#sorry about that optimistic promise on Sunday. ''a day or two'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jmojellybae · 2 years ago

Text

Waiting For A Girl Like You - Part 1

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Having to spend spring break in a new city as a stranger wasn’t going to be easy, but fate sometimes comes through when you need it the most. Or: It only took you one week to fall for the weirdest girl in Hawkins.

CW: Language. Robin being hard on herself. Period typical homophobia (I’m sorry, but it’s brief in this chapter and I promise it isn’t the main focus of this story) Reader has divorced parents. Reader has an asshole dad. Reader is from New York City.

A/N: This was requested but I wanted to turn it into a series. This story will be 7 parts. Each part will be equivalent to a day so the story will take place over a week! This first part is more like an introduction, but don’t worry, there will definitely be more Robin in the next parts.

Masterlist

🎶Enjoy my 80’s Robin playlist here🎶

Sunday, March 20th 1986 - 10:35 AM

“God, I can’t do this anymore.”

You cross your arms defiantly as you inspect the plethora of moving boxes that cluttered your semi-empty room. You’ve been unpacking for the last two days straight, but it’s like the damn things were never ending. For every box you emptied, two more seemed to have popped up from thin air and you're certain that you’re no closer to seeing the floor then when you started. Your mom wasn’t fairing much better either. Who knew two women could have so much shit between them?

You moved to Hawkins, Indiana a few days ago leaving your life in New York City behind after your parents had the world’s messiest divorce. Your dad was a grade A asshole and has been your entire life, so it wasn’t the hardest, or the most surprising decision that you chose to stay with your mom, but the move from a big, bustling city to a quaint and, to put it nicely, dull small town was an adjustment you weren’t quite prepared for. Having to leave your friends so far into the school year was the most difficult part of it all. You begged your mom to push the moving date till after spring break so you could at least spend the week with your friends as a final farewell, but it wasn’t feasible. You couldn’t really blame her though, she was miserable in that city, and she wanted to get as far away from your dad as she could as fast as she could, but now you’ll be spending spring break in Hawkins as a total stranger to everyone and everything. What the hell were you supposed to do for a whole week besides unpack boxes?

“Who knows, maybe you’ll grow to love it.” Your mom said to you on the first day you got here.

You remember smiling at her, trying to be optimistic. You didn’t want to break your mom's heart anymore than it already was. You could definitely handle this new life for a couple of months anyway. Hopefully the rest of the school year goes by in a flash and you’ll get into a college that is not anywhere near Indiana.

Ugh. School. It was hard enough making friends back in New York, how the hell were you going to make any here? This is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone since childhood. Did you even want to make friends if you plan on leaving this place as soon as you graduate? You ran your fingers through hair exasperated. You needed some fresh air. You needed to do something that wasn’t unpacking anymore damn boxes.

You rushed down the stairs of your new home, suddenly feeling suffocated by your unfamiliar environment. Your mom was humming away in the kitchen, carefully putting away plates and other various knick knacks. You explained to her that you were going out. “Sight seeing” you said amusingly. You aren’t sure if Hawkins even has a “downtown” worth exploring, hell, you knew next to nothing about this place, so maybe driving around wouldn’t be the worst idea ever. Your mom seemed happy with the thought of you wanting to get to know Hawkins better, so she excitedly tosses you the keys to her car.

“Do me a favor while you’re out and about and try to find a decent pizzeria.” You’re mom says as she ushers you out of the front door.

“Yea right mom, I doubt Hawkins, Indiana is known for their pizza.”

“Hey, you never know!”

You hop into the car and give your mom a sharp finger salute before backing out of the driveway, eager to see what you will discover in this seemingly unsuspecting town.

It was late morning on Sunday, so the roads were rather barren. It was unusual, unsettling even, how truly quiet this place was. There was no traffic, no constant honking or people screaming about nothing to one another. The whole town lacked the usual perpetual buzz of life you were used to hearing your entire life. You’re not going to lie to yourself though, a part of you is kind of enjoying the placid nature of Hawkins.

As expected, there wasn’t much to see. You managed to find the library, police department, your new high school (go Tigers?), and a few restaurants but nothing that immediately jumped out at you and unfortunately there wasn't a pizza place sight. You’d only been driving around for about 20 minutes or so and you’re certain that you just saw everything Hawkins had to offer. You were about to head back home, ready to suffer through more boxes until you spotted a shopping center that was painted orange and purple.

“Oh an arcade!”

You never thought something as mundane as an arcade would get you so excited, but it was probably the most interesting thing you’ve seen so far. You pull into the shabby parking lot that had a few cars scattered about and parked in a hurry. You get out of the car and walk up to the double doors attempting to open them but they were locked. You notice a small sign with times on the window and see that the arcade didn’t open till 3pm. You check your watch: 11:00am

“Of course.” You sigh, shoulders sagging with defeat

All the excitement drains out of you in an instant. You lean in close to the glass and cup your hands around your eyes determined to get a better view inside.

“This place is actually rad…” You mumble to yourself.

“Hey, the arcade isn’t open yet.”

You nearly jump out of your shoes at the voice behind you. You whip around harshly, making yourself dizzy with the motion.

“Whoa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!”

A boy, about your age stands behind you with outstretched hands and an apologetic look. He’s wearing a hideous green colored vest that says ‘Family Video’

“Sneaking up on people like that usually scares them!” You shout, voice shaky with fear and adrenaline. You put your hand over your chest to keep your heart from beating out of it. The nerve of this guy!

“Yea, yea you’re right. Totally my bad.” He eyes you curiously.

“Ok well. Thanks for the info. I’ll just be on my way.” You say, tiptoeing cautiously back to your car.

“Wait! I actually work at Family Video. It’s just down the end of this building.” He points. “We uh. We just opened up for the day.”

You briefly look into the direction of where he’s pointing, still wary of his presence. You shrug your shoulders and turn back waiting for him to continue.

“And?”

“And I feel bad for scaring you. How about you stop in and pick out a movie to rent? Free of charge of course.” He runs a hand through his voluminous hair, making it impossibly fuller, and puts on what you think might be a smoldering look. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“Oh it’s Steve.” He puts his hand on his chest and stands up a little taller. “Steve Harringto—”

“Are you hitting on me, Steve?” You ask bluntly.

“Yes…?” He answers with a grimace, and you snort.

“Sorry, not interested, but I’ll definitely take you up on that free movie.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open for a bit before he shuts it with a resounding click and shakes his head laughing, clearly not offended at the rejection.

“You know what, that’s fair, I did offer.” He puts his hands in his pockets and scuffs the tip of his shoe against the concrete. “And what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” You walk past him smirking.

A bell chimes above the glass door as you enter Family Video. It’s much bigger than your average movie rental store, which doesn’t surprise you to some degree. With not much to do in Hawkins, it’s only fitting that they have an above average place like this to cater to weekends and school breaks much like this week. Steve walks in just after you and shouts into an empty store.

“Yo Rob! Got someone you can help out!”

“Alright Dingus, no need to yell! Geez!” A disembodied voice calls out from somewhere.

“You’re not helping me?” You turn to Steve with a cheeky expression.

“Yea no. I’m taking my bruised ego and going to do inventory out of sight.”

You genuinely laugh, and so does he. Despite an awkward first encounter, he doesn’t seem so bad, at least he’s being a good sport about earlier. Steve leaves you standing in the middle of the store as he disappears behind a door in the back. You look around, taking in all of the movie titles packed on shelves and the fun posters plastered on the walls. You hear mumbling and rustling coming from behind the register. You walk over and lean on the counter only to see a young woman sitting crossed legged on the floor, sorting some empty VHS cases into stacks.

“Hello?” You say gently, careful not to startle the girl, unlike some people.

The girl looks up from her spot and you feel your breath catch in your throat the moment she locks eyes with you. Her eyes are a beautiful deep blue and her face is littered with the most adorable freckles you’ve ever seen. She smiles, crooked and toothy and you would have fallen over if you weren’t leaning your weight on the counter top.

“Oh hi!” Her voice is raspy, and it cracks slightly, making your ears twitch. She stands up and brushes off her vest. She’s wearing a loose fitting suit with the sleeves rolled up, complete with a tie and blazer. Even though her clothes seem to be oversized in every aspect, she still looks incredibly dashing. “Sorry, I kinda got lost in what I was doing. My coworker said you needed some help?”

You look at the lopsided name tag she has pinned on her vest.

Well, hello there Robin.

You slightly shake your head to clear your thoughts and remember you need to stop staring and say actual words like a normal human being.

“Y—yea. Your coworker graciously offered me a free rental on account of him walking up to me like a creep in the parking lot and scaring the hell out of me.”

Robin groans and runs a hand over her face. You immediately take notice of the pretty, silver rings she has on her fingers, particularly the ring with a small chain connected to her bracelet.

“Oh no. I apologize for whatever he did.” She says flatly.

“Nah. It’s fine. I know he didn’t mean to, but I think his attempt at flirting scared me even more.”

Robin laughs with a minor squeak at the end, and you swear you felt your heart do gymnastics against your sternum.

“Leave it to Steve to flirt with every pretty girl that crosses his path.” Robin sighs.

Your eyebrows quirk up when you hear the word ‘pretty’ and Robin seems to have caught on to what she said rather quickly. For a split second, you see a flash of panic in her eyes, but it disappears just as fast as it came. She clears her throat and tugs on the collar of her button up.

“Did uh—did you have a movie in mind?” She asks shakily.

You didn’t really have a whole lot of time dedicated to watching movies as of late, considering your parents divorce and all the time that took up from your life. You don’t even know what’s out or what’s good. You're so out of the loop of what’s popular right now.

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe something funny? My family could definitely use a good laugh.” You try to smile, hoping your voice didn’t come off too sad.

“Y—yea, a good laugh never hurts.” Robin lets out a breath she was holding. “Our comedy section is over here. I’ll show you.”

Robin stumbles out from behind the counter, knocking over an organized stack of VHS’s she was compiling. She makes a frustrated sound and waves her hand dismissively at her now ruined work. You follow behind her, quietly admiring the full ensemble that is her suit.

“I like your suit.” You blurt out. So much for quietly admiring.

“Oh!” She spins on her heels to face you and walks slowly backward, rubbing the back of her neck meekly. “Thanks uh. Sometimes I get weird looks from customers.”

You scoff. “Well, those people obviously have no sense of style. You pull it off very well.”

Robin beams and shyly ducks her head, you definitely don’t miss the light pink blush colored on her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more. She spins around again and almost trips on her untied shoelaces of her converse, but she tries to play it off like a skip. You giggle behind your hand and see the tips of her ears go adorably red.

“So um, here’s the comedy movies, and this shelf has the newer releases”

You examine the numerous titles on display, none really stand out to you immediately. Hell, renting a movie wasn’t even on your agenda today, so you go completely blank trying to choose.

“Have a recommendation?” You ask after a moment.

Robin hums and taps at her lips, pondering. You stare at her pursed mouth and at the way the tendons in her hand shift every time she moves her finger.

God, keep it together and stop being weird.

“I’m not like, the biggest comedy connoisseur, but—”

Robin reaches for a movie on the newer release shelf and holds it up with both hands framing it.

“Have you seen the first Vacation movie?” She asks.

“Oh I actually have! I enjoyed how stupid funny it was.”

“Well—” She hands you the case. “This is the sequel, European Vacation. I think most people like the first one better but that’s usually the case when it comes to sequels, right? The first one is always better, but this one is still good. A lot of hilarious moments. Of course, you don’t have to choose this one, you can choose something else—”

Robin is suddenly talking a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with her hands while doing so. You’re taken off guard with the sudden outpouring of words, but you keep up, hanging on to everything she says. You study her, totally fascinated with her scratchy voice and how animated her face is. You don’t ever want her to stop talking.

“—I’m not sure why I picked this one out, maybe it’s because I saw it with my dad last summer and it’s kinda the only comedy movie I know of right now. Or I—um.”

You smile softly and nod your head, letting her know that you were listening, but she frowns, internally scolding herself and she deflates.

“God, I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to go on like that.” She runs a hand through her tousled honey hair and pulls at the roots in obvious frustration.

“Hey no, don’t apologize.” Your heart cracks at the sight of her looking so visibly upset with herself and you wonder if it happens often. “You sold me, I’ll get this one!“

“Oh, are you sure?” Robin looks unconvinced.

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to see this one anyway, I just haven’t had the time.” You smile trying to assure her.

Robin takes a deep breath through her nose, spinning the ring on her middle finger with her thumb.

“Cool, cool. I’ll get you rung up.”

You follow Robin back to the register. She quickly finds the tape in a drawer and puts it in the case snapping it shut. You open your bag pulling out your wallet, riffling through its contents for some cash. Robin tilts her head, looking at you quizzically.

“Hey, the movie is free, remember?”

“Oh I can pay for it. I know your coworker was just being silly, I really didn’t expect a free movie anyway.”

“Steve is always silly, but uh—what if—what if I insist?”

You freeze, and look up from your wallet. Robin is crimson red, and you feel like an arrow just penetrated your heart.

“Oh, you insist huh?” You tease.

You lean your elbows on the counter, cupping your face with both hands and boldly flutter your eyelashes. You think you might have laid it on a little too thick when Robin goes rigid where she stands, but then she starts choking on nothing and pulls at the collar of her shirt again.

“Yea. Yea I—I do.” She stutters and attempts to smile, voice cracking again. It’s an octave higher than what it has been this whole time and you feel your knees buckle again.

“Well I can’t argue with that.” You giggle as you put your wallet away.

Robin laughs nervously, clearly flustered, but you don’t want to think too much into it. You can’t, right?

“I still need to take down your information, you know, company policy and all.” Robin says with a wave of a hand as she boots up the computer behind the counter. “Name?”

You give her your name and Robin repeats it as she types it into the system. You know she’s just doing her job, but the way your name sounded falling from her lips sends your insides into a frenzy.

Chill out.

“Address?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh…”

You say your address after it took you a few seconds to remember it, and you watch hypnotized as Robin expertly types away on the keyboard, fingers dancing between each key, never missing a beat.

“Okay, you’re all set!” Robin chirps. She hands you the VHS and you grab it, fingers slightly brushing against hers. The contact was so light but it still made your stomach drop with how warm her skin was. Robin yanks her hand back quickly and you swear you hear her mutter an apology.

“Thanks for the help.” You clutch the VHS tight against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. “And thank Steve for me too, you know, for scaring me and offering a free movie as an apology.”

Robin shakes her head and laughs. “No problem. Uh, I’m Robin, by the way.” Robin points to her name tag and curses under her breath when she notices how crooked it is.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” You smile.

And it really is. You feel fortunate that the first couple of people you meet in Hawkins seem to be decent. It’s like an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The weight of the unknown, the weight of your parents' divorce, the weight of moving over 800 miles to a strange, new place. You weren’t entirely sure what kind of people you were going to meet in this small town, but at least you know there could be some cool people out there. Maybe even people you could call friends in the future.

Robin’s expression softens, and she starts spinning her middle finger ring again, mouth opening and closing repeatedly like she’s searching for the right words.

“Hey, so are you new in town? Because I—”

She’s cut off by the bell chiming above the store door. A gaggle of kids, a few years younger than you, burst through the threshold chatting loudly at one another, penetrating the otherwise quiet store. A petite older girl with tight brown curls follows behind them, carrying a couple of coffees in her hands and looking completely miserable. Robin groans, and bonks her forehead a couple of times against the counter top softly.

“Okay so I’ve got a long list of movies we need for this week.”

“I don’t want to spend the entire spring break watching movies, Dustin!”

“I’m with Max on this one dude. We gotta do something actually fun.”

“Fun? Mike, talking to your girlfriend on the phone all day isn’t fun.”

“Shut up man!”

The group rushes up the counter, still talking over themselves, and Robin was having none of it.

“Nope, nope, nope! Go to Steve! He’s in the back room! I’m with a customer!” Robin says assertively, putting her hands out in front of her like a force field. Funny enough it seems to work, and the kids stop dead in their tracks.They quiet for a moment, blinking at one another, before they resume their bickering and storm off toward the back.

“Hey wait you can’t actually go back there—! Ah screw it. Steve’s problem.”

The brunette walks over with a sincere contrite look and slides a coffee on the counter top to Robin. Robin catches the sliding cup without looking, like they’ve rehearsed it a million times before.

“Sorry Robin, got you a coffee.”

“Thank you, Nance.” Robin says, devoid of any emotion.

She gives Robin one last apology before walking away toward the back, attempting to wrangle up the kids. You stare at Robin, the group, and then back to Robin, extremely intrigued.

“What was that?” You ask, giggling.

“Ugh, don’t ask.” Robin replies, gripping her coffee like a lifeline.

You shrug, still curious. “Well alright. What were you going to ask me?”

Robin tilts her head in confusion like a little puppy.

“You said something about me being new in town? Which I am by the way.”

“Oh!” Robin exclaims.

She’s suddenly very interested in a particular chipped edge of the counter, picking at it with her finger nail and trying her hardest to avoid eye contact with you.

“I was asking because, uh—you’re probably unfamiliar with our rental policy!” Robins snaps her fingers. “Yea, yea that was it. It’s um, 3 days.”

Disappointment hits you like a freight train, knocking all the wind out of your lungs. You’re not exactly sure what you wanted Robin to say, she barely knows you, and you barely know her, but the discontent you’re feeling is kind of surreal.

“Ah.” You say, trying very hard to mask the despondency in your voice. “Yea, I’ll be sure to remember.”

Robin doesn’t notice, at least you think, and maybe that’s a good thing. The welcoming bell chimes again as actual customers rush into the store, and you take that as que to leave before you make a fool of yourself.

“Well, I better get going.” You stuff the tape in your bag and take a deep breath. “Thanks again, Robin. I’ll see you around?”

“Y—yea. For sure.” Robin chews on her lip. “Have a good day.”

You give her a small smile and a half hearted wave before turning on your heels. You feel eyes burning a hole on your back as you leave the store, or maybe you’re just imagining it.

You look back over your shoulder, just as Robin seems to look away and take a sip of her coffee.

You drive straight back home.

You greet your mom, who’s still taking things out of boxes. Even though you weren’t gone for that long, you feel guilty for leaving her alone to deal with the moving mess. She’s surprised to see you back already. You insist that she take a break, and she fortunately relents after some convincing. You both sit on the singular couch in your living room, and you tell her about your brief adventure. You mention the places you found, (and places you didn’t find), how you scored a free movie, Steve, and Robin, but you end up talking about Robin more than anything else.

“Do they go to Hawkins High?” Your mom asks, elated that you met some people your age.

“I actually don’t know, maybe?”

You chat with your mom about anything and everything for a few minutes. It’s probably the most talkative you've been since you arrived at Hawkins and your mom is delighted to hear your voice sound happier than it has been for a while. She gives you the “I told you so” mom look, and you playfully swat at her arm, feeling a tad embarrassed, but having your mom laugh and smile with you completely unabashed makes your heart burst with familial love.

You clutch at your bag that's still wrapped around your front, and you feel the familiar shape of a VHS inside.

“Hey mom, feel like taking a longer break?”

You pull out European Vacation and wiggle it in your hand. Your mom sighs, but nods her head and grins ear to ear, knowing you both desperately need this reprieve, and spending quality time with each other wouldn’t hurt either. You’re grateful that one of the first things you and your mom did on move in day was set up the TV and VCR system, because god forbid your mom misses any episodes of General Hospital or All My Children. You hop off the couch and shove the tape inside, pressing the play button excitedly. Your mom pats the cushion next to her and you plop yourself back down, getting comfortable.

It doesn’t take long for your mind to start wandering during the movie. You’re enjoying it, and hearing your mom laugh so joyously and unrestrained when you haven't heard her sound like that in years almost makes you want to shed a tear, but you can’t help but think about Robin. Your stomach flutters every time her freckled face flashes through your mind. You find yourself smiling like an idiot, and it’s not because of the movie. Sure, you’ve only known her for a whopping 30 whole minutes, but it’s been a while since you were hit with a crush this hard so fast and you’re not quite sure how to handle it.

This isn’t New York. This place is completely different. You need to be careful.

You briefly glance at your mom, her attention fully glued to the TV screen and oblivious of your inner turmoil. You sigh softly. New York wasn't exactly the pinnacle of acceptance, but it’s without a doubt better than most places, and compared to a small town like Hawkins, it might as well be a sanctuary. You mentally scrub your mind, not wanting to overthink something as insignificant as a crush. Still, you have this inkling feeling that Robin might be, well, like you, or she could just be an extremely nervous person and it’s better not to deep dive and over analyze some of her reactions. Her nervous laughter, her blushed cheeks, the way she would spin that damn lovely ring on her finger over and over again–

“Honey, did you hear me?” Your mom’s soft voice makes you jump.

“What? S–sorry mom, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted some lunch after the movie is over.”

Oh yea, the movie. You refocus your eyes on the television and remember that you’re suppose to be watching. You only feel slightly bad that you’re not really paying attention, but you’re not going to let your mom know that.

“Yes please.” You smile and readjust your position on the couch to be more attentive.

You are already in so deep, there was no point in trying to snuff it out. A few days into your new life and your heart is already going to get you into trouble. It’s infuriating how badly you want to get to know Robin more. Can you be hung up on someone you just met? It doesn’t seem right, or maybe it’s perfectly right? You wonder if Robin is thinking the same things right now No, no, definitely not. There is one thing you know for sure…

It’s going to be an interesting week.

#robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

197 notes · View notes

userholland · 4 years ago

Text

all for her [2]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: excessive drinking, cursing, mentions of blood, violence, etc.

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 10.8k!

the soundtrack: dancing with your ghost - sasha sloan, chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers, never the 1 - rosie, waiting room - phoebe bridgers, guilty conscience - 070 shake

a/n: im so happy with the response from part 1 & excited that part 2 is now here!!! i think i’ll try to end with the next part but..... who knows. again, thank y’all for the feedback & hope you enjoy!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night Summer was left on Tom’s doorstep was one he would never forget.

He moved into his apartment a month before and it was becoming more than the four, blank walls. It was in a quiet neighborhood, facing out to a street view of family-owned businesses and a bus stop. People passed the street often during the day, a good opportunity for people-watching from his small terrace. But when he closed the windows and locked the door, the feeling of being alone quickly settled in for the first time in his life.

The thought of being independent was reliving now that he had a part-time job. He'd be able to live off his earnings with no guilt and bring whoever he wanted without disturbing his roommates. Even though he had his own place of solitude and privacy, Tom still managed to visit you at campus now that he was closer compared to the hours of driving before. He considered it as a pro to moving, but he really just needed any reason to just have you close.

Most times you’d come over, saying you had homework and studying to do, but with Tom, you never got anything done in one sitting. You made dinners together or ordered something in the middle of the night, watch movies interrupted by your playful comments or you would take a nap between your classes while he did his work.

The two of you were inseparable now throughout college, not stuck with the limited possibilities of what your small hometown gave to you. Everything was going smoothly and Tom was looking forward to what his future looked like, maybe even see you ending up together, but things took a turn when he opened the door and saw Summer, small and swaddled, in the baby carrier at his feet.

It was a Sunday, having your ideal night-in watching your favorite movie, and ordering food for dinner. Your head rested on Tom’s lap, your eyes trying to focus on the TV but they fluttered. Tom had his arm around the back of the couch with his right foot on the coffee table. Sometimes he’d glance down at you, making sure you didn’t fall asleep because you had more studying to do, but he gently shook you every few minutes when he thought he heard your light snores.

“Hmm, I’m awake.” You grumbled.

“Judging from your snoring, I don’t think you are.” He smiled, moving your hair out of your face.

Your face scrunched together, “I don’t snore.”

“You don’t? Not like this?” He jeered, making an obnoxious noise as he leaned his head back.

You pressed your face against his cheek, tilting his head to the side and lightly gripping at his hair. Laughs and giggles echoed the apartment as you fought like kids, Tom’s hand holding your wrist to push it away from his face until the doorbell rang.

“Finally! I’m starving.” You said, thinking the Chinese food was here.

You jumped up from the couch, walking into the kitchen to get plates. Tom chuckled as he headed toward the door, “Are you excited? I couldn’t tell.” He said sarcastically, grabbing the tip money off the kitchen counter.

The baby was asleep, her chubby cheeks were a rosy pink as well as her lips. She looked peaceful bundled in a soft, yellow blanket, but fear instilled within Tom. He wasn’t sure what to do, his mind starting to race and his heart beating faster. He took a few steps into the hall and looked both ways. It was ominous how no one was around, yet there was someone at the door a few seconds ago.

“Hello?” He shouted, his hands against each side of the doorframe.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What’s going on?” You nervously chuckled.

The moment your eyes met the baby at Tom’s feet, your mouth slightly gapped with a trailed gasp.

“This has to be a joke…” Tom trailed.

You kneeled, reaching for the note tucked in by her leg. It was on a torn piece of notebook paper with Tom’s name scribbled on the front in pencil.

“I can’t take care of her. Please understand. Maggie.” You read off, biting your bottom lip.

He continued to stare at Summer, her hair barely grown and her skin so pink. He assumed she had been born a few weeks ago, maybe months. All he could process was that there was a baby on his doorstep and he had no idea what to do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

It took a few minutes to get Maggie calm, but they went in the hall to talk so Summer didn’t wake up. It was none of your business, but you still stood close to the door with your back against the wall as their muffled conversation faded in and out.

“How did you even find me?” Tom asked.

“None of your business.” She snapped, “I don’t know why this is such a big deal.” Maggie chimed, crossing her arms.

Tom scoffed, “Because you’ve never made any effort to see her and suddenly, you want to come and pick her up and take her like she’s a puppy in an ad you found this morning.”

She smiled in spite, “Don’t talk to me like that-”

“How else am I supposed to act? You just told me she’s not mine!”

“Because she’s not! I had to dump her on someone!”

Every word that came out of Maggie’s mouth felt like a repeating stab in the heart. He couldn’t believe anything she said, convinced he hated her at that moment, but he somehow held his head high because he knew he’d fight for Summer no matter what Maggie could tell him.

“You’re not taking her. End of discussion.” Tom uttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

Maggie reached into the back pocket of her denim jeans, pulling out a folded piece of paper, and forcefully handed it to Tom. He stared at it for a few seconds, his hand lightly shaking as he slowly opened it by the ends.

“You still think I’m lying?” She scoffed as they both glared at the paper.

It was Summer’s birth certificate, dated on this day six years ago which made time seem so fast. His dry, tired eyes searched the paper until they locked to the father’s name box, a name he didn’t know and certainly wasn’t his.

“Either I call the police now or you give her… right here, right now,” Maggie growled with no hesitation.

Tom clenched his jaw, “You can’t-”

“I sure as hell can… and we both know you’re not dumb so, just give her to me.” She demanded as if Tom could process all of this while his world was crashing around him.

Tom licked his lips, sealing them to hide the pain that ached in his heart and spread throughout every nerve of his body. A single tear fell down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand. Tom wanted to composed himself to stay strong, but he didn’t know he could crumble so easily from a small number of words.

“Can we do this tomorrow? I just wanna spend one more day with her.” He asked politely, the whites of his eyes now a light pink.

She stood there, not saying anything and her arms were still crossed.

“Please… Maggie.” Tom pleaded, feeling a bit pathetic.

Tom thought back to that conversation, replaying it in his head so much that he didn’t sleep all night. His constant shifting throughout the night didn’t let either of you get much sleep, but it’s not like you were either, laying there and wondering how much you could do.

You were surprised he didn’t cry, shout or lash out in some random outburst of pure anger. It’s what you would’ve done, but you knew that Tom was trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. The denial would eat him alive, only because he believed Maggie was telling the truth and would take Summer no matter how hard he thought of a way to not let her.

“Tom?... Tom!” Your voice seemed miles away.

Tom glanced up to meet your eyes, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as his ears tinted pink. The sounds within the diner became audible to him, not remembering how he got lost in a daze.

“In your own little world again?” You grinned, knowing that he was always one for thinking too much.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” Tom rubbed his hands down his face and straightened his back against the booth.

You sealed your lips, “You can talk to me about-”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He retorted, nodding his head at you.

“Okay…” You trailed.

When his whole world was turned around the night before, you choose to not take his short attitude personally. All you could do was be there for him and you wanted to try your best. Seeing his hand rested on the table, you placed yours on top and reassured him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

He didn’t look at you, but you laid your head on against his shoulder. You caressed your thumb over his skin before grasping his hand and giving it a light squeeze. You brushed your cheek against his black hoodie, smelling the fresh lavender and nuzzling against his arm to remind him that you weren’t planning on leaving or letting him go.

Summer ran down the empty aisle, jumping into the booth and she laughed to herself, “I got this!”

You leaned up from Tom so he could see what she had in her small hand. Her casted arm rested on the table, signatures written all over it from her birthday party.

“It’s for you.” Summer smiled, putting the object in Tom’s hand.

He glanced at it, seeing a small plastic container with a yellow top sealing it. Inside was a cheap ring with the metallic paint partially chipped off and there was a blunt blue jewel in the middle.

“You sure you want to give it to me? It’s so pretty.” Tom managed to smile back at her, observing the ring.

“Yeah, Daddy. I promise.” She grinned, her tongue between her teeth as she flashed another smile that he thought resembled his.

Tom didn't want to believe that someone so full of spite and bitterness could be her mother, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. No matter how much he could hate Maggie for what she’s doing, Tom couldn’t ruin their possible relationship because she was her mother.

After the three of you finished your late breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, you got up to use the restroom, but also gave time for Tom to say his last goodbyes to Summer alone. You rubbed Tom’s shoulder before you slipped out of the booth, keeping your eyes on him until you turned the corner.

Tom grinned at her, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Summer about Maggie other than she was spending the night with her for a while, thinking she would take to it but instead a confused look painted on her round face.

“I thought Y/N was my mommy.” She admitted even though he had denied her multiple times that you were.

He couldn’t hide his smile, “I’ve told you she’s not. She’s my friend. My best friend.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to go. I wanna stay with you and Y/N.” Summer persisted, placing her blue crayon down. She always got a wrinkle between her eyebrows when they furrowed.

“It’ll be a few days,” Tom assured, but he didn’t know.

“But, I don’t wanna.” She whined, bouncing a bit in her seat.

As much as he wanted to, Tom couldn’t say no. He knew this was going to happen before he could know anything else was going behind his back with Maggie. Summer pouted her lips as her mood changed, leaning back with her hair pushed up against the booth.

Tom shifted over, “Come here.” He asked her, patting where you were sitting earlier.

Summer wiggled out of her side of the booth, touching her feet to the ground before quickly lifting herself into the seat and curling up next to Tom. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her hair, feeling an instant warmth even though she was so tiny. It was as if he blinked and was surprised to see her growing so fast. His sweet daughter went from a toddler with bright blue paint on her hands and knees and blossoming into a young girl with ideas that could reach the moon and back.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna have so much fun. I promise.” He sniffled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Pinky promise?” She asked, lifting her casted arm to him.

His lip quivered, but Tom quickly smiled, “Promise… and we always keep our promises, right?”

She nodded, wrapping her tiny pinky around his then squeezing it tight, “Always, daddy.”

Tom remembered when she was only able to wrap her whole hand around that same finger, wondering where the time went. He wanted to go back to when she barely had hair on her head or when he had to follow her around the room when she started to crawl, as she grabbed at stray cords or tried to get under the couch.

“You have all your stuff?” Tom asked her.

“Mhmm, got my colors and favorite books.” Summer nodded, grabbing a piece of bacon off Tom’s place, “Do you think she’ll read them in the voices? Like you and Y/N do?”

Tom sealed his lips, “Maybe if you ask her nicely.” He cracked a smile, moving Summer’s hair out of her face.

As you walked up to the booth, Tom lifted his head and mouthed to you that he was okay. In the bathroom, you had to compose yourself before Maggie showed up. No excuse could make this situation better and all you could do was be patient and be there for Tom. While that was easier to think of, you knew as soon as you made contact with her bright green eyes, all you wanted to do was yell and protest that she doesn’t deserve to feel good about this.

“What did I miss? Anything interesting?” You joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Daddy said I’m gonna have a lot of fun this weekend.” Summer mentioned, smiling at you with her crooked smile.

You gulped, your throat feeling dry, “Yeah, lots of fun.” You forced a grin.

The low music over the speakers filled the silence, not knowing what to say about this, especially in front of Summer. Tom kept his arm wrapped around his shoulder, but he stared out of the window with his hand on his chin, slightly covering his mouth. He didn’t want to cry, he was trying, but the more Tom thought about how there was a chance he couldn’t get Summer back, the more he dug deep to find a way to stop it.

“Hi, Tom.”

He quickly turned his head, seeing Maggie standing in front of the booth. She wore a sleek leather jacket with a maroon shirt underneath and it intimidated Summer. She furrowed her faint eyebrows, but Tom pulled back his arm around her.

“Hey, Maggie.” He didn’t look in her eyes.

She didn’t pay you any mind, choosing to ignore that you were sitting right there, but it’s not like you wanted her to give you any attention.

Summer scooted out of the booth along with Tom, both of them standing across from Maggie. There’s no doubting it was an awkward situation, but nevertheless, Tom continued to stay mature about it. He grabbed Summer’s backpack off the ground, helping her put both her arms through the straps.

“Okay, kid. I’ll see you in a few days.” Tom chuckled with his hands on Summer’s shoulders.

“Promise?” She asked, her big eyes so glossy.

He immediately clenched his jaw, knowing lying to her would hurt like a stab to his heart, but maybe it was for the better right now. There were many ways he could reply that didn’t sound like the lie it was yet he couldn’t come up with anything except, “Promise.” because he knew he would try to keep it as much as he could from where he stood.

Summer wrapped her arms around his legs as tight as she could, “I love you, daddy.” She mumbled.

“I love you too. Always.” He said before kissing the top of her head.

She looked over her shoulder at you sitting in the booth, not forgetting to say goodbye to you too. Summer walked up and got on her knees in the booth, feeling them sink into the cushion. Her small arms wrapped around you and you giggled, giving her a tight squeeze back.

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Summer.” You grinned, giving her a last glance.

She shimmed once more and stood in front of Maggie, still standing there with her arms crossed and one of her eyebrows arched.

“Let’s get going,” Maggie said, her happy tone sounding forced.

Without caring to hold Summer’s hand, Maggie began to walk away, but Summer stood still. Her little heart was racing, not sure what to do even though she was told to go with this strange woman who was supposedly her mom.

Tom glanced at Summer, his lips going to the side as he watched tears well up in her eyes. She sniffled, looking down at her feet and her body felt frozen. It was a new feeling to her, not knowing why she was suddenly so scared. It reminded Tom of her first day of kindergarten. She hid behind his leg while they stood in the hallway and all the kids slowly filled the room. He tried to nudge her to meet a new friend, maybe talk about her hobbies, but she was gripping on his jeans from how scared she was.

Just like he did on her first day of school, Tom kneeled on one knee in front of her. He angled his head to look into her eyes, trying to see her full face. He tilted her chin up and wiped her tears with his thumb, catching them as they ran down more.

“Hey, you remember when we saw the penguins at the zoo?” He grinned.

She nodded, her lip pouted.

“And you remember what the zookeeper said? That penguins always find each other, no matter where they are or how far they are... they’ll always find their way back to the colony… and just like penguins, we always find our way home too.” Tom explained, fixing the end of her jacket.

“Really, daddy?”

“Of course. You’re gonna have to keep your head up for a few days though.” He gulped, a small smirk on his lips.

Summer leaned in, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck again and he coiled her arm around her, squeezing her arm tight. He left a quick kiss on her temple and Tom slowly stood up, trying to pull himself away so it didn’t become harder to leave her.

Maggie stood a few feet away, a bit of disappointment in her eyes. She thought this was going to be the easy part of this process, but it proved harder now that she could visibly see the bond Summer and Tom had created. You watched her lips pin together, not knowing what to do but stand there until they were done talking.

“I love you.” Summer said to Tom again.

“Love you more, kid.” He chuckled, his voice breaking from holding back his tears, “Remember to keep your cast dry. Okay?”

She slipped away from his arms and Tom’s heartfelt heavier the more he said his goodbyes. Summer held her head high and walked up to Maggie, lifting her hand up for her to hold. Maggie hesitantly reached for it, but she glanced at Tom for some kind of permission to. Tom sealed his lips and you slid out of the booth, standing behind him as you watched the two of them walk outside the diner.

“She’ll be back soon.” You whispered, rubbing his tense shoulder.

“Yeah…” He trailed, forcing a grin for you. Tom knew he didn’t have to fake his emotions for you, but right now, he didn’t want to admit he was torn apart inside.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The days didn’t pass by as quickly as Tom hoped. He didn’t realize how fast work was when he had Summer to come home to. It was hard for him to get out of bed, make meals for himself or concentrate on anything he was doing. Luckily, you were there for him or, at least, tried to be. You weren’t sure what would happen to your friendship after your sudden kiss, but you felt like it was inappropriate to bring up with what happened after it. Even though the status of your possible relationship was unknown and your feelings were still strong, you were there for Tom no matter what.

In the morning, you stirred in the sheets and felt the soft fabric of the pillow against your cheek. As you reached your arm over on Tom’s side of the bed, your hand brushed over the cotton linens which made you slowly open your eyes. The duvet was folded over and his pillow was propped up, showing you he had been up for a while before he got up. You let out a long yawn, stretching your arms and legs and feeling the cold air against your skin.

You walked around the bed, grabbing the blanket at the end of it and wrapping it over your shoulders before leaving the bedroom. When you got to the end of the hallway, you saw Tom sitting on the couch with a box in his lap and a few pictures scattered on the cushion. Your lips went to the side as you approached him, trying to be quiet but the sound of the floor creaking made Tom look over his shoulder.

“Morning.” You grinned, standing behind the couch.

You ran your hands over his hair, playing with it before you looked at the pictures. They were of Summer since she was a baby, most of them were birthday pictures or other special events, like when she lost her first tooth or the first time she stood up. Tom cherished the memories, hoping they would make him happy, but all they did was remind him how he felt like a failure.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Tom asked, his voice groggy and deep.

“Fine, and you?” You replied as you trailed your hand from his hair, walking over to the kitchen.

“Good.” He lied, running his thumb against his left eye before grabbing another picture.

It was Summer’s first Halloween and he dressed her up in the homemade lion costume you worked so hard on. He half-smiled thinking about when you drew in a nose with black paint and she scrunched her face, the bristles of the brush tickling before Summer sneezed. Before you could warn her, she wiped her nose with her hand and you and Tom couldn’t help but laugh. With Halloween just around the corner, his smile fell wondering if they would have another one together.

“Here you go. Dark and two sugars.” You softly said, handing him a cup of coffee, just the way he liked it.

“Thank you.” He weakly smiled, taking a short sip.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

Tom placed his cup of coffee on the table and collected the pictures so you could sit beside him.

“Better. I got a little more sleep.” He muttered and set the box of pictures on the floor.

You pulled off the fuzzy blanket on the arm of the couch before you sat down, laying it over your and Tom’s lap. Your crisscrossed your legs, holding your mug in your lap while Tom put his free arm around your shoulders. When you turned your head to Tom, he didn’t have the same natural glow to him.

He was struggling to find some kind of closure, but the lack of communication with Maggie made it hard for him to not overthink. There were no calls and rarely a text. Tom was going crazy, replaying the last moments with Summer in his head.

“Maybe you can skip work today.” You suggested, rubbing the top of his leg.

Tom nodded, “I can’t. I need the tips. Hopefully, I can get Halloween night. I’ll be able to cover child support for the month.” He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes as he tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Your lips went to the side, “Did Maggie say when you’d see Summer?”

He sighed, “No. I haven’t heard anything either.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“Summer’s not mine, Y/N. I don’t get to see her when I want.” Tom retorted as if he was defending her.

“You know that’s not true. It doesn’t matter if she’s your blood, you gave her the best life. Who knows? Maggie probably just forged it. People do it all the time. Why would she just come back when you slept together one time?” You acknowledged, not trusting her for a second.

“I don’t want to get into it.” He replied, taking another sip of coffee.

“Then when are you? Because I know you love that kid more than anything else in the world.” You protested, still facing him.

Tom finally looked your way, meeting your eyes, but he didn’t want to say anything. You didn’t expect a response because you knew that he did love her and he was going to find a way to get her back, no matter how long it took. You tilted your head at him, cracking a smile and tilting his chin up. The warmth that came from your comfort helped him see the brighter side in this, motivating him to see that this wouldn’t last forever.

“You know you’re the best, right?” Tom grinned.

You reached your hand up, intertwining yours with his that was hanging off your shoulder, “I try.” You joked, both of you sharing a light laugh.

You ran your fingers through Tom’s hair, trying to fix it, but he was growing it long as he did in high school. Tom let out a low chuckle, feeling your hand trail to cup his cheek and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek and the faint freckles painted across his soft skin.

While the past few days had been confusing, Tom knew that he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to stir you in his drama. As much as you had been there for the past six years, he realized that Summer was his responsibility, and to bring you into a triangle with him and Maggie didn’t seem fair. It’s not because he wanted to push you away for his selfish reasons, but because he wanted to protect you from whatever was going to happen from this point. You were still best friends and would always be, but it didn’t feel like enough after finally kissing each other and not wanting to let go.

As you pulled your hand back, you glanced down and see some of the pictures in the box. You quickly lean down, placing it on your lap and you picked through the various photos before there was one that brought back memories.

“I can’t believe you have this.” You chuckled, holding the photo close to your face.

Tom turned his head toward it, not knowing he had his eyes glued to you, and he instantly smiled.

“Ah, when I was your knight in shining armor.” He beamed at the picture of you with your broken arm and he stood next to you wearing his favorite baseball jersey.

“You mean when you carried my books for me and helped me put on my backpack, oh yeah, I remember.” You grinned, reminiscing to when the world wasn’t so complicated.

Tom smiled, “Don’t act like you didn’t love it.” He rubbed your shoulder, both of you chuckling at the memory. You handed him the picture, but he slowly was reminded of Summer and her recent accident.

“Shit..” He trailed, “I hope she’s kept her cast dry. I should call.” Tom said, unwrapping his arm from your shoulders and you watched him frantically looking for his phone around the apartment.

“Tom!”

“Huh?” He asked, lifting some papers on his counter.

You lifted his phone, his screen cracked, in your hand and grinned, “Looking for something?”

A relieved smile painted on his face as he walked over, taking the phone and he kissed a light kiss against the top of your head, “What would I do without you?”

It was nice to see him turning back to his old self, but you knew that his happiness was at the risk of being at Maggie’s beck and call. Even though you weren’t Summer’s mom, you wanted to have a say where she ends up too.

You half-smiled, watching him walk down the hall to his bedroom. You turned toward the box of pictures, rummaging through enough to get an idea of how to organize them.

Tom slowly paced across his room as the phone rang, sweat on his palms that he brushed on the back of his jeans. He leaned his head toward the ceiling and tried not to overthink what he could say if he went straight to voicemail.

“Hello?” Maggie retorted, running her fingers through the crown of her hair.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure things were okay.” Tom trailed as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Fine, it’s fine.” She lied, searching through her laundry basket.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, things are fine! I’m just trying to find this stupid sweater.” She grunted, pushing through all the folded clothes.

“What sweater?”

“Some yellow sweater with a heart on that she won’t stop complaining about.”

Summer was sitting on the couch, insisting she wanted to watch her favorite cartoons after breakfast. Maggie didn’t want to deal with the complaining and poking so it was relieving to keep her distracted instead of having to keep Summer entertained while she tried to work from home.

“Oh, I forgot to put it in there. Shit.” Tom cursed, quickly getting up.

He walked to Summer’s room, knowing the exact drawer he remembered placing it in and not surprised that it was there. Tom lifted the sweater, the sleeves unfolding, and seeing how worn it was from the ripped tag. He brought it up to his face, inhaling the lingering smell of watermelon and kiwi from her shampoo.

“Yeah, I got it. It’s here.” He told her, the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll come over and get it.” Maggie huffed.

“No, no! I can go over there. I have to go to work later so I can come by.” Tom offered, glaring at the small sweater in his hand.

“Depends, are you going to bring… Y/N?” She crossed her arms as she leaned against the washing machine, “Because I don’t think she’s been a good influence.”

Tom’s eyebrows arched, “Excuse me?”

“Summer says “Y/N lets me do this or Y/N and I do this” and I don’t think it’s good considering she’s not her mom. She shouldn’t have such big control over her.” Maggie said loud enough for Summer to hear from the couch.

“You weren’t there for her and she was so, I’m sorry if she acts like her mom more than you.” Tom chimed.

Maggie clenched her jaw, “Just drop it off. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be over around three.”

She hung up abruptly and Tom was left upset from not being able to talk to Summer. He hated how he didn’t have any sense of control, to think that this could be the way things are until she goes off to college. Out of anger, Tom threw his phone across the room that made a loud thud against the wall. His blood boiled and tears filled his eyes, bringing the sweater back to his face and trying to let the lingering scent keep him calm.

You stood in the hall across from the door and it was close enough to hear the whole conversation. Every word made your heart drop, not knowing what you could do for him. You hated eavesdropping, but it was getting harder to get the truth from Tom as the days went by. He was falling apart and it was getting too painful to slowly watch.

“Tom?” You softly asked, knocking on the door.

He left the sweater on the bed, wiping his eyes with the end of his t-shirt before grabbing his phone off the floor. To his relief, the already cracked screen didn’t have any new damage. Tom wiped the screen against his pants before opening the door to meet your gaze.

“Sorry about that. I just got frustrated.” He avoided looking in your eyes.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, not needing any assurance. All you did was wrap your arms around him and tell him that it would all be okay, even if you didn’t really know if it would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The half-hour drive to Maggie’s apartment felt like hours to Tom, his head filled with what he was going to say to her or how he was going to handle whatever she told him. He bit on his nails on his left hand while the other gripped the top of the steering wheel tight. Right when he thought of the things he could say, his anxiety made him forget all of the rational thoughts.

As he parked in a parallel spot, Tom got out of the car with the sweater in one hand with a duffle in the other. He carefully crossed the street and entered the complex, walking up the stairs to the fourth level. When he entered through the exit door, he saw the floors were polished and the lighting was bright since there were no windows. It all came off as luxurious and bare, nothing but one or two paintings on the wall.

He knocked a few times under the plastic golden numbers, his eyes searching around until he heard the locks click. The door flew open and Maggie popped her head out, her makeup a few shades darker than last time.

“Hey,” Tom mumbled.

“Hey… you brought it?” She asked quickly, opening the door more.

Tom couldn’t help looking past her, seeing if Summer was in there.

“Yeah. Here.” Tom huffed, handing her the sweater, “And I brought some other stuff she might want.” He gave her the duffle too, weighing down in her hand when he passed it.

“Jesus, what’s in this? She’s not going off to college.”

“A few books, shirts, socks, a few Mad Libs.” He said what was off the top of his head, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

“Well thanks, it should keep her busy.” Maggie quickly grinned, but before she could shut the door, Tom took a step forward.

“Can I see her? Just for a few minutes before I go to work.” Tom asked, even though he didn’t feel the need to.

She sighed, “I really have to go, Tom.”

Before Tom could say another word, Summer shouted from behind Maggie, “Daddy!”

Summer pushed past Maggie, holding out her arms and Tom immediately wrapped his around her. He spun her around with her feet off the ground. He could cry as he held her tighter, kissing the top of her hair and she giggled, “I missed you!”

He put her back on her feet, “I missed you too, kid. How’s the cast?” Tom smiled.

She lifted it up, “Good, I got more names on it.”

“Oh, yeah? Aren’t you miss popular.” Tom chuckled, watching her rotate the cast.

“Are we going home?” Summer quickly asked.

Tom sealed his lips, “Ah, not… yet.”

Summer’s face shifted, “But, I wanna go home.”

“Not yet, baby.” Tom knew it wasn’t in his control right now.

“But, I wanna go home now…” She protested, a dimple between her furrowed eyebrows.

It was the first time he heard true sorrow in her light voice. A kid always had their emotional fits, but Tom taught her that it was okay to talk to her and didn’t have to hold anything back. There was never a moment of questioning her temper tantrums or how she behaved, but he couldn’t wrap his head around this whole incident. He didn’t know how to answer her questions and help her and it was killing him to feel like he was doing nothing yet also trying to do everything he could.

“Summer, I promise you’ll be home soon, okay?” He promised, running his hand over her soft hair.

“Okay.” She pouted.

Quickly turning away, Summer fled back into the apartment and didn’t give Tom another look. He chewed the inside of his cheek and Maggie put her hand on your hip, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, thanks.” She huffed.

“When can I see her again?” Tom asked, embarrassed from how desperate he came off.

She nodded, “I don’t know...”

Tom clenched his jaw, “I raised her, I don’t understand how you can come back and just take her away like you suddenly want to be a great mother. Do you want something else from me other than child support? Huh? What is it, Maggie?” He asked, frustrated and tired of biting his tongue.

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Summer, meeting her blatant glare, so Maggie stepped into the hall to have some privacy. Tom took a few steps away from her, putting his back against the wall while she stood on her side.

“I don’t want to argue with you, Tom. I really don’t-”

“Then why are you doing this?” He cut her off.

She nodded, “I’m uncomfortable with it all.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not Summer’s dad!” Maggie stated, “Okay? Do you know how confusing that is gonna be to her? That the guy who has raised her for six years isn’t even her dad!”

Tom was in disbelief, his throat dry and thinking as if he got the wind out of him.

“I want to take a DNA test.”

Maggie couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re not her dad.”

“I don’t care, I’m taking a test. If I’m the father, she gets to stay with me.”

“Well, she’s not so, good luck with that plan.” She boldly told Tom, watching him walk away from the conversation.

Adrenaline fueled him, leaving the building with the last dignity he felt like he had. The doubt rapidly sunk in from Maggie’s words and for the first time, Tom started to believe that she was right. He may have wasted six years of his life, not knowing how he could have fallen for it all.

After slamming the car door, Tom huffed and wiped his hands down his face. He was annoyed at the stress he held back, thinking he had his emotions under control when everything was falling apart. A million voices spoke throughout his conscience all at once and tried to guide him, too overwhelming to maintain his cool he had kept for so long. Tom clenched his fist and quickly jabbed the steering wheel, pain coursing from his blistered knuckles.

The night shift was a wreck and Tom couldn’t gain his confidence back. He messed up drink orders that infuriated his tipsy customers, dropped a glass from how shaky his hands were, and overall couldn’t clear his mind from his argument earlier with Maggie. Nevertheless, Tom pushed through the sloppy job he did but had to flee to the back to get some air from the inebriated crowd.

With a bottle of beer in one hand, he slipped away when one of his co-workers came in. Tom exited to the back alley, the cold breeze hitting his face and the wind slapping his back when the door closed behind him. As he brought the bottle to his lips, Tom took breaths through his nose as he downed the bitter ale. His eyes burned from the icy carbonation, pulling it away after drinking most of it. He tossed the glass bottle into the dumpster across from him, running his hands through his hair as he paced around the dead end.

“Shit!” He growled, his voice echoing.

A few tears trailed down his cheek and he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand. Tom got himself together, but before he went back inside to end his shift, his phone vibrated in his front pocket. He was relieved to see your name headlining a picture of the two of you.

“Hey, babe.” Tom sniffled.

You were taken back by the pet name, “Babe?”

He smiled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m tired.” He pinched his nose bridge.

“No, no, I wasn’t sure if we were using “babe” or any other grossly cute nicknames.” You jeered, your sweet giggle comforting him.

“It’s just been a weird day.” He pressed his back against the brick wall.

“Things didn’t go well with Maggie?” You sighed, laying down on the couch.

Tom nodded, “Not exactly. But, I’m trying to figure it out.”

Your lips went to the side, not surprised Tom said it because he always liked to tackle everything by himself. There was no need to meddle, but you knew he would come around when he wanted to.

“Hey, I know it’s hard now, but… You’re gonna get her back.” You started, hoping it sounded comforting.

Tom remembered when you said he’d never lose her. He already doubted himself, but he didn’t want to have a lack of uncertainty with you, a person he trusted more than anyone.

“Tom?” You asked, only hearing the noises of passing cars in the background.

“Yeah, babe, I’m here.” Tom shook his head, running his hand down his face.

His voice cracked from the brokenness, causing your heart to flutter. You wanted to fix this all, and you would if you could, but it was equally as frustrating for you to keep your calm. You knew that if you exploded with rage and anger, Tom would follow the same path of destruction and it’s the last thing you both needed to do.

“Okay… are you coming back soon?”

“Yeah, I’m almost off my shift. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Drive safe, please.” You tilted your head, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Always.” He smiled before hanging up.

Tom went back inside to finish his shift, hoping to get a few tips from his charm. He snuck a few shots of Crown and gin in between his orders, looking around to make sure none of his co-workers saw. It was out of his character to drink on the job knowing it could get him fired on the spot, but Tom didn’t care. He wanted the pain inside to numb away with warm liquor until he was sick.

Making the poor decision of driving home, Tom took his time to get back. He rubbed his eyes a few times from the haze fogging his vision, but he slowly pulled into his usual parking spot. At first, he forgot to put on the parking gear, the car rolling forward before he stepped on the brake. A drunk chuckle left his lips as he parked, pulling the keys out and he leaned on the car to maintain his balance.

You fell asleep on the couch waiting for him only to flinch from the door slamming. As you put your weight on your arms, Tom walked in with a sway to his walk.

“Hey, I was starting to worry.” You groaned, stretching as you stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I was… trying to get home and there was… it was fine.” He slurred, a faint smile on his face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking up to him and instantly smelling the alcohol on his breath.

“You drove home drunk?”

“I’m here in one piece, aren’t I?” He breezed past you, kicking his shoes off by the kitchen island then heading to the bedroom.

“You could have gotten killed.” You hissed.

You crossed your arms as you followed him, standing in the door frame. Tom struggled to unbutton his shirt, not able to grip them with his hazy vision.

“I’m here, okay? I’m fine and I just need to sleep.” Tom groaned, the alcohol fueling his irritation.

You didn’t want to pick a fight, not this late and not with everything else going on, so you digressed and decided to leave it till the morning.

As he lazily pulled apart his button-up, he threw it to the side and left him in his basic white tee. You walked around to the shared bathroom and cupped some lukewarm water in your hands to splash on your face. You could hear Tom unbuckle his pants and he threw them to the floor, missing the hamper by a long shot.

You walked to your side of the bed, glancing at him laying down with his bloodshot eyes still open.

“Tom, you can’t do this.”

“I know. I know, but this… I fucking can’t think about anything else.” He admitted.

You sat up on the bed with your head against your pillow, pulling the duvet over your legs. You ran your hand over his messy, brown curls, weaving your fingers through it and pushing it back. His eyes met yours as you continued to play with his hair.

“From how long we’ve been friends, I know you have always put the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You spoke calmly, your tone soft and sweet like honey, “But, you can’t keep doing this to yourself...”

He gulped, not knowing how to let go of this anger he internalized.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” His voice was broken.

“You need to take your time, baby.” You whispered, running your hand through his hair again.

Tom gently held your hand that was resting on your stomach, brought it to his face, and kissed the top of it a few times. You grinned, watching him bring your intertwined hands to his chest. He kept his eye contact with you, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know how I’d stay sane without you.” He revealed, his eyes glossy.

You half-smiled, “You’d function, just not as properly.” You jeered, trying to make him laugh.

“Oh, always with the jokes.” Tom chuckled, tickling up your side and you began to kick around, letting out infectious belly laughs.

“I can’t help it! You’re fun to mess with.” You beamed.

You shifted down to be face to face with him, lying next to him and forgetting about the world for a few minutes. Tom was never big on affection with who we dated, struggling to open himself up with people he felt were temporary. Little did you know that he was wrapped around your finger since the day you fell off the jungle gym.

“I just want you to be happy.” You sighed.

He nodded, “I am happy. I promise.”

You brushed your nose against his, your head angled from the side. Tom’s light buzz lingered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer to him under the warm, cotton sheets. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and running your hand down his abdomen. As you brought his hand toward you, but you furrowed your eyebrows at the light red and purple bruising across his knuckles.

“What’s this from?” You asked, grazing your finger over his skin.

Tom raised his eyebrows, “Uh, I don’t know.” He lied.

You pouted, “You should ice it tomorrow. It looks kind of bad.”

“Yeah…” Tom trailed, biting the inside of his cheek.

You pressed light kisses against the bruises, “Gotta be more careful, babe.”

His brown eyes brightened, a small smile on his lips before he scattered some kisses against your temple, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

When you two went to the clinic to get the DNA test, Tom couldn’t sit still the whole time. From the waiting room until he sat on top of the doctor’s table, he pulled at his fingers or tapped his leg which made you place your hands on him to get him to stop. You gave him words of encouragement, trying to support him through the lengthy process, especially when he saw the needle thread into his dark blue veins.

“I thought it was just gonna be a cheek swab.” He chuckled, discomfort in his chuckle.

“Some places do that, but a blood test is more accurate.” The nurse tried to calm him, her tone soft.

“How accurate?” He hissed at the sudden pinch.

Her lips went to the side, “Above ninety percent.”

His head was turned to the cabinets, fixating on the bold font of one of the flyers. You sat in the black, plastic chair next to the counter, your legs crossed and peering up at Tom. His face scrunched together for a split second, visibly seeing that he still hated needles after all these years.

“What?” He asked.

You nodded, “Nothing. You’re just making a cute face.” You jeered, placing your hand on your cheek with your elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Just reminds me of high school blood drives… Nurse Jenna always poking my vein a thousand times.” He huffed.

“It’s because you squirmed so much, like you are now.” You teased.

He rolled his eyes with a faint smile, looking down at his feet before the nurse pulled the needle away and covered it with a ball of cotton. Tom held it there for a few seconds until she slowly wrapped the light blue bandage the perfect tightness around his arm.

“You should get the results back in four to five days. We’ll let you know right away, Mr. Holland.”

“Thank you so much.” Tom grinned at her.

After the nurse walked out with the blood sample and her file, you stood up, slinging your purse strap on your shoulder. Tom stepped down from the table, pulling down his flannel sleeve to cover the bandage.

“You were so brave. Are you upset she didn’t give you a lollipop?” You joked.

“Don’t worry too much, but I think I’ll live.” He jeered back, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You wrapped your arm around his back, giving him a light hug before you two left to check out then headed back to his apartment. On the ride home, Tom was fairly quiet with the low music from the speakers filling the car. There wasn’t anything you needed to say, but being there for each other was enough comfort. With the windows rolled down halfway, the fresh air weaved through your hair and your fingers were loosely wrapped around the top of the steering wheel.

Tom looked out the window, watching the scenes you passed by, but his head was in a different place. His elbow rested against the armrest of the door, unconsciously biting his nail and shaking his leg. You cautiously put your hand on top of his, the one settled on his leg, intertwining your fingers together without looking at him.

It was still hard getting used to the quietness, not only from you but within Tom’s life.

Tom missed Summer being at the apartment, looking forward to putting up the crayon drawings she worked on at breakfast or insisting they go to the park on weekends. But, since she hadn’t been around, it gave more time for you and Tom to be alone, at least back to how you were six years ago. For the most part, it was nice to dance in the middle of the living room, spinning each other around and sharing takeout at the coffee table while watching a tooth-rotting, romance movie. Just making it more obvious that Summer changed his life, even in the smallest things she did.

The growth of your relationship was important, but most of it was centered around Summer. It didn’t mean you couldn’t both carry a conversation without her, just that most of the things you did together were for her. Endless trips to the park, going to the zoo, taking her to girl scouts, or even running around the house playing hide and seek if it was a rainy day. Her giggles filled the apartment, endless amounts of laughter from the three of you and the memories you created. It was the one thing that motivated Tom to fight for her, just to make more and more memories and have her back in his arms for good.

As the grueling days passed, it was closer to Halloween night and Tom was trying to get as many shifts as he could. Not only was it one of their busiest times, but he also got generous tips. Because the holiday was during a school day, Tom’s apartment held an event for some kids to come by and trick-or-treat early.

It would be Tom’s first holiday without Summer there, but the results would come any time now. It’s all that consumed his mind, on top of him working on her Halloween costume without her. She insisted she wanted to be Wonder Woman and you and Tom never used store-bought costumes, not even when she was a baby and you made a pumpkin costume out of orange felts and stitching.

“Hey! You’re gonna be late for work.” You said, running your hands through Tom’s curls when you passed by him sitting at the table.

Tom snapped out of his trance, shaking his head and rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Today marked the day Tom should have gotten his DNA test back, checking his phone and email since he woke up before dawn.

“Are you staying late? I know Halloween week is probably like the jackpot for you guys.” You grinned, grabbing a mixed bag of candy from on top of the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet.

“Yeah, if you thought the tips from single moms paid up, wait until you get an open tab from a fratboy.” Tom chuckled as he got up, stretching his back and he brushed down his wrinkled, navy button-down.

“Well, I’m sure they’re just flirting with you too. You’re so damn charming with those brown eyes and smile.” You winked at him, shifting the big bowl of sweets with both your hands.

He walked behind you, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “Hmm, well there’s enough of me to go around.” Tom jeered.

Tom checked his phone once again, scrolling through his email and call history, seeing him looking down at it from the corner of your eye.

“Hey, babe, you need to get going.” You reminded him, placing the bowl of candy on the small table next to the door. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, dear.” Tom faintly smiled, nudging his head against yours before you untangled from him.

He shoved his phone in his back pocket, grabbing his denim jacket off the back of the kitchen chair. Tom told you he’d call you on his way home and to have fun, but felt some relief from not being around the kids. He’d barely spoken to Maggie since their argument last week, only getting updates on Summer and her behavior. Tom never knew someone could find the one nerve that could be pinched in any instance, making him incredibly annoyed with whatever he was doing.

The bar was getting packed as Tom walked past the crowd in the front, everyone mingling at the high-rise tables in their various costumes. There was a discount if you wore a costume, usually helping business with more drinks for lower prices, but that meant the night would feel longer with an endless amount of orders piling on top of each other with little patience from a drunken mob.

Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Tom made sure their inventory was stocked as he breezed by his co-workers. He wasn’t close enough to them to tell anyone want he was dealing with, but he figured it was better not to talk about it so it never came up during a shift.

Multicolored lights flashed and beamed through the moving mass of people, but enough of the warm light above the bar helped guide Tom when he was scrambling to attend to whoever he could. It took his mind off his stress, too worried about not getting drinks right when it was easy to with how hectic it was. Drink after drink, he collected a bill and shoved it in the shared tip jar behind them, hoping they made enough so everyone could walk with sore feet, but be satisfied with their hard work.

As the night grew longer, it became rowdier and it meant that it was harder to get people out so new ones could come in. While Tom talked to one of his regulars down at one side, an argument between two strangers began to ensue toward the middle. Tom looked over his shoulder while leaning on the bar, glaring at the two boys whose voices howled over the music.

“I think you should get the fuck out of my face!” One yelled, he had dirty blonde hair and a scratch by his lip.

“Chill out, what the fuck!” The other retorted and his piercing blue eyes were bright enough for Tom to see from where he stood.

“Hey, give me one second.” Tom told the man he was talking to, quickly pacing over toward the angry exchange, “Hey, knock it off.” He said with an assertive, deep tone.

They ignored Tom, continuing to argue before one threw a punch deep into the other’s face. It knocked the man on the floor, making Tom jump over the bar to try to break up the fight. While he defended himself from the guy who punched first, the other drunken man pulled Tom down by the shoulders. In his inebriated fury, he jabbed Tom in the stomach, hurting his rib which made Tom hold on his hands there.

“Hey man, get off me!” Tom gritted his teeth, grabbing the guy’s wrist to push him back down to the floor.

Even though Tom was strong enough to do so, the other nameless man tried to help Tom, but Tom was soon met with a punch to the eye, near the nose bridge. The guy was twice as large as him, able to put his weight on Tom as he threw constant punches to his face and jaw. Tom’s eyes teared up, mixing with the blood from his nose before the guy was pulled off him.

Tom quickly got on his feet, holding on to the bar, but he was met with more arguing between the two strangers he never should have intervened between, to begin with. He rubbed the back of his head, hoping he didn’t have a concussion with the throbbing under his skin. Before Tom could recover from what happened, the guy approached him again, stumbling until Tom threw a punch back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but the stress of everything instantly came out with his rush of adrenaline. More people from the crowd tried to step in, even one of Tom’s co-workers, but it ended with two police officers settling both of them. Tom tasted the blood on his lips, spitting it on the dirty floor as his heads were pulled behind his back.

“Calm down!” The officer pleaded with Tom, taking him outside of the bar.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The sounds of office phones ringing and the news playing lowly were all you could concentrate on. The police station was the last place you thought of being at a time like this, your heart racing since you picked up the phone and told what had happened with Tom. You bounced your leg, the other crossed on top of it and moving your ankle to find anything to make time go faster.

“Y/N L/N.”

You whipped your head, pushing off the chair to get up and speed walk to the front.

“Y-Yes, that’s me.” You said, putting your hands on top of the desk.

“He’s being released now.” The officer spoke with a monotone voice.

You nodded, stepping away from the desk before a short buzz echoed the hall. Tom slowly walked up, his hands behind his back before the officer escorting him released the handcuffs.

“Keep your head up, kid.” The tall officer told him before walking back to the cells.

Tom rubbed his reddened wrists, his face and body in pain from the beating he went through. When you saw his face, you almost couldn’t believe it was him. Red and purple bruises faded on his light skin near his right eye and trailing his sharp jaw. His nose bridge looked displaced and dry blood under his nose, the rest on the collar of his dark shirt. You almost couldn’t stare because of the bright redness surrounding his right eye from popping a vessel.

“Babe…” You choked, gently holding his face.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Tom gulped, his hands settling on your hips, “Let’s just go home.” He croaked.

“Not before we go to the emergency room. Your eye looks awful.” You say, gently moving his head to take a better look at it.

He nodded, “I just wanna go home, please.”

“No, we can’t, you’re hurt--”

“Y/N, I wanna go home.” He snapped.

You clenched your jaw at his stubbornness, “Fine.”

Once you were back to the apartment, the first thing Tom wanted to do was take a shower. He sat on top of the toilet seat, unbuttoning his button-down, but winced at the soreness in his arms when trying to take his not-so-white, t-shirt off. As he continued to try to get his arms higher, Tom couldn’t push himself to do it. He leaned over in frustration, a grunt passing his lips before you walked into the door frame.

“Let me help you.” You softly said, taking a few steps toward him.

Tom didn’t have the energy to fight back so, he leaned back to sitting up straight and lifted his arms as high as he couldn’t which wasn’t much. You grabbed the ends of his t-shirt, peeling it off him and tossing it in the hamper behind you.

You kneeled in front of him, “You got it?”

“Yeah, thanks, baby.” He grunted, holding in his pain.

You nodded, placing your hands on his face and caressing your thumb over his cut cheek. A tear trailed from your waterline, hurt to see him in the state he was. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, giving a light kiss. You ran your hand through the nape of his curls before getting back up and putting your hand on the doorknob.

“Just yell if you need me.”

He just nodded in response, wincing as he stood up and you closed the door.

You let out a deep sigh as you walked back to the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had forgotten to wash from yesterday. It was something to do while Tom was showering, not wanting to think that this wouldn’t have happened if Maggie didn’t come back into his life.

Tom’s phone buzzed on the counter, making you glance at it. The cracked screen lit up but there were a few bloody fingerprints covered on the glass. You picked it up and wet a rag, wiping off any of the dirt and blood from it but you saw an email that was sent to him a few hours ago. You didn’t want to put your nose into his business, but it could have been from the clinic.

Your thumb hesitantly pressed his code in, opening his email account, but you saw it was just a letter from a subscription. Your lips went to the side, feeling bad for snooping until your read an email that he had opened earlier. The timestamp was during his shift, not knowing if he saw it before or after, but your heart fell when you read the document.

“Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father is excluded as the biological father. This result is consistent with the statement that the alleged father (Thomas Holland) is not the biological father of the child.”

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @strawberrytom @itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination @honeyspidey @hollandcrush @sunsetholland @pparkersbitch @namoreno @calltothewild @spideyspeaches @veryholland @osterfieldshollandgirl @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg @sunshinepeterparkr @annathesillyfriend @madmadmilk @antigoneidk @hollandcreep @wierdflowerpower

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female reader #dad!tom #bartender!tom

469 notes · View notes

flyersheartbreaker · 3 years ago

Text

Forever By Your Side| Isaac Ratcliffe

a/n: this is my first imagine that I am officially publishing! I am very excited to share all of my writing content and series with you guys :)

Pair: Isaac Ratcliffe x reader

Summary: Watching your boyfriend Isaac get seriously hurt during one of his home games and watching him battle through the toughest injury a hockey player could battle, so he can continue on with dream playing in the NHL

Warnings: Hockey Injuries, Cussing, Cute Fluff

Word Count: 3,321 words

It was just another ordinary Sunday afternoon watching a game live from the PPL center here in Allentown, Pennsylvania or so I thought. The game was going really well with the Phantoms up 3-1 on the Hershey Bears half way through the second period. There was your beloved star-studded boyfriend number 19 carrying the puck up against the boards through the neutral zone when suddenly bam everything went to complete silence, except for that shear sound that you wish you could so badly get out of you head.

I jumped out of my seat and darted up the stairs from the lower-level seats that I was sitting in with some of the other girlfriends. I can hear the god-awful scream ringing in my ears over and over again that was coming down from ice level. The crowd was silent, so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop and when that happens you know for a fact that it isn’t good. Nothing ever good comes from silence at a time like this and I needed to get down to the locker rooms as quick as possible.

Isaac got hit hard up against the boards and fell awkwardly down to the ground, and his right foot looked like it twisted the wrong way. He's had rough collisions before, but never like this. Isaac is a big dude that you surely didn’t want to ending up colliding with, but this time it looked like Isaac got the wrong end of the play. I never in my life ever heard him yell in absolute pain like the wat he was when the trainers and his teammates were trying to help his 6-foot-6 body off of the ice.

My heart was in my stomach as I was racing down the stairs that would lead me to the home locker rooms. I quickly flashed my team badge to the security guard Frank without saying a word. He must have known it wasn’t good either, as he told me to breathe and be careful myself as I jumped down the last few steps.

If Isaac had a season ending injury, it would kill him. He was just heating up and playing his best hockey yet and working his ass off day in and day out so he could eventually make the Flyers roster within this season or even next season for sure. But if his season is over that means his chances of getting to the NHL level could be too and that would just destroy him completely.

As soon as I rounded the corner to the trainer's office, I saw him being helped on to the examine table. His face was as red as a cherry, and he was in a lot of pain. The trainers quickly started icing the area the best that they could as they slowly untied his skate and too it off of him.

“He is definitely going to need some X-Rays done immediately and possibly an MRI as well depending on what the results of the X-Rays are.” The Phantoms trainer Brian Grogesky said to Neil who was one of the Phantoms physicians.

“Jeff and Robert are on their way down from the press box and getting the emergency X-Ray equipment ready. In the mean time you need to relax the best that you can Isaac.” Neil said to Isaac as Isaac tried his best laying down comfortably on the examine table.

Both Brian and Neil noticed me standing outside of the door of the trainer's room and signaled me to come on in, in hopes that Isaac could ease up and relax a little bit more with me by his side.

“Hello, y/n! Looks like we got a live one here and that big boy landed pretty hard on that ankle of his.” Brian said trying to make light of the situation.

Isaac sat up on his elbow and looked me dead in the eyes. I can see and feel the pan behind them, my heart sank even more for him. I just want him to be okay, I want him to be able to play the rest of this season, he worked way too fucking hard for this to happen to him.

“Hey babes, how is the pain?” I said walking over to Isaac and grabbing his hand while kissing him ever so lightly and carefully.

“It's a bitch babe if I am being honest. I’m trying not to think of the worst, but I can’t help it. This isn’t fair, why me? Why fucking me?” Isaac said in more frustration.

“Isaac, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We don’t know the actual results just yet. But whatever the outcome is you can come back from it stronger than ever. Hockey injuries is sometimes apart of the game as silly and stupid as it sounds, but you’re a fighter and you got this.” Neil said as he placed another bag of ice on Isaac’s ankle.

“They are right babe, your team trainers, physicians and any other doctors have your best interests. Let’s get you into the X-Ray room and then go from there okay big guy.” I said while planting another kiss onto Isaac’s lips.

Jeff brought in some crutches for Isaac to use, so they can take him down the hall to get the X-Rays taking care of. I am hoping that is all that Isaac is going to need and that whatever it is, it's a quick recovery.

After a few short minutes Isaac was crutching back out of the X-Ray room with a look of disappointment on his face.

“Oh no babe...how bad is it?” I asked him while he collects himself.

“It’s not broken...but they are sending me for an MRI early tomorrow morning to see if that shows up with anything and then go from there.” He said in a low tone.

“Well, that is a plus sign that it isn’t broken. You got to be positive about this honey, you need to be optimistic. You can't be negative. Everything is going to work out for the best. Hopefully it's just a minor sprain and you will be back on the ice in no time.” You told Isaac as you wrapped yourself around his side.

All of Isaac’s staff and trainers helped Isaac out of the arena and to his car and safety got him into the passenger seat while, I got into Isaac’s driver's seat.

“Alright, make sure when you get home you put more ice on that ankle for at least 15-20 mins on and then same time off. Do it throughout the night if you can and also, make sure you are using the crutches as much as possible and for the love of God Isaac do not put any pressure on that ankle until after we get the MRI results and see exactly what is going on. We don’t want to make the injury any worse than what it could already be. Try to get some much-needed rest and we will see you in the morning.” Brian said closing the passenger door.

The ride back to Isaac’s apartment complex was extremely quiet. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I just let Isaac sit there and pounder in his thoughts alone without me distracting him. Which probably wasn’t a good idea, because I know my boyfriend, I know for a fact that he is thinking the worst possible scenario that he could think of right now.

I helped Isaac out of the car and into the elevators up to his apartment and got him comfortably settled on the couch with his foot/ankle elevated and two ice packs placed on the injured area.

“Do you want or need anything? You want me to bring out another pair of comfy clothes for you?” You asked Isaac as you placed a pillow behind his head/back and placed a blanket right by him as well.

“No, I’m fine...” He whispered as scrolled on his iPad to rewatch the ending of the game and rewatch highlights and the moment of his injury.

You so badly, wanted to say something along the lines to him like "babe don’t be watching that now, it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing that you could have done to prevented that from happening, so on and on.” But deep down you knew nothing would make him feel better until he knew what the main results were. And as the night went on, you could see the realization hit him that this was going to keep him out for a while. He just looked sad, and drained.

After a couple of hours, another X-Ray, and an MRI later, you and Isaac were sitting there waiting in the trainer's office for the results from both the trainer and team doctors.

Both Brian and Jeff walk in with a folder which I assume held the test results for Isaac’s ankle/foot.

“Well, the good news is the second X-Ray that we took this morning once again showed that there was no brake in both the ankle and the foot.” Brian said.

“And what about the MRI? What did the MRI show?” Isaac asked nervously.

I grabbed Isaac’s hand and interlocked his fingers with mine. I could see the look on both Brian’s, Jeff’s, and even Coach Gordon’s face that this news that they are about to give doesn’t seem to be very promising.

Jeff cleared his throat ever so calmly and spoke. “The MRI came back with a high ankle sprain injury which means we really don’t have a timetable for you to return to at this point of time. This type of injury is extremely difficult to recover from quickly. So, with that being said we need to place you on injury reserve indefinitely until we get more of a clear view on this injury.”

“Out indefinitely...so that could mean that I might be done for the season?” Isaac ever so softly spoke.

“Unfortunately, yes Rat...I am so sorry and with it being late into the season already we don’t want to risk anything further and do anymore damage to the ankle. Brian, Jeff and myself all agreed on shutting you down for the remainder of this year. So, it’s better for you to take this time to heal carefully and properly and then eventually rehab it back to full strength without any other necessary tests or worse case scenario surgeries. Then once you have healed properly, we can train and get you back to 100 percent for next year's rookie and training camp.” Coach Scott Gordon said while looking at both Isaac and myself.

My heart broke ever so much for Isaac, this isn’t fair. I know injuries can be a part of the game sometimes, but why did this have to happen to Isaac and why now?! He has been killing it day in and day out since being drafted in 2017. He deserves his chance at playing at the NHL and now with this setback is he ever going to make it to that level?

The ride to Isaac’s apartment was once again a quiet one and this time I don’t blame him. I mean how is he supposed to react to something like this? What is he supposed to say or do when your head coach, trainer and team doctor shut you completely down for God knows how long.

Isaac settled down on the couch and tossed his crutches to side and unstrapped his high ankle boot so he can comfortably rest his ankle on the pillow in front him.

"Baby, I am so fucking sorry that is happening, it’s not right nor is it fair to you." I said, resting my head on his shoulder while getting cozy next to him.

"What if this is it for me? What if I can't play anymore after this?" He asks, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't say that. You being negative will only make that happen. You are a fighter Rat...you are one tough, strong as hell hockey player who will power through this. I promise you that." I said grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers together, while placing a kiss on his hand.

A tear rolls down his cheek ever so slightly. "All I wanted to do was be that excitement that both the Lehigh and Philly fans need. All I wanted ever so badly was to have my chance to make it to the NHL level and it got taken away from me. Why do bad things happen to good people?" Isaac asked broken and frustrated.

Once he started crying, I had lost it. Nothing I could do, or say would take that pain away from him and it just broke my heart. I went into the kitchen and I just cried as grabbed him more ice packs from the freezer. How am I supposed to look at the man that I love, and not have my heart shatter like glass when I look into those eyes that were once so shiny, and bright, but now shows nothing at all? I have no idea the pain he is going through or the frustrating emotions he is now going through as well and I feel terrible.

I eventually collected myself and walked back out into the living room and ever so easily and softly place the ice packs on the injured area and took my seat back on the couch next to Isaac.

"That's the crappy thing about life.” I breathed as I took a deep breathe myself and continued on. “For some reason, it always attacks the good ones, and praises the hell out of the bad ones." I sob, wiping away not only my own tears but also his tears once again. "We'll get through this. I promise. It'll be hard, and it'll be long, but we're going to pull through this." I tell him as I run my hand through his hair.

He squeezes my other hand tightly. "What if during my time out things don’t get better and I need to get surgery, and it's worse than they thought? That could happen. What if they see that my injury is worse than what they thought and that I am out on the shelf even longer and I completely miss this upcoming season as well? Or worse they tell me that I can't do this anymore?" He asks, gasping for air. "I don't want that to happen and I'm scared to death that it will."

I snuggled beside him even more then I already was, resting my head on his chest, sobbing harder than I was before, because I honestly hate when he thinks that he isn’t good enough or he thinks his career is over because of a minor setback or in this case a possible major setback. "Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? Just for now, it's a bump in the road. No journey to greatness is a smooth one Isaac. Whatever the hell happens next, we'll face it together as a team, because I am not leaving your side and letting you fight this injury alone. I know that you so badly want to break and that you feel like this the end of the road, but you need to keep pushing and listen to the training staff and follow their instructions."

"I love you so much." He tells me, sniffling. "Thank you for helping me with this, baby, I couldn’t do this without you" Isaac said while planting a soft and slow kiss on my lips

"I'll help you through anything. No matter what." I said while smiling and kissing him softly back.

It was battle to get Isaac’s ankle back to a healthy, normal, and stable ankle for a hockey player at his height and weight but we were able to do it. It was a long road and journey until Isaac was back out on the ice skating again and preparing himself for this upcoming training camp season.

Isaac looked and felt good, until one day right before the Flyers condensed training camp something didn’t seem right with him.

Isaac met up with Flyers trainer Jim McCrossin and after a deep examination we found out that Isaac was suffering from a fractured rib and a collapsed lung. We don’t know how exactly this had happen or when it happened. It could have been from when he fell during his ankle injury or from being hit during Rookie Camp, we don’t have the answers right now. And once again, here I am watching my boyfriend being completely destroyed and devastated all over again.

Isaac became instantly depressed, and much worst this time around because he knew there was no chance of making the Flyers squad this season and who knew when he could lace up for the Phantoms season as well. But thank God for Jim McCrossin who helped Isaac get the right and special care that he needed and got him completely healthy so he could play for the rest of this Phantoms season as well.

Isaac was getting game day dressed for a home game here in Allentown. I sat on the bed and watched/admire him as he fixes his tie in the mirror.

"Try not to worry about tonight so much baby, you are going to absolutely kill it out there like always. Once you get out on that ice, I have no doubt in my mind you will play just like how you used to before all of these setbacks. And just remember that no matter how easy, or how hard tonight’s game is going to be I'll be here for you always. But also, please promise me one thing, that if you don’t feel right to let your staff know immediately because I never want to see you get hurt like this again.” I said walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso.

"I promise babe, I know that I need to take my health more seriously and whatever happens, happens. One day I will make my dream a reality and officially play in the NHL, but for the time being I got to focus on the now and my health." He said as he spun around and kissed me.

Watching Isaac warm up made my heart race and beat fast. But it was all worth seeing him back out there skating with the team and his boys. He looked so good and happy out on the ice and that is all that I could ever ask for.

The journey was extremely hard and long this past summer and fall for both Isaac and I, but in the end it definitely made us a stronger unit in our relationship and it has totally made Isaac a stronger hockey player both physically and mentally.

After the game, I bolted down to the locker room this time excitedly to see my boyfriend, not in a complete shear panic like last time and waited for Isaac to come out after he was done with the media.

The door swung open and I immediately saw Isaac and jumped right into arms like a little high school girl. “Babeee, you were beyond amazing tonight! I am so very proud of you, how are you feeling?” I asked nervously but giddy at the same time.

Isaac picked me up and kissed me ever so passionately before answering any of my questions that I just threw at him. “I felt good and still feel good. It was awesome to be back out on that ice again playing with the boys in front of our home crowd, their excitement and energy helped out a lot. But truthfully, I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n. I love you so much and I can’t wait to continue this amazing hockey journey with you right by myside.”

52 notes · View notes

cocochannel00 · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Leave Me Alone

This is so long overdue and I apologize for such a long wait but here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy and as always requests are slow, but always open!

Description: over 6k words, dad!Harry, husband!Harry, Pregnant Y/n, Angst, Fluff.

Masterlist can be found here!

Sometimes when you’re pregnant all you need is a little break...

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca (1)

You felt like a whale, and not one of those cute baby whales you see at the aquarium. No, you felt like a fat Blue Whale that was about to explode. You were six months pregnant and it had not been as glamorous as Beyonce made it seem. So far you had spent the first trimester throwing up at least twice a day and your second trimester going through insane hot flashes that left you contemplating whether going to the grocery store nude would be that bad of an idea. You were hoping your last trimester would be somewhat more bearable but seeing as the two devils inside you were currently competing to see who could break your rib first, you had a feeling it wasn't going to get better.

You weren't usually one to complain out loud or at least about your own personal problems, but this pregnancy, unlike your last two, was starting to get on your last nerve and so was Harry. You admit you were a bit more agitated than normal but Harry was definitely not helping. He had taken his own form of paternity leave a little over three weeks ago after a small scare you had with one of the twins. You thought that having him home so much would be amazing and you could use the extra help with Connor and Rebecca, especially since your baby girl was just learning how to properly walk. So far she had nearly cracked her head against the edge of the shoe rack in your mudroom which had led you to bubble wrap nearly every corner of your house. You were nearly at your wit's end and there seemed to be no end in sight.

Luckily today was Sunday so you let yourself indulge in a few extra hours of sleep while Harry watched the kids. You had kicked him out of bed last night because his body was like a furnace and in between the hot flashes you were having and the fact that you were feeling too insecure to lay naked next to him, you had sent him to the guest room. At 3 a.m. Harry thought nothing of it and since he was sleep deprived as well he probably jumped at the chance to get away from you and get some sleep without all of her moaning and groaning. You and Harry had spent the last week snapping at each other constantly over little things, but you hoped with a couple of more hours of sleep your hormones would cool down a bit even if your body couldn't.

The sun was already shining through the window as you rolled around to check your alarm clock that read 10:30 a.m. Well, at least you had gotten to sleep in a bit before the twins started their kickboxing match. You had just finished the ever-challenging task of sitting up on your bed when you heard two piercing cries come from downstairs. You carefully pushed off the bed and leaned against the nightstand to gain your balance before heading to your closet to get dressed. The only thing you were willing to wear these days were dresses. They were elastic, lightweight, and the only thing that you wouldn't sweat through 30 seconds after putting it on. You decided that you would try and be optimistic about the day so you wore Harry's favorite blue dress with sunflowers. You should have thrown it out after your first pregnancy but it held so many memories that you couldn't get yourself to part with it. You were just walking out of the room when a crying Connor came barreling towards your legs.

"Mama" he cried as he buried his face in your dress. You could barely see him under your belly but you wrapped your arms around his back and stroked his brown curls softly.

"What happened baby?" you asked quietly as he scrunched the end of your dress in his tiny fists and wiped his eyes.

"I play with Becca... and fell... and dada mad...and I cry" he mumbled.

"Oh, baby I'm sure it was an accident. Is Becca okay?" you asked as you grabbed his hand and started carefully walking down the stairs with Connor.

"Uh-huh mama accident" he mumbled with a slight lisp.

"That's okay, baby. I'm sure daddy was just worried and that's why he got mad. Let's go make sure Becca's okay" you replied back as you made it down the last steps of the stairs.

You waddle passed the kitchen door to find Harry sitting on a kitchen stool with your daughter in his arms, an ice pack placed on your baby girl's lip as big crocodile tears fell down her face.

"Connor I think Becca would feel so much better if you drew her one of your special pictures. Do you think you could draw her one?" you asked your baby boy as you rubbed his back.

"Yes, mama I draw. Stickers too" he mumbled as he ran into the adjacent living room.

Once your baby boy was cheerful again you made your way to your daughter and picked her up from your husband's arms.

"And what happened to you, my love? I leave you with your dada for five minutes and you get a boo-boo on your lip" you whispered to her as she tucked her face into her neck.

"Dada turned around for 2 seconds and this is what happened" Harry grumbled as he leaned against the granite countertop.

"Two seconds?" you questioned as you bounced your little girl softly. Harry groaned.

"Ok, it was like 5 minutes. Jeff called me and we were trying to figure out when would be a good time to get into the studio before you give birth and I was distracted and I heard her scream and there was blood and I yelled and Connor started to cry and..."

"Harry I told you already that you can't leave her alone. She's just figuring out how to walk and she bumps into everything. What did she even hit her lip on? Every sharp edge of the furniture is wrapped in bubble wrap." you replied harsher than you wanted too.

"I don't know (y/n). I was talking and she must have bumped her lip on the floor or maybe the bottom leg of the table? It wasn't my fault, it was an accident" He exclaimed defensively as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Harry, it is your fault though. You should have been watching her while you were on the phone. You watch tv while on the phone all the time! The least you could do is watch your own children" you replied back in frustration. You weren't sure if it was your hormones or the fact that you were hungry that was causing the wave of anxiety and anger, but you had a feeling this conversation wasn't going to end well.

"I get it (y/n) I should have been watching her, but maybe if I wasn't getting kicked out of my own bed at 3 am because of your moods. I'll make you some breakfast, maybe it will make you less cranky" he grumbled as he made his way to the toaster.

"I don't want your stupid breakfast and I'm sorry if the two children you helped create make my body feel like it's burning. Maybe we should get you pregnant and see what happens" You repeat harshly as you cradle your baby and went to put her down in her highchair with some cheerios.

"Love, I want to help you... I know this pregnancy has been much harder than the others but I can't help if you kick me out of our bed. You need to tell me what you want me to do" Harry pleaded as he placed some bread in the toaster and turned to face you.

"I want these babies out. I want to not be the size of a whale. I want to sneeze without peeing myself and I want to walk more than five feet without getting heartburn. I want..." you started before the tears began to fall.

"Oh baby, no" Harry mumbled before he ran around the counter to engulf you in a hug. "I know this has been hard and I'm sorry I haven't been as helpful as I should have. I'll make more time for our family and I'll-"

"But I need you to actually do those things, H. You promised me when we got pregnant that you'd be finished with everything by the time the babies got fussy" You mumbled as you put your hands on his chest

"I know, love, and I am, I promise. Once the band and I record a couple more songs in the studio next week I'm all yours," he whispered as you shook your head violently.

"No! You won't be all mine. You'll find something else you'll need to do and then I'll have to watch the kids alone and I can barely walk and you're just going to leave"you all but yelled as you turned your back to Harry.

"(y/n)... what? What are you talking about? Of course, I'm going to be here. I've been home for weeks helping out" he replied back confused.

"Harry every day you've been home you're always locked away in your office or the studio downstairs. You bath the kids, you feed them lunch, great! That's the bare minimum. Who's the one that has to stop their tantrums or bubble wrap the house so they won't get hurt or even try and run around the garden with them while being the size of cow cause it sure as heck isn't you. And then once you're done with the album, you'll be on tour and I'll be alone again." you grumbled angrily.

"(Y/n) you are not the size of a cow and you know I'll give up my music the minute you tell me" he replied.

"I don't want you to give up your music" you stated stubbornly as Harry groaned.

"(Y/n), what is this really about then?" Harry asked tiredly.

"I need a break, Harry... I need to get away from here. The stress and the kids and the babies, I just... I need to go" you cried softly as you wrapped your arms around your bump and watched your baby girl play happily with her food, oblivious to the meltdown happening a few feet away from her.

"Baby, you're scaring me. What do you mean by go away? Do you want to head up north together? We can take the kids up to the cottage or visit my mum" he said quietly trying to hug you, but you stepped away.

"No Harry I need to get away from here... from you" you mumbled just as Connor walked into the room with his drawing.

"Mama look finish," he said with a squeal as you quickly wiped your tears and slowly crouched down to look at his drawing.

"It's beautiful, my love! Why don't we hang it on the fridge so Becca can see it every morning?" You replied back with a small smile as you used all of your strength to stand up again.

Harry saw you wobble slightly and quickly went to help you up from your crouched position. You leaned on his body as he steadied you from falling. You mumbled a quick thanks before going to the fridge with your little boy and helping him place his drawing on the fridge door with some magnets.

"Mommy's very tired baby, why don't you ask daddy and see if he'll make you mac and cheese for lunch while I take your sister up for her nap," you spoke to your son as he nodded with excitement. You carefully went and picked up your daughter from her high chair as Harry grabbed your elbow.

"(Y/n) come on, we're not done talking about all of this. You haven't eaten either. You've got me worried" Harry whispered as he looked at you expectantly.

"I'm not hungry now, thank you. It was a long night and I'm not feeling the best. Go make Connor's lunch, please" You replied as you began to make your way up the stairs.

You finally made it up the stairs with only a bit of heartburn to show for it. You carefully placed your baby girl in her crib and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. You whispered a quick goodbye and started packing a bag. As you threw some dresses and a couple of sweaters into a duffle bag you called Anne who thankfully picked up on the first ring.

"Hello (y/n), how are you? How are the babies" she spoke cheerfully.

"Hi, Anne. I'm doing okay, the twins are definitely fighters. They're going to be a handful" you sniffled softly.

"Oh, sweetheart what's going on?" Anne asked, concern laced in her voice.

"I need to get away for awhile. Harry and the kids and the babies it's just all too much right now. I feel like I'm losing my mind and my hormones are all over the place and it's just so overwhelming and all Harry and I do is fight and I..." you said as you began to hyperventilate.

"(Y/n), I need you to breathe sweetheart, Okay? Stress isn't good for the babies and you already had that scare a couple of weeks back. Breathe love. Pregnancy can very hard and i know these twins haven't made it easy. Do you want me to yell at Harry for you?" she asked softly.

"No, no, it's okay. I just... I need to go somewhere for a couple of days. Just to get myself together before I say something or do something that I..." you started but you couldn't think straight.

"Okay love, that's okay. Everyone needs a little break every once in a while. Why don't you pack some clothes and your pregnancy pillow and come spend a couple of days here in Cheshire with me? I'll call Harry right now to tell him and he can stay and watch the kids for a bit. Why don't you call Gary and ask if he can drive you?" Anne asked.

"Yes, that sounds good" you mumbled as you began looking for your pillow.

"Ok, my love. I'll call Harry and tell him what's going on so he doesn't worry. You just message Gary, ok?"

"Yes, thank you, Anne. See you soon," you replied as Anne said her goodbyes.

After hanging up on Anne you texted Gary to ask if he could pick you up and drive you to Anne's. He agreed and told you he would be there in 15 minutes, giving you enough time to finish packing and say goodbye to your babies.

You were mid-way through packing your toiletries when you heard Harry's footsteps running up the stairs. He walked past your room and towards Connor's before making his way back to you.

"Mom just called me" he spoke softly as he approached you.

"Yes. Gary will be here soon to drive me up to her house" you replied as you placed your toothbrush in your bag and zipped it close.

"I'm glad he's driving you up... (Y/n) what's... what's going on baby. I need to know what's going through your head right now" he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your body tightly.

"My hormones have been all over the place and then I think the scare a couple of weeks ago has made me even more anxious because I don't want anything to happen to our babies and... I can't sleep well at night and I just..." you stammered as you forced yourself to take deep breaths while Harry rubbed circles into your lower back.

"Shhh, love... I know. I think staying with Mum for a couple of days will be good for you, give you some time to relax. I'll make sure the kids are okay and you just message me when you're ready to come back. I'll be just a call away if you need anything" He replied back as he continued to hug you tightly.

"You're not mad at me?" you asked as you looked him in the eye for the first time since your breakdown in the kitchen.

"Of course not, love. I know this pregnancy has been hell for you and I haven't been the best support these past couple of days so I think it will be good for you to have some time to yourself. I'll make sure the kids are ok and if I need I'll call up Gemma. Now, come on, Gary's waiting outside for you. I'll bring your bag and your pillow while you say goodbye to Connor and Becca" he stated as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before grabbing your bags and heading down the stairs.

Carefully you slipped on your Dr.Scholls flip flops and made your way to Connor's room to say goodbye. Connor was playing with his blocks on the floor happily as you quietly called out his name as you went to take a seat on the rocking chair in his room. Connor stared up at you with a smile and ran over to hug you.

"Mama look blocks," he said excitedly as he pointed at the tower he had abandoned.

"Yes, baby it's a beautiful tower. Listen, love, mommy has to tell you something, ok? I want you to listen to mommy, ok? Can you listen to mommy?" you asked your little boy as he shook his head vigorously.

"Mommy's going to go spend a couple of days with Grandma Anne while you and Becca stay with daddy. You guys are going to have so much fun together! You're going to play lots of games together and maybe in a couple of days, you can come to visit." You spoke as the little boy frowned.

"I no go grandmas?" He asked quietly as he frowned.

"No baby, not yet. You have to stay and help daddy with Becca. Can you do that for me?" you explained to Connor as he nodded his head and hugged you tighter.

"Thank you, Connor. You're getting to be such a big boy. Thank you for watching your sister for me. Why don't you come with me so I can say bye to Becca and we can meet daddy downstairs" you mumbled as you stood up while taking your son's hand and slowly made your way to Becca's room.

Becca was peacefully sleeping in her crib when you walked in. You didn't want to wake her up and make Harry's day more difficult than it already was so you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and made your way downstairs. Harry was at the door talking with Gary, most likely giving him instructions on getting me safe to Anne's. Harry saw you from the corner of his eye and quickly came to help you down the last few steps. Once you had made it to the bottom, Harry went to grab a lunchbox from the kitchen and passed it to you.

"Packed you a couple of snacks and a sandwich for the road and some of those weird gummies you've been craving," he stated, a small smile on his face as he crouched down to pick up your two-year-old in his arms.

"Say bye-bye to mamma, Connor. We'll see her in a couple of days." Harry mumbled to the little boy that pouted as he waved his little hand goodbye.

"Bye mama" Connor whispered as you kissed his forehead. You smiled with watery eyes as you said goodbye to your little boy before looking at Harry.

"I love you (y/n)" He told you as you whispered a soft 'I love you" back. You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before walking outside to meet Gary.

You greeted Gary and got into the back seat of the black suburban that would be driving you to Anne's. By the time you rounded the end of your street you were fast asleep.

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

Harry's POV:

I was officially going to lose it. I had been close over the years, but if either one of my kids cries one more time today I was going to have a mental breakdown. It had been four days since (Y/n) had gone to my mum's house and I had been left to watch the kids by myself. If there's anything I've learned from the last couple of days it's that my wife is fucking Wonder woman. I don't know how she managed to keep it together for so long because I was falling apart at the seams already.

It's not like I hadn't taken care of the two of them by myself before. I had numerous times when (Y/n) had worked late shifts at the hospital or had taken a weekend trip with her friends but for some reason, these past couple of days have been far worse than any of the previous ones. Becca had made it her absolute mission to try and run herself into every corner she could. So far she had managed to fall at least four times, all ending with a minimum three-hour cry afterward. Connor tried to help calm down Becca but most of the time he would just get upset because she was and they both end up crying. Yesterday had been the breakpoint for me though.

I had managed to keep Becca and Connor from crying all afternoon which was quite a miracle and just as I was putting them to bed, Becca saw a picture of (Y/n) in the hallway and began to scream for (y/n). This consequently woke Connor up who also cried because he could go to sleep so the three of us ended up in (y/n) and I's bed cuddled in the sheets as both of my kids cried through the night. The only person I knew that could fix this situation besides (Y/n) was Gemma and after practically begging her and promising to not be a dick when she came she said yes to helping me out.

After giving up on trying to get the kids out of their pajamas, I grabbed them both in my arms and walked them downstairs to start on some breakfast. They seemed to have tired themselves out with all of their crying so for the time being, they sat down quietly in their respective chairs and munched on their cheerios. I had just finished up making some Oatmeal when the doorbell rang, signaling that Gemma had arrived.

"Mama" Connor mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"No baby not mama yet, but aunty Gemma came to visit. Should we go open the door?" I asked as he nodded excitedly.

I grabbed Becca out of her high chair and held Connor's hand as we made our way to the door. As soon as I opened it Connor sprinted into Gemma's arms in a fit of giggles. It was nice to hear him laugh after all the crying that had been going on these past couple of days. I gave Gemma a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her in and walking back into the kitchen.

"Looking a little rough there Har. When's the last time you shaved those whiskers on your lip" Gemma laughed as she grabbed Becca from my arms and held her.

"Shut it. I haven't slept in days. Feel like I'm losing my mind" I mumbled as I poured the oatmeal into two bowls.

"You want anything to eat? Can make some toast and scrambled eggs" I asked as Gemma shook her head.

"Mama mama" Becca mumbled as she clawed at Gemma's shirt.

"I might have boobs like mama but mine, unfortunately, can't give you what you want little one" Gemma replied back as I laughed.

"Lot's of missing mama this week from all of us. Have you gotten a chance to check in with mom yet? See how (y/n)'s doing? Didn't want to be annoying so I haven't called since the first day" I stated as I placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Connor and gave the other to Gemma to start feeding Becca.

"Mom said she's been okay. I think the fresh air is helping but her hormones are still all over. Mom said she was feeling a bit insecure about her size the other day but was starting to get better about it." Gemma replied as she fed Becca a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Insecure? She's pregnant. I think she's glowing. Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant lady" I said with a frown think about (Y/n).

"I know but Tracey always says that being the pregnant one is different. It feels like everyone's always watching you and now that she has twins she feels even bigger. One baby is bad enough but two of them with your big head inside at once can't be at all comfortable" Gemma said.

"I know but she's big because she has two of my babies and I think she looks breathtaking."

"Did you tell her that recently?" Gemma asked.

"Well... no ... maybe I- I think so" I mumbled as Gemma glared at me.

"I know I know I should have told her more often but I got busy and then Jeff kept calling and she'd kick me out of bed and-"

"Harry everything you just said is why (Y/n) needed a break. You hadn't been paying attention to her at all or the kids because you were so caught up in work. Now that you've realized that as a parent of two and two on the way you need to step it up because your wife can't do it by herself. You can't overwhelm yourself with work especially with the scare (Y/n) had a couple of weeks back."

"I know I know, but I don't know how to help her if she pushes me away" I replied back in frustration.

"Why don't you start by calling Jeff and canceling all those recording sessions you have planned. I know your job and your music is important but you need to put your family first and the health of your wife and your babies" Gemma stated as she wiped some oatmeal off of Becca's cheek.

"I already did! Once (Y/n) left I canceled all of the sessions and interviews and meetings that I couldn't do from home. Told Jeff that after this week I was officially going on a break until after the twins are born and we're all settled." I replied as I passed Connor a napkin for his sticky hands.

"Well did you tell (Y/n) or mom any of this cause (Y/n) is so stressed you'll miss the birth of the babies cause of your work!" Gemma said sternly as she looked at me.

"Bu-but why would she think I'd miss it! Haven't missed any of the births or her appointments?" I groaned.

"I think she's just scared. You were out of town when the bleeding started and she was an absolute wreck when I took her to the hospital. Doctors said they had to give her a sedative because she nearly had a panic attack in the ER and her blood pressure skyrocketed. Mom said she was panicking on the phone when she called her" Gemma replied as she bounced Becca up and down on her lap.

"Careful, she'll vomit. God, I wish I could just see (Y/n) but I don't want to make things worse"

"I think both of you suffered enough with this time apart so why don't you call mom and tell her you and these little rascals are coming up today. Once you called me I texted mom to let her know you'd probably make an appearance today" Gemma replied as she tickled Becca's tummy.

"You're right, I should. I'm going to call mom and let her know. Can you pack Becca a bag and maybe change her diaper?" I asked as I made my way to go find my phone upstairs.

"Bag, yes. Diaper, hell no" Gemma mumbled as I laughed.

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

(Y/N) POV:

Today was a good day. You had managed to make it the entire morning without crying which is more than you can say for the other three days you had spent at Anne's house. It looked like you had finally managed to get your hormones under control and were even excited to spend the day in town with Anne. You had promised her that after moping around her house since you got there that you would spend today with her in town as long as you could stop to get one of those chocolate croissants Harry always brought from the bakery.

You waddled down the stairs in the navy blue Gucci dress Harry bought you for Christmas that cinched just above your belly, making you look all the more pregnant. You didn't necessarily like it the first couple of times you tried it on but every time you wore it Harry's face would light up with a smile and that was enough for you to wear it a bit more often.

"Good morning (Y/n), how did you sleep last night? Did the ice pack behind your neck help with the hot flashes?" Anne asked as she sipped her cup of coffee at the kitchen table.

"It was a miracle worker, first time in months that I haven't woken up in a puddle of my own sweat" you replied back as you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and sat down next to her.

"I'm glad. I know you're not a tea drinker but can I get you some decaf or maybe some hot chocolate? I think I have some from the last time you guys were over" Anne replied as she got up to get her a mug.

"Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. I can make it though don't worry" you said as Anne waved you away and began taking out the chocolate mix.

"So how are you feeling today? Better with the hormones and such?" Anne asked cautiously as she stirred the hot chocolate and placed it in front of you.

"I've gotten them under control for the most time, I usually only feel like crying when I to miss Harry and my other babies. Wish they could have come up for a bit but it's been nice to spend some time with you and away from the chaos."

"It's been very nice having you here and I can't wait to meet two more of my grandbabies. Speaking of Harry, he called me this morning?" Anne mumbled into her coffee.

"Is he ok? Are my babies ok? Is someone hurt?" You questioned with a jump.

"Everyone's fine don't worry. Just wanted to see how you were doing." Anne replied. You relaxed back into your seat knowing that everyone was ok at home.

"Thank god. I was worried about leaving them with Harry. He's a great dad, but they can be a handful especially if they tag team you with the crying. It's enough to pull your hair out" you mumble as Anne laughs.

"I can only imagine. Gemma was pretty calm as a child, but Harry was my little attention seeker, couldn't put him down without the tears starting"

"Becca's the same way. If you leave her alone more than a quick bathroom break she'll start screaming her head off. I miss them..." you stated as you grabbed a biscuit and shoved it in your mouth.

"Well a little birdy might have mentioned that someone special could be coming up later today" Anne mumbled trying to hide her grin behind her mug.

"What? What do you mean? Is Harry coming up here?!" You asked excitedly as you nearly drop your coffee mug on the floor.

Anne nodded as you crushed her into bear hug and placed a kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you thank you" you whispered as you held her tight.

"It was all Gemma, dear. And besides, I think you both could really use it. From what I hear my grandkids aren't making it the easiest time. They should be here within the next half hour so why don't you go get dressed and I'll get the kids room all set up for them?" Anne replied as she carefully helped you stand and walked you up the stairs.

Once upstairs, you could help but let out a small squeal at the idea of finally seeing Harry and your kids again. It had only been a couple of days and even though you always love spending some girl time alone with Anne, it was time to see all of your babies (Harry included). You decided to take a quick shower before throwing on a coral pink wrap dress that cut off just above the knee. Just as you were putting on your sneakers (probably the most comfortable shoes you own tbh) Anne knocked on the door to tell you that Harry's car had just pulled into the drive way. You smiled and quickly finished tying your shoes before carefully, but quickly, made your way down the stairs and to the front door.

The sight in front of you was almost too much for you to handle. Connor stood at the side of the car staring at the birds playing the bird feeder. His foot pajamas were covered in what you could only assume was banana stains and the shoe laces on his Gucci sneakers were untied. Your husband stood with his back to you as he wrestled with the fussy one year old in the car street. His pajama pants were riding low on his hips and the white cotton t shirt he sometimes wears to bed had a large stain on his right shoulder, most likely from burping Becca. Just as you were about to approach your little family when suddenly you son came running towards you.

"Mama mama... I here" Connor called out as he hurled himself towards you.

"I see that baby! How are you? Were you good for dada?" You asked him as you carefully lifted him up in your arms and nodded his head.

"I good mama. I good" he stated enthusiastically as you placed a kiss to his cheek.

"How is my favorite grandbaby boy doing? Come with me so your mommy can go help daddy with Becca" Anne stated as Connor all but launched himself at his grandma with a squeal.

You gave Anne a smile before walking over to Harry. You tapped on his shoulder and watched as his shoulders relaxed and he carefully turned around to see you. The weeks could be seen right on his face. His hair was shooting out every which way, a curl follow over his eyes every now and then. There was also a slight hint of stubble across his chin which you knew only appeared after he had gone a couple of days without shaving. The stain on the shoulder of his pajama shirt wasn't the only one on his shirt as you saw a couple splatters of green which you could only assume was peas. He was mess all over, but he was your mess. He gave you the soft smile that you fell in love with all those years ago and you practically tumbled into his arms.

"Hello my love" he mumbled into your hair as he brushed a strand of it behind your ear while rubbing his other hand up and down your back.

"Hi H" you whispered as tears began to prick your eyes.

"I missed you so much, the kids and I were a mess without you but I hope you got to relax a bit" Harry whispered into your ear.

"It was nice, but I missed you all a lot. I hope they weren't to much trouble" you mumbled into his neck.

"Let's just say it's a miracle we didn't get a noise complaint from all of the crying but we survived... barely." Harry replied as you laughed.

The two of you stood there for a bit before you began to hear your daughter's soft whines coming from the open car door. You carefully detached yourself from Harry and made your way to your daughter who sat in her car seat, eyes wide looking at the two of you.

"Hello baby. How is my precious girl doing? Did you make daddy's life difficult?" you mumbled in a baby voice as you picked her up from her car seat and cradled her into your neck.

She let out a soft whine before snuggling into your chest and closing her eyes again.

"All she needed was her mama" Harry replied as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed a kiss to your temple.

"All I needed was you" you whispered back as you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you (Y/n)"

"I love you too, H"

483 notes · View notes

amaranthinecanicular · 4 years ago

Text

and the name for your order is

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

[My belated @fyeahbnha secret santa gift for @pointy-hat-witch! Please enjoy, and happy holidays!!!]

[Alternatively read on ao3.]

OCTOBER

Fat Gum’s Café has a new customer.

Well. Not new, exactly. He's been showing up for the last two weeks or so but only on days Kirishima wasn’t working. The news shared by his coworkers more closely resemble war stories than work gossip, ranging exclusively from horrible to terrible.

“He’s the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life,” says Amajiki.

“He’s like a sentient piece of crap rolled up in a garbage can and set on fire,” says Kaminari.

“He makes Give me a mocha double espresso sound like an order of execution,” says Amajiki.

“He’s rude and violent and he has no honor,” says Tetsutetsu.

“If he’s not actually a demon sent from the depths of hell to torture me specifically I would be very surprised,” says Amajiki. Most of the stories are from Amajiki.

Kirishima is dying to meet him, in part to defend his friends’ honor and in part to put a face to the legend. Luckily, the start of the new quarter means new classes at new times, and that means new work hours. What was originally a Tuesday-Thursday-Friday-Sunday schedule shifts to a Monday-Wednesday-Saturday schedule. Kirishima feels bad about that. He likes the coffee shop, likes his coworkers, likes his boss. If he could ace his tests and help out at Fat Gum’s every day he would, but he can't. His grades are dragging.

On the bright side, he meets their local celebrity, like, immediately.

It’s his first Saturday on the job. He knows it’s about to go down when he finds Amajiki attempting to assimilate himself into the storage closet.

“He's back,” says Amajiki, doing an excellent impression of coffee grounds quaking in fear. “If I have to deal with him again I'll die, I'll just die. Tell Mirio and Hadou I said goodbye. I'm sorry, Kirishima-kun, I can't do it.”

Poor guy. Amajiki is convinced this dude is terrorizing him deliberately, which Kirishima sincerely hopes isn't true. Anyone who would go out of their way to frighten serious, hardworking, anxious Amajiki must be a monster.

As if to punctuate this point, someone out at the front begins to brutalize the counter bell. To be fair, they really shouldn't leave it unmanned.

“Don't sweat it, senpai,” Kirishima says. He doesn't give Amajiki the manly clap to the shoulder that he wants to—Amajiki isn't so good with physical contact from anyone other than Togata or Hadou. “I'll handle the problem customer.”

Amajiki peeks at Kirishima through coffee filters and the dark wedge of his fringe. “You—you mean it?”

“Sure do. I like a challenge.”

He flashes his brightest smile. Amajiki squints a little at the force of it.

Kirishima is honestly surprised that the poor bell isn’t dented by the time he comes to its rescue.

“About fucking time,” says the problem customer. He's got riotous blond hair and a scowl on his face like it's been carved there. There's a grenade logo sprayed on his baggy black tee, which makes sense, because one look at this guy brings to mind the word explosive.

“How may I help you, sir?” says Kirishima, with deliberate pep. Impossibly, impressively, the scowl cuts deeper. Like an attack—like he's never not on the offensive. That's fine. Kirishima’s smile will be his armor.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

Kirishima spits the cap out of his mouth. “I want to know. For your order, man.”

The problem customer narrows his eyes as though to peer through Kirishima’s question to the ulterior motives behind it, which is insane, since there are no ulterior motives to be found in the absolutely routine procedure of a coffee shop. Cheerfully oblivious seems to be getting under his skin, so Kirishima leans into it. “What if I forget who asked for the mocha double espresso?”

The customer rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes violently. “Right, because I'm real fucking forgettable.”

“You could be.” The look he gets for that is entirely worth breaking the Customer Is Always Right creed. “We get a lot of traffic, man, it’s nothing personal.”

The customer braces himself on the counter and leans into Kirishima’s space. Instinct hooks in his spine and tries to reel him back a step or two, but he hardens his resolve into stone and ties it to his feet, weighs himself down, refuses to budge.

“You'll remember me,” the customer says. A promise like a threat, and for the first time in the duration of this exchange Kirishima feels seen by him. Acknowledged. It's the same feeling as scoring well on a test, or making a sad friend laugh. Hard-won and worth it. Kirishima can't stop the grin from breaking onto his face so he doesn't try to.

“Sure I will. I like you.”

And the look he gets for that, well, that's priceless.

“So that name?”

“Fuck off.”

The guy recovers fast, that's for sure. Kirishima watches him skulk to the serving counter where he roots himself like a particularly irritable tree and barks at anyone who gets too close. The next customer gets an extra punch in her punch card for the wait, and when the guy's order is up, Kirishima is ready with a sharpie in hand. Amajiki has ventured back out to help with orders, steadfastly avoiding anything problem-customer-related, but he blanches when he sees what Kirishima is scribbling on the cup. “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Should I be getting you help?”

“Trust me,” Kirishima says. He caps the coffee and walks it to its rightful owner. “One mocha double espresso for Mr. Unforgettable.”

The guy snatches the cup. He stomps off without another word.

Thirty seconds later he stomps right back.

“Blasty McSplode?”

Amajiki ducks under the counter. Kirishima, in the process of taking another order, smiles wide enough to cramp his cheeks.

“Hey! Back already?”

“Blasty Mc-Fucking-Splode?”

“You wouldn't give me your name. I had to take a stab at it myself. Was I close?”

“I'll show you taking a stab—”

Blasty rants and raves for a full minute, splashing mocha just about everywhere, until finally Fat Gum himself ambles out of his office to gently shoo him from the shop. Kirishima waves at him around Fat Gum’s bulk. Blasty waves his middle finger in response. When Fat Gum comes back in he raises an eyebrow at Kirishima, which, yeah, he definitely deserves, but he also passes a heavy hand through his carefully gelled hair to show that he's not really mad. Kirishima fixes his hair as best he can while Amajiki climbs out from under the counter.

“I can't believe he didn't kill you for that,” he says, his voice buffed by awe.

Kirishima gives the next customer's punch card an extra punch too. Hell, he gives her two extra punches. Why not? He's in a great mood.

Two days later Blasty stalks in and Kirishima can't believe his good fortune. He calls out a greeting from across the cafe and gets a glare in response, but that glare holds, a few seconds of extended eye contact, long enough to stay in Kirishima’s belly after it's ended and flutter there.

Blasty growls his order. Kirishima asks for his name. Blasty tells him to go die and Kirishima scribbles Lord Explosion Murder on the cup. He's rewarded with a snort of amusement.

“Did you see that?” he gushes to Kaminari, after Blasty has left. “He totally laughed! He liked it!”

“I saw it I saw it ow stop hitting me!” Kaminari rubs the place on his shoulder that Kirishima had been slapping repeatedly. “I dunno, man. That sounded more like a scoff to me.”

Nah, he's pretty sure he was amused.

The next time he comes in, after the requisite exchange (“Your name for the order?” “Eat a dick,” “Cool cool I think I'd get fired if I wrote that but cool,”) Kirishima writes King Explosion Murder on the side of the cup.

“Better,” Blasty huffs.

Kirishima feels like cloud-walking for the rest of the day. Kaminari isn’t on shift, but when Kirishima texts him, he texts back: “I stand corrected. When are you asking him out?”

“All in due time,” Kirishima promises his phone.

NOVEMBER

Blasty’s schedule:

He shows up Monday mornings, rumpled by sleep and grouchier than usual, before he heads off to class. Wednesday evenings he drinks and studies until closing time. Saturday afternoons he sits at the window with a bento. Coincidentally these are the three days and times that Kirishima is on duty. And it must be coincidental, because if it's not then that means that Blasty memorized his schedule and molded his life accordingly, learned to fit him in, looks forward to seeing him three days out of the week. Kirishima may be an optimist, but he's not delusional. He knows how dangerous a daydream like that can be.

He’s probably just here because it’s a good place to study. And there must be an exam coming up, because lately he’s been showing up with even more books than usual, and suitcases under his eyes instead of bags. He’s crabbier, too, which Kirishima didn’t think was possible and is honestly impressed by. By this point he has unofficially become the only one willing to serve him, but this wild-eyed evolution of Problem Customer into Demon Customer From Hell just clinches it.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Kirishima says, when he brings over Blasty’s third espresso in as many hours. It’s Saturday, usually Blasty’s day to sit and gaze out the window with one of his more pensive death glares, but today he’s entombed himself in a mountain of notes and textbooks. Kirishima nudges aside a few notebooks to make room for the cup.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself with a rake,” says Blasty, without looking up from the violent strokes of his pen. “Touch my stuff again and I’ll kill you myself, shitty hair.”

Watching from behind the counter, Amajiki wheezes with secondhand horror. Kirishima peers at the crowded table. “Hey, where’s your bento?”

Blasty slams his pen down. “Was I not clear enough, you moron? Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

Kirishima raises his hands in surrender. Blasty’s mouth opens as if to say something else, but nothing comes out. Maybe he’s realized he’s gone a step too far. They stare at each other for a beat, and then his jaw snaps shut. He jerks his head back to his books and Kirishima retreats to the counter.

“He can’t speak to you like that,” Amajiki says, suddenly stern. He’s always braver on someone else’s account. “I’ll tell Fat Gum, he’ll understand. We don’t have to serve him. You don’t have to take his abuse.”

“The guy’s under a lot of stress,” Kirishima says. It’s overindulgent even for him, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Blasty wrench his gaze away. “And I think he feels bad.”

Amajiki obviously doesn’t think so, but he says nothing more, which Kirishima appreciates. By closing time Blasty is the only customer left in the shop, still hunched over his books and writing furiously. Kirishima has given him his space, and he hasn’t asked for another coffee. Amajiki is still angry enough to go tell him they’re closing—he’ll even be properly intimidating about it—but Kirishima stops him.

“I’ll lock up,” he offers. Amajiki’s look of disapproval is a blow to Kirishima’s pride, but he stands firm. So Fatgum leaves, and Amajiki leaves, with a sigh and a firm promise that he’ll be on standby if Kirishima needs anything, and then the place is empty and it’s just him, Blasty, and the scritching sound of his pen.

Kirishima takes his time. He cleans up and Blasty keeps studying. He locks the doors and Blasty keeps studying. He sits down at a table across the cafe and gets some of his own homework done, and Blasty keeps studying. Then he goes back to the machines, knowing he’ll have to clean them again, and whips up a special drink. When he’s done, he writes FIGHT ON! where the name should go.

“I don't want your fucking charity,” Blasty says as he sets it down.

“You’ve accepted it so far,” Kirishima points out blandly, gesturing to the very obviously closed cafe. Before Blasty can bite his head off, he continues, “Anyway, don't think of it as charity. Think of it as…an investment.”

“Investment in what?” His eyes are narrowed and very red, both in the iris and the bloodshot sclera.

Kirishima weighs the pros and cons of his next move and decides to go for it. He hazards a wink. “In my future best customer.”

Blasty is unimpressed. Like, fatally unimpressed. Like, it's impressive how unimpressed he looks. Aggressively deadpan. He has to practice that look in the mirror.

But he takes the cup, and when Kirishima peeks at him later, he's smirking at the sharpie message.

Monday morning sees Blasty quiet and terse, but civil. Civil for him, anyway. Kaminari is disturbed.

“What did you do?” he hisses once Blasty bulls out of the shop.

“Nothing.” Even if he barely met Kirishima’s eyes. Not promising.

“Did you fight?”

“No.”

“Did he turn you down?”

“No. Dude, nothing happened.”

Kaminari raises his hands. For a minute they work in silence.

“So if you didn’t get turned down, are you gonna ask him out soon?”

Kirishima hands off an order, and then lets his customer service smile drop. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ve got to give him some space.”

“Okay, but what about all your fortune favors the manly stuff? Isn’t that the reason you got this far in the first place?”

“How far is that? I still don’t know his name.” He can feel Kaminari’s eyes on him, and he tries to rally. Picks up his smile and pastes it back on. “Hey, enough about me. How’s it going with you and Shinsou?”

Kaminari lights up. For the next twenty minutes he regales Kirishima—and the whole cafe—with his loud and maudlin romantic woes, all he’s so hot the bags under his eyes should not be so hot and his dry sense of humor is so hard to read and I think he’s flirting with me but I thought that with Jirou and she and Momo still won’t let me live it down.

Kirishima listens and laughs and offers advice, and he does his job, and he doesn’t think about his grumpy favorite customer even once. Really he doesn’t.

When Blasty comes in on Wednesday, he looks well rested. Kirishima waves before getting back to orders. This is apparently not good enough for Blasty, because he scowls at the people in line and then stalks over to the serving counter and proceeds to glare daggers, like he expects Kirishima to just up and abandon his work to attend to him. Like, yeah, he wants to, but it wouldn’t be right. Even if Blasty scares other customers away from the counter. And even if Kirishima is getting steadily more distracted the longer he stares.

On the third order he messes up, Tetsutetsu intervenes.

“Go on,” he sighs, nudging Kirishima aside as the next customer steps up. “Make it fast, bro.”

Kirishima promises him a meat bun after work and hurries over. “Hey. You’re looking better. Did you ace the test?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

There’s a stalled moment. Kirishima taps his fingers on the counter. Blasty is visibly grinding his molars.

“Cool, so I’m gonna get back to work, I’ll make you your regular—”

“Last week,” Blasty starts. He bites out each word. “Last week, I was.” He stops, lips pressed tight and bloodless.

“An asshole,” Kirishima supplies.

Blasty hums low in his throat. Or he growls. Either way it’s as close to an admission as Kirishima is going to get, and it clearly took a hilarious amount of self restraint for even that much.

Blasty clears his throat and says, “That drink you made. What was in it?”

Kirishima is a little thrown by the shift. “Xoaxacl chocolate, a little chili powder. I thought you might like an extra kick.”

“It wasn’t half bad.” There’s color along the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take one of those.”

Maybe Kirishima had been more upset by Blasty’s behavior on Saturday than he thought, because now he feels loads lighter, any old hurts dissipating like clouds under the sun. He smiles, and Blasty blinks a lot, the color spreading to his cheeks and his ears and down his throat.

“One special order, comin’ right up!”

Kirishima turns around and reaches for a cup and marker. And then, behind him: “Bakugou Katsuki.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

Blasty is rubbing roughly at his mouth. His whole face is glowing. “You heard me.”

“Bakugou,” says Kirishima, trying the taste on his tongue. Bakugou, full of plosives and hard consonants. “I love it. It suits you.”

Bakugou’s eyes snap wide, then narrow just as fast. “Why the fuck should I care what you think of my name? It doesn't need your approval, dipshit.”

When Kirishima is finished making his drink, Bakugou snatches it from his hand and whirls on his heel, a dramatic spray of foam following him out. Kirishima tingles where their fingers touched.

Then he watches Bakugou take a deep pull, and he has to go clean the latte machine before he’s murdered by the lethal and lovely line of Bakugou’s throat.

DECEMBER

“Y’know, I still don’t know what you study.”

“Probably because it’s none of your business.”

“Right. Except how it kind of is literally my business, since I let you study here, in my place of work, after we’ve closed.”

This has become their ritual. On Saturdays Bakugou stay past closing, sometimes doing schoolwork, sometimes helping clean up, sometimes just chatting. He never stays past nine thirty—Kirishima has learned that he likes to turn in before ten every night, which is bizarrely adorable—but it doesn’t matter. Any amount of time with him is always going to feel like a blessing, and it’s never going to feel like enough.

“You’re not doing me any favors, shitty hair, get that thought out of your empty skull this instant.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kirishima finishes cleaning up. Once the last table is wiped down he sits heavily across from Bakugou, happy to finally be off his feet. His eyes feel swollen, too big for his skull. His grades have yet to pick up despite the extra hours of studying he’s been putting in. He presses his knuckles into his eyes for a moment of relief.

“I’m a med student.”

He blinks the colorless starbursts from his eyes. Bakugou, across from him, comes into focus: his head is still down, his gaze still fixed on his book. Sometimes he wears glasses, thick dark frames that Kirishima loves, and today is one of those days. He grins.

“No shit! You’re going to be a doctor?”

“A surgeon.” Some color rises in his ears; he looks pleased. Maybe because of how awed Kirishima sounds. But why wouldn’t he? Anyone working to help people is worthy of admiration, and manly as hell.

“Dude, that’s awesome. I’m studying to be a nurse.”

The corner of Bakugou’s mouth twitches upward. “Nurses are badass.”

“I think so. You a doctor, me a nurse. I bet we’d make a good team.”

Bakugou scoffs, even as pink starts to pool in his collarbones. Kirishima still doesn’t get why certain things make him flush, but he’s happy to learn. He rests his cheek in his hand and tries not to smile too dopily. “Y’know, for a med student you sure drink a lot of coffee. You know too much of this stuff is terrible for you, right?”

“I’m going to tell your boss you said that and get you fired.”

“That’s really not how it works.”

Bakugou’s glare is magnified by the glasses. He takes a long, aggressive sip of his drink—the strength it takes Kirishima not to burst out laughing is Herculean, truly, with the slurping and the deliberate eye contact and all, because only Bakugou could turn coffee into an intimidation tactic. Then he says, “Whatever. I'm invincible.”

Kirishima bursts out laughing. Bakugou grumbles beneath his breath, but his threats delight Kirishima more than they intimidate; Kirishima’s laughter seems to confound Bakugou more than it enrages. They're good for each other, is his sudden thought, and it thrills him.

He’s a little teary and a little breathless by the time he gets himself under control. Through the blurry smudge of his eyelashes he sees Bakugou. Then he’s breathless all over again.

Bakugou’s face—Kirishima wouldn’t say it softens. But there is a softness there, in his unsmiling mouth, in his brow, stern but smooth. He’s just—watching him, steadily. Intent.

“Hey,” Kirishima says, and it’s easy, it’s so easy. “Make sure you come in on Christmas, alright? I get out early, and I want to ask you something.”

And maybe he expects Bakugou to fluster, or to scowl, or to demand to hear his question then and there. He doesn’t.

“Fine,” he says, and he just keeps watching. Like he wouldn’t mind watching Kirishima forever.

Maybe Kirishima’s projecting a little.

Bakugou would probably tear him a new one for spreading the news around, but Kirishima is too excited to keep it to himself.

“I’m happy for you,” says Amajiki, sounding worried but sincere.

“Congrats, man,” says Tetsutetsu, and then they have a celebratory arm wrestling match.

Kaminari is a little more suspicious. “So you haven’t asked him out yet?”

He’s standing on a stepladder, hanging Christmas decorations while Kirishima mans the counter. Bakugou has already stopped by for his morning coffee, and it’s been a slow morning since. The few people trickling in have been couples, sharing hot chocolate and slices of cake. Kirishima has spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about similar situations. In his head it’s usually a little less cozy and a little more explosive, but he likes it better that way.

“Technically no.” He tops the latte he’s working on with extra foam. “I asked him to come by on Christmas, and I’m going to ask him out then. I’ve got a plan.”

Kaminari doesn’t need to know how nebulous said plan is. At the moment it includes things like Step One: Bribe With Spicy Food (Addendum: Can Christmas Cake Be Spicy?), Step Two: Sweep Bakugou Off His Feet, Step C: Profess Manly Adoration, Step N: Kiss Just Like, Wow, A Whole Bunch. The truth is he’s always been more of an in the moment kind of guy. But he likes Bakugou—he really, really likes Bakugou. He doesn’t want to screw everything up with an impulsive word or action. And if that means taking precautions he wouldn’t usually bother with, he’ll take them.

“I dunno, man,” says Kaminari. “Midoriya and Momo are all about plans. You…not so much.”

Kirishima decides Kaminari knows him too well. “Any progress with Shinsou?”

That does the trick. Kaminari brightens like the bunch of LED Christmas lights in his arms. He practically swoons, the stepladder protesting beneath him. “Dude, you have no idea. I took a leaf out of your book, just asked him straight out, and lemme tell you I knew Hitoshi was hot but I’ve never seen anyone blush so cute in my whole damn life—”

He swoons a little too hard, arms wheeling, and Kirishima barely vaults the counter in time to catch him. There’s some polite applause from the handful of patrons in the shop. Kirishima and Kaminari bow, and then Fat Gum tells them to quit fooling and get back to work.

Kirishima does not spend the rest of his shift thinking about how Kaminari called Shinsou Hitoshi. And he definitely does not think about calling Bakugou by his first name on Christmas.

He does, however, scrawl Katsuki on no less than three to-go cups.

Kirishima does not see Bakugou on Christmas. He does not see much of anyone, or anything, on Christmas. He can barely see his own hand in front of his face, which could be the delirium brought on by the fever or the copious amount of sweat rolling into his eyes, which is also brought on by the fever.

As badly as he wants to push through the pain, not even he is hardheaded enough to try and drag his sorry carcass to work. It’s hard enough to drag his sorry carcass to the bathroom and back. He tries to text his coworkers (Tamaki? Kaminari? Tetsutetsu? He can’t recall who’s working today, so he texts all of them) and asks them to apologize to Bakugou, but the characters are swimming in his vision and he’s pretty sure the result is gibberish. Which means it’s over. He’s going to be laid up in bed for weeks, he’s going to fail his finals, and come next semester he’ll have a new class schedule, and he’ll never see Bakugou again. He’s blown it. Romance is dead.

Someone’s knocking on the door. He doesn’t answer it right away—it takes a minute for him to peel the rhythm of the pounding door from the pounding in his head. It takes a minute longer for him to stumble up and open it.

“You look like shit,” says Bakugou. He’s standing there looking like god’s gift to the earth, even scowling, even bundled in hat and scarf and mask, even laden down with groceries. Kirishima is pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

“Well? Are you letting me in or what?”

Kirishima lets him in. Bakugou toes out of his boots and then he plants himself in the middle of the room, jerking his head this way and that, taking it all in: the kitchenette-slash-living room, the card table turned dining table, the clashing red and hot pink interior design. “This place is a shitshow,” he declares. “No roommate?”

“She’s spending Christmas with friends.” More specifically, Mina had left last night with the implication that if Kirishima’s date went well he was free to come back to the apartment. There was a lot of obnoxious winking and innuendos. It was sweet of her, if a little mortifying and inappropriate, and in the end entirely wasted when he woke up with the mother of all migraines.

Bakugou drops the groceries on the table and starts shucking his outerwear. The hat, the scarf, the puffy coat. Kirishima sways in place and watches him. He’s wearing a red button down, and beneath that a black tee with the Punisher logo on it. It’s just a little bit dressier than his everyday attire. Is this what he would have worn on their date? If Kirishima had ever gotten to ask him properly? He sighs, forlorn.

Bakugou turns back to him, and they stare at each other. They keep staring at each other until Bakugou reaches past him to close the door, which was still hanging open over his shoulder. Whoops.

“God damn, you’re out of it. Get back to bed, loser.”

He cuffs him over the head, except it’s less of a cuff and more of a ruffle, exasperated and fond. So Kirishima totters back to bed. Hallucination or not, he’s happy to see Bakugou one last time.

When he wakes up, it’s to the rich, earthy kinds of aromas he associates with home cooking, if not necessarily his home. His first thought is that Mina came home early, but she’s just as useless in the kitchen as he is. So either a burglar broke in to cook for him or he wasn’t having an incredibly vivid fever dream, as he’d previously assumed. Which means Bakugou is really, actually, truly in his home.

The door to his bedroom bangs open while he’s wrestling with the sweat-soaked sheets. Bakugou is armed to the teeth with soup, water, tea, pills, and towel, all laid out and puffing steam on a serving tray that Kirishima doesn’t remember owning. He raises an eyebrow at Kirishima’s ogling and knees him in the side.

“Sit up. You have to eat and rehydrate.”

The tray lands on Kirishima’s lap, and then the water and the pills are pushed into his hands. While he’s downing both, Bakugou makes a sour face at the state of his room, and bustles out to change the bedside wastebasket for a clean bag. Kirishima would be more humiliated if he weren’t so happy to see him at all.

When Bakugou comes back he’s got a thermometer in one hand and the card table’s folding chair under an arm. He kicks the chair open, spins it around, and slings one leg over the side. He brandishes the thermometer like a weapon of war.

“Open.”

The thermometer jabs under Kirishima’s tongue. He winces only a little, and his voice comes out nasally and muffled and a little wondering. “I can’t believe you’re really real.”

“What else would I be?”

“I don’t know, a dream? A near death hallucination?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Shut up until I get your temperature.”

A few seconds later the thermometer chirps. Bakugou snaps it up and glares at it, and then something in his face relaxes.

“Barely a fever. You’ll live, moron.”

Kirishima asks, “How’d you know where I live?”

“Your dumbass coworker said you were sick. I threatened him bodily harm until he gave me your address.” Like it’s so obvious. Which, yeah, maybe it is. Probably Kaminari, who is both susceptible to Bakugou’s intimidation tactics and has been pushing for them to get together. When Bakugou snaps open the damp towel and starts mopping at Kirishima’s sweaty face, grumbling beneath his breath, he decides that he’s grateful.

For the first time he’s realizing how silly his fever induced fears were. He might be down for the count for a few days, but he won’t miss his finals, even if he might fail them. And even if his schedule falls out of sync with Bakugou’s, it’s not like he’ll be gone forever. They have a mutual friend in Midoriya, as Kirishima learned recently. Or else he could just loiter around the cafe until they learn each other’s new schedules. This doesn’t have to be the end at all. Bakugou proved that by coming here.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” he croaks. “I really wanted to be there with you today. Was looking forward to it all week.”

Bakugou dismisses him with a roll of his eyes. He folds his arms across the back of the chair and rests his chin on them. “So? What happened?”

“End of the semester. Bad grades. Finals.” He waves a vague hand to encompass the studying and the stress and the lack of sleep. It probably didn’t help that he ran himself into the ground trying to justify a night off with Bakugou, though he doubts that comes across with his flappy wrist.

“Guess it all caught up to me.” He spoons some soup into his mouth. “Oh my god, this is delicious. You made this?”

“I’m great at everything, obviously.” His mask twists with a frown. “You’re having trouble in school?”

“’M not a genius like you.”

“It’s not about being a genius, it’s about studying habits. You need someone to quiz you, keep you on task.” A pause, nearly short enough to be casual. “I’ll do it.”

Kirishima lowers the bowl he had been tipping over for the last of the broth. “You?”

“What, you think I can’t? I’ll be the best damn tutor you’ve ever seen, shitty hair.” Another pause. This one is more thoughtful.

“What?” says Kirishima.

Bakugou shakes his head. His voice has dropped to a low rumble in his chest. “Never seen you with your hair down. You should chuck all your gel, it’s not so shitty like this.”

“Didn’t think I’d have company to put it up for. I’d have to flip upside down to do it right, I probably would have passed out and died.”

Bakugou snorts. “You’d think a nurse would take better care of himself.”

Kirishima snorts back, with a little more phlegm. “You’d think a doctor would have better bedside manner.”

All of a sudden Bakugou’s scowl is a little less—scowly, than it usually is. More searching. More intense. Their eyes meet for a second too long and it’s like someone is pouring nitroglycerin down the column of Kirishima’s spine.

“Sounds like you want to know more about my bedside manner.”

He’s smirking, and there are so many things—so many things—that Kirishima could say to that. Things that would be smart or things that would be manly or things that would be safe. So many things.

His fever speaks for him. “Well, if you’re offering.”

The smirk falls away and that intensity comes roaring back. Kirishima’s insides ignite. Bakugou rises slowly and doesn’t once blink, and his chair scrapes on the floor, and Kirishima has the thought I hope that doesn’t scratch the wood—

Then Bakugou is kissing him. The rough weave of his mask and the heat of his mouth behind it, like a brand. His open eyes. His hand cradling the curve of Kirishima’s skull. It’s overwhelming and it’s nothing at all, less of a kiss than a touch, less of a touch than a promise. Kirishima clutches at him because he’ll fall away otherwise, he’s hungry and dizzy and unmoored, and he’s got one hand clenched in Bakugou’s shirt and one in his hair and it’s soft, how is it so soft? His heart lurches in his chest.

No no no, not his heart. “Bakugou, back up, I—oh shit—”

He pulls away and flops over the side of the bed, unable to see if his hail mary aim for the wastebasket came through. Only once he’s done tossing his guts does he register the steadying arm around his shoulders. The hand pushing back his hair. It’s warm and square and dry, with callouses on every finger.

“You’re disgusting,” Bakugou says from somewhere above him. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re the one who just kissed a sick man. What does that make you?”

“Magnanimous as fuck.”

Kirishima laughs. It hurts every part of him, but it’s good. It’s really good.

“I really like you, Bakugou. Like a lot.”

It comes out so easy, just like that day in the cafe. He’s still half upside down and his mouth is still sour. Bakugou’s hand is still in his hair. Through the damp red locks that escape his grip Kirishima can see him, and for the first time since they met, he looks starry-eyed. It is the most amazing feeling in the world, even when Bakugou blinks the stars away and glowers.

“Is that why you wanted me to come by the cafe today? I already knew that, dipshit.”

His voice is dismissive and mocking, but his hand is still in Kirishima’s hair, and his collarbones have flooded pink. It’s just like Bakugou to flirt and kiss him within an inch of his life only to get shy about a little sincerity.

“Yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I was hoping we could go out and, I don’t know, look at Christmas lights. Bake a cake together. Pelt each other with snowballs or something. I like you a lot.”

Bakugou helps him sit up. At his urging Kirishima rinses his mouth with water and then sips some of the tea. It’s lemony and sweet.

Bakugou demands, “What took you so long? I don’t like idiots who beat around the bush, Kirishima. Didn’t think you were like that.”

Kirishima. He doesn’t think he ever wants anyone else to say his name. “Yeah, Kaminari said the same thing. But I didn’t want to mess things up with you.”

“So you decided to be a dumbass? How’d that work out for you?”

He mulls it over. “The guy I like is seeing me half dead, so that’s embarrassing. On the other hand, the guy I like is taking care of me while I’m sick, which is pretty sweet. Net gain, I think.” He’s heartened by the amused squint of Bakugou’s eyes. “So? Want to go out with me?”

For a long moment, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He just watches, steady, intent, and his hand weaves slow, thoughtless paths through Kirishima’s hair. Kirishima has never been in love before, but he thinks this must be it. He can’t imagine anything else hurting quite so sweetly.

“I’m not dating anyone while I’m still in school,” Bakugou says. “That would be fucking stupid.”

“Okay. After med school is residency, right? You think you’ll be dating then?”

Bakugou’s expression isn’t starry-eyed anymore, but it’s pretty damn close.

He says, “Stick around and find out.”

JANUARY

A new semester means a new schedule, and Kirishima’s does not match up with Bakugou’s even once. It’s a little bit of a bummer, sure, but he’ll survive.

The last customer of the day leaves the cafe two minutes to closing. Kirishima sighs, cracks his neck, and starts prepping the last drink of the day. He sets it on the counter and then he starts wiping down tables, and when the clock strikes the hour, Kaminari goes to lock the doors.

They burst open before he gets there and Kaminari jumps two feet in the air and falls flat on his back. In strides Bakugou, and Kirishima’s heart flutters even as he stands back and cackles at Kaminari for a solid thirty seconds.

“Kirishima,” Kaminari whines from the floor, “your boyfriend’s being mean to me!”

Bakugou kicks at him. “We’re not dating.”

“Ha! Sure, and I’m not dating an insomniac with a fine ass—okay okay you’re not dating, quit kicking me!”

He does, but only after Kirishima scolds him and entices him away with a drink. He grabs it off the counter and passes it to Bakugou. Then he snatches it back.

“Forgot the name, just a sec!”

“You already know my name,” Bakugou groans, but he follows Kirishima behind the counter with barely a frown. “Hurry up, shitty hair, I don’t have all night to tutor your ass.”

“Tutor your ass,” Kaminari laughs from the floor. Bakugou growls.

Kirishima finds the marker and uncaps it. Before he can start to write, Bakugou threads their fingers together and squeezes hard.

“I can’t write your name with my left hand, Bakugou.”

Bakugou hooks his chin over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Well, Kirishima likes a challenge. The final result is messy, but legible. He garnishes it with a heart. “Here.”

“Stupid,” Bakugou huffs, but he accepts the cup and takes a swig. Then he yanks Kirishima toward the exit, where Kaminari is finally peeling himself off the floor.

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?” he asks, dusting himself off. “Double--”

“If you say double date, I’ll set you on fire,” says Bakugou. “And only if shitty hair here passes his test with flying colors.”

Kaminari endeavors to look contrite--his face wasn’t really built for it--but when Bakugou’s back is turned, he shoots Kirishima a subtle thumbs up and mouths double date. Kirishima returns the favor.

Out on the street it’s cold and biting. Bakugou hisses, and takes another gulp of his drink. Kirishima watches him glance at the name on the side of the cup again. If he pointed out the color in his cheeks he knows Bakugou would say it was the cold, or the heat of the drink, and then he’d punch him for good measure. But Kirishima can see his smile, hard-won and worth it. He can see how he passes a thumb over the shaky black characters, over and over: Katsuki.

#fyeahbnhasecretsanta #my hero academia #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #shinkami #in the background mostly #kaminari denki #amajiki tamaki #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #fat gum #bnha fic #ran's writing #pointy-hat-witch #fyeahbnha #coffeeshop au #university au

116 notes · View notes

justgillespie · 4 years ago

Text

Missing (6/?)

Summary: Your next door neighbor, Luke Patterson (a.k.a. your longtime crush) has gone missing, and you think you could help finding him.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: none!

Author’s note: Hi! So I’m back, and I’ve had a big writer’s block, so that’s why this part is kind of 💩. Anyways, hope you still enjoy!

Part 7

•

Sunday went fine.

You and your family went to church, you had lunch back at your house and then even watched a movie together, before getting everything ready for your sister’s boyfriend’s visit. He came and charmed your parents and yourself. He was very nice and polite. You couldn’t help but be grateful for the fact that he was nice to YOU. Tamra’s other boyfriends were usually indifferent at your presence and some of them would even get bothered by you, which you always thought was ridiculous because you didn’t even talk around them, as Tamra would ask you. And most importantly, he did like dessert. You and Tamra decided to bake Torta Tres Leches (your specialty) and he loved it. And after dinner, he helped you and your sister clean the dishes.

“...We ain’t searching for tomorrow...”

Tyler sang while washing a plate, and you couldn’t hide your surprise.

“You know Sunset Curve?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that much. They had performed in several places before. Maybe it should surprise you if someone didn’t know them.

“You know them?” He asked smiling.

“The lead singer is our neighbor next door.” Tamra informed him.

“That’s awesome! Could we meet him?” He said with shiny eyes.

“Sure. If he wasn’t missing.” Tamra said, placing the dishes in their place.

“What?” He said, his eyes wide open. “Really? That’s messed up! I know them because they tried to set their stuff in front of the caffe once, a while ago, but my boss kicked them out as soon as he saw them. But they dropped a demo on the sidewalk, I think on purpose, and I took it. I’ve been listening to it nonstop ever since.”

“Would you mind borrowing it to Y/N? She’s trying to reach them to find Luke. Luke’s the lead singer.” Tamra explained.

“Sure, I can give it to you this week.” Tyler said looking at you.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think I’m doung that anymore.”

“What? Really?” Tamra asked you. “Why?”

“Long story.” Not really.

Your sister looked like she wanted to insist, so you spoke again.

“I’m telling you about it later.” You rolled your eyes.

Tyler and Tamra kept talking about the band and she told him about the time she saw them playing at the bookclub. You helped them finish cleaning the rest of the dishes, quietly.

“I’m heading up to my room. It was nice meeting you Tyler.” You smiled politely.

“You aren’t watching a movie with us?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“Next time, I promise.”

“Perfect. See you soon, kiddo.”

You said you wouldn’t, but once you got to your room, you couldn’t help to open your window and look at Luke’s room again. Still empty and perfectly cleaned.

What Tamra said got stuck in your head. You started the investigation just four days ago, and you were already giving up.

I wouldn’t say it’s giving up, you thought, it doesn’t make any sense to keep looking for him if he has no plans of coming back.

Maybe there was such thing as too optimistic, after all. You underestimated the situation and expected too much. You didn’t realize how real this was until now. And right then it hit you: this wasn’t a joke. Luke was missing. Kind of. And you were trying to find him?

You must’ve looked ridiculous playing the detective.

You were still starring at the other side of your window when you heard Tamra laying down on your bed, in a jump.

“You didn’t watch the movie?” You asked, finally turning your head to see her.

“No. I told him to go home. It’s pretty late already and he has to work tomorrow.” She responded, looking at the ceiling.

You left your window seat and climbed onto you bed next to her.

“He’s super cool. I like him. Mom and dad did too.”

“Yeah.” You noticed the little smile on her face. “He loved you all too. Especially you. He says you’re adorable.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m only two years younger than you two.”

“Well, say that to him. He told me he’s taking you as his little sister. He’s an only child, by the way.”

“That sounds fun.” You joked and she hit your arm slightly. “I’m just kidding! But I always wanted a big brother, so he’s more than welcome.”

“Hey!”

“I didn’t say I want to change you for him.” You rolled your eyes. “I just want an older brother, that’s all.”

You tried to distract her for a little while, talking about Tyler, but that didn’t work for too long.

“What’s that about you quitting the investigation?” Tamra finally asked, and you sighed.

“That I’m letting the police do their work.”

“But, why?”

“It’s too much. I am just a sixteen year old.”

“You’re just months away from being seventeen.”

“Does that change anything?”

She looked at you carefully. “What happened?”

You shook your head before talking.

“Every time I think or feel I’m closer to find him, turns out I’m only further. Did you know this isn’t a movie? Where everything just comes in hand? Because apparently, I didn’t. And now I’m here.”

Tamra starred at you for a minute. “It’s weird seeing you giving up. You never give up. And you’re always so positive. It makes me crazy sometimes but it’s one of things I appreciate about you.”

It’s not giving up, you wanted to say, but maybe it was.

“But I guess you’re right. You are just a sixteen-almost-seventeen year old. How much could you do?”

She said it on purpose and you knew it. She wanted to get in your head. She just didn’t know she already did.

You just stayed silent.

You did feel bad. You tried not to think too much about it, but you did. You didn’t like the way you just... well, gave up. The way you were so close, and still didn’t get Luke. But it happened. And this wasn’t a game. It was real life.

“Are we not gonna talk about the cute guy that brought you home yesterday?”

Your thoughts fade away when Tamra spoke again after a while.

“Josh?”

“That’s his name? I didn’t remember. But, yeah, him I guess.”

“He asked me out. And I said yes.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at you. “So you’re planning on dating him or...?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Maybe is not an answer.”

“Um, yes it is. As in, maybe I will date him. Maybe I will not.”

“The fact that you’re hesitating is a bad sign.”

“I’m just-” You sat in your place. “-not sure. What if I waste this opportunity? I mean, come on. Josh is cute. Really cute. He plays football, likes to read, he’s really sweet and he’s fun to be with. But...”

“He’s not Luke.”

“Yeah, he’s not... wait.” Your heart sank. “What do you mean?!”

Tamra chuckled. “You thought I didn’t notice? You are really obvious.”

“But- how-? What-?” You shook your head, confused.

“I noticed ever since we moved. You were all heart-eyed for him the day him and his family came with those delicious muffins.”

Somehow, you felt a bit relieved. At least she didn’t know you’ve been sort of spying on him.

“Every time he says hi to you, you have a dumb smile on your face. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t know you like him.”

You blushed. You really hoped Tamra was just exaggerating like she usually does.

“I’m surprised you never talked to him, though.” She added.

You just shrugged and didn’t say anything.

“So?!” Tamra asked. “You’re not gonna give me any details?”

“There’s not much to say.” You said. “I have a crush on him even though I don’t actually know him.”

“But you could get to know him. Once he’s back.”

You held back a laugh. If he wants to come back, you couldn’t help thinking.

“If you like him, you should go for it. I mean, I don’t see why not.”

“I don’t know. He makes me feel weird.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“Good way, I guess. But I don’t know how to act about it, you know? I’ve never actually dated anyone. I’ve been living out of crushes my whole life.”

“That’s because you never make time to date anyone.”

“I don’t have, the time to do so. I’m always either at school or dance. And when I’m not, I’m here practicing or doing homework. That’s why I usually bring my friends here instead of actually going out. Yesterday was the first time I went out in a month... What I’m trying to say is that dating is not a priority of mine. I like Luke, but nothing ever happens with him. If things were supposed to happen, they should’ve happened already.”

“But that’s because you don’t make a move.”

“Why can’t he make the first move?”

“Nobody said he can’t. He’s just not doing anything, so maybe you should do it first.”

“Don’t you think that the reason he doesn’t make any moves could be because he’s not interested in me?”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“No, but-“

“Then you will never know.” She sat and faced you. “You’re wasting your time.”

You wanted to disagree, but it was true. Luke wasn’t your first crush, but he was the first boy you’ve ever considered the idea of dating. Or at least you fantasized with that image in your head.

“I’m just saying.” She lifted herself up from your bed and walked to the door. “Didn’t you regret it when you found out he ran away? You’ll have a second chance, but it’s up to you, if you take it or not.”

When Tamra left, you tried to ignore everything she said, because it really was nothing you haven’t thought about already.

A second chance.

That reminded you of the promise you made to Mrs. Patterson.

You told her you would visit her the next day after school, when you found her at church. Mr. Patterson even thanked you personally for doing so, and told him she looked better ever since your first visit. But did you have the heart to tell her you’re not searching for Luke anymore? You weren’t even sure if she actually believed you could find him, but it still didn’t seem easy to tell her that.

•

“Hey.” Max sat next to you in your backyard, later that night.

It was ten thirty, or maybe eleven when you called him, and asked if he could come over.

“Hey. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” He said, nudging his elbow against your arm, slightly.

You gave him a smile.

“Sorry for not calling today.” He said and you frowned.

“Why?”

Max’s cheeks went red. “Uh- I don’t know, I just, um-.”

You chuckled. “I’m just kidding. It felt weird for me too. To not talk to you today, I mean.”

He relaxed his face. “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t know if you felt that too.”

“I do. You’re kind of my best friend now.”

He looked surprised to your eyes. Maybe even excited.

“I thought you already had a best friend.”

“Let me guess. You assumed, I had a best friend?” You teased.

He giggled. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

You haven’t had a best friend since elementary school. Your old best friend, Ana, moved to another city the year you started middle school, and although you were pretty sociable, you never really found a friendship like hers again. It was tough for you, but you managed to keep going. It wasn’t like you didn’t have friends. But of course, you still felt the need of a solid friendship.

“We’ve known each other for... three months?”

“Two.”

“Just two? Wow.” He shook his head. “It feels like more. We’ve known each other for two months, and I don’t think we’ve talked as much as these last few days. I don’t think I’ve trusted anyone this fast before.”

You chuckled. “Me neither. It feels weird.”

“Yeah. And nice.”

“Yeah.” You looked at him. “I didn’t hear you say it, though.”

He didn’t have to ask to know what you meant.

“Come on. Say it.” You insisted.

“You’re my best friend too.” He rolled his eyes, smiling.

“I thought you already had a best friend.” You joked. But you actually meant it. Unlike you, he had Ian.

For your surprise, he frowned. “Who?”

You looked at him kind of annoyed. “Ian? When I asked you if you had friends, at the library, you said you had Ian.”

“I never said he was my best friend.” He then smiled. “See? You assumed.”

“I’m spending too much time with you.”

He laughed. “Definitely... but, no, Ian isn’t my best friend. We do see each other often, because our parents are close friends. And there’s school too. But we don’t like... I don’t know. Have deep talks? Or anything. What do best friends even do together?”

You laughed.

“We don’t even hang out together at school.” He continued. “He has his own friends.”

“But he went with you to ask more about Luke, the other day.”

“Well, yeah, we trust each other enough to ask favors. That doesn’t mean we’re close.”

You stayed silent, processing everything.

“It makes me feel bad that you don’t know what best friends do.” You then said.

“Thanks?”

“First of all, best friends tell each other everything.”

“Okay...” He nodded, like taking a mental note.

“I’ll go first.” You said. “I’m going out with Josh next Saturday.”

“You what?!”

“Yeah.” You said indifferent. “He kind of asked me out yesterday and I said yes.”

“I’m honestly surprised. I didn’t think he was your type.”

“Who did you think was my type?”

“Well, I don’t know...” He looked up, thinking. “I kind of see you with someone like Luke.”

“Really?” You said. Not really believing it. He had to be teasing. Maybe he knew you have a crush on him too.

“Yeah... actually, yes. It makes sense the more I think about it.”

You shook your head and almost decided to not confront him. But you just said best friends tell each other everything.

“You can say it now.”

“Say what?”

“That you know I like Luke. And tell me I’ve wasted my time, that I should’ve done something before and definitely talk to him once he’s back.”

“Wow, hold on a second.” He frowned and shook his head repeatedly. “You like Luke?!”

“Either you’re too naive or my sister was just exaggerating when she said I was being obvious about my feelings.”

“Honestly? If someone else told me, I wouldn’t have believed it. Man.” He scoffed, amused. “It really is hard to tell when you like someone. You’re just... all yourself with everyone. You don’t give special treats. Maybe Tamra could tell because she knows you better than anyone.”

You considered his theory. Maybe he was right.

“What I said about... about me seeing you with someone like Luke it’s true, though. I just haven’t thought about it until now.”

He laughed and you laughed along with him.

You enjoyed each other’s company in silence for a minute before you spoke again.

“I saw Reggie and Bobby yesterday. At the party.”

And you told him what happened. Maybe it wasn’t much of a surprise, but he was mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! I could’ve helped somehow!”

“Max, you were with Aria. I wasn’t going to interrupt.”

“You weren’t going to-.” He ran a hand though his hair, frustrated. “I can’t believe you right now! This was important! I mean, I would’ve get it if you interrupted me for some other stupid reason but this was about Luke! We could’ve found him, we-“

“Did you not just hear me? They wouldn’t say anything, just like you said before.”

“I’ll talk to them. Tomorrow at school-.”

“It wouldn’t make sense. Bobby said Luke needed some time. We don’t know how much time is that but we do know that he’s not planning on coming back soon.”

“But Mrs. Patterson...”

“I told you I sent him a message. With a little bit about everything maybe. Including his family.”

“Yeah, but he’ll think Amy sent him the message.”

“Does it even matter?”

“Well, I thought it would now that I know you like him.”

“The correct answer is, no. It doesn’t matter. The point is for him to know his family is okay. My feelings are not a part of this. Hopefully he’ll talk about it with his pillow and come back sooner than expected. For his parents.”

“...So, is it over? It’s done?”

You knew he meant the investigation, and you didn’t respond right away, trying to come up with something. You found yourself worried he would get mad again. Or reproach you like Tamra did.

“I think... at least for now, yeah. We’re done with that. We got enough information to know there’s really not much we could do.”

Another silence grew between you two.

“Come on.” You said after a while. “Tell me about Aria. How are things going with her?”

He smiled, like he was waiting for you to say that.

Max stayed until the clock ticked 12:48 and he only left because he remembered finals at his school started the next day. That was the reason he didn’t call you the whole day, because he was studying. That made you remember that finals at your own school started the next week. Exams at your dance studio did too.

But you would stress about that later.

Right now, you had a beautiful view above you, and you were willing to enjoy it as long as you could.

•

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @sovereignparker @catbcyluke @marvelgirl300 @valeriasannchez

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms

58 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 2]

Words: 2.5K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

"Your little one is here as of right now." Dr. Telille says, pointing to a very little area to the far side of my womb and I smile before she switches the focus slightly and then looks at the screen with a slightly odd look before flipping through my chart. "At your previous Obstetrician, did they mention any abnormalities?" She asks me.

"No." I shake my head.

"You said in your history you've had recurrent miscarriages?" She asks next.

"Yes."

"Okay, Mrs. Sixx, don't be alarmed by this because there is a solution but this," she turns the screen to me again, pointing at a shadow in the picture that looks like it's creating bunny ears or something. "Is a layer of tissue that's not supposed to be there. It halts fetal growth, and ultimately causes miscarriages, often times even before a fetus is interacting with the tissue itself, physically." She informs me and I feel like my chest is throbbing from how hard my heart is beating. "The good news is that we can fix this, I've had to do a few surgeries like this before--we can go in and cut that tissue out without disturbing your baby, but we will need to have it done within the next week--two weeks at the most." She explains and I raise my brows.

"What's my chance of carrying out my pregnancy to term without the surgery?" I ask, trying to stay calm.

"With a successful surgery, there is a 80% chance of you carrying it to term, and a higher chance at not facing as many pregnancy difficulties in the future like you've had previously. Without the surgery, with your history, it's very, very probable that you won't get to four months without miscarrying--if that far." She adds.

"What's the risk of this surgery causing complications?" I ask next.

"30%." She replies and I breathe out. "You don't have to make a decision today, you can go home and think about it and talk about it with the father but we need to get it scheduled in the next few days."

"Um, o-okay…" I rub my lips together.

"And if you are interested in the surgery, we can go ahead and send it in and see if insurance will cover it." She assures me.

"I don't have maternity insurance right now." I tell her and she looks at me uneasily.

"No worries, we can figure the costs out after you decide if you want it or not." She tells me, calmly, and I just nod.

I numbed myself. I would've been freaking out, having a meltdown, begging God to spare my damn baby for once...but as soon as she started in on what was wrong with me, the negative outcomes...I flicked the switch in my brain and just let myself feel absolutely nothing as best as I could. My nervousness was relief compared to blatant breakdown mode that I knew would hit inevitably.

And how the hell did I tell Duff and Nikki that I was going to need surgery that could potentially terminate my pregnancy--or suffer what I'd suffered before and still lose a baby? Oh, right. I didn't. At least, not as soon as I probably should have.

When I get to my new little house I'm renting with my savings, Duff's sitting on the little porch, drinking a beer.

"How'd it go?" He asks me, standing up as I unlock the door.

He couldn't go with me this time because he had to go look at a couple houses with Mandy, which I understand because they had already canceled once with a real-estate agent and would get charged extra if they missed another appointment.

"Good." I lie, clearing my throat.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Whisky's barking at us until he realizes it's me, and then he won't get out from under my feet until I pat him on the head.

"I need to finish unpacking." I say before Duff can ask anymore questions.

"Well, it's your lucky day because I know how to unpack." He states, grinning.

I go change into pajamas and when I get back, he's pulling pictures from one of the boxes, neatly placing them on the coffee table in the living room and I pick them up and start figuring out where to put them.

"So, my family really wants me to bring you up." He says, optimistically. "I was thinking leave Sunday and come back next Saturday."

"...Duff, I can't just up and leave right now. I have to finish unpacking, and I'm gonna be meeting with Nikki once a week and then him and the guys once a week so that's two different…" I trail off as he cuts open another one of my packed boxes with his pocket knife, a look of disappointment on his face. "...It's not that I don't want to, you know. I just have a lot going on right now."

"We'd just be gone for a week." He says, looking at me. "It's the only time off I have for a while since we're doing a few shows in New York and Europe." He adds. "And I really want my family to know you, kinda, before you have the baby."

"I don't know." I hesitantly tell him and he licks his lips. "I don't know, Duff, okay? I just...ughhh." I groan, raking my hands through my hair.

"If you don't want to meet my family then don't worry about it, Vivian." He says it a little passive aggressively and I raise my brows.

"'Vivian'? Since when the hell am I 'Vivian'?" I ask, mimicking his tone.

"That's your name isn't it?" He asks next and I cross my arms.

"You usually call me 'Viv', or...something…"

"Well, I'm not calling you, 'babe,' or, 'baby,' since we aren't dating anymore so…"

"You're being a dick."

"I'm not being a dick. I'm just family oriented and I want my family to know you and our kid and you're making up excuses to not go and meet them."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be judged." I snap back.

"They're not fucking judgemental."

"Oh, so you're cussing at me now, too, huh?"

"Quit trying to start an argument." He tells me.

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm making a valid point."

"You're making an assumption." He corrects me. "My family isn't judgemental. They're really not. I don't even think they're worried with the fact that you were married when we got together because they haven't said a word about it. They just want to meet you."

"Matt didn't seem so cool about it." I mumble.

"Matt was trying to keep both of us out of trouble." He explains. "He wasn't judging you. He just doesn't like drama and if we would've gotten caught he knew it'd just be a bunch of bullshit we'd have to get thrown at us."

I just stare at him.

"And I'm sorry for cussing at you, but I'm trying to be positive about all of this and I really don't want you to start bringing in your negativity." He exhales.

"My negativity?" I raise my brows, laughing humorlessly.

"Please, just come to Seattle with me next Sunday. I promise it'll be fun and my family's fun, they don't mean any harm by wanting you to come up and visit--they're already talking about planning a trip when it's born to be here for you and me both for a few days." He adds.

I think about it, seeing his eyes glint a little as he slowly smiles at me like a hopeful puppy.

"Okay." I relent and he puts his hands above his head, folding them together, letting out a loud, "Hallelujah!" and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a chuckle.

The truth is, I don't want to leave Nikki stewing that long after revealing to him my miscarriages. He never came back when he left the therapy session yesterday, and I was supposed to go back today but decided I needed another day to just think about everything, but because of Amber's schedule, we won't be able to get back in the same room together--aside from me just visiting him--until next Wednesday...but with Duff wanting to leave Sunday and come back that Saturday, I won't be able to meet then, either. A part of me isn't even sorry that I won't make it since the morale of Nikki's story is that he married a maestro of manipulation that can play victim like no other but is really an evil bitch who loves to make people suffer.

I gathered that after reading:

"I married a fucking demon."

"Vivian climbed from hell just to neuter me."

"My wife's a fucking lunatic."

"I sometimes think Vivian's waiting for me to die so she can get the money."

"I hate her."

"I don't know what's killing me faster: my looney wife, or smack. Doesn't matter--they're both my drug of choice."

"If she didn't know how to fuck I would've already left her."

"She flushed every bit of what Jason dropped off last night. Cost me a couple grand. I'm so pissed, if I knew she wouldn't beat the shit out of me and go batshit-ballistic, I'd lay her out on the fucking floor. I'm sure it'd be like foreplay in her sick mind, anyway."

"I swear she cums every time she belittles me."

And, my personal favorite:

"Just woke up from a fucking nightmare. I was fucking around with Vivian and Vanity and once they got their satisfaction they started eating me alive while talking about their love for God. Even with them gnawing on me alive with their shark-like teeth and their completely black eyes, stripping flesh from my bone and going at it like a fucking pork chop, I was turned on. But as soon as they started about God, how good and wonderful he was, that's when I started panicking a little that I OD'd without realizing it and was in hell or some fucking incarnation of it. I see now that's how they both got me, being hot and knowing exactly what to do to get me going. And now they're both sucking the life out of me, eating me alive, while praying to their God and acting like they're blameless in my destruction. CHICKS = TROUBLE."

At least we both agree that we married demons.

It was strange for me to realize how he saw me--well, how Sikki saw me. Once I was able to differentiate between the two of them, it hurt less reading what he'd write about me. It was just confusing.

One page would be an entire rant (with unflattering, random song lyrics to match) about something I did that pissed him off--sometimes things I wouldn't even realize I did to make him upset and then the next page would be decently positive things about me that he'd profess after waking up sort of sober…

I knew he felt guilty about how he treated me, most of the entries from the end of '83 to '87 had "I'm an asshole" or "I really fucked up" or some version of it in them but the deeper into '87 he got, the less and less apologetic he got. Both in real time and his dairies.

Despite the black and white of his diaries, one thing still lingered in the grey area…

I stare at the little TV on my dresser, bowl of captain crunch in hand as I stuff my face while flipping channels, Whisky gnawing on his chew toy as a flickering, fuzzy and static blaring familiar face flashes across the screen as I turn to the next channel. My heart stops for a moment, my finger immediately going back, the screen and audio clearing as I see her.

Clear eyed and competent. A far removal from what I last saw of her with her gnashing teeth and tortured eyes, spewing at Nikki and I both before he and her got into a fight that left her dragged down the stairs of our old house...guilt tugs at me, remembering the look on her face, the pain, the hurt...perhaps she felt as bad as I did about the situation.

He was the one telling her he was going to leave me and marry her, after all. My feury swallowed him before it ever thought about swallowing her.

"...I'm currently looking at other scripts for other films." She replies very calm and composed to whatever question her interviewer was asking...I'm assuming this is part of her press run for her new movie coming out.

"If you could write a ticket for yourself, Vanity, what would it be?" The woman asks next and she furrows her brows, slightly.

"Write a ticket? To go somewhere?"

"No, write a ticket for the rest of your life, and your career. Just everything about your life." She explains.

"Ohhh," She thinks a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I wouldn't want to do that, actually, because, um, everytime I turn around something new's happening. I'm a very spontaneous person. I just like to get up and go, and I've been doing that since I was fifteen...so, um, I couldn't say I'd like to write that ticket." She chuckles a little, but not the crack-cackle I was used to seeing in her past interviews.

She's actually sober here.

"I just wanna go wherever life takes me." She continues.

"What you're saying then, is, you couldn't write a ticket because what you would write wouldn't be as good as what could happen?"

"No, I don't--"

"--No?"

"No, I don't think that, I'm not saying that at all. I feel that I have certain goals in my life. Very big, big, dreams that I set for myself. But I wouldn't wanna, um, question God's way about where he's going with me." She states. "That's just...not me."

"If you could go back and change anything--"

"--Nothing." Vanity says, biting her lip nervously, shaking her head.

"Any of the decisions?"

"Nothing."

"Wouldn't change a thing?"

"Nothing." She buckles down on it and I feel my eyes gloss over. "Wouldn't change a thing…" she trails off, thinking for a second. "...Can't say that I would." She adds, softly. "Because each time that I've done something, whether it be a mistake in my life, it's always...what you might call a mistake in my life is never a mistake to me. It was a definite meant to be and it was a definite learning process. So all the pain and all the glory...I wouldn't change a thing."

She's so unapologetically sincere.

I cut the TV off as they start closing out the interview, and toss the remote across the room, losing my appetite and putting my bowl on my nightstand before I allow myself to replay what she just said.

And I cry, not because she was in a relationship with him, not because she tried to steal him from me...I cry because I regret everything. I regret marrying Nikki. I regret meeting Duff. I regret getting pegnant.

I'm not angry at her.

I envy her.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

38 notes · View notes

sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

Text

Ropes and Roses: part 2

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Event in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship.

Warnings: I promise that we are getting to some fun stuff, this one is mostly flirtation, fluff, and some feminine bisexual chaos.

A/N: I love some bisexual chaos. let me know what you think.

@achaoticaugust @thelastsock @viking-raider let me know what you think?

Word count: ~1600

Henry looked around the studio after placing the yoga mats down. The light tan wood floors creaked softly under his footsteps, the walls coated with a light blue paint made the space feel calm and inviting, he thought to himself that the color combination reminded him of a day at the beach. One wall was covered with mirrors, the other had a rack with more yoga mats, brightly colored jingly hip scarves, and photos taken of various dancers. Elizabeth walked back into the room wearing a soft gray shirt over the curve hugging leggings and tank top she was wearing for the previous class.

“So, Greg told me this morning that they had not fully finished the plans for the dance scene, and he was willing to take my input. I have reviewed some of your fight scene footage, I think I have a good idea of where we can start. And I’m not going to lie, with your strength, I bet you would be a lot of fun to swing dance with. Now, lets get warmed up.” She began.

She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the mat, her movement was almost fluid. He watched her black painted fingernails run through her hair, the soft curls bounced gently as she leaned her head to left slightly. Henry joined her on the floor. For the next twenty minutes he mirrored her stretches as best as he could. With every new stretch, Elizabeth would praise him for his effort. Every “good job!” she exclaimed would perk him up. He would do yoga with her every day if it meant he could hear his new teacher shower him with praise.

During the stretches, they chatted about hobbies. Something about her demeanor made him open up more easily. She teased him for still playing WoW, but he playfully jabbed, “Oh I’m sorry who all plays Elder Scroll Online still?”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

The last position they did required them to have their legs spread apart and trying to lean forward enough to drop their elbows on the floor. It was pretty clear to Henry he wouldn’t be able to make it down that far. He could feel a tightness in his lower back that was keeping him from going too far forward.

“You don’t need to go as far as me, just as far as you can. Do your best, Henry. Take a nice deep breath in with your mouth, hold it for a five count, and exhale with your nose.” She said, her voice like velvet. “You are doing a really good job, keep up the effort. I’m willing to bet that if you kept doing stretches like this, in about four months, you could probably get your elbows down like this.”

He looked at Elizabeth’s large brown eyes, trying hard not to check out her body and immediately regretting wearing his dark blue track pants. She moved upright as smooth as ever. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that she was showing off for him. He knew women would occasionally bend over backwards to impress him, and often it would work. It allowed him to be very picky with his romantic liaisons. She was up before he was, and reached out a hand to help him. With that gesture, he snapped out of his train of thought.

The dance instructor did everything she could to evoke any form of dance from Henry’s body. It was like trying to juice a rock. “So I think what we are going to try to accomplish is a basic tango. You get to look strong and imposing, your partner gets to look hella sexy. Win-win, right?” She said, trying to sound optimistic.

“It’s not too late, you can tell Greg that I should just be really great at Chess.” He teased.

“Don’t you tempt me, Mr Cavill. I might just do that.” She laughed for the first time in front of him. “So I have plans for the next couple nights, but if you want to really try to improve, I can get a partner for you to practice with on Sunday night. We would have to wait until after the school’s fall recital. But I can give you a couple hours.”

“Do you think I could actually get better.”

After a pause, and a long drink from her bottle of water, she responded as diplomatically as possible, “Well, Mr Cavill, if you don’t mind my honesty? You can’t get much worse.”

“Ouch. Ow. You hurt all two of my feelings.” He feigned insult. She raised a single eyebrow and saw right through him. Oh no, he thought, she knows I’m an absolute marshmallow.

“Uh huh, all two of your feelings. Right. So, Sunday night?” She giggled a little.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be here.” They then said their farewells, and left the studio for the night. Henry made his way home to a very excited Kal. He might still hate dancing but he enjoyed his time with Elizabeth. What was it about her that made him want to please her? Her whole face lit up when she smiles, her laugh was like music.

That night he dreamed of the teacher, and wondered just how flexible she actually was.

***

Sunday night was an absolute joy for Elizabeth. She loved watching the little kids tap dance, the couples showing off their waltz, and the group of women who show off their tribal routine. Before the last dance, she noticed that her newest student tiptoed into a spot in the back. She was actually kind of excited to let him see what she could do. Being a very thorough researcher, she knew he would be able to learn a basic routine, especially given the amount of fight choreography he had mastered. She would be able to make the connection from his brain to his body. He might not enjoy it, but she appreciated the level of dedication that he had shown in the past and was willing to put forth for her.

Between performances, the families with littles mingled and left the studio. The group of belly dancers sat on one side of the room, the couples from the ballroom dancing stayed to another side. Henry stayed in the corner by himself, hiding in an open room with a baseball cap and a hoodie.

Elizabeth came out from the back wearing black pants, a black suit jacket and a sparkly silver bralette. Her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her partner, Genevieve, wore a formfitting red dress with lovely long blonde curls. She had agreed to perform this particular dance months ago and the anticipation was palpable. Inspired by the Frieda Kahlo movie, they had always wanted to perform a two woman tango. Elizabeth and Genevieve moved together like lovers deeply enthralled with each other. The music was sensual, but not nearly as sensual as they were. The two never broke eye contact until the very end of the dance. For a brief moment, she flashed her big brown eyes at Henry. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and he gulped hard. Good, she thought, I still got it.

Genevieve and Elizabeth hugged as the students applauded their display. They wrapped up the showcase, some more mingling and gradually the other adults left. Henry stayed to himself while waiting for his teacher to be ready.

“So, Mr Cavill, what did you think?”

“That was… oh my god, so... Wow… I don’t know if I can make a coherent sentence right now.”

“Thank you, that was exactly what I was going for. Henry, this is Gennie, she will be your partner tonight.” Elizabeth removed her jacket and pulled on a black tank top to get ready for their practice. She saw him sneak a peek at her changing, looking at the roses tattooed all over the right side of her torso. Gennie and Henry shook hands to begin their time together. Elizabeth was right, they were a good pair.

Their evening was well spent, Genevieve was a gracious partner. They had great chemistry together, Elizabeth was even able to take a short video to show to Gregory. She noticed that when the connection was made by Henry his whole body language changed. He loved to be told how great he was doing. The visible pleasure made her want to keep praising him. Before the evening class was done, Elizabeth also figured out what would make her pupil begin to laugh, and the more he relaxed the more he gave her. They became a great team, and a genuine friendship was beginning to form between the two.

***

Over the next few weeks, Henry and Elizabeth would continue their lessons. Over one lunch with his friends, the actor spent more than half of their time together telling the group of the instructor. He couldn’t stop himself from singing her praises. When someone suggested that he was developing a crush on her, he laughed to himself and denied it.

“Come on, Hank, you keep telling us how funny and cute she is. When you are done working together, ask her out.” Jillian suggested.

Jillian’s husband Jeremy asked Henry to describe the woman he had been talking about.

“Short, curly hair, she has some pink streaks in her hair, brown eyes, she kind of looks a little like a sort of retro pin-up model. She has a tattoo of flowers on her rib cage. I think she’s pretty.”

“American you said?”

“Yeah, from Southern California.”

“Huh, how about that.” Jeremy said vaguely. The questions seemed a little out of character for him but maybe he was actually interested in who she was. Henry tried not to overthink it, but it sat wrong with him the rest of the day.

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut

32 notes · View notes

byunsboyz · 5 years ago

Text

Jamais Vu - Part One

Exo Fanfiction

Baekhyun x Female Reader

Warnings: some light swears.

Genre: Fluff/Angst?

W/C: 2560

Part Two Part Three

_____________________________________________________________

Everybody has that ‘what if’. The one who got away....not quite regret, but thoughts that would drift by late at night when insomnia has set in and you’re deep into your latest existential crisis.

What if things had been different? What if you had said what had been on the tip of your tongue that day?

Byun Baekhyun was your what if.

He had been your best friend in college and the only person you had truly loved.

You had no reason to run into Byun Baekhyun. You didn’t share classes. You an Accounting major and him Architecture.

You didn’t run in the same social circles, he was part of a frat house and you opted to remain in dorms with your small group of friends.

But what had brought you together was music, meeting in your second year while working at the campus radio station.

You had applied for the role of Production Director on a whim, looking for a hobby outside of classes and studying and also benefited from the extra credit of managing the finances of the small college club.

The first time you met you were positive you’d never understand him. After all, you were complete opposites. He was loud and outgoing; always the centre of jokes and a far cry the quiet loner you were perceived to be.

But from the first show you ran with him, he has surprised you. Baekhyun was the On-Air Presenter for the Sunday night Jazz & Blues segment and as soon as the light would turn red he’d take on a completely different persona.

His voice would become soft and melodic as he’d whisper sweet nothings into the microphone about the classics of Miles Davies and Frank Sinatra.

You’d often be on the same late-night shift together; downing coffee after coffee, discussing your favourite artists and organising records until the early hours.

He wasn’t exhausting like the rest of your extroverted friends, his presence giving you a warm sense of comfort.

Without noticing you became joined at the hip for the rest of your college days.

Not to the point that you were a regular at his crazy frat parties but you’d hang out at the radio station, would marathon movie after movie at each other’s dorms on the weekends and crammed for all your major test’s together.

You hadn’t even realised you were in love with him until you’d just graduated, you even had the crazy idea to confess.

Then the news broke that he was moving to a different country.

He had been in two minds on whether to go. You’d always talked about living and working in the same city and he’d been concerned about you being alone and him going back on his promise.

Honestly. Who achieves their dream job at a globally famous architecture firm and worries about their dumb friend during the happiest moment of their life?!

You remembered that day vividly.

‘“Of course you should go! It’s your dream, Baek” you forced the enthusiasm into your voice.

Inside, you could feel your heart tearing at the seams. You weren’t selfish enough to show him just how much you would miss him, as much as you had wanted to.

He was always too considerate of your feelings.

This wasn’t some Rom-Com TV show, where Baekhyun would suddenly declare he couldn’t live without you. He wasn’t like Rachel choosing not to get on the plan for Ross.

You’d cried so hard the night he’d left. Almost texting the words you’d be aching to tell him for the last three years.

‘I am in love with you’.

But the alcohol had knocked you out before you could hit send.

He’d promised to keep in touch but over the years you drifted. As life and work became more and more hectic it devolved from video chatting on the weekends, to texting occasionally.

Fading into receiving a generic happy birthday post on social media and then nothing at all.

You’d pushed him to the back of your mind as you told yourself over and over that this is what happens as you get older.

And with that ten years had passed.

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

You wake with a start. Back aching from where you’d fallen asleep in an awkward position while watching a random ASMR video the night prior.

*Clatter*

Your sleep-filled eyes search the room, trying to locate the source of the noise.

*Thud Thud Thud*

It appears to be coming through the wall behind your headboard.

Could someone be moving into the apartment next door? It’s been entirely empty the whole time you’ve been living here, about seven months now.

You've enjoyed the quiet solace of not having to share the walls with another person. Especially being one of the only two apartments on the upper floor, it was one of the reasons you love your apartment.

It’s also located near the subway and tucked far back enough on the outskirts of the city that it’s almost peaceful. There’s also a small cafe bar and a couple of small stores that remind you of the town where you grew up.

*Bang*

You groan again at the loud noises as you stretch your arms over your head and wonder about the people moving in next door.

Maybe a couple? Or a young family. It could even be a cute guy. You snort at the thought. Yeah right. What kind of a psycho moves into an apartment in the early morning anyway?!

You reach under your pillow for your phone to check the time. 8:30 am! SHIT. You overslept and if you don’t leave your apartment in the next ten minutes you’ll miss your train to work!

With no time for a shower, you rush to your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

As you drag a brush through your hair and pull it up into a simple, neat ponytail you start forming a contingency plan…

‘Skip the usual to-go coffee at Dunkin’ and settle for the instant stuff at work’ you think to yourself, ‘As soon as I get to work, throw on some BB cream and mascara with the time I’ll gain abandoning my daily vanilla latte with coconut milk…’.

You sniff sadly at the thought as you step into one of your tailored dresses, fumbling with the awkward zipper in the back.

Within 10 minutes you’re flying out the door and straight into the elevator. Using the short amount of time to button up your sweater and glance through your bag to check that you’ve got everything you’ll need for the day.

You’re in your own thoughts as you stride towards the lobby doors, and almost walk straight into your building manager.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr Sato!” you gasp in surprise.

“Good morning!” he smiles obliviously, not realising that you almost knocked him flying. You move to step around him as he continues. “There’s a package of yours with Ralph” (the doorman) “and I also wanted to let you know about a new tenant moving into the place next to yours...”

“Uh-huh, of course, that’s great!” You cut him off, waving your hands apologetically “I am so sorry. Please excuse me, I’m late for work!” you call out behind you as you make a mad dash out of the building to the subway station.

You make your train by the skin of your teeth, panting from the final sprint from the ticket gate to the platform. Feeling glad you skipped the makeup as you would have surely sweat a good portion of it off by now.

You currently work for a large accountancy firm Kim & Partners. You could have worked within a finance department of any company as most qualified accountants tend to do but you love the challenges and variety of working with different industries and clients every day.

You manage a small team of four and specialise in bookkeeping for small to medium enterprise, one of the smaller departments in the company but you have a pretty large client base and enjoy the satisfaction of helping others and providing a clear and efficient service.

“We are transferring you to manage corporate accounts,” your boss Mr Kim announces in the morning management meeting. You feel like someones just pulled a step from beneath your footing.

You were aware that your manager Mr Choi had wanted to transfer you out to provide more specialised management accountancy for larger corporate clients but so far you’d been convincing enough from the commission and reputation you’ve built for Kim & Partners to be able to continue as you were.

“Uh, thank you for the opportunity, Mr Kim, I-” you begin shakily, looking for the words or a reason to decline the transfer.

“Fantastic! You’ll handover to Jaehyun for the rest of today and you’ll start in corporate accounting tomorrow!” your boss claps his hands together enthusiastically and with that you chicken out of any further protest and nod your head.

Jaehyun is your second in command and honestly, he really deserves this promotion. You couldn’t think of someone more diligent and detail-oriented.

The rest of your day is uneventful. The handover goes incredibly smoothly despite a very surprised Jaehyun but the more things are explained, the more you realise that this progression will be good for everyone.

You’ll still oversee Jaehyun and his team but allow him more room to make decisions and develop while you work on the larger corporate accounts that keep your company in business.

There was even a hint at the opportunity to become a junior partner, which by your calculations would make you one of the youngest in the company.

You leave work feeling excited, passing up on celebratory drinks with your (old) team so that they can have more fun without their boss present.

“COME ONNNN” Hani, your junior accounts clerk had whined when you announced that you wouldn't be joining “You’re not a regular boss, you’re a COOL boss!”.

You appreciate the sentiment but everyone likes to complain about work and management when they drink and you wouldn't like to take that away from them.

You sit on the train heading back to your apartment feeling optimistic, texting your best friend Aria about the day and making plans for your own celebratory drinks.

You’re walking through the lobby of your apartment building, heading towards Ralph’s desk to collect the package Mr Sato mentioned this morning. Probably the new nutribullet you’d ordered while drunk Amazon shopping a couple of weeks back.

Normally you’d cancel the delivery but drunk you was really onto something this time. You giggle at a dumb vine quote Aria sends you and as you finish typing up your response-

THWACK! You hit a wall, falling ungracefully backwards onto your butt.

You grunt as the air gets knocked out of you when you make contact with rough carpet of the lobby.

“Seriously!” another voice snaps you back to reality as you realise you didn’t walk into a wall but another person.

A now very annoyed person, carrying what you assume was their groceries as you glance over at the produce and cans rolling around on the floor between you.

“I- oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” you stammer as you scramble to your knees and start frantically picking up some of the items in front of you. A can of beans, a bag of pasta and a lone orange trying to make its escape.

“I wasn’t even looking, I promise I’ll pay for anything dama-”, You begin as you look up, expecting to see Mr Sato or one of the other tenants of the building.

The rest of your sentence dies in the back of your throat.

“Baekhyun?...”

His name leaves your lips as a whisper, heart thumping against your chest as you almost drop the items in your hands.

He’s not looking in your direction, you hear him grumble something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as he scoops the remainder of his groceries into a battered paper bag.

Is it really him? Did you hit your head and you’re actually unconscious and hallucinating about a guy you used to know and haven’t seen in ten years?

It sure looks like him. A few extra lines crease his forehead, his hair is a darker shade of chocolate than you remember with a few flecks of silver glinting at the centre of his parting.

You glance to his left hand searching for the mole that sits beneath his thumbnail but it’s not there. Maybe it was on his right hand?

He finally looks up as if finally registering that you’re kneeling on the floor next to him, his lips part slightly in surprise as he looks you over. A tiny mole sits just above the corner of his upper lip. It really is him!

Before your mind has time to catch up you’re throwing your arms around him, allowing your excitement to overtake all of your other senses. You feel him instantly tense up.

“H-hey!” he shouts, pushing you off him abruptly. “What the hell are you doing!”

You shoot to your feet, shaken by the sharpness of his tone you take a step back to create some space. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. His eyes look you over but there’s no familiarity in them, they’re so cold you almost shiver.

He takes a step towards you, “How do you know my name?” his tone sharp and accusing, “Are you some kind of stalker?”.

Your cheeks start to burn as the realisation set’s in that Baekhyun has no idea who you are. You struggle to swallow the lump forming in your throat as you search for a response. Words seem to fail you right now.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” you hear the worried voice of Mr Sato, by the time you remember to blink he’s already standing between the two of you. You look up at him, dumbstruck as you fight back the sharp prickles in the corner of your eyes.

He looks back and forth between you and Baekhyun, trying to piece together what has taken place. You realise you’re still holding Baekhyun’s groceries, practically hugging the bag of pasta to your chest and your cheeks burn even hotter.

You hear your name spoken again but it’s not Mr Sato’s voice this time, and you don’t have the nerve to look at Baekhyun again.

So you do the only thing you can think of and thrust the items you're holding at Mr Sato. Run as fast as you can to the stairwell, and find the nearest hole to jump into, aka your apartment.

Your knees ache as you force yourself up each flight. You can’t even remember the last time you used the stairwell and when you finally reach the threshold of your apartment you collapse against the door.

What on earth were you thinking?

What gave you the right to assume anyone would recognise you after ten years?

What was he even doing here? As that final thought crosses your mind someone knocks at your door.

You jump at the abrupt noise, chest still tight from the anxiety (or the running). But there’s no way you’re answering the door.

Your legs still feel like jelly and you really fear that Mr Sato has come to scold you or worse Baekhyun has followed you.

But he wouldn’t know which apartment you lived in. Would he?

You pull yourself to your feet and glance through the peephole.

You watch as Baekhyun turns away from your front door and disappears towards the next apartment.

No way.

*Slam*

Shit.

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun series #baekhyun drabble #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo onehsot #exo imagine #exo drabble #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #exo fluff #exo angst

178 notes · View notes

imagining-supernatural · 5 years ago

Text

The Work Call

Part 18 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You call your boss to get some work to do in your free time and do a little flirting ;)

Word Count: 2,258

With Sebastian off in Georgia for a week, you felt like a teenager whose parents just left her home for alone for the first time. Suddenly, you could break all of the rules. Not that your rule-breaking was something that would get you in too much trouble…

Since the press seemed to have gotten it through their heads that you were off limits, you finally had your privacy and space back again. As a result, you were taking advantage of the last few weeks of autumn before the snow came. After your hospital appointments, you walked down the street to a cute little café and sat in one of the over-sized, plush chairs for a bit. You’d either bring a book or your laptop.

On Wednesday, the café cat apparently decided you were okay and hopped up into your lap, purring loudly as you read. You’d snapped a quick selfie and sent it off to Sebastian.

Me: [image attached] Don’t be surprised if you come home this weekend and I’ve catnapped ol’ Misty here

Sebastian: What if I’m allergic to cats?

Me: Sucks to be you, I guess

Me: The apartment’s lonely without you

You stared at the last text you’d sent, suddenly overthinking it. Sure, you were married. And, sure, you were wearing his ring now. But you two hadn’t really discussed what that meant, exactly. So was that last text too strong? Too forward?

Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d meant by it.

Sebastian: Don’t know how I feel about being able to be replaced by a cat

Sebastian: Maybe I need to up my game

Up his game?

Shit, it had been so long since you’d flirted with anyone. So long since you’d even considered a relationship. After your hellish life growing up, you’d put all of your focus into school. You were determined to set yourself up for a better life than the one you were born into. Then you graduated and worked hard to secure your place at your job. School only taught you so much, and you needed to be able to apply what you learned to real life.

Once you felt secure in your professional life and you were finally ready to start exploring a relationship, you found out you had cancer.

So to say you were woefully underprepared for this situation would be the understatement of the year.

Me: Luckily for you, I like Jenny’s coffee so much that I don’t want her to hate me for stealing her cat

Sebastian: You still thought a cat would replace me

Sebastian: That hurts, sweetheart

Sweetheart. In writing.

Me: I’ll find some way to make you feel better this weekend

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Why did you never read over your texts before you sent them?

At least you hadn’t put a winky face emoji. Now that would have been a disaster.

Not that you didn’t want your relationship with Sebastian to keep going. You did. But there was a lot more pressure riding on this than there was back in high school when you went to the prom with Brad Trayton, or in college when you slept with the guy from your Chemistry 101 lab three times before having to break it off with him because he always smelled like bacon.

This was Sebastian Fucking Stan. And you were married to the guy. And you were in a literal life or death situation. If things went badly with him, that would make the rest of your cancer treatment very awkward, to say the least.

Sebastian: I’m sure you will…

Sebastian: I gotta go to a script reading rn. Skype tonight?

Me: Of course

You’d been Skyping with Seb at least twice a day since he left on Sunday night. It was almost like he never left, in that regard.

But with him gone, you found that you had a lot of free time on your hands. With your body starting to get used to the cancer treatment, you also had a bit more energy and nowhere to put that energy to good use.

So you called your old boss back home, dialing his direct extension to avoid getting his assistant. The press might have backed off, but thanks to the updates from Jasmin, people who knew you were still reeling over your marriage.

“Plathway.”

“Hey, Brendon, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, and you could just imagine him leaning back in his chair. Brendon Plathway was your mentor and had grown into a close friend. Of everyone in your life, you would say he was the closest thing to a good father figure you had. “How are you doing? I’ve seen your name on Facebook a few times.”

“I’m doing pretty good, all things considered. I’m in a clinical study in New York and the doctors are optimistic that it’ll work. They’re hoping I’ll get the tumor out sometime in February.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Brendon said. “And that husband of yours… he treating you well?”

“It’s not… it’s not quite like that. But yeah. He’s great.” It was a pretty decent segue into the reason for your call. “He’s actually out of town, shooting for a TV show. So I have a bit of time on my hands and was hoping—”

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

The unfamiliar voice interrupted you before you could finish. You looked up to see a guy about your age with a newsboy bag, notebook, and tape recorder.

A fucking journalist.

“I thought it was you. You mind if I ask you a few questions?” He didn’t say it like a question, nor did he give you time to respond before he sat on a stool beside you and set up shop on the small table. “If I could write an article on you, it would just—”

“I’m actually on a phone call right now.”

“Oh, I won’t take too long. I just can’t pass up this opportunity. You’re quite the enigma. No one’s gotten your side of the story.”

“And neither will you. I’m not going to answer any questions.”

He completely ignored you, flicked on the recorder, and put his pen to paper. “People have been saying that you planned your rendezvous with Sebastian Stan in Vegas. What do you say to that?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no comment for you.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the chance to get your story out there. There are some nasty rumors spreading—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “I know my story and the people I care about know my story. I will not be answering any questions for you today.”

“Do you feel no guilt for being the reason Sebastian Stan’s reputation has taken a massive hit?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance to leave me the fuck alone before I call the cops.” He opened his mouth, but you spoke over him, voice lowering to a red-hot hiss. “And if you write a single word of this conversation or make any sort of insinuations that I said anything at all, I will slap you and whatever blog or magazine you work for with a libel lawsuit. Don’t even think about trying to manipulate your recording because you’re not the only one who has been recording this conversation. The phone call you interrupted was with my boss and it’s company policy to record all incoming and outgoing phone calls. He’s a witness that I repeatedly rejected your attempt to start an interview and anything else you say can be construed as harassment. Have I made myself clear?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. Guess he hadn’t expected a cancer patient to be so blunt. Nevertheless, he gathered his things and stood. Just before walking away, he muttered, “You didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

Once he was gone, you groaned. “Sorry about that, Bren.”

“Is that something you have to deal with often? That’s horrible.”

“No. Not since I got sick because stupid reporters were sticking their germy microphones in my face and Seb threatened them with lawyers.”

Brendon hmphed. “Well, you sounded like you had that speech prepared. Sounded like you’d said it a few times.”

“Before he left, Seb made sure I knew how to threaten any reporters like that. Luckily this was the first time I’ve had to remember what he told me.” The reporter had shaken you, and it took a few deep breaths before you felt calm enough to continue with your conversation. “Anyway, back to my original reason for calling… Are there are projects I could jump on long distance? I’ll probably only be able to put in about ten to fifteen good hours of work a week, but it’d be nice to have something to do other than wait for new episodes of my shows to come on Hulu.”

“Let me poke around the office a bit. I know there’s a big one coming up next week. Rachel’s heading that one. You’ve worked with her before right? She’d probably appreciate your input. Trent is in the middle of one for a pharmaceutical company, but he’s not feeling too sure about it. I’ll see if he wants you to try and hack the system and find holes.”

“Anything. I’ve worked with both of them before and I think we work well together. I did quite a few initial proposals before I left for Vegas and I enjoyed those more than most people do.”

He promised he’d send any projects your way that he could. After a few more minutes of catching up, you ended the call and headed outside to wait for Sean in the chilly fall air.

“How was the reading?” you asked later that night. “Any juicy plot lines?”

“Not that I can tell you,” Seb replied. The phone in his hand shifted as he settled further into the hotel bed that Marvel was putting him up in. “But it was good. We’ll start shooting tomorrow.”

“Excited to lube up your arm?”

He laughed, head falling back against the headboard. “I take it you finally did some research on me?”

“A little. The hospital was running behind today, so I was there a bit longer than I planned and I fell down the YouTube abyss of interviews. Anthony seems like a fun guy to work with.”

Sebastian grinned. “He is. Speaking of work, did you call your boss?”

“Yeah.” The reminder of the phone call – or rather of the interruption – made your roll your eyes.

“Didn’t go well?”

“No, no. It did.” You knew your news was not going to go over well with Seb, so you took a minute to get settled into the bed. It had been a long day and laying down felt good. You turned your laptop on its side so your face would still be the right way on Seb’s phone. “Brendon’s gonna check around work and find some projects and work to throw my way. That’s all good.”

“Then what is it?”

With a deep sigh, you began. “While I was on the phone with him, some hipster reporter dude interrupted.”

“Son of a—”

“It took a minute to get it through his thick skull that I was not going to give him a story but he finally left. It just kinda took a bit out of me.”

“God, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” you agreed softly. “But you prepared me. I handled it. Then Sean made me eat dinner with him and his wife. She’s an amazing cook. Sometime when you’re home, they want to have both of us over. And when this is all over, we definitely need to think of a hell of a way to thank him for everything. He’s done so much more than a driver gets paid to.”

The two of you brainstormed for a bit about how to repay Sean for his kindness and friendship. Then your conversation moved on to different subjects, bouncing around for a bit until you yawned for the third time in five minutes.

“You seem more tired than usual. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I haven’t been sleeping well, but that’s your fault.”

“My fault?” he asked.

“Yeah. You made me sleep next to you for two weeks then you just up and leave me alone. It’s rude, Mr. Stan.”

Something in your words sparked something in his eyes that filled you with… excitement?

“Well, Mrs. Stan…” His words were accompanied by a wink that stopped your heart. Forget your brain tumor. Sebastian was going to be the source of your death. “You only have two more nights before I’m home for the weekend.”

Flirting? Were you flirting?

“Two nights with you and five nights without you is just not a fraction I like.”

My god, you were flirting.

“If you can convince Marvel to move their studios to New York, I’m all game. Until then, we’ll have to make the best of those two nights.”

“Make the best of them, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “Mackie’s commentary on The Voice isn’t as good as yours. I’ve been waiting to watch the new episodes until I’m with you.”

The unexpected twist made you laugh out loud. It didn’t escape your attention how his eyes crinkled at the sound, affection flooding his expression. “The Voice on Friday and Dancing With The Stars on Saturday?”

“I’ll pen it in my calendar, sweetheart.”

“Ooo. I’m pen-worthy. That’s so much better than pencil-worthy.”

“You’re white-out-worthy, baby. I’d white-out plans I have with someone else to pen in plans with you.”

Fucking hell. Baby was a new one.

If he’d put on half this much charm on you in Vegas when you were drunk, it was no wonder you’d married him.

“Then I guess I need to go erase the pencil plans I had for Saturday evening and make room for you. Maybe even buy a special pen just for you.”

“Maybe wait for tomorrow? You’ve had a long day. Seems like you need a good night’s rest.”

“You too, hun.” The pet name felt foreign on your tongue, but it somehow felt… right? “Shooting starts tomorrow. You need to be ready to keep up with Mackie’s energy.”

“He wants to meet’cha, you know. Apparently I haven’t shut up about you.’

“Gimme a few more weeks to get used to this treatment and maybe I can spend more than three seconds around him without needing a nap,” you joked. “Unless he only has that energy when there’s a camera on him…?”

Seb laughed. “That is him all the damn time.”

“Then I better let you go for the night. You’ve spent the last few weeks shlumping around with me. Gotta get your rest to keep up with him tomorrow.”

“And you gotta get your rest so you can hand out candy tomorrow.”

“I’m excited for that, actually. Trick or Treating really slowed down back in Utah lately. I think last year I got, like, maybe three groups of kids?”

“You’ll get your fill this year. A lot of the kids in the apartment complex go to every door. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.”

It took twenty more minutes before you were finally able to say your goodbyes and hang up. You stared at your phone for a moment before placing it on the side table beside Sebastian’s bed and turning off the light.

Houston, we've got some flirting!!! Also can we just take a minute to appreciate how amazing Sean is? But things seem to be looking up!

CHAPTER 19: THE LONG DAY

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #fluff

169 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

And For Once, You Let Go (Jankie) - Mumu

A/N: For @aqpippin as part of @atresia ’s song fic exchange! The song was You Are In Love - Taylor Swift. Also on AO3.

Summary: Jan wants to give Jackie the fairy tale confession she deserves.

Morning, her place

Burnt toast, Sunday

The first time Jan feels it, it leaves her breathless. It comes quietly, and once it dawns on her, something changes in the air. She can’t get rid of it. Perhaps she’s known for a while, or perhaps this is a cumulation of brief moments. Jan doesn’t know. She doesn’t know much, except for the fact that the feeling lodges itself in her throat, pulsing when she looks at Jackie.

She’s in love.

Jackie’s in the shower, and Jan’s sprawled out on the bed. As far as routine goes, everything is perfectly normal.

On Sundays, Jan closes the bakery for the day. She moves languidly, takes her time waking up. Some days they sleep in so late they skip lunch altogether, and they take turns making dinner.

Jackie has introduced Jan to so many Persian dishes from her childhood since she’s moved in, and learning how to make new dishes is something Jan looks forward to. She’s always in awe of how Jackie is so at home in the kitchen, how she somehow knows exactly how much nutmeg to sprinkle on lamb or how much vinegar to pickle the garlic cloves in without measuring anything out.

Today it’s Jackie’s turn again. She’s laid out all her ingredients already, an array of spices set out on the kitchen counter that promise a delicious meal.

For now, though, the sound of running water is steady, and Jan takes comfort in the sound.

In the beginning, when Jackie had first suggested they move in together, Jan had been scared out of her mind.

Dating was good. Dating was fine, comfortable even. She got to spend just enough time with Jackie to ensure her ball-of-sunshine energy didn’t slip or dim. That’s what everybody loved her for, anyway: her optimistic, bright personality. Even Jackie had told her that was what drew her to Jan.

But moving in together? She’d be around Jackie 24/7 then. Jan knew it wouldn’t be possible to keep that energy up all the time. Besides, even the people closest to Jan, like her mom or her friends, had at one point or another asked if she could tone it down just for a second, Jan, please .

Jan knew she had a tendency to be too much. She was too loud in the morning, too clingy with those she loved, too childish when she was sick.

Moving in with Jackie was a real commitment, a part of herself she wasn’t sure if she was ready to share. Jackie had always been patient with her, giving her the time and space to feel comfortable. But moving in was also something she was dead set on, and well, once Jackie got an idea into her head, it was impossible to talk her out of it.

Jan still wasn’t budging, so she’d done it sneakily. It started with staying over at Jan’s for sleepovers. They’d watch movies and Jackie would mix up some face masks, slathering it on their cheeks with the back of the spoon or their fingers. Jan would bake cookies, and they’d stay up all night talking like they were little kids.

At some point a night over became two, then three, until Jackie’s stuff had a designated spot in Jan’s closet. Her coffee mugs had found a home in Jan’s cupboards. It became routine for Jackie to drop by, even when Jan wasn’t home. Eventually, Jan had to put aside her fears and admit that Jackie should just move in.

And at the end of it all, when the last of Jan’s stuff had been packed into cardboard boxes and carried into Jackie’s apartment, Jan didn’t feel scared anymore.

How could she be, when Jackie was so good to her? She was always so gentle and made Jan feel so safe in her company.

“ Moosh moosh-am ?” Jackie calls.

Jan hides a smile at the pet name.

She’d tried to ask Jackie what it meant once, but Jackie had gotten all flustered, so she dropped it. A quick google search had translated it for her, anyways, so now she’s content with pretending not to understand to ensure Jackie keeps using it.

“Are you still there?” Jackie leans out of the bathroom, still tugging the hem of her shirt over her chest. Her hair’s wrapped in a towel, but a few brown strands have already slipped out and drip water onto her shoulders.

“Hmm?” Jan hums. She flops over on the bed, hangs her head over the edge. “You look pretty upside-down-sie.”

“You’re such a softy,” Jackie says with a slight roll of her eyes. She leans against the doorframe, fixing a warm gaze on her girlfriend. “Can you take the dough out of the fridge, please? It has to sit for thirty.”

“Putting me to work already, huh?” Jan asks, popping her gum.

Jackie doesn’t respond, just raises an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Jan groans dramatically and heaves herself into a sitting position on the bed with a groan. “But you know I’m only doing it ‘cause I lo-”

The words get stuck in her throat. Jan inhales too abruptly, chokes on her spit. She coughs, rolling off the bed to land on her feet again.

“Shit, you good?” Jackie scrambles over to pound her on the back. “Don’t go upside down while chewing gum like that, you’ll choke.”

“No, yeah. I’m fine, I’m fine.” Jan recovers, still flustered. “Must have- y’know. Inhaled dust or something. I’ll go get that dough.”

She stands and shuffles over to the kitchen, stiffly going through the motions. The inside of her mouth tastes sticky despite the minty gum, and her hands are shaking slightly as she pulls out the saran wrapped dough.

What the hell was that? Jan’s heart pounds in her ears. She stares at the mound of dough with wide eyes, panic coursing through her.

“Thank you.” Jackie drags out the words, coming up behind her. She wraps her arms around Jan’s waist, nestles her chin into her shoulder.

Jan jumps at the sound of Jackie’s voice in her ear, taking a sharp inhale out of surprise.

“So jumpy today.” Jackie murmurs. She untangles herself from around Jan, putting her hands on her hips. “Alright, let’s get started then.”

Good. Okay. Jan blinks, tries to steady herself. It’s just the late-June heat getting to her, that’s all.

She pours herself some water and drinks it, trying to wash down the strange feeling rattling around in her ribcage.

One step, not much, but it said enough

Jan calls Gigi up the next day, first thing in the morning with the taste of her almost-confession still on her tongue.

Gigi agrees to breakfast straight away, no questions asked. It’s like the other girl can hear the urgency in Jan’s voice, the little tremor when she says it’s about her and Jackie. Whatever the reason, Jan’s grateful for how quickly she says yes.

Surprisingly, Gigi doesn’t bombard Jan with questions the second she slides into their booth at the restaurant. It’s a cute little place– a diner they frequent often– and ordering takes virtually no time at all as they both rattle out their usuals. She’s grateful for the grace period.

Jan’s halfway through her pancakes when Gigi finally cuts off her casual rambling.

“So did you and Jackie, like, end things? Cause, no offence, but I’ll literally kill you. You guys are perfect for each other.” She tears a croissant into half and poses the question around a mouthful.

“What?” Jan sputters out a shocked laugh. Her voice is a little too loud and she winces, tries again. “Absolutely not, where’d you get that from?”

“Babes, you called me all panicked and told me you had to talk to me,” Gigi says slowly. “About you and her.”

“Oh,” Jan says. She pushes a bite of blueberry pancake into the puddle of maple syrup that’s collected on her plate. “Oh, yeah. That does sound bad, doesn’t it.”

“Duh,” Gigi laughs. She pauses, taking a sip of her iced tea. “So if nothing’s going bad , then what’s the problem?”

And there it is. Jan clicks her tongue and drums her nails on the table, stalling as she tries to think of how to phrase her next sentence.

“I almost said I loved her yesterday.”

Gigi beams at that news- “Wait, are you kidding? That’s great!” -before collecting herself. She leans in, less excited after realizing the worry Jan said it with.

“Wait, I don’t get it. You do love her right?”

“Have you and Crystal said it yet?” Jan deflects, asking another question instead of answering.

“I mean, yeah. Like two weeks ago now, I think.” Gigi shrugs.

“How did you know when to say it?”

“I don’t know. It just felt right?” Gigi pops a chunk of pastry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Jackie nods like she understands, tapping her fork against her bottom lip. She casts around for an excuse for why it isn’t as easy for her as it seems to have been for Gigi and Crystal. There must be one. She’s not crazy, right?

“I feel like what we have now is really great. I don’t want to scare her off by saying anything stupid.”

“Jan, Jackie is totally head-over-heels in love with you. There’s no way that’ll do anything but bring you two closer.” Gigi rebuts, unconvinced.

Jan just hums, not trusting herself to speak. Her voice has frozen in her throat, and that’s not a factor she wants to deal with while she’s talking to Gigi, who picks up on everything.

“I think I know what your problem is,” Gigi says bluntly. She drains the last of her iced tea, before setting it down on the table and declaring with finality, “You’re worried about making it perfect like you always do.”

Jan cuts at her food to give her hands something to do.

“You watch too many romcoms. You’re putting this crazy pressure on yourself to, like, measure up to Hollywood scripts. But that’s not real life, y’know?”

Jan bites at the inside of her cheek, the taste of metal blooming in her mouth.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, that’s the point of it,” Gigi continues. She stops, notices that Jan’s attention isn’t totally on her.

“Jannifer-” She takes the knife and fork from Jan’s hands. “-Quit murdering that pancake and listen, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry, doll.” Jackie clears her throat and wipes her fingers clean on a napkin, still not meeting Gigi’s gaze.

“Do you love Jackie?”

The way she says it, it’s not really a question but more of a statement for Jan to agree to. Even phrased like that to make it easy for her, Jan still isn’t sure she’s ready to speak it into reality. Her eyes dart, feeling like everyone in the restaurant is listening in on their discussion.

“Jan?” Gigi prompts.

“I’m- I, um, need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.” Jan stands up, nearly knocking her drink into her lap at the sheer force of it. Her chair scrapes against the floor, too loud for her liking, and she practically sprints into the restroom.

She presses her palms flat on the marble countertop. The cold surface against her skin is enough to scramble her already overstimulated mind, and Jan forces a breath in through her nose, tears prickling behind her eyelids.

Why can’t she do it? Jackie deserves the world, as far as she’s concerned, and yet Jan can’t even put her feelings into words for her.

Jackie’s going to get tired of waiting for her to grow the hell up and say what’s on her mind. And when she does, Jan will have fucked up yet another thing she loves, because that’s what she does best.

Once the idea of Jackie leaving her takes root she can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop imagining scenarios. When it happens, Jackie might scream, or yell, or cry. She might go silent, start icing Jan out until there’s nothing left to keep them together. Either way, she’ll end up all alone again, and her apartment will feel twice as big because she’s gotten used to the warmth of Jackie’s presence.

There’s a spark of anger too, as irrational as it is, that tears through her at the realization that Jackie’s the reason she caved in. If it were up to her, she’d have kept Jackie at arms length, perfectly safe, where she can’t be harmed by Jan’s inability to be a proper adult in a proper adult relationship.

At some point she ends up on the floor, back pressed against the counter, and now she stays like that, curling her torso closer into her knees. Jan hears the door open, and a panicked sounding ohmygod from Gigi.

“Jan, honey, it’s okay.” Gigi sits down next to her. “Take deep breaths for me.”

Jan heaves a breath in and out through her mouth. “Sorry, I- god, I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Gigi says. She works her fingers into Jan’s hair, braiding little sections in a calming fashion.

“Relationships are hard. The first time Crystal kissed me I, like, totally freaked out and ghosted her for a few days. Major dick move, don’t recommend.”

Jan laughs despite herself at that. She rests her head back against the counter and looks up at the ceiling.

“Do you think it’ll get easier?”

It’s quiet for a few moments, the hum of the electric lights keeping them company. Jan’s pretty sure Gigi has forgotten about the question or isn’t going to answer her when she speaks again.

“I think,” Gigi bites her lip, considering her words carefully. “I think you’ll get used to trusting someone that much. I don’t know if it’ll be easy, but it’s a process.”

More silence. Jan tongues her teeth, feeling the smooth enamel, unsure whether or not to speak.

“We just have to trust it?” Jan says. The question hangs in the air, drawing a noise of agreement out of Gigi.

“Do you know what Jackie said to me after we moved in together?” Jan asks, before ploughing on, not waiting for an answer. “She told me, just because you’re independent doesn’t mean you have to do it on your own all the time.”

Gigi still doesn’t speak, just lets Jan talk.

“And I think- no, I know she’s right. But it’s still weird, y’know? She’s so good to me and I want to do that for her.”

There’s a pause. “I don’t know why I can’t.”

“Don’t rush yourself because you think she deserves it, hun. That’s not fair to either one of you.” Gigi says.

Jan just sighs, makes a little hum of acknowledgement.

“Yeah. This was so much easier in the movies.”

Gigi snorts, shoving Jan with her shoulder. “That’s what you get for watching those heterosexual pieces of trash all the time. Unrealistic expectations.”

And Jan lets her say it, doesn’t throw back a jab about how if anything is disgustingly cheesy it’s Gigi and Crystal’s pet names they have for one another, because she knows this is Gigi trying to help her through her feelings.

“Let’s finish our food before they think we dined and dashed,” Jan says simply, and considers that growth.

You can hear it in the silence,

You can feel it on the way home

Over the next few months, Jan tries to say I love you many times. It never comes out smoothly.

The feeling isn’t so daunting now that she’s been living with it for a while. It’s a companion, a constant rattling in her ribcage that gets stronger and louder every time Jackie leaves a sticky note with a smiley face on the lunch she takes to the bakery.

She practices saying I love you to the mirror in her room, fascinated with the way the words sound and the way her mouth moves to shape them.

Some days she gets scared that she’ll never be able to voice it, that it’ll be trapped inside her throat with nowhere to go and no place to call home forever. On those days she sits for hours on the balcony while Jackie sleeps, just watching the city go by.

These things take time, Gigi had said, so give them time .

Be patient with yourself, her mom tells her, when Jan calls her up. You’ll get there .

Jan repeats those words of advice so often they seem to become part of her, swirling in her bones and in her blood. She imagines they float around her like an aura as she moves through the days, folding into her cake batter along with the butter and sugar. Trusting that when it’s right, she’ll know.

And you understand now,

Why they lost their minds and fought those wars

Today, Jackie’s come in to help Jan out in the bakery. It’s holiday season now, which means more customers and more work. Jackie’s already found an easy rhythm working the cash register, greeting guests with a warm smile and comforting air. Jan feels like everything in her life is coming together in the best way, wrapped up in a pretty bow.

She pulls a fresh ray of lemon cookies from the oven, setting it on the rack to cool. Jackie immediately leans over, trying to swipe a cookie under the guise of kissing the powdered sugar off of Jan’s lips.

“I saw that, Jacqueline,” Jan scolds, tapping Jackie’s wrist in an attempt to get her to drop it. Jackie takes a big bite anyways, trying to chew through the pain when it scalds her mouth. Jan laughs in response. “That’s what you get for stealing.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Jan,” Jackie teases. She offers the other half of the cookie to Jan, who takes it from her.

“For someone that used to track all our expenses, you’ve become quite lenient with eating the profits away lately,” Jan bumps Jackie’s hip with her own, turning to hide a smile as she pops the remainder of the cookie into her mouth.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me,” Jackie replies.

“Hmm.” Jan hums. She catches Jackie trying to swipe another cookie out of the corner of her eye and pulls the rack away from her girlfriend before it happens. “Ah-uh. I don’t think so.”

Jackie pouts, wiggling her fingers at the rack. “Jan, it’s just one, please?”

“Sorry, can’t let you eat them all.” Jan doesn’t even spare a second glance at Jackie, turning back to whipping up another bowl of batter. “Go back to the register. We can have the leftovers after closing.”

“I can’t believe I’m being bullied,” Jackie whines. She does as she’s told though, trudging back to her spot at the counter.

Jan bustles over to the coffee machines, pressing a few buttons. “Shut up, you know I love you.”

It rolls off her tongue light and airy, just like her cookies, but the aftertaste catches in her throat regardless.

Jan stills, pausing with her hands over the coffee machine. Nothing in the atmosphere has changed, the air still warm and easy, the lingering taste of lemon still full bloom on her taste buds. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, scared to look at Jackie.

“Do you-” Jackie comes over again, hovering around Jan, unsure of where to put her hands. “-Do you want to say that again or did I hear you wrong?”

Do you think it’ll get easier? That was the question she asked Gigi half a year ago, when she had been scared of this foreign thing that had started living inside of her.

“Huh? Jan-” Jackie asks. Oh, she said that part out loud.

“-I can- um. Should I go back to the counter?”

Over the speakers, the song changes into something with a bit more kick.

“I didn’t mean that,” Jan says. Wrong answer. Jackie’s face falls, and the thing inside Jan twists around her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“No- wait, no, Jackie.” She speeds up, words falling into each other. Her hand slips from the mug and it crashes onto the floor, spraying coffee onto her jeans. “Hold on, that’s stupid, I’m not- fuck, I’m not scared.”

“Okay,” Jackie says, quiet, like she understands what Jan is trying to say. Maybe she does. She has a way of getting Jan like that.

“I’m, I-” Jan’s hands shake and she sticks them into the pockets of her apron to hide it.

“You don’t have to,” Jackie says, when Jan starts talking and stops again, like a fish, or somebody drowning underwater.

Jan shakes her head, so hard her earrings jingle. She taps the toe of her combat boots on the ground, counts to five, and then to ten. Then to twenty, because she’s chicken.

“I love you,” She blurts.

“Okay,” Jackie repeats, then louder, again, like she senses Jan needs to hear it back. “Okay. I love you too.”

And then it’s done, and it makes sense, all of a sudden. Jan throws her head back, laughs with her whole body, and Jackie looks at her, half in surprise and half in curiosity.

“I’m an idiot,” Jan says, by way of explanation. “ God , Jackie, do you know how long I’ve waited to say that?”

Jackie stares at her. She blinks rapidly, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Are you crying?” Jan asks, her voice pitching higher at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Jackie sniffs and swats at Jan when she swoops in to hug her.

“Stop, go away, let me be an emotional wreck in peace.” The effect is decidedly ruined by the way she dissolves into laughter at the end of her protest, but Jan appreciates the effort.

So they just stand there, and Jan’s smiling with her forehead pressed against Jackie’s, all watery and loving. Jackie pulls her in closer for a kiss, Jan practically melting into her. It’s salty from both of their tears because they’re both crybabies, and Jan wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tonight, when they get home, Jan will make lasagna with her nonna’s recipe.

Jackie’s already prepped shir berenj for desert, and they’ll have it with the bottle of red wine that’s been sitting on the top shelf, waiting for a special occasion just like this. They’ll sit on the balcony until late in the night, safe in each other’s company.

Things won’t be perfect, or easy. Not now, maybe not ever.

But Jan’s okay with that. She’s okay with figuring things out as they go. Especially since it now comes with the promise of Jackie at her side, steady and comforting and loving Jan for every part of who she is.

Because she’s in love.

And wow, how badly she wants to scream it into the city, so that everyone knows about this magical thing that has come into her life, with such reckless abandon. It’s feral and wild, and it cuts up the soft parts of her sometimes, but that’s okay because Jackie’s here to help her heal.

Like: it’s far less terrifying when she knows Jackie loves her back.

Like: they live here, in this time and this place, with each other, and that is enough for her.

Like: she’s in love. True love.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #gigi goode #jankie #s12 #lesbian au #fluff #domestic #and for once you let go #mumu #concrit welcome

13 notes · View notes

vfdarkness · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Constellation - pilot

What follows is the pilot script for another audiodrama I’ve been working on. I wrote the initial draft of this about the same time as episode one of A Voice From Darkness. The elevator pitch is it’s Twin Peaks inside The Overlook Hotel. Besides giving you that, I’ll let you experience it blind. Enjoy!

TEASER

We hear a dial-up modem connection.

Partway in, as the static enters, underneath it, a swarm of wasps fades in.

THE SWARM isn't natural. It's how wasps sound in a nightmare.

The Swarm overtakes the dial-up static and tones. It pervades our ears. Then:

SILENCE.

We hear the last few seconds of the modem connection made.

It fades out.

As it does, for a half-second a wasp buzzes through our ears.

INTRO MUSIC

ACT 1

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - DAY

Customers make small talk as they eat.

A register dings open. Change is made. The register is shut.

ALLISON WENDT (20s) stands behind the counter.

ALLISON

Thanks for coming to The Ursa Minor. Hope you beat the blizzard.

The door opens and closes. A door chime lets us know.

Allison grabs a coffee pot off the burner.

Footsteps.

Coffee is poured into a mug.

TRAVIS BYERS (50s) sits at the counter.

TRAVIS

I need at least two refills of that coffee of yours every morning, Allison. Ha.

ALLISON

You're not sitting in your usual spot, Travis.

TRAVIS

No, guess I'm not.

ALLISON

It's empty. Been empty all morning. Any reason you didn't sit in your back corner booth? That's prime real estate in most diners.

TRAVIS

Thought I'd see if the eggs tasted any different at the counter. That's all.

ALLISON

You order the same thing everyday.

TRAVIS

I like what I like.

ALLISON

You read the newspaper everyday - each section in the same order front page, sports, entertainment, comics, local. Everyday.

TRAVIS

Not always. Sundays I read the comics after the front page. But what's your point?

ALLISON

You're a man of habit. And you changed something today. I think there's a reason. I'd like to know what that is.

TRAVIS

Something wrong with me sitting at the counter?

A beat.

ALLISON

Do you ever remember your dreams?

TRAVIS

I don't want to talk about dreams. I want to drink my coffee and read my paper.

A beat.

ALLISON

You just finished the sports section. Time for entertainment. Unless you're changing that up too.

Enjoy your coffee.

Allison walks away.

INT. CAR - DAY

We hear a car driving on a snowy interstate road. Wiper blades slowly knock the slush from the windshield.

Periodically other cars are heard in passing.

Driving is SPECIAL AGENT MICHAEL RIDLEY (30S).

The RECORD button of a microcassette tape recorder is pressed. There's an audible hiss from the tape.

RIDLEY

(into recorder)

Starting a fresh tape as I begin the Alaskan leg of the investigation. The date is September 26th, 1995. 3:13pm, Alaska Daylight Time.

A beat.

RIDLEY

It’s snowing. Coming down hard. I knew that was likely before I got on the plane up here. But if the post office doesn’t stop delivering: “Neither snow, nor rain…” how could an honest man of the Bureau not search for a missing girl under those same conditions? Still... If I don’t find Kimberly Dalton in the next several hours, I’ll need to make accommodations.

A beat.

RIDLEY

I'm nearing Constellation, Alaska. Strange town. I don't mean to be judgmental, but it undoubtedly is. The entire community exists within a single building The-

Ridley flips through a notepad on his passenger seat.

RIDLEY

Randsa Tower. A fourteen-story ex-naval base, according to the clerk at the gas station. I had to have him explain what he meant - the whole town existing in a single building. He meant exactly that. Doctors' offices, a diner, grocery store, taverns, church - you heard that right, taverns plural, church singular - all of it under one roof in the Randsa Tower - Constellation- both. You can be born, live your life, and die without ever stepping foot outside the building.

A beat.

RIDLEY

I guess that's no different than any other town in many respects. Wonder if they have a graveyard somewhere in the building. If I get in good with any of the locals I might ask.

A beat.

RIDLEY

Still a mystery is what Kimberly Dalton saw on the world wide web that brought her all the way here.

The tape hiss continues until Ridley hits the STOP button.

SEGUE MUSIC

INT. RANDSA TOWER QUARTERDECK - DAY

We hear Ridley's footsteps walk up to a receptionist desk.

Sitting at the desk is RADIOMAN FIRST CLASS (RM1) SEAN DWYER (30S). He plays with a three-dimensional puzzle that's much like a Rubik's Cube. But not.

As Ridley approaches, Dwyer twists his puzzle.

RIDLEY

Excuse me.

The cube twisting continues.

RIDLEY

(louder)

Excuse me - Could you stop playing with that puzzle-toy for a moment.

The twisting stops.

DWYER

(petulant)

Can I help you?

Ridley pulls out his wallet and flips it open.

RIDLEY

Special Agent Michael Ridley, FBI. I tried calling ahead but couldn't get through. I'm looking for a runaway teenage girl from St Louis. You the town... receptionist?

DWYER

RM1 Dwyer. Navy. I'm the Petty Officer of the Watch. You, Special Agent Ridley, are standing at the Quarterdeck of this command.

RIDLEY

Quarterdeck? For a building? You call the windows portholes too?

Dwyer doesn't laugh.

RIDLEY

This is still a naval base? Guy at the gas station told me it got de-commed in the 80s.

DWYER

(laughs)

You get all your military intel from gas station clerks? Some floors are navy-occupied.

RIDLEY

Which floors?

DWYER

That's classified.

RIDLEY

What if I go to one of those floors on accident?

DWYER

Well, don't do that.

RIDLEY

How will I know unless you tell me which floors I can and cannot traverse?

DWYER

I mean, if you just - if you - go to... Just try to avoid...

RIDLEY

Listen, Petty Officer, I'd like to find my runaway before we're snowed in here. Help me out, will you?

Dwyer sighs. We hear him pick up the handset of a phone and dials a rotary.

RIDLEY

Are you-

DWYER

I'm getting one of my guys down here to escort you up to the Sheriff's office.

Faintly, we hear a phone ring through the receiver.

DWYER

(to Ridley, tour guide mode)

Constellation is named after one of the six original frigates that-

DWYER

(into phone)

Bogues? Get down here.

Complaining-sounding muttering from the phone receiver.

DWYER

I don't care if you're not on watch. You were dumb enough to answer the phone. Get down here. I need you to escort someone.

More muttering at the other end.

RIDLEY

What floor's the sheriff on?

DWYER

Seventh.

RIDLEY

Tell your guy not to bother. I'll find it on my own, thanks.

Ridley's footsteps move away from the Quarterdeck.

Dwyer hangs up the phone.

The sound of a cube turning resumes.

ACT II

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - DAY

The Swarm fades in. It builds to a crescendo.

Then cuts to diner ambiance.

DEVIN GRANT (19) flips a page in his comic book.

The double doors separating the kitchen and diner swing open.

DEVIN

Hey Allison.

ALLISON

Devin. You're not in uniform. You off today?

DEVIN

No duty for me.

ALLISON

Lucky. Looked like a lot of your fellow sailors were busy battening down the hatches for this blizzard.

DEVIN

Yeah, I gotta miss all that. And mom sent me a care package.

ALLISON

Comics?

DEVIN

And Good & Plentys. You want some?

Devin shakes a box of candy.

ALLISON

Devin, I'm giving one last warning - if you ever offer me that awful lie that calls itself a candy again - you'll be banned from this establishment. Forever.

DEVIN

More for me.

A beat.

DEVIN

I ran into Martha Davidson earlier. She said she ate breakfast here this morning.

ALLISON

Yep. Her and her husband.

DEVIN

She said she heard you arguing with Travis Byers about something. What was it?

ALLISON

It's nothing. Don't worry about it.

DEVIN

Come on. You gotta tell me.

(whispers)

You went Jean Grey on him, didn't you? You read his mind and saw something weeeiiird.

ALLISON

I told you not to call me that.

DEVIN

(rationalizing)

Sorry, it's just-

ALLISON

It's nothing like that. That's not how it works.

DEVIN

(genuine)

Sorry.

A beat.

ALLISON

So did you want to order real food or keep eating that garbage candy of yours?

DEVIN

Yeah, can I order something to go? I promised someone I'd bring them something.

The Swarm abruptly comes back in. It builds. Then:

SILENCE.

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

The elevator doors close. A button is pressed.

Ridley turns his microcassette recorder on. We hear the hiss of the tape.

RIDLEY

(into recorder)

5:48pm Alaska Daylight Time. The sheriff's office was empty. There was a note on the door that read: Back Sometime.

The elevator moves.

RIDLEY

While talking to RM1 Dwyer earlier, across the lobby, I saw a neon sign for The Ursa Minor Diner. In Constellation. Cute. My intention now is to grab a meal, question the staff to see if any have seen Kimberly Dalton, and then ask about getting a room. I was maybe too optimistic in thinking I'd find Miss Dalton and we'd leave before the blizzard hit.

The elevator unexpectedly stops.

We hear the lights flicker.

The Swarm fades in, but is just barely present in the background.

It fades out after a few moments.

RIDLEY

Not sure what just happened. I believe the elevator stopped.

The elevator moves again.

RIDLEY

Had me worried for a moment. Thought maybe it'd lost power.

The elevator doors open.

A beat.

RIDLEY

I'm not sure what floor I'm on, but it's not the lobby.

Ridley presses the Lobby button again.

Nothing happens.

He presses it several times.

RIDLEY

The elevator appears stuck.

He waits. All we hear is the hiss of his tape recorder.

Ridley impatiently sighs.

We hear his footsteps.

RIDLEY

I'll have to find the stairwell.

Footsteps.

SEGUE MUSIC

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - NIGHT

Diner ambiance.

The phone rings.

Footsteps.

The phone is picked up.

ALLISON

Ursa Minor, this is Allison.

DWYER

(through phone)

Will you bring me a piece of pie? Please. And thank-you.

ALLISON

Who is this?

DWYER

It's Dwyer. Over at the Quarterdeck. I'm waving at you.

ALLISON

Yeah, I see you. What kind?

DWYER

Cherry, please.

SEGUE MUSIC

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

We hear Ridley walking and the hiss of his microcassette tape recorder.

RIDLEY

(into recorder)

The floor I'm on - there's low wattage light bulbs in candelabras on either side of the hall. Doors on either side. All numbered.

Ridley knocks on a door.

RIDLEY

Anyone home?

Some footsteps, then another knock.

RIDLEY

Anyone here?

Quiet except for the tape hiss.

We hear his footsteps as he continues down the hall.

RIDLEY

I'm not sure how many live in Constellation. Whole floors could be abandoned. I've lost count of all the doors I've knocked on. I haven't seen a single EXIT sign that might direct me to a stairwell. I believe that's an OSHA - and National Fire Protection Association - requirement. When possible, I'll register a complaint to the building supervisor.

A beat.

We hear the sound of the puzzle Dwyer was playing with on the Quarterdeck.

Ridley is startled - we hear him exhale and jump back.

RIDLEY

Where did you come from?

The sound of the puzzle shifting continues for a moment. THE GIRL does not answer at first.

THE GIRL

I was here before you.

RIDLEY

I saw the petty officer on the quarterdeck playing with one of those toys. Puzzles? Whatever it is.

THE GIRL

A Primordial.

RIDLEY

What?

THE GIRL

A Primordial. Admiral Parsons designed it. To see which of us are in tune and which are not. Would you like to try it, Michael?

RIDLEY

How'd you know my name?

THE GIRL

I'm sorry. Should I call you Special Agent? Was it rude of me to call you by your first name? Have we met yet?

RIDLEY

No... No- we haven't.

THE GIRL

I saw her. You told me to keep an eye out for her. She's looking for The Door. I told her not to go through it. Not to look for it. If she does - she'll draw attention to this tower.

RIDLEY

Who? Who did you see?

THE GIRL

The girl you told me to keep an eye out for.

RIDLEY

Kimberly Dalton?

THE GIRL

She solved The Primordial in several seconds. Faster than anyone in my class can.

RIDLEY

Where is she?

THE GIRL

Who?

RIDLEY

Kimberly Dalton?

THE GIRL

I don't know who that is.

RIDLEY

You just said you saw her.

THE GIRL

Who?

RIDLEY

Are you playing games with me? You told me I told you to keep an eye out for Kimberly Dalton and then you said you saw her. We never had that conversation.

THE GIRL

But we did. Just now. Didn't we? You just told me to keep an eye out for Kimberly Dalton. And I will.

The sound of the puzzle shifting stops.

THE GIRL

(scared)

I need to go now.

RIDLEY

Wait - how do I get back to the lobby?

A door slams down the hall. Then another. And another.

RIDLEY

What is that? Who's there?

The sound of THE SWARM is faint in the distance.

RIDLEY

Where'd she go? Young girl?

He tries the nearest doorknob. And other. Both locked.

RIDLEY

She disappeared.

The Swarm raises and fades out.

INT. RANDSA TOWER QUARTERDECK - NIGHT

Quarterdeck ambiance.

DWYER

RM3 Grant get over here!

A beat.

DWYER

RM3 Grant! - Devin! - Get over here.

Footsteps.

DEVIN

RM1, what's up?

DWYER

You see an FBI Agent wandering around?

DEVIN

FBI? What're they doing here?

DWYER

That's classified. Just... I haven't seen him in a few hours. The blizzard's really coming down now. Kinda worried he and the girl he's looking for might be stuck here awhile.

DEVIN

Girl?

Dwyer realizes he shared something maybe he shouldn't have.

DWYER

That's classified.

SEGUE MUSIC.

ACT III

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

Footsteps. We hear the hiss of Ridley's tape recorder.

RIDLEY

(into recorder)

I've just turned the corner. Still not sure where the girl I was speaking to went. Still no clear exit. Dead end up ahead, but one of the doors is cracked open. A green light is emitting from the space.

He walks down the hall.

Knocks.

RIDLEY

Hello? Door's open. Anyone here?

In the distance we hear The Swarm.

The door creaks as Ridley opens it. He steps inside.

The Swarm fades back as he enters the apartment.

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - NIGHT

Diner ambiance.

ALLISON

Travis, you're back for dinner.

TRAVIS

I am.

ALLISON

Back at the counter again too.

TRAVIS

Let's not get into this again.

ALLISON

Sorry. And sorry for this morning.

TRAVIS

All water under the bridge.

ALLISON

This morning I was having the worst case of Deja Vu. You ever get that?

TRAVIS

Oh yeah. Doesn't everybody?

ALLISON

Maybe it wasn't Deja Vu exactly. It was a dream I had. Do you ever remember your dreams?

A beat.

TRAVIS

No. Not normally.

ALLISON

I do. Really well. You were in a dream of mine last night. You want to hear it?

Travis doesn't reply.

The diner ambiance fades out as Allison describes her dream.

Dream ambiance replaces it.

ALLISON

I was standing here. But you were over there. Sitting in your corner booth. Like you normally are. The diner - it wasn't the same. The windows that face out into the lobby. And the ones that look outside - they were all black. And it was dark in here too. But I could see you sitting in your booth. You weren't alone. There was a man with you. He leaned across the table and whispered in your ear. He placed an object into your palm, and you squeezed your hand shut. You became two people. One of you got up and walked out into the darkness that'd overtaken the lobby. Walked right past me. I tried to talk - to stop you. But I had no voice. I turned my attention back to the you in your booth: What did he say to you? What did he place in your palm? I wondered. In my dream. I was holding a coffee pot.

Without thinking I walked toward you - the you still in the booth - you and this man you were with. Maybe to give you some dream coffee. When I got closer, I saw it wasn't a man with you. It was a bunch of tiny ugly squirming things. Creatures. Insects. I don't know what they were but they were. Were-

TRAVIS

Swarming. They were swarming.

ALLISON

Swarming. That's the word. They were swarming together to form this- this perverse simulacrum of a man.

A beat.

ALLISON

What did it whisper, Travis? Where is the other you?

CUTAWAY SOUND

INT. ABANDONED APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

RIDLEY

I don't mean to intrude - if anyone's here - but I'm a bit lost.

A beat.

RIDLEY

(into recorder)

There's no one here. I don't think this space has been occupied in some time. The greenlight - there's a computer terminal. It's an older system - I'd place it somewhere from the early 80s. It's flashing trivia questions across the screen - What's the capital of Idaho? Who was the eighth president? What year was The Great Gatsby published? There's a stack of reference books next to the keyboard. Encyclopedia volumes, an almanac. Atlas.

The door creaks.

RIDLEY

(away from the recorder)

Hello? Someone there?

The Swarm enters, but it cuts out. And is replaced by:

A man sobbing.

RIDLEY

Sir, I need to ask you to put the gun down.

TRAVIS

(sobbing)

I can't. I want to but I can't. It's making me...

RIDLEY

What's making you?

TRAVIS

I was in the diner - in the dark - and I was sent here. To give you a message. You need to listen.

CUTAWAY SOUND

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - CONTINUOUS

Diner ambiance.

TRAVIS

It's like you said, Allison. Deja Vu. I didn't remember this morning when I sat at the counter. Something about the back booth set me on edge though, but I didn't know what. I remember now. I remember it all. You want to know what The Swarm whispered to me?

Everything that Travis says next - his voice is doubled - as there's two versions of him delivering the message.

Under his words is a subtle but unsettling ambient sound.

TRAVIS

The star that guides you is black./ There is no sky.

There is no light./ You are shipbuilders, you are thieves./ Who only travel in the night./ In my home, there were unopened doors./ But you beat them down./ You left differently than you came./ Did you know?/ I'd never seen a blade of grass. A river snail. A desert tower./ Memories. Mirrors. And dreams./ I speak those tongues, perhaps more./ But I have no words to convey my hatred for your trespassing./ So I invent my own.

INT. ABANDONED APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

Gunshot.

Body falls to the floor.

RIDLEY

Oh no. No.

(into recorder)

This man... I'm not sure how much the recorder captured, but this man came in with a gun to his head. He spoke - delivered a message. And he shot himself. The message he delivered...

A beat.

RIDLEY

I think this is going to be the Summer of '91 all over again.

Ridley presses STOP on his tape recorder.

INT. URSA MINOR DINER - CONTINUOUS

Diner ambiance.

TRAVIS

Asked and answered, Allison. Asked and answered. That is what was whispered to me in our dream. And now that dream is over.

We hear Travis disappear.

ALLISON

What does any of that mean? Travis?

(shouts)

Travis!?

A beat.

ALLISON

He's gone.

Customers continue to eat and make small talk.

A wasp buzzes in our ears for a split second.

OUTRO MUSIC

#audiodrama #audiofiction #workinprogress

2 notes · View notes