keeping your eyes glued to the tv and not moving from your comfy position of lying on your bed, surrounded by the million pillows and duvets. “I’m so sorry” he whispered, climbing under the sheets next to you and placing a small kiss on your forehead, “fine” you effortlessly said with a sigh, “it’s not your fault, none of it is, I’m as much to blame and I should’ve taken responsibility straight away. I want to be a dad and a good one hopefully, and for you to be the best mum our little baby could ever wish for, which I know you will be” he smiled as you raised your head to meet his gaze, a grin coming across your face, glad to finally hear some words of positivity come from him. “I’m sorry as well, I know it was daft of me to forget the pill and all...but I’m kind of happy this happened, I really want to give our son or daughters best life he/she could wish for” you softly spoke as he put a hand on your belly and traced the very small bump with his fingers before whispering “daddy loves you already” ❤️

@alexajanecollins @kingkepa @trentski26 @footballerimaginess @footballcloud @kierantierncy @jamesmaddiscnx @champagne-coys

#football #football blurb #footballer imagine #ben chilwell #chelsea fc

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arse-crack-thistle · 4 years ago

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quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

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lostinfic · 4 years ago

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Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapter 12/12 *complete*

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he’s a scientist and she works in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. However, John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now) | Words:11556

@doctorroseprompts

Ao3

The click of doors unlocking interrupted their celebration and made everyone run to the railing to watch the entrance below. Kate Stewart entered the laboratory. She wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, which must mean….

“You’re safe,” she declared.

Palpable relief washed over the group.

Rose’s stomach untangled. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing shakily. She had to call her mum.

She turned to John, he was all loud cheers and big grin. He grabbed Rose around the waist in a hug that lifted her off the floor.

When he put her back down, his hands lingered at her waist, and hers on his shoulders.

Kate joined them up in the gallery.

She gave some scientific information they all seemed to understand except Rose. She gathered the substance was not harmful to humans.

Kate handed them an information sheet. “Just in case, be on the lookout for symptoms on this list. Call the number at the bottom if you have any concerns.”

Jack was out the door before she’d even finished talking. Martha, Donna and John left in different directions, to call relatives or pick up their coats and keys.

Rose should have hurried outside too, but she dawdled, feeling oddly nostalgic. She shut down the monitor and covered the leftover food with plastic wrap.

She was aware of John’s spearhead left on the corner of the table, but couldn’t look at it.

She felt bad for disliking it. She appreciated its monetary value, if not its sentimental one. She wished he hadn’t just picked something off his shelf; her gift dealt with in an efficient manner, then dismissed.

Donna carried Rose’s backpack from her office and up the stairs. She had something else in her hand, too.

“I thought you should know, this is what John was going to give you.”

Donna unrolled a poster with a beautiful map of the world in neon colours. She explained how he’d made it using UV light and special proteins.

It was perfect, bright and creative and just so special. Yet it only added to Rose’s frustration.

“I don’t know why he changed his mind. He really likes you, Rose.”

“But not enough to tell me himself.”

“Or so much it scares him.”

“Well, he knows where to find me if he needs help with that too.” She sighed, regretting her snark. She was tired. “I suppose it’s because of what happened to his parents.”

“What about them?”

He hadn’t confided in Donna, but he had in her. Maybe that meant something. And yet, Rose couldn’t help but remember once again how she’d fooled herself into believing Jimmy’s behaviour meant more than it did.

From the gallery, Rose could see across the lab, down into John’s office. He was still there, talking on the phone.

Her heart softened for him, as it always did.

Perhaps, for once, she should be the one going to him. In her determination to not misread any signals, she’d forgotten to send out her own.

---

As she approached the Doctor’s office, she overheard his conversation with the airline.

“Were you able to book another flight?” she asked after he’d hung up.

“Yes. Later tonight.” He hesitated. “The Mendoza team is counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I go out of my way to avoid the street where my dad was killed.”

He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s important work I’m doing every year. I’m helping out labs with less means to preserve their own history.”

“I believe you. I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Drop by the shop as soon as you can. I fully expect you to use those vouchers.”

“I don’t know,” he joked, “maybe if you sweeten the deal with your employee discount.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

“Good. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Rose shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. John rearranged random items on his messy desk.

“I think I need your help,” she stammered.

“Yes, of course! What do you need? What can I do?”

“I’m not quite sure how to get money out of this.” She held out the spearhead.

John sprang to action. He sent her links to trusted auction sites, wrote a description of the item for her and hunted down the original authenticity certificate.

She had to stop him when he got trapped, elbow-deep in a filing cabinet.

“It’s okay. It can wait.”

“But if you get the money now, you might be able to enroll in time for the winter semester.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you listen to my conversation with Martha?”

“Er, well, I wasn’t listening so much as voices accidentally reached my ears.”

“Right.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” he added.

“S’alright. Explains a lot actually.”

“Listen, I know some professors and uni administrators and how to get financial aid.”

“You would help me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if university isn’t what I want? I mean, I haven’t even got my A-levels.”

He shrugged. “You deserve all your dreams to come true, whatever they are. You’re brilliant, Rose.”

No one had ever said that to her. Not this earnestly.

A lump rose in her throat.

Before she’d found something to say, he offered to walk her home.

“I live in Peckham. That’d be quite a walk.”

“Don’t care.”

---

Fresh air welcomed them outside the Museum. It felt like they’d been trapped inside for years. Early dusk painted the sky a soft lavender, and fluffy snowflakes drifted down over them.

After a few steps, John took Rose’s gloved hand. She smiled and tightened her fingers over his. They laughed shyly for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of having their affection reciprocated.

In front of the Museum’s ice rink, John babbled on about bronze-age skates made from animal shins and references to skiing found in writings of the Han dynasty, in China. Joined hands swinging between them, they laughed more than the fun facts warranted. Their hearts felt as light as the snowflakes floating down from the sky. Simply put, they were utterly giddy.

They strolled down a quiet street. Decorations twinkled in windows and relatives greeted each other at the door.

John’s pace slowed down, his gaze turned inward and unfocused.

“I think I might call my former foster family,” he said at last, glancing at Rose for approval.

“Sounds like a great idea. You were close to them?”

He nodded. “The last ones I lived with, they really encouraged me to study. I even had a sister, of sort, Sarah Jane.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a Smith too. We used to pretend we were real siblings… I should’ve kept in touch.”

“Never too late for that.”

They passed by a tube station without stopping. Street lights switched on one after the other, as if only for them. They would have to part ways soon. It was a long ride to cousin Mo’s house, and he had a flight to catch.

At the gate of a quiet garden square, Rose stopped walking. They still held hands, and she fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“You remembered Jack’s dare, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Uh, vaguely. Well, most of it. Where was he keeping that mistletoe?”

Rose waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“John, you know what you were saying about helping make my dreams come true?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer. Her breath quickened. She licked her lips, and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Well, maybe there’s a dream you, uh, you could…”

“What?” His face split into a grin. He clicked his jaw. He knew full well what she was trying to say.

“You could kiss me. Shut up.”

She looked away, but John’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to say something smart-arse again. Instead, Rose grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her. Cold nose tips met pink cheeks. He laughed against her lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies together, as close as their winter coats allowed.

Rose forgot the cold and the passersby, she forgot it was Christmas Eve. Her hand in his hair knocked off his beanie. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat, and she found herself with her back to the garden gate being thoroughly kissed. It was probably a good thing they were wearing so many layers.

When they broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. The clouds on their breath mingled.

“Now I regret booking another flight,” John whispered.

“You’d better not forget me whilst you’re gone, mister.” She poked him in the chest playfully.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met— I doubt I will after that kiss.”

“Let’s give you plenty to think about, then.”

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. An unforgettable kiss.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctor x rose #Christmas fluff #finished but stay tuned for a bonus smutty chapter #lostinfic writes stuff

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lauras-collection · 5 years ago

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Two Lies and a Truth [Part 2]

uni student!tom holland x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: Tom apologises and you don’t know if you should trust him.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: bullying, angst, nothing else I think [there will be smut in future chapters]

A/N: Uhm...Is it apropriate to post the second part so soon after posting the first one? IDK. :D

The tags are probably not working, so a reblog would mean the world to me ❤️

Part 1

It started with a lot of “No, I can’t hang out with you after school.” At first you just thought he was busy. But after a few weeks you realised that he meant he didn’t want to hang out with you after school when he said he couldn’t.

Of course, your feelings were hurt. Tom was your best friend and he didn’t want to spend time with you any more. But it was okay. At least you were telling yourself that. One day at school changed everything though.

Tom was standing by the classroom door with his new friend Drake. They were talking with each other as Drake’s eyes found you and a smirk appeared on his face.

This morning you had told yourself you’d try it one last time. Ask Tom if he wanted to hang out. You had gotten his favourite sweets and your mum had rented the film you had always watched together at least once a year since you were five.

Drake nodded at Tom signalling him that someone was behind him. Tom turned around and you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Hi, Tom.” You wrung your hands together and you didn’t know why you were so anxious. You had never been anxious around Tom.

“Hey.”

“Uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come over after school? I’ve got your favourite sweets and mum rented Lady and the Tramp, I thought maybe you’d wanna watch it with me?” Tom loved dogs, they were probably his favourite animals. He’d always wanted one of his own but his parents wouldn’t let him. He loved watching Lady and the Tramp because there were so many dogs in it.

You heard Drake snicker as Tom’s cheeks turned pink. His wide eyes turned into slits in a matter of seconds.

“No, I don’t wanna watch that childish film with you. Would you please just back off? Honestly, Y/N, get the message. I don’t want to hang out with you.” You felt like you had been slapped across the face. While Drake was laughing in your face you felt tears sting in your eyes. If you didn’t know better you’d say that Tom’s expression softened when he saw you cry. But that was only your mind tricking you. Maybe you’d just been the backup friend until he found someone ‘better’ all along, someone like Drake.

You nodded mechanically. “Okay, I won’t bother you anymore then.”

“I beg you, please.” He raised his hands above his head as if you were a kid that had finally understood what he’d been trying to tell you for a long time.

***

This moment kept replaying in your head throughout the weekend. It was the moment that changed it all. The moment your best friend became your bully. You had never expected your friendship with Tom to end like that. You never expected your friendship to end in the first place. The summer before the incident, you had actually developed deeper feelings for him. Now, the thought made you laugh. How could you have been so stupid?

When the first day of classes rolled around you were happy that you had taken part in the campus tour the week before. At least you knew your way around a little bit. The system behind the room names seemed complicated at first but once someone had explained it to you it was pretty easy to get behind it. You entered the first classroom with fifteen minutes to spare and to say you weren’t proud of yourself would be a lie. The first class on your schedule for the day was a lecture about the concepts and history of film studies and having always been interested in films you were eager to learn more about the subject.

You were just about to get out your laptop when a certain brunet entered the room, almost making you gasp. You had figured he was going to the same university, but you didn’t expect him to be in one of your classes. Tom looked around the room before he spotted you, doing a double-take he let out a breath before he weaved his way through the other students, climbing the stairs until he had reached the row you were sitting in.

“Do you mind?” He asked almost sheepishly as he motioned at the seat next to you. You were dumbfounded but mechanically nodded your head.

“Yeah, I mean, no. Go ahead.” You were confused as to why he wanted to sit next to you. Was this going to be like one of those sick games he used play with you in school? Uni was supposed to be a new start. A new chapter. You didn’t need Tom to bring back your past. You nervously focused on putting all your stuff on the table as he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention once again.

“Look, Y/N. I just wanted to apologise.” His voice was soft. He didn’t want all the other students to hear what he was about to say.

“For what exactly?” You mumbled as you turned to look at him. He was eyeing you with a wary look on his face. The polar opposite of how he used to look at you.

“For everything? I honestly don’t know where to start… Basically for being a complete jerk to you in school. I wish I could blame it on Drake and the others… But I never should’ve treated you like that. I should’ve been better than that and I’m sorry.” You were even more dumbfounded now. Had Tom Holland just apologised to you? For everything that he’s done to you? Were you still asleep? Was this a dream?

“I really appreciate that.” You finally said. “But don’t expect that everything’s fine between us now.” You looked at him for a moment “You had promised me, Tom. ”

“I know.” He agreed with you squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “What I did wasn’t fair. It was stupid and immature and I wish I could turn back time and-” He stopped himself there pressing his lips into a thin line. “I just want you to know that I regret all that stuff. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and you know it’s really not like me.”

“I actually don’t know.” You retorted. “I feel like I never really knew you in the first place. You just turned on me like this.” You snapped your fingers.

“If you want…If you want I could try to make it up to you? I’d do anything.”

Was Tom really wanting to right his wrongs? Make amends?

“And you’re really not tricking me right now?” You questioned, unsure of his intentions. Tom almost winced at your question.

“No. I’m being serious about this.”

“Actions speak louder than words.” Tom could say that he wanted to make things better all he wanted but you were only going to believe it when he was actually trying.

“Yeah…yeah I know. I just…I wanted you to know that I’m not the way I used to be anymore. I’ve got better friends now, real friends. And that made me realise that I hung around douchebags all through high school.” He shrugged his shoulders an uneasy smile on his lips.

“Took you a long time to realise.” You had known it’s got something to do with his new friends the moment Tom started treating you differently. It obviously didn’t only come down to the people he hung out with. Tom had made the decision to behave that way. But if he’d never met them, maybe you’d still be friends.

Tom hummed affirmatively and with that the conversation was over. Not long after, the lecturer entered the room and your first university lecture was under way. You tried your best to concentrate on the lecturer’s words but your eyes kept glancing at the boy beside you. You never imagined seeing him again, let alone talk to him. The last time you had seen him was about three or four years ago. Your parents had visited his parents and you tagged along, you missed the twins and Paddy, Tom’s brothers. You hadn’t expected Tom to be home as well. And you clearly didn’t expect his friends to be there.

You had intended to hang out with Harry and Sam, but Tom and his friends were hanging out in the garden being obnoxiously loud, always reminding you that they were still there. You felt uneasy the whole time. The twins constantly asking you what was wrong. You never told them. You couldn’t tell them that their older brother, who they looked up to, had turned into a complete jerk. Of course, they had wondered what had happened between you and Tom that you didn’t really talk anymore. You used to be inseparable. But they figured you just grew apart.

That evening Tom had made yet another rude comment towards you, making his friends roar with laughter. Nikki, his mother, hadn’t heard what her son had said to you if she had he would’ve gotten a scolding right away. This wasn’t the son she raised. But she was oblivious to the way he had been treating you for years now. That was the day you decided you would not come back to the Holland’s home. You couldn’t.

The sound of students packing up pulled you out of your thoughts. Had you really managed to drown out most of the lecture? Apparently so. You silently cursed Tom for already messing with your head.

“See you around.” He said with a small smile as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. You only managed to nod again and started packing up yourself.

The rest of the day went a lot better than your first lecture. You saw Ryan in a few classes and he managed to keep your mind away from Tom for at least a couple of hours. When you returned to your room, Kelly was laying on her bed with an open pizza carton offering some to you.

“That is exactly what I need right now.” You blew a strand of hair out of your face as you let yourself fall next to her, picking a slice up and taking a big bite.

“Rough first day?” She questioned and took another bite herself. You nodded thoughtfully. You were still confused about your conversation with Tom this morning.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” You finally said after swallowing. You turned to look at her. “I talked to Tom this morning.”

“Tom? As in your old neighbour and school mate?” She questioned with raised eyebrows. She didn’t really know the full impact this had on you. You still hadn’t told her what had happened between the two of you. She still thought he had just been your neighbour. You simply nodded your lips pressed into a thin line. “What did he say?” You contemplated if you should tell her or not. But you needed someone to confide in right now.

“Well, he apologised.”

“Apologised?” She looked at you confused and you let out a breath.

“Some things were said when we were younger. I don’t really want to get into it right now but all you need to know is that he became a jerk when we started secondary school.” You laughed humourlessly. The corners of her mouth turned down. You could tell she knew that there was much more to the story but she nodded letting you know that it was okay and if you ever wanted to tell her the whole story she would be there for you.

“Anyway, now he apologised and wants to make amends? I’m not sure I trust him. He gave me enough reasons not to.” You let your shoulders slump a bit. You were all for giving second chances. And the Tom you knew before you changed schools was one of the sweetest people you had ever met. “I wanted a fresh start. I haven’t seen him in years and now he shows up and messes with my head already.” You groaned.

“You really liked him, didn’t you? Before he became a jerk?”

“Yeah.” You chuckled a bit, feeling tears start to pool in your eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him. Stupid, huh?” Kelly squeezed your shoulder with a sympathetic look on her face.

“No, it’s not stupid…I honestly don’t really know what to tell you. I don’t know what happened between the two of you and what he’s like. Maybe you should try to give him a chance? But be wary about it? And at the first signs of him playing you, you’ll just stop.” She shrugged her shoulders. You hummed and nodded. Maybe that was the best way to go about things. There was still one other person you could talk to though. To get a second opinion.

Kelly took a look at the time and cursed. “Shit. I have a class in fifteen minutes. Will you be okay?” She looked at you again as she got up from her bed. You nodded your head and waved your hand dismissively.

“Of course! I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

“You can eat the rest of the pizza if you want.” Kelly pulled on her jacket and picked up her bag from the ground. “I’m having dinner with Jordan after class.” If you looked closely enough you could see a blush on Kelly’s cheeks.

“Oooh. Have fun! I want all the details later.” You wiggled your eyebrows with a smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. See ya later.” With that, she was out of the door and you chuckled lightly. Ryan’s roommate was taking your roommate out for dinner. Who would have thought? You took another piece of the pizza and pulled your phone from your bag. Scrolling through your contacts you found the only person who would be able to understand you. Who knew what you’ve been through with Tom.

“Beth? Hi.” You said as she picked up.

“Y/N!” There was rustling on her end “Hey, how’s university treating you so far? It was your first day today, right?” She asked making you smile. You were glad you had been able to stay in contact with her even though you had moved out of town four years ago. She had been your best friend in Kingston. You met her on your first day of secondary school and you weren’t sure if you would have been able to cope with Tom’s behaviour without her.

“Yeah! First day’s over and… Beth, I need your advice.” Your voice was a little shaky and the rustling on the other end stopped.

“What’s wrong?” You could immediately hear the worry in her voice.

“Tom’s here. He’s going to the same uni and he’s in one of my classes.” You rush out and the line is silent for a moment.

“Hold up. Tom? Tom Holland?” She asked and you nodded despite the fact she obviously couldn’t see you.

“Yeah.”

“What’s he done? Has he said something? I swear I’m gonna come down-”

“No.” You interrupted her. “No, he actually apologised.”

“He did what now?” She sounded as doubtful as you felt.

“Yeah. I can’t believe it either. He says he wants to make amends.”

“Sorry, Y/N. But I think he’s full of shit.” She spat and you could imagine how her face was pinched together in anger.

“He said he’s got new friends now.” You mumbled. Were you really defending him right now?

“Well, yeah, he stopped hanging out with Drake and the others during sixth form. But he shagged like half the girls in our year. I hate to break it to you but he’s a typical fuck boy and he’s probably just saying that to get you in bed, just because he can. Maybe he gets some kind of kick out of it.”

You were speechless at her words. She had never told you that. It had probably been for the best. What good would that info have done for you? It explained his behaviour in the club though. Before he knew who you were. “I’m sorry.” Beth murmured when you didn’t reply to her.

“No, it’s okay. You’re just being honest.” You sighed. “I just hoped that he’s actually being honest for a change, you know?”

“Who knows, maybe he is.” She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know his motives and maybe I’m wrong with what I said... But he’s gotten really close with Harrison lately. D’you know him? Harrison Osterfield?” You tried to think about it but the name didn’t ring any bells.

“No, never heard of him.”

“He’s a good guy. Really. Maybe he had a better influence on Tom than that douchebag Drake.”

“So what do you reckon I should do?”

Beth thought for a second. “What do you want to do?” She asked then.

“I really want to give him a chance.” You almost whispered. “Is that stupid of me?” You felt the tears burning in your eyes again. How could you want to give him a chance when he had been treating you like shit for years? Maybe it was because you kept thinking about the sweet boy that Tom used to be. You were hoping that that boy was still in there somewhere. That Tom had decided to be that version of him from now on. And maybe Beth was right and that Harrison guy really did change him.

“No, it’s not stupid.” Beth assured you. “Reckless, maybe. But not stupid. Just be careful okay?” You could practically see her raise her eyebrows.

“Yeah, of course. My roommate will look out for me, too.” A small smile was on your lips. You were glad you had a roommate like Kelly. You’d only known each other a week but you felt like you had known her for years.

“Ooh. What’s she like?”

And you told Beth about Kelly and everything else that had happened during the past week and she told you about her first few days at university in Edinburgh. You made plans to visit each other at some point in the future before you ended the call. You really wanted to wait for Kelly to come home so you could question her about her evening but you were exhausted. So instead you got ready for bed.

You couldn’t fall asleep though. You kept thinking about Tom. How was it possible for him to already mess with your head? You had been fine after bumping into him on Friday. Well, except for the flashbacks that constantly replayed in your head. You had pushed the thought that Tom was possibly going to the same uni as you to the back of your mind. But with him sharing (at least) one class with you…you couldn’t avoid him anymore. And he had actually talked to you. Apologised even.

You weren’t sure what the future would bring. But you hoped that everything would turn out alright.

Part 3

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ficbynic · 4 years ago

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T H E M I S S I N G P I E C E - Chapter 1

Story page | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only |

"Isla, look! It's Miss Annabelle!" "Sophie, stay here. You'll see Miss Annabelle tomorrow, we're in a hurry!" "Isla, honey, stop! We have to go!" "Didn't you girls want to bake some cupcakes at home?" Their mothers' warnings and bribing weren't enough for little Isla and her best friend Sophie to stop making their ways to their favourite teacher. Scooting down the school's street pavement, the two seven-year-olds quickly caught up with the woman they elaborately said their goodbyes to just little over an hour ago. Annabelle Davies initially pretended she didn't hear her pupils gasping and talking about her when she walked the pavement along the street near school. Maybe this way, their mums would be able to hold them back. Finishing work early today, she wanted to catch the bus home as quickly as possible, allowing her with some more time to swiftly change clothes and head to the city as planned. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when she found the two girls' mothers had been unable to control their offspring. Strict parents were underrepresented at Wendlesworth High School, an independent, private school for girls aged 3 to 18, in South London. It seemed like the time they had with their children was limited, so whenever they were around, their girls could get away with pretty much anything. "Hi Miss Annabelle!" Sophie and Isla ran up to her, leaving her with no choice but to turn around and acknowledge them. "Hi girls. How was today's after school club?" Annabelle thought about the day of the week. "French today, wasn't it? What did you two learn?" She put her heavy bag on the pavement for a bit and checked the time on her phone inconspicuously. The girls didn't seem to notice. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq," one of them proudly chanted, a smug smile on her face. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Annabelle shook her head in pretend disbelief. "I have no idea what you just told me, Isla," she lied, "That is some great French vocabulary!" "It's not vocabulary! They're numbers!" called Sophie. Meanwhile, the girls' mothers who just collected them from school approached with apologetic looks on their faces. The looks told Annabelle they knew they should've been able to keep their daughters from running up to her. But the looks also held a spark of justification. Annabelle had seen The Look a thousand times by now and knew exactly what it meant. Every teacher at Wendlesworth knew. There was no way any of the parents gave their daughters a bath and put them to bed themselves every night. The fact that this afternoon, the mothers were able to collect their children from school was probably an irregularity. Normally, the girls' nannies would be taking care of that. Though that shouldn't be the reason of lacking healthy, parental authority, Annabelle thought. "I think it's time to say goodbye, girls. Miss Annabelle is on her way home, as well. We don't want to keep her up!" "I will see you two tomorrow, yeah?" Annabelle smiled down to the girls. "Remember what I told you today? There might be some snow when you wake up in the morning!" The girls' eyes lit up and they gasped again. "Is there gonna be lots?" Isla asked. "Mum, maybe we can use my sled tomorrow! Or we can go to Toby's and have a snowball fight!" With the girls' attention now diverted from herself to a much more interesting subject concerning the weather forecast, Annabelle smiled at her pupils' mums, simultaneously expressing regret for bringing up the possibility of snowfall knowing bloody well it would provoke a reaction and the girls' nagging about it could become annoying. The mums didn't seem to mind, gave in to their daughters suggestions, of course they did, and walked off. It hadn't been another minute of making her way down to the bus stop when Annabelle was held up again. "Oh, Miss Davies!" It wasn't a pupil's voice this time, so she couldn't just ignore it. Annabelle closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning around with a contrived smile on her face. It was Mrs. Rodgers. Fiona's mum. Of course it was. She'd already recognised her posh accent. Not that any of the other parents' accents weren't posh, but Mrs. Rodgers' was something else. Annabelle had the pleasure of hearing it quite a number of times the past few weeks, as Fiona Rodgers was a new student in class. "I'm sorry to bother you, I apologise." Mrs. Rodgers walked up to her. "It's just that I didn't manage to see you this morning and wanted to ask you if there's a way we can rearrange the parent-teacher conference we set up last week." "Absolutely. That's no problem at all," Annabelle assured, already making a mental note. "Oh, wonderful. That's lovely, I was already worrying about not being able to make it this term." "Oh, no, don't worry, we can change the date. There's absolutely nothing to worry about, Fiona is doing fine in class. She's really getting adjusted to the other girls the past few days, it's great to see." "I'm pleased." Mrs. Rodgers let out a sigh of relief. "She really does seem to love you, as well, she talks about you all the time." Annabelle's smile finally reached her eyes. "That's lovely to hear." "I will contact you about the rescheduling. Again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience." "Not a problem at all, I'll be available. My phone number is on the school website, you can ring whenever you'd like." Mrs. Rodgers thanked her and Annabelle increased her walking pace to catch the bus she had aimed for. ~~~ "There she is, right on time! What's going on, has the school burnt down?" called Caitlin from the table, as she saw her friend entering. Annabelle rolled her eyes but smiled, arriving at their go-to pub in central London later that evening, making her way towards her friends. "Hiya, Anne, how've you been?" Valerie greeted, "Haven't seen you in ages." "It's been, like, a month, Val," Annabelle commented, kissing her friend's cheek and wrapping her arms around her in a hug. She turned to greet Caitlin next. "Besides, it's always you lot who are busy." She got out of her coat and sat down. "You two alright? What have you been up to?" "You know, same old, same old. Getting back to work. Already failing my new year's resolutions dramatically." "Where's Laila?" "Running a tad late. She just texted," Caitlin informed. "Ah, there she is already, great timing," Valerie pointed towards the entrance of the pub, and the three of them saw their friend nearing. "Look at you! Did you actually beat me this time?" Laila turned to Annabelle, "What's happened? Did the school burn down or something?" She smiled, making the others laugh. "Is this an inside joke I am somehow not aware of?" Annabelle raised her brows. "It's not, don't worry," Caitlin reassured, "Sit down, Lai, we've just ordered wines, how've you been?" "Quite busy to be honest," Laila blinked, taking off her coat and putting it on the back of her chair. "Also, Dave has been a total git the past week. We consciously make an effort to go over our weekly schedules on the weekend, but my lovely husband failed to mention he'd be off to New York City for five days." David and Laila were newlyweds, and despite their little fallout this week, they were still on the newlywed high after marrying last September. David, born and raised Londoner, works as a thriving project developer, accepting assignments all over the country, as well as abroad. Laila grew up as the only daughter of wealthy, Indian doctors, and had followed in her parents' footsteps by becoming a successful biomedical research scientist. Needless to say, money wasn't a worry on either of their minds. With Laila recently turning thirty and talking about cutting down her hours at the lab, Annabelle knew exactly where this was going. In about a year's time, she would probably be sat with her group of friends organising another adorable baby shower, celebrating a perfectly beautiful, soon to be born baby. She could already envision the amazing eyelashes on the kid. "No way! And he didn't tell you at all?" Valerie gasped. "I would go mad if Chris had to leave town unexpectedly." Chris and Valerie. Valerie and Chris. They were two peas in a pot, ever since they started dating in their early twenties. They had been together for over ten years already, four of them as a married couple, and were parents to two beautiful children. Annabelle and Valerie's friendship went back the furthest, having gone to uni together. Both of them were aspiring writers, majoring in English and journalism. It was quite ironic how neither of them ended up in that field. "It was more like a 'By the way, did I mention I'm off to JFK tomorrow evening?' kind of thing. Either way, it was stressful," concluded Laila, "Anyway, moving on. What are you ladies up to, how have you been after the holidays?" "Fine, I've been fine. Getting back into the programme at school. It always takes the girls a bit of time to get back into it after two and a half weeks off, but it's all going alright," Annabelle told her friends, "There's a new girl in my class, though. They moved to the area over Christmas break. It's going well, but some girls still have to get used to having her around, and I have to deal with the worrying mum every other day." Annabelle thought about Mrs. Rodgers and how she had to remind herself the appointment that was scheduled for next Tuesday would be off. She quickly grabbed her iPhone from the table to scratch it from her agenda and make a note. "I don't know how you do it all, babe," Laila complimented, "Just the thought of having any person interrupting my work... I'm so glad I'm pretty much in the lab by myself all day." "You girls wouldn't even believe what the kids get up to these days, it's pretty incredible," Annabelle added. Caitlin shook her head, her eyes slightly widened as to say she was glad she didn't have a clue. One thing Annabelle knew for certain, Caitlin Jones would never have children. "I know, right?" gasped Valerie, "I look at mine and I'm gobsmacked at times, wondering what is going on in their little minds. I can imagine what it must be like to look after twenty of them." "No! No, you can't, Val," Annabelle argued. "Evie is three, Charlie is ten months old, they don't get up to proper mischief. I'm dealing with six and seven year olds all day. Way worse." "Yet you call it your dream job and would go bonkers without any children in your life," Laila smiled. Annabelle couldn't disagree and therefore kept silent. As much as she liked complaining about her kids in school after a long and difficult day, she was more than aware of the fact that she loved her job. She loved establishing bonds with the girls. She loved being able to actually teach them stuff. She loved seeing the kids' development over a year's time. She was truly lucky to have gone into teaching, a career path she hadn't thought of once until the age of twenty-five. "Look at those sparkling, blue eyes!" Caitlin pointed out, "You love it so much, it's endearing to see." She paused for a second. "Astonishing, but endearing." "Speaking of," Annabelle subtly changed the subject, "I have that appointment tomorrow." "Wait. The appointment?" questioned Valerie. "Oh my God, so you went through with it. How are you feeling about it?" Caitlin's eyes were wide. "Alright, to be honest. It's probably just going to be some information about it all, isn't it?" "Yeah, most likely, yeah," Laila imagined, pretending her experience as a biomedical lab scientist was of any use regarding the routine of certain doctor's appointments. "Anyway." Annabelle blinked. "I've managed to get the afternoon off school. Didn't have to mention why. No one besides you three knows, by the way, and I'd like to keep it that way-" "You haven't told your parents?" "God, no." She turned to have a sip of wine, the mere thought of it provoking the need of alcohol. "What about Daniel or Julia?" "Nope." Although no one but her three best friends knew about the pending doctor's appointment, Annabelle did try to talk to her mum and younger sister Julia about what had been on her mind for quite some time when she went home for the holidays. However, the both of them didn't really react the way Annabelle was hoping for, so she promptly decided against going into detail. She didn't feel like telling her friends about her family's stiff reaction, so she just told them her family knew nothing. "Like I said, I'm just starting to read into things, I like to be properly informed, that's all. It's not like I'm off making drastic decisions before telling my family. I'm nowhere near that point, so it wouldn't even be relevant." "Of course. We know you're being smart about this and that you're just gathering information," Valerie said. "Which is the most sensible thing to do at this point," Laila agreed. "Let us know how it goes, though," Caitlin added, "When you've found out something new or when you've decided on going through with... something." "Yeah, of course. Let's meet up for dinner and wines soon. Are you girls free any time next week?" Annabelle asked, already knowing what was about to happen next. Her thoughts were confirmed when everyone grabbed their phone, going over their busy schedules. Sure, Annabelle was quite busy herself, but that was at work. Her evenings would be clear ninety percent of the time, and mostly spent by herself at home. Her friends, however, seemed to have every minute of their days planned out weeks in advance. Visits to the in-laws, appointments at nurseries, date nights with their significant others... Meanwhile none of those kinds of engagements could be found in Annabelle's schedule. As expected, the four friends couldn't find a time to meet up next week. Or the week after. But they agreed on seeing each other again soon, promising they wouldn't let another month go by in the meantime like they unwillingly had previously because of the holidays. The subject of their conversations soon shifted from Caitlin's second date with a rich banker, to what type of handbag Laila would ask David to buy her in New York, to Valerie's confession of wanting to spice up her love life with Chris. Caitlin surely had some tips and tricks for her. Dinner was great. Annabelle appreciated the girls' company, enjoyed the night and felt relaxed on the journey back home as the Northern Line tube brought her back to the south of the river Thames right before midnight. | Next chapter coming soon > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |

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