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heyyyharry · 4 years

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Chapter 14: To The Boy Next Door

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which they play a game.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

ANNOUNCEMENT: The last chapter was supposed to be released on July 1, BUT I have two final exams on that same week, so I’ll have no choice but to move the schedule forward.

Last My Girl update: July 8, 2020. (July 3: Tumblr preview and full chapter on Patreon).

One year later

“Come in.”

When Asher entered the room, Gemma almost didn’t recognize him. He’d got a beard now, and he wasn’t wearing a suit. If she hadn’t known the charming Asher in the past, she would be so shocked to find out he was the CEO’s son. Too bad she didn’t care enough to wonder what had happened to him after his business had gone bankrupt because his father had refused to finance it. Now he was just a regular accountant.

His eyes went wide when he saw her sitting with his dad in the CEO office.

Hello, Asher, she thought, yet gave him nothing but a polite nod as if they were meeting for the first time.

“Asher, I suppose you remember Gemma?” asked his father with a sigh.

“Yes,” Asher mumbled, his gaze falling to the floor.

Of course he remembered her. Abusers always remembered their victims.

His dad looked from him back to Gemma. Hands folded on the desk, he said, “Gemma is our new COO. I hope you will have no trouble working for her.”

Asher’s head jerked up as if he’d just heard a gunshot. And Gemma, of course, was the one holding the gun.

She relished his astonishment and cracked a smile as she rose from her seat and walked toward him. She extended her hand, but he didn’t take it.

“Working for her?” he asked his dad, who replied with a stern expression.

“Yes. She’s your new boss.”

Gemma broke into a smirk, still holding out her hand in the space between them. Asher’s eyes had grown so big they nearly took over his entire face. “You,” he hissed at her, “I can't believe you weaselled your way into this company.”

“Oh, no.” Gemma frowned pretentiously and dropped her hand down to her side. “I’ve been a shareholder for almost a year. I’ve done more for this company in that short amount of time than you have your whole life.”

He thinned his lips and glared at her, unable to muster a single word.

She hated him but respected his father. And what was better as revenge than making sure she took everything he wanted? First, his father’s affection. Soon, his father’s company.

“I don’t want to make this unpleasant for you, Asher,” her voice dropped so low as she leaned in so only the two of them could hear. “Or maybe I do. So you better be a nice employee, because I wouldn't be sorry to kick you out of here.”

His face dimmed as she stepped away. If there was a camera, she’d take a picture and put it in a frame. Though she doubted this would be the last time she got to see that defeated look on his face.

"See you around, Ash," she said, placing a hand on her hip as she breezed right past him out of the room.

Two interns, a blonde and a dark-skinned girl, rose from their cubicles and rushed up to her as she was heading for the lift.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said timidly. “Are you...our new COO?”

“Y-Yes, yes, I am.” Gemma worked up a smile and the girls giggled to each other like teenagers.

“Congratulations and welcome!” said the dark-skinned one, who said her name was Marie and her friend was Claria. Gemma assumed they were going to fangirl about her brother, but then Marie said, “We love your sister-in-law’s book. We’re such big big fans.”

It took Gemma a second. “Y/N? She and Harry aren’t–”

“Future sister-in-law,” Claria corrected her friend, looking nervously from Marie back to Gemma. “We’ve...heard some rumours. Can you confirm or deny it?”

“I cannot. But I’ll let her know about you girls.”

The girls grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and Gemma could tell they were trying their best not to freak out. She waved them goodbye and hastened into the lift before the door closed.

Her phone buzzed with a new text.

Isey: Lunch? :)

Lunch :) she replied, biting back a grin.

Another notification popped up. A reply from Harry's girl. Gemma rolled her eyes as she remembered lending Harry her phone a couple of weeks ago. He'd changed most names in her contacts and she'd only managed to change back a few of them.

Harry's girl: Thanks for the birthday wish, Gem! (heart emoji)

You're welcome! Is Harry coming home today?

Harry's girl: I hope not. But idk.

We never know. How can you STAND him? Ugh.

Harry's girl: I can't lol.

Harry's girl: Anyway, what was his reaction?

Gemma knew right away whom Y/N was talking about.

Priceless, she responded.

Harry's girl: QUEEN. Make his life a living hell.

Oh I will. Certainly.

The door slid open with a ding, and Gemma tucked the phone into her bag. Her assistant was waiting outside to direct her to her new office. With a smile on her face, she stepped out of the lift and shook the assistant's hand.

She was so ready for this new beginning.

“Good aaaaaafternoon, girlfriend! Are you feeling twenty-two?”

Y/N laughed hoarsely as she blinked a few times to let her vision get used to the light from the windows opposite the bed. “You’re embarrassing,” she said, yawning.

On the phone, Harry gasped. “Did you just wake up?!”

“I stayed up all night talking to you and had a zoom meeting with Laura this morning. Besides, it’s Sunday.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Duh.” She grinned at the ceiling and exhaled. “I’m twenty-two now. I’m like...old.”

“Ouch. Well, aren’t you supposed to get ready for the book signing?”

“Book signing is tomorrow. Bad boyfriend.”

The sound of his laugh made her heart leap. She missed him so much. He’d been in New York for two weeks and wouldn’t be back until next Thursday, which meant she’d have to spend this birthday without him. She wasn’t sure if she should let him know she wished he were here. She really did. But she also didn’t want him to drop everything and fly back to her for only one night. He’d done that before and it'd been romantic, still, she never wanted him to do it again.

“To prove that I’m not a bad boyfriend,” he said, snapping her back to the moment. “I have a surprise for you.”

She sat up straight and whipped her head to the door. “Goddamn it, Harry,” she huffed, “if you tell me you’re standing right outside–”

“No!” He burst out laughing. “No, no, no, I’m still in New York.”

She sighed in relief, but couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

“My surprise is in the pocket of my favourite suit,” he said.

She had no idea what he might have up his sleeves (quite literally). Still, she rolled out of bed, shoved her feet into her slippers, and padded out of the room.

Two years ago on this same day, he’d brought her to the roof of an abandoned building, where they’d watched the night city and eaten his homemade cupcakes. On her twenty-first birthday, they hadn’t been talking. And so this year, she’d suspected that he must have planned something extravagant to surprise her, even though he wasn’t home to celebrate with her. The surprise had come a bit earlier than expected.

She switched on the light in the walk-in closet, which was as large as her old flat. His favourite suit was the one he’d worn on Grammy’s night. Sparkling dark velvet to match the aesthetic of her silvery mermaid gown, which, unfortunately, she hadn’t got a chance to show off to the world.

She stuck her hand into the breast pocket of the jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Found it."

“Go on. Read it,” he encouraged.

“If it says ‘Happy Birthday, smiley face’, I’ll strangle you when you come back.”

A laugh burst right through him. “Your choking kink is getting out of hand, babe.”

“Shut up.” She huffed, unfolding the note. “Should have said I loved you,” she read aloud. “What does that mean?”

“You can ask for my help only once. Call me when you’ve found the fifth clue.”

“Wait!”

But he’d already hung up.

She almost called him back but then decided not to. She didn't want to waste her only chance to ask for help.

Classic treasure hunt, she thought, rereading the sentence.

The prize would be her birthday present for sure. Maybe he’d hidden it in the wood somewhere. A normal boyfriend would just have the birthday present delivered, or leave it on the table or in the garage, not challenge his girlfriend’s two only active brain cells with a children’s game. But Y/N wasn’t a normal girlfriend. And as much as she hated working for something other than her writing, a part of her was excited.

“Should have said I loved you,” she thought out loud, then snapped her fingers and rushed across the hallway to his library.

Two years ago, she’d told him she’d loved him for the first time and received silence in return. In this very room, he’d watched her leave.

She stood in front of the giant bookcase, which he’d had installed a month after she’d officially moved in. Most of these books were from her collection. On a shelf in the middle stood three framed photos of them. Them in Paris. Them with their families on a vacation last summer. Them at her graduation.

She flipped each frame over to check the back, but none had what she was looking for. She tapped her foot impatiently on the carpet while assessing the rest of the bookcase. It didn’t take her too long to notice that one book was upside down.

P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern.

Of course. Of-fucking-course.

She rolled her eyes, feeling a smile stretching her lips as she took the book from the shelf and opened it to the first page. There was a post-it note that said:

Congrats, babe. You’ve found it. Next clue: Where the magic happens ;)

‘Where the magic happens.’ If it wasn’t sexual, the winky face had made sure that it was.

Could it be their bed? Nope. She'd slept there last night.

Could it be the first place they’d had sex?

Could the next clue be inside that car?

She jolted with a start and dashed out of the library, and as soon as she reached the stairs, she suddenly halted.

No. She didn’t remember which car they’d had sex in for the first time, and he’d got a whole collection of cars. It’d take forever to search every single one. That wasn’t the right answer.

Sighing, she stood on the first stair and contemplated the clue again.

They used to play Treasure Hunt when they were younger. There were usually at least five or six clues, and the first three should be easy.

Could it be her flat? Most of their ‘secret relationship’ had happened in her flat. It used to be their secret kingdom. Impenetrable. Disconnected to the outside world. They’d also had their second real kiss outside her door, and she still had until the end of this month before she must return the keys to the landlord.

She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to drive all the way there just to find out she was wrong.

And so she decided to call him.

“Let me guess,” he said as soon as the beeping stopped. “You’re either super impatient or your fairy godmother appeared and helped you find all five clues.”

She rolled her eyes. “Third clue. Is it your car or my flat?”

“My car?” He sounded confused, which gave her the impression that she might have got it wrong.

Her cheeks burnt as she said, “We had sex for the first time in your car.”

“No, not my car, but damn, I should have thought of that.”

“So it’s my flat?”

“Are you sure you want to ask me now?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” he smugly confirmed. “It’s your flat. Now you’re on your own until the final clue.”

“Fuck,” she grunted and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I thought you’d have trouble with this one, too. I mean, we fuck everywhere these days.”

“If my birthday present isn’t worth all this, we won’t be fucking ever again.”

He gasped at the threat, and she could picture him wearing that stupid crooked smile as he told her, “Good luck, kid. I believe in you.”

She found the next clue on Thumper’s lap.

When she’d moved most of her furniture to Harry’s house, she’d forgotten to take the purple stuffed bunny with her. She held it under her arm and scrutinized the pink post-it note, which said:

I cannot believe you left Thumper behind. Third clue: Drunk little deer.

“Drunk little deer? What does that even mean?” Then she looked at Thumper. “Should I kick him in the balls when I see him?”

She made the rabbit nod and burst out laughing at how crazy she sounded. If anyone walked in and saw her talking to a stuffed animal, they would assume she was either crazy or drunk.

Drunk.

She was the drunk little deer. Drunk Bambi.

The answer was the place he'd seen her drunk for the first time.

Andrew recognized Y/N right from the moment she stepped into the pub. He leaned over the counter and shouted for everyone to hear, “Little girl! Good to see you again!”

“Andrew," she smiled and shouldered her way towards the bar.

He eyed her up and down as she slid onto one of the stools. “You look different. I hope you’re not here to drink again. I might have to kick you out.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You look different, too. I like your new hair.”

Andrew rubbed his shiny bald head, scowling at her as she raised a smile and rested her chin on her knuckles. Andrew might look intimidating, especially now without his hair, but he was one of the softest people she’d ever met. He’d been so kind to her during her tough times and even let her haunt his pub day and night until Harry had come for the rescue.

“You’re kind of famous now, aren’t you?” Andrew said. “I’ve read your book. It didn’t suck.”

“You have?”

He lifted one giant shoulder of his, pursing his lips. “My wife made me. She's a big fan. Your boyfriend came two weeks ago and he even signed the book for her. He said he was the one in the story.”

“My boyfriend was here?”

Andrew gave a nod.

The voices in Y/N's head started cheering like she’d just won a wrestling match. It would have been so embarrassing if she'd asked Andrew first and then found out she'd got it wrong.

“Well, did he leave...something for me? A message perhaps?”

Andrew growled as he turned away, and without a word, disappeared through a stained curtain behind him. He came back five minutes later and handed her a green post-it note with an unreadable grimace on his face.

She snatched it immediately. A laugh crackled out of her as if he’d just given her gold.

Hi babe, you’re almost there! My biggest fans (not you) have the final clue. Get back to work.

“He gave this to me when he signed the book,” Andrew said.

Y/N mumbled the words over as she tried to figure them out. Her first guess for ‘biggest fans (not you)’was Gemma and Isaac. But then she got rid of the idea because they had to be at the same place at the same time in order for this to work, and Gem and Isaac were both at work.

Which two people were together right now and were also Harry’s biggest fans?

‘Get back to work.’

Yes. That’s it!

Y/N thrust the post-it note into her bag and rose from the stool. “I’m sorry. This must be weird to you.”

“It’s quite romantic, actually," Andrew said.

“Really?”

“And weird. You two are both weird. What a perfect couple.”

“Gee, thanks.”

As she spun on her heels, Andrew called after her, “Hey, little girl. I’m sorry I said you weren’t a real writer.”

“You said that?”

“You were drunk,” he chuckled. “Anyway, bring your weird boyfriend back sometimes.”

“I will. If there’s free beer.”

“Get out of here.” He shot his finger toward the door, but it was the first time she’d seen Andrew smile with his whole face.

Eddie’s bookshop was busy on most Sundays. Well, it had been busy almost every day since Y/N had credited him in her latest best-selling debut novel.

She entered the shop and was immediately recognized by a group of schoolgirls, who asked her to sign their new copies of her book and questioned her about the story. She recycled the same amiable answers that didn’t give away any more than what they might already know. Since she’d already got used to the attention, the fans didn’t intimidate her anymore.

She took a selfie with the girls and bid them goodbye. Then one of the new employees told her that Eddie and Alice were sorting books at the back. She wandered along aisles until she found them. Eddie was scolding Alice for putting hardcovers in between paperbacks. Nothing got on Eddie’s nerves as much as putting hardcovers in between paperbacks.

“The hardcovers take more shelf-space so you cannot put them there! God, Alice, were you drunk when you were sorting these books?”

“I wish I were drunk now,” Alice said, and her eyes lit up as she saw Y/N. She nearly tackled Y/N to the floor with a violent hug, and Y/N returned with half as much enthusiasm.

“You’re like a Golden Retriever,” Y/N said, pulling back and cupping her friend’s face.

“Happy birthday! I was gonna send you–”

Eddie didn’t wait for Alice to finish as he pushed her aside to step forward, his face brightened like the sun. “You’re here for the clue, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I–”

“We can’t just hand it to you.” That sun-like face suddenly turned serious. “You need a password. What is Harry’s favourite book?”

Y/N arched an eyebrow at Eddie as if expecting him to say ‘gotcha!’ But he only mirrored her expression as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer.

“Seriously?” Y/N scoffed, looking at her two friends. “He’s that narcissistic?”

Alice smirked as she raised a shoulder. “Either you answer or search this entire bookshop yourself.”

“I fucking hate him and I fucking hate both of you.” Y/N rolled her eyes upward and exhaled sharply. “Norwegian Wood.”

“Huh?”

“That’s his favourite book,” she told Alice and remembered Alice didn’t read fiction unless it was compulsory. “Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.”

Eddie looked confused. “He loves Haruki Murakami? His books are misogynistic.”

“Harry’s got a bad taste in authors. But judging from your reactions, I suppose that is not the correct answer, and I should probably break up with my boyfriend because I don’t know what his favourite book is.”

“You do, Y/N.” Alice beamed as she leaned a shoulder against the bookcase. “You’re thinking too big. It’s pretty simple.”

“Shit. Is it my book?” Y/N asked, then pinched the bridge of her nose as Eddie began to smile. “Goddamn it, he’s like my dad times ten.”

“What did your dad do?” Eddie asked.

“He bought a bunch of copies of my book and sent them to our relatives for Christmas. It was pretty embarrassing.”

“Aww.”

“ALICE!”

“Jesus Christ!” Alice covered her ears as she shot Eddie a glare. “I’m standing right next to you.”

“Go get the clue!” Eddie flicked his fingers at her. “Go! Hurry!”

Alice rolled her eyes and flipped him off as she backed out of the aisle. Eddie ignored her and turned back to Y/N, grinning from ear to ear like he was the birthday girl. “Are you excited?”

“Not as much as you are. That’s for sure,” Y/N said and made sure he knew she was joking by giving him a toothy grin.

“I’m not gonna tell you what the surprise is, you know.”

“I’m not asking.”

Eddie’s laugh was high as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “What I can tell you is that you’re gonna love it. Too bad I cannot be there to see your reaction.”

“Trust me,” she said. “You don’t wanna see me scold Harry through the phone.”

Alice returned with a copy of My Girl and handed it to Y/N with a smile that possibly meant, ‘You’re gonna love this’.

Suspicious and somewhat elated, Y/N opened the book to the dedication page.

To Mum, Dad, and the boy next door.

Those were her words. Below was his handwriting: Hi my love :)

Curious, she turned to the first chapter. This wasn’t just another copy of her book, of which she’d got all the different covers at home. With this one, Harry had done the same thing he’d done to her journal. His handwriting was scattered across the pages. He’d underlined all the quotes he’d enjoyed and left comments about them on the side.

Y/N heard Eddie say something about how he would never write in books and Alice immediately shush him for being rude. Y/N never wrote in books, either, but she loved reading Harry’s handwritten notes. It felt like he was reading the story with her. The butterflies in her stomach went wild just from imagining him taking his time writing on each page and grinning at his own jokes. If this was the birthday surprise, she could not ask for anything more.

However, she knew he had to be more extra than this.

And there it was. Proof that this was not the surprise. On the very last page, he wrote:

Meet me where the sky meets the earth.

“Where the sky meets the earth?” she thought out loud and glanced up at Eddie, who responded with a shrug. Alice did, too. Y/N didn’t think they were lying. Harry must have told them what the surprise was, but not the answers to these cryptic messages.

Eddie patted her on the back as he wished her good luck and shooed Alice back to the front to assist the customers. Y/N was left behind to work it out on her own. She leaned against the bookcase, pondering over the words.

Hadn’t Harry said she was allowed to call him when she reached the fifth clue?

She tucked the book under her arm and pulled out the phone from the pocket of her jeans.

“Hi, babe!”

“I’ve got the fifth clue,” she blurted. “What do I do now?”

“I don’t know. Solve it?”

“Yes, smartarse. The answer is, I don’t know.”

“You’re not even thinking.”

“You said you’d help me!”

“I said I’d help you once,” he countered. “And I did. I told you to call me just so I know when you’ve reached the final clue.”

“So you’re not gonna help me with this one?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Well, I can give you a hint. What do all the places you’ve visited today have in common?”

She chewed on her lip, an arm folded over her chest. “They’re memories,” she whispered.

“That’s right,” he whispered back, like they didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation. “This last place is a memory as well. Where the sky meets the earth. Think, kid.”

She pouted. “Can I please get another hint?”

“You don’t get to talk in a cute voice and manipulate me, Bambi,” he sighed. “Fine. Our first date.”

“Holmes Chapel?!”

He said nothing and hung up.

It took Y/N a few seconds, but she believed she’d got the answer.

She took the lift and climbed four sets of stairs to the roof.

Adrenaline buzzed right through her, causing her hands to shake and her heart to pound against her ribcage. The metal was cold against her fingertips as she pawed the heavy door open slowly. It was unlocked.

The cold wind gushed in, blowing her hair out of her face as she stepped into the night. The city of London gleamed before her eyes. Where the sky meets the earth. This was where they could see stars high above and down below.

And there he was. Waiting for her with that smug crooked grin on his stupid face.

“Hi,” he said.

Oh, how she’d missed his stupid beautiful face.

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket and ambled forward, still thinking him being here was too good to be true.

He lifted both hands like a surrendered criminal, both eyebrows raised as he said, “Before you get angry, I can explain.”

“Please do,” she demanded but found herself smiling.

With the wind in his hair, dimples on his cheeks and city light in his eyes, he looked absolutely breathtaking. She couldn’t hate him even if she tried.

Harry exhaled unsteadily through his mouth before mumbling, “Here I go,” and then he was on his knee in front of her.

She didn’t react when he took her cold hand and pressed it against his warm chest. She could feel his heart beating almost in sync with her own.

“Are you surprised?” he asked, chuckling nervously.

She exhaled a quiet laugh and said, “Yes, but also no.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Because I warned you this would happen?”

“Because you warned me this would happen.” Her mouth curved at the corner as she recalled the Oscar night in his LA house, both of them drunk, him on his knee like this, a promise, and how in love she’d felt, almost as much as she did in this very moment.

“Is this too early or too late?” he ventured.

“This is perfect.”

She pressed her lips into a smile, and his green eyes flickered in the semi-darkness. “Well then.” He straightened his back. “Y/N ‘Bambi’ Y/L/N.”

“Yes.” Her voice was so brittle she feared he wouldn’t hear it, her stomach twisted into triple knots, her chest fluttering and her fingers trembling.

He held her gaze as the corner of his mouth arched. “Will you…”

“I swear to God if you’re jok–”

“Marry me,” he blurted, panting as though saying those words had drained all the energy out of him. “Marry me. I want to annoy you for the rest of my life. I want every fight, every laugh, every up and down, every kiss, every touch, everything about you. I will love you until all my teeth fall out, until you finally learn to cook–”

“I’ll never learn to cook.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “Most importantly, I’ll even let you love young Leo a bit more than me, but only sometimes.”

She covered her mouth. What meant to be a laugh came out as a sob.

“I would have written a speech, but I figured you’d roast me for my bad writing, so I’d rather improvise and blame this awful proposal on it being improvised.”

“God, you’re fucking annoying,” she laughed tearily into her hand and he was laughing, too.

Quickly, he got to his feet and tugged her into him. She circled her arms around his waist, her face buried into his chest as she inhaled the scent she’d missed achingly in the last two weeks.

“My girl is such a crybaby,” he said, kissing the top of her head, her temple, her ear, her cheek, her forehead. He kissed and held her until she’d calmed down.

“Yes,” she told him at last, lifting her eyes up to his.

“Yes, you’re a crybaby?”

“Yes, you’re a dumbarse and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life roasting you and yes, I’ll sometimes love young Leo more than you but only sometimes, because you’re the greatest love of my life and I cannot imagine a life without you–”

He stopped her with his lips, his hands tenderly cupping her face as his thumbs moved slowly over her chin, cheeks and jawlines. She’d imagined that their first kiss after two weeks apart would be sexually aggressive and against-the-wall hot, but this kiss was slow and sensual and passionate and full of wanting. It felt like his promise for their future together. One that would last.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #my girl series

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

Text

Sexiled (Part 16/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Monday. I hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe and sane.

So I am excited (but also sad) to say that Sexiled is almost complete. I have the next few parts basically ready for posting. And I should have the story completely written and edited in the next few days. Once I have everything done, I’ll schedule the remainder of the story and I will update the masterlist with the scheduled post dates so you can keep an eye out in case tumblr is eating my notifs. So for now onto the story.

Summary: Girls night and subsequent studying with Steve. Are your friends ever going to figure it out?

Characters/Pairings: Steve x Reader, Natasha, Wanda, Skye

Rating: T

Warnings: Language. Feels? Fluff.

Word Count: 1487

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After an exam, turning in your final writing assignment, and completing your last two labs of the semester you were practically skipping back to your room. Most of the doors on the floor were open as people packed to go home for Thanksgiving. You could hear the laughter coming from your room from the elevator.

“I can’t believe you started the party without me,” you announced before you walked in.

“We didn’t start anything,” Skye called back.

Wanda and Skye were on your bed, and Nat was standing on hers trying to string up the last of what looked like eight strings of fairy lights.

Wanda started to get up, but you waved her off, stowing your bag under your desk.

“Nat, what are you doing?”

“The lighting in this room sucks. And you said you liked the little strand that I had on my wall. So when I found these for cheap I figured why not.”

“And eight strings doesn’t seem like overkill?” you teased.

“Oh be quiet. Hurry up and change. Sweatpants are mandatory.”

“Okay, okay.”

You quickly went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and Steve’s hoodie. When you came back Natasha had gotten the last strand up and the room was illuminated only by fairy lights. It was very calming, almost magical.

“Whoa.”

“You like?” Nat asked with a hopeful grin.

“I love.”

“Good,” Nat smiled as she sat on her desk. “Because I wasn’t taking them down. This took five hours.”

“Oh my god, Nat.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as you crawled onto her bed.

“Worth it.”

“It’s perfect,” you agreed.

A few hours later there were half eaten pizza boxes piled on your desk and you were laying with your head hanging off the edge of Nat’s bed with your legs against the wall.

“What do you think the guys are doing right now?” Skye asked the room.

“Drinking whatever beer Tony smuggled in and playing video games,” Nat snorted.

“Somebody pass the Oreos,” Wanda called from her spot on the floor.

“Here you go,” Skye dangled the pack in front of her face. “Who’s got the Twizzlers?”

“Catch.”

Nat tossed the pack across the room and Skye caught it easily.

“Thank you.”

“So, how’s it going with Barnes?”

Skye’s smile turned soft as she dragged her knees up to her chest.

“It’s good. He’s such a good guy. It’s a nice change of pace from my ex,” Skye’s tone dropped and you stifled a growl.

She had told you all about Ward and all you could say was that he was lucky he didn’t live in the state because you would have gone and kicked his ass.

“You guys are really cute together,” Wanda cooed. “He never smiled this much when he was with Dot.”

Skye blushed slightly, clearly pleased.

“That’s because Dot was sucking his soul out of him,” Natasha grumbled.

“He makes me really happy. And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Are you guys going to make it official soon?” Wanda asked softly.

“I think so. I mean, it’s still early, but it looks like it’s going that way.”

“See, y/n, that’s how it works. You like someone. You go out on dates and then start a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes nudging her shoulder with your knee.

“Oh really? I had no idea. Thanks for clearing that up,” you sassed, earning you a flick on the ear.

“Ow.”

“Come on,” she practically whined. “You and Steve have been basically dating for months. You spend literally all of your time together. You’re even going home with him for Thanksgiving. When are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” you asked coyly.

“Have you?” Wanda asked with knowing eyes. You had to wonder if she somehow knew. She was talented like that.

You considered fessing up.

“There’s no way,” Nat interjected before you could speak. “If she’d told Steve, they’d be together and insufferable.”

You shrugged. Skye was doing an admirable job of suppressing a laugh.

“I’m happy with where Steve and I stand. Isn’t that enough?”

Sweetheart that she is, Wanda smiled and nodded.

“As long as you’re happy. We just don’t want you to miss out on a good thing.”

“I appreciate that, Wanda.”

“But speaking of meeting parents,” Skye started, saving you. “Wanda. I heard a rumor that you’re meeting Sam’s parents this weekend.”

Wanda’s cheeks turned as red as her signature leather jacket. She and Sam had gone public a couple of days after his birthday and you’d been relieved you didn’t have to keep that secret for long.

“Yes. They’re coming up on Wednesday. They’ve invited me and Pietro to join them for dinner.”

“That’s going to be really nice.”

“I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be,” you soothed. “They’re really nice. And they’re going to love you.”

“I hope so,” she sighed.

The four of you stayed up talking until nearly five in the morning, so you didn’t wake up to meet Steve until after noontime. You watched him from the doorway to the study lounge, admiring his focus. When he noticed your presence, he lit up with a wide smile.

“Hey, sweetness.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You pushed off the wall and took his outstretched hand as he pulled you between his legs. “How was guy’s night?”

“It was fun. We played Call of Duty, and Tony managed to sneak in a couple six packs.”

You chuckled at Nat’s accurate prediction.

“What?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“I missed sleeping next to you last night,” Steve admitted as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I did too.”

“Did you have fun with the girls though?”

You nodded happily.

“It was a lot of fun. It was nice to have all of us together for once and just be able to talk. And being done with all the assignments was nice too.”

“Mmm. What did you all talk about?”

You smirked and shook your head. “That is privileged information. Girl’s night code.”

“Oh. Right. Very official.”

“It’s a binding contract. I’m sure you guys have the same.”

“Oh yeah. Of course. I can tell you that the guys did are really rooting for me to ask you out. For the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Mhmm. Tony thinks you can do better.”

You chuckled, “I mean…”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” You leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

He pulled you into his lap, touching your foreheads together.

“You are better than anything I could have dreamed of.”

“Did you tell them?” you asked after a quiet tender moment.

“I thought about it. I probably would have if they’d let me get a word in edgewise,” he rolled his eyes. “At this point I think they just like to hear themselves talk.”

“Wanda actually asked outright if I’d told you how I felt,” you admitted.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“Didn’t get the chance. Nat said there was no chance. She’d think we’d be insufferable if we were together.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“They’re going to be so pissed when they find out,” he chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you grinned kissing him once before extracting yourself and unpacking your books.

You were taking a break between your Chem and Bio lab reports when Steve spoke up.

“Oh, I didn’t get to tell you. Erskine does remember me.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I went to his office hours yesterday to ask about the atomic orbital stuff, and I was the only one there. So after he helped me, I decided to thank him whether he remembered me or not. He did.”

You smiled smugly.

“Told ya.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You were right. Anyways, he said he recognized me right away and he was glad to see me doing so well. He also invited me to see his lab after we get back from break.”

“That’s so cool. I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks, sweetness.”

“Do you feel better knowing he remembers you?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly.

“You know me well. Yeah. I do. He had such a big impact on my life. It’s nice to know that he cares as much about his patients as I hope to someday.”

You rested your chin on your hand listening intently as he launched into a rant about the need for compassion in medicine. After about ten minutes he seemed to realize he’d been ranting.

“Sorry, I.”

“You’re going to be such a good doctor.” You surged forward, cutting off his apology with a kiss. “Do not apologize. You are so hot when you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “You must love when I talk about you.”

“You certainly won’t catch me complaining,” you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.

Tag Lists are Open please send an ask. Strike throughs didn’t work

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#Sexiled #steve rogers x reader #College!AU #Part 16 #steve rogers fic

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 11 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: If you’d like to see a face claim for Briony, send me a message and I will send you a pic.

Another thing people have started doing is asking questions about Morgan and Bee’s relationship - the stuff you don’t see in the chapters. If you have questions about canon, please send me an ask and I’ll answer it. There’s a tag for this: morgan and briony canon

Line breaks also mysteriously disappeared because Tumblr is Tumblr so I guess the stars will have to do to denote a change in scene.

For the first time in a while, Briony was happy.

It wasn’t that she was ever depressed. Most of the time, she was too busy and too driven to feel any other emotion besides determination. The need to get shit done without giving it much thought. She just didn’t have the luxury to feel anything else. Classes still stressed her out, she still hated marking first year undergraduate essays, and she was still poor as fuck. But she was happy. Unapologetically happy.

It was a combination of things. Morgan, obviously, played a pretty big role in it all. She didn’t think she could be this happy in a relationship, judging by her past ones, but it was possible with Morgan. She was doing well in her courses and maintaining a high GPA – she even aced that behavioural economics assignment – and her professors had agreed to be her references and put in a good word for her job applications to the “Big Five” banks. Mason’s various funding grants had been accepted, which meant his PhD was going to continue to be fully funded. Angie had gotten a promotion at Indigo head office, which meant she was pushing less paper and directing others to push the paper she was no longer pushing. Angie also moved up a pay grade, which was always nice. She’d finished watching Schitt’s Creek with Morgan and they had moved on to Kim’s Convenience. The Leafs were playing really well. Morgan had even set a new record for the best five game start by a defenseman in the modern era, passing Bobby Orr, and he was set to shatter all expectations this season. They had celebrated accordingly.

Everything just seemed to be working out.

Even tonight. It was a Wednesday but Bee had done enough schoolwork to be able to attend the Leafs game against the San Jose Sharks. She was glad she did, because the boys ended up winning 5-3, with John and Auston getting two goals each. The team had played really well, and although at some points it looked like the Sharks were going to catch up, Fred put up his wall.

After the final buzzer rang and the stars of the night were announced, fans began to file out of the arena. It became a routine for Bee to file out with the wives and wait in the employee area, near the locker room, where they boys would meet them. She followed Aryne and Christina as the continued to discuss her exam schedule, Christina making sure the Christmas party the Marleau family were hosting didn’t interfere with her schedule.

As Morgan drove through the streets of Toronto, on his now familiar route to Briony’s apartment before he’d turn around and go back to his, he kept her hand clasped in his and in his lap. He would look over to her at red lights, and she’d catch him and smile and laugh, embarrassed, but he’d just do it again at the next light. The Leafs were going on a roadtrip for a week, to Minnesota and Buffalo, so he wanted to make sure he got a good look at her before he left. Not that he didn’t look at her enough.

“Can you drop me off at the Metro at Spadina, actually?” she said as they passed College Street. “I need to pick up some groceries I ran out of.”

“Can’t wait till tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I need milk for my coffee. You know how I think coffee is too bitter without milk.”

He smiled. He learned that early. She made fun of him for how much sugar he put in his, whereas she had weaned off it in the past year. “Okay, fine. I can wait for you.”

“No no no, you go home and you go to bed,” she said. “You need your rest. Metro is like a three minute walk from my apartment. I’ll be okay.”

“Briony.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated, squeezing his hand.

When Morgan finally got to Metro, he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park. Briony gathered her bag and made sure nothing fell out before looking at him. He leaned over the centre console, giving her light kisses. There were many, and only stopped when Briony began to giggle from all of them.

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow right? Before I leave for the road trip?”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, and Morgan leaned in for another kiss. And another. And another.

“I’m gonna go now,” Briony whispered in between one.

“No.”

She laughed, pulling away. “Bye Morgan.”

“One more.”

She digressed. She leaned in one more time and he kissed her, making sure his tongue grazed her bottom lip to leave her wanting more. When she pulled away, she slapped his forearm playfully. “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She gave him a look, opening the door before climbing out. “Drive safe,” she called before slamming it shut. He watched as she walked in, and watched until he couldn’t see her in the store anymore. Licking his lips, he put his car in drive.

***

As Morgan settled into his bedroom, he rushed to take off his suit and change into an old t-shirt he was using as his pajamas. He felt so lazy that he didn’t even hang his suit or fold his pants properly – he just left them flat on the chair before walking into his ensuite to brush his teeth lazily before bed. Eventually, he plugged in his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped the covers around him.

He checked his phone one more time. His lock screen, a picture of Briony sitting on his lap as they both smiled at the camera, opened up to his background: a picture of him and Briony from the fall. They had gone for a walk in Trinity Bellwoods and had stopped under a tree to lay down for a bit. Her head was on his chest, her hair spread out on it, and his arm was around her tightly. It was their sleeping position almost every time they were in the same bed together (besides the traditional spooning), so it was no wonder that they ended up taking a quick nap under the tree. Sometimes he would catch himself staring at his phone just to look at the pictures.

After clearing all his notifications, he set his phone down on his bedside table and closed his eyes. With the hockey schedule in full swing, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. His mind was just as tired as his body these days, and he found his eyes falling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Until his phone rang.

He almost didn’t hear it; he almost thought it was a dream, but he eventually regained enough consciousness to realize it was blasting loudly. He grumbled, turning over to his side and grabbing to answer it. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because he knew the brightness of the screen would hurt his eyes. If it were Auston or any of the guys, he’d murder them.

“Hello?” he grumbled into the phone.

“M-M-M-Mo…” he heard Briony’s voice shake on the other end.

His eyes immediately went wide at the sound of her voice. Why was she calling so late at night? “Briony?”

“M-Mo…”

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating but trying to hide it. “Mo, s-somebody broke into my ap-partment,” she hiccupped. “Somebody b-b-broke in and took all my st-stuff-f.”

Morgan shot up from his bed and threw the covers off his body. “Have you called the police?”

“M-M-Mo, they took my laptop. They took my j-j-jewellery box. T-T-They t-t-took --”

“Briony, did you call the police?” he asked more firmly. His heart was running a mile a minute now.

“Y-Yes,” her voice continued to shake. “M-Mo…they took everything. Even my clothes.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. He rushed to throw on a hoodie he left on his chair and struggled to put on a pair of track pants without falling over. “I’m on my way,” he said quickly. “Are the cops coming?”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a few times. “M-Mo…”

“Did the cops say they were on their way?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, they’ve sent s-someone and he’s j-j-just out-tside now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“M-M-Mo, what am I gonna do?” she cried. “Th-They stole everything. My front window is b-broken a-a-and I d-d-don’t know --”

“Briony it’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

“N-No it’s-s-s n-not.”

“Yes it is. I’m on my way.”

***

Morgan was sure he sped through the streets, probably even ran a couple of red lights, because he made it up to the Annex in record time. By the time he got to her apartment, there was already a cop car with its lights flashing outside. He didn’t even attempt to park his car; he practically left it in the middle of street, behind the cop car, and rushed towards the front door. He noticed the front bay window completely smashed, glass all over the front lawn.

When he opened the door to her apartment, like he had so many times before, he saw her standing with the police officer. She immediately turned her head the second she heard the door open and when she realized it was him, ran towards him. “Morgan!”

She clung on to him for dear life. She began crying again as she buried her head in his chest. It was only then when he noticed the state of the apartment – broken glass near the window; all drawers open or literally taken out of the slot and thrown half way across the room; mud all over the floor from muddy boots; her kitchen cabinets open and her food thrown everywhere. It looked like a tornado passed through. There were two other people in the apartment that looked like they were dusting for prints. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did you see them?” Another head shake.

He noticed the police officer approach him. “My guess is you are the boyfriend.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ms. McTavish mentioned you stay over sometimes. Do you keep any valuables at the apartment?”

Morgan shook his head. “No sir. I…what happened?” Briony had pulled away and was wiping the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“W-When I c-c-came back from the g-grocery store I noticed the w-w-window, and I ran inside and I s-saw th-th-this,” she stuttered out. “I d-d-don’t…I d-don’t know…”

“We are assuming it happened during the period she was absent from the residence,” the police officer said. “I’ll just need to finish writing Ms. McTavish’s statement and record a list of all her belongings that were stolen.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, grabbing at Briony’s hand. He looked around again to see more mess. Her covers thrown off her bed, even the mattress protector gone – clearly whoever did this was banking on the old ‘keep your money under the bed’ trick; her fridge door wide open, contents again spewed all over the floor. He was feeling more and more sick the more he took in. He couldn’t imagine how violated Briony must be feeling.

“My l-l-laptop is the b-biggest thing,” she began. “A-And they t-t-took my c-clothes. Almost all my c-clothes.”

“Were there any items of significant value?”

She shook her head vehemently. “And then my j-jewellery box.”

“Again, any items of significant value? Family heirlooms?”

“No.”

Morgan knew Briony didn’t have much, and he knew she didn’t spend much, but his heart broke when she had to give the officer an itemized list of all the clothes and pieces of jewellery that were stolen and how much she had paid for them. He had $200 dollar shirts and custom suits hanging in his closet, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Briony go above $30 for how much she spent on something. The fact that she could even give the officer an itemized list of every piece of clothing and every little piece of jewellery she had meant something. It meant she knew exactly what she owned – however little it was – and she kept tabs on it all. He wasn’t even sure about that. He didn’t really keep tabs on things like he should. If the same thing ever happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to give an accurate number or descriptions. He could remember some prices of significance, like his $8000 watch or the general ballpark he paid for all his pairs of Jordan shoes, but he could never be specific like she was doing.

“Okay Ms. McTavish. I’ve already made the call for the crew to come to board up the front window and I’m going to be putting a heavy padlock on your apartment door. Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Morgan answered for her quickly.

“Okay. Once the boards are up I’ll file your report and statement. I’m also going to ask your neighbours if they saw or heard any suspicious activity. I suggest you take whatever belongings you can for now, anything of value or significance that perhaps the intruder didn’t take, and I will call you tomorrow to discuss your options,” the officer informed her.

“W-What about my stuff?”

“Pardon me?”

“M-My belongings. What’s gonna happen with finding my s-stuff?”

The officer gave her a concerned look. He looked at Morgan briefly too before taking a deep breath. “Ms. McTavish, there’s really nothing further we can do unless we find the culprit. Usually in these situations the culprit keeps the items or sells them for any value, if they are even of any value. We can look at local pawn businesses in the area, but…”

“So my stuff is just gone again.”

The officer nodded his head once, his face still concerned. “I will try my hardest. Maybe I’ll look in some of the electronic shops for your laptop, but I really can’t guarantee anything.”

The only things left to salvage were Briony’s books. Because of course the thief didn’t take the fucking books. The officer waited for them as she moved in a complete daze around her apartment – no more tears, but her face still stained with them, and with an aura of fear about her. Morgan could see her hands trembling as she grabbed at her textbooks, the ones she was using this semester in particular, and handed them to Morgan. She then looked at her small half bookshelf of only two rows, with all the fiction books she had accumulated from various book sales – the book sales she told Morgan about in one of their first conversations – and looked at him. “Will this fit in your car?” her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Of course. What else do you want to grab?”

“That’s it.”

“Briony --”

“I want to go now.”

“B--”

“Please, Morgan. I don’t want to be here anymore. Please.”

“Come here. Come here,” he outstretched his arms to her, and she began crying again as she nestled into his hug and buried her face in his chest. “It’s gonna be okay baby.”

“Can we p-p-please just g-grab my b-b-books and g-go,” she mumbled into his chest. “There’s nothing else, M-Morgan. N-N-Nothing else is-s-s mine. It all came with the apartment.”

He nodded his head, moving to give her the textbooks she had handed to him. He bent at the knees and picked up the bookshelf easily, all the books still in it. He looked at the officer. “We’re done. You can lock it up.”

The officer nodded his head. “Alright then. You stay safe. I will call you tomorrow for further information.” He locked up the door with a padlock as they left, and waited for the crew to arrive to put up the wood boards on the broken windows.

Morgan carried the bookshelf and placed it into the trunk of his car. Briony, still clutching her textbooks, climbed into the front seat. When he climbed in and started the car, he looked over at her. Her cheeks were fresh with tears, her winter jacket haphazardly put on. He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “It’s going to be okay, Briony.”

She tucked her knees into chest as he drove away from her apartment, her textbooks where her feet were supposed to be. She looked out the window, tears still streaming down her face occasionally. As the city streets passed by her, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within her; an emptiness that felt all too familiar. An emptiness that seemed to follow her for her entire life. She came from nothing, and now she had nothing. She could accumulate, she could amass, but she would always end up empty. The emptiness was not a new feeling, but it didn’t hurt any less just because she had felt it before. It hurt more now because she knew how it felt to be full.

Everything was a blur until she climbed into bed. She knew at some point they arrived at his apartment, and they got out of the car and took the elevator to his place, but she didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything until she got into bed and practically wrapped her body around Morgan’s to feel any semblance of safety. Despite the cold outside and the cold in her body, he felt so warm and so full, and she wanted desperately to feel that too. She knew she wouldn’t – not anytime soon – but it was worth a try. If she couldn’t have it, she could at least feel it.

“Briony…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around her, placing light kisses on her forehead and the crown of her head. “Briony, look at me. Please.” She pulled away only slightly, enough to get a look at his face. Her eyes were red and puffy still from all the tears. “I need to know what happened in your childhood now,” he said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“You said ‘So my stuff is just gone again’ to the police officer.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, please. Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I th-thought I was finally safe,” she hiccupped again, still shaking slightly as Morgan held on to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Th-Th-This happened all the time as a k-kid. All the t-t-time,” she revealed finally, wiping a stray tear away. “Esp-p-pecially when we were between places. Or at the homeless sh-shelt-t-ters. And they’d t-take all my mom’s s-s-stuff. They’d take m-my st-stuff too. Anything they thought was of value. Th-That’s why I always ended up w-with n-n-nothing. And that’s w-why we’d always end up with n-nothing. I was always s-so s-s-scared. We’d always have to st-start from s-s-scratch.”

In-between places. Homeless shelters. They’d take my stuff. Starting from scratch. Morgan felt sick to his stomach. This had happened to her before. Often. As a fucking child. As a child with an alcoholic mother who had no will to protect her. With a mother who had no will to attempt to make their situation better. How somebody could create that environment for a child; how someone could be complacent in making a child that scared; how someone could not care about their child to that degree, Morgan would never be able to understand.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Morgan said. “You’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”

“She’d never t-tell me everything was going to be okay because sh-she knew it was never going to be ok-kay,” Briony continued, and Morgan knew she was talking about her mother. “And when I finally l-left I thought everything was going to be okay.”

“I’ve got you now. I’m here for you now. It’s going to be okay.”

“N-No it’s n-n-not,” she shook her head, unable to believe him. “M-My laptop’s gone, I have no c-clothes, I didn’t even have m-m-much to begin with and now I have n-nothing again and-d- I --”

“Briony, no, no,” Morgan repeated, squeezing her tighter. “You have me. You have me. You don’t have nothing, you have me. I don’t want you going through this alone. You can’t go through this alone. Because you’re not alone anymore.”

She buried her face in his chest again, unable to cope with his words as tears streamed down her face. There was too much emptiness, too much pain. She could only cry herself to sleep, and Morgan, heartbroken, could only listen, his heart breaking with each passing sob, each passing tear he felt wash his skin, each passing tremble of her body.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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lifeorbeth · 7 years

Note

will you ever continue/finish the barista au?

Here it is. We’ve made it to the end. And, boy, was it about time…

Installment #74

[Tumblr Links] [AO3]

Cosima’s mind is focused entirely on the exam. She’s had her morning coffee, did her pre-final cram session over a scant (but necessary) breakfast of two-day-old pastries from work, and made it to the exam site with a few minutes to spare for exchanging panicked looks with her classmates. And then, after the directions are given and the exams hit the desk, it’s silent.The kind of muted shuffling of papers and scratching of pencils that is only truly possible in an exceedingly difficult class. Cosima calls forth images of reactions and processes from the cheat sheet she’d spent the past few days perfecting. But it’s still a difficult thing. She spends half of the exam second-guessing herself, her eraser worn down to a nub as the two hour mark passes.

Despite the late time, Cosima is one of the first students to finish. She learns later that most students were still scrawling frantically in increasingly illegible handwriting right up until (and slightly after) the professor called time. As soon as she leaves the lecture hall, Cosima feels a weight drop free of her chest.

Only for another one to appear.

What on earth will she do about Sarah? The semester is winding to a close (she has two more finals the next day, and then she returns home for the summer), and Cosima isn’t sure where they stand. But… finals have to take precedence, at least until tomorrow.

Cosima turns in her last exam, retreats to her (empty) dorm room and finishes up the last of her packing. She’s been procrastinating going to see Sarah, or even attempting to communicate with her through Beth. She’s at a loss and, if she’s honest with herself, still unbelievably angry. As she walks to work for the last time for the semester (she can’t believe she didn’t request off for finals week), she can’t help thinking about the first shift she had with Sarah, all those months ago, and all of their various escapades since (most of which taking place in that tiny bathroom).

As she treks through the city, her irrational anger eases slightly. It’s going to be a good last shift - Max already promised her pizza for her last day - and she and Sarah will patch things up and figure things out.

It’s the beginning of tourist season; work is blissfully busy. She’s cranking out drinks like there’s no end in sight (though their 7pm closing time is creeping ever closer). Small soy vanilla latte. Large iced caramel macchiato (x17). Medium green tea lemonade. Small almond milk chai. Drink after drink after drink. She’s been experimenting with a few different latte art forms, so she practices those, nailing the occasional tulip (three hearts stacked one on top of the other) and failing miserably at the swan (which tends to look demonic or like nothing at all).

Her phone in her pocket stays still, silent, and notification-free.

At 7pm, just before the doors close, the pizza guy arrives. Their shift-long rush had ended at around 5:30, and they’d been closing ever since. The store is almost ready for the end of the night. They just have to wait the obligatory ten minutes after the posted closing time.

At 7:08, Sarah arrives, Beth trailing in her wake like a distraught hound. Max grins at both of them, not taking in their bleak expressions, and invites them both to stay for pizza. Beth smiles and graciously accepts, locking the door behind them.

Sarah forces a twitch of her lips in response to Max’s invitation, and the four of them sit at the big community table by the front window, Cosima taking care to lower some of the lights so passersby know they’re closed. The conversation is light, work-related or having to do with Cosima’s upcoming summer vacation, but Sarah’s body language is making the pizza turn to tar in Cosima’s mouth.

When Max grudgingly gives up her place at the table to finish with the closing procedures (”Don’t you worry about it, hon, I’ll finish up. It’s your last day, after all.”), Beth and Cosima both swivel in their chairs to face Sarah.

“I went and saw S today.”

Cosima’s gaze flickers to Beth, whose face is impassive. “What happened?”

“She wants me to make the decision for myself,” Sarah continues, her pallor adopting a slightly gray tinge. Noticing Cosima’s mouth opening, presumably to ask which decision, she adds, “If I’m going to keep it or not.”

Cosima’s mouth shuts, her teeth closing with an audible click. She occupies herself with another bite of pizza to give herself time to think. To keep it? To give it up for adoption (like Sarah herself had been)? To… abort? Cosima’s stomach clenches. None of the options would be easy.

“And what do you want?” Beth prods as the silence lengthens past acceptable.

Sarah shrugs.

“What about the father?” Cosima blurts.

“Not in the picture,” Sarah answers firmly, coldly. “He doesn’t need to know shit.”

Max finally emerges, her grin slipping at the sight of the three college-age girls and their stormy expressions. “Everything alright?”

Beth is, as usual, the first to brighten. “Fine. Me and Cosima are just tired - finals all week; you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Cosima adds, “I had a particularly grueling one yesterday; my brain’s, like, a gray matter smoothie right now.”

“Well,” Max says, “take the rest of that pizza home with you and celebrate the end of brain-smoothies for another few months, alright?”

Cosima nods. “Thanks, Max.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Beth takes the pizza box and leads the group out the door as Max locks it behind them. Max turns a corner and the three of them are left alone again.

“I fly home on Friday,” Cosima says, picking up the dropped thread of conversation.

They all appear to be thinking about how far off California is, how far removed Cosima will be if the other two remain in town.

Beth suddenly veers off onto a side street. When Sarah and Cosima pause, she explains, “Shortcut. I’ll meet you at home, Sarah.” She hands Cosima the leftover pizza and smiles. “I’ll see you sometime before you leave, Cosima.”

And then she’s gone.

Sarah leans against the wall, raking her fingers through her hair with a faint chuckle. “Gotta give her some credit,” she says, jerking her head in the direction of Beth’s hasty retreat.

Cosima steps cautiously closer to Sarah, trying not to trap her but also feeling an undeniable pull to be closer. Sarah snatches the box and tosses it onto the pavement until there’s nothing between them but everything. Cosima takes another step.

Sarah’s lips are warm and her breath smells like pepperoni (not altogether unappealing). Her hand curls into a fist, clutching the front of Cosima’s shirt and undoubtedly wrinkling the fabric. She pulls Cosima closer, crushing their bodies together.

When they finally, slowly, ease apart, Sarah gives her the shadow of a smile. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I won’t do anything stupid.”

Cosima’s flight is at 4pm, and she’s shoving the last of her possessions into a suitcase. Yesterday, she, Sarah, and Beth stored all of her non-essentials in Beth’s basement for the summer. Now it’s just remembering to pack her toothbrush and getting all the little things she might have missed from the cabinets and drawers (her roommates aren’t leaving for another few days).

Someone begins pounding on the door, surpassing knocking altogether in favor of a literal clamor. Cosima, startled into dropping her calculator (watching it skitter under Julia’s bed like it’s fleeing the racket), turns cautiously towards the door. The pounding continues as she peers cautiously through the peep-hole to find Beth, magnified in unflattering fish-eye, on the other side of the door. Cosima yanks the door open.

Beth’s hand drops to her side, chest heaving. Her forehead glistens as if she ran all the way from her townhouse to the dorm (and she’s certainly not wearing running-friendly clothes this time). As soon as she opens her mouth, Cosima already knows what she’s about to say.

“Sarah’s gone.”

#punky monkey #Cosima Niehaus #Sarah Manning #Beth Childs #coffeeshop au #Barista AU #OB AU #OB fic #the end of an era #Anonymous #cloneversations

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