#the first time the blurring on the pictures got messed up so i deleted them to try again

[miss--river]

i hate posing more than one character at a time but i endure it for the serotonin the end product gives me

[arvinsescape]

Hey could you please write something with reader's ex leaking some private pictures you two took when you were together just because he's jealous of you and tom, so when tom hears about what happened he is so upset that someone could be this low, he's not even jealous, he is just so mad that he could cry

A/N: Thank you for sending this in, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, leaking of nudes (this is never okay, I do not condone this behaviour), talks of bad relationships, mentions of stalking (do not read if you are uncomfortable).

You and Tom had been together for just over a year and a half, it had been amazing, you absolutely adored each other and everyone could see it. There was only one negative in your relationship and that came with your ex.

He was an incredibly jealous human being, awful in every way. You broke things off with him after two years of putting up with his behaviour. You'd not been allowed to have male friends, the relationship you had with the men Tom lived with was strange for you at first, at every turn you expected Tom to get angry about how close you were getting. It never happened, Tom adored the relationship you had with the boys and it was quick to reassure you of that fact when you opened up to him about it.

Unfortunately, although he claimed he wasn't in love with you, he couldn't let you go. He was so jealous when he found out you'd moved on that he started stalking your social medias, leaving comments on your posts which led to you blocking him. Of course, this didn't work, he made new accounts in order to find out what you were doing, leaving nasty comments on posts you made to a point where you simply stopped posting as often.

He was tiring and for a while you worried he'd find you, approach you but he never did. You'd been on edge for a short time after making your relationship with Tom public due to the comments he'd leave on your posts. You wondered whether or not he'd ever get over it, let you go but he seemingly wasn't going to anytime soon. It was tiresome, truly but you'd learned to live with it, you continued to block the accounts he made, Tom personally emailing the social media companies in hopes they could put a stop to him but to no avail.

You travelled with Tom a lot, most of the time unless you had family commitments that kept you homebound. This was due to your job and the way it worked, you never needed to be in an office and you could work from anywhere in the world. Book editing meant you had freedom. It made you feel safe, knowing Tom was never far away and when he was filming you could spend time with one of the boys and it brought a huge comfort to you.

You were back in London, in Tom's shared house after a long stretch in the states, you were happy to be back home, have your home comforts. You had been in and out of sleep for the past hour, your phone buzzing like crazy which had resulted in you turning it off, not ready to face whatever it was so early in the morning. That was all well and good until Tom's phone started half an hour later.

"Tom." You lightly shook him in his sleep and he mumbled incoherently in response. "Tom?" You tried harder.

"Y/N, go back to sleep." He grumbled as he pulled you into his chest as his phone started again. You pushed against his chest and his eyes snapped open.

"Tom your phone." You stated and Tom groaned before rolling over and mindlessly fishing for the device, turning it off as well. "It might be important." You said and he rolled back over to pull you into him.

"I'll deal with it later, it's my week off, it can wait." He mumbled into your neck as he sighed out. It didn't take him long to find sleep again as he held you against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you and making you drift into your own sleep.

You're not sure how long you'd been back asleep before you heard banging on your bedroom door. Tom groaning as he squeezed your body and ignored the knocks, hoping whichever boy it was would go away.

"Tom." Harrison's voice pulled you both from your sleepy state. He sounded worried, not his usual calm and chilled out self as he banged on the door again. "You need to get up." He said frantically.

"Fuck off Harrison, I'm tired." Tom shouted back as you sat up and ran a hand over your face. Tom protesting as you sat against the headboard trying to come to. "Darling, come back." He begged, almost childishly, you were about to respond when Harrison piped up again.

"Tom, mate seriously. Get up, it's important." He tried and Tom groaned again before sitting up next to you. "Right, I'm coming in." Haz shouted before opening your bedroom door, phone in hand and face paler than usual.

"Haz what is so important that we need to get up at," Tom started as he checked his watch. "7:30 in the morning."

"You need to check your phones." He said as he threw his phone in your direction. With furrowed brows you picked it up. "I'm so sorry Y/N/N." He said and Tom was quick to grab his phone, turning it on.

"What do you mean? Haz it's early and I've not woken up yet, what's going on?" Tom asked as you scrolled Haz's phone, quiet as a mouse, face dropping. You flicked though the series of pictures that had made their way to twitter, complete and utter disbelief hitting you.

"Her ex." Harrison said as Tom's phone finished booting up, numerous missed calls from his publicist and twitter notifying him that he was trending. "Y/N/N, are you okay?" Harrison asked as he took in your figure.

"How long have these been up?" You asked, eyes not leaving his phone.

"I don't know they were posted overnight." Harrison sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Numerous pictures of yourself from a couple of years ago staring back at you. Pictures with your ex in very compromising positions mocking you as you looked at them.

You nodded slowly as you swallowed down your emotions, you lifted a shaky hand to run through your hair. The internet had practically seen you for what you were, seen things that were meant for a significant other. Pictures of yourself you'd sent to your ex before things got bad between the two of you.

"Fucking piece of shit." Tom whispered as he himself saw what Harrison had been talking about. You felt like crying, the lump in your throat felt heavy as you tried to swallow it down, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the pictures.

"Sweetheart," Tom started as he took Harrison's phone from your hand and handed it back to his friend. Harrison took it and quickly made his way from your room, he knew you were seconds away from breaking down and you needed your privacy.

"I thought he'd deleted them." You whispered to more yourself than anyone else. "I sent those at the beginning of our relationship, fucking idiot." You said to yourself and Tom pulled you into him as your tears fell, silently crying.

"You're not an idiot. This is on him, not you. I'm so sorry." Tom said as he held you. "He had no right to do that."

"Is he ever going to leave me alone?" You cried and Tom's heart shattered there and then in his chest. This man had been a tormenter for years, too long and he had been cause for your tears numerous times over your relationship.

"He is. I swear to god this is the last time." Tom promised as he held you tight against him. His phone rang yet again and he huffed out in annoyance as he lifted an arm, reaching for his phone. "Hey, I'll call you back." Tom said into the phone, you didn't hear the response. "No, this is more important, I'll talk to you later." Tom snapped before hanging up the phone and throwing it to one side.

You became a sobbing mess, the world having seen parts of yourself you never wanted them to. You wanted to disappear off the face of earth, how were you supposed to go out in public after this? How were you supposed to face the people you knew? Your mind was racing, thoughts embedding themselves as you thought more about what would happen. You only cried harder as you thought about it.

Tom comforted you through your breakdown, reassuring you that it was going to be okay. He was in complete shock, how could someone do this? He wanted to cry as he held you, his heart was broken for the woman in his arms. He listened as you eventually calmed down, breathing steadying as you pulled away from his chest and wiped your face.

"I'm gonna do something about this, I promise." Tom comforted and he watched as a defeated look spread across your face.

"What does it matter? The world has seen them now." You smiled sadly, realising there was nothing you could do. He'd taken things to a knew level, one you would never hear the end of. "It's my own fault, I never should have sent them." You bit your lip as you tried to hold back more tears.

"No baby, don't do that. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." He said as he sat across from you, taking your hands into his own. You couldn't look him in the eye, what if he hated you for this? This was something people could use against him now, what if he was disgusted you ever sent them to him.

"Stop it." Tom said softly, he could see you reeling, see your thoughts consuming you. He always knew, he said you had this look on your face and in your eyes, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Don't, I know what you're thinking and this isn't your fault."

"Look at me," Tom encouraged as he took your chin in his hand and forced your gaze into his own. "I promise this is going to be okay." He comforted and the look in his eyes was so comforting, so safe. No judgement, nothing hiding behind them, he was heart broken for you, you could see that in the tears that were slightly welling in his eyes.

It wasn't that you were against sending pictures to your partner, you and Tom had sent your fair share to each other. But you had learned a valuable lesson, you'd deleted every picture between you and your ex because that was the right thing to do, right? But he hadn't, he'd kept them and it made you uncomfortable as to why? Why would he want to keep those pictures? Why would he release them for the world to see?

"One minute." Tom said as he got off the bed and made his way into the en suite. You heard running water and you knew he was running you a bath, the evidence in the smell of flowers filling the room as he added your favourite bubble bath. He reappeared after a while.

"Come on. I've got some calls to make so you have a bath." He said as he held his hand out for you. Your heart warmed but you sighed as you took his hand and stood up.

"This isn't your mess to clean up Tom, it's mine." You mumbled and Tom shook his head as he tugged you slightly into the bathroom.

"If it affects you, it affects me. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you. I love you okay? This isn't your fault and I'm gonna put an end to his shit, I've had enough. I'm gonna do something about him." Tom said and you smiled sadly.

"Thank you." You said and Tom smiled as he gestured for you to get into the bath.

"I'll be back in a while. I'm gonna talk to my legal team, see what I can do. You just try and relax and I want you to promise me that you'll stay off social media today." He said and you nodded as he smiled in comfort at you, kissing your forehead as he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs, grabbing his phone and putting some sweats on as he did.

"How is she?" Harrison asked, almost as soon as Tom entered the living room. Tom sighed as he turned to his best friend.

"She's upset. Blames herself for ever sending them." He said and Haz furrowed his brows.

"This is that twats fault. I swear if I ever see him again I'm gonna punch the smug look he always has right off his fucking face." Haz said.

"You'll have to get in line. I could kill him for what he's done." Tom said, he was so upset that you'd been put through this. "I want to fucking cry for her Haz, she's devastated." Tom continued as Tuwaine made his way into the room.

"That man is a fucking dick." He ranted straight away, Harry agreeing as he made his way in. "I can't believe the shit he's pulled." He continued.

"He's was so open about it, posting them onto his personal twitter account." Harry said in disbelief.

"I'm hoping that was his biggest mistake, what I can get him for." Tom said as he scrolled his contacts, pulling up the head of his legal team.

"What's the reaction online?" Haz asked carefully and Tuwaine shook his head.

"Half and half, some people are defending her, some are mocking her, others judging. It's a mess, people wanna know how Tom feels about it, some Y/N. I don't know, I tried not to look too much." Tuwaine sighed and Haz gave a tight nod as he grabbed his phone and vigorously started to type.

Tom left the room as he held the phone to his ear, on the phone with his legal team. Disappearing to talk in private. Harrison finally finished his typing as Tuwiane and Harry's phone pinged, Harrison's tweets coming to their attention.

There are no words for what has happened to my two best friends. What this man has done is disgusting and in no way Y/N's fault, please stop circulating the pictures. They were posted without her consent and she is hurting enough without people mocking her. Leave her alone, leave Tom alone. You will hear from them when they are ready.

Harry and Tuwaine retweeting the tweets before adding their own in support of you. You were close to them all, they were like your brother's.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. This is just awful, I can't believe this has happened." Tuwaine said and watched as you appeared in the living room, you had your pyjama pants on, one of Tom's hoodies consuming your upper half as you looked sheepishly around the room.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry this has happened." Tuwaine said as he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in comfort. "It's okay, we're gonna get you through this." He promised and your heart warmed as you hugged him back.

There was a part of you that wondered how much the boys had seen, it made you feel strange around them. What if they'd seen the pictures of your intimate parts?

"I didn't look." Tuwaine said, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "I saw enough to know when to stop scrolling, enough to know what had happened." He reassured as the boys voiced the same.

"Okay, he's gonna do some digging, see how far he can take it. See what he can get him done for." Tom said as he reappeared, you instantly leaving Tuwaine's arms for your boyfriends.

"Is it looking promising? That we can press charges of some sort against him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's just said he'll see if he can take more action. He's already contacted twitter and they're trying to put a stop to the sharing of the pictures. The rest of the sites the same." Tom said as he squeezed you tightly, chin resting on top of your head.

Tom's phone rang again and he pulled it from his pocket, sighing as he watched his publicists name flash across his screen. This was the phone call he was dreading because his PR team didn't give a fuck how you looked, it was all about Tom. This wasn't about him.

"Hello?" Tom said as he answered, he couldn't ignore them forever.

"Tom! Finally!" He heard the shrill screech of her voice and he grimaced as he did. He moved you both to sit on the couch, sitting you on his lap as he cuddled you. "Have you seen the internet?"

"Yeah." Tom said, almost annoyed.

"Y/N needs to put out a statement." She said and Tom huffed, anger building in him.

"Y/N doesn't need to do anything. She will address this if and when she is ready." Tom snapped.

"Tom this will make it look bad for you if neither of you address it. Some people are speculating she's cheated." She replied and your stomach dropped as you overheard her. Tom shifted you onto the couch as he got up, placing a kiss to your lips as he disappeared again. You didn't need to hear any of this.

"I don't give a shit to be honest. She hasn't cheated, these photos where posted without her consent. This isn't about me, this is about her." Tom snapped.

"But Tom, you are Spiderman, your girlfriends nudes have been leaked, pictures of her with another man have leaked." She snapped back and Tom's anger hit breaking point.

"I don't care. I just told you that. I'm not going to force her to do a thing she doesn't want. I don't care that I am Spiderman, what happened to her is wrong and I'm gonna stand by her."

"About that." She said Tom's heart dropped.

"What?"

"We think it might be best if you distanced yourself from her. Make it look like a slight break." His publicist said and Tom's anger hit the roof at the suggestion. His publicist had never been fond of your relationship, they wanted him to date other celebrities, he'd fought them for ages on this front.

"Not happening. This is devastating for her, you really think I'm gonna abandon her? You know what? If anyone thinks negatively about me or her, that's on them because what has happened to her is wrong. How do you think that will look? I can just see the headlines. Tom Holland leaves girlfriend after nudes where leaked without her consent. What sort of a message does that send to people? Did you think about that? Or is this just you taking another opportunity to try and get me seen with someone you approve of?" Tom screamed, the house heard.

"I, I suppose I hadn't thought about that." She stumbled out quietly. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself.

"I don't want to hear anything more about this. I'm going to deal with this my way. This isn't about me, this about her and sticking by her, which I am going to do. Whatever you might say. The fact that you hadn't thought about what I've just said makes clear to me that I can't trust you with this one and maybe I should be looking for someone I can." Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you be. We'll try and do what we can here." She said and Tom didn't even feel guilty for blowing out on his publicist, the team could be the biggest wankers he'd ever met anyway.

"Tom, you'll get in trouble." You said as he made his way back into the room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his side as he kissed your head.

"I don't care. This isn't about me, they need to realise that." Tom spoke into your hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he typed away, minutes later and everyone's phone had pinged, Tom had posted to Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, one taken over winter in by the fire.

I'm sure many of you have seen what has happened. I'm devastated someone would do this, these pictures were posted without her consent. This man kept these pictures for over two years and then posted them. I ask that you stop judging and just think for a second how this would make you feel, if it was you in this position. She trusted him enough to send those images and he broke that trust, it's so wrong.

I ask that you stop posting the pictures, they are not yours or mine to post. There is no cheating involved, this man has caused enough distress for Y/N and I will not let it continue. I want you to support her and send love, it's what she deserves. She's my best friend and my lover, I stand by her 100% on this, I will not tolerate any abuse sent her way.

Please understand that she is not ready to address this and if she never is that's okay. She doesn't have to, this isn't her fault and she has nothing to apologise for. I love her and I hope to see your continued support of her, much love Tom x

He switched his phone off as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more than to make this go away for you, he wanted to hide you from the world, keep you safe. He had to swallow his tears again, heart aching from what this man has done to you, he couldn't stop himself pulling you tighter against him as he tried to keep his tears at bay..

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. I love you." He said into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to straddle him. You pulled each other impossibly closer and the boys smiled at the interaction, no matter what was going on the world, the two had each other. They had each other's backs and it was heart warming to see, to know they had all the support they would ever need in each other.

[the-shiftshop]

Hey Diary - Part 4

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 and SIDE STORY 1 of the Hey Diary Series

The day ended unexpectedly fun. Everyone was so confused why Keith and I had been laughing together, eating together and even sitting side by side in class today as if Keith never had bullied me. Some even tried to confront us, asking if Keith held me hostage. Keith had been dragging me all around with him. He even asked me to play ball with Peter and Tom, who seemed more closer than usual. I would make assumptions that my recent changes are still affecting them, but I already had deleted that log, and these two would, time by time, give hints that they’re nothing more than a friend, so I shrugged it off.

On my way home, I couldn’t get the fun out of my system. I finally felt so free to move. It’s like I can finally do whatever I want and be whatever I want to be.

Then I suddenly remembered what Keith had asked me this morning.

“Make me old enough to be a teacher for a day.”

It got me thinking about what he’s planning to do once more. It’s not that I don’t trust Keith. It’s just that I’m wondering what his goal is. It’s probably just because he wants to experience being old, or being a teacher. He looked so exhilarated when I told him all about the Diary App, so I’m pretty sure he just wants to give it a try.

At home, I didn’t waste anymore time to tinker with the app as I am very tired and I already want to fall asleep. I carefully wrote down on the app, thinking of the desired outcome I am aiming for.

Monday

Hey Diary,

Today was fun. It felt like I was friends with Keith, Peter and Tom ever since the first day we met. We all had fun together and it felt like all my problems are fixed. This morning, I talked to Keith about this Diary App. I have trusted Keith on this, and I do hope he wouldn’t take that for granted. He was super amazed with this app and the ability of it to change reality and he specifically gave me one request.

I wish that would come true, I wish Keith would turn into the person he want him to be just for a day, and that he would be aware of any changes that may occur.

With that properly typed out, I pressed save, then in just a few seconds, I lost consciousness on my bed.

---------

As soon as Felix fainted in his room, Keith was lying on his bed in the frat house, tossing and turning as he feel his body contort in uncomfortable ways. It wasn’t painful. It just felt like his body is growing far more foreign in every seconds that pass by. It’s like his body wanting to grow numb, but he can still feel pain if he try to pinch himself. With his fingers still pinching his cheeks, he noticed hair poking out to them. He proceeded to feel his face with both his hands, realizing that he’s growing a full beard. Finally recognizing what’s going on, he stopped moving around, and he instead just lied on his back and let it all happen.

He moved his hands down to his growing torso, feeling each muscles expand in his touch. He’s growing, that’s for sure, and it’s not just his body. His mind started to fog up a little, making him wince for a bit.

“I should be working on my lessons for tomorrow-” He blurted out unconsciously. He stopped himself midway, realizing what he had just said. That was the first time he said that. And not only that he meant he’ll study for a lesson, he knows he meant that he’s the one teaching them tomorrow.

He finally decided to stand up. His eyes widened when he saw that it had suddenly gone dark. Not only that, but his beddings changed. His shock soon changed into amusement when we quickly see the night change into day then back to night simultaneously, starting off slow, then it sped up. Even the weird feelings all over his body start to feel more prominent. Memories of years of teaching poured out into his brain. Names of all the student he should know popped out in his mind. Charles, that up-to-no-good student but gets straight As in his class; Marie, that campus nerd who kept asking him weird questions; Lawrence, that jock who needs to keep up with his quizzes. Keith already knew some of these students, but he started to see them in a different light. These are the students he teach, not his friends, not his classmates, not his football teammates.

Keith fell back on his knees as he started to feel tiredness.

It was exhausting feeling all of these happen in just a few minutes. It hurts his eyes to see the outside change between night and day as if like flashing images. His vision started to blur and in replace to his clear sight, a thick round glasses appear on his face.

He remember finishing college and finally started his first practice teaching. Now he’s a fully pledged professor. Everyone liked him. He can even remember students confessing their feelings for him, but of course, declining these for his job. He can remember going into classrooms, not to sit with the crowd, but to stand in front of them. He knows how to make a hard topic fun and he knows his students enjoy his class as much as how he loves to teach.

Tiredness was replaced with pleasure as he arched his back, placing both hands on his crotch, then giving a loud satisfying moan. Feeling his cock ballooned through his shorts. He slowly humped against his hands as he put more pressure on them.

He remember tons of hook ups from college up to recent. Remembering women bouncing on him, kissing him passionately, touching him with deep romantic and sexual connection. These thoughts of women is making him hard. His colleagues had been asking him why he haven’t been properly dating anyone yet, or even planning to marry anyone since he’s already nearing age of marriage, but he just enjoys having flings with a lot of people more than sticking to one, at least, for now. He knows when he will find that right person, and that person has not come yet.

He realized that both of his hands are already in his underpants, pawing that hard cock with one hand, while the other is teasing his tip. He finally had let both of his hands stroke his large shaft. He pulled his cock out of his shorts, then finally gave into pleasure.

“A-Ah! Yeah! Damn!” He cussed in his new deeper voice. Not only that he noticed his voice, he realized that his cursing got more softer, less of that slurs, but more of that expression used to show immense satisfaction. “Aww.. This feels so...”

He cut himself as he finally real his climax, cumming all of what seemed like a 14 year stock of cum all over the floor. The cum stain on the floor disappeared soon enough and his room straightened up more. Finally the quick changing of time came to a full stop.

It was morning and it’s time to take a shower and go to school.

---------

Wish was completed. Please take a picture and attach to the log to confirm change and to keep the new reality.

I stared at the pop-up message in my phone. Peter and Tom are laughing beside me while they eat their lunch. I haven’t seen Keith since morning. I’m kinda worried if I messed up with something. The suspense is killing me and I don’t like this. Tom waved a hand in front of me.

“Dude. You’re been staring in your phone since the time you got here. You fine?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just wondering where Keith has gone to.” I said.

“Keith? Who’s Keith?” Tom asked, before giving me a shocked face. “You don’t mean Professor Keith, right?” He chuckled, “Didn’t know he’s your type.” He joked.

I gave him a confused look, then realizing what he meant, I quickly tried to reply back. “N-No! It’s not like that-”

“Tom, don’t tease him. Let him like whoever he likes.” Peter laughed.

“I mean, I should’ve been saying the same. But then, who wouldn’t fall head over heels for Professor Keith? He’s damn ripped. Unlike the other professors here who focus on growing their stomach and ego, more than growing their muscles.” Tom continued eating his food.

Keith’s a professor now, huh? I guess it worked.

After lunch, we proceeded to class. More than usual, everyone had been talking about Keith. I was sitting on my chair, still staring in my phone as it display the same message. I haven’t used this phone on anything else yet.

My attention switched to Alex who walked in front of me. I haven’t seen Alex in 2 days. He looks like he wants to ask me something. I looked at him and he opened his mouth. “Hey, Felix, uhm... Can we talk-”

“Okay, class back to your seats.”

A deep voice came booming through the room. Everyone sat back to their chairs, including Alex who looks disappointed.

I looked at the man by the whiteboard. He was wearing a denim dress shirt and a black jeans. His round glasses flare with the florescent light in the room. Everyone in the room is staring at him. Most girls are looking at him with hearts in their eyes.

The man dropped his things on the table, then started roaming his eyes around the room. “Before we start our lesson. Felix, a word.” He called onto me. I looked around to see everyone looking to my direction, most of them in shock. “Come now.” He said, walking out the room.

I hurried out to follow him somewhere. He didn’t bother looking back, and I just rushed to follow him. He finally stopped where there are barely no students around. He sat down by the window and stared at me. I just stared at him back, looking from his head to toe. He scuffed and gave me a short chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grinned.

“I- Uhm. Sorry, prof. I don’t swing-”

“Nah! I’m messing with you, man!” He laughed. “It’s me! Keith! Well, it’s Professor Keith for you now.”

My eyes widened. This man is Keith. It worked. I mean why am I so surprised right now? I’m the one who knows about this Diary App.

“I’m enjoying this knowledge so much! I know about A LOT of stuff I never knew before. So this is how it feels to be a professor.” He flexed, touched his muscles, and basically showed off. He pulled out an apple and tossed it around. “A students gave this to me today. I never received any offer from anyone.”

“You like it?” I asked him.

“I like it? I LOVE IT! Though, I might not stay like this forever, at least I don’t want to.” He replied.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” I asked him.

“Well... For now I want to enjoy being this kind of adult.” He answered.

He stopped for a while, running his fingers against his chin. He then took a bite from the apple he was holding, chewing it thoroughly, then swallowing.

“The reason why I’m asking your help is... I want to experience being different people for the whole week.”

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

[storiesforallfandoms]

sweet disaster ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1516

request?: yes!

@livingmybestfictionallife​ “Can I request a Colson fic where he and the reader have grown up together have been best friends since middle school and it's about them realizing they love each other, but based off Dreamers' Sweet Disaster?”

description: after waking up from a crazy night partying, two best friends since middle school reveal their feelings to one another

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol

based on this song

masterlist

My head was pounding and my body was stiff when I woke up. I groaned as I pulled myself to sit up. I realized I had passed out on the floor, so that explained the sore body.

On the floor next to me, Colson was still out cold. He was in just a pair of sweatpants, a normal occurrence when he got trashed. I grabbed a nearby pillow and hit his face. Colson immediately jumped awake, looking around the room in confusion before his eyes landed on me.

“What the fuck (Y/N)?” he asked.

“If I have to be up then so do you,” I retorted, bracing myself before pulling myself to stand.

“Go back to sleep,” he groaned, laying back and using the pillow to cover his face.

“I can’t, I have to vomit.”

Luckily, I didn’t vomit, but my stomach was still churning, so I grabbed a glass of water for my breakfast. I decided to be nice and get one for Colson, too. He’d definitely be super hungover, too.

When I got back to his room, Colson was sat up with his back against the foot of his bed, his hands cradling his stomach. I offered him the glass of water and he gratefully took it.

“Thanks,” he said. “There’s Aspirin in my bedside table.”

I grabbed two tablets for the both of us. I took the Aspirin and a mouthful of water. The minute the cold liquid hit my stomach, I could feel it churning again. I hoped whatever contents were in there would stay put throughout the whole day, but my history with hangovers definitely said otherwise.

I sat next to Colson on the floor as I waited for my stomach to settle again. “What the fuck did we do last night?”

“We got super drunk,” Colson responded. “And super high. I remember sharing an entire blunt.”

I groaned. “God, I’m awful when I’m high. Why would you let me smoke?”

“Cause it’s lame to be high alone.”

I rolled my eyes and rested my head on Colson’s shoulder. The night before came back in flashes and blurs; Colson and I drinking, sitting outside his house to smoke the blunt, playing video games while drunk and high, watching movies, having stupid debates on the movies.

Getting super drunk with Colson was nothing new. Whenever he had time off, we always got together to drink at least once, but last night was different. Last night we got party levels of drunk, as if it weren’t just the two of us hanging out together.

“Do you think either one of us posted anything embarrassing?” I asked. “We were drunk enough for that.’

“Oh man, we should check.”

We took a while to try and locate our phones, and once we did we sat ourselves back on the floor. I went through all my social media and all I found was a picture I had taken at the beginning of the night of Colson playing video games with my legs over his lap.

“This one’s cute,” I said, showing it to him. “But nothing embarrassing. And no embarrassing texts, thank God. I have too many exes on my phone.”

“You should get rid of those,” Colson pointed out. “I don’t have any notifications, so I didn’t post or tweet anything publicly. Let’s check my camera roll to see if there’s any pictures.”

I watched Colson’s face as he scrolled through his phone. I couldn’t hold back my laugh as I saw his face twist in shock at whatever he found. I extended my hand for his phone, trying to take it from him.

“Let me see! What is it?” I asked. Colson held his hand out so that I wouldn’t be able to reach. I pushed against him, trying to grab it from his hand. “Dude, we’ve been best friends for years, whatever it is I’m sure I won’t give a fuck.”

“It’s nothing, leave it alone, (Y/N),” Colson insisted.

What he forgot about me was that I was very stubborn. So, I pretended to let it go, and when Colson let his guard down, I grabbed his phone and took off for the bathroom. Colson raced after me, but I got to the bathroom before he did and locked the door behind me.

“That’s not funny, (Y/N)!” Colson called as he pounded on the door. “Let me in, give me my phone back!”

I sat with my back against the door and unlocked his phone. That was one of Colson’s biggest mistakes: trusting me with his phone password.

The picture he had been looking at popped up on the screen immediately and I audibly gasped. It was a picture of myself and Colson when we were obviously very trashed. I had my arms around his neck and I was kissing him deeply, while one of his hands was under my shirt, pressed firmly against my back and holding me to him.

I stared at the picture for a long time, wondering if that was the extent of what Colson and I had done the night before. My clothes were all on properly, and we didn’t wake up naked. But I really could not remember us doing that at all. It must happened when we had both gotten absolutely black out drunk.

I sat on the floor for a while, just looking at the picture. Why wouldn’t Colson want me to see it? Did he regret it? Did he want me to just forget that it happened? I felt a slight ache in my heart at the thought of this.

I finally pulled myself up off the floor and opened the door. Colson looked down at me with a look of worry on his face. “Did you look at it?”

I nodded. “Yeah...here.”

I passed him his phone back. He took it, hesitantly, still looking at my face.

“Delete it,” I told him. “If the picture causes that much trouble, you can just delete it.”

“Trouble?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“You obviously didn’t want me to see it for a reason. I don’t remember the kiss, I’ll forget the picture exists and you can delete it.”

Colson seemed shocked by my words. “What if I don’t want to delete it?”

I rolled my eye. “You’re not funny, Colson.”

“I’m not trying to be!”

I pushed past him into the room. I tried to remember what I had brought with me that night, but soon remembered that all I had was my clothes, phone, and the booze I brought. I shoved my phone into my pocket and made my way for the front door.

“(Y/N), seriously, what’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you so upset over the picture?”

“Why didn’t you want me to see it?” I asked him. “Are you ashamed that we kissed?”

“No! Of course I’m not ashamed. I was afraid that if you saw the picture, it would make things awkward between us and we’d stop being friends.”

I paused a moment, letting his words sink in. “Oh...well...yeah that makes sense.”

“It does. Why would me being ashamed of it make you this upset?”

I scoffed, trying to play off my real feelings. “No girl wants to be told that someone was ashamed to kiss them.”

Colson shook his head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Maybe there is, and maybe there’s more to you not wanting me to see the picture.”

We stood in silence for some time. With those vague sentences, there was a lot put out in the air between the two of us. I leaned against the wall behind me and looked up at Colson. My eyes were drawn to his lips and I wondered what it had felt like to kiss him the night before. I really wished I could remember it.

“How long?” I asked him first.

He knew what I meant immediately and responded, “Since middle school.”

My eyes widened and, before I could stop myself, my hand swung out to hit him in the arm. “What?! And you didn’t tell me?”

“Okay, ow,” he said. “And no, I didn’t tell you, because you were my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you so soon after I met you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve made some move or something. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

He chuckled at this and I couldn’t help but smile as well. “How long as you felt this way?”

“Also since middle school,” I responded.

“Why didn’t you make a move?”

“Because that’s the guy’s job!”

He playfully rolled his eyes at me and took me into his arms. I cuddled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent as he held me.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked.

“I think that’s up to you,” I told him. “Where do you want to go?”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Out with you, on a proper date.”

I smiled back. “You smooth motherfucker. Let me get sober, we’ll go out together.”

“Deal.”

[anistarrose]

Summary: Stan finds a recording from a fateful puppet show, a few disjointed memories fall into place, and the Pines family has some tense conversations.

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher (posthumously)

Set in early September, probably a little less than a week after Dipper and Mabel went home.

(It felt good to write some Stangst again! Title is from Monster Town by Go! Child because when I can't think of titles on my own, I go to my GF playlist for inspo, and that song jumped out at me today)

***

“We should probably bring a backup camera on the boat,” Ford mused, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether he was talking to Stan or just to himself. “Maybe even multiple backup cameras. There’s no telling what the Arctic climate could do to their circuitry, and people hardly take cryptid reports seriously even with photographic evidence, never mind with just an eyewitness account and an excuse about a broken camera —”

“Easy, Sixer.” Stan set down his fully-packed suitcase at Ford’s feet, satisfied with its contents. “I’ve got a camcorder up in my room, or maybe in — actually, I can’t remember where I decided to keep it, but it’s probably still in the house somewhere. If I can find it, you can add it to your camera horde.”

Ford zipped open Stan’s suitcase, revealing hand-knitted sweaters and Hawaiian shirts in approximately equal numbers, and sighed. “Some brave wardrobe choices you’re making here. Or have you forgotten that the first beach we’re stopping at is in Alaska?”

“Well, someone’s gotta lead the fashion revolution in the Arctic Circle, and it sure ain’t gonna be you,” Stan called as he headed upstairs, provoking a resigned “hrmph” from Ford.

Stan decided to look for the camcorder in his bedroom first — because while his memory still had some scattered gaps, his gut instincts rarely lead him astray, and checking his room had been his first impulse. Sure enough, he found it sitting on a shelf and covered in slightly less dust than the adjacent stack of magazines, just as he ever-so-vaguely remembered it.

“Better make sure this thing works, before Ford declares it too unreliable for yeti hunts or whatever,” he muttered to himself, leaning back onto his bed and fumbling for the power button. The camcorder blinked to life, presenting an interface that was probably hopelessly outdated — but Stan didn’t care, while Ford would have no way of knowing what modern Earth technology looked like.

What’d I even record on this thing anyway? He selected a random video from June, was greeted with his own voice singing the first line of the Stan Wrong Song, and immediately deleted the recording. With a sigh and silent vow to never let Ford learn of the song’s existence, he moved on to a video from July.

Once again, it was Mabel’s handiwork — heh, no wonder I couldn’t remember what I used this thing for, since the kids were always borrowing it from me — but this time, Stan himself wasn’t in frame, though the craft supplies strewn about the living room were enough to stir dormant memories.

“Dipper! Puppet Dipper! Smile for the camera!”

Dipper yawned, then somewhat half-heartedly mimicked the motion using the sock puppet on his hand. “Puppet Dipper’s not really feeling up to it this morning.”

“Did Puppet Dipper stay up too late trying to solve a mystery? Bwap!” The footage blurred as Mabel nudged Dipper with a sock puppet of her own. “Do I need to make him a little puppet-sized pillow?”

“How about… some puppet-sized sunglasses, for a puppet detective?” Dipper suggested.

“Good idea!” Mabel agreed. “Then no one will notice when Puppet Dipper falls asleep standing up!”

Stan shook his head and smiled.

Man, I wish I’d found this back when my memories were still a mess — Mabel kinda skimmed over the whole puppet saga in her scrapbook. Wonder what else got recorded from that week…

He selected the next video chronologically, noticing that it was also the final recording on the device, and the smile vanished from his face.

“You can’t stop me!” It was Dipper’s voice, yet not Dipper’s voice — all fury and arrogance, and the camcorder’s cheap speaker crackled with static, like the voice was too much, too wrong, too alien to properly record and then replicate. “I’m a being of pure energy with NO weaknesses!”

Without a doubt, Dipper’s body was onscreen, but he was staggering towards Mabel with arms twisted at impossible angles. He lunged for the journal in her hands, eyes glinting the same gold color as the emblem of the six-fingered hand —

Stan hit the power button, rolled over on the bed, and buried his face in his pillow as the wave of memories crashed into him.

Brushing off Dipper’s sorry state as sleep deprivation, until the kid collapsed on the way out of the theater. Seeing the cuts and bruises all over Dipper’s hands as Stan helped him to his feet, and grilling the kids on what happened the whole drive to the hospital. Not getting an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Not being able to give the doctor an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Telling the twins’ parents it was just “sleep deprivation.”

A tense phone call, assuring Mr. and Mrs. Pines that Dipper’s recovery would be swift and tha Gravity Falls was still safe for their children. Stan’s hands shaking as he holds the phone, having no idea if that’s the truth, if he’s doing the right thing.

Mabel crying over a crumpled-up scrap of paper — a note? — she’d found in the car, and refusing to show it to Stan. Half-overheard secrets, whispered between the younger twins when they think Stan isn’t paying attention — apologies, worries, and murmurs too soft to be in any way decipherable.

Dipper, still with bags under his eyes, spending the next few days doing almost nothing but looking over his shoulder and burying his head in the journal. Stan pretending not to notice, but secretly finding it far too familiar for comfort.

Later memories, too — memories of demons, and handshakes, and feeling his body go numb. Memories of a voice, a furiously shrieking voice — both terrified and terrifying, but more than anything, alien.

Now, far too late, Stan recognized it.

***

“We’re calling the kids,” Stan barked, barging back downstairs, and Ford jumped.

“What’s wrong? Are your memories —”

“Better than they’ve ever been, actually.” Stan stormed directly to the living room table, flipping open the laptop on loan from Soos and clicking the video chat app. “Good enough to figure out something that apparently no one thought it might be important to tell me!”

“Are you sure?” Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “We can still call them, but let’s talk this through first, make sure you’re not missing any gaps —”

Stan paused, cursor an inch away from the call button beneath Dipper and Mabel’s profile picture. “Did Dipper tell you about the time Bill possessed him?”

Ford started to say something, stopped, and tried again. “I… I assumed you knew. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know I ended up taking him to the goddamn hospital afterwards?”

“No,” Ford whispered, and Stan felt Ford’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “Call the kids, Stan.”

Mabel must’ve been online, because she picked up almost immediately. The video opened with her sitting in her kitchen in Piedmont, Waddles in her lap. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Guess what I —”

The joy drained out of her smile when she noticed her grunkles’ grave expressions. “What’s going on?”

“Mabel, pumpkin,” Stan murmured, trying to tune out the sound of his heart thumping in his chest, “could you go get your brother?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Dipper slid into view, almost falling off his chair, and Mabel scooted out of the way so they could both comfortably face the laptop. “Is something wrong?”

“Not anymore,” Ford explained, “but Stan and I wanted to talk about… communication, among other things — Stan? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead and shuddered, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he stared at the computer.

Dipper’s back home. Dipper’s safe. They’re both safe, and they’ll never have to worry about Bill again.

“Stanley?” Ford echoed, increasingly distressed. “Please, if —”

“I’ll be alright,” Stan managed, because even he wasn’t a good enough liar to convince anyone he was alright at this exact moment. “Promise. But kids, why didn’t you tell me when Bill hijacked your puppet show?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a guilty look.

“Was it because you thought I’d take away the journal?” Stan regretted his ‘only self-defense’ stipulation for the third journal more than almost anything else he’d said that summer, because he’d always known deep down that it wouldn’t stop the kids — and in hindsight, he would’ve much rather known what trouble the kids were getting into, not have them hide it from him with their late nights out in the woods and nonspecific excuses.

“At first,” Dipper replied. “But we ended up worrying a whole lot more about you sending us home early —”

“Your parents almost made that decision for me,” Stan admitted. “They were ready to drive up here and come get you when they heard what happened. I dunno how I convinced them to let you stay —”

He sighed. “And maybe knowing the truth wouldn’t have actually helped me that time — but it would’ve been nice to know how big a lie I was telling when I told them this town was safe for you kids, y’know?”

He regretted voicing that thought immediately, but regretted it even moreso when Dipper looked away from the camera, mumbling: “I’m sorry, Grunkle Stan.”

“Stan’s not trying to guilt you,” Ford spoke up, “but we want you to know you can talk about these things honestly with us — and that goes for both of you, Dipper and Mabel. We’d never want to punish you for something that was obviously… someone else’s fault.”

Thank god one of us has finally learned to think through what we say before we say it, Stan figured.

“I’m sorry too, kids,” he added out loud. “For getting angry at you a minute ago — ‘cause I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at Bill for what he got away with right behind my back, and I… I just…”

He brushed a finger across their digital faces, a gesture that no doubt failed to translate to the video feed Dipper and Mabel were viewing, and smiled. “Thanks for picking up so fast, ‘cause I really needed a reminder that the two of you are safe and sound and all.”

The kids smiled back, visible for just a second before Mabel leaned forward to hug her laptop and the screen went dark.

“Anytime, Grunkle Stan.”

***

“Coffee?” asked Ford, ever the early riser, as Stan trudged into the kitchen the next morning. “You look like you need it.”

“Gee, thanks, Sixer,” Stan groaned, slumping into the seat across from Ford at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard of backhand compliments, but now I’ve gotta live with your backhanded coffee offers too?”

“Sorry. I’m sympathizing, not mocking — I promise, when I woke up today, my eyes were just as bloodshot as yours are now,” Ford replied, sliding Stan a mug of steaming coffee. “How are your memories?”

It was a routine question as of late, but Stan still managed to botch it completely.

“Too good,” he muttered under his breath, and earned a quizzical look from Ford.

“Pardon?”

“…Good enough that I can remember all kinda things to feel shitty about,” Stan reluctantly admitted. “Like not even noticing when Dipper was possessed, for one thing. I spent the whole summer worrying about him, except for when he was actually in danger —”

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford sighed, “that’s not your fault. You know Bill was an expert liar; he scammed too many people to count —”

“Yeah, but I shoulda seen through it!” Stan brought his fist down on the table, and the contents of his mug sloshed precariously close to the top. “Of all people, I should’ve known better —”

“Right.” Ford grimaced. “Right. Because no one else who should’ve known better was ever tricked by a dream demon for a whole lot longer than a few hours —”

“Shit. Ford, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like —”

With a controlled glowering expression and deliberate motions, Ford stood, marching across the kitchen with all the fury and hesitation of a slow-moving thunderstorm.

“I didn’t mean it was your fault! I’d never — ”

“…I know.” Ford came to a halt at the door, bracing one hand against the frame. “But if you can say as much about me, then… then why can’t you just say that about yourself?”

“What?!”

“You would’ve caught on soon enough, if Mabel hadn’t defeated Bill when she did — I wasn’t there, but I’m sure of that because I know you, and I know how well you know Dipper.” Ford shook his head. “I didn’t catch on to Bill’s lies for years. I gave him free reign to hurt people for so much longer than one evening —”

He crossed his arms, and his imposing silhouette in the doorway seemed to shrink.

“So if you’re not blaming me for anything to happen this summer, then you’d better not blame yourself, you — you knucklehead.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stan leapt out of his seat. “It’s no wonder you didn’t see through Bill’s lies, when your whole life, you had me watching your back — and then I wasn’t there for you, when you needed me more than ever —”

“Because I pushed you away!” Ford shouted, whirling back around to face him. “Do you know what I realized while I was trying to fall asleep last night? That if I’d just stood up to Dad when he kicked you out, if I’d just done the right thing for once in my formative years, then the end of the world as we knew it would’ve been averted altogether! No falling for Bill’s flattery, no arguing over the zodiac, no Weirdmageddon! We could’ve had it all, but we just couldn’t live in that better world, all because I convinced myself you were suffocating me —”

“But it sounds like maybe I still am, huh?” Stan growled. “If all I do is just make you furious like this —”

“No,” Ford gasped, all the hostility in his voice and his glare immediately melting away. “No, no, absolutely not! I’m not furious at you, Stan, I’m…”

“Furious at yourself,” Stan accused, “for being even worse than me?!”

“No! Don’t even say that!”

Before Stan could process what was happening, much less protest it, Ford was hugging him, burying his face in Stan’s shoulder.

“Maybe — maybe I am angry at you, after all,” Ford admitted, “but you’re my hero, Stanley. My inspiration. If am angry with you, it’s — it’s just because you’re too damn stubborn to forgive yourself…”

Stan gingerly placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “…Yeah, and you’re one to talk.”

“I won’t deny that,” Ford mumbled. He went quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke up again, his voice was quieter, yet slightly more composed. “Maybe we need to just… call a truce. Find something positive to agree on. We’re both too stubborn for this argument to end with either of us admitting we were wrong —”

“At least for give-or-take the next forty years,” Stan interrupted, punctuating his words with a bitter laugh.

Ford barked out a laugh of his own, loud and cathartic, and withdrew from the hug, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “If Dipper and Mabel were here, they would have told us to stop being stubborn old men a while ago. I wish they were here.”

“They’d probably also tell us it’s more Bill’s fault than either of ours,” Stan added. “And… I guess they’d have a point.”

“I can see the logic in that.” Ford smiled faintly. “I’m sorry for making this about me, by the way. You opened up to talk about your own issues, and I —”

“Hey, I made it about you just as much as you did, Brainiac,” Stan reminded him. “…But damn. You think we’ll ever be able to talk about our feelings without shouting our lungs out at each other?”

“We’re still no good at thinking through anything before we say it,” Ford replied, “though I guess we must be getting a little better, since we didn’t even stop speaking to each other this time.”

“Thank god. I’m tired of not talking to you.”

The two of them settled back into their seats at the table, and Stan reached for the morning paper, but Ford spoke up once more.

“I know forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness, can be… complicated,” he told Stan in a low voice, “so maybe I’m biased, speaking as someone who’d rather not grapple with my own personal guilt — but even more important than whether you forgive or blame yourself, I think, is acknowledging that you made mistakes, yet still deserve good things from the universe. And that goes for you and me both.”

Stan took a sip from his mug, pleased to find its contents were still warm. “Good things like coffee, and adventures sailing around the world?”

Ford chuckled. “My priorities exactly.”

[diamond-blush]

An anon had asked me about how I made my Taran gifset, so I just decided to make a quick post about my GIF making process in general. This is my first time doing a tutorial like this, so sorry if anything is unclear ;; 

Quick Note: I’m using Photoshop 2020, so if you’re using a different version some things might be different!

Now on to the tutorial!

GW2Hook

I personally use GW2Hook for my game. It really enhances the graphics and is very easy to use once you get the hang of it! For installation and usage, I recommend Tekkit’s guide here. (Skip to 2:25 if you just want to know how to install). Be sure to read the pinned comment for download instructions!

Recording

I record my footage with Nvidia ShadowPlay, which from my knowledge only works with a Nvidia video card, but any free recording software works just fine (A good one is Dxtory; I used it for years). I prefer ShadowPlay because of the option to record the last 5 minutes (you can make the time longer) of gameplay with its Instant Replay feature (lifesaver for me because I get distracted a lot and forget to hit record lmao). Once I’ve got my footage, I import it to Photoshop.

Importing into Photoshop

A lot of people use the File > Import > Video Frames to layers method to import their images because it immediately converts them to frames. Since I like to make adjustments to my layers before I convert them, I prefer using the video timeline method. Basically you drag and drop your video into Photoshop and it’ll show up as a video timeline like below:

Here I trim my footage to where I want it to begin and end, and then I use the Crop Tool to crop it down to a smaller size. I usually use 540px width for my gifs because otherwise Tumblr makes them super blurry, but it depends on what type of gifset you’re making. I use the GIF sizing guide here. (Note that the new GIF size limit is 8mb now, not 3mb).

Smart Filters

As I mentioned before, I prefer the timeline method because it makes adding adjustments to footage super easy. When you drag your video directly into Photoshop as a video timeline, it automatically turns your video into a Smart Object. This basically allows you to make any edits to your footage without the fear of messing anything up! As shown below, each effect, or Smart Filter, you add is listed under your Smart Object.

Here’s a quick breakdown of Smart Filter Options:

hides/shows your filter.

Lets you adjust the opacity of your filter. Great if you want to tone down a filter’s effects.

Double clicking a Smart Filter’s name (I.E. Smart Sharpen) lets you go back into that filter’s settings and make changes.

See? With no damage to your original image/video!

Adjustments

I try to do most of my coloring ingame with GW2Hook, but I do like using Curves to add more contrast and Exposure to change highlights and midtones.

Filters/Adjustments I often use for GIFs are Smart Sharpen, Gaussian blur, and sometimes Lens Correction. I add Smart Sharpen first to make my image more crisp. Next I use Gaussian blur, which I set to between 25-35% (sometimes more, depends on the image/gif) opacity to add a little bit of smoothness. I use Lens correction whenever I want to add a vignette effect. Usually after adding the latter two Smart Filters I go back and adjust Smart Sharpen.

Converting to GIF

Once I’m satisfied with my adjustments, I’m ready to convert my video to a frame animation. I click on the three lines icon (located on top right of timeline) and then hover over the Convert Frames option. I click on these options in the following order: Flatten Frames into Clips, Make Frames From Clips, and Convert to Frame Animation. Like below:

This basically converts each frame of your video into layers, puts them into a frame sequence, and then converts your timeline into a frame animation as shown below:

For some reason the first two frames are always blank for me (not shown in above picture), but I just simply delete them.

Now I adjust my frame delay amount. This determines how fast or slow your gif is. You can do so by clicking on the numbers that show below each frame. For consistency, you should make sure all of your frames are selected (either shift + click the first and last frame, or go to the three line icon again and click on “select all frames”) before changing the delay amount.

Tip: use the up and down arrow keys to set the delay in the above window. Much quicker than typing!

I prefer using 0.03-0.05 because otherwise I find the gif is either too fast or too slow/choppy, but you should mess with it ‘till you find what you like.

I like to preview my GIF by going to File > Export > Save As Web (Legacy) and clicking the Preview button at the bottom left corner. This’ll open up a browser window that displays your GIF in all its sexy glory and its information (dimensions, size, # of frames, etc). Use this to test your GIF speed and adjust as needed!

If I feel satisfied with my GIF and it doesn’t exceed 8MB (Tumblr’s current GIF limit), I go back to the Save for Web window and hit Save (I usually don’t mess with the stuff on the right). If you do exceed the size limit, either reduce your frames (one method is to delete every second frame; however this makes the gif less fluid due to loss of frames) or tone down the colors.You can check your GIF size where the circle is.

Annnd that’s basically my GIF making process. Hope it helps someone!

[familiaanteomnia]

Parents were off on an date, older sister at some friend’s house and so whole estate was empty save for the two of them. Thus Xav’s feet darted, flinging his twin’s door open and aiming for the bed. overshooting, onto his back on the floor. “I- don’t acknowledge me.” Listening to the laugh, his twin’s face appearing over the edge of the bed. “Dumbass, you’re okay though right?” “Might live but first ahhhh my right liver ahhh it hurts ahhh it’s imploding.” Xav groaned only slightly paying attention to the eye rolls and smile on the other’s face. “Promise me- you’ll look after my stuffed animals, and and uhh bury me with grape soda.” Sticking his tongue out as just laid there in fake death. Committing so much that only after the blanket fell over him rolled over trying to get it off much to the muffled laughter. “What sort of corpse gets tangled up in an blanket.” Xav finally freed his head well aware of his static charged messed up hair. Thinking before freeing himself in a quick blur tackling his brother. Bit of an panic that they would topple off, onto the other side but they didn’t Nathan just pushed at him gently. “Dork.” “Dork adjacent- uh that was bad stop laughing!” ---- “I look so dumb.” Nathan looked at his face quickly reaching for the makeup wipes, that were swiped away. “You said I could get one picture Nateee.” That pouting face looking at him with his camera in hand. “Can wipe it off and once print the photo out for me, delete it we don’t ever have to speak of this again... I didn’t even goof off this time.” Sighing as took the camera to fiddle with the settings before gently offering it back. “Okay kiddo.” Watching as tongue stuck out childishly, laughing unaware that’s when the picture was snagged. Few moments before his twin extended out an makeup wipe. “Thank you Nate.” Arms wrapped around him in an hug. Clear warning and ability to avoid it if didn’t want it. Instead hugging back with one arm messing up his twin’s hair. “Uh huh you dweeb never again.” “Ifff youuu say sooo.” ---- Bouncing in boots was quite an feat yet here Xav was- glaring at his twin. “Come on come on before mom and dad change their mind- I wanna go adopt stuffed animals at the thrift store.” Like any more minutes and would just drag his twin with. Anymore fussing over appearance, sure understood but didn’t mean enjoyed the waiting. So when saw the shoes getting putting on bounded down the stairs. The walk there full of photo taking, Xav on the skateboard enjoying fresh air. “So high school huh.” Gliding an ways just watching his twin. “You know I’ll totally eff up some bullies for you.” Sensitive subject. The whole summer had felt rather weird in many ways. Not to mention the growing feeling that would be running away soon. “Yep. Also no offense but what you going to steel tip h.ello kitty most the town’s population for me? How.” “I could! They can all fight me.” Improper little fists that got an gentle smack on the arm from his twin hardly an smack. “Don’t worry about it, so you aren’t getting any possibly demon inhabited new adoptions right.” “R-right yeahh. No no I swear Nate.” At the look he got for clearly joking, realizing it was an joke and scoffing sitting on the board an moment. “I refuse to move until you say sorry.” Feeling an shoe on the back of the board. Oh- as Nate kicked off kinda slightly on the edge of the board. “You’re the impatient one, besides forgot on a movable object here.” Xav stole the camera from his twin as an idea came to mind. Precariously managing to get an shot of them together. Once at the store, trying to take everything home and being told to limit his selection. Pouting an bit. Listening to the awkward conversation as his brother talked with somebody. Deep breath before walking up stuffed animals cradled in arms. “I need your wallet.” Watching as Nate handed it over before rushing off to the counter trying to ignore the inquiry of aw whose that. Once out Xav held an stuffed rabbit who had lost its ears in front of his face. “Thank you for funding these creatures getting an new home.” Feeling it removed gently from his hands. “Can’t believe you spent your allowance on fruit snacks.” “I take them seriously- you get to name the rabbit by the way.” “Uh why me?” “Just pick an name pretty please.” “Okay- uh Achilles.” “Achilles? huh okay sure.”

[taehyungsgrowl]

Perdón y Lo Siento - Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey y’all! While I have a hundred WIPs (including sugar babies stuff and FDK) I’ve decided to uhh further procrastinate and start a different fic. 

Basically, I’m sitting in the dark listening to “Rosie” by John Mayer and got in my feelings. It’s a great song! Title comes from the lyrics.

Plot: Jim decides to visit his ex. Even if it’s just for one more night.

Warnings: angst. smut. cheating. not being over an ex lmfao. alcohol use. mostly soft smut. there’s some dirty talk. spanking. 

The bright moon illuminated his room as Jim laid in the dark comfort of his empty bed. 

Another dream of her. 

Her soft skin, her airy laughter, her touch. 

Her.

He scrolled through the pictures he had saved on his phone from his time with her. Time and time again he told himself he’d delete them, but he could never quite erase the memory of her. 

Of them.

12:22 a.m. 

“Fuck it,” he groaned out as he got out of bed. He let his feet drag him to the bottle of her favorite wine he still kept in the back of his fridge. Just in case. 

Just in case she ever wandered through his door again. 

It wasn’t like Jim hadn’t tried to move on from Y/N. Y/N had moved on from him; that alone was enough to make the pit of his stomach burn. He should be over her, but he wasn’t. 

He let the sweet cherry wine stain his lips and blur his thoughts. Drinking straight from the bottle he thought about the way her favorite lipstick matched the wine he drank. 

1:46 a.m.

Jim found himself buzzed off of yearning feelings and tinted wine. He sat in the back of an Uber outside her house. The driver cleared his throat for Jim to get out of the car as he stared longingly at her home. The cold rain pattered on the window heavily. The heavy rain mimicked the way his heart was pounding in this chest.

A home she was building with someone else.

Jim took a deep breath as he tapped his knuckles on the door. He knew she was home alone since his car wasn’t in her drive way. 

Y/N heard her phone buzzing from her nightstand. She saw Jim’s name flash on her screen. Her heart sank seeing the contact photo she still had for him; Jim in their favorite diner with the morning light making his blue eyes look as blue as the ocean. 

She knew he’d only call at this time if it were important. 

“Hello? Jim?” Jim’s heart skipped a beat as he heard her sleep coated voice over the phone. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N, come get the door for me.” he tipped forward, resting his forehead on her door.

“What?” she sat up reaching for the switch on her bedside table. 

“Please, Y/N. I - I need you,” he tried not sound so desperate, but truth is, he was. It was the desperation that drove him there. 

Y/N grabbed a cardigan and threw it over her tank top and shorts she slept in. She looked like what she would describe as a mess, but it was Jim she was seeing - and she’s never really felt as comfortable around anyone like she did with Jim. 

Even if they weren’t together, it didn’t just erase all of their history. 

“Jim.”she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. 

“Y/N.” Her name felt familiar on his lips. 

“I miss you,” his hand grabbed hers. He didn’t dare break away his eyes from her. He felt lost in them. 

She began to shake her head ‘no.’ As much as she felt the emotions tugging at her heart she knew it was wrong. She was with someone new. 

Jim and Y/N could both recognize the fire that had drawn them together - neither one was sure if it ever ended. 

For them, it was the right person at the wrong time. 

Y/N felt like Jim needed more than she could offer. It’s not that she didn’t love Jim. Because she did. She just needed to take care of herself before she could take care of him in the way he needed. 

A cold shiver ran down Jim’s spine. Despite the cold rain hitting his back, he felt warm to be in her presence again. 

“Jim you should go home,” she spoke softly, dropping her hand from his. 

“I had a dream about you.” Jim blurted out, feeling like he was losing her all over again, “It’s why I’m here,” he took a step forward. 

“I’m sorry, Jim.” Y/N started to step back, but Jim put his hand on the doorframe to keep her from shutting the door on him. 

“Please, baby.”

Baby. 

She paused for a moment blinking back tears she didn’t realize she had. 

“Shit. Sorry, Y/N. Y/N.” He corrected himself, “Just let me in.”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” She could convinced herself to let him in. At least until he’s completely sober, she told herself. 

Jim followed her inside. Not much had changed since that last time he was there. Her home still smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and her plants were still withering away. 

He sat at her table as she wandered through the kitchen starting a pot of coffee. Watching her move around her home reminded him of how things used to be; reminded him of early morning dances in the kitchen and late night conversations of what the future would hold. 

Y/N handed Jim his mug before she took a sip of her own drink. 

Why was he here? 

Why did she not feel as bad as she knew she should for having her ex over at two in the morning? 

She knew the answer to both those questions, but it was easier to pretend she didn’t. Even if just for a little. 

Y/N looked down at her cup, avoiding Jim’s heavy gaze. 

“Where is he?” Jim tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it rang clearly in her ears. 

She paused. Weighing out her response. “Why does it matter?” 

“I guess it doesn’t, huh?” 

Another pause. 

“Are you happy?” his voice was quiet like he almost didn’t want to be heard. He noticed Y/N look up from her drink; finally meeting his eyes. 

Her heart was racing in her chest. She let out a long sigh, steadying herself. “Why are you here, Jim?” her head shook in slight disapproval. 

“I wanted to see you.” his held his mug tightly, letting the hot ceramic warm his cold hands. 

“At 2:00 a.m.” it wasn’t a question. 

Jim licked his lips, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a slight smile. “I had a dream about you.” Images of her body pressed against his flashed in his mind again. The silky tune of her moans lingered in his head. He got up from his seat and stood behind her. One hand on her hip, the other reaching for her hand. His lips were dangerously close to her ear, she could feel his warm breath on her neck. 

“You were in my bed.” he pushed her cardigan off her shoulder, placing a kiss on it. “We were like we used to be.”

“Do you miss me?” his nose nuzzled her arm, inhaling her sweet fragrance. Even if Y/N didn’t want to have a reaction to Jim - she did. 

Every fiber in her body her burning - yearning, for his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from relaxing back against his chest, letting his hand roam up and down her side. 

“We can’t.” she said, but leaned her head back allowing Jim access to her neck. 

Jim’s hand traveled up her neck and to her chin, turning her head to make her look up at him. “Do you miss me?” he repeated the question with so much more intensity.

He felt her head nodding against his hand. She turned around, her back pressed to the counter as Jim cornered her in. He cupped her face and smashed his lips to hers. All the longing was melting between their mouths as he tasted her lips again. 

Y/N kissed him back lost in his touch. The back of her mind compared the way their kiss differed from the ones her boyfriend gave her. The sudden thought of him entering her mind made her shove against Jim’s chest reluctantly. 

“Just tonight. Give me one more night.” Jim pleaded. He felt hallow without her, but that had always been his problem. Y/N couldn’t fill all his voids, but the spot she filled made him happy. 

The lump in his throat throbbed but he didn’t go all the way there to cry. 

She knew him well enough to feel an ache of her own. Despite all his flaws - all their flaws, she loved him. That wouldn’t change. 

“Just tonight.” she whispered so quietly, she almost didn’t hear herself. 

Y/N got out from between Jim and her counter and walked to her room, looking over her shoulder to make sure Jim followed her. And of course he did. 

He always did.

Again, Jim was content with seeing how little her room had changed in the period they were apart. Y/N bent down to pick up a mens shirt that was discarded on the floor. A sheepish look on her face crossed when Jim saw her begin to hide it in a pile of her clothes. He took her hand, shaking his head, letting her leave the shirt where it was. 

A silent reminder that this was just for one night. 

The room buzzed with anticipation as they both lingered around the bed. “No need to be nervous. It’s just me, remember?” Y/N wanted to freeze this moment - this night, for forever. 

“I know,” she stayed still. 

“Just me.” Jim leaned in to kiss her, hands on her waist. “And you,” he squeezed down on her sides making a giggle erupt out of her. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” she rolled her eyes, a hint of a lingering on her lips. 

Jim placed his finger at the center of her lips, “Shh,” he pushed her down on the bed, starting to climb over her, “Enough of that. Just you and me.”

He started to kiss her neck. Plush lips traveled to her chest that rose up and down. The temperature in the room began to rise despite the cold January rain outside.

“I missed you,” she admitted aloud for the first time that evening. She grabbed his face and pulled him away from her chest to kiss his lips. He smiled into the kiss. Jim relived his dream. 

Y/N (with some support from Jim) flipped them around so she could sit on his thighs. He hastily peeled off her top, throwing it across the room. Him couldn’t tear his eyes away from her body. If this were the last night, the last opportunity he got, he wanted to use it to memorize every curve and every dip of her body. 

She began to grind herself down on his lap. Her thin little shorts were close to no barrier from his growing bulge. Jim let his head fall back on the pillow as Y/N continued to feel his hardening cock tease her pussy.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he dragged his fingers down the side of her torso, watching as the goosebumps raised on her skin.

Y/N raised her hips and Jim helped her tug her shorts off along with her panties. Jim’s pants quickly followed. She sat back down on his lap, his hard length nestled between her glistening folds. She slowly moved up and down his length, teasing herself and Jim before he even entered her. 

He dug his fingers into her hips, stopping her mid-track. “I can’t take anymore teasing.” he rasped. “I need to be inside you.”

Y/N leaned down to kiss him, pulling away with a bite to his lower lip. 

She grabbed his cock at the base and began to jerk him in her palm a few times before aligning her entrance with it. His head opened her up and she slowly sank down on him. She hissed quietly at how the stretching ached. 

“Fuck,” she cursed. He was not even all the way inside her pussy when she began to rock her hips, helping him ease into her. 

“God, baby.” he choked out.

She missed this. More than she thought. She missed Jim.

His blissed out expression beneath her. The way he knew exactly where to place his hands. How he made her feel complete in more than one way. 

“Feels so good.” her nails dug into his chest when his tip finally brushed against her cervix; she sat snugly on the entire stretch of his cock.

“Move for me, baby.” he began to guide her hips. He got her started, but he really wanted this to be her show. 

The wet sounds that filled the room as she bounced down on his cock were enough to almost intoxicate Jim. Skin slapped together found a pace that worked for her. 

Y/N could feel every inch, every vein, being hugged tightly by the walls of her dripping cunt. 

“You’re so tight.” he growled, “Does he even fuck you right?” Jim’s hand smacked down on her ass when she began to pick up the pace.

She was way passed the point of forming coherent sentences; Y/N was rapidly chasing her orgasm to the tune of her moaning and whimpering. 

“Keep going. C’mon, cum for me.” he bucked his hips up me meet the roll of her own. 

His guiding words help send her over the edge. Her body convulsed and pulsed around his cock, edging him closer. 

Y/N crumbled around him, cumming all over him. Watching the way her eyes rolled back and her chest bounced along with her was enough to make him’s throbbing member explode inside her.

He groaned out her name as he spilled himself into her pussy. Her grinding and bouncing became sloppier and sloppier until she came to an exhaustion, making her collapse on his chest when he slipped out of her. 

Jim held her there. On his chest, he held his whole world. 

For just one night.

He gently laid her on her side of the bed and pulled the covers up over them. “I love you,” she mumbled around her yawn, letting her heavy eyelids close. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back. 

Jim laid her bed, in another man’s spot, watching her sleep as he dreaded the morning sun that would wash away their night. 

But he held no regrets. Jim replayed that last few hours from his lonely night in his apartment to being back in bed with her. 

6:23 a.m.

Jim wasn’t able to recall when he lost his battle with sleep and passed out. The warm sun of a new day broke through the window of Y/N’s room woke him up. The familiarity of waking up in her room panged his heart. 

Y/N was still sleeping peacefully. Her lips were pursed in a perfect pout as she dreamed of Jim.

Jim stood up and quietly redressed himself. He leaned down to kiss her forehead; leaving before she woke up. He left her with the memory of one more night and dreams of him.

--yeehaw--

is this trash? probably. but this has been one of my most played songs since 2017 so it was bound to inspire something. 

tagging: @langdonswhoreprobably @langdonsdemon @hecohansen31 @1-800-bitchcraft @moonanonwriting @xavierplympton @getdevils @lvngdvns @divinelangdon @fckinsupreme @angel-langdon @plsfuckmelangdon @leatherduncan @michael-langdon-appreciation @lathraios @coollangdon @rocketgirl2410 @desertsunflower00 @satcnas @duncvns @maso-xchrist  @ritualmichael @daydreamingofcody @kiwi-0497 @sammythankyou @lovelylangdonx @itsaticklekink @wickedlangdon @emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @asiafern @blackredrose27​ @psychowriter2702​ @angxlbaby666​ @discocalico​ @miss-diamonds​ @langdonsblood​ @antichristsxbox​ @letnaturebefree​ 

[unohanadaydreams]

Scenario for rose having a reunion with a previous lover who's now a high ranked officer in their respective squad? Like, they were always this shy little thing and now they're a powerful (maybe lieutenant?) Officer. Idk, it's something if, but definitely understand if you just go "nah, I'm good" Anyways, love your blog ❤️

this is really cute, though! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡ Also, sorry this was a bit different than the request! I thought about cutting out some of the beginning, but reader sort of stole my heart. Shy to bitter charas make me sorta swoon lmao.

Rose Otoribashi:

“He’s sort of embarassing,” your 15th seat said, grimacing at the phone in her hand. “I mean….this design.”

You deposited your own into the home-sewn pocket of your hakama with a shrug. “It’s just a phone!”

“Yeah, an ugly one.” She knocked your shoulder with a fist. “He’s not here, ya know–no need to spare him!”

Her twirl toward the door caused a few papers to abscond from your desk, fluttering to the tatami mat, and you scoffed, calling after her, “Grab me a bento on your way back or I’ll write you up for misconduct!”

“Aye, aye, lieutenant!”

You should’ve gone back to work, kept your eyes trained on the rukongai patrol reports and gotten out of the office at a reasonable time. Definitely should’ve ignored the heavy weight of your pocket burning against your thigh, instead of leaving papers scattered about and depositing your to pen to rest in the ink pot.

But….

The (admittedly pretty tacky) flip phone clicked open audibly as you navigated to your saved pictures, quickly tapping past the first few silly selfies you’d taken for friends.

You grinned at the screen as the next picture revealed a huddle of Men’s Association members posing hunched and serious faced around you–Captain Iba had insisted they assemble to meet you after you’d been announced his lieutenant for a “cool” commemorative photo. Your cheeks had been near numb from smiling by the time you’d collapsed into bed. Maybe in hindsight it was a bit cringey, but you’d been too ecstatic to feel embarrassed then–especially since you’d been led to a particularly bitchin’ party at some 11th division bar directly after.

As far as your captain’s taste in phones? Well. It would take a lot more than a displaced sense of design to get you bad mouthing your Captain.

Honestly! You had yet to even say a word against your ex. And if anyone deserved a bit of your ire then it was him.

You scrolled down, almost to the beginning of your photos, to a picture of him. His long hair and serene face made your chest tight. Fingers blurred as they strummed his (favorite) guitar, he’d been reclining against a wall and his smile was just enough to charm without meaning much.

Memory of that day clear, you chuckled bitterly; you’d been such a mouse back then, willingly let him tug you any which where despite the long, sleepless work nights and missed training time it’d cost you. Not that you could really blame him for all of it. You’d had a voice back then. It wasn’t his fault you’d been too scared to open your mouth until he was gone.

The thought to delete this memento and the other–the one where his arm was casually draped about you while you blushed, his arm visibly angling the camera high enough to capture both of you in it–had often crossed your mind. And when you were upset, when things got a little too rough or you had one too many shots, you almost did.

But, god, if the way he was smiling tenderly in the second picture, his eyes warm and buttery and really looking at you, didn’t stop you every time.

With a harsh snap, you closed the screen and shoved your phone back where it belonged.

You had understood why he hadn’t tried to see you before, when Seireitei was constantly at war after war, but now there was peace (and weddings, for fuck’s sake!!) and he still kept away. The thought that maybe he didn’t find you notable enough to track down had your hands slamming the desk as you shook your head like a dirty eared dog.

You were being so dumb!

Still peering longingly at your phone, day in and day out, when you should’ve been working–should’ve been doing your best to prove you were solid lieutenant material!

Like an idiot.

You groaned. Picked up your pen.

And proceeded to last about twenty minutes before giving up, your head settling over sheaves of long dried ink.

“Ah,” a voice sounded from the door. “Perhaps I picked the wrong time to visit, after all.”

Air struggled to fill your lungs as your mind processed that voice.

“Rose?”

He was holding an extraordinary large bento in his arms. “I have always been quite the flower, yes.”

Mouth gaping at the side step, your face scrunched as you gathered yourself and scoffed. Why was he even here after all this time?

“I don’t get it.”

You stood and looked to the floor.

Oh, shit.

Face burning, you choked out an apology as you bent, gathering the sheets of paper and piling them back on the desk. The mortification tingled along your spine and made your limbs loose and heated. You’d always imagined your reunion going so much better. So much cooler.

There had always that expectation that he would pass you in a hallway or your eyes would meet across a bar and you would smile at him, bemused, before turning back to your division mates, your lieutenants badge glaring white and unmistakable.

Now you just seemed the eternal shy blunder, didn’t you?

Rose’s face was bemused–standing there all suave and frill collared and much too relaxed–when you turned around. You swallowed the ‘sorry for the mess’ that’d been forming on your tongue and squared your shoulders.

“What are you doing here?”

Shrugging and lifting the bento up in the same smooth motion, Rose’s smile softened. “I was hoping to catch you after a meeting, but you are quite the elusive woman.”

“My patrol itineraries are public.”

Placing the bento on the edge of your desk, his proximity felt uncomfortable, like you were being cornered. You bristled when his hand fell softly to your shoulder.

“Ah,” he hummed, letting his hand drop. “I see an enjoyable meal to ease the tensions wasn’t meant to be.”

You shook your head in assent. “No. I’d rather you just…say why you’re here.”

“I’d have liked to woo you more, but how can I say no to such surety?” He sighed, slipping a photo from breast of his captain’s robe and holding it out to after giving it a fond, buttery gaze himself.

“I felt a reunion in which I asked for another chance would’ve been in poor taste before I was certain I would live to be given one,” he said, still so facile even while exposing his vulnerability.

Eyes itchy and throat buzzing, you could only stare at the picture for a few moments–the one where he was angling the camera while staring at your face like it was the only thing that mattered. “I-it’s been an entire year. I’ve been a lieutenant for months!”

“Well,” he said, sheepish. “Every musician experiences stage fright now and then.”

You laughed, despite the swirl of emotions practically strangling you, and feigned searching the room.

“Where’s the music?”

“Hm, where indeed?” Rose’s hand eased onto your shoulder again, his other hand stowing the photo, and you made no move to displace it. “Do believe me. There’s nothing I yearn for more than the chance to lead you to it.”

And, with his eyes warm and buttery and really looking at you, you gestured to the bento, smile too soft to quite pull off bemused. “I’m pretty sure you have some tensions to ease, first.”

“With pleasure.”

[flokive]

lie to me II - Youngblood

description: part two of my internet bff au featuring ashton irwin // the fight between james and elisabeth left liz feeling lonely and numb. it doesn’t really help that her best friend, fletcher, really wants to know what happened and wants to help, even though he lives in australia and liz lives in europe...  writers note: yay! in honor of soft!ashton thursdays here’s the second chapter of lie to me :) don’t really have a lot to say, just a quick thank you to my loves @ashtonsos​ and @easierlftv​ for proof reading this <3 // enjoy! hope y’all like it, and, please, don’t worry... fletcher will be more prominent in the story soon...  wordcount: 1358

++

“Remember the words you told me, love me 'til the day I die Surrender my everything 'cause you made me believe you're mine Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me by name Takes one to know one You beat me at my own damn game”

---

                                                                                fletchersthoughts

liz? hello? well, you sure know how to get a man eager with anticipation…

...

umm, earth to liz? where are you?

…

ok, i’m starting to get worried. liz???

… 

liz, please just message me back. i have got to get some sleep, it’s almost 3am here… love you!!! bye

Liz has been sitting on the floor, numb and empty until her thoughts are interrupted by the smell of burning sauce. As quick as she possibly can, she jumps to her feet and turns off the stove, watching the steam escaping the now blackened pasta sauce. Too tired from the fight to clean up the kitchen mess, she leaves the saucepan on the stove, cracks the window to let the bad smell escape the kitchen, and plumps down on the couch, feeling numb and unable to do anything else. 

Liz jolts awake, the sudden movement making her wince. A quick glance at the clock informs her it’s 3 am, the outside world is dark and cold, apart from the spots on the street that are lit up by the street lights. The house is quiet, Liz calls for James, her voice echoes in their empty apartment, and no one responds. He’s still gone and she’s all alone again. A lonely yet guilty feeling washes over Liz as she closes her eyes and rubs her neck, trying to ease the pain caused by the weird sleeping position on the couch. As she slowly rises to her feet, a sad sob leaves her throat when she looks at the kitchen mess. Quickly she turns off the kitchen lights, trying to ignore the mess and the guilt that comes with it. If she just did something else this night, if she just ignored Fletcher this one time, none of this would’ve happened. In the dark, the apartment feels even colder than it did before, maybe even more terrifying than before. Liz rests her head against the doorframe that separates the kitchen with the hallway to their, maybe now only her, bedroom. When she slowly opens the door to the master, her eyes meet the mess James created. Clothes are flung everywhere, a picture frame lies on the ground, the glass shattered and James’ bedside table is cleared. With tears burning in her eyes she tries to pick up the pieces of the picture frame, carefully to let the sharp glass cut her hands, a sad sigh leaves her mouth when she puts the glass shards on her bedside table. She slowly seats herself down on the bed, holding her head between her hands. Salty tears stream down her face when she thinks about everything that’s been said and done. The thoughts if she could’ve done anything different re-enter her mind as she lays down, dragging her blanket over her head, trying to just forget the world for a moment. 

The first thing Liz does when she wakes up is checking her phone, wondering if James has sent any messages since their fight last night. Her inbox is empty, apart from Fletcher’s seven un-read messages she chose to ignore last night. She clicks on the bolded notification and reads them slowly, after staring at the words for a while she decides to not reply yet, not wanting to talk about the events of last night. Since it’s Saturday and Liz doesn’t have anywhere to go she ends up scrolling through her Tumblr dashboard. Reblogging every sad quote she reads. A small smile appears on Liz's face, remembering how her 17-year-old self would’ve been doing the exact same thing, laying in bed, scrolling endlessly through the same site, using it as some sort of coping mechanism. Her phone chimes and on top of her screen a new message from Fletcher appears. Liz closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and decides to finally reply.

                                                                                fletchersthoughts liz?? i see you reblogging, i know you read my messages so i KNOW you’re awake.  please just give me some sort of sign of life, please?

queenliz hey fletch im sorry busy night, james didn’t feel good returning from work we fell asleep early

The lies are bad and Liz feels guilty for lying to her closest friend but she just can’t handle talking and thinking about the events of last night. Her phone chimes again, knowing it’s Fletcher, she decides to ignore him once again. Hoping he would get the hint and leave her alone today. A rumbling sound from her tummy interrupts her thoughts, reminding her she hasn't eaten a thing since last night. Liz changes yesterday's clothes for some comfy leggings and a black crewneck sweater. Before leaving to get some breakfast, she washes the mascara stained tears away, grabs her wallet, and leaves the damned apartment. 

Liz makes her way to the local coffee shop, orders a big iced coffee, a freshly baked croissant and strolls back home. Whilst munching down on her breakfast she looks at the city waking up. The events from last night fresh in her brain Liz decides to take the long way home, through the park, trying to clear her brain and understand everything that happened last night.

Halfway home, Liz plumps down on a wooden bench and starts to pick apart the last bit of her croissant, throwing some it at some doves in front of her. The peaceful sounds of the park finally give her time to process the events of last night. Every word, every action that happens plays in slow-motion in her head, it’s like she’s watching a really bad movie but she can’t find the remote to switch the channels. A feeling of guilt and sadness gnaws in her brain when she thinks how badly she treated her best friend. How bad her lies were, how she bluntly ignored the man who has always been there for her. Slowly she takes her phone out of her pocket and opens the last unread message Fletcher send her, saying he doesn’t quite believe her, and she starts writing an apology.

queenliz so... you’re right, i kind of lied to you this morning… we didn’t really fell asleep early last night we had a fight, a horrible one, i might add i think  god fletch, i think we broke up.. 

Liz looks up from her screen, tears forming in her eyes, making her vision blur. She quickly wipes away the tears before they spill over her cheeks. With shaking hands, she continues explaining what happened the night before. As per usual, Fletcher doesn't take longer than a minute to reply. 

                                                                                  fletchersthoughts he did WHAT?! he threw a fucking glass at your head? what the fuck was this guy thinking?? liz... fuck… 

queenliz i’m okay fletch, really don’t worry about me, i didn’t get hurt so it’s fine

                                                                                fletchersthoughts you didn’t get hurt so it’s all fine?! that’s fucking bullshit liz and you know it HOW am i supposed to not worry about you liz? fuck.

Liz huffs annoyed, re-reading the message Fletcher just send her. Her fingers fly over the keyboard when she writes her response.

queenliz please fletcher, don’t be so fucking dramatic i fucking said i was fine, so i am doing fine leave me be and please stop worrying about me, it’s getting on my fucking nerves  idk if you know this, but i can take care of myself.

Liz’s fingers hover above the keyboard, debating whether or not telling Fletcher to leave her alone, to stick his nose into someone else’s business. Her bottom lip rolls back and forth between her teeth, a metallic flavor reminding her she should probably stop nibbling on her lips and make a decision. Her thumb lays on top of the lock button and her other thumb hovering back and forth over the backspace and send button. Her phone buzzes in her hands, letting her know that Fletcher is sorry for being so protective and that he understands Liz might not be ready to talk about things today. A soft smile appears on her lips for the first time in, what feels like ages. Quickly she deletes the message and sends him a brief thank you, before locking her phone and standing up to head home again.

++

taglist: @cthofficial​ - @calmlftv​ - @kingcals​ - @spicycal​ - @another-lonely-heart​

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[etherealwaifgoddess]

A Good Night’s Sleep, Pt.1

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has been plagued with nightmares since he left HYDRA and the Avengers all have been trying to help him overcome them. Bucky meets you by chance on a coffee run and finds that the solution he was avoiding might be exactly what he needs.

Warnings/ Content: brief mention of PTSD

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! So this little 3 part series came from an idea that @marinaaniseed had a few weeks ago. I absolutely couldn’t get the idea out of my head and so, while I should have been working on my many WIPs, this little fic was born. Parts two and three are going up immediately after this, it’s all done and I don’t feel like dragging it out. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. Especially you @marinaaniseed, thank you so much for the idea!!! XOXO- Ash

A Good Night’s Sleep, Part One

“Come on, Buck.” Steve calls out while banging on Bucky’s door, “You gotta wake up, pal.”

Bucky wakes with a jolt, his body rigid and his throat sore from screaming. He’s panting hard, trying to adjust to the world around him. He pulls himself out of bed on shaky legs, wobbling down the hall to open the door right as Steve goes to knock again. “Sorry. Again.” he rasps. 

“Want to come get a cup of tea with me?” Steve offers with sympathetic eyes.

“Nah, I’m gonna grab a shower. Go back to sleep, Stevie.” 

“You know you can talk to me about it if you want to.” 

“I know. I’ll be okay.” Bucky insists, closing the door to end the discussion. 

Under the burning hot spray of the shower Bucky lets himself breakdown. 

After Wakanda Steve had convinced Tony to let him live at the tower with the rest of the team and everyone had been leery of the former assassin joining their ranks. As they slowly came to know him though, he became a welcome addition to their little family of Avengers. The only issue was the nightmares that woke not only Bucky, but everyone else on their floor. Bucky hadn’t slept through the night since he escaped HYDRA, plagued with visions of the destruction he’d wrought as the Winter Soldier. It was an endless stream of death and terror every night when he closed his eyes. When he was on his own in Romania he’d accepted it as his penance for what he’d done. After Shuri and her team pulled him out of Cryo in Wakanda he hadn’t been hopeful the nightmares were gone along with the trigger words. And he had been right - they persisted. 

Bucky warned Steve when he invited him to live at the tower with the team. He told him he had nightmares and was prone to have low days where he just needed solitude to work through his own mind. Steve had promised he’d have his own living quarters and the team would understand. They all had their demons, afterall. The team was very understanding the first days but after that the concerned glances turned to long, worried looks and the team started speaking up.

Bruce had been the first to speak up, suggesting therapy to help him work through what was causing his nightmares. Bucky went and as much as he liked his therapist, nothing they tried stopped the nightmares. Even the meds blew through his system too fast to be of any use. She did give him some good tips for managing his PTSD and depression during the day though, so Bucky considered it a win and still went to see her once a week. 

Nat gave him a spicy Russian tea she swore would knock him out enough that no dreams would come. Nat was wrong, all Bucky got out of the tea was heartburn. She grumbled something under her breath in Russian that sounded a lot like “cursed’ the next morning over breakfast. 

Steve took him for a long run before bed one night, thinking the endorphin high and exhaustion would help Bucky sleep soundly. It helped Steve sometimes with his own dreams of war. It didn’t help with the nightmares, it only made him more exhausted the next day after getting little sleep. 

Tony offered to get him drunk but it would take entirely too much alcohol to overcome the serum in his veins so he declined the offer. 

Wanda suggested she try popping in his mind while he was having a nightmare to see if she could reshape it and try to correct whatever in his mind was causing him to have the dreams. Bucky threw up at the idea of someone meddling in his mind again.

The care and suggestions from the team were sweet, and Bucky knows they have the best intentions at heart, but it’s all still a little overwhelming. Bucky wants to stop having nightmares, he would do anything to sleep for more than three or four hours a night. A small part of him still thinks it’s punishment from some higher power for everything he’s done, but rationally he understands it’s just his PTSD. 

After his shower, Bucky trudges out to the team kitchen for coffee. If he isn’t going to sleep he might as well start on his caffeine routine. Sam is already in the kitchen whipping up a smoothie for himself while Natasha stares at him over a cup of tea, the human embodiment of heart eyes on her face. 

“Mornin’.” he rumbles as he crosses the kitchen, rummaging for his favorite cup in the dishwasher. 

“Another bad one, huh.” Nat asks, but it really isn’t a question.

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You’ve got to figure these out, James.” 

“I know it.” 

“I know what you need.” Sam interjects causing both Bucky and Nat to whip around to stare at him. Sam just shrugs, “You need to get laid, man.” 

Bucky chokes on his coffee. “What?” 

“You. Need. To. Get. Laid.” Sam repeats slowly. “Seriously, man. Find yourself a nice girl, or a guy, and get some. You’ll be all happy and cosy and you’ll nod right off. No nightmares if you’re wrapped up in the arms of a good woman, or man.” 

Bucky shakes his head, the last thing he needs is to terrorize some poor person trying to spend the night.

“It’s not a bad idea.” Nat agrees.

“Not happening.” Bucky says with a warning tone. He fills his cup and retreats to his bedroom, unwilling to continue the conversation. Adding another person to his mess of a life is not the solution. 

Sam’s suggestion spreads through the team like wildfire. Everyone seems to have a friend they could set him up with. Tony even hacks into his smartphone and adds apps for Tinder, Grindr, and Match.com. Bucky deletes them quickly before chewing Tony out about privacy rights. It becomes a bit of a running joke within the group and Bucky is less than thrilled about it. Bucky hasn’t had a date since 1941 and he isn’t sure how to navigate dating in the 21st century. He knows the times have changed, people are more free with their sexualities and casual relationships are normal instead of taboo. Eventually, he thinks, eventually he’ll get back out there. But certainly not just for the sake of random sex. 

Bucky has another particularly rough night. One where he doesn’t dare sleep because the second his eyes close the images start up like a motion picture. He’d spends the night alternating between pacing and reading, trying to not be disruptive while everyone else sleeps. Sam and Steve get up for their run just before dawn and find him pacing in the common room. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Steve asks him.

“I will later. Probably.” Bucky grumbles. 

Sam shakes his head, “Let’s go get coffee. You look like hell.”

Bucky can’t argue with that and instead goes to grab his shoes with a nod.

The city is bustling despite the early hour and the line at their favorite coffee shop is almost to the door. It’s worth the wait though and Bucky likes the thrumming energy of the shop, the blur of muted sounds around him oddly comforting. The woman in front of them is fidgeting with her leather bag, it must have something heavy in it the way she keeps adjusting the strap on her shoulder. Bucky tries not to let his gaze linger too long but the way her long hair falls in soft waves all the way down to the small of her back is distracting. The even softer looking rounded curves of her body are even more distracting, he admits to himself. She reminds him of the women in Renaissance paintings, when lush curves were still revered, before these modern stick thin bodies became the ideal. Bucky wishes the Winter Soldier could go back and pay a visit to whoever started the “thigh gap” craze. 

The woman adjusts the leather strap again and a small white card flutters out onto the floor behind her. Bucky reaches down to pick it up, noticing the card has business information on it. Sam and Steve are chatting and distracted when Bucky taps the woman on the shoulder, “I think you dropped your business card.” he says hesitantly. 

You’re cursing yourself for lugging everything along with you in your enormous bag when you feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a warm masculine voice. You absolutely do not have business cards, you’re a freelance writer and market yourself entirely online. It has to be another pick up line, probably from some smarmy Wall Street asshole who wants to slum it with an artsy girl for a change. You’ve been burned by that type enough times and won’t let yourself do it again, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve had a date. “Does that line work a lot for you?” you reply, turning around with an unamused expression. 

Bucky’s face falls, upset he’s offended you when all he was trying to do was return what you’d dropped. “I wasn’t. I don’t. You. Um, you dropped this. It fell out of your bag.” Bucky fumbles for words, blushing brightly and drawing the attention of Sam and Steve who wear twin smirks of amusement watching him flounder. 

Your irritation dissipates when you see the gorgeous, stuttering man in front of you. He’s tall, though not quite as tall as his companions, his dark hair falls around his shoulders in a way that is either true bedhead or carefully crafted styling to mimic it. His grey blue eyes are wide and honest, clearly not some smarmy pick up artist like you’d assumed. He’s wearing a black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants so it’s unlikely he was the business card type either. You force yourself to stop ogling the poor man and look at the tiny card in his outstretched hand. Recognizing it immediately, you realize you’re the asshole in this scenario. “Shit, that is mine.” you curse, “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually have business cards but my friend gave me this one yesterday for a new bakery that went in over on 2nd Avenue.” 

Bucky looks at the card for a second before you take it from him. “So you’re not Beth Yardley?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that’s now a ploy to get your name. You really need to be less suspicious but after living in the city for five years you’ve become jaded. He’s cute though. “Nope, Y/N. Nice to meet you…?”

“Bucky.” he offers quickly.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but he looks familiar for some reason. “Nice you meet you, Bucky. Thanks for saving that card for me. I’m dying to try these cinnamon buns my friend keeps raving about.”

Bucky is smiling again, hoping his face doesn’t betray how eager he is to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t trying to hit on you a few minutes ago but now that he’s seen your face and heard your voice, he sure as hell is. “I love cinnamon buns.” 

You stifle your laugh at the way his cheeks burn bright pink after his admission. He has to be flirting at this point. And he really is cute. Damnit. “We should go try them, then.” you decide, giving him a chance to make a move. 

Bucky feels like he’s swallowed his tongue, “As in, together?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I wasn’t clear. This is me hitting on you now.” you smirk at him as his blush spreads.

Sam is leaning on Steve as they fight for composure, trying not to erupt in laughter and ruin their friends moment. Bucky glares at their backs for a moment before realizing he still hasn’t answered, “Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.” 

Getting a better look at his companions you realize why he looks so familiar. Of all the people to meet in a coffee shop, you muse. You’re still interested though. “Are you free after this? I was going to get my coffee to go and then head straight there for breakfast.” 

“I’m free. These idiots can find their own way home.” 

“Great. Now, the deciding factor is: icing or no icing? Think hard Bucky, there are two camps of people and if you fall into the wrong one I’ll be forced to shame you for all eternity.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen, worried he’s going to mess up two seconds into what could potentially be a date. “Icing?” he tries.

“Right answer!” you announce him happily. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, you whisper, “It wasn’t really a deal breaker but it’s good to know you’re not some sugar hating monster.” 

Bucky’s grin widens, “No, I have a serious sweet tooth.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine.” you assure him. 

After you order your coffee, quad shot latte with whole milk don’t judge me, and Bucky orders his, the biggest white mocha frapp you have please, you swipe your card before he has a chance to get his wallet out. Bucky balks at you paying but you tell him he can get it next time with a flirty smile that has his brain shutting off, unable to continue complaining. 

Steve and Sam give Bucky small waves and thumbs up, not interfering when Bucky leaves with you. “Your friends seem nice.” you say kindly as you step out onto the busy city sidewalk.

“They’re the best.” Bucky agrees with a nod. 

You make idle chit chat on your way to the bakery, keeping the topics light and superficial. Bucky tells you he grew up in Brooklyn, moved away for a bit, and recently moved to Manhattan with his friends. He seems hesitant as he explains it and you realize he’s trying to not be obvious about who he is. Like you couldn’t have already guessed.

You snort a laugh into your latte. “So what was Brooklyn like in the 30s?” you ask bluntly.

Bucky’s eyes practically bug out of his head, “How did you...?” 

You give him a half smile and shrug, “The hand is a good clue, plus your face was everywhere for a while. It doesn’t help that your best friends are Captain America and the Falcon.” 

Cringing, Bucky figures this will be the end of his almost date. “We don’t have to go get breakfast. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be seen with me.” 

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shocked by his response. “Whoa, hold on. I knew who you were before I asked you to join me. I don’t care what other people think about you or your past. You seem like a nice guy and I want to get to know you. The real you.” 

Bucky takes a moment to process your words, finding it hard to believe someone is willing to look beyond his past. He can't find a shred of deceit in your expression though, so he answers your question. “Well, there were less cars and it smelled worse if you can believe it.” 

You huff out a laugh, resuming your walk to the bakery. “I can’t. Tell me more.” 

Bucky tells you stories of the Brooklyn of his youth as you make your way across town. You aren’t in a hurry and Bucky is happy to spend extra time out in the warm sun with a beautiful woman. 

The bakery is a little glass fronted shop sandwiched between two larger brick buildings. You would have walked right past it if you hadn’t been looking for it. Bucky opens the door for you and you smirk, amused by the old fashioned gesture. The scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar hit you the second you’re inside. “Oh my god.” you groan the amazing smell. 

Bucky’s steps falter at the sound you made, trying desperately not to let his mind go where it was headed. “This place smells amazing.” he says, inhaling deeply.

“It had better taste as good as it smells or I’ll riot.” you joke. 

The line is short and before you know it, Bucky is ordering two iced cinnamon buns plus an assortment of other pastries he picks at random out of the display case. 

“Are we feeding an army?” you question as the tray piles higher and higher with plates of baked goods.

“Sorry,” he blushes, handing over his card to the waiting cashier, “Um, my metabolism is pretty high and I have to keep up with it or I get cranky.” 

“Ah, okay. No hangry super soldiers on my watch.” 

Bucky chuckles and nods. 

There’s a sunny spot in the window of the bakery with an unoccupied cafe table, Bucky motions towards it and it’s your turn to nod, following him over to it. The tray takes up most of the table and you perch your coffees on your respective sides, eager to dig into the spread in front of you. You go for the cinnamon bun first, knowing one of them is yours and not wanting to presume you’ll be trying any of the other treats. 

The taste of caramelized sugar and cinnamon explode on your tongue, eliciting yet another moan that makes Bucky fidget in his seat. “Okay, that’s it. I can die happy now.” you announce dramatically. 

Bucky takes a swipe of the icing off the top of his cinnamon bun and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh wow.” he lifts the entire bun up to take a large bite and closes his eyes happily as he chews. “This is incredible.” he says once he’s swallowed, quickly taking another large bite. His cheeks puff out adorably and you grin around your own bite of cinnamon bun. 

“I can’t believe you just bite it like that.” you tease. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with it?” 

You demonstrate the way you’ve been peeling yours apart from the outside in, “You uncoil it, like a normal human being.” 

“Takes too long.” Bucky scoffs, “My way is faster.” 

“But then it’s gone. My way you can enjoy it more.” 

“Pfft. I enjoy it plenty, and I would have time for two of them while you eat just one.” 

“Not all of us have super soldier metabolisms, one bun is enough.” 

Bucky looks at the four other plates on the tray and shakes his head, “Then I guess it’s good to be me.” 

You laugh at his antics as he takes another big bite, smiling while his cheeks chipmunk out again. The look you’re giving him almost makes him swallow wrong. He knows this look, he remembers it from the dance hall girls in the 30s. Attraction. Desire. You’re flirting with him in your own, unique, modern way. And Bucky is shocked to realize he’s been flirting back. He didn’t intend to get back out there so soon but here he is, enjoying breakfast with a beautiful woman. He wonders if you’re the type who would appreciate being asked out on a date, or if you’d rather exchange numbers and call him up when the mood strikes. A booty call, Sam had called it. Bucky still doesn’t get how there’s such a big difference between a booty call and a butt dial but thankfully Sam had corrected him when he got the reference wrong. 

Bucky finishes his cinnamon bun and starts in on a vanilla bean scone, enjoying the way the light glaze crackles as it gives way to the soft, buttery dough. You’re still enjoying your bun, about half way through, so Bucky tears the other pointed corner of the scone off and deposits it on your plate. “It’s really good.” he insists, not wanting you to miss out.

You glance from the bite of scone up to Bucky who’s looking at you hesitantly like he’s waiting to see if he’s done something right or wrong. You pop the bite of scone into your mouth, chewing slowly before nodding, “Yeah it is. Thanks.” 

Bucky practically beams. Maybe he can figure out 21st century flirting. He’s not sure if flirting via baked goods is a thing or not, but it absolutely should be. Bucky methodically works through all of the plates on the tray, offering you bits of each different item. You snag two bites of the cream puff but decline when he offers to buy you your own. The conversation shifts to the best meals you’ve had in the city. Food is an easy common ground for you both. You explain to Bucky that the small town you grew up in was pretty limited restaurant-wise and you’ve tried a lot of different places since moving to the city. You’re great in the kitchen but some days, after spending hours alone working at home, you like to get out and around other people for a while. 

“There’s an Italian place, Sapori, near the tower you would love.” Bucky tells you, “I don’t know what the big deal about the place is but Stark always gets reservations when we’re celebrating something. They make everything from scratch and it’s damn good. There’s these little pillowy pasta things. Starts with a g but you don’t pronounce it. I don’t know, but they’re amazing.”

“Gnocchi,” you say, stifling a laugh. 

“Yeah! Those. Best meal I’ve had in the city by far.” 

“That’s only because you haven’t had the food at Xián Tián.” 

“Well, you should let me take you to Sapori and then you’ll understand.” 

“Did you just ask me out?” you raise your eyebrows at him in surprise.

Bucky blushes and nods, suddenly feeling more shy. “Yeah. I did. This is me hitting on you now.” he says, paroting your words from earlier. 

“Well done, Barnes. When are we going?” 

Read part two HERE!

[anxiouslymalicious]

Until we’re old and grey

Pairing: Ben Hardy x (fem) Reader

Summary: Ben’s fans make you insecure. What ensues is nothing but tooth-rotitng fluff. 

Word Count: 2555

Warnings: Mentions of sex and nudity, insecurities, possibly bad writing

A/N: I’m kind of in the mood for a second part of this but with an insecure Ben. Does anyone want me to write that?

You woke up to the empty side of your shared bed. His side of the bed was cold and there was not a trace to be found that he had even spent the night there, but you knew that he did. Because, when you came home late that night from the movies with your two best friends, you saw him laying in bed, looking angelic as always. The second you had changed into your pyjamas and curled up under the blanket, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to him. Ben’s hand was resting on your stomach and, although the two of you had been dating for quite some time, you were always kind of scared to let him feel your body.

You were scared that he might dislike what he found under your shirt. That he disliked the fat you were trying so desperately to hide.

You knew that he, too, had his own issues with the way he looked, but to you loved every single part of him. From the light scruff he woke up with to the way his stomach looked when he didn’t work out for some time. His huge thighs were perfect to ride and you constantly lost your train of thought when you looked into those gorgeous eyes. To you, he was perfect, no matter what he looked like.

When you turned around to look at your alarm clock, you saw the display of your phone lighting up with new notifications. Ever since you had started dating Ben, his fans went crazy about it. Some in a more positive way than others. You understood it to some extent, they were just trying to be protective of someone they liked, some were even jealous of you, but some people went too far. Some of them left hateful comments on your pictures, others tried to send hurtful messages. Most of the time, you tried to delete their comments without reading them, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself.

Today was one of those days.

You had grabbed your phone and opened up your Instagram. Some of the notifications you had gotten were from your friends who had tagged you in pictures you had taken the previous night. They were mostly some fun selfies in which all of you made funny faces. You immediately liked the pics before commenting.

I had so much fun last night!! Hope we get to do that again soon!!

However, as you scrolled to find your friends comments, you noticed that a lot of Ben’s fans found their Instagram accounts. And you also noticed that most of those fans weren’t too kind.

Most of the fans were talking about your double chin. It wasn’t even that prominent and in one pic, one of your friends had one, too, but the people commenting were merciless. Commenting about your double chin, about how you shouldn’t have had popcorn that night because you were already fat enough, that you should work out, that each of your friends were prettier than you and he should date one of them instead of you, etcetera, etcetera.

You couldn’t help the tears from falling and a chocked sob escaped your lips. You clasped your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. It wasn’t worth it and you knew it, but you couldn’t help yourself. You felt bad for yourself.

Sniffling, you laid your phone back down and grabbed some fresh clothes before going into the bathroom. Maybe you would feel better after a shower.

Meanwhile, Ben came home from his morning run. Whenever he was home and had the time, he would go for a run in the morning with Frankie and, on his way, stop at a bakery to get some fresh bread rolls, maybe even some pastries if something caught his eye. Today, the hazelnut croissants did and he was a bit excited to treat his girlfriend to a nice breakfast.

During the past weeks, neither of them had a lot of time, both of them were rather stressed, but Y/N still did her best to make every morning and every evening as pleasant and easy for him as possible. From cleaning the flat, to getting up earlier than him to make him breakfast, to going on walks with Frankie, to reminding him to pack his keys and whatnot. Y/N had his back through everything and Ben was incredibly grateful for that.

He unlocked the door to their shared flat in hopes of being able to wake her with a nice breakfast in bed, but he was disappointed when he heard the sound of the running shower. It only took him a second, though, to come up with another idea. Ben placed the bag on the kitchen counter, unleashed Frankie and then made his way to the bathroom where he found you just standing in the shower. He quickly undressed before opening the shower door and stepping in behind you.

“Good morning, love. It’s a wonderful day to save some water, isn’t it?”, Ben asked as he wrapped his muscular arms around your middle from behind. The warm water felt nice on his tired muscles and he missed the intimate moments like these that the two of you used to have. It wasn’t that one of you refused to have them, but you were usually not awake for long enough at the same time to have these moments.

You sighed contently, leaning back into his chest.

“I’m afraid we might take too long, my love.”, you replied with a grin, your eyes closed as you blindly tried to find his hands and lift one of them to your lips, kissing his fingers softly. For a moment, all your worries were blown away. He chuckled lightly, his chest vibrating against your back.

“I missed this. Missed you.”, he told you as he grabbed your shampoo and started massaging it into your scalp. You moaned quietly.

“I missed you, too. A lot. But it’s alright, you’re here now.”, you told him. After you had rinsed out the shampoo and he had put conditioner into your hair, you turned around to do the same for him. As your hand reached for his shampoo, he grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Wait. Use yours. Smells nicer and reminds me of you.”, Ben said, his cheeks flushed and a slightly unsure smile on his lips. You grinned before grabbing yours and motioning for him to turn around. Softly, you massaged the shampoo into his hair, gently scratching his scalp, making him groan.

“I bought breakfast, by the way.”, Ben told you before stepping immediately under the water stream to rinse out the shampoo. You frowned a little before grabbing the conditioner and massaging it into his hair, then turned around again to get yours out.

“Ben? Do you ever think I’m… too big for you?”, you asked, your insecurities showing. But you needed to hear him tell you that he didn’t. You needed him to convince you because you couldn’t do it yourself.

“Oh, love. Not at all.”, he said, then washed his hair once more before turning the shower off. He then gently grabbed you by your shoulders and slowly turned you around. Before you knew it, a soft kissed was pressed onto your lips. It didn’t last long, only mere seconds before he pulled away and opened the shower door to grab two towels. One ended up around his waist before he carefully wrapped you up in the other. After securing the towel around your chest, he laid his hand on your cheek and stared lovingly into your eyes. Never had you seen so much affection in anyone else’s eyes. It was a look he couldn’t fake when looking at all the other girls he acted with. It felt like this look was only meant for you.

“Let’s get dressed first, then I’ll explain to you exactly why you are not too big for me.”, he said, giving your nose a quick peck before stepping out of the shower. You followed him shortly after. Both of you dried your bodies, leaving your hair a wet mess. Naturally, Ben was messing around with the body lotion, drawing whiskers on his face and little hearts on your back before poking your sides. You couldn’t help but giggle. Everything felt so much easier with him, like the weights on your shoulders had been lifted.

Once you two were done and dressed in the ugliest, most comfortable clothes you could find, which had, admittedly, taken a lot longer than you anticipated, Ben took your hand and led you to your bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of your bed. He then kneeled down in front of you and took both your hands in both of his, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself.”, Ben said.

“My stomach.”

“What about it?”

“There are so many rolls and it’s not one of those perfect firm and flat tummies that your co-stars or even some of my friends have.”, you explained, trying to pull your hands away from his.

“Their stomachs are firm. Nothing I can rest my head on for hours and hours on end. The rolls just show me that you’re healthy. Those girls usually work out for hours on end, several days a week. I like that you and I can just be lazy together. If you want to, I can wake you up in the morning and we can go for a run together. We can go to the gym or work out here. What else?”, Ben didn’t sound mad, like you were afraid he would. His voice was calm, his thumbs rubbed gentle circles onto your hands and his eyes never left yours.

“Uh… my- my skin. I’ve got cellulite and my skin isn’t as clear and soft as my friends’.”, you told him.

“It honestly doesn’t bother me, love. I like tracing over the soft skin of your thighs, your stomach, butt and boobs after we had sex. To me, your skin always feels soft. After taking a shower, on Sunday mornings when both of us wake up with greasy hair and kind of sweaty after a movie marathon. Everyone can improve at any given point, we can consult a doctor, ask them how to improve your skin condition, if you want to.” Ben kept on explaining, making you blush lightly. Unshed tears blurred your vision.

“Keep going.”, he now encouraged you. You had only named a few things that you didn’t like about yourself, but you were already struggling to come up with more flaws now that you were confronted by Ben. And no matter what you said, Ben never failed to tell you how much he liked what you dubbed a flaw and gave you at least one possible solution to your problem, telling you that the two of you could try it together. Not you on your own, but him supporting you.

“I… uh… my- my hair. It’s always so flat and makes my face look even rounder.”, you were a stuttering mess. You desperately wanted to come up with more flaws, but you just couldn’t.

“Your hair is so soft and always smells so nice. I love burying my face in it when we hug. Smells like home. We can do some research. Maybe there’s some old household remedy we can try out when we’re doing our face masks again. Besides, the round face makes you look younger and you’ll be really thankful once we’re old and full of wrinkles. I’ll look like something messed up from Star Wars while you won’t look a day over 29.”, Ben’s voice was barely above a whisper, gently squeezing your hands.

“Anything else?”, he asked patiently. You shook your head in reply, not daring to look him in the eye now. It seemed as though none of your worries were actually worth it. Like you were worried about nothing.

“Do you now see that I actually appreciate all those things about you? I am not a hundred percent content with my body either. I don’t think you ever really are, especially in the industry I’m working in. You have to look perfect at any given time, but no one ever does. At first, I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep because I was scared. Scared of not being good enough. And then I met you. You looked at me like I was perfect. Not because of my abs, though. Not because of the movies I was in. It felt like you looked right inside of me. Like you saw the real me. And I appreciate that more than anything. Even if you would suddenly turn to look like the daughter of Yzma and Jabba the Hutt, I would still be so deeply in love with you. Your looks aren’t everything. Neither are mine. We won’t look like this forever, but if you want me to, I’ll love you until we’re old and ugly with grey hair and weird skin. When we’ll be sitting in some rocking chairs on a patio with our dogs and cats running around in the garden. Our children and grandchildren will visit us as often as possible and, although everything changes, I will still look at you the way I do now. Because you are and will always be my whole world. I love you, Y/N.”, throughout his rambled monologue, Ben tried to keep eye contact, but the second he started tearing up, he couldn’t bring himself to keep looking at you and instead watched your hands.

“Can you promise me something, Ben?”, you asked, voice breaking lightly. It was calming to know that the person you pictured your whole future with was thinking about you the exact same way.

“Anything you want, Y/N.”

“Actually, it’s two things. One, can we please make that come true? I wouldn’t want to spend a future like that with anyone else.” At that, he nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but you laid a finger onto his lips, effectively silencing him.

“I’m not done yet. I was insecure because of the things your fans said about me again. I now get that they don’t see what is behind the camera. What your co-stars are really like, what you are really like. For some part, I didn’t either. I’m sorry for that. But can you promise me that the two of us, from now on, will always come to each other when we’re feeling insecure? About anything?”, you were now the one to lift his face up, your hands had escaped his warm grasp and were clasping his face.

“I promise, love.”, he said and you pressed your lips to his in a passionate and loving kiss.

It wasn’t long before Ben and the BoRhap cast met again to celebrate. They often did. This time, though, you joined them without any doubts in yourself. At the end of the night, you had exchanged your heels for sneakers, your hair was a mess and your make up was smudged. Pictures of Gwil, Joe, Rami, Lucy, Ben and yourself ended up online. And you couldn’t be happier.

Because what they showed were truly happy faces at the end of an extraordinary night.

[destiel-love-forever]

The Set-Up

In Claire and Jack Novak's opinion, it's been far too long since their dad went out on a date. Castiel Novak doesn't think it's an issue. His children disagree.

So, they make a plan.

Enter a dating app, a fake profile, and an unsuspecting Dean Winchester. What could go wrong?

Read Below or on AO3: The Set-Up

The Set-Up

The plan is simple. Only 3 steps.

Stage One: Make the dating profile.

The first thing the app asks is what picture or pictures they’d like to include. Claire wants the picture to be more on the attractive side, while Jack thinks it should be goofy. They decide to add three in order to cover all the bases. The first is of their dad when they went on a hike last month. He’s wearing that light blue shirt that makes his eyes bright. It was a weekend, so his stubble is grown in. The smile on his face is carefree, showing off his dimples and eye wrinkles. They both agree that he’s handsome - even sexy, if it were possible for their dad to be sexy - and use that as his main photo. The second picture is of their dad at an outdoor concert. He’s wearing his blackRebel With A Cause shirt and his sock monkey winter hat with the strings hanging down. The third is a picture of the three of them at the ocean. Uncle Gabriel had taken the photo just after a huge wave knocked them over, so everyone’s hair is all over the place. They’re standing together haphazardly, arms wrapped around each other so they can smile for the picture. You can practically hear the laughter.

“Perfect,” Claire announces, clapping her hands together after this part is done. “Now they see he’s a hot, goofy, single dad.”

“Do we want them to know the single dad part?” Jack asks nervously.

“Uh, duh! This isn’t Tinder, Jack. This is looking for a long-term thing. I think it’d be a little hard to do that while keeping his sixteen-year-old twin teenagers a secret.”

Jack shrugs, unable to argue. He clicks the NEXT button and they continue filling out the profile. It takes them thirty-four minutes, and a lot of arguing. It’s a relief when they finally submit it.

“Now what?” Jack asks as they stare at the finished profile.

“Now,” Claire pauses dramatically, giving Jack a crazed smile that makes him wonder if this plan was actually a good idea. “We wait.”

----

When Dean gets home from work after pulling a double-shift, he grabs a cold beer from the fridge and plops down on the couch. He kicks his feet up and turns on the TV to watch the football game that’s about to start. As the announcers go back and forth on what team is going to win, Dean starts messing around on his phone. His thumb hovers over the dating app Sam convinced him to install last week. He hasn’t looked at it since the first night. It’s not that he doesn’t want to find someone, he’d love to, but it’s such a time-consuming process.

After glancing up at the TV to see that there’s still ten minutes before kick-off, he figures he might as well scroll through the thing. What’s the harm in looking? It might even be entertaining.

Case in point: The first profile Dean sees is of a man maybe ten years older than him with a black Santa beard, who has wrapped himself in a strange-looking rainbow towel and is holding what looks like a pet mouse. Dean doesn’t even read the description of that one.

The next isn’t terrible. A younger guy with a cute smile. Dean rolls his eyes when he reads the blurb on the guy's profile. Every achievement in his life is written out for Dean to read - from winning his highschool talent show to getting a masters in business. He then lays out his dating history, in which each situation he was the victim.

Next.

Dean's breath catches when he flicks his thumb to a picture of an absolutely beautiful man. He's standing on what looks like the top of the mountain, grinning at the camera. Despite the hiking clothes and messy, sweaty hair, he still manages to be Dean's wet dream.

Holding his breath, Dean starts to read the blurb on this guy's - Castiel, Age 38 - profile. He's praying this guy doesn't suck like all the others.

I'm a freelance photographer, a terrible singer, and have a set of 16-year-old twins that make my world chaotic. When my kiddos graduate I plan on doing a lot of traveling. My Hogwarts house is Hufflepuff - yeah I'm a 38-year-old man who cares about his Hogwarts house, fight me - and my patronus is a guinea pig. I'm allergic to guinea pigs though, so not sure what that says about me. Message at your own risk if none of that scares you off.

Dean reads the paragraph two more times, grinning like an idiot. He scrolls through the rest of the pictures, each one sporting an equally good looking Castiel, and decides this one is worth a shot.

He opens up the chat feature but then his thumbs freeze. What does he even say? He rereads Castiel's paragraph before typing out what he hopes will be a response the guy likes.

Dean spends the rest of the game checking the app every two minutes. When he finally gets the checkmark that Castiel read it, he holds his breath and stares at the screen. Then it tells him Castiel is typing. Dean's heart races. He decides it'd be a good idea to grab another beer while he waits.

This Castiel guy has him feeling like a damn teenager again. If Dean's being honest, he kind of missed that.

----

"Dad got a new message!"

"Oh god, is it another creeper?" Jack asks, hurrying over to where his sister is sitting on the couch. It's a valid question. They've had some real wackjobs message their dad. One asked upfront for a dick pic. Another told him he'd like to bring him on a walk in the forest at night. Suffice to say, those got deleted.

"No, he's hot!" Claire grins at Jack, showing him a picture of a very handsome man that looks to be a little younger than their dad. He has kind green eyes and a warm smile. The picture shows him at what seems to be a barbecue, people blurred in the background as he stands there wearing a faded flannel and holding a beer. Relaxed. Casual. Not full of himself.

"What's his profile say?"

Claire clicks on the button that makes the profile blurb pop up and read out loud, "I'm a pretty laid back guy, but I still squeeze in adventures every once in a while. Nothing's better than a lazy Sunday on the couch watching football - though kayaking down the river is a close second. If those kinds of things sound good to you, feel free to message me."

"He sounds good," Jack muses.

"Good? How about great. He's perfect. I mean, dad isn't a huge football fan, but he could read a book or something as they cuddle! And dad loves kayaking and stuff like that."

Jack lifts his hands. "I'm sorry. You're right. He sounds great. What does his message say?"

After a second, Claire reads, "Your chaos doesn't scare me. Life should be messy after all, right? Plus, I don't own any guinea pigs, so we're batting a thousand so far. Look at us go - and then a wink face."

"He's funny. That's good! Dad needs to laugh more."

"Dad needs to do what?" Castiel asks, strolling into the living room while looking at his twins suspiciously.

"Oh. Uh." Claire and Jack exchange a look. Then Claire says, "Sleep more. We were just talking about how you're always up late and up early. You need to relax more."

Castiel chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry about your old man, kiddos. I'm fine."

As Castiel flips through the channels on the TV, Claire leans in to whisper in Jack's ear. "He's not fine, but he will be." She shows him the message she sent back to Dean, grinning mischievously.

"Stage two?" Jack asks in excitement.

"Stage two."

Stage Two: Arrange a meeting.

After seven messages stretched over 36 hours, Dean asks if they can meet. He suggests something low key and public, making a joke about serial killers, and Castiel (A.K.A. Claire and Jack) says he knows just the place. They agree on grabbing some coffee on Saturday morning at a little cafe downtown. Ten A.M.

That gives the twins sixteen hours to get their dad to that cafe at that particular time. Unsuspecting, of course.

Stage Three: Get dad to the cafe.

They ambush him at dinner. Claire starts - she’s usually the one to take the reins. Even as a toddler, she was the troublemaker of the two.

“So, dad. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

Castiel, always very perceptive, pauses halfway through cutting his steak and looks up at his daughter. His eyebrows pull in. “Nothing… that I know of.”

“Perfect! We want to hang out with you.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel looks at Jack, then back at Claire, highly suspicious. “You want to hang out? With me? On a Saturday?” He looks at each of them again. “Without me telling you you have to?”

Jack steps in. “School starts in a week. I’ll be busy with football and student council, and Claire will be busy with dance and drama. We just wanted to spend a little extra time with you.”

Wanting to make this sound a bit more realistic - because they’re teenagers after all - Claire adds, “And we were kiiiiiind of hoping you’d bring us clothes shopping for back to school, too.”

“Ahh, there it is. The motive.” Castiel winks at his kids. “Fine. We can go school clothes shopping.”

“And coffee!” Jack adds enthusiastically.

“Coffee?”

Claire shoots her brother a look for shouting that at their dad instead of being more subtle, then smiles at Castiel and says, “Well, that’s what we wanted to do first. Get coffees and then go shopping.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, kiddos. I’ll take you shopping.”

“It’s not a bribe,” Jack states firmly.

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” Claire shrugs a shoulder. “It’s very New York City. Everyone’s been doing it.”

“Doing what?” Castiel asks, slightly exasperated.

“Getting coffees. It’s way cooler than stupid stuff like bowling or the movies.”

Jack nods. “It’s more sophisticated. Grown-up.”

This makes Castiel smile. “Okay. Grown-up coffee date it is.”

----

Castiel sighs as they walk into the coffee shop. It’s been a morning of overbearing children. First, he planned on letting them sleep-in this morning. What teenagers don’t want to sleep-in on Saturday, a week before they go back to school? Apparently Castiel’s. They made it clear they needed to get their coffee by 10 AM, because the mall opens at 11 and they don’t want to have to wait in lines.

Then what Castiel wanted to wear - old jeans and a hooded sweatshirt - was apparently not cool enough for them, whatever that means. They talked him into his nice pair of dark jeans and a soft grey sweater that’s thin enough for the lingering warmth of summer.

As he started driving them to Starbucks, he was quickly directed downtown instead. His kids love Starbucks. At least, they used to. Now it’s apparently not what everyone is doing. It’s not New York City - something they both keep saying, even though Castiel is clueless what New York has to do with anything.

Now they’re in the coffee shop, and Castiel is sent to get himself coffee while Claire and Jack go talk to a friend. They say they’ll be back in a minute, telling Castiel to just go sit. When he offers to get them their coffees, they both nearly shout at him not to before stuttering something about not being sure what they want yet.

Castiel gets his Americano and slumps down at a table in the corner. He pulls his phone out and opens the chat for Gabriel. He’s the coolest person Castiel knows - which sort of hurts the soul to admit.

Castiel: Do you know what it means for something to be ‘So New York City’? And since when is Starbucks not cool?

"Excuse me?" Castiel puts his phone down and glances up at the man who just spoke to him. He's taken aback. Not only is the man gorgeous - dressed in black jeans and a faded denim-colored button-up shirt that has the top few buttons left open, with a charming smile that involves the prettiest pink lips Castiel has ever seen, a dusting of freckles, and green eyes that feel like they could see into his soul - but he's also standing extremely close to Castiel. Like, if Castiel were to stand up, they'd be chest to chest.

Castiel clears his throat and awkwardly says, "Uh, hey. Can I help you?"

The guy stares at him for a few seconds, then his gorgeous smile fades. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Right." Castiel scans the cafe, confused. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Seriously?"

"Well - yes."

The guy huffs, clearly angry now. "I'm Dean."

"Okay." Castiel scratches the back of his head and laughs nervously. "Well, hi Dean. Can I help you with something?"

"Great. I knew you were too good to be true. Just had to be a fucking dick." Dean turns to leave before spinning back around and glaring at Castiel. "Why even show up? Why keep messaging me? Seriously. What the hell is this?"

Now Castiel is really confused. "Messaging you? I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea-" his eyes travel past Dean's shoulder, catching sight of Jack and Claire trying to hide behind a bookshelf. "Oh, Jesus christ."

"What?" Dean growls.

Castiel laughs softly. That's all he can do in this situation. He's so shocked that his kids pulled this off that he can't even be pissed right now. He's sure that will come later, though.

"Let me guess. We met on a dating app or website."

"Dude, what is this? Is this some sort of fucking game?"

"No. Unfortunately, it is not." Castiel points at his twins, who look terrified. When Dean sees them, Castiel explains. "Apparently my pain in the ass teenagers didn't want to accept my I don't want to date right now. I'm assuming they're who you've been talking to."

Dean stares at them before turning to look at Castiel with wide eyes. "You know, it was written on your profile that they create chaos in your life. I was forewarned. Just had no idea I was going to be a part of their troublemaking."

"Okay, I need to see this profile now." Castiel laughs, trying to imagine what his kids would have put. "Can I buy you coffee as an apology?"

"An apology?" Dean scoffs, stepping closer to him so he can speak in a lower voice. "You're not getting out of this one, blue eyes. I'm on their side. You and I are on a date right now."

"We most certainly are not."

Dean winks at him. Winks! "I'm gonna grab myself a coffee. You just stay there."

"But-"

"Need anything? Muffin? Refill?"

"I - but - no." Castiel wipes a hand down his face, suddenly nervous. He's on a date. He's not ready for a date. He doesn't have topics prepared in case the conversation lulls. He didn't ask Gabriel what to do or say in every possible scenario.

Before Castiel can panic further, Dean is back. He puts a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder and pushes him until he's sitting in his chair, then goes to the opposite side of the table to sit across from him. His grin is even wider than it was when they first spoke. That was a sexy, but nervous Dean. This is a confident, amused Dean.

Great.

"So, Castiel. Let's get a few things straight. Is your patronus really a guinea pig? And how exactly does one get themselves sorted into Hufflepuff?"

Castiel groans. What other embarrassing stuff has his children told this man? He looks over at where Jack and Claire or clearly spying on them from across the cafe. He narrows his eyes and mouths you two are dead while doing a line across his throat with his finger.

When he turns to look at Dean again, the guy is laughing. He's loving this.

"First of all," Castiel begins, letting a large amount of sass into his tone. "If we’re going to try this, you aren’t allowed to bash Hufflepuff. What’s your house anyway?”

“Gryffindor,” Dean states proudly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Cliche.”

“Uh, I can’t help that that’s my house!”

“Did you take the official test?” Dean doesn’t even have to answer. The look on his face and the way his eyes awkwardly dart to the side give him away. Castiel points an accusing finger at him. “Exactly. So you’re one of those wannabe Harry Potter guys. No giving me shit for being Hufflepuff until you take the test too, asshole.”

Dean laughs softly, looking at Castiel with eyes that practically sparkle. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“Second of all, that right there?” Castiel points a finger at his twins, then at Dean. “Not cool. Not cool. You’re on team dad if you come around. No joining those two to gang up on me.”

The smirk Dean gives Castiel makes it pretty damn clear this rule isn’t going to be followed, even though he says, “Of course.”

Lucky for Dean, Castiel’s already hooked on this man. He’s laid back. Good looking. Funny. Charming. It’s easy for them to talk and tease each other. He’s making Castiel laugh for the first time in a long time. Plus, he already passed the crazy teenager test. If this guy can handle the fact that he was tricked by the twins to come here on a blind date with their dorky, uncooperative dad, then Castiel can give him a chance.

“What’s number three?” Dean asks.

“Huh?”

“There was a first of all. Then a second of all.” Dean puts his elbows on the table and leans closer to Castiel, almost like they’re sharing secrets. “What’s the third of all?”

“Umm,” Castiel looks at his coffee, feeling himself blush. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t blushed in years. “Third of all - ummm.”

“Can I do the third of all?”

Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean in curiosity. “Sure.”

“Great.” Dean licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Castiel’s own mouth. When he looks back up at Castiel, it looks like he wants to eat him alive. “I'm bringing you to dinner tonight so we can have a proper first date. One where your two goofballs aren't spying on us."

Castiel turns around, laughing when he sees that Jack and Claire have moved closer now, trying to hide behind an open menu that barely covers one of their faces, let alone two. He looks back and Dean and smiles. "Dinner tonight sounds perfect."

[odinsonsobsessed]

Beautifully Complicated || Chapter 14: Broken

A Tom Hiddleston x OFC Matchmaker AU series by @odinsonsobsessed and @mrshiddleston-uk

Kate Rees just wants some romance in her life, but she hasn’t had the most pleasant dating history. After yet another date gone wrong, she nearly gives up until her work colleague mentions a matchmaking website she’d seen an ad for. Little does she know, the mystery man she’s been matched with is handsome, rising star, Tom Hiddleston. And that’s when things get complicated.

Rated M (18+) || Word Count: 5.4k || Warnings: Swearing, NSFW

A/N: It's finally here!!! Chapter 14, which deals with post break-up feels on Kate's end. It's not going to be pretty, but wasn't that to be expected? As always, we appreciate your patience and we hope you enjoy!

You can also find us on AO3:

@odinsonsobsessed - Mischievousbellerina

@mrshiddleston-uk - Crimson_peak

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Kate walked away from Tom’s house, trying to hold in the large sob that was threatening to escape from her chest at any moment. She desperately fought the urge to turn around to see if he was watching her, but she knew that if he was, she wouldn't be strong enough to not run back to him. Back into his arms, back to the man she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone in her life. But Kate had to remain strong and stick with her decision, even though it already made her sick with regret. It's for the best.

She quickened her pace as she emerged onto the main road back to her flat, tears blurring her vision. It was then that she realised she was holding her breath. She exhaled a heavy, shaky breath, keeping her head down and blinking a few times to try and clear her sight. Perhaps she should have thought ahead and had a taxi on standby to take her home. She knew she was going to be a mess, but maybe she'd hoped to have it a bit more together than this. 

A whole new wave of tears started to fall as Kate finally reached home and unlocked the main door to her building, beginning to climb the stairs. As she took the last few steps she scrubbed at her eyes, throwing herself off balance. She stumbled forwards, her knees and forearms hitting the hard concrete floor on the landing as she fell.

“For fuck's sake!” She hissed in pain as she picked herself up again, reaching across the floor for her keys which she’d dropped as she fell. Snatching them off the ground, she sat back on her heels and looked at her arms which were dirty and scuffed. Sighing, she sat down against the wall. “I’m such a fucking mess.” Kate stuttered, dropping her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, finally allowing herself to let go of all the emotions she’d been holding in over the last hour or so, as her cries echoed around the empty hallway.

Fourteen hours and thirty eight minutes. Fourteen heartbreaking hours and thirty eight miserable minutes ago, Kate had walked away from Tom and for most of the time since then she had been laying on her sofa. She had the same Spotify love song playlist on repeat, every song making her cry even more than the last time. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat - damn, she didn’t even want alcohol. She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole, putting her out of this misery that she only had herself to blame for. 

What had she done? She'd just thrown away one of the best things she'd ever had - and for what? Charlotte. She let that nasty, selfish woman wedge herself between her and Tom, and she won.

It's not just Charlotte. She told herself, It's the schedule, too. The constant disappointment and longing when he was away or busy. The loneliness.

God, she was needy. It was a wonder he hadn't broken up with her first for that alone. Maybe she did him a favor. Maybe once he got past the initial shock and sadness that overtook those beautiful features when she had left him, he'd feel relieved. Free.

Her google search history ranged from Can you die from a broken heart? to Is it really possible to cry your eyes dry? and the answer to both was yes. So she was pretty sure that in a couple of days someone would find her dead on her sofa with big, bulgy dried out eyeballs.

Suddenly her phone alarm started chirping, scaring the life out of her and making her jump so hard that she fell off the sofa. “Jesus!" she cursed, grabbing blindly for her phone on the table as she still lay where she’d landed. Finally getting hold of the device, she held it at arms length in front of her as she tried to swipe the screen across to silence the infuriatingly annoying chimes. Losing her one handed grip on it, it slipped from her hand and hit her square on the forehead. 

“Give me a fucking break!” She hissed, snatching it from her face and finally managing to make the noise stop. Yep, she was cranky. Sighing, she realised that her alarm meant she’d been awake all night and now she should be getting up to get ready for work. Crawling back into the sofa, she scrolled through her phone book and dialed Roxy's number. It rang quite a few times and Kate was about to give up when finally her friend picked up.

“Hey lady! I’m guessing you wanna grab breakfast before work? That’s the only reason you ever call me this early.”

“I can’t come in today, Rox." Kate's voice came out hoarse, her throat hurt from crying.

“Are you okay? Are you sick? You sound horrible.”

Kate had to take a breath and steady herself before she answered. Clearing her throat, she ignored the burning pain that lit the insides of her throat up. “I broke up with Tom.”

The line went silent and Kate pulled it away from her ear to check that the call was still connected.

“Roxy?” She questioned, wondering if she was still there.

“I’m here, I just… shit, Kate. What happened?" She paused, "This wasn't because of what I said, was it?" She could hear the guilt in Roxy's tone and she sighed.

“I… I can’t talk about it right now. I’m sorry Roxy. Not yet… and I can’t come to work today.”

“Are you okay though? I can come over after work?” Kate knew her friend was worried about her, but the thought of seeing anyone and having to talk about what had happened made her stomach turn. She just wasn't ready to face anyone yet.

“I’ll be okay, thanks. I just wanna be alone I think. I need to get my head together so I'm not a basket case during work.”

“Alright, well.. if you’re sure? Call me if you want anything, okay? And don’t worry about work, I’ll take care of it.

"Thanks Roxy.”

“Just promise you’ll call me if you need me, okay?”

“I promise. I’ll see you soon."

Kate hung up and stared blankly at her phone as she realised her screensaver was still the picture of her and Tom. Meaning to change it, she scrolled through her pictures, skipping quickly over any of Tom until she found one of her and Roxy making stupid faces into the camera. She saved it as her background picture and went back to Tom's. She lingered her gaze on her favorite picture of them, reminiscing over the memory of that particular day. Pain pierced through her heart and she went through, frantically selecting each of the pictures with Tom in them, with the intention of getting rid of them. Once they were all queued, her fingers hovered over the ‘delete’ button... but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to erase another part of Tom from her life. She locked her phone and threw it down on the sofa next to her, as she lay back against the cushions and closed her eyes after throwing her arm over them. 

Tom had loved her sofa. It was years old and pretty worn but every time he’d sat on it he would always make some sort of comment about how cozy and comfortable it was. Kate remembered how he used to stretch his legs out across it, taking up all the space so she would have to sit on his lap. Of course, she didn’t mind. But none of that mattered now, Tom would never sit on her sofa again, infact Tom would never be in her flat again. Her heart ached as the memories came flooding back. Their first kiss at her door step, their risky business in the taxi, their first time having sex… 

Kate was sure she had cried her eyes dry, but more tears escaped, pouring out of the side of her eyes as she thought about the man that she loved. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved Tom and yet she had broken up with him. God, she missed him already and it hadn’t even been a whole day yet. 

Kate didn't move much the entire day. She made herself eat a little bit and she tried watching some of her shows. She wanted to get lost in their drama instead of hers, but it only worked for so long. Finally about halfway through the day, she passed out from exhaustion, but she dreamed of Tom. She dreamt of him lying next to her in bed, his fingertips grazing her back as he gazed into her eyes. Sunlight shone across his cheekbones, highlighting their beautiful structure. His blue eyes were warm and full of love, her dream self felt so happy.

The doorbell ringing pulled her from her dream and she desperately fought to hold onto it. But she was unsuccessful, her eyes opening as she groaned. Who the hell was coming over unannounced? When she shook the fogginess from her head,  her heart raced and she wondered if Tom had come. Was he here to beg her to change her mind? To tell her he couldn't live without her?

Kate got up and checked her appearance in the bathroom, gasping as she took in her red, puffy eyes and her extra messy messy-bun. She quickly threw water on her face, washing it and patting it with a towel. She brushed out her hair to make it more presentable before throwing it back up a bit neater this time. Kate made her way to the door and exhaled, mentally preparing herself. She flung the door open hopefully, but the person standing there wasn’t Tom.

“Zack?”

“Hey doll.” He smiled at her sympathetically, his tone soft and vigilant as he eyed her appearance. ”Roxy called me and told me what happened… She was worried about you and I’ve been trying to reach you all day."

She blinked, surprised to see him standing there. "I… my phone must've died…" She mumbled, trying to sort through her thoughts.

His voice was so calming and she felt a comfortable warmth envelope her as her best friend stood before her. Kate burst into tears again, relief, disappointment and sadness all mixing together. Zack stepped forwards and scooped her up into a hug, squeezing her tightly, closing the door behind him.

"Oh Zack…" Her voice came out in a squeaky tone as she tried to speak through her tears.

"Shhh, it's okay." Zack hushed her, stroking her hair and letting her cry for a few moments before pulling back. When his fingers ran over her arms, he looked down with wide eyes. "What happened to you, Kate?"

"I… fell yesterday on my way home…" Heat rushed through her cheeks and Zack frowned. 

"And you didn't clean yourself up? Jesus Kate, come sit down." He guided her over to the couch and left the room, returning with a first aid kit and a wet cloth. He bent down on his knees and studied her arm, taking the washcloth and cleaning her up. "Always making me take care of you…" He held back a smile, shaking his head. The nurse in him was kicking in, he always did this when something happened. Always scolded her when she didn’t properly take care of a wound or did something dangerous to her health, like the time when she briefly picked up smoking. She tried to hide it from him because she knew what he’d say, but he caught her in the end and made her give it up.

"S-Sorry…" She sniffled, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"And stop doing that or you're not gonna be able to see soon. They're so swollen." He lightly pressed the skin around her eyes. “I wish you’d take better care of yourself.” He murmured took his hand away, shifting to get some ointment and a bandage. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asked, busy at work with applying the cream to her scrapes.

Kate shrugged as she stared into her lap, “I needed some time and…” She sighed, “I’m okay.”

He paused, looking up at her. “No you’re not.”

After considering his words, she decided she couldn't fool him. He knew her too well. Kate shook her head “No, I’m not. I’m not okay and none of this is okay.”

Zack stared at her for a moment before looking back down at her arm and resumed fixing her up. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He placed the bandages on and set her arm down, looking back up at her. Avoiding eye contact, Kate picked absentmindedly at the bandages.

“Hey…” Zack encouraged.

She sighed again and finally met his eyes, “Charlotte won.”

Zack sat back on his knees and opened his mouth to say something but Kate held a hand up to silence him, “Don’t say it, ok? Don’t tell me I should have fought for him, because I couldn't fight anymore! I’m tired, Zack. I’m tired of this whole situation and I have no fight left. So yeah, Charlotte won. She got what she wanted and I lost the man I loved more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. It’s done, it’s over. It’s all gone.”

Abruptly, she got to her feet and stormed away to the kitchen, getting a glass from the cupboard and opening the fridge to take out a bottle of wine. As she reached for it, she hesitated and withdrew her hand, closing the door and going back to the other side of the kitchen where a bottle of whiskey stood on the side. Tom’s bottle of whiskey. She glared at it for a few seconds before quickly undoing the lid. Opening the cupboard, she replaced her wine glass for a smaller tumbler style glass and poured a shot of Whiskey into it, immediately downing it and exhaling as she refilled her glass. 

“Kate.” Zack's voice came from the doorway

Without turning to face him she shook her head, “I’m exhausted, Zack. Emotionally and physically fucking exhausted. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t…” She trailed off as her voice broke and she started to cry again. Zack crossed the room quickly and turned her around, hugging her as she started to sob heavily,

“It’s okay, doll. Everything’s going to be alright, I promise."

“Is it?” Kate stuttered into his chest, “Because at the moment it doesn’t feel like it. It just hurts. It hurts so much that I can’t even think straight!"

Zack released her, gripping her shoulder gently so that he could look at her. “It’s gonna hurt for a while. And you’re gonna scream and shout and cry a whole lot more. But I’ll be here with you, and in between all that stuff, we can eat our body weight in junk food, drink alcohol, watch hours of Netflix and be social recluses until you’re ready to face the world again.”

He bent his knees so he was the same height as Kate and smiled at her “How does that sound?”

Biting her lip, Kate smiled back at him weakly and nodded “Thank you.”

Aside from running home to pack an overnight bag with a few needed essentials, Zack vowed to not leave her side the entire weekend. He was there through every break down, sat through every sappy movie Kate wanted to watch and he listened to her when she was finally ready to go into detail about what had happened the night that Kate decided to end things with Tom.

By Monday morning, Kate was up and showered, preparing to go to work. She had thought about taking an extra day off, but what was the point? She had her couple of days to get her head straight and she didn't really want to miss another day of work, since she had taken quite a bit of time off earlier in the year for her holiday with Tom.

It was all thanks to Zack for keeping her sane through this and she felt like she could get through her day without breaking down again. 

He insisted on walking her to work, so they left a little early to grab some coffee from her favorite shop to perk herself up a little more. Kate grabbed one for Roxy and as she did, she began to feel anxious to see her. She needed her friends now more than ever and she felt really lucky to have one so dependable and another to be able to work with and see every day.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright? You're not going to call me from Pizza Express again, are you?" He hadn't meant that as a jab at Kate, and she knew that. His look of concern was genuine and she appreciated how accommodating he was being, having moved his work schedule around for her without her even having to ask.

She gave him a smile after she finished a sip of her coffee as they walked along the sidewalk, approaching the museum. "I'll be fine."

"I can come see you at lunch?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll be okay Zack, I'm going to have lunch with Roxy. I'm sure she'll want to chat about everything. I've barely talked to her all weekend and I feel awful, I know she was just trying to look out for me."

"Alright, if you're sure… but I'm only a phone call or text away!"

Kate turned toward him, throwing an arm around him, "Thank you for everything this weekend. Really, I appreciate it."

Zack nodded and returned her hug. "I'd do anything for you, Kate, you know that."

Kate smiled, "Will you come over tonight for dinner? I'll make you something."

He squinted his eyes, "No more sappy kissing movies and we have a deal."

She laughed, "Deal."

Kate walked into the museum with her head held high after she'd parted ways with Zack outside. She was determined in trying to have a decent day at work and not think about Tom. Well, aside from the talk Roxy was going to want to have and she couldn't blame her, she'd given her hardly anything when they'd spoke the day Kate had called off.

When she walked into the office, she found Roxy already hard at work on her computer, so she simply dropped the cup off on her desk and went to go sit down at her own.

"Hey." Roxy stopped typing and cautiously watched her sit.

"Hey Rox." Kate set her bag down and booted up her computer.

"How's it going?"

Kate swallowed back the lump forming in her throat and she sighed, realizing she was already beginning to get emotional. "It's going… I feel a little better than I did the other day, but not much." 

Roxy shot her a sympathetic look. "It's going to take time. Time and… lots of wine."

Kate let out a shaky laugh, trying to hold herself together. "Already got that covered." She forced a grin and Roxy laughed along with her.

"But seriously though, you're going to get through this. Especially when you have friends like me and Zack. There will be other guys, Kate. I know it sucks now, but you'll find someone even better than Tom and you won't even think twice about him!"

Kate's chest tightened at the thought of having to date again, to move on from Tom and be with somebody else. "I highly doubt that… I-" She shook her head, holding back the tears that were pricking her eyes. "I don't know if I'll ever get over him. I just… I know that it was only a few months, but it felt real Rox. Like sure, we had a lot of amazing sex and it was fun, but it was more than that, it was special, like nothing I’ve ever had with anyone else before. He was the first person I’ve ever imagined a future with." She paused to sigh before continuing “Maybe if we’d met in a different time and place, under different circumstances, we could have had a future. But here and now, no matter how much I loved him, it was too complicated. I couldn’t be the person he needed and deserved."

Roxy reached across her desk and put her hand on Kate's. "It's still early, Kate. I know that it hurts and I can understand you're feeling that way, but it'll be okay."

"I know…" Kate grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes that were damp with unshed tears. "Right now, I just miss him so much. At times like these, whenever I was feeling down or upset about something, I could just call him and it's like his voice alone made everything better."

Roxy stroked the back of her hand comfortingly as she listened, nodding in acknowledgement. "It's okay. You have me and Zack, okay? I know we're not Tom, but we're here for you Kate. Any time."

Kate nodded, sniffling. God, this is exactly what she wanted to avoid. She did not plan on crying over this today. "I know Roxy and I appreciate it."

Roxy proceeded to calm her down for a few more minutes before they had to get to work on their upcoming project. It was just what Kate needed, to throw herself into something to be able to forget about Tom even for just a little while. Work ran late and she quickly texted Zack to let him know she was on her way home as she headed out of the office, but he was already standing outside of the museum waiting for her. 

For the next two weeks Zack stayed with Kate at her flat, and every morning he would walk her to work on his way to his shift at the hospital, and every night when he finished he would come back to the museum and meet her so they could travel home together. Kate didn’t think she could ever thank him enough for how much he’d done for her and how he’s been there for her since she’d split up with Tom, and she was pretty sure she would have gone crazy if she’d been in her flat alone for the last couple of weeks. Some evenings her and Zack barely spoke, they just chilled on the sofa watching tv, but just knowing Zack was there if she needed him was reassuring enough, like he was her safety blanket. 

There was one evening that Zack had some errands to run on his way home and wouldn’t be passing the museum to meet Kate after work, so he told her not to wait up and he'd meet her at her flat.

“You gonna be okay getting home without Zack?” Roxy asked as Kate pulled on her jacket and switched her computer monitor off.

“I’ll be fine, Rox." Kate reassured her with a smile.

She gave her a casual wave goodbye and made her way down the corridors and out of the museum onto the street. She stopped briefly to pull her EarPods out of her bag, sliding them into her ears and starting one of her more upbeat playlists for the walk to the tube. 

As she got on, she thought about what her and Zack could have for dinner later on. She'd forgotten to check what she had back at the flat to make, so she might need to run to the store if she didn't have anything sufficient. Deep in thought, Kate stepped off when the tube reached her stop after nearly missing it. There were a lot of people getting on and off, which was normal for rush hour, so she just weaved in and out of people.

Suddenly, she caught sight of the back of someone extremely familiar. Her heart quickened in her chest and before she knew it, she was rushing after them, shoving past the crowds of people to catch up.

"Tom!"

How could he be here? Of all the places and times, he was-

Kate reached her hand up to touch his arm, but when he turned to look at her with confusion on his features, her stomach dropped. It wasn't Tom.

"Sorry, I-I thought you were…" She stuttered and ran past him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Was she really expecting it to be Tom? She felt so silly for even thinking that it was him, that she was hoping it was. It was for the best that it wasn't him... So why was she so disappointed?

Once Kate left the station, she rounded a corner and collapsed onto a nearby bench. She hunched over and dropped her head in her hands while taking a couple of deep breaths. She could not break down here. After taking a few minutes to compose herself, she started for her flat. Tears slipped down her cheeks the entire way home, unable to do anything but cry as her heart ached for Tom. Would it always hurt like this? Would it ever get any easier? 

She shoved her key into the lock when she arrived at her flat and let herself in. When she shut the door, she began to take off her shoes and heard footsteps approaching. As Kate slipped off both shoes, she looked up to see a concerned Zack.

"Kate? What's the matter?"

Instead of answering, she just shook her head and stepped forward, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around him. She began to cry, both out of relief to see him here already and out of sadness.

Without hesitation, Zack slid his arms around her and stroked her hair soothingly until she began to calm down. He pulled back and swiped his thumbs across her cheeks to rid of the tears on her face. "C'mon."

He slid his arm around her shoulders and guided her over to the couch, urging her to sit. He draped his arm over the back of the couch and waited for her to start talking. 

"I thought I saw him." She began, unable to look at him as she confessed what she'd just done. "There was a crowd of people at the station, I thought Tom was there and I just… I went for it. Without even thinking, I rushed after him. Only it wasn't him." She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. "What did I think was going to happen if it were? I…" Her voice cracked.

"It's okay…" Zack reached over to rub her arm comfortingly as he gazed at her with sympathy.

Kate shook her head, "It's not. It's not okay. I'm not okay."

Zack pulled her into another hug and Kate wrapped her arms around him, welcoming the embrace. It felt so good to be in his arms, it was so soothing and she felt so safe. He was always there for her no matter what.

"I was so stupid, Zack." She mumbled into his chest as he stroked her back.

He pulled back slightly with a soft expression, "You're not stupid. You're so smart, Kate. I think you're sweet and genuine, and you've got a big heart." 

"Then why hasn't he called, Zack? I tried not to let it bother me, but it's been two weeks since I walked out that door and he hasn't once tried to reach me! I mean, I'm not expecting him to come and sweep me off my feet, but… doesn't he want me back? Doesn't he care?" Her eyes were watering again and she desperately tried holding it in. Her chest tightened up again at the thought that Tom didn't care enough to at least try to talk to her. She was torn between not wanting to be swayed into getting back together with him and being disappointed that he didn't even try. Kate thought she would go crazy, her mind tugging her in both directions until Zack brushed her hair back from her face, the sudden tender gesture distracting her from the torment going on inside.

"I can't speak for him, I don't know what he's thinking. But what I do know, is that he's an idiot for letting you go so easily."

For a brief moment, Zack's words melted her heart and caused a temporary lack of judgment. It felt so nice to have someone care for her that it tugged on her heartstrings and before she knew it, she found herself stepping over a line she had no business crossing.

Kate closed the distance between them, her lips brushing over his. It was light, tentative at first, until Zack cupped her face and began to kiss her more firmly. His lips were soft and warm, his breath hot and pulling her in further. She was getting lost in kissing him as his tongue demanded entrance, sweeping across her bottom lip. Kate parted them, allowing him to explore her mouth, to brush his tongue against hers. Zack slid a hand to her back and she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her hands rubbed just underneath the collar of his shirt while he ventured his own under the hem of her top, sliding them up and down her back.

While kissing Zack felt good, it didn’t feel right. His touch didn’t light her body on fire like Tom’s did. She didn’t ache for him like she ached for Tom the moment his lips collided with hers. He wasn’t Tom.

“Kate…” Zack’s breathless utter of her name between kisses brought her back to reality. “I-...”

Kate pulled back with a gasp once she realized what she was doing. Zack was her best friend! She should not be sitting here right now with his tongue halfway down her throat! She looked at him with wide eyes, mortified that she even went down this path. Oh god, what he must think of her, suddenly attacking him like that!

“Zack, I…” She placed her hand over her mouth to steady her thoughts. When she pulled it away, she started spewing out her apologies. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.” She scooted backward to give them space and Zack stared at her, his chest heaving. “I’m sorry.”

“Kate, Kate… It’s okay.” He grabbed for her hands, but she pulled them away as she shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I lost my head for a moment and I guess I was craving closeness with someone and I just…” She exhaled deeply and gave him an awkward laugh. “I just miss Tom so much, you know? It was stupid of me and I totally regret it. Forgive me?”

Zack studied her face with an unreadable expression before looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay, really.” His eyes met hers once more and he forced a smile. “We can just forget about it…” Suddenly he grinned, any trace of discomfort gone from his face. “Although, I thought it was pretty great.” His tone sounded a bit off, but Kate brushed it off.

She cracked a smile, “It was, wasn’t it?”

Zack laughed for a moment before clearing his throat. “Anyway, um… If we’re going to eat, I should run to the store, because you have like, no food.”

Kate frowned, “I don’t? Shoot, I can go, I-”

“Don’t worry about it. I have to grab a couple of things for myself anyway. I’ll go.” Zack jumped up and grabbed his keys off of the table. “Be back soon!” He called, making his way out of the flat.

The moment the door closed behind him, Kate blew out a breath and flopped onto her back. What the hell was that? Kissing Zack? What was wrong with her? She almost just wrecked her long time friendship with her best friend all because she missed her ex-boyfriend. 

He’d been spending so much time with her lately and taking such good care of her, she just… She thought that’s what she needed, but it was only confusing her. Zack being there all of the time was making her much too dependent on him and maybe it was time for him to take a step back and go home. He’d picked up all of the pieces of her broken heart, now it was time for her to begin to glue them back together. That was not his job and she couldn’t believe she let it go this far.

God, what a mess.

@fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @nikkalia @manager-of-mischief @spidey-bites @dangertoozmanykids101 @xxloki81xx @furstinnajoelle @just-the-hiddles @wholelottatiffy @libbymouse @kitsuneharo12 @michelegurl @I-cant-remember-my-old-login @thathedonistgirl @vethrvolnir2 @fairlightswiftly @jessiejunebug @ihthr @devilbat @exbandragirl @joyofbebbanburg @sabine-leo @mandapanda8 @officiallyunofficialperson @wolfsmom1 @littlefrogstuff @writingmi @drakesfiance @scorpionchild81 @little-moonbeam–666 @canadianjelly @originalsoulcollector @gorgeous1974 @teylacarter91

[rushmanatalie]

falling like the stars || ch. 2

Rating: E

Summary:  Steve and Tony learn some things about guilt, but before they can forgive each other, they must slowly find their way toward forgiving themselves.

Notes:  I'm so sorry for the *almost* two month delay. This is my first attempt at a multichapter fic and I struggle with being happy with anything I write, which just means I write two sentences and then delete them over and over again, but I think I can work with this version. Thanks for the love and encouragement, they have definitely helped me through times when I thought of just giving up on this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Read on Ao3

Tony’s been through hell and back. He’s looked into the eyes of death, dared death to take him, and each time, death has granted him mercy. But when he watched Peter disappear in his arms, helpless, he wished his end would come too.

And now, standing in front of the Parker residence, he truly does wish death had come for him sooner.

He’s ashamed that it’s taken him this long, but everytime he came here, every single goddamn time, he would stop himself from knocking on that door, because the thought of seeing May in an empty apartment grieving her child (because Peter really was her child) while he was finally living the life he’s always dreamed of with a family he’s always wanted destroyed every last remaining drop of courage inside him. 

But today is different.

Today is the day Tony Stark finally owns up to the death of Peter Parker.

There’s a quick shuffling on the other side of the door, then a stillness, a vague hesitation, and suddenly it’s flung wide open. It isn’t until he’s face to face with her that he realizes he’s been holding his breath, letting it go only to say a hasty hello. She’s changed, as people do with time, but the three years look like a decade on her. A knit cardigan is pulled loosely over the white shirt and jeans that seem too big for her now alarmingly smaller frame. Her hair is speckled with grey, less than his own, but much more than most people have at her age. And her eyes. Behind the wide-rimmed glasses are eyes that have felt too much loss, too much pain. 

It’s your fault.

“Mr. Stark.” It’s not so much a greeting as it is a note of surprise.

His hands have somehow found their way into his pant pockets, an effort to hide the physical manifestation of his growing anxiety. “Tony,” he corrects nonchalantly, following it with a grimace that would have been a smile had the circumstances been any different.

They stand there in an awkward indifference for a moment longer than he’s comfortable with before she invites him in with a simple gesture toward the living room. 

Everything looks the same, if a tad messier; then again, he barely remembers how it was before. Last time he was here was when he and Steve…

No. Now was not the time for a walk down that memory lane.

May frantically shoves empty chip bags, clothes, and dirty dishes away, clearing the couch enough for him to have a seat. “Sorry for the mess, I—um...well, I wasn’t expecting company, but uh…please, make yourself at home.” She makes her way to the doorframe where the kitchen meets the living room, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, more out of a habit of fidgeting rather than for appearance. “Would you—would you like some tea? A coffee or something, maybe?” 

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll really only be here for a minute. But thank you.”

Another silence settles into the room, into his bones, and he almost wishes this one could last forever because he fears the inevitable question.

“So, why are you here?”

He lets it linger, lets it hang in the air for a second too long. Despite having had three years to think about his answer, he wasn’t ready. Nothing could prepare him for this.

“You know, my daughter turned one yesterday. We had this little celebration, just us, picnicking in the yard out by the lake. I mean, it wasn’t—wasn’t anything fancy. But it didn’t matter, because there was my wife, and our girl, and the sunset on the water. It was just...so beautiful. And still, all I could think about was all the people who lost that.” His eyes glance down because he can’t bear to look at her for this part. “People like Peter. So, I guess I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

She crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall in some sort of confusion. “That’s a long way to come for condolences. And to be frank, I don’t really have a need for those—”

“His death is on me.” He makes the mistake of looking up, and his heart sinks. Her expression is one he can’t quite read, yet is familiar with and understands completely. A shocking devastation, an acceptance. “It’s on me.” There’s a burning in the back of his throat, the one that is usually accompanied with tears, and he barely manages to get the words out before he chokes.

May’s silent, and somehow, it’s worse than anything he ever imagined she would say. When she finally moves, it’s toward the hallway, only beckoning him to keep up with a slight nod of her head.

She leads him to the last door on the right. It’s been years, but he knows this room well. Blue walls covered in random New York stickers and Star Wars posters, desk still a mess of notebooks and tinkered gadgets, all covered in a layer of thin dust. The closet was left open and nearly empty, his clothes packed neatly in multiple boxes on the floor.

“I just started putting his things away,” May suddenly says from behind him. She crosses over to one of the smaller boxes in the room and pulls out a small, wooden picture frame. “I couldn’t bear to come in here. Couldn’t look at his stuff, let alone touch them.”

He follows as she sits down onto the bed, its rusted, unused springs creaking under her weight. The photo rests in her lap as her thumb traces over it with a tenderness he now knows from experience is something only parents reserve for their child.

“I wanted someone to blame. And I’m going to be honest, for a long time, I blamed you. God, at first, it was so easy to blame you. But somehow it got harder and harder to tell myself it was your fault. Because it wasn’t. Whatever happened with Thanos, the… the snap, no one could have stopped that. And even if it was you who got him involved and put him in danger, I have to be thankful that you gave him the chance to fight when others couldn’t.”

She reaches out and places the frame in his hands, gently closing his fingers around it. “It’s not on you, Tony. Don’t put yourself in that position. That guilt, it’s heavy, and not yours to carry.”

Only now does he see the contents of the photo. Who had taken the picture, he doesn’t remember, but it’s of him and Peter the night of the Stark internship banquet. Peter beams as he holds his certificate in one hand and puts up bunny ears behind Tony’s head with the other. It feels like they’d just taken it yesterday, yet the memory has faded, blurred at the edges.

Fine, you get one picture, kid. But just so you know I’d have other people pay me for this. 

When he smiles, he barely notices the tears running down his cheeks to the corners of his lips, but the bitter salt comes with a wave of relief, and for the first time in years, Tony felt free.

—————————

Seventeen chairs sit in a circle in the center of the room. Three years ago, it would have been fifty. 

Steve likes to think of it as progress. 

It’s been like this for the past two months. People come and go. Everyone has good days, bad days, days in between, but they’re here when they need it, and sometimes that’s enough.

At least, it’s enough for him.

They take turns speaking, sharing, healing. Some just sit in to listen, and he allows them to do so silently, as unnoticed figures in the back of the room, but today, he finds himself paying more attention to them than usual, looking for the familiar shadow of Natasha, hoping that this time, she finally joins.

“I thought I saw her the other day.” Nolan sits next to him, a tall man merely a couple years older than Steve himself (sans the seventy years spent in ice, of course). He’s one of the few that’s been here since day one, always open to sharing and likewise, there to listen.

“There was this girl with long brown hair walking by and she was wearing this red sweater that looked just like hers. It wasn’t until I saw her face that I really realized it wasn’t. You’d think three years later I could learn to move on, but the truth is, it just gets harder. I can’t move on, because every time I do...every time I try, I can’t help but feel guilty for it.”

The room falls into a pensive silence as all eyes turn to Steve, awaiting some sort of validation, wisdom, advice. All of which, he is aware he’s better at giving than following. Rarely does the thought occur anymore now that it’s been years, but sometimes he thinks about how much better Sam would have been at this whole thing.

Sam. The memories have gradually become less painful as parts have begun to fade away, but there are some things that never leave. He sees Sam’s smile in window glares, hears Bucky’s voice in passing cars, telling him not to make any stupid decisions until he gets back. He’s not coming back.

Steve still has to remind himself of that. It’s hard when Bucky had seemingly come back from the dead once; Steve almost expects him to turn up at any moment again. But it’s different this time. They’re gone.

Gone.

“It’s difficult, I know, but every step forward is a step forward.” Steve rests his elbows on his knees, releasing a pent up sigh. “When I came out of the ice, I lost everything. I lost people I loved. Friends. Family. And it took twelve years, but I finally found a new one. It doesn’t replace the one I lost, but it reminds me that happiness is within our reach. We just have to learn to take the little victories. And we have to try. Try to move on, because it’s what they would want. ”

When the clock strikes four, the group disassembles. Chairs are stacked back up against the wall, hands are shaken, hugs and numbers given as people slowly file out the room. Steve remains as he usually does to answer questions and exchange the occasional pleasantries with regulars, watching as the last few leave.

Just as the doors swing shut behind the final attendee, a loud buzzing interrupts the lonely quiet. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and reads the name displayed on the glowing screen before deciding to answer.

“Rhodey?”

“Steve—” there’s a strange sense of relief in his voice.

“Rhodey, what’s going on?” Before he answers, Steve feels like he already knows the news and it fills him with dread.

“Steve, you have to get down here now. It’s Nat.”