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joaquinwhorres · 4 years

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Best of Friends (Ch. 1) {Bucky x Reader}

SUMMARY ››››› When your best friend steals marries Bucky's best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.

PAIRING ››››› Bucky Barnes x Reader

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,916

WARNINGS ››››› There is no abuse in this story, no drug use, no depression, and as the only warnings worth putting up throughout the series, will be based around major plot points and surprise, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG.

A/N ››››› So I love and adore this story so much. I originally wrote it as an OC story and you can find those versions of the chapters on AO3 or FFN

The pounding on the door was seriously the last thing you needed right now.

The first thing you needed was a drink.

Unfortunately there was no way on God's green earth you were going to successfully parallel park that UHAUL, and the idea of going to a liquor store within walking distance of your new place seemed about as safe as letting in the person on the other side of the door. Something told you it wasn't the UPS guy causing the door to rattle against the frame.

You sent up a silent prayer that whoever it was would just go away and leave you to the excellent pity party you had been throwing herself.

The banging grew louder. Which was about right for today.

Since dying probably couldn't make you feel any worse than you did right now, you strode across the apartment and wrenched open the door. In the next second, you were pushed back into the apartment as someone hurled themselves at you.

"You're here!"

Thank goodness. Bernadette.

Your shoulders dropped as you wrapped your arms tightly around your best friend, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself to relax into the wave of relief. "Hi," you mumbled.

"Took you long enough to open the door," Bernadette complained, but you could hear the smile in her voice as she rocked you from side to side.

"I thought you were a crazy person."

Bernadette let out a wild laugh right in your ear, and you flinched but refused to let go.

"She is a crazy person," a male voice interrupted your moment, and you opened your eyes to find two hulking figures leaning against the wall behind Bernadette. The brunette smirked at you--or maybe Bernadette--as the blonde seemed preoccupied with scanning the hallway.

"Fuck you, Bucky," Bernadette lifted her middle finger for him to see without releasing you from the hug.

Bucky just laughed in response. "I suggested texting you that we were on your way, but she thought you'd enjoy the surprise." His eyes glimmered with amusement as your eyes rolled on their own accord.

"And you did, right?" Bernadette asked, pulling back enough to look at you eagerly.

"Maybe we should get out of the hallway," the blonde suggested, putting a stop to the bickering and saving you from having to pick sides.

"Yes!" Bernadette's attention shifted as she released you from the hug. "Let's see it!"

Your stomach constricted. "It's pretty rough."

"Of course it is. You just got here like thirty minutes ago," she dismissed, pushing past you. You sighed, opening the door and letting the men enter.

“Hi Y/N. Sorry we didn't text,” the blonde greeted, giving you a quick hug on his way in.

“It's fine, Steve,” you patted his back before dropping back down onto your feet.

“Your Honor,” Bucky grinned, entering the apartment.

“Your Bestness.” You smiled back, following him in and closing the door behind you to keep anyone else from seeing the depressing state of your new reality.

The three quickly fanned out to survey your apartment.

"This is a .....nice place," Bernadette smiled too brightly as she circled a pile of boxes in the kitchen to flip on the tap water. You watched as it sputtered a few times before picking up into a yellow-ish stream. She quickly flipped it off, turning to face you and see if you had seen. Making eye contact, she shrugged. "That clears up."

Bless her. She had to be the best friend to ever exist. Because if you were her, you totally would have hit her with an 'I told you so' by now.

Bernadette had warned you that an affordable single apartment was suspicious. That sometimes landlords blurred the neighborhood lines. That you may need to fix it up in order for it to even be considered a fixer-upper. Everything she warned you about was true.

You had thought you were going to Williamsburg. Instead you were in Bed-Stuy.

The picture on the listing must have been from like 10 years ago. Or maybe it was a neighbor's place. Or straight photoshopped. Because exposed brick was one thing but crumbling walls were another.

Add to that the three locks on the door and the fact that you were eight hours away from pretty much everyone you knew and loved, and you were feeling super great about this life decision.

"Does it?" you asked, making your way over to the living room area where about half of the floor seemed to have been ripped up.

"Sure," Bernadette nodded, moving out of the kitchen. "And if it doesn't, that's what Brita is for."

"You locked the truck, right?" Steve asked from where he stood by a window, staring out to the street below.

"Stop, the neighborhood's not that bad," Bernadette waved at Steve. She made a show of rolling her eyes as she moved past you to open the door to your bedroom."You did lock the truck, right?" she paused to whisper in your ear. You hummed a yes and turned to follow her.

The bedroom was less depressing than the rest of the apartment in the way Mount Everest was less dangerous than K2. It was still a fucking mountain.

"Interesting paint job," Bernadette remarked, staring at the wall which was half royal blue and half blood red. And not even artsy diagonal halves. No, of course not. Vertical halves. "I think I've seen something like this on Pinterest."

You groaned.

Bernadette tilted her head slightly, considering the room. "I think you probably have enough room to fit a twin and a dresser in here if you line them up against the wall."

"It's terrible," you whined. "The whole place is a complete shithole."

Bernadette gave you a sad smile. "It's better than I thought it would be," she brushed past you, walking back into the living room.

"There's a random hole in the kitchen ceiling!" You flung an arm out gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen.

"It could have been way worse. I was expecting it to be like a fourth of the size or for there to be a random dude you had to share it with. And anyway, Bucky's handy."

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, who was surveying the hole in the kitchen ceiling.

"You can't see into the apartment upstairs, so that's good," he commented and Steve snorted. Bernadette slipped off her shoe and chucked it at Bucky. He ducked, and it hit the wall of the kitchen, knocking loose part of the wall.

Whatever.

Bernadette winced. "Sorry," she apologized to you, meekly, shuffling across the apartment to retrieve the shoe from Bucky's outstretched hand. Taking the shoe, she whacked him in the arm with it. Bucky laughed again, making eye contact with you and shaking his head. You allowed a single exhale of amusement to escape you. But that was pretty much all the humor you had to spend on the situation.

"Do you have the keys to the truck?" Steve asked, and you nodded, patting your pockets before finding them and offering the small keychain to him. "Alright, Buck," he nodded with his head towards the door, and Bucky moved around Bernadette, giving her a wide berth as he went to follow Steve.

She started to follow when Steve stopped her.

"We got it. It's just the heavy stuff, right?" he asked you.

You nodded. "Yeah, I got most of the boxes up before you came."

"Are you saying we can't handle the heavy stuff? Did I secretly marry a misogynist?" Bernadette asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Steve shook his head, smiling. "We need someone to watch the stuff up here since the door's going to be open."

"Steve--" Bernadette started to protest again. You weren't sure if she was about to argue about her physical prowess or the apartment's safety, but regardless of the argument this eternal optimist wanted to make, you were fairly sure Steve was right.

"That'd be great, you can help me figure out where to put things as we unpack."

Bernie brightened at the prospect. "I'm glad you said that, because I already have some ideas." She turned back to face Bucky and Steve.

"Bucky, make sure he doesn't overexert himself. I need him fully functional tonight." You hoped that everyone mixed the grimace that crossed your face. Steve blushed slightly, and leaned down to whisper something in Bernie's ear. A grin spread across her face, and you were very thankful Steve was not one of those people who couldn't whisper.

"Ah newlyweds," Bucky made eye contact with you again, and you couldn't read the look on his face. He seemed almost like he was waiting for you to get the punchline of a joke. Maybe if your brain was operating at all correctly, you would have gotten it. Instead, you snorted before turning to Bernadette.

"Kitchen should be easiest and least in the way, right?"

"As long as we get it done in time for Bucky to take a look at the ceiling. And the bit of wall he knocked off."

You knew Bernadette well enough to see the red herring for what it was. You were not going to get distracted with holding her accountable for further destroying your shitty apartment.

"I'm not going to ask Bucky to fix my ceiling," you said, gathering the utensils out of the box and sticking them in a drawer by the stove.

"It's not a big deal--" Bernie dismissed, crossing paths with you to take the utensils and stick them in one of the mason jars you'd already unpacked.

You shook your head, "It's weird to ask one of your friends to fix my ceiling--"

"He's your friend too," Bernadette argued, taking the napkins out of your hands and disappearing with them.

"I've met him twice."

Bernadette came back and rustled through the open boxes, the sound of glass clinking and metal shifting against each other in her wake."Yes, but the second time you spent four days practically attached to the hip with him."

"Because he was the best man, and I was the maid of honor. It was our job to be attached at the hip and make sure everything went well."

"Was creating cute little nicknames part of the job as well?" Bernadette asked, pausing to pin you with a look.

"It's just an inside joke, and they're not that cute."

"Oh, they're pretty cute," Bernie smirked, bending back down to go through a box. "Where did you put your dish towels?"

You stood up from your box, coming over to join her in looking through the box. "I mean he calls you Bernie."

"Everyone calls me Bernie now," Bernadette dismissed. "Besides he has two nicknames for you."

"K is not a nickname. It's a taunt."

"You mean flirtatious teasing."

"I mean a jab at how I'm a shit texter."

Bernadette looked you dead in the eyes before shooting you what was probably supposed to be a sultry wink. " 'k."

You threw the dish towels you'd just dislodged at her and she laughed, picking them back up from where they fell in the box, and moving over to the open drawer. "Setting aside the two nicknames and their quality, he volunteered to come help you. I don't think he'd mind taking a look."

"Maybe," you conceded, knowing Bernadette wouldn't stop until she'd had some measure of success. It's what had to make her such a good law student. You had given in enough times on the promise of maybe that with a glint in her eye she dropped the subject.

It took Bucky and Steve a little over an hour to unload all of your things from the truck. It was another forty-five minutes of Bernadette reimagining the floor plan and forcing the four of you to continuously shuffle the furniture around before she was satisfied. When all was said and done, the apartment did look marginally better. At least some of the punched in outlets were hidden and the worst of the floor was covered.

"Well," Bernadette said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's it. You're officially a New Yorker."

"And you can officially stop sending me those sketchy Craigslit ads and Monster listings," you nodded, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the apartment.

"Neither of you are New Yorkers," Bucky shook his head, navigating the words around a hair-tie as he fixed his bun. Bernadette turned to glare at him, and he laughed, slipping the hair-tie around the bundle of hair.

"You married in. Doesn't count."

"Excuse you, I’m fluent in Subway Announcement and I’ve had a rat steal some of my food. If that doesn’t make me a New Yorker then I don’t know what does,” Bernadette huffed.

"You're a New Yorker," Steve soothed, putting an arm around her, and kissing the top of her head.

"Well," you sighed, hoping to stop another bantering fight from breaking out between Bucky and Bernadette. "I need pizza. And beer. And to get out of this apartment. Anyone else?"

"Oh," Bernadette's face fell as she glanced quickly up at Steve and then at you. "I wish we could, but Steve and I have reservations. I wasn't even thinking when we made them, and it's such a long wait list…" she trailed off, frowning sympathetically "I'm so sorry, babe."

"I'm free," Bucky offered. "And I actually know a decent place that's not too far from here. Since I'm a real New Yorker." The jab effectively stopped the sly grin that was growing on Bernadette's face.

"I--"

"What line did we take to get here?" Bucky asked, and Bernadette sulked. "It just slipped out."

"It's a tourist mistake," Bucky shook his head, tsking. "The green line."

"Well," Bernadette hmphed, "Steve and I are going to take the G train back home to get ready for dinner." She moved over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I will see you for lunch sometime soon because we can do that now that we live in the same city!"

You smiled, and reached up to hug Steve as he bent down to say goodbye.

"Bucky, please do not take my best friend to any godforsaken hole in the wall back alley pizza joint that's definitely just a front. I don't care how good their pizza is," Bernadette cut off his protest and he smiled, shaking his head.

"You're missing out on all of the best food."

"Ok," Bernadette dismissed, her disbelief dripping from each syllable. She took Steve by the hand, and you and Bucky walked them to the door. "Love you both." And with that, Bernadette and Steve were gone, leaving you alone in your apartment with Bucky.

He sighed, running a hand through the roots of his hair, despite the fact that it messed up his perfectly done man bun.

"You don't have to get pizza with me," you said, flashing a quick smile at him.

"Trying to get rid of me?" Bucky asked, looking down at you amused.

You shook your head, turning away from him quickly to try to locate your purse amongst the boxes. "No, I just--didn't want you to just come along to be nice. Or because you felt bad that Bernadette ditched so I'm all alone."

"How could I feel bad when you put it like that?"

"I didn't mean it like--" you started, stuttering and Bucky stopped you, coming up beside you with your purse hanging from his finger.

"I know. Just rest assured that I'm happy to put up with you for pizza."

You snatched the purse from him, slinging it across your body as Bucky laughed at you. "Ready?"

You nodded and the two of you headed out the door.

For all of the inconveniences and tragedies that had befallen you today, the walk to the pizza place was not one of them. In fact, second to seeing Bernadette at your door, it was probably the best part of the entire day. The walk was short, and the September evening air was pleasantly warm. With Bucky and his MMA fighter build next to you, navigating through the neighborhood didn't wrack your nerves as much as it could have. Although, it might not have been Bucky's muscles as much as his easy conversation that provided the comfort. He told you about his job, where to find the best bodegas, and one embarrassing story of Steve growing up. By the time you arrived at Tony's Pizza Spot, you had almost forgotten about how awful your day was.

"Hey Tony," Bucky called out, entering the place, and the owner looked up from where he was cutting a pizza. He jerked his head up in a nod. It was a small wood paneled shop with no tables or counters to sit at. Instead, there was one large display case with different meats and breads. You looked up at the simple menu, and Bucky stood closely next to you despite the fact that you had a feeling he didn't need to look at the offerings.

"Pepperoni and sausage ok?" Bucky asked, and you nodded, scanning the drink refrigerators for any sight of beer. "And for your milkshake?"

You raised your eyebrows at him. "I'm getting a milkshake?"

"You are," he nodded.

"Well," you looked up at the board. "Cherry vanilla."

"Excellent choice," Bucky smiled, approaching the counter as Tony tied off the pizza box with twine and then approached.

"What can I getcha?" he asked his eyes flicking between you and Bucky.

Bucky placed the order quickly, and Tony nodded, quickly tallying it up on the register. You reached into your purse for your wallet, but Bucky waved you off. "I got this."

"Pretty sure it's customary for the person who just subjected you to two hours of moving stuff to pay for the pizza. "

"Nah," Bucky shook his head, already handing the cash over to Tony."Think of it as a housewarming gift."

"Just moved to the neighborhood?" Tony asked, passing back Bucky his change, and you nodded. "Welcome."

"She's right down the street," Bucky said, dumping the change into the tip jar and stuffing the bills back into his pocket. "Figured I'd show her the best pizza spot in town."

"Damn right," Tony grinned, moving away to grab out an already prepped cheese pizza.. "How's Clint doin'? Didn't see him last week."

Bucky shook his head. "Broke his wrist last week, so Kate's placed him under house arrest to make sure he doesn't make it worse like last time. I'm guessing one of them will be in soon."

Tony had the same look of exasperation as Bucky as he ladeled sauce onto the pizza. "It's always something with him. Broken bones. Concussion. That boy's a walking accident."

You sorted through your memories trying to remember if you had met Clint at the wedding or either of the times you had been up to visit Bernadette at school. The name sounded familiar enough, but you couldn't picture the face. If Bernadette was here she could jog your memory. She'd remind you who Clint was give you a few facts about his life and a quick story so you felt like you knew him already. But she wasn't here. She was off being married, and you were in this tiny pizza shop with a boy you hardly knew who was doing his best to keep you company.

"You ok?" Bucky bumped shoulders with you. You hadn't realized their conversation ended and Tony had moved away to make the milkshakes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you shook your head trying to clear your thoughts.

Bucky shot you a very disbelieving look. "I can't tell if you're a bad liar or just too tired to try to be good at it."

Your shoulders dropped. Frankly, it was both. "It's nothing...it's stupid," you dismissed.

"Bummed you're stuck here with me instead of Bernie?" Bucky guessed. Very correctly.

"No," you sighed. "I just wish she was here too."

"Yeah, I get it," Bucky nodded, facing back forward to watch Tony making the milkshakes.

You felt bad. After all, Bucky had volunteered to give up his Monday evening to helping you move in. He probably had a whole list of things he'd rather do after work than lug a bookshelf up your stairs, but he'd done it, hadn't complained, and then treated you to pizza. And here you were wishing he was Bernadette.

"It was kind of rude of your best friend to steal my best friend," you commented with a half smile.

Bucky snorted. "Sorry, your honor, but your best friend stole my best friend."

"What?"

Bucky looked back down at you. "You weren't there. He was gone long before she was. Pretty much the second he met her it was over for him."

"What, and you were there the second they met?" you sassed back, placing your hands on your hips.

"Actually, yes," Bucky said, reaching forward to grab a milkshake Tony placed up on the counter. He peered into the top of the cup and passed it over to you. "Steve volunteered both of our services to move in Bernie's stuff."

"I didn't realize you were there," you said, accepting the dessert from Bucky. "She only ever mentioned Steve."

"Maybe he did steal her away fairly instantly then." Bucky shrugged. "Anyway, you realize there's only one solution to our problem, right?"

You gave him a flat look. "I'm not going to kill them."

"Holy shit, no," Bucky laughed. "That's where you went first?" Your face heated up, and you quickly busied yourself with a sip of the milkshake which was very good. Better than alcohol good. "And?" Bucky asked.

"It's delicious," you said, returning for another sip before looking back at him. "But what's the solution?"

"We'll be best friends."

"You want to be my best friend?" you asked, with a small smile.

"More like I want you to be my best friend," Bucky said. "Steve's been doing a shit job recently, and you moved all the way from North Carolina to be with Bernie--I like that kind of effort."

You laughed, and Bucky grinned back, taking his milkshake from off the counter.

"Alright," you agreed, feeling a little bit lighter. "I'm not replacing Bernadette though. You'll just have to be the substitute for when she's not up to par."

"I can work with that," Bucky nodded. "And as my first act as your substitute best friend is to demand to throw you a housewarming party. Don't make plans for next Saturday."

The smile slid off of your face. "No, thank you. I don't want anyone walking into my trap house apartment."

"Your apartment is not that bad."

"Bucky. It's terrible."

"Your Honor, Steve and I shared a glorified closet for our entire sophomore year of college. We couldn't both stand in our kitchen." Bucky leveled you a glance. "And our friends still came over to visit us."

You mulled it over, stirring your milkshake with the straw. It wasn't a terrible idea. It was bad,, uncomfortable, ill-thought out, and overall not good, but it wasn't terrible. You nodded. "Alright, Your Bestness. Saturday."

"Excellent," Bucky grinned, grabbing the box Tony slid across the counter. "We'll discuss details over pizza."

Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #mcu fic #modern!au #marvel fic #marvel imagine #best of friends #bucky fic

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

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Don’t Believe It

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Warnings: Just fluff and swearing (we’re talking about Chris, here)

Author’s Note: As a whole I steer clear of fics based on real life people. For me, it just feels presumptive to create a fiction about a real person I know so little about (even if it seems like we may know, we really don’t). But the other day I went down a bit of a rabbit hole, reading several and it felt like there were many commonalities. One I saw repeated often was the Reader character being in a position of need or insecurity. Now, I know many of us deal with feelings of helplessness or insecurity everyday. But this is fiction! If the Reader insert is supposed to be you, then make the Reader the best version of you that can be imagined. It got me thinking. So, I’m going to offer up what my ideal fic would be to one of the common themes. This will likely be my first and only RL Fic.

You sat on the sofa, feet tucked under you and Dodger’s tail steadily thwacking your thigh. Chris stretched out with his feet on the coffee table as he absently scratched the dog’s ears. The news played on the television and he was completely engrossed. “I’ve got to find a way to get them to talk about this. The GOP just won’t touch it. Mark completely reworked the questions, and still nothing.”

“There’s probably no way they could put a good spin on it in the time you allow. This is about character assignation, not policy.” You turned, stretching out your legs beside Dodger so your feet nudged Chris’ leg.

You phone went off for the eighth time in the last five minutes. Even though it was on silent, the faint buzz was enough to draw his attention. “You’re right. Are you going to get that or what?”

Flipping it over you saw the string of text messages from your sister. “It’s Katie. I don’t want to talk to her right now.”

Chris frowned, turning away from the tv and pulling your feet into his lap. “Something happen?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Yes. I guess. She and I just don’t agree on who should run my life.”

“What the fuck?” He laughed.

“She thinks my travel writing is a risky career, even though I’ve been making a living at it for years. She thinks having my stuff in storage and living minimal in an apartment is bad planning, even though I pretty much live out of a suitcase. And of course, she thinks dating you will destroy my self image.” You huffed rolling your eyes.

“Excuse me?” Chris barked. Dodger scurried off the sofa to his bed. “Sorry Bubba,” he mumbled but turned back to you. “How am I going to ruin your self image? I adore you. I think your brilliant and funny and beautiful.”

“Ah,” You scooted a little closer so your legs were fully draped over his. “But according to Katie, when I’m confronted by all the gorgeous Hollywood starlets, my self-esteem will whither and die.”

He laughed, head thrown back. “Does she know you? You have told her about who you’ve met, or hanging out at Hemmy’s place and everyone there. For fuck’s sake we met up with Tessa in New York she was going on and on about your curves. It’s not everyone is attracted to a size two – god knows I think you’re hot as hell. I’d have my hands on that ass all day if you’d let me.”

You giggled, burying your face into the back of the sofa. Damn it, only he made you giggle like that.

“Really, though.” He stroked your leg, tilting his head to look at your face. “You don’t want to be fighting with your sister. You should answer her. Just hash it out and get it over with.” His big hand cupped your cheek. “She’ll come around.”

You groaned. “I should, huh?”

“There’s twenty minutes until Mom shows up with ravioli. Get it over with. Call her.”

“Do you want me to go in the other room so you can watch tv?” He just shook his head and took a swig of beer. So you dialed.

“About time.” You sister sounded exasperated. “Where are you?”

“Hi Katie. I’m great, and how are you.”

“Always the smart-ass.” You sister huffed. “Hi, Sweetie. Sorry. Now, did you look at the picture I texted you? Look at the woman he was seen leaving that restaurant with.”

Biting back your first retort, you pulled the phone away from your ear and stood up as you opened the text message image. A paparazzi photo taken from far off showed Chris close to a tall, very thin, very attractive blond. From the angle the photo was taken, it looked like he had his hand on the small of her back. You knew better.

Chris gave you a quizzical look as you stepped into the kitchen. You just shook your head and rolled your eyes. Before turning back to the conversation. “Katie, looks are deceiving.”

“He’s stepping out on you.”

“He is not.”

“There’s a photo! I’m only looking out for you. You should see what people are saying. Have you even bothered to look at anything I’ve forwarded?”

“No, I haven’t and I don’t intend to.”

She began to talk again, a million miles an hour. Going on about the comments she’d read about you when a picture leaked of him holding the car door for you last week, and how they bashed you. She barely took a breath as she explained how she was just saving you from being humiliated and getting your heart broken because obviously Chris was a womanizer going after all those hot girls.

“Katie!” You practically screamed. She stopped. You took a deep breath. “I’m going to say this calmly, because I know you love me, and in your own way, you just want the best for me. But I need you to listen, to understand, and to believe me. I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t read what people say about me, or Chris, online. . . Because I don’t care. Really. I. Don’t. Care. I know who I am. I’m comfortable with who I am. The only people’s opinions that matter to me, are the people who already love me.”

You paused for a second to make sure your sister was really listening. “And I know who Chris is. I don’t need the internet’s opinion of him. We talk all the time, honestly and about the things that really matter. I trust him. He’s a good man. Period. And he wants me, not some stylize ideal or photoshops image. Me. Do you get it? He’s real, not the image or characters.”

“But that photo…” Katie said in a small voice.

“Was taken in New York two weeks ago when we – he and I – went to dinner. He held the door open for that woman. We never even talked to her. Do you get it? We have no idea who she is, but because of a funky camera angle and conjecture and rumor, you became convinced Chris was awful. Don’t buy into it. If someone snapped a picture of you without your knowledge while you were out shopping or at work, Bob might think you were running around on him, too. Katie, people make their living coming up with this shit. I refuse to let ruin a good thing.”

She was quiet.

“I love you.” You sighed. “And I know you worry about me, but with this, please, please, just trust me. I’m happy. Chris is good to me. We’re good together. I don’t want to fight with you every time some stupid picture starts trending.”

“Okay.” Katie relented, sounding defeated. “Alright…”

“I’m going to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You set your phone down and rubbed your shoulder, tipping your head. A noise behind you drew your attention and you turned around. Chris’ mom just set the large pan on the counter and swept you up in a giant hug. You hugged her back, shooting a confused look over her shoulder at Chris.

His smile lit his whole face. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but that was the best call ever.”

#Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evan fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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kasienda · 4 years

Text

A Miraculous Reveal - Instagram

I forgot to post this here! Inspired by a prompt from @ladyofthenoodle. She also figured out how this one should end because she’s genius like that. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

Marinette stared unhappily at the photo on her computer screen. Part of her thought she should be overjoyed at the revelation before her, but in the moment, she only felt frustrated. What was that stupid cat thinking?! Could he be any more obvious? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he did it on purpose.

“Marinette?” Tikki’s familiar voice called. “What’s wrong?”

The dark-haired girl sighed, and then gestured halfheartedly to the picture on her instagram feed. “Do you think I should be more mad at Adrien for uploading this picture? Or at Plagg for being difficult in the first place?” Tikki looked at the picture of Adrien sitting at his desk leaning forward to the camera with light from tall panes of glass windows lighting up his hair in a golden glow. As someone who collected all things Adrien, the picture honestly wasn’t the best Marinette had ever seen. His face looked washed out, and he had bags under his eyes. He just looked tired, and she couldn’t help but worry about him. Especially now that she understood that his plate of responsibilities was larger than she had ever imagined. The image was further spoiled by a random plain white sock floating upright in the air behind him. It was so stiff it could have been hanging from a clothesline.

Marinette observed Tikki carefully as the kwami considered the picture, watching for any reaction. At times, her kwami was amazingly expressive, but Marinette had come to learn the embodiment of creation could pull off quite the poker face when the need arose.

“I don’t see Plagg,” the red sprite finally concluded, her eyes furrowed together in seeming confusion.

“Really?!” Marinette scoffed. “That’s what you’re going with? I already know that kwamis don’t show up on camera, Tikki. What else could that be?”

Ao3 Link Ff.net

“Photoshop?” TIkki suggested lightly.

Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Maybe Adrien threw the sock backwards when he took the picture,” her kwami said.

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, not remotely convinced by Tikki’s attempts to dissuade her. “It’d be blurry, Tikki.”

“Not if it was at the height of its arc.”

“It wouldn’t be at this angle,” Marinette argued, pointing at the artifact. She didn’t like physics, but she couldn’t help pick up on some things being a superhero fighting akumas over the rooftops of Paris. “This is like it’s hanging upright. If it was flying through the air it would be bent and floppy.”

Tikki sighed, her mouth opening in search of another argument, but no words left her lips.

“You know who else might know that kwamis can’t be photographed?” Marinette asked rhetorically, and then answered the question herself. “Papillion.”

“Yeah, Adrien needs to delete that photo,” Tikki agreed.

Marinette laughed at Tikki’s sudden change in tune. “Oh, you think so?”

Tikki didn’t bother to respond to the “I told you so,” and Marinette found herself looking at the picture. His eyes were actually green. After her stint as Lady Noire, Marinette hadn’t been certain that her partner’s eyes were that vibrant shade of fresh spring grass. But they were, and for whatever reason that little detail made her feel like she knew him.

And of course, she did know him. He was Adrien. But now… She couldn’t help the giddy little smile that burst over her face as the reality of Chat Noir’s identity really sunk in, and she loved him even more.

“I’m glad that you’re happy,” Tikki observed softly. “That it’s him.”

Marinette twirled around in her chair towards her kwami. “Yeah, me too,” she admitted with a blush. “But goodness, he makes things so difficult sometimes! Why doesn’t he think things through?!”

“Let’s go yell at him!” Tikki encouraged, executing an excited dance in the air.

Marinette laughed. “Alright, then! Tikki, Spots On!”

…

Adrien lay back on his bed, one arm behind his neck supporting his head, and the other hand holding his phone up in front of his face, watching the likes and comments come in from his latest Instagram post. He didn’t really know why he always watched the reactions come in live. The constant notifications and attention from people he had never met had lost its joy and appeal ages ago, and yet, he still couldn’t help but check the recent post every few seconds anyway.

And this post was special. He had an ulterior motive.

“Do you think she’ll figure it out, Plagg?” Adrien asked, daydreaming of a certain Ladybug darting through his window.

“I’d say that’s a pretty good bet!” the mischievous cat like kwami said, snapping the t before phasing out of sight.

Adrien dropped the phone and looked up. “What makes you say…”

Ladybug stood in his window frame. Her blue eyes narrowed as they landed on him, and he wanted to hide from her obvious displeasure.

“...that?” he trailed off. He leapt from his prone position on the bed, and slid forward, allowing his legs to hang over the mattress as he sat smiling at his mostly unexpected guest.

“Hi, Ladybug! What brings you here?” Adrien greeted brightly as if it was totally and completely normal to have a superhero standing in his open window. Which, if he counted himself, it kinda was…?

Her glare turned frostier, even as she jumped gracefully from the window sill to the marble floor. “Don’t play dumb, Chaton. It doesn’t suit you. Delete it now!”

“Delete what?” Despite her command, he figured it was in the interest of his survival to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about.

“The photo that you just posted to Instagram!” she growled.

He grinned. Ladybug had arrived within thirty minutes of him posting the photo. “So, you follow my Instagram?”

To his shock, pink flushed across her face. “That’s s-so not the point!” she spluttered.

His grin widened. “I always told you, you’d find my unmasked face irresistible.”

Her eyes hardened. “You need to delete that photo now, Adrien!” she barked harshly. “If I could figure it out, Papillion and Mayura can too!”

His grin evaporated in an instant. Shit! He hadn’t thought about that. He darted back to his phone that lay abandoned on his bed, rapidly unlocked it, and then swiped and tapped his way through the app. “It’s done,” he reported, all his bravado gone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

His partner’s form slumped in relief and she let out a frustrated sigh. Her resigned exasperation with just that dash of disappointment cut deeper than anything she had actually said. He had been needlessly reckless and for selfish reasons. It seemed so obvious now.

“It’s probably not gone, though,” he admitted softly. “I have crazy fans that screen cap everything. And repost stuff. I can’t control any of that.”

“It was only up for like half an hour. I can’t imagine it got too far or that most people will understand its significance. And it’s not the most flattering photo of you honestly, so hopefully less people felt the need to save it.” She flicked a piece of lint off her shoulder, not making eye contact. “How many likes did it have?”

“Around five thousand,” he reported.

“Five thousand?” she repeated in disbelief, her bright blue eyes as wide as the Seine. “I don’t think I could get that many likes in a year! God damn celebrities!”

“Ladybug could,” he told her confidently. “If she had an Instagram.”

“I’m not getting an Instagram as Ladybug!” she countered hotly.

“Why not?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “I imagine you could post some beautiful pictures of the city.”

“Because of stuff like floating socks!” she snapped back. She started pacing in front of his window in agitation. “I might not catch something in the background, and then I would give away my whole identity! I’m not willing to put my friends and family in danger for likes!” she lashed out at him.

His shoulders wilted. She was right. His father had a lot of resources and could probably protect himself even from a supervillain. Maybe Kagami too. But what about Nino, Alya, and Marinette?

“I-it wasn’t for likes,” he whispered, but the objection felt weak even to his own ears. He had only wanted one person to see it. Her. He just wanted her in his life. His actual life. Was that so bad? But his plan had worked better than he thought possible. She had figured out his identity. And that meant…

Knots formed in Adrien’s stomach as the implications sunk in. “You’re right. I didn’t think. Are-are you going to take my miraculous, now?” He wasn’t brave enough to look at her face. He hadn’t thought about the consequences at all. He hadn’t thought about the fact that other people, including his enemies, might recognize the properties of a kwami. Didn’t think about the fact that he didn’t know how to survive without the freedom of Chat Noir. No, he had only been thinking that Ladybug would understand the significance of the photo and if she “accidentally” figured out his identity, then she couldn’t be mad at him for telling her. He had only wanted her to see him and understand him. She was his partner. His other half.

He risked a glance up at her continued silence. She looked like she had been hit by a bus at the question. Her eyes were blown wide and her mouth hung open, and she still didn’t say anything.

“That’s the consequence, right?” he prompted when she didn’t respond. “Someone figures out my identity, I have to give up my miraculous?” He shrugged, trying to hold up a strong front. “That’s what Plagg said a few weeks back anyway.”

He slipped off the ring and held it out to her, his eyes burning with threatened tears.

Her gloved hands reached out, and he clamped his teeth down on the sob that wanted to tear out of his throat. Her gloved hands, which felt strange touching his bare skin, carefully closed his fingers around the cold metal circle and pushed it back towards him. He looked up at her in surprise. Her eyes glistened with her own unshed tears.

“Maybe I should take it. That was Master Fu’s rule, but Chaton…” she whispered, and then rapidly shook her head with her teeth pressed down into her lower lip. “I can’t do this without a partner.”

“You could find a new partner. One who is more worthy of your trust.”

She scoffed. “I can’t just find another partner! They don’t fall from the sky. And yes! I’m not going to lie! You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes! With the flirting and your stupid puns while I’m trying to figure out how to use a lucky charm! When you wouldn’t take no for an answer after asking me out for like the third time. When you fell for fake Ladybug just because you wanted me to love you even though it was so obvious she wasn’t real. And oh my god, you accepted Sass when you were already Chat Noir! Ugh!”

His shoulders slumped, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. When she laid it all out like that… maybe she needed to find a new partner. Someone who understood the responsibilities his power brought him, and would respect her boundaries, hopefully better than he had.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, and her red gloved hands gently took his own, and squeezed reassurance. She tilted her head down to catch his fallen gaze. And she smiled softly at him.

“But Chaton, you’re also the person who can figure out my crazy plans with almost no explanation, the person who has taken hit after hit for me. I’ve literally watched you die in my arms, more times than I prefer to think about. I have the nightmares to prove it. You talk me up and encourage me when it feels impossible to succeed.”

She gripped his hands harder. “Hell! I would have quit being Ladybug on the first day, if it wasn't for you. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I need you. No one else can even come close to replacing you. Not even if I trained them to fight because you do more than watch my back. You just know how to lift me up when my world has fallen apart.”

Hot tears slipped past his defenses as her words settled into his being, planting soft seeds of warmth.

“Please don’t cry,” she begged.

He wiped his tears away furiously. “Thank you, LB. it feels really good to hear you say all that. Sometimes, I’m not sure where I stand with you. Some days I feel like your best friend, and other days, that annoying weird kid you wish you never had met.”

“Chaton,” she crooned. “I care about you so much. I promise I have never once wished that I hadn’t met you. You have become a huge part of my life!”

“You too, LB! You’re the best thing in mine.”

She blushed and fidgeted. It was actually weird to see her as anything other than confident and focused. Her nervousness relaxed him, made him remember she was just a teenager like him.

“I love you,” he blurted into the growing silence. “You make me feel like I have value and a purpose. Like I’ve done something good, and that I’ve done it well. I don’t feel like that very often. And I know I’ve said it before, and I’m not expecting anything, but I just… I wanted to say it just once… as myself.”

“You love me,” she repeated, her form rigid as she stared at him with wide eyes as if she couldn’t believe it.

He laughed. “Yes! Why do you sound so surprised? I’ve only told you three times before!”

“But that was Chat Noir. Adrien told his friends he was in love with someone but he didn’t give a name. I’m the person Adrien is in love with.”

He placed a hand absently to his neck. “It’s not like I could tell my friends your name. It’d be dismissed as a celebrity crush.”

Then her comment registered and his green eyes shot up to her masked ones. “Wait! How do you know that I told my friends that?”

She glanced toward the window, and took a step back. “Uh… well, you see…” she stuttered. And that was weird. He’d never seen Ladybug so nervous, and yet, her body language tickled his memory with its familiarity.

“Do I… do I know you in my civilian life?”

Ladybug bolted to her feet. “Well, this has been fun,” she said rapidly, a nervous smile stretching across her face. “I need to get going now. Remember to be more careful with your social media accounts. See you at patrol tomorrow, Chaton!”

He darted in front of her before she could launch her yo-yo out his window, his mind awhirl. He had only told three people that he was in love with someone. Nino, Marinette, and Kagami.

None of them seemed likely to share that information with anyone else.

And Ladybug definitely wasn’t Nino.

He had seen Ladybug with both Marinette and Kagami. But… his lady was clever. She might have tricked him. And of those two, only one of them made sense.

“Marinette?”

Her face fell into her hands. “Tikki’s going to kill me.”

Warmth burst in his chest like a firework going off. Adrien felt like he was floating above the ground. He was just that elated. He knew Ladybug’s identity. And the girl behind the mask? She was amazing! And she was already his friend.

He stepped forward and seized her in a hug. “It’s you!” he laughed, giddiness spilling from every fiber of his being.

She didn’t reciprocate. Instead, she remained frozen in his embrace - awkwardly patting his shoulder. He immediately let her go and backed away with an arm to the back of his neck as his nerves caught up with him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, heat blooming in his face. “I am so excited to know that you are Marinette, I… I got carried away.”

“H-how can you be s-sure that I’m Marinette?” she asked, pink spreading from her mask to her ears.

He smiled fondly at the suddenly very familiar stutter. “You know I can see the resemblance now, right? It’s really obvious. Plus, who else could live up to Ladybug, but Marinette?”

She fidgeted and turned away from his gaze. “Y-you can’t tell anyone.”

He rolled his eyes and took another step towards her. “I know how the superhero schtick goes.”

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Really? Have you already forgotten why I came to visit you today?” And here she was all Ladybug righteous fury.

He blushed. “I only did that because I wanted you to know who I was. No one else. And trust me to guard your secret better than my own. I know you have a family to protect.”

“You say that like you don’t,” she observed with a frown.

He shrugged. “I mean, I guess I have my father. But I hardly ever see him. So does it count?”

Adrien immediately regretted saying that as an awkward silence descended upon them. A silence that he had no clue how to fill.

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she finally whispered, and then she took a step forward and her spotted arms encircled around him.

“What for?” he asked in surprise. He stood frozen uncertain and amazed at this turn of events, before he let his arms wrap around her petite form and his chin rest on her shoulder.

“I just… I don’t think I ever understood why having a connection with me as Ladybug was so important to you,” she whispered in his ear. “I didn’t realize that it would be just as difficult to make friends in your civilian form as it would be as Chat Noir.”

He pulled back a little, but just enough to take her hand and bring it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles as he always did. But unlike usual, she didn’t pull away or rebuff him. In fact, her cheeks blazed red the way Marinette’s often did in Adrien’s presence.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“F-fine,” she stammered, snatching her hand out of his hold like she had been burned.

“You just... usually pull away sooner. And your face is all red,” he pointed out, gesturing to her cheeks with his free hand.

She punched him in the shoulder. And it hurt more than he was willing to admit. He wasn’t transformed at the moment, but he tried to play it off.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it!” she admonished him.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“You’re making fun of me,” she whined.

“I swear that I’m not.”

“Then why do you keep teasing me about being embarrassed?” she shot back.

“I… you’re embarrassed?” he asked. “What on earth would you have to be embarrassed about? You’re amazing!”

“You know who I am! You can remember every time I’ve put my foot in my mouth or embarrassed myself horribly in front of you with every attempted confession,” she spoke rapidly, her hands waving around wildly. And he found himself smiling softly. This behavior was all Marinette. And he loved it. Then her words registered. His eyes widened, and time froze and he felt as alert as he did facing an akuma. He could see her hands fidgeting nervously, her heaving chest as she struggled to replace the air she had just used, the faint pink still staining her cheeks, and her blue eyes darting away in self-consciousness.

“Confession?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but he failed.

Her eyes widened before her face fell into her hands again, as she mumbled incoherently into her palms. And god, this blending of Marinette and Ladybug right in front of him was making him dizzy. He stepped forwards again and gently pulled her hands from her face, revealing swirling orbs of blue that peeked out from under her dark eyelashes.

“I’m the boy? Me?” He asked. Her blush darkened, but she gave a slight nod. He laughed in absolute delight. “I’m the boy,” he repeated, but this time it was a revelation and not a question. If he felt like he was floating before, he was flying now. And he was never going to come back down to earth again.

“Me. Adrien. I’m the boy you love,” he rambled, a grin as wide as the Seine stretched across his face. “You rejected Chat Noir-me for Adrien-me.” He was never going to stop smiling.

“Adrien,” she whined, over enunciating all three syllables of his name. “Stop looking so pleased with yourself!”

He shook his head. “But you love me. Ladybug loves me.”

She blushed yet again, and offered him a gentle smile. “Yeah… I guess she does.”

He caressed her cheek and leaned into her space. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded.

His right hand cupped her while his left slipped his fingers between hers. His lips pressed into hers. Just a touch, lingered there for a moment relishing in the gentle contact. She felt soft, warm, and tasted sweet like fruit-flavored candy.

It wasn’t his first kiss.

But it was the first kiss he could remember.

He pulled away to see her face still lost in the contact. Her eyes were closed with her head angled up, and she had the smallest smile. Warmth bloomed in his chest at her expression.

Posting that picture had been the best idea he had ever had.

Unless of course, Papillion figured him out. That would lead him straight to Marinette whether or not the villain had cause to suspect she was Ladybug.

His stomach turned to ice.

No… he wouldn’t let that happen. He would protect her. He was Chat Noir, and Chat Noir always protected his partner. He always did whatever needed to be done, whether he had to sacrifice himself or just simply created a distraction.

His eyebrows shot into his forehead. That was exactly what he needed to do!

“I have an idea!” he exclaimed.

...

Ladybug refused to open her eyes. She wouldn’t recover if she opened them only to discover that the last two minutes had only been a dream.

This wasn’t her first kiss, and it wasn’t even her first kiss with Adrien. But the first one had been in the middle of a battle with no time to savor the moment. This is the kiss she would choose to cherish in her memory.

He pulled back, and she tried not to chase him, but she wasn’t ready for him to go.

“I have an idea!”

Her eyes finally blinked open at the excitement in his voice. “An idea?” she asked. “F-for what?” Why was she still stuttering?!

His meadow-green eyes were vibrant, and he still held her hand. The contact was grounding her even if the gloves of her suit remained between them. “To solve my floating sock problem. We need a distraction. Can you detransform?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Please?” he begged and somehow his eyes got wider and softer, and his lower lip trembled in an over-exaggerated pout. She was going to have to work on her resistance to that look. “We could do this as Ladybug and Adrien. It might even work better at solving the sock identity vulnerability, but it would do that by putting your identity more at risk if we show any public affection in our civilian identities. It’s better to do this as Adrien and Marinette.”

“Spots off,” she whispered. Chat Noir was the person she trusted most in the world.

The familiar buzz tingled down her form, and Adrien was staring at her like he’d never seen her before all over again.

Her face and neck blazed in sudden embarrassment. “What?” she asked, looking down at her fingers.

“I just… it really is you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I mean, I knew that, but… but now, it’s real.”

Tikki took that moment to flutter up between them. “Marinette, what are you…?”

Marinette waved her off. “Not now, Tikki! It’s too late. I’m sorry!” She turned back to Adrien. “What did you have in mind?”

He grinned so brightly. Seriously, she was going to get sunburned from his smiles, and reached a hand out to her. “Come here,” he directed as he pulled her into his arms. It was terrifying how good it felt to be held in his arms. She felt hot and cold, vulnerable and safe, nervous and loved. And she felt it all at once. It was quite the heady experience.

Then he touched their foreheads together and she got lost in his eyes, which beamed with absolute adoration all directed at her. Heat pooled into her cheeks at the intimacy of their unwavering eye contact.

She chided herself. They had been in far more intimate and compromising positions in their suits. But right now, they were without their masks. And she felt so much more vulnerable.

But also giddy with joy.

After only seconds had passed, Adrien pulled out his phone, and snapped a few pictures of them, but his eyes never left her face until after he finished. Only then did he glance down at the screen to view their results.

“What do you think?” He asked, swiping through the burst of shots as he turned the screen to show her.

Looking at the pictures, Marinette couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. The only thing more powerful than seeing Adrien’s love sick eyes focused intently and unerringly on hers was seeing her own expression mirroring his own. She brushed his hand away and went through the pictures herself more slowly, tears threatening to drop from the corner of her eyes when she landed on her favorite. In the image, Adrien was smiling like a child tasting sugar for the first time in its life, while Marinette looked dazed like the world had just been turned upside down, which it had, but in the best possible way.

She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “This one,” she said, handing the device back to him.

“I like this one too,” he agreed as his fingers flew across the small touch screen, setting up a new Instagram post. He turned the final result towards her, so she could read the caption.

Spending the afternoon with my new girlfriend.

“What do you say? Are you ready to become social-media-official with me?” he asked with a smirk. But his free hand was rubbing the back of his neck.

The nervous tick threw her, and she realized he wasn’t just creating a distraction. He was also asking her out, and he was nervous. Somehow that calmed her.

She bit her lip and nodded again. And suddenly he was kissing her again, and she hoped that she never got used to the sensation. It was perfect. Even though she disapproved of his recklessness, part of her was really glad that he had posted that picture if it meant she could have a dozen more moments like this.

When he pulled away, he buried his head into his phone once again. She frowned at how quickly he was distracted, and looked over his arm to see what he was adding to his post.

When I kiss her, I feel so dizzy I see spots.

“Adrien!” she scolded, slapping his arm. Was he seriously going to risk her identity for a stupid pun! He laughed, and immediately deleted the sentence. “Okay! Okay! How about… the princess of my heart?”

“Totally over the top cheesy!” she screeched, trying harder to wrestle away his phone.

Before she succeeded, he hit the “share” button. Then, he immediately surrendered the device to her, and pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder as they stood cheek to cheek, looking at his phone, which was already lighting up and buzzing with dozens of notifications. Marinette watched in abject fascination. This was almost unfair.

Within two minutes, Marinette’s cell had started ringing, and over the next five minutes, Alya had called fourteen times and left four voicemails. Exasperated, Marinette texted her back.

I’m trying to make out with my boyfriend. Quit interrupting!

That ought to get her to shut up.

Sure enough, Alya sent her a squealing emoji in response and then there was silence.

Within ten minutes, the new photo had exceeded the five thousand likes of the deleted picture. Congratulatory and heartbroken comments poured in almost faster than Adrien or Marinette could read.

Another five minutes passed, and the newly formed couple jumped apart at the sudden pounding on Adrien’s bedroom door.

“Adrien, would you please open this door right now and explain how Ms. Dupain-Cheng came to be in your room without going through the front door,” Nathalie called from the other side of the wooden barrier.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Marinette whispered, stepping away from her new boyfriend - she had an actual boyfriend - and towards the window.

Adrien immediately grabbed her hand. “Actually, it might be better if you stayed?” he said nervously. “I may not have thought this entirely through either… as this photo is obviously in my room. It’s easier to explain sneaking you in here than is explaining where you disappeared to.”

“Adrien!” She hissed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully love me forever?” He suggested with an exaggerated grin.

“Adrien!” Nathalie yelled through the door.

Marinette laughed. “You might want to open the door before your father's assistant gets akumatized.”

“You’ll stay?” he whispered, his trembling eyes the only sign that he was scared to face the dragon on the other side of his bedroom door alone.

She nodded, and threaded her hand through his. “You and me against the world, right?”

“The world plus Nathalie. She’s scarier than the rest of the world,” he said cheekily even as he unlocked and opened the door.

God, Marinette was completely in love with this dork. And she was going to have to put up with him, his ill-thought-out-over-th-top schemes to impress her, and his stupid smug smirk for who knew how long.

Maybe forever.

But then again, maybe none of those things were so bad.

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ladrien #identity reveal #fluff #adrien doesn't think things through #Ladybug yells at him #MLB Instagram #My Own Content #miraculous reveal #social media official #love confessions

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

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Imagine if fem!reader put smth sexy on for Arthur before he gets home from work as a surprise, she's fidgeting on the bed trying to find a good pose when the door opens and it's John saying like "hey Arthur here's the thing I borrow-" and they kinda just stare at each other in shock before John leaves with a "you know what I'll just come back some other time". Does he run into Arthur on his way out? Maybe. Do reader and Arthur still get it on? Hell yeah

Okay, I have something to admit to y’all. Growing up Mormon (full on not Mormon anymore, thank God!), I did not have any experience for most of my life when it comes to sex stuff, so my kinkiness level is like a 1 out of 100 (yes, feel free to judge). Anyways, this one turned out more funny than anything else, so have a good laugh, even if it’s at my expense!

Read my works on AO3

Thank God for two-day delivery. You ordered this thing two days ago and have been antsy to try it on for Arthur ever since. Your bedroom life isn’t stale and you two fuck at least three times a week, but sometimes you just need something to spice it up.

You open the package, which contains another box, a periwinkle blue with the curvy logo of the company. You open that box and there’s a paper promising customer satisfaction, full refunds for a month, blah blah blah. You push it aside and lift up the tissue paper to reveal the sensual garment you’d ordered.

Pulling it up, you feel worried. It looks like it might be too small for you. After ripping open the clear package, you hold the piece up. Then you look at the clock. Arthur will be getting off of work and he’ll be home in about half an hour. That gives you just the right time to try this thing on and discard it if it doesn’t look good.

You strip out of your clothes and then inspect the piece again. Biting your lip, you slip it on over your legs and begin pulling it up over your body. The piece, which looks like a corset, stretches surprisingly well and slides over your skin. You pull it up to the proper length, to where it just barely covers your nipples, and then look down to see where it stops at your legs. There is no crotch to it, so you’re a little worried it might look like you’re wearing a kid’s dress. Luckily, it stops right at the line of your buttcheeks.

You step in front of the mirror, afraid it might look completely ridiculous. It looked hot as hell online, but of course that was on a model. You’re just an average person, not exactly model material and this thing can’t be photoshopped on your body. You look at your reflection and are pleased to see that it actually extenuates your figure while still enunciating your curves.

You look at the clock. Ten minutes to go. Have you really spent that much time fidgeting with this thing? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Now you have to find a sexy pose, you want it to be a surprise for Arthur. You sit on the bed, wondering if you should do a pinup pose. You try one, but you feel completely ridiculous. You try a different one with the same affect.

You go through a multitude of poses, each feeling more silly or more uncomfortable than the last. Honestly, the amount of back arching you’ve done is starting to hurt. Just now, you hear the door downstairs open. Arthur’s home. Shit, you still haven’t found a pose. As soon as he takes off his shoes, he’ll be coming up here to change out of his work clothes. You suddenly wonder if you’re underdressed in this thing. You should have put on fishnet stockings or put on makeup or styled your hair or something. God, you are such an idiot!

You’re still fighting around with poses when you hear him coming up the stairs. Why did he leave his shoes on? Maybe he’s planning on mowing the lawn or something. You quickly pick a random pose on the edge of the bed, even though it kind of hurts your back. You throw your shoulders back, supporting your upper half on your arms as you lean slightly back, throw out your chest and spread your legs a little so that he can get just a hint of the fact that nothing’s covering you down below.

The doorknob begins to turn. You shift your shoulders slightly, they’re starting to hurt. And then you hear a voice you did not expect.

“I’m just gonna grab it quick.” Fuck! It’s Arthur’s brother (he’s adopted but still family), John Marston. What the hell is he doing here?

You start coming out of your pose but are not fast enough. John starts walking in the room, his head turned back to call to Arthur, and then he turns his head and your eyes meet.

John’s face immediately goes white and you watch his eyes quickly go over your body before he claps his hand over his eyes. Your face is burning up so bad you might as well be a miniature sun and you try to grab the comforter off the bed to cover yourself. You’re sitting on it though and it refuses to stretch up enough to do the job.

“Sorry!” John hisses. He quickly shuts the door and starts heading down the hall, his eyes burning. He wishes he could scrub them with soap. He doesn’t think you’re unattractive, but you’re Arthur’s girlfriend! He would never want to look at you that way!

He rubs his eyes and immediately crashes into a big, fleshy barrier.

“Didn’t ya find it?” Arthur asks, addressing John’s clearly empty hands.

“You know, Arthur, I think I’ll grab it a different time. Y/N’s in there and she… I think she wants to talk to you.”

“You a’right? Ya look like ya seen a ghost, boah.”

John just puts his hands up, shakes his head and walks around Arthur. “Like I said, I don’t need it right now, I’ll grab it some other time. Just go talk with Y/N, think she’s got a bone to pick with you.”

John leaves the house, leaving Arthur quite confused. Are you pissed? He heard you yell out but couldn’t make out any words. Honestly you sounded more scared than mad. But maybe you’re ticked off about something. Arthur sighs and begins heading down to the bedroom. He starts wondering what he did to make you mad, but he honestly can’t think of anything.

“Did I leave the bedroom light on again before I left?” he thinks aloud. “Did I forget to turn on the dishwasher? Leave up the toilet seat? What, woman, what did I do this time?”

He opens the door, resolved for an inevitable scolding, and sees you sitting on the edge of the bed, your face in your hands. He immediately notices the tiny piece slipped over your body.

“What? What’s goin’ on?” he asks.

You look up, your face still burning. “Oh my God, Arthur! I am so sorry!” You start giggling. “I think I just gave John the scare of his life!”

Things click into place and Arthur raises his eyebrow. “Oh dear,” he says, then he begins laughing too. You both laugh yourselves out before Arthur says he’ll text John and explain you’d no idea he was going to be here.

“Good. I meant for this to be a surprise!” you say, gesturing to your covering.

Arthur smiles and puts his hand on his hip. “Well, I am surprised to see it. What’s this for?”

“Well, what do you think, Arthur?”

“Let me see it,” he says.

You smile and relax your body, flipping what little of the comforter you used to cover yourself. You take on a pose, thrusting out your chest and spreading your legs. You shaved your undercarriage earlier, so he can get a full view of everything.

“Damn, girl,” he says. You look up at him and see where he’s staring. It makes you blush. “Seriously though, why’d you even put this thing on? You could have sat like this butt-naked and I’d be happy.”

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t? Otherwise John would have seen everything.” You enunciate the word. “Besides, this is supposed to be for teasing you, making you excited. Like a present.”

“Well it’s certainly doin’ that. And I’m glad that if John had to see you like this, he didn’t get a full view.”

You giggle and gesture him forward with a finger. He smiles and walks over, stripping out of his clothes as he does so. He’s already half hard by the time he gets to you.

“You know, I think I actually like this thing,” he says, sliding his hands over your hips as you lay down for him. “You look sexy as hell in this.”

He bends down and kisses you, then his hands go to the top of the piece and he pulls down, popping your nipples out so he can play with them. Then his hand glides down and starts playing between your folds, making you groan into his mouth.

“I’m definitely sold on this,” he says. He starts kissing down your body, his lips gliding over the black material and then he kneels down by the bed, staring up into your slit. He kisses your inner thigh and grabs your knees, spreading them even more.

“A’right, darlin’. You say this is to make you like a present. I’m ready to see what’s inside.”

You tremble under him as he goes to work, using his tongue to bring you to your edge. As you moan and writhe under him, his mouth working wonders, you definitely feel this piece was worth every penny.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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dear-selena · 4 years

Note

Omg, if you’re feeling it could you make a Caught Web Handed part two? I loved part one sm!

Caught Web Handed (Pt. 2)

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: “Omg, if you’re feeling it could you make a Caught Web Handed part two? I loved part one sm!”

Summary: When a new Tumblr blogger who claims to be Spider-Man starts reblogging a ton of Spider-Man fanfiction, including yours, the community goes into a frenzy and you confront the boy who promised not to say anything.

Warnings: Some swearing, this is literally so meta be warned

A/N: I would like to thank the anon who requested this two months ago! I’m sorry it took me so long to write this out! I genuinely didn’t know how to continue this story until recently. If you want me to continue this, please let me know! I could possibly write one more part to this, but only if you guys want it.

Words: 1971

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Part 1

—————-

You love that Tumblr started the group chat feature, but damn, you wish you got notifications from it.

Yawning, you cover your mouth and suddenly crave your bed. Last night, you stayed up messaging a ton of bloggers in a new group chat someone created for your favorite web-slinging hero and didn’t even realize how late it was when the conversation whined down.

The group chat is called “Them Spider-Man OCs 😩😍🕸🕷❤️💙” and is filled with a bunch of your mutuals. The entire night was spent complimenting one another on each other’s fanfictions, and sharing anything and everything about everyone’s OC’s. You couldn’t help the giddiness you felt when people told you how much they loved Trevor Trenton, your Spider-Man OC.

Because Tumblr mobile refuses to send notifications when you get new messages, you stayed on the app for hours to make sure you were as involved in the conversation as possible. You knew you could have left the conversation at any moment, but you were just way too excited to finally bond with all your mutuals at once.

Walking down the halls of Midtown High, you lazily stroll to your first class as if you had all the time in the world to get there. You hadn’t seen your friends yet this morning, making time go especially slow. Not knowing what else to do, you decide to open the Tumblr mobile app and check for new notifications in your group chat. To your surprise, a green circle appeared on the group chat photo someone edited of Spider-Man swinging through Queens with heart emojis all around him.

You open the chat, and your heart jumps immediately.

(Your Favorite Spider-Man Blog): Guys did TheOfficialSpiderMan account reblog your work too or is it just me?!?!

Suddenly frozen in place, you reread (Favorite Spider-Man Blog)’s message. With your heart bouncing in your chest, full of uncomfortable adrenaline, you quickly leave the chat and check messages and had to stop yourself from screaming.

An account called TheOfficialSpiderMan had indeed reblogged your latest update on your Trevor Trenton fanfiction.

Tapping on the blogger’s icon, you start investigating if this was truly the “Official” Spider-Man. The first thing you do is read the bio:

“Yes, I’m the real Spider-Man XD. Still trying to figure out how to use this site so bear with me.

Queens, NY | Avenger | Science Nerd”

Looking at the blog’s avatar, you see that it’s a selfie that the hero took while swinging in the air. You’ve never seen a photo of Spider-Man like this before, but you couldn’t tell if it was edited or not. If this is a fake account, this person must be really good at photoshop…

Scrolling through the blog, you notice that this person’s not only reblogged your fanfiction but almost all your mutuals too. You recognized some of the stories as one’s you’ve read prior and almost all of them were from people who were in the Spider-Man group chat with you. Eventually, however, you scrolled to the bottom of the blog and found a simple text post.

“Hey Everyone! It’s me, Spider-Man. I’m just here to interact with you guys cause I’ve heard that I have fans on this site. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for supporting me. Love you all

The post, although wholehearted and sweet, immediately fills you with worry. If this truly was Spider-Man, that means your favorite hero, the hero you’ve been fantasizing about through your writing, was reading your stuff. He was reading this personified version of himself that you created for your silly romantic pleasure, and that scares you shitless. A part of you feels exposed in a way you never thought possible, and even though your Tumblr username doesn’t quite give away your identity, you still feel extremely vulnerable. The thought of the man behind the mask seeing your work makes you feel quite uneasy, especially because you don’t know who the man behind the mask is.

Suddenly, the bell for first-period rings, and you’re brought back to reality. As peers shuffle through the halls around you, you shove your phone in your pocket and pick up the pace to get to your first class. While walking, you couldn’t help but wonder Why Spider-Man chose to solely reblog fanfiction. There are plenty of Spider-Man Tumblr posts consisting of gif-sets, fan edits, and general news about him, so why fanfiction?

It was as if Spider-Man has some sort of motivated intentions.

——————

Peter Parker hits the reblog button on yet another well-written story about him.

Well, better yet, him as a superhero.

Ever since he found out that you write fanfiction about Spider-Man a couple of months back, Peter couldn’t stop wondering what else was written about him. After a self-debate for whether or not it’d be a good idea to actually make a Tumblr account and find your work, he decided to go for it. After all, he was pretty bored last night, and what better way to interact with fans that through a popular fandom website?

So he created “TheOfficialSpiderMan” and immediately started reading fanfiction.

He has to say, he was quite amazed at how talented his fans were. A lot of the stories and characters they created were so unique, and the plots they wrote up were quite clever! He instantly picked up on some tropes people would write about, including ones where the reader was Iron Man’s child (he has to admit, he found those stories quite meta).

And after a ton of scrolling and reblogging, he came across a story about a version of Spider-Man named Trevor Trenton. He immediately knew that this story was yours, and took notice of your Tumblr name, (Your Tumblr blog name). He wanted to follow you but figured he should lay low right now. ‘I shouldn’t be giving certain fans special attention… especially if this certain fan is a good friend of his and possibly his crus-.’

“Hey, Peter!”

Peter turns around to see Ned with his usual smile on his face.

“Oh, Ned! Guess what?” Peter proceeds to shove his phone in his best friend’s hand. “I found (Y/N)’s Tumblr account!”

Ned’s eyes go wide as he examines Peter’s phone, seeing a post with your blog name on it. “Oh my god, Peter,” Ned starts to laugh. “You did not just join Tumblr to find her fanfiction.”

“Of course not,” Peter protests, going to show the blog account. “Spider-Man did.”

Ned looks up at Peter with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Damn Peter,” Ned says sarcastically. “Didn’t think you’d be one to join fandom culture.”

Peter rolls his eyes as the bell rings, indicating that second-period was about to start. Saying a quick goodbye to Ned, Peter quickly makes his way to his robotics class, a class that you just so happen to share with him. As Peter enters the room, he scans it and instantly spots you at one of the workshop tables, head buried in your phone, and wide-eyed.

Peter smirks. He knows exactly what’s going on.

He makes his way over you, and plops down in the seat next to you, causing you to look up at him in surprise. “Oh, hey Peter.” you squeak out, completely caught off-guard.

Peter couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The last time he saw you this flustered was when MJ caught you writing Spider-Man fanfiction back at his place, and he had to admit, you looked pretty cute. “Hey, (Y/N). What are you looking at?”

You look back at your phone and quickly snooze the screen, shoving your phone in your pocket. “Oh, i-it’s nothing…” You say unconfidently, a blush appearing on your face. “Just a stupid Tumblr update.”

“Oh?” Peter asks, knowing what you meant by ‘update’. “Does it have to do with Spider-Man?” He couldn’t help but push the conversation on you. He was too excited to see your reaction.

“Actually, yeah.” You finally admit after a moment. “My mutuals and I are kinda freaking out cause a blog that claims to be Spider-Man is reblogging our stories. It’s weird.”

“Really, weird?” He questions. “What makes that so weird?”

“Why would a superhero go online just to read fanfiction. Superheroes shouldn’t even know about this kinda stuff. They should be focused on, I don’t know… saving the world or something. It’s just weird that he’s only reblogging fanfiction and-.” You cut yourself off when you look up at Peter and see he’s just sitting there, head propped up against his hand, leaning on the table with his elbow, sporting a knowing smirk of some sort. Confused at why he was looking at you like that, you almost question him. But that was when you started to connect the dots.

It feels like Spider-Man has some motivated intentions. Peter Parker is intentionally talking about this with you.

You squint your eyes at the boy in front of you. “Peter, did you tell Spider-Man about fanfiction?”

Peter blinks, his smirk off his face. “W-what? No, I didn’t.”

Your glare intensifies, and Peter sits up straight. “Are you lying to me? You just had your ‘I-know-something-you-don’t face on.”

Peter swallows, suddenly nervous. He didn’t think you’d react like this. “I’m not lying, (Y/N). I did not tell Spider-Man about fanfiction.”

You did… a couple of months ago…

You look away, now glaring at the table. “Then explain how Spider-Man knows about fanfiction and why he only reblogs it?”

Peter starts to sweat. “Uh, I-I don’t know. Maybe he likes to read?”

“Or someone told him to find it?” You look back up at Peter, whose clearly uncomfortable, making it easier for you to believe that he’s lying. “Maybe while they were at their Stark Internship or something?”

Peter mentally facepalms. He’s not getting out of this, is he?

“(Y/N), please.” Peter pleads. “I promise I didn’t say anything to S-Spider-Man. And even if I did, why is it so bad? Why is it bad that he’s reading fanfiction?”

“Because!” You shout, catching the attention of some of your classmates. Embarrassed, you force Peter to crouch down close to you so you can whisper. “The stories on Tumblr can get a bit uncanny. What if he finds smut about himself?”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “What’s a smut?”

You roll your eyes. “Exactly, and I’m NOT going into that right now.” You shudder, realizing what could happen if your favorite hero finds stories like… that.

Nevertheless, you push those thoughts out of your head and continue on. “But seriously Peter. You told me you wouldn’t tell him about this stuff, and how he’s reading a ton of it? Something doesn’t add up.”

Peter wants to argue back, but he honestly doesn’t know what to say. He can’t assure you that your writing is good and that he’s enjoying seeing his fans’ creativity because he’d have to reveal his secret to you, and that’s the last thing he wants to do. Especially now.

Before he knows it, your packing your stuff back up, getting out of your seat and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Find me when you can tell me the truth.” With that, you walk to the other side of the room and sit at a new table, just in time for the teacher to walk in and discuss the new project.

Peter couldn’t help but mentally beat himself up. Was doing all this a mistake? He genuinely just wanted to find your work and actually interact with his fans. He never expected it to backfire like this. Now he has to find a way to assure you he wasn’t technically lying, all while keeping his identity a secret. With all the thoughts racing through his mind, there was one that stood out:

He fucked up.

————–

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut // @bookstoreblossom // @jackiehollanderr

-Marvel Tag List-

@sammghgecko

-Permanent Tag List-

@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny // @cals-cigarette // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @delicately-important-trash // @unlikelygalaxygive

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #spiderman ffh #spiderman far from home #ffh #marvel #mcu #tom holland #tom holland x reader #dear-selena fanfiction

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

A Kind Of Magic

Here is the next part :)

“Encourage, lift and strengthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all. For we are connected, one and all.”

Taron woke up cosy, the duvet pulled right up to his chin as he lay on his right side.

“Ugh ow.” He groaned. Sleeping on his right side was uncomfortable and painful on his sore arm and ribs and he had been avoiding it, mostly choosing to lay on his back, or left side. He slowly rolled to his back, cringing as he did so, feeling an unpleasant sensation of prickling torment for a few seconds, until his body settled. He looked to his left to see it was just him in the bed, Robyn’s chosen side empty, the duvet neatly pulled up to the pillow. He figured she was the reason he felt so warm and snug under the duvet but he was bothered by the fact that she wasn’t there sleeping. Taron knew without a doubt that Robyn was running on fumes and although she had willingly allowed him in emotionally, he wished he could help her rest and actually sleep.

He reached over to the bedside locker and picked up his phone. Blinking at the bright light as he unlocked the screen checking the time and the day more importantly. He didn’t want to see that he had slept another full day.

“Saturday.” He sighed a relief and even more so when he saw it was actually early morning. Just before ten but frowned when he saw another missed call from Richard. He had completely forgotten to call him back yesterday but he knew Richard would understand when he phoned him and explained why.

As tempting at it was to roll over and snuggle back into the pillow, Taron drew back the duvet cover enjoying the fresh air that the air conditioning circulated around the room and eased himself out of the bed. He didn’t feel as stiff as he did yesterday but was quite tender and sensitive from laying on his hurt side during the night.

He stood up carefully and wandered out in search of Robyn and found her standing at the island in her kitchen, cutting some fruit on a chopping board.

“Good morning.” She said brightly as he sleepily walked in to kitchen.

Robyn was quickly adding a new Taron to her mind as this half awake, messy haired Taron was definitely her favourite yet and she was trying very hard to use this new image of Taron to replace the ones that plagued her dreams last night. His mam had made an appearance too, throwing picture after picture of her son at her, telling her she had killed her child. Robyn had woken up startled at one am, after four hours sleep and just lay in the bed, again watching Taron as he slept. She got up from the bed around four and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, including the bathroom. At nine she had a quick shower, plaited her hair in two French braids and threw on another pair of demin shorts, a Hawaiian patterned string top along with her blue converse. She opened the doors of the apartment letting the beautiful morning air and sunshine in and had set the garden up for the day pulling out two sun loungers from the garden shed, putting the cushions on the chair swing and plugging in the small water fountain too. She then started her usual weekend morning breakfast routine of making waffles, while listening to music. She was in the middle of cutting up the fruit to go with the waffles when Taron walked into the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” He replied as he stopped and gave her a hug from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek, before moving to lean against the sink.

“Sleep well?” She asked him, hoping he didn’t see the easy blush that rose to her cheeks from his little kiss. She adored how easy Taron was with his affection.

“Yeah. That bed is magnificent. Don’t think I beat my record though.”

“No but close to it. Eleven hours.”

“And how many did you get?” He asked

“A few.” She replied.

“A few?” He probed as he moved to stand beside her. “How many qualifies as a few?”

“Four?” She answered honestly.

“Nightmares?”

“Staring your lovely mam this time.” Robyn knew she couldn’t lie to Taron. He would see through her in an instant.

“Jesus Robyn. My mam?”

She stopped cutting the strawberries and turned to him. “I know your mam would never do what she did in my dream and if it makes it any better, it was four hours uninterrupted. That hasn’t happened for me in a while.”

Taron sighed. He felt guilty for sleeping so soundly when his host struggled so much. “What did you do once you woke?”

Robyn put the strawberries she had cut in a bowl and moved onto the mango beside her. “I cleaned the apartment.”

“Not for my benefit I hope.” He said quickly.

“No, just my usual Saturday clean. I want to get back into some sort a routine like I had before I moved to Florida even with you here and you are not in my way and you are not imposing on me Taron.” She said knowing he was going to apologise for turning up unannounced. “I enjoy having the company and you know I am very glad you are here.”

Taron stole a piece of strawberry from the bowl and skipped around the island as she went to tap his hand away. “I need to take my pain killers with food. What are you making?” He asked picking up his bottles of pain killers, knowing he had to take them twice a day, morning and evening.

“Waffles.” Answered Robyn as she cut around the stone in the mango.

“Waffles?” He stopped and looked at her. “Seriously?”

“It actually is my normal Saturday breakfast. It is not because you are here. I mix it up between waffles and pancakes every weekend. I just fancied waffles this morning.”

“Let me guess, you have a waffle maker.” Taron left his tablets on the counter and walked around to get a glass from the press he knew they were in and filled it with water from the fridge.

“It was actually a present from my friend Claire. I didn’t buy it myself. It is not something I would ever buy for myself but seeing as how I have it, I make use of it, only on the weekends though.”

“Waffles for breakfast and key lime pie for tea last night.” Grinned Taron as he took his painkillers, but Robyn saw his face change once he drank the rest of the water. “My trainer is going to have some job to get me back in shape when I am back filming but not because of you Robyn. I don’t mean it like that.” Taron quickly corrected himself. “I mean because I can’t train or move much. I am going to be such a pudding by the time I am back ready to film.”

“Don’t even Taron.” Said Robyn and Taron was taken back by the annoyance in her voice and looked at her to see a serious look of irritation on her face. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She stopped slicing the mango and put down the knife. “No one should talk about themselves like that. This is why I like working with children. They don’t judge. They just see you for who you are and don’t care about what you look like. I wish the world could be seen through the eyes of a child.” Robyn walked around to stand beside Taron. “I thought you didn’t care about that Hollywood shit.”

“Well I don’t but…”

“Exactly but it gets to you and I know it gets to you but it shouldn’t. Want my honest truth?” Taron nodded. He very much valued Robyn’s opinion and words. “As a woman, if I had a choice between Eggsy and Eddie, I would choose Eddie.”

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yes really. I, as a fan of your work, watched interviews of your time of promoting Eddie the Eagle.” Robyn pointed to herself. “Huge Hugh Jackman fan. Anyway, I could easily see how uncomfortable you were every time someone mentioned your physical transformation and it shouldn’t even have been a question asked or commented on. Same for your portrayal as Elton too. It shouldn’t matter and as someone who has struggled with their own body confidence, I know how it feels. Nobody should be judged by how they look but because the world we live in, is one of a shallow photoshop society where magazines and television decide and depict how a man or woman should look, it makes those of us who don’t fit that certain look feel worthless and unattractive. I would choose Eddie over Eggsy any day because that is what is real. I don’t want you thinking that you can’t have something sweet because it will turn you into a so-called pudding. I happen to like pudding and thinking about shit like that fucks with your mind and brings you spiralling down a horrible rabbit hole. You are perfect, whether you are a pudding or a rice cake.”

“A rice cake?” Taron looked at Robyn titling his head.

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind that could compare to pudding but seriously Taron. Don’t starve yourself from something you want because of what is going to happen two months or so down the line. Shouldn’t what happened to us last week, make us even more aware that life is short and we should eat the God damn pudding. This is why I hate the pressure of having to look a certain way, or being judged for how you look because it…”

“Is what inside that counts.” Finished Taron.

“Yes it bloody is and it makes me angry to hear you talk like that. You are beautiful Taron inside and out.”

“Just like you.” Confirmed Taron. “Yes you.” He repeated when he saw that same doubt in Robyn’s eyes that he had felt in his less than two minutes ago. “I wouldn’t have said it in your office if I didn’t believe it and you cannot lecture me on my body confidence and not let me return the favour.”

“Thank you. It has taken me a long time to be comfortable in my own skin but I won’t listen to you bring yourself down like that. Nothing wrong with a little bit of pudding Taron. I told you I preferred Eddie and you are in an Irish house and Irish people feed their guests so I won’t hear you say it again and you will eat everything that is put in front of you and there is nothing stopping us from taking small walks every day and it will help to build your strength back up and the baking has really only been happening because I can’t sleep. I am actually really good during the week. I would go for an hour walk every day after work and I rarely get take out and normally cook nice healthy things and…”

Taron threw his arms around Robyn, stopping her mid-sentence pulling her close for another one of their hugs that said so much without using any words. “Thank you.” He said simply. Taron felt a sudden surge of self-confidence and assurance that he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was completely touched by Robyn’s words and the fact the she noticed how uncomfortable he was when others hadn’t. It was so refreshing to hear Robyn speak so positive about what he considered his faults and he very much appreciated her encouraging words. “And thanks for putting the knife down before you scolded me. I thought you were going to stab me there for a minute.”

“Well I might still do if you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Luckily you can patch me back up too afterwards.”

Laughter filled the kitchen as they broke the hug. “So, waffles?” Asked Robyn.

“Waffles.” Agreed Taron.

“They come with fruit too.” She said as she walked back around to where she had been chopping the fruit.

“I am just going to have a quick shower and change. Looks like another beautiful day out there.”

“Yeah it’s going to be a scorcher. Figured we could just sit in the garden and listen to music and not do much else.”

“Yes please.”

“Go shower. I shall continue waffling.”

Taron headed back to the bedroom and pulled the duvet up the bed up so it was fully made. He went into the closet and carefully lifted his bag into the bed, straining with the effort and routed through for his wash bag. Grabbing it, he walked into the bathroom and after he had closed the door, saw that Robyn had replaced the towels he had used the day before with fresh red ones. He was actually surprised with the colour of the towels considering Robyn’s apartment was filled with cool blue tones but when he felt the softness of the towel, he knew why she had bought the red ones.

He enjoyed the rainfall shower just as much the second time but didn’t take as long as his muscles weren’t as tense as before. Looking in the mirror he saw something in his face he hadn’t seen for a long time and it was a brightness in his eyes and an almost need to constantly smile and he enjoyed feeling like that again. Routing through his wash bag, he pulled out his razor and made quick work of shaving off his seven-day beard, feeling fresher afterwards. He had to take extra care on the right side of his face but managed to get a clean shave that he was happy with. Running his hands through his damp hair, he walked back into Robyn’s room and changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue flower print t-shirt, just buttoning the bottom two buttons. Not bothering with shoes again, Taron walked back into the kitchen to see Robyn whisking some batter in a bowl with a whisk by hand.

“Need any help?” He asked.

“I am all good.” Replied Robyn and she turned to look at him. “Hey you shaved and you stole my outfit choice.”

Robyn stood with her right hand on her hip and stared at Taron. He looked like he had gotten a new lease of life after his time in the bathroom. His eyes shone with happiness that she had never seen in person before and although his clean-shaven profile highlighted the bruising on his face more, he looked so much more content in himself.

“I stole your outfit choice?” He asked puzzled.

“Yeah, I was dressed before you so I get to rock the Hawaiian vibe.”

Taron then realised what she meant, looking to her patterned top, then to his and grinned. “The print is different though.”

“I like print on you.” Robyn tuned back to whisking the batter in her glass bowl. “It really suits you but you still stole my style for the day.”

Taron laughed. He loved it when Robyn was in this wonderful giddy mood and it made her whole face light up when she laughed with him. “I am sure I can do something to help you.” He insisted.

“In the press to your left, under the hob is the waffle maker. You can take it out for me and plug it on the hob.”

Taron set up the red waffle maker as Robyn had asked. “Does it annoy you that this is red and does not match any of the décor of your home?”

“Dear God yes and that is why Claire bought it for me because she knew it would bug the hell out of me.” Robyn moved the bowl of batter over to where Taron was standing. “But it makes good waffles.” She pulled a ladle from the jar behind the hob and waited for the light to turn green.

“How many piercings do you have?”

“What?”

“I never noticed all the earrings that you had before.”

Robyn turned to him as he leant against the sink. “Yeah I went through a phase in my twenties where I got one new piercing a year. I have ten, waiting to get my eleventh and because my hair is tied back, they are more obvious plus I wear the tiniest studs.”

“Can you have that many working with children? Wouldn’t they pull them out?”

“Actually no. It’s not something that is an issue, not where I work anyway and mine are quite reserved and small studs. The kids like to count them and four are stars so I mean, I am teaching them shapes through my earrings.”

“Which one is your favourite and which one hurt the most.” He asked taking a closer look at her right ear which had the most, small crystal studs in unusual places on her ear.

“My third lobes hurt the most and my favourite is a toss up between the tragus and rook.” Robyn pointed at the piercings as she named them. “They just stay in all the time. I never take them out and I rarely change the actual jewellery. Once they are in, they are in.”

“I have one.” Taron touched his right ear where his empty piercing was. “Just one but it was for my role as Elton. I only put it back in when I was going to Florida. I haven’t been wearing it because of Kingsman. Actually, Doctor Hart had to get the nurse to take it out before the CT scan. She gave it to Richard to mind for me and I just haven’t put it back in yet. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Well if you want a replacement, I have plenty of spares.” The light on the waffle machine turned green and beeped. Robyn turned around and lifted the lid. She poured a ladle of batter into each section and closed the lid. “I have already set the table up outside for us if that’s ok.”

“Yep sounds good.”

“Do you want some tea again or I have some juice in the fridge or I could pull out the coffee maker. I have one, just don’t use it very often.”

“I am going to stick with juice I think.” Taron walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. “Ok so pineapple, orange or tropical?” He asked.

“I like to mix orange and pineapple together.”

“Excellent.” Taron grabbed the two cartons of juice and took them from the door and placed them on the island behind him. He then got two glasses and filled both with half pineapple and half orange, while Robyn pulled two plates out and dished two waffles onto each, making sure she plugged out the waffle maker when she was done.

Taron carried the glasses and Robyn the plates and together they walked out to the garden to the table where they had their eggs the previous night. Robyn had remembered the cutlery this time and she had a large bowl filled with fruit and some American pancake syrup on the table. “Breakfast of champions.” Smiled Taron as he sat down on the same chair he had been in the night before, Robyn sitting next to him. “You really do this every weekend?” He asked as Robyn handed him the bowl of fruit, a mix of strawberries, mango, raspberries and blueberries that looked very inviting and colourful.

“Yep. Sometimes Claire comes over too but it’s more like a brunch with her rather than a breakfast and we add eggs, sausages and rashers too and if I have any potatoes left over from Fridays dinner, we would chop them up and toss them in as well.”

Taron could hear his stomach rumbling as he spooned some fruit onto his plate. “Sounds like my kind of brunch.”

“There is this little restaurant here that does this amazing breakfast. I will bring you just so can you taste this dish they make called hash – poaches eggs, potatoes, caramelised onion, rashers and hollandaise.”

“Stop it.” Taron paused mid pour of some syrup on the waffles.

“It’s so good.”

“This is so good. Thanks Robyn.” He handed her the bottle of syrup.

“I was making it anyway so it’s just as easy to make for two.”

“Robyn I know I have said it before but you just make me feel so relaxed and calm and I don’t think you actually understand apart from being at home, how hard it is for me to find a place that does that, especially after what happened in the 7/11.”

“You are always welcome here Taron. When you need a break, just call me. Remember how you said I was kind of stuck in your world?” Taron nodded as he chewed. “Well you are very quickly sticking to mine too.”

“Hey, if your world always comes with waffles for breakfast, I am there.”

A natural comfortable silence found the two as they ate their breakfast, the music filtering out to the garden from the sitting room, both enjoying the peace of the morning around them.

“When we are finished breakfast, would you mind putting the small dressing on my shoulder?” Asked Robyn as she sat back in her chair with her glass. “I didn’t do it myself this morning because I knew you had offered to help me.”

“Of course I will.” Taron was about to ask Robyn if she would help him when another voice interrupted him.

“Robyn? Robyn are you up? I can hear the music from the front door.”

Robyn almost dropped her glass, coughing as her drink went down the wrong way, wiping her mouth as juice dribbled down her chin, Taron taking her glass from her hand before it fell onto the deck.

“Robyn, you ok?” He asked as he gentled patted her back.

“Ugh shit. Yes I am but shit. I am just going to say sorry now ok?”

Taron frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Ahh Robyn! There you are. I figured you would be up but I am surprised you are not sunning yourself already. It’s such a beautiful… Oh who is this?”

Taron watched as Robyn’s hands went to her face, a look of pure embarrassment filling her pretty features.

“Hi mam.”

Robyn got up from her chair to stand, Taron’s hand falling from her back as she moved to greet the lady who had just walked into her back garden. She was slightly shorter than Robyn, with short dark blonde hair, wearing shorts and a white pattern t-shirt with palm leaves on it.

“Hey Robyn.” Robyn’s mam walked over to the table where Taron and her were enjoying their breakfast. “I didn’t realise you had a visitor, a male visitor.” She added, Robyn immediately rolling her eyes to her mother.

“Mam, this is Taron.” Robyn turned to look him, giving him what he hoped was a very apologetic look. “Taron, this is Lizzie, my mother.”

Taron got to his feet to greet Robyn’s mam wincing as he stood, his right side still feeing raw after laying on it all night, his left hand going to his ribs. Robyn noticed the expression of pain on his face and moved closer to him, her hand on his shoulder “Go slow. You’re still hurt.”

He nodded to her and then moved the few steps to greet their visitor. “It is so lovely to meet you Lizzie.” Taron could see the shock on Lizzie’s face as she realised who he was, her blue eyes staring at him, the same shape and colour as Robyn’s.

“Taron as in Robyn’s Taron from the store in Florida?”

He smirked “Yeah I guess you could call me Robyn’s Taron.”

Robyn nearly fell to wooden deck with embarrassment as her mam finally put two and two together and grasped who Taron was.

“I usually just go by Taron though.” He added, taking a look to Robyn who was sitting on the arm rest of the chair looking absolutely mortified, finally shaking Lizzie’s hand.

“Ah wow, hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” Lizzie shook Taron’s hand, taking a look to her daughter. “You didn’t tell me Taron came to see you.”

“Guess it slipped my mind.” Replied Robyn.

“Slipped your mind?”

“Yeah, just slipped.”

Lizzie gave her daughter a very disapproving look, one that Taron saw clearly. “Well I am very glad to meet you Taron, especially after what you and Robyn have been through. Such a frightening experience for you both.”

Taron moved back so he stood beside Robyn on her left and took her hand in his. “Yes, it was but having Robyn there made it much easier for me.” He gave her hand a gently pat. “I kind of turned up unexpected and Robyn has been nothing but a gracious host.” Taron looked to Lizzie. “It’s thanks to your daughter that I am standing here. She is a truly remarkable woman and I am very blessed that she was willing to help a complete stranger.”

“She has her moments.” Smiled Lizzie, watching he held tightly onto Robyn’s hand. She thought her daughter looked tired until she took in the appearance of the man who stood beside her. Painful looking bruises and grazes spoilt his handsome face, stitches were visible on his right arm and with the few buttons open at the top of his shirt, Lizzie could clearly see where her daughter had performed the lifesaving actions that meant he was standing in front of her but more than that, she could see the connection the two had, how they were turned to each other probably without even knowing they were doing so.

Lizzie was extremely proud of her daughter if not a little angry at her for leaving Florida so quickly. She had told Robyn she should have stayed until Taron woke up, that what had happened between the two of them was so much more important than her job but Robyn being Robyn, ignored her emotions and went head first back into work.

She was stunned to see the man whose Robyn spoke so fondly of now sitting in her daughters back garden, eating breakfast with her. However, she was also glad in a way as she saw how distant Robyn had been since she got home and was very worried about how she was reacting to what had happened to her, in that she wasn’t at all, keeping her feelings to herself. It concerned Lizzie knowing that even as her mother she couldn’t help her daughter and she had no idea of the trauma that she had been through, so seeing Taron in front her gave her some hope that he might be able to break through the thick barriers that her daughter had built. She could see that maybe already he had done so as he held Robyn’s hand in hers. “My Robyn tends to get stuck in when she needs to. Gets in her trouble sometimes too but she always has everyone’s best interest at heart.”

Taron agreed. “Yes she does and I know I am very grateful for it.”

“So how long have you come to stay for?” Asked Lizzie but seeing the look exchanged between Robyn and Taron, knew that conversation hadn’t happened yet.

“Taron knows he is welcome to stay for as long as he would like.” Robyn gave his hand a little squeeze.

“I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.” Answered Taron. “But if Robyn is happy to let me stay for as long as I like and keeps feeding me waffles for breakfast, I might not leave.”

“Right it’s porridge and water from now on!” Laughed Robyn, enjoying how Taron chuckled along with her.

“What is your shift next week Robyn?” Asked Lizzie.

“I am opening again. The new girl is on the early shift so Emma wants me there to help train her in and get used to opening the creche.”

“Great. You and Taron must come over for dinner then next week then.”

“Wait what?” Robyn looked to her mam.

“Yes yes. I want both of you over for dinner next week. The weather is supposed to stay like this until the middle of next week so let’s say Tuesday? Your dad will be thrilled to start up the BBQ.”

“Mam I think Taron would like to use this time to rest and relax after what happened and not sit through an interrogation of questions.”

“Actually…” Started Taron looking to Robyn. “I would love to have dinner with your family. I know how much your family means to you and you know how much mine means to me, so if we could, I would very much like to get to know yours.”

Robyn could see the genuine look of interest in his eyes and turned back to her mam. “What time?”

“Say seven? It will give you time to get home and ready to come over and we won’t ask too many questions Robyn. We will limit it to ten each.”

“Oh dear God.” Sighed Robyn, Taron and Lizzie both laughing at her reaction.

“Ok great. Your dad will be delighted. Now I shall leave you to your breakfast. It was lovely meeting you Taron.”

“You too Lizzie.”

“Robyn come and hug your mother.”

Robyn let go of Taron’s hand and gave her mam a hug. “He’s cute.” She whispered into her daughters’ ear. “And you’re doing a very wonderful thing looking after him. He looks like he needs it.” Robyn gave her a mam an extra squeeze.

“Taron, you too love.” Robyn moved back and let Taron take her place, Lizzie being extra careful as she hugged him. “Look after my daughter for me.” She felt Taron give the slightest of nods before she let him go. “Right well, if you need anything you know where I am Robyn.”

“Thanks mam.”

Lizzie left the way she came with a wave, Robyn sitting on the arm of her chair again, while Taron stood in front of her.

“I like your mam. She’s very like you and parents were made to embarrass their children. I think it’s just natural law.”

“I am so sorry she just invited us to dinner like that. You did not have to feel obliged to go.”

“I don’t feel obliged. I want to go. I would really like to get to know your family better Robyn and also, thank you for saying I can stay for as long as I would like.”

“I just hope you know what you have walked yourself into and don’t look to me for help when the questions get awkward and you are welcome.” Robyn stood up. “Let’s get this cleaned up and then I am claiming a sun lounger for the rest of the day.”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Breakfast #friendship #Encouragement #Lift Each Other Up #Waffles #Family #embarrasment #Love

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mksc77 · 4 years

Note

I need another blanket for Christmas/winter prompts? Thank you!

Thanks so much for the ask, @commanderraydorsass!

December 19, 2019

Sharon jerked awake when she heard Andy's alarm go off. LA was experiencing a bit of a cold snap, and she was more than happy to be able to stay under the covers. Andy grumbled about it being cold and gave her a suffering look as he climbed out of bed and started for the shower. With him up, Sharon immediately rolled over to his side of the bed, relishing his familiar scent and the warm spot he'd left. She dozed off until she heard him come back in, dressed for work. "Okay, now you're just rubbing it in. This isn't fair."

Sharon sleepily opened an eye in his direction. "It's warmer over here and smells like you...You're only working a half-day, anyway, and then you can come back and keep me warm."

"Ha, ha." Andy leaned down to kiss her. "I love you."

"Love you...hold on." She blindly reached up for his face until he was leaning beside her again, wanting another whiff of his new cologne. "'Kay. Bye."

Sharon got up a little while later and slipped into her warmest robe. The kitchen still smelled faintly of coffee, but she knew Rusty had probably studied for most of the night and left for his last exam of the semester before 6:30 to get more last-minute studying done at school. Still, she confirmed that his car was gone to make sure he hadn't crawled back in bed and overslept before putting a coffee pod in the Keurig. She wasn't going to make another pot just for herself, and the coffee that was left wasn't exactly fresh.

It was too cold to take her coffee out to the porch like she usually did, so Sharon settled in a bar stool and looked out at the gray, misty morning. She was startled by a knock at the garage door, but she looked over and waved in her neighbor, who was dressed for the hike they had planned. She looked at the clock on the microwave. "Oh, my, did we say 8:00? I thought we said 8:30."

Debra shook her head. "No, we said 8:30, we're just out of creamer, and I wanted some coffee first."

Sharon finished her granola bar and got out a coffee mug and the creamer. "You know where the pods are, help yourself to whatever you want. I'll get dressed while you're doing that."

Coffee in hand, she went to her bedroom and changed into her workout gear. It was chilly outside, so she looked through her drawers for her warmest sweatshirt. Once her mug was empty, she tied up her hair and brushed her teeth. Debra was finishing her coffee by the time she got back to the kitchen. "Ready to go?"

The hiking trail was a couple of blocks from their neighborhood, so it wasn't long before they were back home. It was after 10:00, and Sharon's granola bar was long gone. "I know this defeats the purpose, but I wouldn't mind cooking breakfast if you want to come back over. I'm getting hungry again."

Debra shrugged. "Sounds good to me. I have stuff for mimosas, I'll run home and get it. Need anything else?"

"I think we have everything. See you in a minute." Sharon stopped at the end of the driveway to get the mail. The Christmas cards had stopped in the last couple of days, but there seemed to be a couple of stragglers in today's mail. She opened the cards first and added them to the bulletin board beside the refrigerator that was now covered with Marie, Nicole's and Dean's children, Mark, her siblings' and friends' grandchildren, and the children of some of Emily's and Ricky's high school friends. The last one she opened was from Patrice, and she laughed at the image of Provenza's face photoshopped into The Grinch and Patrice's into Cindy Lou Who.

She got her Christmas playlist started on Google Home and was pulling things out of the refrigerator when the alarm system beeped. Debra came in with another neighbor. "I found a wanderer on the way back," she explained.

"Hi, Caroline," Sharon greeted as she started a pot of coffee.

"Hi, Sharon. I can't believe you guys went hiking this morning. I took one look outside and rolled right back over in bed."

"It was tempting," Sharon agreed, "but I feel better now that we've done it. I've been eating like crap this week, and next week will just be worse. I've at least exercised every day, but I probably won't next week...Is it cold in here? I can turn the heat on if I need to."

Caroline shook her head. "God, no. Mike's been bitching about turning on the heat since it got colder this week, but I'm finally not hot all the time, for once. My doctor took me off of hormone replacement, and Mike might miss it more than I do. I wasn't freezing him to death while I was on it, and I would've humped the sink if I could. That stuff had me wanting it all the time."

Sharon laughed. "I remember my sister saying the same thing several years ago. And I'm surprised Andy hasn't whined about wanting to turn on the heat, but I'm sure he will soon."

"On that note, I think it's time for mimosas." Debra opened the champagne and started filling glasses. "I brought my homemade strawberry jelly, too."

"Do you know the way to my heart, or what?" Sharon buttered some bread and slipped the slices into the toaster. "I'm going to need a detox after New Years."

Once the kitchen was clean and her friends were gone, Sharon started a large pot of vegetable soup. Andy came in a little after 1:00 and wrapped his arms around her waist as she was stirring it at the stove. "Mmm, smells good."

"What? Me, or the soup?" Sharon turned to kiss him. "I'm kidding, I know I don't smell great. Debra and I went hiking this morning."

"I'm not complaining." Sharon's playlist was still going, and the next song had Andy twirling her around the kitchen. They're singing deck the halls, but it's not like Christmas at all, 'cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year...

She kissed Andy again before pulling away from him. "I need to take a shower, you mind watching the soup?"

"Sure."

Sharon pulled her top over her head on the way to their bathroom and turned the shower on before discarding her clothes in the hamper. It wasn't five minutes before she felt a slight chill as the shower door was opened. "Andy!"

"I'm going to be watching chick flicks all afternoon, so you can let me have a little fun first."

"But my soup..." Sharon protested with mock concern.

"It's on low. It'll be fine." Andy took the loofah from her hand and took over for her. She relaxed in his arms and let him run it over her. When they got out, Sharon dried off and pulled on her favorite sweatpants and a UCLA sweatshirt. Andy was getting a bowl of soup, but she wasn't hungry yet. After plugging in the Christmas tree lights and adding a cranberry-scented bar to her scent warmer, she settled in the recliner with a couple of blankets and flipped through the streaming options on the TV for Love Actually.

"You're not hungry?" Andy asked, situating himself beside her with his soup.

Sharon shook her head. "Debra, Caroline, and I cooked breakfast just a couple of hours ago. I'll get some in a little bit."

Andy sighed dramatically. "Must be nice."

"Oh, it is...But I can't wait for you to join me. You don't have too much longer...Andy, seriously, your soup's going to get cold!" Sharon said when he kissed her for what seemed like the hundredth time since he got home.

"We're under the mistletoe. That's Christmas's rule, not mine."

Sharon rolled her eyes. Andy had strategically placed mistletoe in several places in the house where they often ended up side by side. "This place is crawling with mistletoe, it's damn near impossible to not be under it."

Andy grinned. "Yeah, that was the point. It's not often that your love for rules works in my favor."

"I do like the rules," Sharon murmured, returning the kiss. "Especially this one."

Andy finished his soup and curled up beside Sharon, trying to get warm. "Sha-aron, it's freezing in here!" The gas logs were on, but they hadn't done much good yet. "Just because you're cold-blooded doesn't mean the rest of us are!"

"It's not freezing, Andy."

"It's close enough. I need another blanket." Andy got a soft brown throw from the chest against the wall and got comfortable again in the chair. He was always a fan of Sharon's appearance, no matter what, but he liked her the best this way. With no makeup, comfortable clothes, and the scent of her soap instead of perfume, he always had a hard time keeping his hands off of her. Love Actually had only been on for a half hour, but he was already lost. "I can never keep up with this movie."

Sharon nudged him as his hand wandered under her blanket. "If you'd pay attention to the movie, for once, then you could follow it."

"Yeah, because that's what my mind is on right now. The movie."

Emily called a few minutes later, asking if she could drop off Marie to take a nap while she finished up her shopping. Sharon met her in the driveway and unbuckled the fifteen-month-old from her car seat. "Hey, precious! Are you going to stay with Gammy for a little bit?" Marie could barely hold her eyes open, but she smiled and reached for Sharon.

"Thanks, Mom," Emily said. "I didn't think it would take me this long, but I want to finish today, and she wasn't having it."

Sharon lifted Marie into her arms and rubbed her back. "It's okay. You know I'll keep her any time. Be careful, honey."

"I will. I should be back in a couple of hours."

Sharon checked Marie's diaper as they walked inside, pausing by the thermostat to switch on the heat. "Let's get you changed, and then I believe it's naptime."

Marie didn't protest at either suggestion like she normally would have and lay still as Sharon got her changed. Andy gave her a knowing look, having heard the heat kick on, as she sat in the recliner beside him with Marie lying on her shoulder. "Oh, so that's what it took to get some warmth in here." His expression softened when Marie gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey, wild girl. We'll play when you wake up, okay?"

Sharon shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I won't need you to keep me warm later."

"Never mind," Andy quickly amended.

Sharon draped her blanket over Marie, rubbing her back and rocking as her eyes began to close. Obviously a little cold, the baby curled into her as she fell asleep. With a contented sigh, Sharon lay against Andy. "I'm so happy," she couldn't help but comment.

"Retirement agrees with you, no question," Andy agreed. She'd had more time for her family and friends than ever before, and she was always glowing when she came home from, or even talked about, the charities she volunteered for downtown a few days a week. "I love seeing you so happy."

"Hmm." Marie's warm weight and heavy breathing were starting to put Sharon to sleep, too. It was warmer by the time the movie was over, so she decided to put her down. "Will you please set up the pack'n play in our room?"

"Sure." Andy carefully edged himself away from them and walked toward their bedroom.

Sharon waited a couple of minutes before following him with the sleeping toddler in her arms. Andy had just finished, so she laid Marie down and lightly patted her stomach before grabbing the monitor and leaving the room. Emily and Emmett had gotten more than one monitor set as gifts, so one of them stayed at Sharon's and Andy's.

Next on the movie list was White Christmas, and Rusty came in from his exam and collapsed on the couch as it was starting. Sharon pried her head away from Andy's shoulder and looked over at him. "Hi, honey, how was your exam? Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Mmph. Remind me to check the exam schedule before I register for classes," Rusty whined. "Even 1Ls didn't have any this late. I should've just gone to Bainbridge's office and bent over. It would've been faster and less painful."

Sharon's eyes widened. "Rusty!"

"Oh. Sorry. Forgot you were Mom," he mumbled against the back of the couch.

He'd started studying for finals around Halloween and was in the top fifteen percent of his class, so Sharon doubted it was all that bad. "I'm sure you did fine, honey."

For the next couple of hours, Sharon and Andy dozed off and on until they heard Marie babbling through the monitor. "I'll get her," Andy volunteered.

Sharon sat up and rubbed her eyes, surprised to see that White Christmas was almost over. Its familiar score and dialogue had lulled her to sleep more than once since it started. She was starting to get hungry, so she got a bowl of vegetable soup and came back to the living room. One of many good things about living in a neighborhood again was having neighbors who liked to garden and share their excess vegetables and fresh tomato juice. She usually preferred not to eat on the furniture, but the dreary day called for it, and Rusty was unconscious and unable to call her out.

She had just gotten The Holiday started when Andy came back in with a drowsy Marie in his arms. She was obsessed with Andy, but she always wanted Sharon when she was sleepy. "Ga," she whimpered, holding her arms out for Sharon.

"Come here, baby." Sharon took her from Andy and patted her back as she nuzzled into her shoulder. Marie lay on Sharon's shoulder for a few minutes, but it didn't take long for her to perk up and look around for Andy.

"It's about time you come see Papa!" Andy picked her up and pulled some of her toys out before getting on the floor with her. He gave the TV a pained look and turned to Sharon. "When's it time for Die Hard?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You and Rusty can watch it while I'm at dinner tonight." She and her closest friends had been doing an earring exchange every Christmas for over thirty years now, and they were going out for dinner for that tonight.

Rusty woke up a little while later and joined Andy and Marie on the floor, and Andy took the opportunity to get back in the recliner with Sharon. The blankets were no longer necessary, but they still curled up together. Rusty hadn't noticed the change in temperature when he got home, but he did now that he was more alert. "I just noticed that it's not ten below in here. Andy, you finally got Mom to cave?"

Andy shook his head. "That would take a power greater than me." He nodded at Marie. "It took the rugrat coming over to save us from freezing to death."

Rusty nodded. "I should've known."

Later that evening, Sharon got ready and slipped into her favorite casual red dress. Or maybe it was her favorite because she liked to tease Andy in it, she couldn't remember. Andy gave her a suffering look as she walked into the kitchen with her clutch. "Putting that dress on and then leaving me isn't good for my blood pressure."

Sharon kissed his cheek. "We'll have to do something about that when I get home," she murmured, wiping off traces of lipstick she left on his cheek.

"Oh, god," Rusty moaned from the bar. "I think I'd rather take another exam than listen to to you guys be disgusting."

Sharon got home a couple of hours later and changed into her pajamas before getting a glass of wine and joining Andy in the living room. He moved over in the recliner so she could sit with him.

"You guys do know that there's other furniture in here," Rusty pointed out, looking disturbed.

Sharon shrugged. "Who needs it?"

"Oh, gross." Rusty scrolled through the guide on the TV. "Ugh, Badge of Justice, no thank you. I'm still not over it."

Andy ran his hand over his face. "Oh, god, here we go."

Sharon sipped her wine. "I'm not, either. Sherry dying would've been tolerable if it made sense and wasn't done as a result of an adult using human life as a bargaining chip and then throwing a fit when he didn't get his way--I know it's fictional," she said, anticipating Andy's thoughts, "but he acted like a child about it."

"Yeah, look at Madam Secretary," Rusty added. "It was canceled, but Mom said that the last season was her favorite. The writers managed to write a great season that the fans would love even though they knew it was canceled. Huff knew he was going to piss everyone off, but he went on and on about how it was the 'season loyal fans deserved and they were going to be happy with it,' and then blamed them for reacting the way they did."

Sharon shrugged. "Well, not every show can have a woman creator, but even the ones that don't should at least be honest and stand by their decisions instead of blaming the network and fans when people rightfully get upset. He flat-out said that no major characters would die after Baylor, so a lot of fans had a false sense of security about Sherry and thought that the dropped hints were just Huff being dramatic."

"I can't believe it's been two years..." Rusty looked at the date on his phone. "Today. I remember because it was my other mom's birthday--damn it, I haven't called her yet."

Once he was out of the room, Sharon wrapped her arms around Andy's neck and lay on his shoulder. "How are you? Still cold?" She asked meaningfully.

Andy nodded. "Frigid."

Sharon got up and offered her hand. "Let's go see what we can do about that."

"Right behind you, commander."

#major crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy #go fuck yourself jd #mikuscfanfiction

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 4 years

Text

Gold Digger - Chapter 1| Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: Sunday, 6:11AM. This dumb bitch realized she never posted the first chapter because it got stuck in her drafts. I’m so sorry.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Maybe some mild swearing?

Word Count: ~1.4K

Prologue

Lizzie and Gwilym had just calmed down from a laughing fit. Still in the cafe, they were so preoccupied with their conversation, they didn’t even realise time was flying by.

“Seriously, clowns?” Gwilym dabbed at the corners of his eyes as he chuckled. “What’s so terrifying about clowns?”

“The make-up, for starters!” Lizzie pointed one finger up in the air. “They’re always chasing kids around with balloons and candy.” Another finger. “They aren’t funny, at all!” Third finger. “They’re usually creepy old men.” Fourth.

“Alright, solid points.” Gwilym smiled and ran a hand through his hair. Lizzie felt her breath hitch for a split second. “How long have we been here?”

“I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Judging by the amount of coffee and food we’ve consumed, though…”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” Gwilym apologised, yet again. “I didn’t mean to keep you from going about your day!”

“You didn’t, I chose to be kept.” She winked and smirked before having a quick look at her watch. “God, we’ve been here for hours!”

“Have we, really?” Gwilym’s face scrunched curiously as he looked at his own watch. “Would you look at that!”

“I have an odd question,” Lizzie said and bit the inside of her cheek. “Feel free to tell me to sod off if I’m out of line, of course.”

“Yes?”

“Do you work?”

“Do I work?” Gwilym parroted. “Yes.”

“So, is this your day off, then?” Lizzie cut a chunk of croissant with her fingers and popped it in her mouth.

“In a way,” Gwilym propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist. “I’m sort of on a hiatus. In-between projects.”

“Right.” Lizzie nodded slowly. “Well, I should get going. I have so much I need to do still -”

“Oh, not a problem!” Gwilym cut her off. “Is it alright if I asked for your number, maybe?”

Lizzie mulled it over.

On the one hand, this man is probably the best looking man she had ever seen, let alone spoken to. On the other, she’s had enough of in between jobs and waiting for my next project type of men. Yet, again, he was so devastatingly handsome.

“Sure.” Lizzie finally said and took Gwilym’s phone to tap in her number. He called her and hung up after two rings.

“Now you have mine, as well.” He grinned.

###

‘I see what you meant about clowns.’

Lizzie opened the text and snorted when she saw the picture attached. It was a T-Rex photoshopped as a clown.

‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, clowns are terrifying!’

She didn’t even put the phone down before it dinged again, notifying a new incoming message is waiting for her.

‘Today was great. I don’t think I’ve ever lost track of time in conversation like that before.’

Lizzie’s thumbs hovered above the screen for a minute while she pondered what her response should be.

‘It was definitely nice :)‘

“Earth to Elizabeth!” her roommate snapped her fingers in front of Lizzie’s face. “Hello? who are you texting all the time?" Shelly almost scared Lizzie out of her skin. "Whoops!"

“Sorry, Shelly,” Lizzie switched the screen off and tossed the phone aside. “You were saying?”

“Answer my question, then!”

"No one." Lizzie smiled sweetly.

"So, a bloke?"

"He's a man, yes." Lizzie tried to sound nonchalant.

"Handsome?"

"So handsome." Lizzie smiled to herself.

"Sharing is caring, Liz." Shelly sauntered over and flopped down on the sofa next to Lizzie. "Get on it with it. Go on."

"His name's Gwilym -"

"What kinda name is that?" Shelly snorted.

"Welsh."

"Right."

"He's about as tall as a tree, he looks like a prince out of a fairy tale."

"How'd you meet?"

"He knocked me on my arse a couple'a'hours ago." Lizzie mumbled.

"He knocked you on your arse?"

"He was jogging, we both weren't looking where we're going and just..." Annie clapped both of her hands. "On my arse."

"Charming."

"Bought me coffee later. Talked for hours at the cafe."

"That's nice." Shelly said. "What's the catch?"

"There's no catch." Lizzie lied.

"There's a catch. You did the thing with your lip. You're lying."

"I think... it's just that... well, he's unemployed..."

"Oh bugger." Shelly groaned. "Another one bites the dust."

### "Hello?"

"Oh, there she is!" Gwilym drawled. "How are you? Been trying to talk to you all day!"

"Yeah, it was hectic." Lizzie blew a strand of hair away from her face. "Work, you know?"

"What happened?"

"The kids got into a huge fight in the yard during recess," Lizzie jumped back as a hoard of kids ran past her. "No running in the halls! Sorry, the kids..."

"School's still going?" Gwilym frowned. "I was hoping you were finished by now!"

"Oh, I am!" Lizzie sighed gratefully. "Just leaving for my car, now. How was your day, Gwil?"

"Good, good!" Gwil smiled to himself. "Met up some mates, had a couple of pints down at the pub..."

"It's not even five o'clock."

"I'm on hiatus and an adult." Gwilym snarked. "Don't judge me."

"Right."

"Would be lovely if you joined me next time I'm at the pub."

"I've got such a hectic week ahead, Gwil."

"Righty-O."

###

Lizzie sat with her legs tucked under her, her sock-clad toes poking out slightly. She typed at the screen furiously, giggling out loud occasionally, totally lost as far as the Netflix series she and Shelly watched. At first Shelly had some things to say about her behaviour. Lizzie could not be pulled away from her phone no matter what.

The only thing that got her to stop texting was when she had to teach class. Other than that - it's like the thing was glued to her hand. It has been going on for three whole days now.

"Liz -" Shelly turned to face her roommate and best friend.

Lizzie jumped and dropped her phone. It landed on the rug with a muffled thud. "-Jesus, didn't mean to scare ya." Shelly stifled a chuckle. "Are you even watching this?"

"What?" Lizzie bent down and picked up her phone. "Yeah, yeah!"

"Did you even listen to my question?" Shelly raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "Liz?"

"Yes! It's just that -"

"Will?"

"Gwil." Lizzie corrected her. "His name is Gwil."

"Right, then." Shelly rolled her eyes. "So are you going out with this bloke or...?"

"What?"

"Is he taking you out on a date or are you just going to text infinitely?" Shelly asked as she got up and went to the kitchen to make herself something to drink.

“Are you serious?"

"About what? Drinking or asking if the lad's gonna take you out?"

"Both!"

"Yes." ### "Gwilym?"

"Yes?" Gwil smirked to himself.

He tidied his place up while talking to Lizzie on the phone. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed phone calls this much. It's like they never ran out of things to talk about. The more they spoke, the more he liked her - and the feeling seemed mutual.

"What is it you do for a living?"

"I'm an actor," Gwilym stated. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lizzie sounded disheartened. "An actor, you say?"

"Indeed."

"What, like, theater? Movies? TV? Commercials?"

"A little bit of everything." Gwilym shrugged and dusted off his coffee table. "Why?"

"Just curious." Lizzie sighed.

"Everything ok?" Gwil asked. "You sound... preoccupied."

"Oh, just thoughts," Lizzie said. "You know how it is. Work, life..."

"Adulting."

"Yeah."

###

Bloop.

Lizzie glanced at her phone as she towel-dried her hair. She's been texting Gwilym almost all day, every day for an entire week. Not that she complained, though. Devastatingly handsome, witty, and intelligent. He was every girl's dream.

But there was that one thing.

For the life of her, she had no idea whatsoever what Gwilym Lee did with his life. He never talked much about work. He said he's "in-between projects," whatever that meant.

'Dinner?'

Lizzie huffed and sat on the edge of her bed, biting her nails. It's not that she didn't want to go to dinner with him.

She most certainly did. But his weirdness around the subject of employment made her feel rather iffy. She's had her fair share of Dead-Beats, as Shelly so fondly called them. Leeches. Roaches. Pests. Men who did absolutely nothing with their lives, yet somehow manipulated Lizzie into being their care-taker. The amount of money she spent on those blokes brought her to the threshold of utterly broke. She knew better this time. This time, she'll listen to her gut.

'Working tomorrow, need a good nights' sleep. Sorry.'

'Everything alright?'

'Yeah, yeah. Why?'

'Not sure. You keep rejecting my invitations to go out...'

'Just a bit stressed out from work. It's fine.'

'Right... Have a splendid night, then. Sweet dreams! x'

###

TAGLIST:

@ramibaby @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #gold digger

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eeveedel · 5 years

Note

so now i’m gonna need a sequel to that previous chubby drabble after harry’s last movie where louis chubs him up again

ask and you shall receive, my friend ;)

sequel to this drabble from last week. this is mostly fluff but be aware this does lead into chubby kink and feeding kink quite a bit, so if that bothers you this may be one to skip

On the night of the LA premiere of the last Sun Knight movie, Harry and Louis snuck out half way through the film.

Harry had watched it ten different times at the various European premieres, and Louis had suffered through it once at the London premiere and that was enough for him. So they downed several glasses of complimentary white wine, and then got an Uber Black home while Louis complained.

“God I love you so much but I’m so happy I don’t have to watch any more of those movies,” Louis groaned as he finally trudged through their bedroom door, “Like…they’re bad, babe.”

“I know, the CG is a little much,” Harry agreed from behind him.

“And the characters, what the fuck are they!” Louis continued, “Like, it’s been three years and I still don’t know what your fucking character’s powers are.”

“He can harness the power of the sun in his magical crystal staff, Louis. It’s very straight forward.”

“But that’s so stupid!” Louis insisted, “And why can he fly?”

“He just can,” Harry said, “Can we go to bed?”

“Yes please,” Louis huffed.

He launched himself onto the bed, then immediately flipped onto his back and spread out his arms and legs wide. Harry chuckled and leaned down to give him a peck on the lips.

“You have to take your suit off, babe.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Louis said, even as he sat up to take off his shoes and pants.

He shucked off his clothes quickly and then went back to sprawling on the bed, this time in just his boxers. Louis watched as Harry stood near the edge of the bed and unlaced his shoes and toed off his loafers. He unbuttoned his shirt next, and then undid his belt to loosen his pants. Louis sat up on his elbows to watch closer, and Harry gave him a smile as he caught Louis’s eyes.

“Thought you were tired,” he teased.

“I am,” Louis said, “Just watching.”

Harry grinned and smiled, and Louis just watched as his husband took off all his clothes. For the last three filming years, Harry had kept up closely with the studio’s expectations for his work out routine, and he was still in great shape, his body sharp and chiseled.

But Louis still missed pre-superhero-movie Harry, in all his chubby glory, and now that the films had wrapped up, he maybe had a shot at getting him back.

Harry got down to his underwear and then joined Louis in bed, crawling under the covers next to him. Louis quickly snuggled into his side, and smiled as Harry wrapped an arm around him.

“Hey, you know,” Louis said slowly, “Your contract is officially up now.”

“Don’t I know it,” Harry sighed, “No more Comic Con, no more press junkets, no more fan boys in my twitter correcting my knowledge of the comics…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Louis said with a wave of his hand, “I’m more excited about this.”

He settled a hand on Harry’s flat stomach and gave it a pat, and Harry gave him a blank look before his eyes sparked.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” Louis smiled, “No more fucking work out regime and no more plain chicken breasts in our fridge.”

“Oh, thank God,” Harry sighed.

“I’m going to start baking again,” Louis cooed, snuggling into Harry’s shoulder, “My husband is finally going to return to me.”

“I’m still your husband.”

“Shh, hush,” Louis said, pressing a finger to Harry’s lips. Harry rolled his eyes and kissed Louis’s fingertip.

“For the past three years you’ve told me you loved me, and you’ve just been bidding your time waiting for me to get chubby again?”

“Um, excuse you, I have loved you for the past three years, as I have every year of our marriage, but for the past three years I have put up with you waking up at 5 in the morning to go to the gym, you doing yoga in our living room every afternoon, and keeping up with whatever keto gluten free plant based nightmare your trainer has put you on that week, so I did my time. I deserve to see you chubby again.”

“Okay, babe,” Harry laughed and kissed the top of Louis’s head, “Let’s get some sleep and then you can make me chubby in the morning.”

“Hell yeah I can,” Louis said, “You lost sixty pounds and I’m going to help you find all of them.”

Harry snorted and waved his hand.

“Go to sleep, angel.”

“I think I’m losing my abs.”

It was a Tuesday morning and Harry was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, shirtless, eating a bowl of Coco pops. Louis was still half-asleep, and was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He tucked a hand under his glasses and rubbed at his blurry eyes, not taking his gaze off his phone.

“What makes you say that?” he asked sleepily, like he hadn’t taken very careful inventory of Harry’s body every day for the past month.

“I just am,” Harry said. Louis glanced up to see his husband shrug and eat another spoonful of his cereal.

Over the past several weeks, Harry had enjoyed an extended vacation from script readings and auditions and just focused on being at home and indulging in a few of his random, off-duty hobbies. Recently he had taken origami back up again, and Louis kept finding colorful paper frogs of varying sizes all over the house.

And Harry had been eating. A lot.

Harry was true to his word that he was going to start cooking and baking again once Harry was off his strict work outs and diets. Harry still went to the gym every now and again, but it wasn’t every day, and his work outs were far shorter now. And Louis had accumulated three years’ worth of recipes he wanted to try, so he always had something new in the oven for Harry to try. He had forgotten how much he had missed the simple joys of Harry wrapping his arms around him and stealing a cookie or brownie off the plate Harry had pulled out of the oven, and then how he kissed Louis on the cheek right after he shoved it into his mouth, complimenting Louis endlessly.

He was still pretty lean, to Louis’s annoyance, but he was a bit softer now. His stomach was flat, still, but it was soft. If Harry sucked in, like he was doing on and off now, the outline of his muscles was still clear, but there was a definite layer of softness dusted over it. It was there all over his body; on his hips, his thighs, his arms, his face.

He could still work it all off in a few weeks if he wanted to, and the thought made Louis’s stomach swoop a little bit. He wasn’t sure what kind of body his husband wanted any more.

“Does that bother you?” Louis asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“You know, I feel like it should bother me way more,” Harry said. He turned away from the mirror and then went to sit on the bed, folding his legs as he looked at Louis and ate his cereal.

“What are you going to try to make for lunch?” Harry asked, even though he was still plowing through his breakfast.

“Um,” Louis said, not missing the glint in Harry’s eyes, “Shrimp scampi?”

“Mm, sounds good,” Harry hummed, “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, and let his stupid, stupid eyes flick down to where Harry’s stomach was just barely starting to fold and crease over the top of his boxers, “Me neither.”

Louis was standing at a hot stove on a summer afternoon, trying to wipe his forehead with his arm as he cooked up the latest series of recipes he wanted to make. He was nearly down, but the effort he was putting in made him feel like he was losing it. The only thing that pulled him out of his own stress was the sound of the screen door sliding open. Louis heard the sound of flip flops smacking on the floor a second later.

“Are you dripping water on my floor?” he called, and he heard Harry snort.

“You haven’t cleaned this house by yourself in six years,” Harry called.

“Doesn’t answer my question, smart ass.”

“Only a little water, honey.”

Louis groaned a bit too loudly, and a few seconds later he heard louder footsteps, and then felt a big body hugging him from behind and kissing him on the cheek.

“Smells good,” Harry said, and planted another firm kiss on Louis’s neck. Louis squirmed but grinned, and then when he felt Harry move away, he turned around to take Harry in.

He had been in the pool for hours, and he looked pink from the sun and drenched, his dark hair wet and flat against his head and temples. He had his hands on his hips, and he was wearing one of his older swimsuits, dark purple and patterned with turtles. His thick thighs filled out the trunks well, clinging to him tightly due to the water. His love handles spilled over the edges, and his big belly pooled proudly over the waistband.

In the past few weeks, Louis had finally felt like he had gotten his husband back.

Harry was now only within a few pounds of what he had been before his grueling training started three years ago, and Louis nearly wanted to cry every time he looked at him. He was just so handsome, so sexy, so Louis’s Harry. Not the man that was on horrifically photoshopped block buster posters and was Twitter’s thirst crush of the week every other month, but the man he had met at a shitty acting class years ago and whose bed he had fallen into immediately after that class.

And Harry had been on board for everything. He was tired of the diets that left him hungry and the work outs that always put him in knee braces or on the couch icing his back. He wasn’t exactly chasing another block buster any time soon, so he was content to return to his old habits and enjoy himself again.

He was also perfectly aware of how Louis felt about his body, which didn’t hurt. He always made a big deal of telling Louis when he started having trouble buttoning his jeans, and then his button downs, and then when he needed to dig out his old clothes from years ago. And from often he grinned and winked at Louis when he was eating, the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“What’d you make me?” Harry asked, and Louis had to shake his head to make his thoughts somewhat proper again.

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Louis said, “I made the meatballs myself, and the sauce. And garlic bread! Lots of garlic bread. And cinnamon rolls with honey and almonds!”

He tilted his head, frowning.

“Also I have a salad in the fridge but that’s boring.”

“That sounds great, babe,” Harry said, “Let me go rinse off and then I’ll be down, okay?”

Louis nodded, and Harry went off upstairs. Louis went back to the food, and pulled everything out. He got out plates, serving dishes, a couple cold beers from the fridge. He made several trips putting it all on the table, and by the time he was done Harry had come back downstairs, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Can’t we just eat on the couch?” he asked when he saw Louis setting everything up.

“Fuck off, do you know how much we paid for this table?” Louis scoffed, “Sit down, we’re having a real sit down lunch like adults.”

Harry just chuckled and tipped his head.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles.”

Louis scrunched his nose and then sat down with Harry, filling up his own plate while he watched Harry take things for his own. He served up a full plate of spaghetti, and then two small separate plates for his garlic bread and cinnamon rolls. He still had a small dish of salad, but Louis could forgive him for that.

Louis was still staring when Harry started twirling his fork through his pasta, and Harry lifted a brow at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Can I…” Louis said cautiously, “Can I feed you?”

Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling and his padded cheeks folding up.

“Sure, baby.”

Louis smiled and scooted his chair forward. He took the fork from Harry and lifted it up, and Harry opened his mouth for Louis to tuck the pasta and meatballs inside. He hummed when his mouth was closed, nodding.

“S’good, baby. Really good,” Harry said, “I like what you did to the sauce.”

“Yeah, it’s fresh basil,” Louis said absentmindedly, already loading up another forkful for Harry.

He loved doing this, whenever Harry let him. He just wanted to take care of Harry, and know that Harry loved what he had made, and if Harry overindulged a bit more when Louis was physically putting food into his mouth, that helped, too.

Louis fed Harry his pasta, and then a bit of salad, and then the bread. He was ignoring his own food, but he didn’t even care. Harry so willingly ate what Louis had prepared him and swallowed down every bite with a smile on his face, moaning and smacking his lips. If anyone else did that while they were eating Louis would lose it, but with Harry…God, he already felt his belly heating up.

Louis fed Harry two of the cinnamon rolls he had made, and then delicately helped Harry wipe his mouth with a napkin when Harry waved his hand, officially tapping out. Harry slouched on his chair and patted his belly, making a loud smacking noise as he did so.

“Christ, baby, I feel like I’m gonna burst,” he moaned, “You outdid yourself.”

Harry rubbed his belly, rucking up his shirt to reveal more of his soft, pale skin, and Louis could just stand and stare, his throat going dry.

“What are you thinking?” Harry asked, and Louis blurted it out before he could think it through.

“I did this,” Louis said, and then poked at Harry’s belly, “I did this to you.”

Harry hummed, looking at Louis with sparkling eyes.

“You sure did,” Harry said, his smile growing.

Harry smacked his belly again, and Louis gripped the table hard.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” Harry continued, “I know you like a belly. And it helps you know your way around a kitchen.”

“I really, really missed you,” Louis blurted, and Harry lifted a brow.

“I’ve been right here.”

“I missed this you,” Louis said.

Harry lifted a brow.

“Someone’s letting their kink flag fly tonight,” Harry teased.

“You love my kink,” Louis insisted.

“I do,” Harry smiled.

Harry looked down, rubbing his belly again, and he tilted his head.

“You know, I’m just about to my old weight, but,” Harry shrugged, “I don’t think an extra ten pounds can hurt, don’t you think?”

Louis leaned forward, gripping the table so hard his knuckles went white.

“I’m going to ride you so fucking hard after this your dick will fall off.”

Harry chuckled, his smile still wide and bright.

“Why don’t you finish your lunch, first,” Harry said, “And I’m going you to give me a little rub down after this. I seriously feel like I’m gonna pop.”

“Shut your whore mouth,” Louis snapped, and then scooted his chair back, begrudgingly picking up his fork to dig into his now-cold pasta. Harry just laughed again, and Louis rolled his eyes as he ate food he longer wanted.

His husband was officially back; he didn’t have reason to be interested in much else.

#larry fanfic #larry fanfiction #drabbles #chubby 1d #Anonymous #ask

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pixieungerstories · 5 years

Text

Darkness - 10

Brie was almost done with her shower when she noticed the weird scar on her ass was gone. She finished up and looked in the mirror. It was really gone. No red skin, no raised area, no sign that she had been cut badly enough to need stitches.

That was…. Weird. It was inexplicable, really. She hadn’t done any kind of scar care or anything. How could it have… No. No. That was ridiculous. Except now she needed to know. The key was under the door mat as Mr Lynn had promised. Brie knocked hesitantly. This should wait until morning. Her dorky little flash light aside, hadn’t every horror movie she had ever seen taught her to never go into the creepy house alone? Especially after dark. She knocked again and waited. Nothing. This was completely ridiculous. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Mr Herne?” she called. There was no answer. She turned on the flash light and looked for a light switch. She couldn’t find one. On the floor were her foot prints in the dust, headed up the stairs when Mr Lynn had brought her to visit. Only her foot prints, not his. Headed to the left were … she didn’t want to say hoof prints, but the marks of something walking the way the monster had taken her. She should just leave. “Mr Herne?” She followed her foot prints up to the sitting room where she had waited. She knocked on the pocket doors, not really certain what she would say if there was an answer. There wasn’t. She carefully pushed them open. Inside was a library full of old books. Legal books, several sets of encyclopedia, books on gardening and mushroom and she was avoiding looking too closely at the entire wall that seemed to be in latin. With one outlier. A green cloth cover with a single word title, Darkness. She plucked that one off the shelf. There were some sort of mystic circles etched on the front cover and when she opened it, the writing seemed to swim before her eyes, as though it was fighting not to be read. She flipped ahead and found a picture. Of her nightmare demon. “What are you doing here?” Brie jumped, screamed a little, dropped the book and spun around to find Mr Herne standing there in a black pair of pyjama pants. “I… I’m sorry!’ she blurted out and tried to run past him to leave. He caught her easily, “Why are you here, Ms Moreno?” She struggled back and away from him. “I didn’t come to steal!” she felt it was important to get that out, then realized how guilty it made her sound. He was watching her. “I never suggested you were. Why are you here?” Brie tried to explain, “Yesterday…. I had a nightmare about the house and … oh god!” Mr Herne flinched. “It… seemed so real. I just needed to see…” She trailed off uncertain how to continue. “And was it?” he asked, sounding curious. Brie felt completely ridiculous. She wanted to say, no, of course it wasn’t real. Except she couldn’t. After a few moments, Mr Herne sighed, “C’mon. I’ll make us a cup of tea.” As he turned, she could see where his back was covered in scars. Stripes that looked like he had been whipped, a burn mark over one hip, and two deep gouges, one on each side of his spine. Brie followed him to an old but functional kitchen and watched as he made a pot of camomile tea. He took a sip, made a face and got out a squeeze bottle of honey shaped like a bear. It was completely out of place in the kitchen. He offered it to her. She shook her head. He shrugged and set it on the counter. He took a long drink of his tea then set the cup on the saucer and said, “Everyone has bad dreams, Brie. Not everyone breaks into someone else’s house in the middle of the night.” Her head hurt. She was looking at Mr Herne, and something was wrong. It took her a moment to realize that the kitchen behind him was distorted like bad photoshop behind him. She looked away. The rest of the kitchen was fine. She looked back. His form sucked at her eyes, but as she tried to concentrate on the space behind him it looked… smushed. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face, then panicked and snapped her eyes open. The monster had told her something. She hadn’t been paying attention. Something about his name. “How tall are you Marbus Herne?” “Nine feet, approximately, plus a couple of feet of horns,” he replied promptly. Then stiffened as though he hadn’t meant to say that. Brie felt her already rapid heart rate jump even further. She was struggling to breath. This was wrong. It wasn’t possible it was- The world went very white. “Ms Moreno? Brie?” The world went dark.Darkness was pacing, his tail swishing angrily. He had the girl in his bed, but this was not how he had imagined getting her there. Calling Lynn had been no help. His advice was to dump her in the garden and pretend this never happened. That wasn’t going to happen. What if she died from exposure? Who would do the weeding and cook his supper? Honestly, the goblin needed to get his priorities right. OK, so it was still late summer and it didn’t get that cold at night, but the grass was wet and what if she got sick? What if she woke up scared and couldn’t get back to her cottage in the dark? What if she tripped in a rabbit hole and broke her leg? Fuck, he missed being able to blaspheme. He needed a higher power to curse right now. How had he ended up in this mess? See! This is why the damned fell back on wailing and gnashing of teeth! Sheer bloodly frustration at the injustice of the universe and - Oh, shit. Was she awake? “Brie?” “What are you?” A lie would be the easiest thing, but he had given her his true name. “I was a forest god more than a thousand years ago. I am the guardian of The Great Tree. Now I am a refugee from days gone by.” “What happened to your back?” “Witch hunters. Demonologists. A very long time ago. I was bound to the property and can not leave. I spoke the truth about living in a refugee camp. It is just that I am still here.” “You look like a human sometimes.” “Sometimes,” Darkness agreed. “It takes energy to hide. It doesn’t work perfectly.” “Have you been haunting me?” Darkness considered his words carefully, “I have been guarding you since the attack. Talking to you in your sleep was a way to make sure you were safe.” “You tried to kill the man who attacked me.” “No,” he assured her. “If I wanted him dead, he would be. I wanted him to stop and never do that again to you or anyone else.” Brie blanched and tried to sit up, the room swam around her. “When was the last time you ate?” “I had… no, you came for me before I ate breakfast. Then I was going to make toast but burned my hand instead. I guess it was the picnic last night.” Brie admitted. “That was only half a sandwich - ” “I was out of chocolate,” Brie snapped. Then she hesitated, “Did you carve a symbol on my… back side?” Brie interrupted. “Only, it isn’t there anymore.” Darkness rocked back on his heels, “It was my true name. It was an indication that you are under my protection. Lynn convinced me you wouldn’t appreciate it, so I healed the scar and took back my mark.” “Isn’t that a bit like branding cattle?” Darkness shook his head. “It was never like that. It is an honour to wear the mark of a god. Or at least it used to be. How did you burn your hand?” Brie flopped back down and stared up at the ceiling. It had a mural. It was of an orgy. Of course it was. “How is this my life?” she asked no one in particular. “Just lucky I guess.” That was the final straw, Brie burst out laughing. She covered her face with her hands and laughed, then cried then got up to leave and was hit with another wave of lightheadedness. She managed to stay sitting up but had to ask, “Is this you?” “This is not having eaten in more than twenty four hours.” He watched her for a moment. “I can send someone to fetch food from your cottage if you would allow it.” Brie shook her head. “I just need to get home.” “Did you find what you were looking for when you came here?” “I… I don’t know. I never see you when I am a reliable witness.” Darkness considered this. He nodded to the goblin in the corner of the room, “Bring us a plate of fruit from the garden and a bottle of good wine from the cellar.” Brie closed her eyes as the room started to spin. She opened them again when a plate bumped against her arm. The room was lit by candles, the fruit was all things she recognized. She tried a raspberry. It was perfect. “Why no electric lights?” Darkness snorted, it was a very impressive snort. “Have you ever heard of knob and tube wiring?” While she was eating her fruit, Darkness stabbed one claw into the cork of the wine bottle and pulled it free. He poured two crystal glasses and held one out to her. Brie shook her head, “Sorry, but I am a lot more careful about what I drink these days.” Darkness cocked his head, “It would have been easier to poison the fruit.” Brie froze. “I would not. I enjoy having you around too much to harm you or drive you off.” Brie pulled a red apple slice off the plate and held it out for him. He did not take it with his fingers but rather leaned in and sucked it from her fingers. Brie shivered. “Are you always this… way?” Darkness considered this as he chewed, “It has been a long time since there were humans in this house.” He tactfully stopped before adding other than the occasional trespasser, but free lunch doesn’t really count. Brie hesitantly went back to eating. Darkness tried again, “Tomorrow, there will be food for you here.” Brie coughed, “What? Did you put on human skin and go grocery shopping?” Darkness managed to look hurt, “No! I went online shopping. It will be delivered tomorrow.” Brie considered this, “That raises so many questions. Like how does an ancient demon - um… elder god know what the internet is?” Darkness laughed, “A hedonist utopia primarily used for the distribution of pornography? Who do you think invented that?” Brie considered this, “A science boy with no chance of getting girls in real life.” Darkness nodded, “Alight, that is true. But my kind assisted in the mass marketing and distribution.” Brie finished chewing her apricot, “My next question should be fairly obvious. How do you get internet without electricity?’ Darkness just shrugged. Brie frowned, “You are going to say magic aren’t you?” Darkness considered this, then once again went with honesty. “I contact Goblynn and he arranges it for me. And if you are done eating, I am taking you for a bath. Collapsing onto a dusty carpet isn’t the best idea.” “I should just go back to my cottage.” Darkness took a step back and waited. Brie watched him for a moment, “I don’t understand you.” “What is not to understand? I have done nothing with the intent to harm you.” “Yeah. That’s what I don’t understand.” Darkness said nothing, but offered her one of the wine glasses. This time, Brie took it.

----

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#darkness #demon #demon boyfriend #monster #monster boyfriend #terato #exophilia

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cuteandtwisted · 6 years

Note

this prompt from awful-aus “You hired me to photograph your sister’s wedding and you need to leave me alone now so I can do my job. Just because you technically literally invited me does not make me “”ipso facto’” your date and I can’t take pictures when you’re using my tripod to help yourself stand upright.” AU 💛

(i’m gonna add rich!Isak to this one, which is VERY AU, I realize)

The first time Even touches him is by accident.

Even is a good person. He does his best to be kind to everyone he meets and to never judge a soul, and he’s mostly good at it. Well, except maybe when it comes to uptight, prickly, and arrogant Isak Valtersen. But Even has his reasons. He really does.

Many have tried to get to the bottom of Even’s dislike for the ‘cute rich boy’, some thinking that it’s a longterm rivalry or that perhaps Isak accidentally killed his puppy—anything extreme enough to warrant such strong negative feelings from the ‘chillest person on campus’. And they’re mostly right. It is out of character for him. Even has no reason to dislike ‘rich people’.

But Isak is more than that. Isak holds some pretty bigoted and insensitive opinions on the refugee crisis, too blinded by his own privilege. And while most people would let it slide, Even refuses to turn a blind eye, especially after Isak literally got into a fight with Mikael (that he had to physically break) and implied he wasn’t 100% Norwegian—and no, the fact that he actually had a tiny crush on Isak his first week at uni before any of this went down won’t change that.

“Dude, that was like two years ago,” Mikael sighs when he catches Even glaring at Isak in the cafeteria again. “Get over it.”

“It was last year,” Even corrects him, still holding Isak’s gaze across the large room. He feels ridiculous and mean, but Isak—in his dress shirts and cashmere sweaters—has been doing this a lot lately, provoking him and randomly stealing glances before looking down. Is he trying to start shit again or what.

“Give him a break. He’s a chill guy,” Mikael yawns before stuffing fries into his face again. “I know he looks like his mom dresses him every day, but he even apologized to me and stuff. He didn’t mean it like that.”

“You shouldn’t internalize micro-aggressions, Mikael. If he hurt you, then you should face it and confront him!”

“I can’t stand you, bro. Are you listening to yourself? He’s harmless!”

“How do you explain him glaring at me all the time then?”

“It’s called staring, Even. He’s like in love with you!” Mikael rolls his eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

Even is doodling in his sketchbook when Isak Valtersen materializes in front of him in the library, making him instantly draw his brows together.

“Uh hello,” Isak clears his throat and Even loses his resolve for a second because the younger boy sounds nervous and looks incredibly uncomfortable in his v-neck cashmere sweater.

“Uhm hi.”

“So, uh. I heard you do photography, and I was wondering if you want to work on my sister’s wedding.”

Even blinks at him, his mouth gaping a bit. He doesn’t mean to but he stares hard enough to notice a delicate flush spread along Isak’s cheeks all the way to the tip of his ears. His eyelashes are ridiculously long and he’s rambling. It’s almost adorable.

“Uh, I mean I know it’s last minute. But I messed up booking a photographer and it was the only thing she tasked me with. And now she doesn’t have one and she’ll kill me, and obviously I’ll pay you a lot of money to make up for the short notice, and—”

“I don’t need your money,” Even says and he sounds mean. He regrets it immediately because Isak is blushing furiously now and he looks like he’s about to combust from humiliation, like it’s taken all of his courage to come ask Even. “I mean you don’t need to offer me a lot of money,” Even sits up and speaks softly. “I don’t care about money.”

fuck.

Now Even is nervous and he doesn’t even know why. He doesn’t even like the guy, but some nonsensical instinct to just take care of him takes over. And Even hates how he has no resolve whatsoever, how all it takes is a pretty boy with long eyelashes to move him.

“Are you available this Sunday?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Promise?” Isak asks with big round eyes, and Even is both puzzled and endeared by the word and by how earnest he sounds uttering it, like he holds promises sacred.

“Promise.”

“What the hell?” Mikael laughs. “That was fast.”

“Shit. I don’t know. He looked like he really needed me, okay?”

The second time Even touches him is not that much of an accident.

It’s a mess, really. Even has no idea why he said yes or how Isak got his phone number. But he’s been texting him nonstop about equipment and tripods and camera models for a week now. And while Even has his own gear, he can’t turn down the opportunity to shoot with the real expensive stuff. Isak’s family can afford it after all, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

Even is overwhelmed by just how much money Isak ends up spending on the rather simple job. He’s almost bouncing with excitement as he shows him what he got, and Even secretly hopes Isak has rented and not bought all of this.

Even is enjoying the wedding reception and the job itself despite the collar of his shirt digging into his skin and his hair refusing to stick to one direction. But he thinks he would enjoy the job more if Isak Valtersen actually gave him some space. No, really, the kid has barely left his side, only walking away to grab himself yet another drink from the bar then almost running to glue himself back to Even’s hip. He also insists on looking at every shot right after Even takes it, and he’s even directing him now.

“Can you go closer? Can you take a picture of her side profile? I think the light is better over there. No, not the groom, fuck that guy. Can you focus on her hair? She’s proud of her updo. Can you do effects or something? Oh, that’s post-processing? What’s post-processing? Photoshop? Oh, is that expensive? Do you want me to pay for it? Oh you have an illegal copy? Can you get arrested for that? Can you get a picture of all her friends? Can I see? Wait, go back three pictures.”

Even’s skin is crawling an hour in because not only is Isak not letting him do his job, but he’s currently leaning on the very expensive tripod to keep himself from falling over, not to mention that his cheeks are flushed and his curls are a mess and he’s giggling and Even wants to touch.

Shit. Control yourself.

“Do you want a drink?” Isak asks and Even has to let go of the camera to hold him because Isak is tripping over his own feet and slurring his words and why is this kid so drunk on his sister’s wedding and why is he here with me instead of with his family.

“I don’t drink on the job,” says Even as he hooks an arm around Isak’s waist to support him and tries to will away the excitement building up at the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t mind,” says Isak, turning his face to him until all Even can see are his long eyelashes and his incredibly sad and heartbreaking eyes. “I can pay you now if you want. You took enough pictures. I don’t mind.”

Isak might look small but he isn’t, and Even is learning it the hard way right now with Isak leaning almost fully against him as he drags him away and tries to find someone to take over. A man in a fancy suit and a strong build finds him before he loses it—thank god—and sighs heavily.

“Always an embarrassment, this one,” the man breathes in disapproval, and for some reason, Even frowns and tightens his hold around Isak’s passed out body. “A friend of Isak’s?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Even lies.

“How surprising. Didn’t think anyone actually liked him.” Even is glaring at the man now and before he can bark, he hears. “I’m Terje, his father.” The man then hands him keys and shrugs, “Here, take my car before anyone sees him like this. The address to the house is in the GPS. Make sure he doesn’t throw up on my seats.”

And with that he’s gone.

Isak falls asleep against the window and Even has to bite down his own lower lip to bear the sound of Isak’s head bumping against the glass. He can’t stand it, however, and he eventually slows down and makes sure to drive as gently as possible.

It gets even worse because when they stop at a red light, Even reaches for Isak’s head and pulls it towards his own shoulder and eventually his chest. It’s extremely uncomfortable, but at least Isak is no longer hurting himself. Though when the younger boy curls into his side and purrs in his sleep, Even has to take a deep breath because the stirring in his chest almost makes him drive into the sidewalk.

“Where are we? What are you doing?” Isak blinks in confusion when they cross the threshold. The house is enormous, and a warm woman greets them at the door and takes Isak’s coat and Even’s as well. She then guides him to Isak’s room which is upstairs.

“You’re home. It’s fine,” Even reassures him as he pulls him up the steps. He drops Isak into what he assumes is his bed and sits beside him to catch his breath.

“I ruined the wedding. I’m such a disappointment,” Isak sighs in defeat, an arm crossed over his face to cover his eyes. “I ruin everything.”

Even knows he should leave. He’s done more than enough and he doesn’t owe this boy anything, really. But the words resonate with him. The shame, the disappointment, the loneliness. It all sounds like something straight out of Even’s mouth.

So he lies back down next to Isak.

“You did great today, Isak. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. You were wonderful today. Your sister was very happy.”

Isak removes his arm from where it’s lying on his face and looks at Even through wet eyelashes with something like gratitude in his eyes.

“I’m not racist, Even. I swear,” Isak mumbles in a small voice while Even stares at him, all limbs and curls on his massive bed. “I thought your friend was being homophobic to me last year and I said the dumbest thing. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hate me. Everybody hates me.”

Even must be the weakest person in the world because he’s undeniably moved by the plea in this boy’s voice. He’s so moved that he reaches over and lets his right hand thumb Isak’s cheek as gently as possible. He can’t help it, providing comfort when he can. And the way Isak’s eyes flutter shut almost instantly at the contact, nuzzling against his palm like he can’t help it, like he needs it, like he’s never been touched quite like this, makes Even’s protective instincts nearly soar in his chest, his heart filling with something resembling tenderness.

“I don’t hate you,” Even says and it’s true.

“Promise?”

And there it is, the ever slight fluttering in his heart.

“Promise,” says Even.

“Can you stay tonight?”

Even stays the night. Then when he wakes up in Isak’s massive bed with his chest pressed against the boy’s back and his arms locked around his stomach like they belong in the other’s embrace, he jumps in absolute panic and shows himself out in his clothes from the previous day.

Isak texts him ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ in the afternoon and Even isn’t sure what to do, so he doesn’t reply.

Later at night, he gets a few more texts. ‘I’m sorry I was so weird last night. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d like to be friends if you want.’

‘It’s also okay if you don’t. I understand.’

Isak finds him at the school cafeteria with the boys on Tuesday and hands him a sealed envelope without looking him in the eye.

“For Sunday. Thanks a lot Even, I owe you one,” he says with a brave but distant smile then nods in Mikael’s direction. “Hello guys,” he adds politely before turning on his heel.

It’s money, the ‘lots of money’ that Isak promised him. And Even feels terrible.

Even sees him everywhere and it scares him how much he wants to go to him, talk to him, touch him, hold him, ask him if he’s okay, double-check if he still asks ‘promise?’ when Even says something nice.

It scares him how much he cares for this boy he knows so little about. It terrifies him.

Maybe it’s my brain playing tricks on me again. Maybe.

Even pines from afar.

“I heard Isak got a second job at the coffee shop where we hang out,” says Elias while they’re working on a ‘Hei Briskeby’ edit. “Apparently he’s in bad terms with his dad and he has to work for his own money. I had no idea it was bad between them. Did you know?”

Even groans into a pillow and spends the rest of his day thinking about appropriate ways to text Isak.

“Hey,” Even clears his throat then has to stop himself from gasping when Isak looks up from his book in the library.

“Uh hi,” says Isak and he’s blushing again and Even suddenly remembers how it felt like to hold him in that bed. “Even. Oh, hi!”

He’s adorable and Even just smiles because he can’t help it and because he’s been nothing but mean to this boy, yet he’s glowing and smiling and blushing right now like he’s happy to see him.

Even takes a deep breath then slides the envelope along the desk. Isak blinks, confused.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” Even smiles this time around then watches him squirm.

“But—“ Isak pauses, bites his lip. “You worked for hours.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“But it was. And you even did the post-processing stuff and you listened to me whine about everything, and you drove me home, and you took me to my room, and—” he pauses again.

“And I cuddled you until morning,” Even continues for him, letting himself fall on the chair opposite of Isak.

Their eyes meet and he can see how embarrassed but hopeful Isak is, how scared but willing to take a leap of faith. He can see it, how badly he wants this, needs this, aches for this, whatever this is. And who is he to crush this boy’s hopes? Who is he to turn Isak down when everything in him is urging him to just show him how loved he can be, how precious he can feel?

“Let’s consider the cuddles payment for my services,” Even adds.

“But— you left.”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

There’s a pregnant pause after that. Isak takes a deep breath then finally speaks. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

Oh babe.

“I want you,” says Even, almost immediately too. Because he feels like Isak needs to hear it, because he feels like he’s not the kind of person to thrive on subtle actions and assume and wish for the best. Because he feels like Isak needs that validation, that undeniable and unwavering confirmation that he is in fact wanted. Isak who insists on double-checking every nice thing that’s ever said to him by seriously asking ‘promise?’ like he’s used to people deceiving him and not doing good by him. Isak who seems like he doesn’t get to hear these three words nearly enough. Isak who stole his heart on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Isak. So Even says it, again and again. “I want you.”

Isak smiles and it’s precious, like a treasure. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

The third time Even touches him, it’s because he’s aching to.

#skam #isak x even #skam fics #skam drabble #prompt #ask #<3 #long post

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 6 years

Text

Need the Sun to Break

Here’s part III of the Chaos and the Calm series! I’m absolutely falling in love with Harry and Alex, and I hope you are too. Please come in and talk to me about it, and ideas, predictions, feedback you might have- I don’t bite and I love hearing from you all!

Need the Sun to Break

October 2018

Back of the room/How come my friends already know you?/I feel like a kid/Too shy to speak up so I keep it hid

Harry’s eyes darted across the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex. She had arrived at his house a few hours prior, but they hadn’t been together for a bit. Nobody really knew they were dating yet; things were so early that they had decided to hold off on announcing things for a little while. That being said, Harry wasn’t so confident he wouldn’t let things slip accidentally if someone asked him. He was so proud and excited to finally be able to call her his, but he respected that she wanted to take things slow. He had told her that things were going to move at her pace, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. So naturally, he was thrilled to see Alex engaged in what seemed like a fascinating conversation with Clare. It was the first time they had met— Clare was usually back home in Britain— but the two were already acting like old friends, and for that Harry was eternally grateful. When hearing that she and a few of his friends that worked at the label were in New York for some event or another— he thinks he heard something about a Beyoncé concert— he had jumped at the chance to host them at his house. He had been a bit apprehensive about inviting Alex over, not really for any other reason other than the fact that she wasn’t going to know too many of the attendees. She knew Julia, obviously, and by extension Matt, but other than the two of them, she was kind of at a loss for people to talk to.

Seeing her get along with his friends was endlessly relieving for Harry. Seeing Alex slightly tipsy with his friends, spilling part of her drink on herself then laughing while mopping it up only made him fall for her more. When she got up to go get a napkin to sop up her dress, he followed her into his kitchen. Smirking slightly, Harry leaned against the entryway for a moment while he watched her open and close no less than six drawers in her quest for a napkin, or a paper towel, or what, Harry wasn’t entirely sure.

“Where is that blasted towel…” Alex muttered, turning around and spotting Harry.

He walked over to the oven, where a towel hung on the door handle. “Looking for one of these, love?”

Alex shot him a nasty look, plucking the towel out from his hand, walking over to the sink, and running part of it under some water before blotting her dress. Harry had always loved green on her, said it brought out her eyes. “Y’know, Alex, you were drinking Chardonnay. I don’t think it’ll stain too bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I figured. Better safe than sorry though, you know? Wouldn’t want to wake up tomorrow and find a massive stain on it.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m glad to see you’re getting on so well with my friends.” He added, holding one of her hands gently in his.

“Clare’s an angel.” Alex blushed. “It’d practically be a sin to not like her.”

I need the sun to break/You've woken up my heart/I'm shaking, oh/My luck could change

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not wrong there.” As Alex leaned up against the bar, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, Harry realized just how much his life had changed in the past month. He was falling for her even more than he thought possible, and it terrified him. He had never felt the way he felt about Alex with anyone else, and he had never let anyone in the same way he longed to let her in. Seeing her so completely at ease, talking to his friends that were becoming hers, with her hair up in high ponytail and barely a trace of makeup on her face, gave him pause. Made him think of how long he had wanted her to be his. Made him remember the night he realized he had fallen in love with her.

...

The £3 bottle of rosé long since drank and the sun long since set, Harry turned over on the old quilt to look at Alex. She was in that strange liminal stage of sleep; he wasn’t sure she’d hear him if he talked to her, but didn’t want to take chances. They had fallen asleep in the meadow like so many times before, from the time they were kids and their parents would frantically search for their whereabouts to the night before he left for the X-Factor to now, both of them 22 years old with their entire lives ahead of them. What would our 10-year-old selves think, Harry mused, if they could see where we were now? After a few moments of pondering, Harry didn’t think that their younger selves would actually be all that surprised. Him, maybe. But Alex had always had nothing but complete and utter faith in him and his music, and he always knew that her designs would take her as far as she wanted to go, even when they were sixteen and she was photoshopping his face onto Justin Timberlake’s body. She was just about to start a job at a new firm in London, and he was leaving the next afternoon— this afternoon, Harry thought with a grimace — to America to begin writing for his solo album.

The two of them had fallen asleep sometime a little past one o’clock, and Harry noted with a cursory glance at his watch that it was nearing five. Alex looked so peaceful on the blanket, and Harry had to stop himself from tucking a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. It hit him like a ton of bricks right as the sun peeked over the horizon, and Harry knew that he was well and truly fucked. He realized that he was in love with his best friend as the light hit her face just right,. He had never known that her hair looked so red in the sunlight. Then again, he had never known that he was in love with his best friend until a few moments ago. His breath caught in his throat. Shit.

...

Been in the dark for weeks and I've realized you're all I need/I hope that I'm not too late

Ever since Alex had come back into his life, she had turned his world upside-down. He had stopped himself from telling her how he felt countless times, fearing the worst possible reaction. And God, had it been hard. So it was incredibly paradoxical that now that Alex was finally his, his was more terrified than ever about his feelings. Alex knew that he cared about her; he hoped that much was obvious. What she might not have known was just how deeply he fallen in love with her. He hadn’t said it yet, and it was eating him alive. He was committed to what he promised her, however, and wasn’t going to move anything forward until she was ready. As he leaned up against the counter, holding a still-empty tumbler that once upon a time had held a scotch straight, he realized a simple truth. Something had brought them together that May night, in the exact time and place and space where they needed to be. Whether that was God, the universe, whatever, Harry didn’t know. What he did know was that it no longer mattered that he had been pining for her, and that she didn’t know just how deeply his feelings ran. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that held any kind of significance for him as far as Alex or anything else was concerned, was that they were together. They were together, and they were happy, and how fast or slow their relationship went was all for naught as long as that remained true.

Interrupting his thoughts, Clare came over to wish the two good night, leaving Alex with a tight hug, a new contact in her phone, and a promise to meet for coffee later in the week. After she left, the two moved to a slightly more quiet and secluded spot, settling on a pair of plump chaises in an alcove off of the main living room.

“Did you get the chance to talk to anyone else?” Harry asked. Clare was wonderful, but the last thing Harry wanted was for her to be stuck feeling isolated from the group with only one or two friends that she could rely on.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I had a pretty… animated conversation with Ella and James a few hours ago,” she said carefully, giving a small smile. “Took the mick out of me for being a Liverpool supporter, but they’re alright other than that. Got to talk to Lia before she left, think she said there’s an early meeting she’s got to be at tomorrow.” Taking a peek out of their small refuge, Harry noticed that the number of guests had indeed started to dwindle.

The party was winding down, guests had been tricking out for the last twenty or so minutes, and somewhere in the midst of his conversation with Alex the playlist had been switched from classic rock to nothing but Abba— not that he was complaining.

“I should probably get going,” Alex murmured in his ear, timidly squeezing his hand with a gentle smile. “It’s a Sunday and I have to be at work by eight.”

Harry nodded. “‘F course, love. Stay safe, text me when you get back, okay?” Alex lived nearly an hour’s subway ride away, and Harry had never been too fond of her having to travel so far, particularly so late at night. Her apartment building was fairly safe, but the surrounding area had been subject to a string of muggings in the last few weeks which had caused him a fair bit of worry.

“Of course.” Taking a quick glance to be sure they were free from prying eyes, Alex leaned in to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh, butterflies/You steal my sleep each night

As the clock struck three in the morning, Harry woke with a start. The few hours of sleep he had gotten had been fitful, and no amount of laying in bed or cups of tea seemed to help. With a dissatisfied grunt, Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed, pushed himself up, and padded out to the living room. Clicking on the TV, Harry flipped through channels, rolling his eyes when he was that all that was on was reruns of the Great British Bake Off and golf. Bake Off it is, he thought. Ever since Alex left, she had been on his mind. Not in the worrisome, slightly-crazy ‘I can’t stop thinking about her and I need her to be with me 24/7 way,’ in the ‘I’m so in love with this woman and it scares the shit out of me’ way.

Things were going so well as a couple, Harry couldn’t help but grow worried. Things were going so well that he began to question everything. He had never felt this content in any of his former relationships, never this assured or confident or certain. And that’s what scared him. Things were going so well that Harry thought it was inevitable that something would go wrong, that things would crash and burn before they even had a chance to learn what it meant to be a them. He was so worried about how things would turn out, so worried about their relationship, because he had never felt this way about someone before. Harry had had girlfriends before. Plenty of them, in fact, Harry grumbled, remembering the days when he could scarcely go for a walk with a woman for fear of her being deemed his ‘next conquest.’ He might have even loved one or two of them. That wasn’t the issue. He had never fallen so hard for anyone before, had never felt same way around anyone before, and he had never felt like he had so much to lose. God forbid anything went wrong, Harry stood to lose not only the love of his life, but his best friend. Stop thinking like that, he tried to beat into his head. Don’t make something out of nothing. Rationally, he knew that there were no real reasons to perpetually be stuck in a ‘worst-case-scenario’ mindset, but he was finding it difficult to dig himself out of it.

I'm halfway gone/Sleepless, I'm battle worn/And you're all I want/ So bring me the dawn

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at his hands, the same ones that had held hers only hours before. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him how his relationship ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ work. It was only him and Alex. It had always been him and Alex, ever since they met in primary doing the Year 5 musical. Peter Pan had left something to be desired in terms of quality, but what it had accomplished was a friendship that Harry had cherished ever since his days in green tights. Harry didn’t know how their relationship would turn out. That wasn’t up to him. He could continue to love Alex, keeping their happiness at the center of every decision he made. He was weary from overthinking and weary from outside opinions, but he knew that the only thing he could reply on was the love he had for Alex and the hope of everything to come.

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n0velust · 3 years

Text

2007

When I received the message from a stranger on Myspace, I assumed I was being punk’d.

I heard you get sleep paralysis. So do I. Can we talk about it?

The account that sent the message supposedly belonged to a girl named Rose, but her profile was sketchy. She only had one friend. There were only two photos of her, good quality, not your basic selfies, although they weren’t professional either.

She was a blonde with bangs, her hair cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and the color of sea foam. There was an angelic quality to her. This was not the first time I had seen her face before, I was sure of that, but I couldn’t place where I reconized her from. It bothered me. Not that I believed the girl in the pictures was the one who actually sent me the message. Someone was messing with me. Someone who wanted me to reveal my weaknesses so they could use them against me.

I had only spoken of my sleep paralysis once in a public setting- a group counseling session all the way back in middle school. Sara, this redhead whom I had my eye on since the moment I first saw her, mentioned having it first in this session. We talked back and forth about it for a minute before our councilor called the meeting back into order. Sara had wanted to know more about my episodes. We met up one day, but she didn’t like that I believed sleep paralysis was a mere medical condition as opposed to a supernatural phenomenon. She committed suicide just a few months after that.

I knew better than to give this troll the time of day, but it was a lonely summer night. Besides, my curiosity had been piqued.

Cute pix but they ain’t urs, I wrote back. Maybe next time add more friends and write an About Me, so it doesn’t look like you just created the account two minutes ago.

She replied in a matter of minutes. Aww you think I’m cute?? (: lol it’s a new profile. I can send you another pic if you want.

Alright but draw a dick on your forehead so I know it’s really you, I typed back with a smug grin on my face. Checkmate. Since they wanted to act like a dickhead.

I got up and searched my dark room, my computer screen being my only source of light, for my bottle of vodka. I usually put it somewhere inconspicuous in case my cousin, Jessica, or Aunt Marilyn barged in on me. It’s neck was sticking out from under my pillow. I took several long gulps that warmed my stomach.

I didn’t expect a reply from that account but when I looked back to the screen, endorphins kicked in when I saw the one new message notification. No way. Bad Photoshop?

A grainy picture probably taken a flip phone, but it was her. She held her hair back out of her face, on her forehead she dawned the crudely drawn penis. A goofy smile.

Can we talk now? she asked in a separate message. I’d like this to be interview style. Can I call you to save us both time?

Out of pure boredom, I sent her my number. A few short seconds later, my phone rang. We got past awkward introductions.

“You do look familiar,” I admitted. “Do you go to Apponequet?”

“No, I go to Bishop Stang.”

“A Catholic school girl, huh?”

“I have come into your job at Burger Daze, maybe that’s why you recognize me. That’s where I overheard some kids talking about you and the fact that you had sleep paralysis.”

“Who?”

“I didn’t ask them their names. I just eavesdropped on their conversation,” she giggled. “To be clear, I know who you are. Not just from seeing you at your job. You’re practically famous!”

Famous people have fans, I didn’t even have friends. The main reason having to do with my local legend status in the small community of Freetown, Massachusetts. When you witness your father’s murder as a child, then go missing in the state forest for a week, and the media outlets paste your photo all over town, people rarely forget.

“Maybe I’ll give you an autograph sometimes,” I replied dryly.

“A piece of paper with your handwriting on it? That’d be great. I could use it to cast a love spell on you,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“Look, is this supposed to be a joke or-“ My amusement was wearing thin.

“No joke, Raiden. When I heard those people talking about you, I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t met another living person who’s had sleep paralysis. And for me it’s been especially bad lately so I took it as a sign that I must reach out to you.”

“Well now you have, so what do you want?”

“Tell me, do you hallucinate during?”

“Most people do. Your body puts itself in a state of paralysis, so you don’t act out your dreams. The hallucinations occur because your mind is still in a dream state.”

“Thanks for educating me on the subject as if I haven’t already extensively researched it myself. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

“Yes.”

“And what sorts of things do you see?”

“People who suffer from sleep paralysis tend to see the same things, shadow people and such. Which makes sense because the room is dark and there are a lot of shadows.”

I was so used to only talking about this with therapists that I couldn’t help but parrot the things they told me.

“What about the old hag though? Lots of people report seeing the detailed image of an old woman, usually wearing a veil, who sits on their chests. She’s not a shadow. Explain why that’s common sighting.”

I paced the room, thinking of an explanation but fell short.

“Have you seen the old hag?” I reflected her question back.

“I asked you what you saw first.”

“Yes, it’s one of the worst apparitions. She starts off as a beautiful woman and then morphs. Total succubus situation, it’s awful.”

“Sounds like the scene in The Shining. That part really freaked me out as a kid.”

“I haven’t seen it.” Or any horror movie for that matter.

“The original is better than the remake although Stephen King wouldn’t agree- anyway so, shadow people, the old hag, anything else?"

I hesitated, stumbling over my words. There was something else. Something Sara mentioned seeing too. Something that she claimed the more energy you gave to, the more powerful it got.

“I’ve seen something coming out of the wall. It’s like it comes from another dimension,” Rose went on, since I was at a loss for words. “It’s three dimensional too, not like a shadow. Unlike the other sleep paralysis villains, it can physically touch. It puts its hand over my head. Local indigenous tribes have something similar in their folklore, expect it comes out of trees instead of walls. They call it a Wuagamortchi. Have you ever seen it or heard of it?”

My throat ran dry, so I went back to my bottle and took another drink. There’s no way she could be messing with me. I’ve only spoken of this particular entity to Sara and one of my psychologists. Sara named this entity ‘Wally”. As a kid, I called it the Gatekeeper.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’ve seen it since I was a kid.”

“Can you describe your experiences?” Rose asked. Her voice was too cheery for the conversation we were having.

“No. I’d rather not. Sorry, I’m kind of freaking out right now. You’re not the first person to come into my life asking me about this shit. This girl I used to know, Sara, she saw the wog-thing, whatever you called it, too.”

“Really?” Rose asked enthusiastically. “Do you have Sara’s number? I’d love to talk to her too.”

“She committed suicide, about four years ago. I felt…guilty about it. You’re reminding me for her right now. That’s why my mind is a mess.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“Because she came to me for help so she would feel less alone. Her view on it was even darker than yours. She thought that actual demons were after her, that they wanted to make her hurt herself and other people. I dismissed her after she said all that, told her it was in her head. The ultimate betrayal, in her eyes, was when I told her boyfriend, James, that she needed help. She never spoke to me again. Her paranoia was what led her to take her life.”

“I mean, you reached out to her boyfriend about your concerns. It sounds to me like you did try to help her.”

I shook my head. “I could have done more for her. I could have been more empathetic.”

“I get it.” Finally her voice had some emotion behind it. Before she sounded like some robotic customer service representative. “My mother committed suicide and I feel like I should have done things differently too. The shrink I see says I shouldn’t blame myself but it’s hard not to.” Rose let out a sigh and pulled herself back together. “How often do you experience SP?”

It took me a moment to follow her train of thought. She dropped a bomb on me and then swept right passed it.

“A few times a week lately. I’ll go months without an episode, then it will become more frequent for a while. It has to do with stress,” I told her.

“Have you found anything that helps to reduce episodes?”

“Drinking.” I held my bottle up in a cheers to myself. I sat on my bed, leaning up against the wall with a pillow behind me.

“Alcohol? Does that really help?”

“No, not really. I wouldn’t recommend it. It helped at first but now it just makes me not care as much that it’s happening.”

“Hmm. I smoke weed at night for the same reason.” She paused for a moment, “have you ever smoked before?”

“Once.” With Sara. God, everything that came out of this girl’s mouth reminded me of Sara.

We stayed up talking for hours after that, getting to know each other. Rose told me that she had recently found her mother’s diary, where she described her own instances of sleep paralysis. While Rose did believe it was paranormal and I didn’t, we came to the agreement that there was a link between sleep paralysis and mental health issues- depression, anxiety, PTSD. It all went hand in hand.

I listened to Rose talk about her out of body experiences, how she had been training herself to detach her soul from her body during sleep paralysis and shoot energy balls as her interdimensional intruders. She told me about how her and her mother to share the same dreams and that she would astral project to the astral plane, hoping to find he mother there so she could say goodbye one last time. She said she wanted me to astral project with her, so we could be together, but I said I’d rather just take her out on a date. Her ramblings were nonsensical, yet she spoke them with such conviction that I wanted to believe.

Rose said that since it was summer she had been waiting until sunrise to let herself sleep. We stayed up until then talking. When we finally did go to sleep we left our phones beside us on speaker, so if something did happen to one or both of us, the other person would be on the line. It was the first night in weeks I had slept without having a nightmare or an episode of sleep paralysis.

We texted each other all that next day, then at night we spoke on the phone for hours on end. This went on for a few days. By the end of the first night, I was already hounding her about meeting up. she invited me to meet her at this house party she was attending on Friday night.

Thanks to our late-night chats, not only was I sleeping better but I had also stopped drinking. I wanted to be coherent in our conversations. I wanted her to think that I was smart and funny, not some loser teenage alcoholic. But- before going to meet her at this party in Fall River, a half an hour drive away, I did have a little liquid courage to calm my nerves.

When I pulled up to the house and parked along the street, she was out on the driveway waiting for me. She wore cut-off shorts and a black crop top, and a light jacket over it, despite it being the middle of July and eighty degrees outside. Over her shoulders, she wore a mini black backpack.

Despite her heavy make-up, she was still gorgeous. Even more so in person. Slim build but great legs. Her friend Genesis was starting next to her, holding her hand. Genesis taller than Rose but not my much. Her hair was clearly bleached blonde and fell in tight, corkscrew curls. She was dressed in a similar outfit. They were staring at my car and whispering among themselves. When I got out, Rose let out a squeal that I could hear from all the way over where I was standing.

Rose looked terrified, her eyes as wide as saucers. She had never even had a first kiss before and while I wanted to rush over and give that to her, what I wanted more was for her to feel comfortable.

“Hi Raiden,” Genesis called on Rose’s behalf as I approached them.

“That’s Genna,” Rose said, still clutching her friend’s hand. I could barely hear her.

“I know. I recognize her as your only Myspace friend.”

When I got up to them, it struck me how much I towered over them. A though occurred, what if she’s lying about her age? But I pushed it back to the far corners of my mind. Rose told me she was fifteen, sixteen on November 27th. My birthday was exactly a month after hers, I’d be turning eighteen. Our age difference wasn’t too bad. She had mentioned on the phone that she was petite.

Genna pealed Rose’s hand off of hers and shoved her in my direction before turning her back and walking away. Rose watched her friend go before turning to me. I stood still like I was offering food to a timid deer. Where was the bold girl whom I had spoken to over the phone?

Suddenly she was running towards me. She leapt up and I caught her in my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and initiated the first kiss. I let her have a little peck then tilted my head back farther. She groaned, her fingernails pricking the back of my neck. Our noses brushed before we kissed again. I melted into it.

I put her back down and we looked each other over.

“I’ve never been to a house party before,” I said, to break the ice.

“I don’t really like these types of parties,” she confessed.

“Why are we here then?”

“It just so happens that this party is only a couple blocks away from where a dear old friend of mine lives. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to pay him a visit.”

Him? Confusion, jealousy, rage bubbled up in my chest.

“You can come with me,” she clarified. “I want you to.” She batted her eyelashes at me and held her hand out for me to take but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.

“Who’s your friend?” I asked, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

“Andrew. You probably know him since you went to Freetown Lakeville Middle. Andrew Arslanian.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Mr. Arslanian? The fucking science teacher?”

She giggled at my surprise. “That’s the one. Part science teacher, part pervert. He stays busy.”

“How do you know that? Did he hurt you? What are you going to do to him?” So many questions and finding the answers wouldn’t make me feel any better.

“No. Not me,” Rose chuckled ironically. “This girl, Danielle. They had an affair. She was too young to know what she was getting into-“

Two girls stumbled out of the party, leaving the door wide open. The music was playing so loud that I could feel the bass in my bones.

Rose lowered her voice, “he knocked her up, then tried to throw money at her and threaten her into having an abortion until she moved away. Dani and I aren’t even friends anymore but that’s a whole ‘nother story. This was all long time ago.”

“Why wait til now to go after Mr. Arslanian? What are you going to do to him?”

“Chill. I’m not going to burn his house done or anything.” She took off her tiny backpack and unzipped it to allow me a peek inside. A single can of red spray paint and a wallet.

“And honestly, I haven’t thought of him in a long time but since I’m in the neighborhood…” She cocked her head and smiled at me, batting her eyelashes persuasively.

“How do you even know his address?”

“The internet.” She shrugged.

“I just-“ I didn’t want to come off like a buzzkill or an asshole. “I came all this way to hang out with you not to vandalize my eighth-grade teacher’s house.”

Her cheeks blushed. “I want to hang out with you too. This won’t take long, and you can pick what we do next.”

“I guess I’m in then,” I said with a scoff and an eyeroll.

She jumped for joy and let out a big, “Yesss!”

“But next time, tell me ahead of time when you have a crazy idea like this.”

“For sure I will.” She took my hands, intertwined her fingers in mine and started leading me down the sidewalk. “I’m so glad you agreed to join me because the Lucy I took should kick in soon an-“

I stopped dead in my tracks, bringing her to an abrupt halt as well. “What?!”

“Lucy. It’s slang for-“

“LSD,” I finished for her.

“It’s probably best that someone will be looking after me when it kicks in.”

I looked at her, then back to my car, and really contemplated leaving. Rose had told me about her experiences with various drugs, Xanax, coke, and of course weed. Genesis brought her into this world and Rose liked to experiment.

“I saved a stamp for you.” She looked up at me with angel eyes.

I knew a time would come when I’d be offered something questionable. Under different circumstances, I’d be more inclined to want to try LSD but not at a damn party. Not when we both have a history of mental illness. It seemed like an awful idea. I wasn’t about to explain that to her because I didn’t want her thinking I was a loser.

I liked her. A lot. There had other women, I was no virgin, but I had never had a serious relationship before. No one’s mind enticed me as much as Rose’s. I had never shared a connection like this with anybody. No one’s eyes had ever hypnotized me in such a way that my brain shut off entirely. I couldn’t blow this so soon, so I forced a smile over my haunted expression.

“Let me give you some money for mine at least.”

“No, it’s okay. Genna and her boyfriend TJ just gave them to me.” She fumbled in her purse and took out her wallet, out of her billfold, she handed me a stamp. Not the postage kind.

“Don’t chew it or swallow it, just leave it on your tongue for a while.” She held out her finger with the tiny white square on top and I took it and did as instructed.

“It’s my first time taking acid too so this should be interesting.” She giggled.

“How long ago did you take yours?” I asked, trying to judge how long I’d have until it set in.

“Right before you got here,” she replied. “TJ said it’d take about fifteen minutes to half an hour before I felt anything. He’s a total douche but at least he’s good for party favors.”

We locked hands again. My hands were so much bigger than hers and she had to hold hers above her waist to align it with my own.

“Why don’t you like TJ?”

“He’s a pedo too. Dude’s twenty years old. He has no business hanging out with girls as young as me and Genna.”

“Why don’t you tell your friend that?”

“She knows how old he is. She doesn’t care. Just thinks he’s with her because she’s so mature. Trust me, if I told her what I really thought about him, she’d choose him over me. Love makes people stupid and blind.”

I could see that now…

“Girls get obsessed with these random ass guys that come into their lives. No depth or anything unique about them. That’s why I never bothered dating. I never met anyone who truly compelled me.” She squeezed my hand. “Until now.”

“I must really like you because I can’t say no to you.” I grinned at her.

She lit up when I said that. There was no point in either of us trying to play it cool. No way she could have hidden that ear to ear smile. Under the streetlamps, I spotted freckles on her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, underneath all that make-up. Such a shame that she covered them up.

“Are you a natural blonde?” I asked.

“Yeah but my natural color is a little darker than it is now.”

I kept looking at her. Her familiarity drove me nuts, like when a word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite remember what it is.

“It’s weird that I have no memory of interacting with you when you were a customer at my work.”

“You see a lot of customers come through there every day.”

“Yeah but I remember the pretty ones. And I’d definitely remember your face. Especially since you said you come in there a lot.”

“You were the main reason I was coming in there for a while. Just because I thought you were so handsome.” She laughed at herself. I could feel her hand shaking in mine. It was a little sweaty too.

“Are you serious? That’s…slightly creepy but also flattering. Does that mean you have ulterior motives when you friended me on Myspace?”

“I saw that as my way in, yes. When I heard those kids talking about you having sleep paralysis, I took it as a sign that we were meant to get to know each other.”

“When you first invited me to this party, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to come. I’m really glad we’re hanging out, just you and me. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Me either. I have social anxiety. I’m more comfortable with a small group of people. Or with just you.” She led us across the street, onto a different road.

“You’re pretty social though. You’re more outgoing than me.”

“It’s all an act, I’m actually pretty shy.”

“You don’t seem very shy to me.”

“Really. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like something was wrong with me. Something that everyone else can see too. I became really withdrawn so obviously, it was always hard for me to make friends. But then I learned this thing from Dexter, have you seen that show? Or read the books?”

“Dexter’s Laboratory?”

“No!” Rose laughed. “Dexter the serial killer. He only kills bad guys. Anyway, he talks about having to wear this mask to blend in with the rest of society because duh he’s a killer and he works around a bunch of cops but I kind of took that concept and applied it to my own life. Did you know that Paris Hilton is actually smart? She just plays a character to mask her true self?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“That’s what I do. I play a character. I say and do crazy things because….people think of me as one thing and my true self hides behind that persona. I pretend my life is a realty show, and I do whatever I want. I know that all sounds weird. I’ve always been real with you though.”

“I get where you’re coming from. Blend in with the normies so they don’t question you too much.”

“Right because when you’re quiet, people can fill your silence with whatever they want.” Her words hung in the air, echoing on a loop in my mind.

She pulled her hand from mine and I worried she was suddenly upset with me. She took off her backpack and dropped it on the ground. I picked it up and held it for her.

“It’s so hot,” she said as she took her jacket off.

Before I could open my mouth to ask her why she was even wearing it, I saw the angry, red welts on the pale skin of her freckled bicep. Four of them at least, but there were more that looked faded.

“What are those?” I asked, running my index finger over them raised scars.

“Oh, right. That’s why I was wearing the jacket,” Rose said, more to herself than to me. She sighed as she shoved her arms back into it.

“You don’t have to cover them up but what happened to you?” I pulled her jacket back off to get another look at them. “Are they cigarette burns? Who’s hurting you?”

Rose chuckled at me. “It was just me, don’t worry.”

“I am worried though. Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I get overwhelmed sometimes, and it helps to ground me. Don’t judge.”

“It’s not exactly a healthy coping mechanism.”

“Neither is your drinking,” she shot back. Her eyes were narrowed but she wore a ‘gotcha’ smile. “You don’t want to be like my dad, unable to hold down a job. He tells us he quit, he’s gonna sober up, but he just tries to hide it. He never knows what’s going on, it’s really embarrassing.” Her voice was louder and more emotional than usual.

“You’re right. I know. What I do is another form of self-harm. I’ll make you a deal though, I stop drinking and you stop burring yourself, okay?”

“What about a wager?” she asked with a grin. She pondered the terms of the wager for a moment. “Whoever loses has to give the other person oral sex.”

Laughter boomed from my chest. “No, that’s fucked up. I don’t want to benefit from you hurting yourself. Besides, if we did that, I’d just go back to the party and have a drink.”

We shared a laugh at that.

“I rather just make it a pact,” I went on. “If you feel the urge, just reach out to me and talk to me about it – or your friend Genesis. And I’ll do the same, okay?” I extended my arm for a handshake.

“Deal,” she said, taking my hand. I pulled her in for a hug, our lips found each other’s, and we kissed softly but hungrily. Euphoria pulsed through my veins. She pulled away too soon.

“Let’s just this over with, before I start tripping.”

She led the way through the neighborhood, knowing exactly where she was going. We walked at a quick pace until we came upon a two-story yellow painted home.

3342 Snyder Lane.

She took out the spray paint can and shook it, I worried about the noises. There was no car out front in the driveway but there was always a two-car garage, so it was hard to tell if anyone was home.

Wind blew in through the trees overhead. Rose looked up at the swaying branches in awe. She waved back to them.

“Rose! Hurry it up,” I urged her in a whisper.

She looked to me, confused, and then down at the spray paint can in her hand. Dropping to her knees, she was mesmerized by the paint exiting the can. “I’m creating universes,” she told herself.

She put her other hand into the stream of paint.

“Stop,” I said. “You don’t want to get caught red handed, do you?”

She looked up at me and then down at her red palm, laughing at my pun. I took the spray can away from her and told her I’d do it.

Ask me about Danielle, I wrote on the driveway in messy print. Underneath that, I added, I’m a pedo, to make our accusations clear.

I looked up for Rose and nearly had a heart attack when I saw her peeking in through the first story window. I ran up behind her but then froze.

There was sheer, red, fabric over the window but we could still see what was going on in the house. People, maybe ten of them, all wearing plain black masks but with a red upside-down triangle drawn over the forehead. They were dancing around. In the center of their circle was a man tied to a chair. He was slouched over, still, eyes open and unblinking. They were taking turns stabbing his already dead body.

“Get away from there,” I said, a little too loud. Because one of them stopped in their tracks and looked out through the window, right at us. This person’s sudden stop in rotation caused the others to bump into them.

Without thinking, I picked Rose up and threw over my shoulder. I ran out of there like a bat out of hell. Her backpack clapped against her with every step. The adrenaline must have given me extra strength because I ran like that with her on my back for blocks and blocks, until, I couldn’t take it anymore. I set her on the ground, and we ran together hand in hand for what felt like an eternity. All I knew was the run. A running being was my identity. I couldn’t think of anything else. I can’t tell you how long we ran or how far we got. Rose led us and not in a straight direction, to confuse whoever might have been following us. We went through people’s backyards, up and over fences. Repeatedly.

I could have kept going but Rose was out of breath and collapsed herself onto someone’s yard. She repeated, “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t do it.”

“Did you see what I saw?” I asked, my hands rested on my knees as I gasped for air. When I closed my eyes, I saw geometric shapes breathing. Circles morphing into triangles, then into diamonds, then into hexagons.

“They were killing him,” Rose said in a weak voice, burying her face in the grass.

“He was already dead.”

My voice didn’t sound like my own. I felt like we were in virtual reality, like I was at home playing video games and none of this was even real. “They saw us. We need to keep moving.” I reached my hand down to help her up.

“I can’t run anymore. I always knew if I was in a horror movie, that I wouldn’t survive the run. Go on without me. Save yourself.”

“It’s my responsibility to protect you,” I replied. “You’re my girlfriend.”

I was just as surprised of those words coming out of my mouth as she was. She smiled and it was like everything was okay. For a second there, time stood still, and I felt perfectly sober. But then everything got wavy again.

She allowed me to help her to her feet. “I’m your girlfriend?”

“Why else would I be going through all this shit for you? Now c’mon. We can walk but we have to move forward.”

“I don’t know how to get home.”

I looked around my surroundings, only now realizing that we were utterly lost. “You mean back to the party?”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that stupid party.”

“Did you want me to take you home? Because I would.”

“No way. I couldn’t bear to see my mother right now.” I just looked at her. Her mother was dead, but it probably wasn’t the best moment to remind her of that.

I tried to remember the route we took to get to where we were. If I could remember where Mr. Arslanian lived, maybe I could get us back to the party. What I needed was a weapon though, to make sure that we got back safely.

The best I could find in the moment was a large stick. I picked it up and held it over my shoulder. “This way,” I told Rose, leading her in the direction that felt right.

The threat might have been gone but my paranoia remained. All the houses looked the same. We were in an endless labyrinth. I tried to have a conversation with Rose while we walked, to add some normalcy to the evening. My mind would loop, and then I’d completely forget what I was thinking about. I’d forget what I was saying, midsentence. My words came out a mush. We didn’t see any people outside or even cars driving by and that had me feeling like I was in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Soon the zombies would come.

Things got weirder when I had the sudden sensation that I was actually my father and I was lost in the void between Earth and the afterlife. I was his ghost, trying to escape from some evil force that beckoned to me. My breath hitched. I could feel my insides vibrating. Everything was vibrating. I sat down in the grass, hoping that the feeling would pass.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked, the first time she had spoken in a while.

“I’m going to a bad place.” I covered my face with my hands in shame.

“You don’t have to,” she told me. “Genna warned me about bad trips. She told me that if you think bad thoughts, of course you’ll have a bad trip. But you can have a good time too, it’s all in how you approach it. You’re thinking too much,” she said. I couldn’t fathom how she could say so many words.

“Just lie back and enjoy the ride.”

What a concept. All my life, I’ve never been able to do just that.

It was a clear night and the stars were visible. For a moment it felt like I was the pilot of a spaceship. Then after staring at them for too long, they didn’t even look real anymore. A hologram. I broke the celestial trance and shifted my gaze over to her. The most beautiful being I had ever laid eyes on, she made this all worth it.

Feeling my stare Rose looked over at me, brushing her fingers over my face. “This is all worth it because we’re together.”

“I was just thinking that exact same thing,” I said, finally finding my words. “You read my mind.”

She rolled over on her side and I did the same. We were almost nose to nose.

“Remember what I told you on the phone? If we practice reading each other’s minds, soon we'll be able to dream share.”

I thought of the game she taught me to play over the phone. One person clears their mind and closes their eyes, holding a picture of the other person in their mind. The other person focuses on sending a mental transmission, through a beam of light from their forehead, the other person. I wasn’t very good at the game.

“What am I thinking?” she asked. “The category is fruit.”

I did as instructed and waited to receive her transmission. “Grapes,” I said as the image suddenly popped up in my mind.

“What kind of grapes?”

My eyes tried to flutter open, but I forced them shut. “Was I right? They’re green.” The picture was so clear, I could almost taste them. I looked at her for conformation.

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, green grapes.. The acid must be helping us connect.”

“I’ll try to send one to you,” I said. “It’s a shape and a color.”

We both laid back in the grass. I closed my eyes, held her in my mind. The light stemming from my forehead was so bright it was like I could really see it.

“Blue, a circle- no wait now it’s a triangle.” She opened her eyes and asked if she was right.

I nodded and told her to close her eyes again. “I’ll send you a number now.”

“Twenty-seven,” she said, in no time at all. “I can see it clear as day. And the numbers are in white bubble lettering with yellow polka-dots.” I was in awe, unable to speak. Good thing that I didn’t need to anymore.

“It’s the date of both or birthdays,” she went on.

“That’s why I was thinking of it. You also mentioned on the phone that you liked that number.”

“Wow,” Rose said. “I can’t believe we mastered teleportation.” We both laughed as she realized she said the wrong word.

“Telepathy,” I corrected. “I think we’d need a little more acid for teleportation.”

Music started playing out of nowhere. It was really creepy until we realized it was coming from Rose’s phone. I had completely forgotten we carried such devices.

“Whoa, the screen is all over the place,” Rose said before answering.

“I just wanted to check in,” I heard Genesis say. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re lost,” Rose replied.

There was a male’s voice in the background. Genesis had us walk to a street corner and tell her the names of the roads on the intersection we were on. It was hard to read the sign. The letter flew off and were carried away by the wind. After discussion with the other person she was with, Genesis told us to stay where we were and that she’d come find us.

I told Rose that it might be dangerous for Genesis to be walking the streets by herself. The masked ones who had engaged in the ritual could still be looking for us. Rose tried to tell Genesis about Mr. Arslanian and what we saw through his window, but Genesis just started laughing.

“You can tell it’s their first time tripping,” she said to someone else. “TJ’s coming with me. We’re on our way. Just sit tight,” Genesis told Rose before hanging up.

When we saw two figures approaching us, walking in the middle of the road, Rose jumped up and down with excitement. “They found us! We’re saved.”

She took off running towards her friend. I was shocked when both girls lifted up their shirts, revealing their bras underneath. They howled when they bumped their chests together.

Genesis’ boyfriend must have noticed my expression because he explained that was like their secret handshake. He introduced himself as TJ, while the girls were jumping all over each other. He looked like how I imagined he would, old as hell. He had long greasy hair, with a black cap over his head. A full beard, I must have looked like a child next to him. He wore a white t-shirt with holes in it and jeans that hung down below the waist. I didn’t like him. He instantly gave me bad vibes. I would have rather been lost with Rose forever.

As we walked back to the party, which apparently we were only a couple of blocks away from, the girls walked together ahead of us, chatting gleefully back and forth. Rose was telling Genesis that I was her boyfriend and Genesis was really excited about the whole thing.

TJ pulled me back to slow our pace, he grabbed my roughly. “You be good to our Rosie.” That instantly pissed me off. Rose was not his. “She’s a wild one. No experience but she’s ready to learn to fuck.” I was ready to kick this fucker’s ass.

“I coulda had her but she didn’t like the idea of a three-way relationship. She thought Genna would be mad at her but Genna said she woulda been cool with it.”

If Mr. A and his friends needed another sacrifice, I had just the guy for them.

“I never met two girls with such dirty minds,” he had the audacity to continue. “You’ll have fun wit her, I bet. But yo, if you’re gonna stick it to ‘er, don’t go ghost after tonight. That would make her sad. Which would make Genesis sad. Which would fuck wit my own life, ya feel me?”

“I don’t plan on ghosting her and I don’t plan on sleeping with her tonight either. I like her. I’m not trying to rush anything. I want to see where it goes.”

“Bro sex on acid is fucking magical. You should try it sometime. Are you having a good trip?”

“I’d be enjoying it more if I didn’t just see my old science teacher having a satanic ritual.”

He laughed at me, “You’re funny, man.”

We could hear the music from down the street and started to run towards it, grateful to be freed from the maze. Back at the party, my mood did a three-sixty. Genesis and TJ shared a joint with us, which put me on another level for sure, but the euphoria was back. Genesis kept taking pictures. Rose and I even danced. Our bodies moving to the music without having to think twice about it. After working up a sweat, we went to the refreshment table and drank some water.

“They’re so many of them! They’re multiplying,” Rose said, mesmerized by a tray of cupcakes. “Why’s no one eating them? I don’t want to be the only one who eats one. What’s wrong with these people?”

I encouraged her to just take one and she looked at me, her eyes mischievous.

“I have a better idea,” she grinned. “Carry the tray upstairs for me, I’m scared I’d drop it.”

“What do you want to do with them?” I asked.

“We could put the frosting on each other’s bodies and lick it off.” She didn’t have to tell me twice, I grabbed the tray and we headed to the second floor.

#fiction writer #romance writing #horror writing #poetry #writeblr #creative writing #amwriting #grunge asthetic #sleep paralysis #demons #cult

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zoemurph · 6 years

Text

to have a friend, chapter six: $136

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

i was gonna hold back on posting this but im impatient. if you thought this was going to be subtle in any way you should know ive never been subtle a day in my life. please read the end notes chill thank you

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, small mention of blood (in the past)

enjoy!!

Connor has made a lot of mistakes in his life. Sure, everyone does, but most people aren’t as giant fuck ups as Connor is.

Right now, at the very top of his ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ list, is letting Evan Hansen fall asleep on him.

He wouldn’t have pushed Evan off of him or anything like that, he’s not a monster, but god. He regrets letting Evan stay like that for almost three hours. Curled up against him and breathing gently and looking all calm and at peace while he slept. His hair had been ridiculously soft and he smelt like pine and—

Connor covers his face with his hands.

Evan fell asleep on his shoulder almost two weeks ago and it’s literally occupied so many of Connor’s thoughts that he’s going to scream.

The universe is really fucking cruel. Of course he’d develop a painful crush on the guy that he’s paying to pretend to be his friend. Hilarious.

He’s been trying to keep it subtle. Under wraps. Don’t smile too much at Evan. Don’t laugh too much. Don’t touch him. At all. No physical contact at all whatsoever unless Evan initiates it first.

There has been a few times where Evan has looked up at Connor with a smile and Connor has actually thought he was about to combust. And then he had to go to AP Literature and pretend his heart wasn’t about to explode.

Alana Beck had given him a weird look when he walked into the room. He’d sat down and buried his face in his arms and pretended he was tired.

So yeah. Connor might have a minor crush on his fake best friend. No big deal. Shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s had crushes before and handled them fine. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it is.

It’s different in every way. He starts every day at Evan’s locker. He eats lunch with Evan if they have the same lunch hour. He smiles at Evan in the hallway and Evan waves at him with a grin that Connor pretends isn’t fake because it hurts less. He ends his day at Evan’s locker. On Wednesdays, they go to the computer lab and print out Evan’s letter for his therapist. They plan their hang outs softly in the hallways, because Larry could still be checking Connor’s messages, even though Connor changes his password every two weeks. Connor texts Evan about anything. Random things. Random facts he finds online that Evan replies to with his own random facts.

The difference is Evan.

Evan is so many things. It’s a never ending list that Connor keeps adding to mentally because he loves to torture himself. And it hurts, because he’s so many things that Connor will never actually have in his life. He’s not sure how long he can actually keep up this fake friends thing. Purely because of the money. He’s starting to run out of his own money and has been slipping money from his mom’s purse or Larry’s wallet whenever he gets the chance, but it’s still risky.

Not that Connor won’t risk it for another few hours with Evan.

It’s kind of pathetic. It’s definitely pathetic.

But has Connor ever been anything other than pathetic?

Connor stares at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. And now he’s awake. At four in the morning on a Monday. He’s awake at four in the morning thinking about a boy with a heart stopping smile and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Connor doesn’t actually know if he’s ever been gayer than he is in this exact moment in time.

Eventually he just gets out of bed because what’s the fucking point of lying around. A tiny part of his mind thinks ‘hey you could do homework right now’. Connor laughs at that part of his brain and grabs a sketchbook off his desk.

He actually managed to clean up some of his room. Some of his clothes are now in drawers instead of covering his floor. But he has succeeded in finding a bunch of empty sketchbooks, from back when he thought he was going to be drawing a lot more then he ended up doing.

He might have run out of purple in his watercolor palette, but at least he has about six empty sketchbooks that he can fill with garbage.

Connor puts in his headphones and sits on the floor, leaning against the edge of his bed, and draws mindlessly. He sort of lets the music inspire him, but he also just draws whatever comes to mind. He vaguely remembers someone once saying that he should draw interactions between people in his sketchbook, so he makes an attempt to not just draw a bunch of busts facing three quarters to the left.

He finds a random highlighter under his desk. He stares at it for a second before uncapping it and randomly adding neon yellow wherever he feels like it. Because it’s his sketchbook and he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

He’s still drawing when Zoe appears in his doorway.

Connor pulls out an earbud and looks up at her. “What?”

“Was just going to wake you up,” she says flatly. “Guess I don’t have to. Get your ass down to breakfast. We have to leave early today. Band.”

Connor rolls his eyes and closes his sketchbook. He tosses it on his bed. Whatever.

—«·»—

“You okay?” Evan asks when he joins Connor at the locker.

Connor shrugs. “Tired.”

“Is that all?” Evan furrows his eyebrows and there’s a crease in his forehead and Connor looks away.

“Yeah.” He is tired. He can feel his sleep schedule falling out of place, and it’s not just Evan. That’s not a good sign because then he has to reset it and that’s fucking annoying. “Here,” he says, holding out a ten. “My half for the pizza.”

There’s a second before Evan takes it. “You know I can’t eat all that pizza by myself anyway.” Connor thinks he might be trying for a light tone, but it seems forced.

Of course it’s forced. They aren’t actually friends, Evan just puts up with Connor.

Connor clenches his jaw.

Maybe the first thing on his list of mistakes should be asking Evan Hansen to be his fake friend.

—«·»—

Connor leans against Evan’s locker as he waits. Weird how much of his life revolves around Evan now. He’ll decide if that’s healthy or not later.

“Sup, dude,” Jared says, walking up to Connor.

Connor nods to him. He’s too tired to deal with Jared, but he’ll do his best. But only for Evan.

“Seen the acorn?” Jared asks.

Connor tries not to grimace. “Not since lunch.”

“Hello.” Alana joins them by the locker. The small hallway is getting crowded. “Are you waiting for Evan?”

Jared and Connor exchange a glance.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “How’d you guess?”

“This is Evan’s locker,” Alana says.

“Oh.”

“Why are we waiting for Evan?” Zoe asks.

Connor rolls his eyes. Where did she come from? “There was no ‘we’ here. It was just me.” He shoots a glare to Jared.

Jared scoffs. “You can’t hog my best friend.”

Connor raises his eyebrow. “Best friend?”

“Am I not bringing you home then?” Zoe asks, crossing her arms. “Because I don’t have rehearsal and I’m not waiting.”

“I’m good,” Connor says. “I’ll figure something out.”

Zoe makes a face. “Okay. Have fun.”

Alana turns and watches Zoe vanish into the crowd of students. “Zoe does a lot.”

“So do you,” Connor points out. “Did you need Evan?” For some reason, he doesn’t want Alana or Jared here. He wants Evan by himself. Because he’s a selfish asshole.

Alan shifts uncomfortably. “Not necessarily. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Evan says.

Connor turns to see Evan behind him. Alana lifts a hand to wave.

“S-sorry for making you wait,” Evan apologizes.

Connor steps aside to let Evan into his locker. “It’s fine,” he promises.

Evan glances to Jared. “Wh-what’s up?”

“Just checking in on my…bud.” Jared awkwardly punches Evan in the shoulder.

Evan stares at him. “I’ll tell my mom,” he says after a moment.

“Cool cool cool chill.” Jared runs a hand over his hair. “Nice.”

Connor squints at Jared. “Are you having a stroke?”

Jared flips him off.

“How— how are you?” Evan asks Alana. “We haven’t, um, really—”

“Talked?” Alana interrupts. She shrugs. “I’m alright. Yourself?”

Evan glances to Connor. “Okay. Did you— were you just saying hi?”

Alana rocks back on her heals. “I actually had a question about student council? Or two. Either way it should only be a minute of your time!”

Evan blinks. “S-student council?”

She nods. “If you don’t mind! I actually have to run to make a poster but if you want to talk tomorrow—”

“Talk now,” Jared says, butting in. “I’ve got you, girl, I’m a master at illegal photoshop.” He points his thumb at himself. “Tell me what you need and I can get it to you in like fifteen.”

Alana eyes Jared suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

Jared scoffs. “Am I sure? Do you even know me?”

“Yes.”

Evan bites his lower lip to hold back a smile and Connor has to look away before it makes him smile.

Jared scowls. “Seriously, I’ve got you. It’s not hard, it’s some fucking text and a clipart picture. I’m not busting out inDesign or anything. Chill, talk to Evan, meet me in the computer lab when you’re done.”

Alana looks at him for a long moment before she says, “Okay. I’m trusting you.” She pulls out a notebook and quickly writes down instructions. Connor watches her write in fascination. He doesn’t pay enough attention in literature to know her handwriting and it’s a lot less neat than he thought it’d be. There’s a dramatic tilt to it and the letters loop and blur together.

Alana tears the page from her notebook and hands it to Jared. “Do what you can while I talk to Evan,” she says seriously. “Don’t send anything to print until I okay it, besides, we need the vice principal’s signature before we can start hanging these up. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Jared rolls his eyes and folds up the paper. “I get it I get it. I’m not five. See you losers. And Alana. See you in a bit.” He shoots them finger guns before turning and walking down the hallway toward the computer lab.

Alana looks at Connor.

Connor looks back.

Evan looks at Connor.

Connor gets the message.

“See you later, Ev,” Connor says.

Evan gives him a small smile. “I’ll text you.”

Connor hums as he walks away, doing a little salute to Alana as he turns.

Now what the fuck to do? He doesn’t want to go home yet and he doesn’t have a heavy enough jacket to go to the playground. It’s the last week of October and Mother Nature decided a bit of ice was needed before Halloween. The temperature keeps dipping below freezing and it’s some bullshit.

He glances back over his shoulder to see Evan and Alana at the end of the hallway. Alana is gesturing as Evan nods along. Connor’s stomach twists and bitter thoughts start to cloud his mind, but he shoves them away and focuses on the boringly beige color of the lockers. One after another. Exactly the same.

He finds his feet bringing him toward the computer lab. Even though it’s Monday, not Wednesday. Even though Jared is there. For some reason, the computer lab is the most comforting place in this dump.

That’s fucking depressing.

Connor shoulders the door open. Maybe if he sticks around in here Evan will show up with Alana. Or something.

So much of his day should not be devoted to thinking about Evan Hansen, but here he is.

Jared is sitting at one of the computers, bag on the floor and feet up on the table. He has a browser and about thirty tabs open. He chews on a pen as he types.

Jared glances up at Connor. He lowers the pen. “The fuck do you want?”

“Bored.” Connor kicks one of the chairs that’s not pushed in. “Why do you care?”

“Bored without Evan to harass?” Jared mutters.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“What do you think you heard?” Jared asks. “Cause it’s probably exactly that.”

Connor scoffs. “Okay. Nice one, douchebag.”

“Oh, shit, name calling!” Jared spins away from the computer and glares at Connor. “Are we name calling now? Is that what we’re doing?”

“I’m not harassing, Evan.” Connor crosses his arms. “Can’t say the same for you.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I’ve known the guy for like twelve years, I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Connor grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his jacket. “Do you? Do you really?”

“What?!” Jared snaps, standing up. “Do you have something you want to fucking say to me?”

Connor laughs sharply. “I have a few fucking things to say to you.”

“Go for it, bro,” Jared throws his arms out, “no one’s going to stop you!”

“Do you really think Evan is your best friend?” Connor is surprised that those are the first words out of his mouth. They taste sour and feel like acid. His insides are being eaten up by vicious venom and he’s drowning in bitterly cold thoughts.

“I’ve known him since we were five,” Jared says.

“And I’ve known Zoe since she was fucking born,” Connor snaps. “And she would be happier if I were dead so I wouldn’t hold us up as a great example for friendship. That’s not good enough.”

“Okay, okay! You think you’re Evan’s best friend?” Jared counters. “Because that’s bullshit. That’s bullshit and we both fucking know it. Because I know what this is and it’s not friendship.”

It isn’t and that hurts more than anything Jared could ever say to Connor. More than anything anyone could say to him. More than things Zoe has yelled at him, more than what Larry has spit.

More than things Connor has told himself when everything was dark and there was no way out.

Because it’s so fucking easy to pretend. To pretend that this is real and tangible and not— not what it is. Fake. A lie. A fabrication. Something that could be torn apart at any moment. It’s been two months, but it’s nothing more than a web that Connor and Evan have crafted. Nothing actually ties them together.

Connor is still lost. And Connor is still alone.

He almost chokes on his words and their bitterness. “You can’t get mad at me when all you’ve done for years is be a shitty friend,” he hisses.

“At least I’m not paying him and pretending!” Jared practically yells.

Connor digs his nails into the palm of his hand and he is so glad he and Jared are on opposite sides of the room. He has so many things he wants to yell or scream and just eject into the universe.

None of them can make it to his throat.

“Oh fuck you,” he snaps, spinning on his heel and storming toward the door. He throws them open and stalks down the hall, trying to breathe and stop the spiraling.

Before the doors shut, he can hear Jared shout, “Fuck you!”

—«·»—

It’s bitterly cold outside and Connor can’t feel his hands.

He goes to the playground. He sits on the top of the jungle gym and stares at the overgrown field. He remembers when they played bad games of soccer and tripped on the ditches in the grass. He looks at the parking lot. Old and forgotten. Cracked and run down.

There’s the pothole where Zoe dripped and fell on her face. She bit her bottom lip when she fell and cut up her face and was bleeding everywhere. Connor had been called down to the nurse’s office while the school called their mom because Zoe was hysterical. The blood was actually kind of cool (Zoe would think so too later when she wasn’t in pain) but Connor sat next to Zoe and held her hand while she cried and the nurse cleaned up the blood.

Connor sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest.

The more time he spends here — the more time he spends here when he isn’t high — the harder it is to not think of the memories. To not think of times when things weren’t constantly garbage.

Like the sewer grate a few feet away from where Zoe fell. Everyone used to say there was an alligator living down there. Everyone would gather around it and throw rocks inside, any rocks that would fit, to feed the alligator. Because a rock eating alligator living in the sewers made sense to a group of first graders.

Everything makes more sense when you’re a first grader. You say you’re going to marry someone because your friend wants to marry them and then you get in a fight because you can’t both marry the same person and you spill juice all over the place and learn how to add numbers together using shitty timed math tests.

When Connor was a first grader his biggest problem was usually what his mom packed him for snacks.

Now it’s a game of ‘is today the day I just fucking jump off a bridge or what?’

Unfortunately, jumping off a jungle gym built for seven year olds probably won’t even break his arm.

And now he’s back to Evan.

Connor wants to laugh. Or scream. Or tear his hair out. He is nothing to Evan and somehow Evan is almost everything to him and that is as fucking pathetic as he can get.

Instead he just bites down on his wrist. It doesn’t even hurt through his jacket, but it’s something to do. Something other than just—

Screaming on an abandoned playground.

People don’t typically give a shit but also someone would probably call the cops.

Jared wasn’t right but he also wasn’t wrong. And Connor wants to violently rip out the part of himself that likes Evan Hansen. The part of him that turns to mush when Evan smiles like that. The part of him that keeps cycling back to Evan’s hair, Evan’s eyes, Evan’s freckles, Evan’s voice, Evan’s laugh—

Connor wants to destroy the parts of himself that like Evan.

He would have to destroy all himself.

He bites down harder on his jacket and tries not to think. Thinking can only hurt more.

Evan gives Connor a worried look the next day. Connor meets him by his locker, just because it’s what they do. If it were up to him, he would be at home. Asleep. Or in the library. Asleep. Or reading. Or not…here. Not with Evan. With his polos and his smile and his hair and his eyes.

He got his cast off almost a week ago, but it’s still strange to see Evan with two bare arms. And for Evan to not have Connor’s name scribbled on him like some five year old got a hold of a Sharpie. Connor is both relieved and misses it.

It fucking sucks. But what doesn’t?

“You didn’t answer my texts last night,” Evan says slowly. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Connor grumbles. He lets his hair fall into his face because it means he has to see less of the world. And maybe it looks scarier or something. He wants to be left alone today. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

He’s not lying. When his body was so cold that he thought he was going to be unable to move, he climbed down from the top of the jungle gym and walked home. The heat in the house made his skin tingle as he warmed up and his mom tried to talk to him but he just shook his head and went up to his room. He pushed everything but his comforter off his bed and went to sleep. He woke up around eleven, made a quesadilla in the microwave, ate it, watched YouTube for four hours, woke up, and stumbled into the car so Zoe could drive him to school.

It hadn’t really occurred to him to check his phone. Wasn’t like he had friends or anything.

Evan chews on his lip. “Okay,” he says softly. “Just like… Um, talk to me? If you need to?”

Connor meets Evan’s eyes and his heart leaps to his throat. Evan needs to stop…all of that. Especially the concerned look in his eyes, like he cares.

Evan is a good actor.

—«·»—

They have lunch hour together on Tuesdays. Usually Connor sits with Evan.

His head won’t stop spinning.

He hides in the back of the library and tries to do the assignment for literature. He reads the same paragraph four times before he buries his face in the pages. Hot tears prickle the corner of his eyes.

Fuck.

He should’ve skipped. He should’ve stayed home. He should’ve done anything else. Other than be here. This is bad, school is bad. The only thing worth it would be Evan, but he’s avoiding Evan because his mind is awful but his mind is right.

Alana gives him a worried look when he sits down in literature. Their class only has fourteen kids, but he still sits in the back in silence unless the teacher asks him specifically a question.

Today, Connor changes his seat.

He sits in the back corner. More isolated than usual. His head hurts, probably because he forced himself not to cry because he hates crying, and his brain keeps twisting into something darker and darker.

He looks up from his arms when a book is put down on the desk next to him.

Alana doesn’t say anything. She just puts her backpack down on the floor and spreads out her pens before she opens her notebook up.

Connor watches her write in her tilted looping letters for a moment before he puts his head back down.

—«·»—

Zoe has rehearsal. Connor walks home.

He doesn’t stop at Evan’s locker. He should. He really fucking should.

If anyone talks to him he’s going to snap. He’s going to break and yell and— he can’t.

He has a plan for when he gets home. Steal a loaf of bread from the kitchen. Maybe the butter. Go up to his room. Sit in bed and eat bread. Pass out. Wake up whenever. Eat. Go back to bed. School? Whatever.

His mom isn’t in the kitchen when he unlocks the door. Good. He grabs the least offensive loaf of bread from the cabinet and a random third of a stick of butter from the last time Cynthia baked and a butter knife from the drawer. He climbs the stairs silently and goes to his room and wishes that he had a door. He pulls out his laptop and opens a random YouTube video and lets it fade into background noise as he eats bread.

Fucking life.

He’s on his third slice when the doorbell rings. Connor looks down at his bed and accepts his fate of a lifetime of crumb filled sheets. The doorbell rings again.

“Mom?” he shouts.

There’s no response and the doorbell rings again.

“We fucking get it,” Connor mutters. He puts down the knife on his desk and climbs out of bed. He takes his time getting to the front door, hoping whoever is there will just go the fuck away. He frowns when he sees Zoe in the window. She meets his eye and flips him off.

“What did you forget your keys?” Connor asks as he opens the door.

“No, dumbass, but you forgot your friend.” Zoe jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward her car. Evan is standing by the passenger side door. “Nice going, dipshit,” she mutters shouldering him roughly as she passes him to get into the house.

Connor glances over his shoulder at her before looking back to Evan.

Evan is just staring at him. He doesn’t look like he’s going to move any time soon.

Conor sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Okay. Okay.

He pulls on his shoes and shouts to Zoe that he’s leaving the door open. She just sort of yells back at him and he figures that’s enough. Then he steps outside and walks toward Evan and, probably, death.

“What’s wrong?” Evan says as soon as Connor gets close.

“Nothing is wrong,” Connor says.

Evan scowls. “I— Come on, I know you better than that by now. We’re— We’ve…” He shakes his head. “I-I thought about it. A lot. I was worried I did something wrong. I went through everything I’ve done in the past two days— the past week. A-and I had nothing. You’ve been acting— Alana came to me asking how you were because of something that happened in lit so just…” He glares at Connor. Connor’s been trying so hard to not think about his eyes. “I told you to talk to me.”

“You aren’t my therapist, Ev,” Connor mutters. “You don’t need to hear this shit.”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it,” Evan says with more confidence behind his words than Connor thinks he’s heard before. “But I told you to talk to me and you— you’re just isolating yourself. That’s not going to help.”

Connor tugs a hand through his hair. “Seriously it’s just— it happens sometimes. It’s not a big deal we don’t have to make into one.”

Evan crosses his arms. “Okay. Fine. If something is wrong, just tell me that. Tell me things are shitty. That’s all you have to say, because I get it. Tell me when you aren’t okay, don’t just be a dick.”

That’s a hell of a promise to make but… “Okay.”

Evan nods and pulls his backpack on. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I just… Figured we should talk than sooner than later.”

Connor looks from the car to Evan. “Do you…need a ride home?”

“I can walk,” Evan says. “I have sch-scholarship essays waiting at home for me. I’m not in a rush.”

“You wouldn’t be bothering Zoe,” Connor says softly. “I’ll take you.”

“I thought…” Evan trails off.

“I know where my license is. Larry isn’t as good at hiding things as he thinks.” Connor turns back to the house. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Connor ducks back inside the house. “Zoe I’m stealing the car!” he shouts, grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door.

“What?!”

He goes back to Larry’s office and digs through the files in the bottom desk drawer until he pulls his license from a manila folder.

Zoe stands at the front door with her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving Evan home.” Connor tries to push past her, but Zoe pushes right back.

“You aren’t allowed to drive.”

Connor holds up his license. “Get fucked.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Did you break into Dad’s office?”

“There was no breaking and I live in this house, so move and let me take Evan home.” Zoe stands her ground. “I’m not high, Zo. And I know how to fucking drive. It’ll be fifteen minutes, the world won’t end.”

Zoe closes her eyes. “I… Just pay attention. Be safe. Don’t crash or anything.”

“Yeah yeah I’ll protect the car,” Connor mutters. “Stop being Mom.”

Zoe grimaces. “Okay. Drive him home. Whatever.” She steps to the side. “Not my fault if Dad grounds you for life.”

“Who cares.” Connor closes the front door on her. Evan looks up from his phone as the door slams shut. Connor holds up the keys. “Get in.”

“When was the last time you drove?” Evan asks, climbing into the passenger seat.

“God it’s been months.” Connor opens the door. He’s going to have to adjust the seat and mirrors and that’s going to piss Zoe off big time. “It’s probably like riding a bike or something.”

Evan nods slowly. “Okay… I think that’s reassuring?”

Connor rolls his eyes as he moves back the seat. “I’m not going to crash.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Evan says honestly as Connor buckles in and starts the car. “The biggest thing I’m worried about is you hitting a curb or forgetting the turn signal.”

“Fuck turn signals.” Connor flicks the turn signal down before he turns right out of the driveway. “Shit.”

Evan laughs.

Unlike Zoe, Connor doesn’t always listen to music when he drives. He’s perfectly fine driving in silence, even though it makes her want to scream. She hated it when he drove in silence, making it a point to always have headphones on her in case he had a day where he wanted to drive without music on.

It gives Connor time to think. Sometimes that’s harder with music on.

As they sit in almost weirdly comfortable silence, Connor glances at Evan out of the corner of his eyes. Evan is playing with the hem of his shirt and staring ahead at nothing.

Connor sighs. “I’m sorry. For today. And yesterday.”

Evan glances over to him. “…thank you. It’s…okay. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

For some reason it’s hard to swallow. Connor clears his throat. “So did you bribe Zoe into giving you a ride?”

“I-I stayed after for a little bit to talk to Alana,” Evan murmurs. “And then we passed the band room and I saw Zoe, s-so I thought…” He shrugs. “She might’ve thought it was weird but she was fine with it.”

“She wasn’t too much of an ass, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Connor adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “You know… She didn’t ask too many questions or anything?”

Evan shifts uncomfortably. “I-I mean… She was— it was fine.”

Connor decides he’ll interrogate Zoe later. “Cool. How’s Alana?”

“Very busy,” Evan says seriously. “More student council stuff.”

“She trying to recruit you?”

“Uh…not exactly.” Connor raises his eyebrows as Evan worries his bottom lip. “She had an idea for a club she wants to start next semester and uh…wants my help with it.”

“You?” Evan winces. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it that way,” Connor backtracks. “I just…you don’t do many extracurriculars or anything so it’s a surprise. Does she want you on the board or something?”

“Yes.” Evan coughs. “She… Yeah it’s, um, I-I don’t know if I’ll do it yet but I… Helping her start it up? I can do that. That doesn’t require much so I’m…okay with that.”

Connor nods. “Cool. I hope it’s…fun.” He ignores the twisting in his gut.

“Did Alana talk to you?” Evan asks suddenly.

Connor glances to him before looking back to the road. “No? Why?”

“Oh she just…” Evan gestures with one of his hands. “At the beginning of the school year we were talking about something and she wanted to talk to you about something and she said she was going to— I mean she had a question for you and I told her that maybe it wasn’t the best idea and, well I mean, she said she was going to ask you anyway so I just wasn’t sure if she ever did or…”

“She didn’t,” Connor says slowly. “What was the question?” He remembers Alana asking him all sorts of questions when he came back to school after his attempt. He also remembers ignoring them. He’s pretty sure there were a few times when he just walked away.

Evan goes quiet. Connor stops at a stop sign and looks both ways, pausing for longer than he usually would because drivers on this road don’t give a fuck.

“She wanted you to tell the student body your story,” Evan blurts out.

Connor is really glad they’re at a stop sign. “What?!”

Evan pulls on the collar of his shirt. “She— Um, she asked if you would be, or if I might be interested in um— Because of the stigma around mental health and suicide that maybe it would— I told her no.”

Connor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” he says after a moment. He opens his eyes and looks to Evan. “Seriously. I don’t… No one else needs to know that shit. My story— no one wants to hear that shit.”

“I think that was her point,” Evan says softly.

Connor meets his eyes for a second and then looks back to the road, pressing the gas. “Not my story,” he repeats. “I don’t want or need that kind of attention.”

“I know.” Evan sighs. “I was really worried that she— Alana can be, um…persistent.”

“Tell me about it,” Connor mutters. He turns into Evan’s driveway. “Here you go, Hansen.”

Evan gives him a weak smile and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks. I’ll text you.”

“I’ll text you back,” Connor promises.

Evan lights up and Connor shoves his heart back into the darkness of his chest.

From: dickbag To: assface we have to talk

From: assface To: dickbag fuc k u

Connor rolls his eyes. He can’t even believe he’s trying but he is and Jared is being Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface right back at you but seriously. today

He leans against Evan’s locker, flipping his phone over in his hands as he waits for a response. He might not give a shit about Jared, but for some reason Evan does, so he’s going to try to fix this. Because that’s what a good person would do.

Connor’s lived too much of his life in the gray zone. Gray thoughts, gray clothing, gray morality— he can do one nice thing if it’ll make Evan happier.

From: assface To: dickbag y should i

From: dickbag To: assface evan

From: assface To: dickbag fuck off where??

Connor rolls his eyes.

“Hi,” Evan says, arms full of textbooks. “Band?”

Connor nods. “Yeah. Something about an audition or something? I don’t know, she wanted time in the practice rooms and I don’t have a say in anything.”

Evan gives him a crooked smile. “I don’t think being here a little early is too bad.”

Connor looks back down at his phone with a shrug.

From: dickbag To: assface computer lab evan will be there for a little bit we can talk after he leaves

From: assface To: dickbage fine but still fuk u

Connor really should’ve just blocked Jared’s number as soon as he got it.

—«·»—

“Jared!” Evan says in surprise when him and Connor walk into the computer lab. “W-what are you doing here?”

Jared looks up from the computer. “StuCo stuff for Lana. I guess this morning the council decided to change some of the info on the posters so,” he gestures to the screen, “here the fuck I am.”

“Doesn’t Alana have people for that?” Connor asks as Evan pulls out his laptop.

“Her people don’t do shit. Does this picture look bad?”

Connor squints at the screen. “It looks like bad clipart.”

“Perfect.” Jared saves the document.

“Sent,” Evan says. He shuts his laptop. “I’ll be right back.”

Connor nods to him.

Jared coughs awkwardly as Evan leaves for the printers.

When Evan comes back with his letter in his hands, he glances between Jared and Connor. “Everything…okay?”

“Super chill,” Jared confirms, clicking randomly on the poster.

“Jared is shit at choosing fonts,” Connor says.

Jared flips Connor off and Evan smiles. Win.

“I have to go,” Evan says, putting away his laptop and pulling on his backpack. “My, um, my mom is actually bringing me today so?” He gestures over his shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Whatever,” Jared says.

Connor glares at him before saying, “Yeah sure. I’ll text you.”

Evan bounces on his toes before he leaves the room.

Connor turns to Jared with a raised eyebrow. “Fucking smooth.”

Jared keeps his eyes on the screen. “Uh huh.”

“You’re a giant asshole, you know that, right?”

Jared pushes his glasses up his nose. “So are you.” He closes his illegal photoshop and spins to face Connor. “Here we are. Two assholes in a computer lab.”

They stare at each other for a long minute.

“You told me to be here,” Jared points out.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Connor mutters. “Okay. I’m..sorry.” Jared whistles. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not sorry I called you a dick because you are a dick. And you’re a bad friend. Like a really shitty one. But I’ll apologize for yelling.”

“That was a horrible apology,” Jared muses. “But fine. I’m sorry I said you were harassing Evan. But I still think what you’re doing is fucking…bad? I don’t know it feels bad. It’s a bad plan.”

“You told us that and still helped.”

Jared spins in the chair before standing up. “Okay, yeah. I did. But honestly I didn’t think either of you would get invested and—”

“What do you mean?” Connor interrupts.

Jared searches his face. “You know…?”

“No?”

He sighs. “I thought this shit would last like a week, okay? And now we’re getting into more long term usage instead of the eight days I had assumed.” He pauses. “You’re using him.”

“Yeah and you pretend to use him.” Connor crosses his arms. “Are we really so fucking different?”

Jared runs his hand through his hair. “Just two guys, being dicks to Evan Hansen. We should probably be better about that, huh?”

“Probably.” Connor holds out his hand to Jared. “Truce?”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Not friends?” he asks as he shakes Connor’s hand. “Okay. Truce.”

#connor murphy #evan hansen #tree bros #convan #deh fanfic #to have a friend #my fics #ayy

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 7 years

Text

Secret Love Song - Harry Styles Mini Series (Part 17)

#16

“What the fuck!” you screamed pushing him off of you and slapping him in the face.

You were about to hit him again when Jess shouted your name. “Y/N! Forget about him, let’s go!” She said.

You knew she was right because the flashes and shouts got even louder and closer. You both got into the car quickly and you floored it as you pulled out onto the street.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” She asked.

“Fuck no, I’m pissed,” you mumbled.

“I’m calling Harry to meet us at your flat,” She said taking her phone out of her purse.

“It’s late,” you sighed.

“I don’t care, he needs to know what happened besides do you want him waking up to pictures of you and dickwad macking?” She asked.

“I can’t fucking believe he did that,” you said. “And how the fuck did he know we were there?”

“My guess this is all Madison’s doing,” she said. “Harry, hey, wait, calm down, we’re fine, it’s just uh, can you meet us at Y/N’s flat? We need to tell you something. He’s on his way.” She told you.

“He’s going to be so angry,” you said.

“But not at you,” she said.

“Have the pictures surfaced yet?” You asked.

‘I don’t think so,” she said scrolling through her phone. “I mean it’s been like five minutes, surely it wouldn’t hit the internet yet.”

“You never fucking know with these people,” you said.

By the time you pulled into the parking lot, Harry was already there. As soon as you parked the car, Harry was there.

“What happened?” He asked quickly.

You were fuming, you couldn’t get the words out, so Jess filled him in.

“We were walking out of the venue when Paps starting snapping pictures of us, some guy grabbed Y/N’s hand and took us to the car. We thought it was a security guard-” she said.

“But it was my fucking ex!” you shouted. “And he fucking kissed me and the stupid ass cameras got every last fucking thing.”

“What?” Harry said as you walked into your flat.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was a fucking set up,” you said. “He wanted to get his fucking fifteen minutes of fame or some shit.”

“Or Madison is trying to make Y/N look bad again,” Jess suggested.

“God, why can’t that bitch just stay out of my life,” you said throwing your shoes on the floor.

Harry sighed wrapping his arms around you. “Baby, I know you’re upset, but try and calm down. This is what she wants to get you riled up.”

“No, what she wants is to ruin my relationship with you,” you said. “She thinks those pictures are going to make it look like I’m cheating on you and you’re going to break up with me or something.”

“Well, she can try all she fucking wants because that’s not going to happen,” he said firmly. “I promise you that.”

“She’s jealous of you, Y/N,” Jess said. “She’s always been jealous of you.”

“And I’m going to do everything I can to not let those pictures get out,” he said.

“You can try, but I don’t doubt Madison finding a way to get them out,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry baby,” he sighed. “I feel this is partly my fault. If it wasn’t for me, there wouldn’t have been a reason to call the fucking paparazzi.”

“God you two are too much alike,” Jess mumbled. “It wasn’t either of your fault’s. Neither of you called the damn paps and you didn’t arrange for some guy to mack on your girlfriend.”

“I just, I’ve had enough of this shit tonight, I’m going to bed,” you said. “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” he said.

“If you two wanna take your frustration out on each other, I’m totally cool with that. I’ve got headphones,” Jess said.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re going to bed, that’s it,” you said.

“Sure,” she said.

You shook your head with a smile and went into your bedroom. You changed out of your dress and Harry got into bed wrapping his arms around you.

“I love you,” he whispered. “We’re gonna figure this shit out and we’re going to make sure Madison and whoever the fuck else leaves you alone.”

“I love you too,” you whispered pressing your lips against his.

The next morning you woke up to the sound of Jess knocking your bedroom door. You groaned getting up from the bed and opening the door.

“Jesus, Jess what?” you sighed.

“Uh, the pictures have surfaced,” she said.

“Damn it,” you groaned.

“But that’s not it,” she said. “Well, that’s not all of it. It’s bad, really bad.”

“What else is it?” You asked.

She sighed handing you her phone. Look at the article that’s pulled up and read the headline. “Harry Styles’ Blogger Girlfriend Follows In Father’s Footsteps as She Cheats On The Heartthrob Pop Artist with Ex” Written by Madison King.

“What the fucking hell is she talking about?” You said. “What does my father have to do with anything?”

“Scroll down,” she whispered.

You looked at her confused but do it, when you see a picture of your father with another woman with the caption. “Y/N’s Father has been seen out and about with a mystery woman while his wife of almost thirty years is nowhere to be seen.”

“This... this... she’s fucking lying. How dare she bring my family into this,” you snapped.

“What’s going on?” Harry said yawning.

“That bitch brought my family into this,” you said showing him the article.

“Y/N, you have to admit that it doesn’t look good,” Jess whispered.

“My father loves my mother. He wouldn’t cheat on her. She probably set him up just like me or it’s fucking photoshopped,” you said.

“Maybe you should call your parents, they still need to know what’s going on regardless if it’s fake or not,” Harry sighed.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said shaking your head.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Harry said. “I’m making some calls right now.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as Harry kissed your head.

“Do you want me in here when you call your parents?” Jess asked.

You nodded and sat on the bed. You grabbed your phone and called your Mom. You knew it was early but it was still odd for the phone to ring that long before she answered.

“Y/N,” she said softly.

“Hey, Mum, I uh... I don’t know if-” you started.

“I saw,” she said.

“I’m so sorry! None of it’s true. I wasn’t cheating on Harry and I don’t even know how or why Daddy’s name got brought into it-” you said.

“Honey, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said.

“Mum what is it?” you asked.

“Things... things between your father and I they haven’t been good for a while,” she said.

“Mum, what are you saying?” You whispered.

“The article... it’s true, at least the shit about your father is,” she said.

“No, no, that can’t be,” you said.

“I’m afraid so, baby,” she sniffled. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”

“W-what?” you said tears welling up in your eyes.

“We wanted to tell you, but -” she said.

“How long? How long as this been going on?” You demanded.

“The affair started over a year ago, I found out a little over four months ago and I filed for divorce the next day,” she sighed.

“You’ve kept this from me for four fucking months!” you said. “And I found out from a stupid article like the rest of the world! If it wasn’t for that, would you have ever told me the truth?”

“Yes, of course! It just we were trying to find the right time,” she said.

“I hate to break it to you, Mum, but there is never a right time for that,” you said.

“I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispered.

“I I can't-do this right now,” you sniffled before hanging up the phone.

You instantly broke down in tears and Jess wrapped her arms around you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she whispered.

“I can’t believe it,” you cried. “My own father. My own fucking father is a cheater. And they both lied to me for four months about this shit,” you cried.

Harry had just gotten off the phone and walked back into the room to see you crying and Jess holding you. You looked up at him.

“It’s true,” you cried. “About my father. He’s been cheating on my mother for a year. They’re getting a divorce.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he quickly sat next to you. “Baby...”

“How could he do this?” You cried. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered running his hands through your hair.

“And now the whole world knows,” you said. “I hate him, I hate him so fucking much! What if their whole marriage was a lie?! He could have been fucking other people the whole time and he finally got caught.”

“Hey, we don’t know that,” Harry said. “You don’t know that.”

“I also didn’t know my parents were getting divorced because of an affair, but it still happened,” you said pulling away from both him and Jess. “I just need to be alone.”

“Okay,” Jess said. She got up from the bed and hugged you before grabbing her bag and leaving.

“I’m not leaving you,” Harry said.

“Please, I really need to be alone,” you cried.

He sighed. “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be in the other room in case you need me.”

You crossed your arms and nodded. Harry got up from the bed and kissed your forehead as you closed your eyes. He walked out of the room and closed the door. When the door clicked, you dropped down to the floor and burst into tears.

A couple of hours passed by before Harry made his way back into your room. He made some tea and brought it to you. You were laying in your bed now and he sat the mug on the bedside table. He brushed the hair away from your face. It hurt him to see you like that. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your cheeks were red and stained with tears. You were absolutely broken.

“I brought you some tea baby,” he whispered sitting on the bed next to you.

You sighed sitting up and taking it from him. “Thanks,” you said with obvious pain and hurt in your voice. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Y/N, love, I told you I wasn’t going to leave you,” he said.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you said taking a sip.

The warm liquid soothed your sore throat. “I thought if I went back to sleep, I’d wake up and it all be a dream,” you whispered laying your head on his shoulder. “But it’s not is it?”

“Afraid not, baby,” he whispered wrapping his arm around you. “I wish it was because I hate seeing you like this. I want so badly to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

“A time machine to go back in time before my Dad stuck his dick in another woman,” you mumbled.

“Trust me, I’d spend all the money in the fucking world if I knew that was possible,” he said.

“I feel like my whole life has been a lie,” you cried. “I looked up to them and I always told myself that’s the type of love I wanted. They always seemed happy and that they were in love, but now I know it was all a lie.”

“I’m sure at one point in time it was the truth,” he whispered.

“How could he just throw everything away like that?” You sniffled. “If he wasn’t happy, why didn’t he just walk away.”

“I wish I knew,” he whispered. “But I know someone who will know...”

“I’m not talking to him,” you shook your head. “I don’t want to see him.”

“I know you don’t, but maybe some of this shit would make more sense if you heard him out,” he said.

“I can’t, not right now,” you sniffed. “It’s still too fresh.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “I’ll be there whenever you are ready.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” you sighed. “You have the tour starting soon and I know you don’t need this shit on your plate.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “This is not your fault. You’re my girlfriend, I love you, and I want to deal this with you because you don’t deserve this and you sure as hell don’t deserve to go through this shit alone.”

You scooted over and sat in his lap as you held your tea in your hand.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. “I can have something ordered in.”

“I’m okay,” you said.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten anything all day,” he said.

“I’ll eat later,” you whispered. “I promise.”

He nodded and held you close to him. You started to tear up again, so you hid your face in Harry’s chest. His arms tightened around you and he rocked you a little as you cried in his arms. He put his cheek to your head as he held you, tearing up himself because all he wanted to do was take your pain away, but he was helpless.

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Secret Love Song

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