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pookapics · 4 years

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Way down to Hadestown - MafiaBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

The 1930's has its own challenges for a young singer like (YN) but when she finds her lover with another girl, she has no choice but to hustle to get the money to get the hell out of dodge. But what happens when a mysterious blue eyed strangers enters the club she sings at and gives her a ticket out of this place. Will she take the offer, especially after she realises that the offer is coming from Steve Rogers, Leader of the Avengers Mob and the 'King of New York'? She's desperate and heavily drawn into Steve's charms but will she go? And is there a catch in this chance for freedom?

Warnings : Mafia!SteveRogers, Mobsters, Heartbreak, Cheating, Eventual romance, Sexual innuendo, Age-Gap (Reader is 21 and Steve is 30 so 9 year difference), Hints of violence

Masterlist - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189126314108/way-down-to-hadestown-masterlist-mobbosssteve

Next Chapter - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189109817228/way-down-to-hadestown-mobbosssteve-rogers-x

Chapter 1 : Hey Little Songbird

New York, 1933 - Wintertime

Your POV

Smoke wafted in your face as you entered the club you worked at, your tattered brown coat wrapped around you tightly as your shoes stuck to the sticky floors of the club where drinks had been dropped numerous times, stains upon the floor. Times were tough, simply not enough money for anything.

Living off scraps from the club like a stray dog.

Empty promises raised their nasty heads as you entered the dressing-room round the back. The empty promises that once escaped your high-school sweetheart’s lips. Promises of a better home, better food and the wedding you always dreamed of. But he was a singer, singers like him liked to butter up a girl until they got bored or famous.

Both happened to you and your lover.

The sweet harmonies the two of you once sang together long forgotten . What remains now is a cold bed, an empty stomach and having to witness your boyfriend sleeping with some other girl.

The sweet puppy love was gone, it was now tarnished and unable to return to what it once was. Tears began to form in the corner of your eyes as you saw Wanda, your long-term friend and colleague. You pushed them back as you saw her open her arms for you, last night when you found out about your boyfriend and his little thing on the side you’d called Wanda from a payphone near the affluent bar your ex worked at, Wanda was working at the time but rushed to the phone when she heard the bouncer calling her over about how you were crying and needing Wanda. You knew that the whole club knew what happened but you in your tearful state the night before could not stop yourself from crumbling down as soon as the Bouncer answered the phone. Wanda’s voices pulled you back from reflecting on what happened just the night before

“That scumbag will get what’s coming to him! I promise!” her accent thickened as her rage increased, you giggled weakly and smiled slightly “Thanks Wan, I’m just going to work my ass off for those tips and save to get my own place.” You couldn’t stay at your shared apartment anymore, too many memories that would make you crumble.

He cheated on you, there is truly no going back from that betrayal. He pushed you away for his fame and career and slept with another girl. You couldn’t stay with a man who broke your heart in two ways. He was one of those faux-rich kind of men, ass-licking the big dogs in the most luxurious spots in town, enjoying the high-life. Meanwhile, you’re stuck singing in a sleazy club for a few dollars here and there.

He abandoned you, and you wanted out.

Reaching for the clothes rack in the dressing-room,you picked up a long white dress which trickled to the floor elegantly. The fabric was silky and ornate in its intricate design details, this dress was a hang-me-down from the previous girl who worked here before you, a girl called Birdie if you remembered correctly. Going behind the changing-screen, you slid the dress on, it accentuated your figure in all the right places. With a glance to the mirror, you smiled, the dress made you look heavenly in aura, graceful like a swan in flight. Over at the vanity, you picked up a handful of bobby-pins to slide into your hair, smoothing down the frizz and stray hairs which you tamed with a waft of your finger. The final touch was the lipstick, a splatter of red tinged your lips, it was a deep red which complimented your skin tone divinely, the one luxury you bought for yourself in this troubling time of economics.

You were ready to start your set of songs, before that you decided to peek through the red curtains of the stage to see if any patrons were sat at the booths, you usually took requests from them for an extra dollar or two, made sure you came home with a heftier amount of cash than if you didn’t. It was early in the day for the club so it was quite barren, bar the boss, Big Louis and his gaggle of goons who smoked close to the bar as Pietro, Wanda’s twin mixed drinks quicker than it took to neck a shot.

But that’s when you noticed in the corner of your eye that one booth was taken, one booth which held one man on his own. A man you’d never seen before round the club. He sat on his lonesome with a glass of whiskey in hand, staring deeply into it. You had to admit that this man was beyond attractive, he oozed a sense of power and control and as if the whole bar and everyone in it was at his command, that power made you subconsciously bite the corner of your lip out of nerves and out of another emotion you couldn’t pin-point exactly. His suit was perfectly pinched and altered to fit the man’s form which was built like a god, like one of those Greek god statues you’d seen in a Museum of history once.

You pulled back slowly from the curtains, cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink which you’d just put down to the rouge you applied to your cheeks. Mentally, you prepared to head out there just when Ricky, one of Big Louis’ goons turned the corner and squawked “Oi! The Boss wants ya!” you turned to face him “But I’m about to start my se-” you were rudely interrupted by him “The Boss wants you now!” he snapped and insisted, you sighed and walked round back to get to the bar, not wanting to face the stranger in that lone booth just yet.

“You needed me, Sir?” you spoke shyly, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress, watching as Big Louis turned around, cigar in one hand and a drink in the other “Yeah Toots, I was hopin’ you could entertain our ‘guest’ up front?” he asked which made you frown “Just him?” you could see Big Louis visibly gulp as he glanced to the stranger’s booth “Yes. Just him. Do whatever he asks. I’ll pay you double hey triple! IF you do this for me. A small favour really!” There was a flash of desperation in his eyes, you’d never seen Big Louis so shaken before, he was the big boss of this place and took no funny business from anyone. Yet this new patron had him physically shaken and desperate? Briefly, you nodded in agreement, you needed that cash and it would get you the hell out of dodge.

Turning on your heels, you headed straight for the booth which is where the ‘guest’ was seated at. Glancing to the doors for a small moment, you saw the bouncers guarding the door alongside four new men dressed in full suits, not letting anyone enter or exit. As you approached, you felt the stranger’s eyes on you, they were a striking shade of blue you noticed as you got closer to the booth. His eyes never left you, you’d never felt so anxious or intrigued by a man before. The blue-eyed stranger took a swig of what seemed to be whisky, letting it swirl in the glass slightly, his eyes never left you as he cleared his throat to speak “Hey little songbird~” you froze, his voice was as alluring as his eyes, it had a hint of danger interlaced in its melodic tone but that only further drew you in.

He spoke up again “Gimme a song? I’m a busy man and I can’t stay long.” He cracked his knuckles “I’ve got clients to call, I got order to fill… I got walls to build.” he smoothed out his jacket for a moment and reached his hand out in your direction as if motioning for you to sing for him. And in that moment, your mouth went very dry.

‘I got riots to quell

And they're giving me hell back in Hades...’

How could one man have such power and control over you, it was baffling. From what he’d said, you knew he was a man of power. That was already evident when you first laid eyes upon him and from just seeing his mannerisms and the perfectly pinched and altered designer suit. But you couldn’t tell or know just how powerful he was, you drew a blank when you tried to comprehend that.

Suddenly, you realised you’d been silent and had let your mind drift astray and didn’t return to the current conversation till he spoke again “Little Songbird, Cat got your tongue?~” he teased which flustered you, leading to your fingers playing with the material of your dress as he began to chuckle “Always a pity for one so pretty and young~” he tapped his fingers against his glass, the rings he wore clinked against the glass gently.

‘When poverty comes to clip your wings

And knock the wind right out of your lungs

Hey, nobody sings on empty’

You’d recently turned 21, in this man’s eyes that meant you were young still, you could tell he was older but not drastic. You could tell he’d been aged by the world because of his eyes, they withheld pain and sorrow which could only be fully seen in the eyes of those who’d experienced the horrors of the current real-world of New York that everyone was trying to survive in. If you had to guess, he seemed to be at least thirty, definitely aged and in your eyes aged like a fine wine. He’d seen the world in ways you hadn’t and that further drew you in a led you to open your mouth and begin to sing for him “Strange is the call of this strange man, I want to fly down and feed at his hand, I want a nice soft place to land, I want to lie down forever…” You could feel his gaze upon your face, eyes were softly closed as you sang, you tried to keep yourself from shaking.

The man softly clapped, your eyes opened to see his face, his golden hair in the light reflected and made it resemble a halo or a crown as they were shrouded in dim lights, he reflected like a beacon. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before the drifted gently to your figure “Hey little songbird, you got something fine~ You'd shine like a diamond down in the mine~” He gestured to you with his hand before reaching into his jacket pocket with his other hand, retrieving a small white card and placing it on the table as he spoke up “And the choice is yours if you're willing to choose… Seeing as you've got nothing to lose~” he chuckled and reached to touch your chin with his thumb and forefinger, the feeling of the cold rings that were upon his fingers on your face made you shiver as he continued to speak as he held your chin “...And I could use a canary~” His voice resonated and grumbled which twinged something inside of you, something raw and unrefined.

Out of pure nerves and feeling the eyes of Big Louis on the back of your head you continued to sing, pulling away from his grasp on your chin “Suddenly nothing is as it was… Where are you now, Oscar? Wasn't it always the two of us? Weren't we birds of a feather…” the words which left your lips, the man’s expression changed for a moment, as if analysing your words in his head, before long he pat the seat beside him, motioning for you to take a seat beside him “Little songbird, let me guess he's some kind of poet and he's penniless?” He questioned as you sat beside him, you shyly nodded and stared down at the floor, how did he know that? It was as if he’d read your mind.

‘Give him your hand, he'll give you his hand-to-mouth

He'll write you a poem when the power's out’

The blue-eyed stranger was sat close to you as he kept speaking to you, as if reassuring you, the man which terrified Big Louis, was being compassionate to you? You felt his breath upon your shoulder, you shivered as he spoke again “Hey, why not fly south for the winter?” he motioned for the card which lay face down on the booth’s table in front of the two of you with his finger. You glanced to the table but your eyes fell upon a shape in his pocket, the shape of a gun on his thigh, you played with your hair out of nerves. He had a weapon and if he was as powerful as you’d thought, he had no qualms about firing that weapon in here…

He saw your gaze upon the shape in his pocket, and as sensing your nerves he smoothed his pant leg as if trying to brush it off.

The atmosphere in the club could be cut with a knife.

You were intrigued and scared of the man who was sat so close to you. But you were more intrigued and curious of the stranger, probably foolish of you but it was true. Feeling his hand upon your clothed back, it was a gentle touch as the other hand slowly reached to touch your chin, giving you enough time to pull away from him if you wanted, he waited to see if you pulled away from him. He sighed as he spoke “Little Songbird, what’s your name?” he asked, holding your chin gently as he awaited an answer, eyes locked on yours, your whole body tingling from the interaction, his voice soft and tender which danced in your ears, he felt strangely safe. Though he was dangerous, clearly, you still felt safe around him as if he could protect you.

“(YN) (LN).” You introduced yourself to the stranger, he nodded and hummed, it made a grumbling growl sound in his chest as he spoke once more to you “(YN), look all around you...See how the vipers and vultures surround you.” He motioned to those at the bar who stared at you intently, watching like a predator in the grass, you’d never been that observant to notice the type of looks they would give you. Only Big Louis seemed disinterested, knowing that in this moment you were protected by his ‘guest’. You felt a chill run up your back, how had you not noticed you were like prey to them. Memories of work-shifts when there would be sneers and glares and touches which lasted too long for your comfort, the smell of cigarettes lingered on your dresses on nights like those. How could you have been so oblivious. The only people you could maybe trust here was Wanda, Pietro and maybe this new stranger? Something was forming, was it trust or something else?

“They'll take you down, they'll pick you clean~ If you stick around such a desperate scene.” The stranger spoke, his voice in your ear which sent shiver down to your heart and made your body quiver, could you trust him? You looked at him, your lips slightly parted as he stared down at you.

Could you trust a wolf among a pride of hungry lions?

He whispered into your ear “See people get mean when the chips are down…” He growled which made you bite your lipstick stained lips. You stared up at him, you felt his breath upon your skin, eyes wide as he picked up the card that he’d placed on the booth’s table and handed it to you

‘SONGBIRD VERSUS RATTLESNAKE’

“What is it?” you asked, keeping your hand back until he answered you, the card still turned so you couldn’t see what was on the other side, your eyes glanced up to his and he held the card out to you, holding it between his forefinger and thumb “Your ticket.” He flipped it around to show his name on the other-side and a number. Your eyes widened as your eyes fell upon the name on the card

‘Steve Rogers’

The notorious leader of the Avengers Mob, he’d been involved with mob activity in the city since he was in his teens. From the Howling Commandos, to Shield and now the Avengers. He’d risen into power over the years. He was feared and loved by the city, depended on who you were and who’s territory you were living inside of. Your eyes fluttered up to Steve Rogers, who’s eyes were on you. You’d gained the interested of a notorious Mob Boss.

The interest of the ‘King of New York’...

And here he was. Giving you a ticket to his secret paradise. It was only spoken about in rumours about the secret underground run by Steve Rogers and the Avengers Mob. Anyone who wasn’t a part of the family wasn’t allowed in or out, that’s why it was only myth and rumour. No-one in the Avengers Mob was brave enough to rat out the location as they knew it would mean there would be hell to pay if they ever did.

Steve Rogers didn’t know you, why would he let you in? You reached for the ticket and stared at it, your finger brushed against Steve’s, you grasped the ticket as Steve’s hand picked your other hand up and brought it to his lips, laying a kiss upon your knuckles “The choice is yours. Just know this… I desire to learn more about you, to know you. To learn your quirks.” he stopped speaking for a moment and stared at you “I want to know your dreams and goals.” his voice soft and sounded like poetry, like the promises your ex used to make. You stopped that train of thought as he spoke again

“I could give you anything you desire, anything you ask of you could receive. Treated like the little goddess that you are turning into~ But… That choice is up to you.” He pulled back from you and rose to his feet, leaving you sat there in the booth, his finished whisky glass upon the table. You were frozen to the spot where you sat, clutching the ticket in hand. Steve bowed his head slightly “Thank you for the song, Little Songbird...” he winked and wandered over to Big Louis who simply shook his hand and spoke briefly. The voices of everyone was muffled, it was most likely the shock of all of this. He was giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, to get out of your old apartment where memories of your ex lingered and to be whisked off to what Steve made out to be paradise. You pondered what could be the catch, there was no such thing as true paradise on earth, there would always be darkness.

(YN) was a hungry young girl and Steve Rogers gave her a choice to make...

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #x reader #mafia!steverogers #mobboss!steverogers x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #alternate universe #eventual smut #captain america x female reader #bucky x reader platonic #mafia au #hadestown inspired

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aeannerambles-blog · 6 years

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Hot Chocolate

(Or the time Maia learns that some wishes do come true.)

I watched the sunrise from my bed, not being able to fall asleep the night prior. It was already six o’clock in the morning, and I could already tell that I’m going to be dead tired today. I sat on my bed in my empty apartment, staring up at the ceiling as clips of scenes from the previous day looped in my head like a movie - kind of like feeling him lean towards me so that he could hear me better when I spoke, kind of like feeling his arms next to mine and mine craving to graze his even just a little bit, kind of like feeling ten thousand butterflies fluttering their wings all over my system when he’d sat a little bit too close, or stood a little bit too close, or anything a little bit too close and I’d feel him a little bit too close. It almost feels silly to feel like this, especially when all we’d done was hang out at Winzel, our favorite coffee shop right down the street of my apartment, and it wasn’t even anything special, honestly. He asked me to help him edit an essay that he’d been writing for an exchange of a cup of my favorite hot chocolate and strawberry filled crepes. It’s funny that he knew the way to my heart without even asking for directions.

My heart feels weird, and an annoying pang in my chest won’t leave me alone. I always feel like this when it comes to him, regardless of what he does - let it be a stupid text or actually just being in his presence. The thing though, is that I can never actually tell what is going on between us. He’s my best friend, and he’s always been there for me, so naturally he knows exactly what to do to pull the little strings connected to my heart. It’s like one moment he hugs me a little bit too long, seemingly never wanting to let go, and then the next moment he’s gushing about some girl that he’s been crushing on.

I think maybe I’ve just been obsessed with the haze of the moment, but some moments are only beautiful in that moment that it happened, and once it’s over, so is the beauty of it. Maybe I’ve possibly liked him so much that I’ve deluded myself into over-analyzing the littlest things he does. Maybe sometimes when he lets me wear his jacket, it’s only because I was dumb enough to wear a thin sweater in the midst of New York’s winter, and he’s nice enough to let me freeze to death. Maybe sometimes when he wraps me in his arms, shushing me with the gentleness of his voice in the middle of my Oscar-worthy breakdowns, it’s only because he’s my best friend and he feels as if he’s responsible for the health of my well-being. Maybe there was nothing he’s trying to reciprocate, so then there shouldn’t be anything that I should be reciprocating.

I decided to stop moping and dragged myself out of bed. I put on the bunny slippers that he’d gotten me last Christmas to prevent my feet from getting cold, and looked out of the window to watch the busy streets wake up with the sunrise. I sighed blissfully and smiled to myself. The window had frosted with tiny little snowflakes clinging on the glass. Winter has definitely awakened, and New York is buzzing with Christmas feelings all over the atmosphere. From the distance, I could see children building snowmen, and sparkling lights and festive garlands have made their way on the walls of each neighboring building across my apartment.

I touched the cold glass of the frosted window and shivered, opening the blinds fully to let some sunlight in the room. I picked up my phone from my nightstand and scrolled through the notifications piling themselves on my screen, when his name had popped up with two texts from last night that I didn’t even see.

12/12/2017 10:28pm - From: Ian Thanks for helping me. It’s much appreciated, really. Gotta email you the finale when I finish it. (PS you’re my actual hero, you know that? God what would I do without you? Idk but I don’t wanna find out)

12/13/2017 3:09am - From: Ian Can’t sleep, you up? Down for some late night NY pizza? Cin showed me this new place down 5th ave, they’re 24hrs and so good

My heart fluttered at the first message, and my cheeks felt warm at the thought of him saying that he doesn’t want to be without me. Then, just like that, it all dissipated as he brought up Cindy. He’d met her online a few weeks ago, and I guess that they’ve clicked. He told me that they’ve met up a few times, and it’s obvious that he’s hardcore crushing on her because he honestly can’t shut up about her lately. Whenever we’ve talked, it’s always about something funny she said. Whenever we’ve hung out, it’s always about something cute that she did while they were hanging out. It felt never-ending, and it’s honestly kind of torturous every single time. It’s, like, damn it. He can’t ever allow me to melt for five seconds before freezing into oblivion the next second another girl comes flying out of his mouth. I rolled my eyes and grunted, tossing my phone on my bed and heading to the bathroom in pure annoyance; half because I wish he would just realize how hard I’m pining for him, and half because I’m frustrated with my own damn self. I got in the shower and vowed that as soon as I get out, his number is to be blocked until I can finally drill his stupid name out of my skin and his stupid smile out of my mind.

And then I paused because, of course, I’m not actually going to block his number. I say all of these things like I’m tough as shit, but everyone in the universe knows that he makes me all sorts of soft. I struggle going through a day without speaking to him, how would I ever believe myself when I say that I’m going to block him until I get over him?

When I got out of the shower, I quickly grabbed a bathrobe and wrapped it around myself. Then I proceeded to dry my hair and get dressed for my daily morning Winzel. I put on a black jacket and grabbed a pair of boots on my way out when I remembered that I left my phone on my bed. Upon grabbing my phone, I heard hard knocking coming from the front door so I swiftly made my way back to the living room, wondering who the hell would be knocking this early in the morning.

“I’m coming, Jesus, I’m coming!” I yelled at the person who’s still banging on my door, struggling to unlock the door with gloved hands.

When I’d finally unlocked it, I swung the door open with a very angry expression on my face, revealing a freezing Ian in a thin sweatshirt, worn out jeans, and a pair of snow boots. His hands were full with two large cups, Winzel’s Coffee Co. written between two coffee beans forming a heart, and a bag with the same logo was hanging from his arms. Snow glistened all over the beanie on top of his messy hair, and his lips were shivering hard from the cold. Did he walk all the way from his apartment, to Winzel, to here?

“G’morning,” he grinned and gave me one of the cups, “care for some hot cocoa?”

“Thanks,” I frowned, “why the hell were you banging on my door so early in the goddamn morning? You had me scared that cops were ought to get me for a meth lab I didn’t know I was running.”

“Why would the cops-... never mind.” he shook his head in amusement before letting himself in, and plopping on my beat up three year-old couch. God, I have to replace that. “You’re so weird sometimes, it amuses me.”

“You’re the weird one,” I said as I followed him and sat beside him, “what’s up?”

“What? I can’t bring my best friend her daily morning Winzel?” He scrunched his nose as if he was offended that I don’t seem to appreciate him, when in reality I appreciate him more than words could ever say. “I know how grumpy you get when you don’t get your daily dose of hot chocolate.”

“Can you blame me?” I stuck my tongue out before taking a sip. “Yummy. Warm. Creamy. Chocolatey. Winzel.” He let a throaty laugh out, and I suddenly felt a lump in my throat that nearly choked me, but I swallowed it back down.

“You’re not going to ask what’s in the bag?” He wiggled his brows, lifting the bag up in the air to emphasize that he’d gotten more than hot chocolate.

“I am, actually,” I said, “I don’t smell strawberry crepes, so what could it be?”

He just grinned and put his coffee on the mahogany coffee table before unpacking the plastic bag. He took two takeout foam containers and plastic utensils, handing one to me and keeping one to myself.

“Nope,” he shrugged, “a little birdy told me you’ve actually been dying to try their new Brussel waffles, so you’re welcome.”

I opened the box and sure enough, two rectangular waffles were stacked on top each other, with whipped cream, banana, walnuts, and chocolate sauce on top. My stomach quietly grumbled at the sight; if it looked good in the pictures, it looked and smelled even better in real life. I recalled telling him yesterday that I wanted to try it, but in fear of betraying my usual order, I decided to be loyal and ordered my usual strawberry filled crepes instead. I looked up at him with a bright smile, and he grinned proudly, as if he’d just accomplished a life goal.

“Well?” He shrugged. “Waddya waitin for? Let’s eat.”

I just rolled my eyes at him playfully and dug in, and neither of us said anything anymore after that. We both got quiet, enjoying our Brussel waffles and both too busy stuffing our mouths to say a word. I started to regret not getting this any sooner, because my strawberry filled crepes might be a classic, but this is damn good.

After a little while, Ian kept looking at me and at first, I thought he was just making sure I’m actually enjoying the food rather than just pretending because I feel bad that he made an effort to do this or something, but it started feeling weird after so many times.

“What?” I furrowed my brows. “Do I have something on my face?”

He grinned, dimples popping out of his cheeks as if they were taunting me to place a kiss on each of them. “So,” he started, “I took your advice and went for it.”

I raised an eyebrow to egg him to continue, but he took another pause to take a bite of his waffle and gulp down a rather big sip of his coffee. Then, he placed his fork down and looked me in the eye as if he was about to tell me that he’d found the cure to cancer.

“What I mean is,” he finally said after his long pause, “I thought about what you said yesterday, and you were right. I do let opportunities kind of just pass by because I’m a fucking pussy, but you were right that maybe I do deserve happiness too.” I smiled at his words, proud that he finally listened to me. In the years that we have known each other, Ian’s always held back on great opportunities because he’s always felt like he doesn’t deserve to amount to anything, even when I think that he’s too good for the whole entire world itself. “So,” he continued, “Cin and I are kind of a thing now.”

I almost choked on a walnut at his final sentence, and my smile had suddenly gone away. It’s as if the world had stopped spinning, and I’m clueless as to what even to say back to him. Do I say I’m happy for him? I mean, you know, for unselfish reasons, of course I’m happy for him. I can tell that he really likes this girl, and it’s not like he’s been the one to date around because like he said, he’s always let opportunities pass. He’s just always silently crushed on girls without actually doing anything about it.

“Oh,” I forced myself to say something - anything - because he was looking at me like he was waiting for my response, “thanks for the food, Ian.” I forced a smile, but he looked disheartened at my response. What was he expecting me to say?

“I mean, Cin’s so cool, you know?” He said before taking another bite of his waffle. “I was hoping we could plan something so you can meet her. Maia, you’re my bestest friend and your approval means a lot to me, you know that.”

“You don’t need my approval,” I tried to not sound as monotonous and careless as I could, but the annoying pang in my chest had gone back and I could actually feel my heart sink down and roll out of my own ass. “You’re my bestest friend too, Ian, I’m happy when you’re happy.” And if she’s what makes you happy, albeit my desires for it to be me, so be it.

I felt silly and dramatic, like some high school kid who was turned down to go to prom with her stupid high school crush. Except, of course, Ian was actually my prom date. But that’s not the point. The point is that as his best friend, it’s my duty to be happy for him because his happiness is genuinely my priority. But as someone who has fallen hard as shit for him? It’s kind of complicated.

I mean, who can blame me, anyway? Ian is gorgeous, there’s no denying that. And I mean this in the most Ian-might-have-been-the-most-gorgeous-man-to-roam-Earth kind of way; with his dark hair, broad shoulders, almond eyes, dimpled cheeks, and plump lips. Who the hell wouldn’t fall for him? It’s almost surprising me that I’ve only recently realized how much I actually liked him, honestly. I guess we’d been so close for so long that I’ve only ever imagined myself as his best friend, until months ago when one of our mutual friends, Ari, had pointed out that the way I always talk about him kind of indicates that I look at him as someone who is, I don’t know, more than my best friend?

“Means a lot to me, Maia,” he smiled before coming closer to place a peck on my forehead, “I have to go. I told Cin I’d pick her up for work. You want me to take the trash on my way out?”

“Yes, please.” I said quietly as my cheeks were still tingling from the warmth of his lips on my forehead. “Leave my hot cocoa, I’m not done with it.”

“Of course.” He laughed and just like that, I was watching him walk out of my apartment, and it was empty again.

The following week after Ian told me about Cindy, we’ve been speaking less and less. Mostly because all he’s talked about is her, and as much as I’ve forced myself to be happy for him, I was beginning to feel weary and grow tired of hearing the same things. It got a bit worse five days ago, when he’d told me he was skipping out on our Christmas tradition because Cindy had invited him to her Christmas party with her roommates and a few of their friends. I guess I’d stopped responding to him out of pure juvenile pettiness, but it wasn’t like I didn’t have the right to be upset either.

Every year, Ian had spent Christmas with me by bringing rented movies, microwavable popcorn, and a Swiss Miss hot chocolate gift set. We’d always picked a designated Christmas movie a week prior, and he picks everything up from a nearby Walmart during Christmas week. Both of us have an array of mugs that we’ve collected from this tradition, as the gift set always comes with matching mugs.

This tradition actually started the year that my parents decided to separate around Christmas time, and he walked to my house with It’s A Wonderful Life and a Swiss Miss gift set to try and cheer me up. And then, when midnight comes, before he goes back home, he tells me to make a Christmas wish; something that neither of us can tell each other until it comes true. (I’d always wished that my parents would get back together, but I only grew annoyed each year every time I realized that that’s far from reality. Then, he became my Christmas wish, but that doesn’t look like it’s close to reality either. Basically, wishes suck because that’s all they are: wishes.) He kept up with this even after we graduated, gone to college, and moved to our own apartments. That’s what Ian’s always been good at: keeping up with me.

Until now, I guess, that some things have changed. I’ve tried to tell myself that it’s nothing but a silly tradition that probably didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me. Maybe it’s gotten a bit old for him, and as we grow older, so do certain things in our lives. Still, I can’t shake away the infuriating feeling deep in my stomach. It’s like my brain is failing to wrap the concept that Christmas just won’t be the same this year.

Three days before Christmas, I decided that it would be best to just shrug it off, and tried to book a flight to Chicago to spend Christmas with my sister, Mila, and her husband and kids instead. I wasn’t about to stay in this apartment to mope all holiday, when I could spend it with my sister and her family. Plus, I haven’t seen my nieces in over a year, and I do miss them badly. I’ve always wanted to be around as they grow up, but mine and Mila’s lives have both gotten a bit too hectic, and keeping up while living in two separate states isn’t exactly easy.

My phone rang, interrupting my trail of thoughts. I paused the show that I’ve been half-attentively watching on Netflix to walk over to the marbled countertop where my phone laid flat. When I saw that it was Ian (of course - he’d been texting and calling me relentlessly, but I’ve been too busy being dead set on not speaking to him), I hovered over the decline button for three more rings before I finally decided to just let it ring. Maybe when I finally decide to talk to him, I can just say that some things came up. He’d understand. He always understands.

Recently, every time he called, he’d give up after two or three tries of being straight right to my voicemail. But for whatever reason, it wasn’t the case this time. He’d called five times now, and when I ignored his most recent call, he just called right back again. I was growing tempted of blocking his number, but of course I can’t do that because I think that’s kinda pushing it to the extremity of actual immaturity.

I’m starting to grow tired, but it’s kind of like the fatigue that no sleep could really fix. It was the kind of tiredness that I feel more towards myself, and often I find myself wishing that I had the power to transport myself into a different body just so I could try being someone else for the day. I don’t really have an answer as to why, but I know for a fact that much of that reason comes from the gaping hole that I have been feeling right in the middle of my chest. I miss Ian badly. I’d always thought that we completed each other. And of course it’s my fault that we aren’t speaking right now, but it’s like I’m stuck in an exasperating cycle.

A vexing cycle that has been leaving me restless and torn in the middle of the night, when the apartment is quiet, the streets outside are as loud as ever, and the growing anxiety I feel in my veins are deafening. In this cycle, I find myself constantly pacing back and forth my room, both torn and confused whether I should just say fuck it and call him. I owe him an apology, and I definitely owe him an explanation. But what do I even say? I’m sorry, Ian, I haven’t been talking to you because I’m a selfish, fucked up individual, who has been secretly pining over you and I couldn’t take the fact that you’re happy with someone else. God, I’m an awful mess.

Having enough of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to mess with my courage and picked up the phone, hovering over my call logs and scrolling through what feels like a thousand hundred missed calls from my very own best friend. I paused for a minute before inhaling a sharply and pressing on the screen to call him back. It only took one ring before he finally picked up.

“Maia!” He almost yelled, as if relieved to finally hear from me. “Geez, where the hell have you been? I’ve been texting you, calling you, but nada. Are you avoiding me? Maia, are you okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m really concerned.”

“I’m fine,” I spoke lowly, like I’m not actually excited to talk to him when in reality, I missed his voice so much, I felt a lump in my throat. “Really sorry about that, things sorta came up, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was ignoring you or anything like that.” I tried really hard to sound convincing, but my shaky voice was starting to betray me.

“Fuck that,” he almost sounded annoyed, “you always tell me when things come up. Is everything okay? Please be honest with me.”

“Yeah,” I scratched my forehead, going back on the couch and plopping down, my eyes fixating on the screen in an attempt to distract me from the panic that I feel deep in the pit of my stomach. “Don’t worry so much about me, okay? I’m fine, honest.”

“I’m just.” He sighed in frustration. “I’m worried about you. Can I see you? Is it about Christmas? I’m so sorry for missing it, we can do something tomorrow morning if you want.”

“Ian, I am fine.” I said firmly this time. “Honest. Stop freaking out. Don’t worry about Christmas, it’s not like it’s a big deal anyway. Plus, I’m going to Chicago, and my flight is tomorrow.”

“Chicago?” I could imagine him with a frown. “Can I see you tonight?”

“Um,” my voice shook with hesitation, but I decided to go with it anyway. “Sure, but I’m currently mid-episode of The Defenders, so you’d have to wait.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” he laughed, “I’m five minutes away, on my way over.”

“What?” I scrunched my eyebrows. “So were you just about to show up at my place because I wasn’t returning your calls? Aren’t you supposed to be at Cindy’s right now?”

“See you in five, Maia.” He said before hanging up.

I stared at my phone for a second after he hung up and bit my tongue so hard, I started to taste blood. I had so many things that I wanted to say to him, but I decided to seal the bottle instead. In about a week, none of this would honestly matter anymore, and I felt bad that I worried him that bad because of something so inconsequential.

I suddenly feel a surge of self-hatred for being so selfish. All these years, Ian’s always had my back and he’d always made sure that I have only what’s best for me. And all I could do is avoid him the moment that he’s with another girl, when I’d never even made it clear to him that I have really strong, developing feelings for him. It’s really selfish of me to worry him like that and make him think that he’d done something wrong, when it’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault because I can’t muster up any fucking courage to tell him how I feel about him, in fears that it would ruin our friendship. It’s all my fault because I shouldn’t have fallen for him to begin with, when I knew that it came with the risk of losing everything that we’ve ever had. It’s all my fault because I keep hoping that maybe he silently fell for me too, when he’s never even made a move, or shown any signs of reciprocation. It’s all my fucking fault, and god, I hate myself for it. What kind of a friend am I, honestly? A shitty, selfish, self-absorbed friend, that’s what.

But in all honesty, everything feels kind of out of my control. I want to talk to Ian, and be there for him, and be happy for him, but hearing him talk about Cindy hurts far too much. I want to take all of the annoying pain, shove them all in a bottle, and seal the bottle; but that also feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

I let a frustrated breath out and tossed the remote somewhere in the living room. Then I finally heard a knock, and as soon as I opened the door, Ian looked like he was nearly exploding. As usual, he’s holding a large Christmas gift bag and a never-ending grin was plastered on his face. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“If my hands weren’t full, I’d suffocate you in a big hug right now.” He said as he was letting himself in.

“What is this? Peace offering?” I joked, following him inside after locking the door behind me.

“No, but guess what.” He looked so excited, brown eyes glimmering with delight and dimples popping out of pure joy.

“Hm?” I cocked my brow in curiosity, quietly praying that this isn’t about Cindy again. I honestly don’t know if I can take it.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he handed me a paper bag and looked at me expectantly, like it’s on cue that I should open anything he ever hands me, ever. I peeked inside the bag and my heart skipped a beat as I carefully took what was inside out. Two sets of matching PJs, a box of microwavable popcorn, a blu-ray copy of The Polar Express, and of course: a box of Swiss Miss hot chocolate powders. This time, he opted out of the gift set. Instead, there were two white mugs that have been personalized. There were little snowflakes all over it, and in the front, two kids are sat in front of the TV while drinking out of matching reindeer mugs.

“Oh my god,” I whispered in awe, “this is so sweet.”

“Do you see what they’re watching?” Ian smiled warmly, looking down at me as I studied the mugs more.

I looked closely, and my heart jumped. The TV displayed what seemed like a cartooned version of It’s A Wonderful Life. Ian had personalized the first night of our tradition into a mug.

“So,” he sighed happily, “go change into the PJs, I’ll pop the movie in and get the popcorn and hot cocoa ready.”

I nodded with a beam, leaving for a second to go into my room and change. When I’d gotten back out, we were both wearing a white pajama with candy canes all over them, and a matching sweater - his with Santa Claus, and mine with Mrs. Claus. He gave me a thumbs up, grinning and patting the seat on the couch next to him. I sat next to him and grabbed a handful of popcorn, and putting some in my mouth. Ian grabbed the remote and started the movie, and we both silently enjoyed it.

Towards the end of the movie, as the conductor was getting ready to drop the children back home from the North Pole, I started running out of hot chocolate. I whispered to Ian that I was going to the kitchen to make more, and he paused the movie and let me know that he would wait for me.

I went to the kitchen to grab more hot chocolate from the box, finishing what was in my mug before opening another packet. But just as I was about to pour the powdered chocolate into the mug, I noticed that there was something written on the bottom.

To Maia. I love you. Always, Ian.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He really went above and beyond with this mug. I wonder how in the world did he think of this. I continued making my hot chocolate and when I got back to the living room, I sat next to him and just stared, smiling. He furrowed his brows and scrunched his nose at me, mumbling ‘weirdo’ underneath his breath. I laughed.

“I love you too.” I said. “This has been really sweet.”

“Ah, you saw it.” He sat up straight and looked at me. “I love you, Maia.”

“I know,” I smiled, “I love you too, Ian.” Except I mean it differently.

He smiled at me one more time before looking forward again and pressing play. What he’s done is really thoughtful, but I was starting to get that feeling again where my heart rolls completely down my chest and out of my own ass. I was back to silently wishing that all of this could last forever. He’s been my Christmas wish for quite some time now, but I know that once this is over, we’re going back to being the best of friends and he’s going back to pining over other girls while I pine over him.

I tried to shake the feeling away in fears of ruining the night, but it got worse and worse as the night progressed. I was starting to over analyze everything again, like whenever he’d lean and rest his head on my shoulder, or every time we’d both grab popcorn and our fingers would brush each other, or every time he’d smile at a scene that he knew I liked and would look over at me to see if I’d give the same reaction I’ve been giving for years. But at some point, it all felt too much and my body went through overdrive. I grew quiet and a bit distant, hesitating to touch neither the popcorn nor my cup of cocoa, and only half paying attention to the movie as my night slowly evolved into a lot of unnecessary over thinking.

“Maia,” he spoke quietly and I realized that the movie was over, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I panicked from all of the pent up anxiety I was feeling, “what’s up?”

“You’re being horribly quiet,” he sat up and faced the way that he did earlier, “you’d tell me when something’s wrong, right?”

“You’re being silly,” I chuckled nervously, “I’m okay. You leaving soon?”

“No,” he shook his head, “not til we get our midnight Christmas wish.”

“But Cindy’s party-”

“Maia,” he interrupted me, “I’m here, okay? If I wanted to be there, I would be there.”

“But aren’t you, like-”

“Maia,” he interrupted me again with a low laugh, “I’m here.”

I tried to give him a smile, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom in the lower part of my stomach. I felt tsunami waves paving their way in the corners of my eyes, making me bite the insides of my cheek in an attempt to blink them away. God, why am I like this?

Ian just looked at me intently, studying my face as concern overflows his entire face. His jaw locked, eyes furrowed into a deep brown. He reached out to touch my fingers, but I flinched back.

I was starting to really feel like an anxious mess, like I’m just waiting for the next panic attack to erupt in the room. My heart jumped crazily, feeling like it was making its way to my throat. My skin started breaking in cold sweat, and suddenly I forgot how to breathe.

Ian reached out for me again, and this time I didn’t have enough time to flinch. He intertwined his slender fingers with mine, pulling me in a tight embrace and placing soothing circles on my back with his other hand. He’d always been there in each panic attack, always been there to pull me in comfort. But this time, it’s different. This time, he’s the one making me anxious, so quite honestly, even being in his presence is sending me to overdrive. I feel so dumb. Why am I so dumb?

“Maia,” he spoke quietly, “it’s okay, you’re okay, everything will be okay. When you’re ready, please talk to me.”

“I’m okay,” I said in between heavy breaths, breaking away from his touch, “I’m sorry, I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” he laced his fingers with mine again and pulled me back in, “I know you’re okay.” Then, he let me go and cupped my chin with his thumb and forefinger before placing a warm kiss on my forehead. “I love you, okay?”

“I love you too,” I croaked with a nod, my heart skipping a beat. I wish it would all stop. Maia, please get a hold of yourself and make it stop.

He rubbed my back again, and I silently thanked the sweater for covering up the goosebumps that are annoyingly waking all over my arms. I don’t know how he does this, but he’s had a special way of making nerves spark from the bottom of my spine all the way down to the very tip of my fingers.

He just stared at me for a moment, not saying a word anymore. Dimples pressed on his cheeks as he gave me another warm smile. He grabbed my hands and studied them, placing a soft kiss on each finger. I could feel my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach, and ten thousand butterflies danced their way into my system. Why is he like this?

“Maia, I mean it.” He said slowly, “I really do love you.”

“I know you do,” I replied, “you’ve always been there for me.”

“No,” he shook his head with a quiet snicker, “you’re not getting it.”

“What am I not getting?”

“I love you.”

The room spun, and I couldn’t think straight. What the hell did he just say? Did he mean it in the way that I’d want him to mean it, or did he mean it in the way that Maia-you’re-my-best-friend-and-I-love-you kind of way?

I just stared at him, clueless as to what to say. What the hell am I supposed to say? What if he doesn’t mean it in the way that I was hoping? What if I reciprocate something that he wasn’t even trying to imply? I’m going to look so, so, stupid.

Then, before I could react or over think it even more, he pulled me close to him again. Warm, soft lips collided with mine, making my breath hitch and eyes shut. He pressed a long kiss on my lips, smiling awkwardly at me after he’d pull back.

“Ian, wait, I-”

“I’m sorry,” he almost looked sad, “I’m sorry for doing that, it’s just-”

This time, it was my turn to interrupt him. I leaned close to him again and pressed my lips on his, his arms slowly snaking their way around my torso. Millions of thoughts ran through my head, making me feel like my brain is about to explode and my lungs are about to cave in. Worries started to leave my mind one by one, and electric sparks pinched my heart. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Then, as if I was an expert on ruining every beautiful moment, I remembered Cindy and I abruptly pulled away from our kiss. Right. It was only days ago when he’d come over just to tell me that they were a thing.

He looked at me with confusion, but I just can’t bring it to myself to allow this to happen when at the back of my mind, I know that he’s with someone else. I know that I’d been selfishly wishing for this to happen somehow, but knowing that this is happening in exchange of another person’s happiness is making me feel like an utter shit. I may be selfish, but I’m not a vile person.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Cindy.”

He looked me in the eye with a cocked brow before bursting out in laughter. I looked at him in pure confusion. What’s so funny about what I just said? Did he magically forget about her?

“Right,” he breathed heavily when he finally recovered from his laugh, “we’re just friends. I only said that to you because I was testing your reaction. I didn’t know how you felt about me, and I just- it’s really dumb, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Wait what?” I frowned, “you lied?”

“Not necessarily,” he tugged on a loose skin on his bottom lip, “I’m so in love with you, Maia. I have been for a really long time now, but I’ve never been sure if you felt the same way. The way you reacted when I’d told you about Cin gave me all the answers I have ever needed.”

“God, you’re so stupid.” I joked, playfully hitting his arm and earning a grin from him. “Of course I love you. Are you dumb? It’s not exactly hard to fall in love with you, you jerk.”

“So you’ve felt the same way too?” He was suddenly serious.

“Yes,” I said after a deep breath, “but your dumbass always talked about other girls, so I thought there wasn’t anything I should be fighting for. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried to distract myself from going crazy over you. I tried to force myself into thinking that I like other girls just so it wouldn’t be obvious to you,” he said with a smile, interlacing his fingers with mine again like they were jigsaw puzzles, “I guess I was just scared. I didn’t want to make things awkward if you didn’t feel the same. I didn’t want to lose you as my best friend. Do you actually realize how terrified I was when you weren’t speaking to me all those days? I thought I’d lost you. I was frantic.”

Of course. I’d felt the same, which is why I never told him either. I was scared of rejection, but I was even more petrified of losing him. We’ve known each other - have been there for each other - in such a long time, that a simple honesty felt like a life or death situation. It’s kind of crazy.

“Ian, there’s not a single force in the universe that could ever take me away from you.” I squeezed his hands between mine, leaning closer to leave a peck on his dimpled cheek.

He smiled at me, eyes twinkling with undiluted adoration. “You’re my heart and soul, Maia, you know that? You’ve always been my Christmas wish.”

My heart jumped again, but this time, it wasn’t out of anxiety overfilling my veins. This time, it was completely out of solid, refined, genuine happiness. He’s always been mine, too. Who would have thought that my Christmas wish all those years ago would come true?

“That’s crazy,” I said. “You’ve always been my wish too.”

“You’re something else, you know?” He teased, pushing me down on the couch, and hovering over me; I could feel his breath so close to mine, I felt dizzy. “I’m purely, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, Maia.”

I looked up, and saw his gaze on mine; mahogany orbs that held all of the planets in the solar system together. My heart felt like it was going crazy, and each second felt like hours - like the time had suddenly stopped: the busy streets outside became quiet, the cars zooming through New York weren’t moving, the carolers stopped singing, Earth paused from spinning. Everything stopped, but the rush of memories from all of the years that we have spent secretly falling for each other kept flashing beneath my skin. It’s still crazy to think that any of this is true, but it’s something that I will never take for granted, that’s for sure. I could never take him for granted.

He squeezed me into his arms, face pressed against my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling him press light kisses on my neck. And suddenly, everything started moving again: the busy streets became loud once again, carolers continued with their jingles, and Earth was spinning.

It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how much time I’ve stupidly wasted secretly gushing over every little thing that he does, when he’d been doing the same thing, and all he needed was a confirmation - some sort of reassurance that there was something we both should be fighting for. And there was. There’s us. There’s us, and that’s worth fighting for. Starting now, I’m pretty sure there would be more of movies, and popcorn, and hot chocolate every year. Now I get to love him freely; free of worry and anxiety that I’m loving someone who I shouldn’t love in that way, free of that annoying pang in my chest whenever he mentions another name, free of all the bad things in the world. I get to be purely, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with my best friend - my Christmas wish after all these years. He’s my wish come true, so maybe some wishes do come true after all.

#heres a little short story i scribbled #i write a lot during the holidays #christmas short #short story #christmas #hot chocolate

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