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goldensstateofgrace · 3 years

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- Love Along The Way- Chapter I

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Series Summary: Reader joins the band in writing songs for their third album (Youngblood) and love finds her along the way.

Chapter Summary: Y/n is working in the studio when Calum walks in on her writing ‘Babylon’ and it goes from there.

A/N: SURPRISE BESTIES!!! IT’S HERE!! AHH i’m so happy with this chapter!! I hope you all love this series as much as i love writing it!! All I am asking is that you give me your patience between chapters because i am a slow writer and i’ve been going through a hard time mentally.

Warnings: talk of cheating, mom reader, heartbreak, cancer ( not in detail), lmk if i missed anything!

Word count: 6k

I hope you guys enjoy!! I worked very hard on this and I’m super proud of it!!

Happy reading!! - G

You’d had these lyrics stuck in your head, replaying on a loop for a while now, but hadn’t had any time to actually get them down on paper.

You weren’t going to lie, this last year has been a clusterfuck. From Easton breaking up with you, basically telling you he found someone else and that he wants nothing to do with you or Elijah, to not being able to write because you’ve been transitioning Elijah into preschool (he was not having it.) It was safe to say it had been a very rough year for you.

When you did sit down and try to write, nothing would come to mind. All of your anger and heartbreak were there and ready to be used to make beautiful music others could relate to, but you just couldn’t come up with anything. Well, besides those lyrics, it was a longshot trying to come up with anything for that either.

Maybe it was still too fresh, and maybe you were still heartbroken, but you just needed to do something besides sit in bed wallowing in your self pity.

Of course, Elijah didn’t know what was happening. He just knew ‘daddy’ left and that he hasn’t been back. You didn’t have the guts or the courage to break his heart by telling him ‘daddy’ wasn’t coming back. He was three, he wouldn’t understand, but it also broke your heart all over again when he asked in his tiny curious voice ‘da-ddy?’

What were you supposed to say, “I'm sorry baby, but ‘daddy’ doesn’t love us anymore and he’s not coming back?” No, you weren’t going to do that to him.

But as you sit there on the dark studio couch, the lyrics on the tip of your tongue, it's like you can’t get anything out. You have them right there in front of you, your black bass guitar sitting in your lap as you strum the bass line softly and hum along until you finally try and sing out the lyrics.

“We said we’d both love harder than we knew we could go,” you sang softly into the empty room, thinking back to nights when you laid next to Easton, talking about how much you loved each other and how neither of you would ever stop because you loved each other more and more everyday.

“But still knowing when to let go- no” you shake your head, not liking how that sounded. “But still the hardest part is knowing when to let go” nodding, you scratch out your previous lyrics and replace them before you go back to picking at the cords, finding where you left off.

You were so focused on the lyrics, mumbling to yourself and scratching out lyrics and replacing them you didn’t hear the studio door open.

You were struggling on a particular verse, mumbling to yourself as you read off the lyrics written in what looks like chicken scratch in the notebook layed out in front of you.

“You wanted to go higher, higher, higher, we-” but you stopped, stumped on what should come next. You sing what you already have out, trying to come up with anything but fall back into the couch cushions groaning when you don’t.

“We burn too bright, now the fire’s gone, watch it all fall down” a voice sings out, startling you, and you let out a gasp. Looking up at the tall curly headed man standing at the door, your brows furrow. You were supposed to have this studio for two hours. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, and a ‘The tonight show, Starring Jimmy Fallon’ gray shirt. A pair of Vans covered his feet and tattoos covered his arms.

“Just thought I'd suggest something that came to mind,” the accented man voices, walking down the small step from the door and down where you are. You watch as he takes a seat on the small black loveseat against the wall across from yours.

You close your eyes and sing the words in your head, strumming the bass as you do. “Thanks, that’s actually really helpful,” you tell him, writing it down. “How long were you standing there?” you ask him, looking over his dark curly hair and down to his brown eyes that look over you just as you are him.

“Just a minute or two. Didn’t expect anyone to be in here, the band is supposed to have booked it for a few hours today.”

You look down at your watch hearing his words and gasp at the time.You were almost twenty minutes late to pick up Elijah from preschool.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time” you tell him, quickly placing the bass back on its stand in the corner next to the couch and packing your notebook and music sheets in your bag.

“It’s ok, happens to the best of us,” his deep accented voice carries towards you as you see him shrug his shoulder out of the corner of your eye. “I’m Calum by the way,” he introduces himself, holding out his hands as you move to walk past him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n and also very late to -” you hesitate, not wanting to tell a stranger you just met about your son. “ To a dinner” you finish, shaking his hand before walking around him and to the door.

Your hand is on the handle and pulling it open, before you hesitate, awkwardly turning over your shoulder to say, “It was nice to meet you, thank you for the lyrics,” you smile at him.

He nods, sending you a friendly smile. “Any time”.

You watch his eyes roam over you before you wave and head out, a smirk playing on your lips.

Quickly, you make it to your car, driving 10 over the speed limit and making it to the preschool near your house in record time. You run up the sidewalk, signing Elijah out at the front desk before making your way down the hall to his classroom.

He’s playing blocks with two other kids who happen to be siblings, Avery and Jase, not even paying you any mind, too engrossed in building a tall tower just for it to fall down landing all over the play mat.

“Elijah, mommy’s here,” his teacher, Miss. Rachel, calls him when she sees you in the doorway. You watch as his head quickly turns your way, a bright smile spreading across his chubby cheeks.

“Mommy!” he squeals, standing to his feet and running to you. His small arms wrap around your thighs, his cheeks squished as he looks up at you with his bright smile.

“Hi baby! Did you have fun today?” You smile, squatting down to his level and squeezing him to your chest as you place kisses all over his face.

He nods against you, pulling back as he tells you all about how he painted you a picture but that you had to wait to see it because it had to dry overnight.

“I can’t wait to see it, baby! We’ll have to hang it on the fridge” you tell him as you grab his bag off the hook, telling him to go help clean up the blocks and a few cars that were laying out when you see that the parents of Avery and Jase are also here.

When he’s all done you pick him up, placing him on your hip as you walk out to the car, his head resting on your shoulder as his eyes fall heavy. You know he’ll fall asleep the minute you start driving.

You load him into his car seat and buckle him in before heading down the street, taking a few left turns and passing tall, two story gated houses before you pull into your own gated driveway. You bought this house with Easton, but only you signed the mortgage, so it was easy for him to move out. No need to sign paperwork or go to court. You’re so thankful for that.

You wanted a safe neighborhood for Elijah to grow up in, and this is it. You moved in when he was a newborn, you did have to sign an NDA because some celebrity lived in one of the houses across from you, but you'd never seen them so you didn’t know who it was.

As you expected, when you went to grab Elijah out of his car seat he was out like a light, his mouth open as he rested the side of his tanned forehead on the side of the padded car seat.

Smiling softly at his sleeping form, you gently unbuckled him and rested him on your chest as you walked into your house and to the couch. You had a net that attached to one end of your couch that stopped about mid center of the cushions to stop him from rolling off. He doesn’t roll around in his sleep often, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. You place him behind it and lay his favorite blanket over him before you walk into the kitchen to start on dinner.

--------

It’s been a week since you ran late in the studio and Calum walked in on you. For some odd reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had barely even talked to the guy but yet he was stuck in your head. His lyrics were stuck, replaying in your mind. He had only stood there for a minute or two, but yet the lyrics he sang went so well with yours.

You were back in the same studio today, placing the finishing touches on the lyrics before you recorded the demo for it and eventually sold it to an artist or band to make their own.

You look up, your brows furrowing when you hear loud laughter out in the hall, but you brush it off and finish setting up your computer on the panel so you could record the demo when you were done with the lyrics.

Standing, you make your way into the booth, setting up a stool and pulling the bass guitar and it’s stand into the booth as well. You didn’t hear the door open, or the four laughing men walk into the room until you go to step back into the studio where the panel is.

Your brows furrow when your eyes meet Calum’s brown ones, his face showing shock before it turns into a bright smile as his cheeks scrunch up. It reminds you of Elijah’s. You know you weren’t late to pick him up or running over your studio time because you booked the studio until lunch; it was only 10:30am.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Calum jokes with you, his bright smile making something flutter in you.

“But this time it’s not my fault,” you tell him, smiling and looking at the three other very tall men standing behind him.

The tall blonde with blue eyes and curly hair that ends at his ears smiles at you, showing off his dimples, “I’m Luke, it’s nice to meet you.” he introduces.

You smile politely. “It’s nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n.”

“Oh we know,” the red head chuckles. His hair is clearly dyed, but it suits him. His smile is bright and contagious. “Cal over here couldn’t stop talking about you and how amazing of a songwriter you are. I’m Ashton,” he tells you, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You quirked an eyebrow up in Calum’s direction. “Is that so,” you tease, watching as his cheeks tint a shade of pink while you shake Ashton’s hand.

“Oh yeah,” the shorter blonde one speaks up. “He even looked you up, wanted to know if you were selling that song you were working on. I’m Michael, but you can call me Mikey.”

“Well you’re in luck, I was just about to record the demo for it. But if you’re interested you can have a look at the finished lyrics,” you tell them, pulling out the pages of printed lyrics from your bag.

They all nod, sitting down on the couches. You hand Calum the papers, smiling down at him before you take a seat at the panel, watching as they all huddle around Calum to read the lyrics.

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s’ and ‘fuck that’s good’ sound as they finally put the paper down and stare at you.

“So, you like it?” you ask.

“Do we like it?” Ashton asks incredulously, looking at the boys and shaking his head in a way that says he can’t believe you asked that.

“Yeah, y/n. We like it.” Calum tells you. “We're working on our third album right now and I think it would be great to add it to the album,” he says, looking at the other guys as they nod along in agreement.

“That’s great, we can sign all of the paperwork soon.” you say, excited you don’t have to record the demo now. It’s always the hardest part. “I wrote a bit of a bass line, but nothing else so do whatever with it.”

“We actually have something to ask you,” Ashton says, nudging Cal in the arm. Cal glares at him with a look like ‘knock it off’.

“We were talking after I played some of the other songs you’ve written.You’re an amazing songwriter and we wanted to know if you wanted to help us write our album?” he asks, a bit shyly you notice.

You’ve never written with someone or a band, not because you didn’t want to, you’ve just never had the opportunity. The only reason you would even consider turning this down was Elijah; you couldn’t take this opportunity if it was going to keep you from him.

You weren’t really keen on telling people you barely knew about your son, but if you wanted to work with them and still have enough time for Elijah they needed to know.

“Look,” you sigh, watching their shoulders deflate a bit and their hopeful expressions drop a tad. “I would love to, but you need to know I have a 3 year old son, and I can’t have this taking me away from him. I promised myself when I got pregnant that I would always choose him over anything. Even if it is my dream. So,” you prompt, “if we can work around me having time with him then I’m in.”

They all assure you that they’d help you make time for him. Ashton really hit home with you when he tells you, “I totally understand you wanting to make time for him, I grew up with only my mom and my two little siblings. We’ll make sure you get time with him.” he smiles softly at you, a knowing but sad look in his eyes.

You smiled at him softly, thanking him and the guys, “I grew up with only my mom too. It was hard, but she was the best mother and role model. She was the strongest woman I know.”

“Was?” Calum asked softly. Looking at you with gentle but curious eyes.

You nod, smiling sadly. “She passed away a year and a half after Elijah was born. Breast cancer. It was really hard.” The memories come rushing back, and tears well up in your eyes, but you push them down, not wanting to cry.

You all talked for a while, working out when you were available and what times it would be good to meet at the studio. It was when you were all packing up that Ashton proposed a chill night. “We should all hang out and have a night where we get to know each other better, drink and just talk.”

There was a chorus of agreements, but when you hadn’t said anything they all stared at you waiting for your answer.

“That actually sounds like fun, I'll be there. Just let me know a time and place,” you tell them smiling. You haven’t had a night to yourself since before Easton left, so you were long overdue.

Calum offered to host it at his house, before you all exchanged numbers and left for the day. You planned on picking up Elijah early and taking him out for ice cream. It was his favorite treat and it was pretty hot today, so you decided it was a good day to indulge.

You were just pulling up outside of the preschool when your phone vibrated in the cup holder next to you. Pulling it out, you see the message notification reading ‘Calum Hood’ swiping it and unlocking your phone the text pulls up.

That should work for you, Elijah has been going to sleep around that time and you should be able to get Jessie to come over and watch him for a few hours while you’re over there. His address sticks out to you, not because you thought you’ve heard of it before but because it was basically your address just a few numbers off.

Maybe he’s why you had to sign the NDA. He most likely has had fans coming to his home and waiting around to even get a glimpse of him in the past and didn’t want this address to get out to the public.

Quickly sending him back a text, you put your phone back in the cupholder and go in to grab Elijah.

------

The next day you were up and finishing off the last ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for a late breakfast. You were surprised Elijah stayed asleep past 8am, it was currently almost 11am and you were just about to go check on him and tell him breakfast was ready when he came padding around the corner rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Well good morning little man,” you smile down at him, placing blueberries on his ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for eyes, chocolate chips for the mouth and a blackberry as the nose all adhered with whipped cream. Elijah was allergic to strawberries, or otherwise you would have added those in somehow.

You woke to a message from Calum, replying to your message from last night. It was only sent about forty minutes before you woke up, but you didn’t see it until you were in the middle of making breakfast.

You typed out a reply with one hand while flipping a normal round pancake for you and sending it.

You couldn’t figure out why you were smiling. He was a very attractive man, nothing like the guys you’ve dated in the past. Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to him. He’s not like the other guys who have treated you badly in the past; he’s nice and caring and didn’t run the second you mentioned you had a son.

When you and the guys had been talking yesterday in the studio he asked to see a photo of Elijah. He told you how adorable he was, and how he looked just like you. Calum seems to be such a genuine and down to earth guy and if you weren’t careful you would fall for him. And hard.

Carefully, you cut Elijah’s pancake up in little bites for him to eat, and pour a small amount of syrup over his and yours.

You watch as he uses his green plastic fork. He has his mouth wide open the whole time as he carefully brings it up to his mouth.

You cheer and kiss his cheek happily when he looks up at you excited when he got it in his mouth without dropping it.

“Look at you! You don’t even need mommy anymore, you're such a big boy!” you smile down at him, taking a bite of your own pancake. He laughs his small contagious laugh, picking up another piece of pancake.

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something” you say to him, making him look up at you with his wide brown eyes, his fork just at the entrance of his mouth.

“T-trouble?” he asks you over his chewing, still looking up at you.

“No, baby,” you chuckle, wiping the corner of his mouth where there was a bit of syrup threatening to drip down on his pj’s. “You’re not in trouble.”

“But I have a big job.’ you tell him, “ A band asked me to help them write music for their album, so it might not always be me picking you up from daycare, it might be Miss. Jessie sometimes, is that ok?”

He nods excitedly. “Yeah! Mi-miss Jessie is nice to m-me!” he stutters a bit as he gets excited.

“Okay, also, i have a friend and he invited us over to swim! Do you want to go swimming?” you ask him as you sip the last of your coffee before eating the last bit of your pancakes.

“Yeah!” he shouts. He’s been taking swimming lessons since he was two, he knows what to do if he falls into the pool. He loves the water too, he's a little fish when it comes to the water.

You both finish eating and while you rinse off the dishes and place them in the dishwasher Elijah runs into his room screaming excitedly about going swimming. You laugh, shaking your head at his antics before following after him when you’re done loading the dishwasher.

You change his diaper into one of those swimming ones with cars on it, before pulling a pair of yellow swim shorts over the diaper. When you have him changed, you pack his diaper bag with a change of clothes, an extra swim and regular diaper along with sunscreen and his yellow bucket hat.

You double check you have everything before you put his sandals on and bring him into your room so you can change into your blue bikini. It had high rise bottoms and the cups actually covered all of your breasts. You throw on a white cover up before sliding your own sandals on and heading out.

Since his house is literally one house down from yours and across the street, you decide to just walk over.

The sun was beating down on you as you walked out of the front door and locked it behind you. You text Calum that you’re on your way over before putting your phone in the diaper bag and heading down your driveway.

It only takes you a minute to walk down the sidewalk and cross the street to his house. Checking your phone to see if he messaged you back when you’re outside the black gate, he did, telling you the gate was open and just to come in.

You push open the gate, closing it behind you once you’re on the other side. There’s a black range rover parked in front of the open garage where you heard what sounded like an air pump.

Walking towards the garage and around the black SUV, you see Calum’s familiar dark curls as he kneels on the concrete blowing up a small turtle pool floaty.

“Hey,” you greet Calum as you place Elijah down on his feet and squat behind him, pulling up his yellow shorts from where they fell down on the walk over.

Looking up, you’re greeted with that bright white smile you’ve seen a few times at the studio but never fails to warm your heart.

“Hey, I'm glad you guys could come!” Calum greets you, plugging the hole on the floaty before he turns off the air pump. He stands up just to walk a few steps in front of you and kneel down to Elijah’s level. “It’s nice to meet you Elijah, I’m Calum,” he introduces himself sweetly as he smiles down at your son.

Elijah giggles, turning into you as hiding his face on your leg. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you chuckle, running your hand over the back of his dark hair. You smile up at Calum, his face showing nothing but happiness and eyes lit up with pure adoration.

“Can you say hi? Say, ‘Hi Calum’” you whispered in Elijah's ear, chuckling when he shook his head and held on tighter to you.

“The tickle monster is gonna get you,” you sing out, your hands unwinding from him and to his sides where you tickle him. Elijah lets out his high pitched laughter, giggling at you to stop as he tries to squirm out of your hold.

“Hi!” he squeals loudly and you stop tickling him. Elijah turns around to face Calum, smiling up at him as he says, “Hi, Ca- calum.”

“Hi, buddy. Are you ready to go swimming?”

Elijah shouts out a ‘Yes!’ throwing his hands in the air and singing the song he was singing this morning about going swimming.

“Sw-imming swimm-ing i going swimming” he shouts, causing you and Cal to break out in laughter.

-----

Calum was amazing.

He was so sweet and caring with Elijah. Playing the same game over and over for almost an hour just to hear Elijah’s loud laughter.

Catching your three year old over and over when he learned it was okay to jump into the pool and dunking him when he caught him just to throw him a few feet away in the water.

Elijah’s loud laugher reverberated around the backyard and the trees that were planted against the walls encasing the closed off area. You felt pure joy at hearing his laughter. You knew he was feeling down with everything that’s happened with Easton, and hearing his laughter reminded you just what you have to live for, what’s waiting for you on good days and bad.

Elijah is your whole world, your little sunshine, and you couldn’t imagine life without him.

Looking over at the pool where Elijah and Calum were splashing each other, big contagious smiles spread across their faces and laughter flowing from their chests, you can’t help but smile. Watching them warms your heart.

You were sitting on a couch in the shade next to the pool, Duke in your lap sleeping peacefully until Ashton’s loud voice invaded the bubble you all had been wrapped up in for the last four hours.

“Hey, why wasn’t I invited?” he fake pouts as he stands in the doorway of the sliding glass doors. His hands rest on his hips as his eyes flicker around to all of you.

“Thought you were with Kaykay,” Calum calls over to him, shrugging as he holds Elijah to his chest. That makes your heart flutter, seeing how tightly he holds him and how Elijah wraps his arms around Calums neck, a huge smile playing on his face.

“Again,” Elijah giggled out.

“Again? Ok,” Calum chuckled, throwing Elijah up in the air, his contagious laughter ringing out before he fell into the water below. You watch as Elijah swims to the surface,wiping his face of water and calling out ‘Again!’

Time flew by, because the last time you checked your phone was when you all sat down to have a bit of lunch around two, and it was now almost four thirty.

Ashton made his way over to the long outdoor couch you were sitting on and took a seat in the spot next to you.

“Is that Elijah?” he asks you softly, his eyes trained on Calum and Elijah who were spinning in the water before Calum launched your son in the air again as he let out a squeal of happiness.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “That’s E. He’s a handful.”

Ashton smiles, letting out a deep chuckle, “I bet. He’s adorable, he looks just like you,” he tells you.

“Thank you. When he was a baby he looked so much like my mom it was crazy.” you smile softly to yourself, remembering when you found old pictures of your mom and put one side by side with one of Elijah’s. They were practically identical.

You were brought out of your thoughts when a small wet body climbed up in your lap and laid his head on your shoulder tiredly. “Are you tired, E?” you ask him softly, moving his wet hair - he needs a haircut - off his forehead before placing a light kiss upon it.

He nods tiredly against you, his small hand lazily stroking the top of Duke’s head. The dog had moved to cuddle into the side of your thigh when Ashton sat down.

Calum appeared in front of you, a towel wrapped around his hips as he smiled down at you softly, holding out a towel for you. “Thank you,” you tell him, taking the towel and wrapping it around Elijah to try and keep him warm and dry him off.

“Should we just call Luke and Mikey and tell them to come over now? Since we're already here?” Ashton asks as Calum sits on the ‘L’ part of the couch next to your legs. “Did you drive here?” he asks you, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t see your car out there when I pulled in.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I live across the street.”

Ashtons eyebrows raise in surprise before he lets out a chuckle, “wow, small world.”

You nod, “if you guys want to call Luke and Mikey that’s okay with me, but the babysitter I have for E can’t come until 7, she has a family thing.” you tell them, looking down at the small boy in your arms who has fallen asleep against your shoulder.

“That’s fine. If you want you can go lay him down in my bed? So he can take a nap until your babysitter gets to your house,” Calum tells you softly.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That would be good.” you tell him, smiling up at him gently.

You all head inside, Elijah on your hip sleeping soundly against your shoulder as Calum leads you down the hall just off the kitchen and to the last door on the right. It was nothing like you’d picture his room to be.

The walls are white, and there’s a tv hanging on the gray accent wall in front of the bed. The bed is made with the white fluffy comforter folded where it meets the firm, white pillows at the top of the bed. The floor is clear, save a few cords to the tall lamp in the corner of the room and a charger.

“Bathroom’s through there,” he tells you pointing to the open door next to the tv.

“Thank you, Cal,” you tell him sincerely. Thankful for him offering to let E nap in his room.

“Yeah, of course y/n. Make yourself at home,” he smiles before leaving you and walking back to the living room.

You unwrap the towel from around Elijah, laying it out on the bed before placing your sleeping boy down gently. You change him into his regular diaper, causing him to whine and thrash around before you change him into a pair of navy blue cotton shorts and a plain white shirt . He quiets down, falling back to sleep as you move him up to the pillows, forming a sort of wall around him with a pillow on both sides of his body before you gently place a kiss to his forehead.

Picking up the diaper bag you walk into the bathroom, which is just as clean as the bedroom, to change yourself.

You untie your bikini top and reach into the bag, only to find a swim diaper and the sunblock. You swore quietly, thinking back to when you packed the bag and realizing you didn’t pack a pair of extra clothes for yourself.

Quickly you put your top and your white cover up back on, swearing at yourself in your head for forgetting clothes before walking out of the bathroom quietly so you didn’t wake Elijah up.

You padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where Cal was sitting at the counter as Ashton rummaged through the fridge talking about a song he started writing.

Calum looks up when you appear in the kitchen doorway, his eyes flickering over your body as his brows furrow, “You didn’t change?” he points out more than asks.

You nod, biting your lip as your cheeks blush. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to pack any clothes for myself,” you tell him, smiling shyly, “But i’m ok in this,” you assure him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned. “I can watch Elijah while you go home to change-” he pauses, “or actually I think Mali might have left some clothes behind when she was here last.” he tells you, hopping off his stool and walking down the hall again.

Mali? Is that his girlfriend?

Your stomach fills with dread. Just when you thought you finally met someone that didn’t run at the mention of your son, he probably has a girlfriend. Just look at him, of course he has a girlfriend.

“She’s always buying way too many new clothes while she’s here, she can’t fit them all back into her suitcase when she needs to leave,” he tells you chuckling as he holds out a pair of grey sweat pants and a green hoodie.

You hesitate a second, not really wanting to wear his girlfriend's clothes. But the chill in his house is causing goosebumps to appear on your arms. “Thank you,” you say, taking them from his hands and walking back down the hall to change rooms and check on Elijah.

-----

“No,” Luke sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you nod, your mood a stark difference from what it was an hour ago. “He came home one day and said ‘I found someone else, I don’t love you and I'm leaving’ he didn’t even mention Elijah. Just packed up all of his shit while I sat on the couch crying trying to wrap my head around what was happening.”

“From the moment I found out I was pregnant it felt like he was on a different planet. We didn’t match anymore, we didn’t have that spark. If I'm being honest with myself that spark died out a long time ago, I just didn’t want to admit it. He was obviously not excited about the pregnancy- and I wasn't either at first, but when I heard E’s heartbeat for the first time-” you pause, “I can’t even describe it. It was like all my motherly instincts clicked in and I loved him more than I could ever have imagined,” you sigh, smiling at the memory of the day you heard Elijah’s heartbeat.

“I kept telling myself that Easton would come around once Elijah got here. It never really happened though. We were both in our twenties, he wanted to party, and drink and just have fun, and he did, and I stayed home with a screaming newborn while he was out living it up.” shrugging you looked up at all of them, smiling softly.

When you came out from changing into the clothes Calum lent you, all the guys were in the kitchen talking. Luke brought Chinese and you all just sat around talking for hours. You learned a lot of eye opening things. Elijah went home about an hour after they all got there, Jessie coming over to grab him before going back over to your house.

They formed their band when they were still in highschool, which was crazy to you. How they were still friends amazed you; you had lost contact with all your highschool friends when you moved to LA.

Ashton was the oldest out of all of them. Mikey told the story of how he messaged Ashton on facebook messaged Ashton asking if he wanted to join the band. You laughed so hard at how the story was told, it was like one of those boards with all the strings connecting different things that all come to one big conclusion. They were all over the place.

Then it was Mikey and Calum in the middle and Luke was the baby. They were all amazing, genuine guys and you couldn’t have been happier to call them your friends.

You somehow had gotten on the topic of siblings at one point. Mikey doesn’t have any, but he was chessy when he said, “yeah but I have these guys as my brothers,” all the guys ahh’d and called him out on being cheesy but you could tell they were family.

Ashton talked more about his sister and brother, telling you about how his dad walked out on him and then his mom met his stepdad and they had Lauren and Harry before he eventually walked out too. Your heart hurt for him, because you knew just how that felt.

Luke has two brothers, Jack and Ben. You smiled and laughed as he told stories of his childhood and how he and all the guys got up too.

You told them all about your brother, Jaxon. How he was back home in Nashville playing baseball and how he dreamed of going pro.

Calum talked about his sister, how she visits every once and a while when she’s not in the studio or writing her own music.

“Yeah, Mali lives in London so I don’t get to see her much. We talk at least twice a week just to catch up. She’s supposed to visit in a few months so you’ll get to meet her soon,” he smiles over at you.

Mali is his sister? Well, that makes a whole lot of sense.

“That’s great, I can’t wait to meet her!” you tell him, smiling over at him happily.

You all talked for another hour or so, laughing and telling stories before you decided it was time to go. You said bye to everyone, hugging them and telling them you’d see them on friday when you and Alec met them at the studio after lunch.

Calum politely walked you home just to be safe.

“I had a great day, thank you for inviting us over. I know Elijah had a blast,” you tell him, smiling softly up at him. “You were so great with him, he’s normally pretty shy around new people.”

“I did too, we’ll have to do it again.” he tells you. “He’s a great kid, he’s so adorable,” he tells you, smiling.

“Definitely,” you nod up at him.

There was that awkward silence where you both just looked at each other, your eyes flicking between his as his eyes flicked over your face and fell to your plump lips. Your breath hitched as his eyes linger there before returning to your eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers, pulling you into a tight hug.

You relax in his arms, hugging him back as your face hides in his neck. “Goodnight, Cal” you whisper back lingering in the hug before he kisses the top of your head and lets go.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he calls, descending the three steps of your porch.

“See you friday!” you call back before walking into your house. Your back pressing to the back of your front door as you let out a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Oh my god! That was Calum Hood!,” you hear excitedly from your couch making your eyes pop wide open.

---

Taglist (striked out couldn’t be tagged - get added here -) @wontlastimokwiththat @doctcr-reid @harrystylesandharrypotter @vividstyles23 @thesadstoryofme @hufflepuffhaze @kuolonsyoja @lonelyheart5 @kyleeisahotmess @wiiildflowerrr

#latw series #latw ssacalumsg0lden series #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #calum thomas hood #cal pal #calum x you #calum x reader #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood fic

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wrenwinchester · 6 months

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One Halloween, when Sammy was 6 and Millie was 8, the year after the Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman fiasco (Sam broke his arm and Dean had to leave Millie alone while he took him to the ER on his handlebars) Sam and Wren decided that they were going to dress up as Dean for Halloween, they both just told him they wanted to go as their personal super hero, and Dean figured they were going to dress up as John, or Bobby, maybe even Pastor Jim. They both grabbed one of Dean’s shirts at different times over the two weeks before Halloween. All of them had longer hair at that point, since Dean hadn’t been on too many hunts with their dad yet, and Millie got hers cut above her shoulders before school had started that year. They wouldn’t let him help them get ready, trying to be as independent as possible, just like their big brother.

The shirts were about 4 sizes to big on Millie and 8 sizes too big on Sam, they styled their hair the same way he typically did (bed head) by taking turns messing up each other’s hair.

Dean just about cried when he saw them.

#millie wren is my roman empire and i can’t stop thinking about her #millicent winchester #i’m already heartbroken and i’ve only written a few chapters #the winchesters sister #the winchester brothers #the winchesters #dean winchester #writing #supernatural #sam winchester #I’m going to cry #fiction #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #Dean Winchester is a softy

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 29)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.1k (I’m sorry)

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I know today was supposed to be a PoV update day, but I am struggling with those atm, so for now I’ll post every Saturday and Tuesday, and if I write and want to post an Ivar PoV or smth, I will do so out of schedule. I’m so sorry, but otherwise I’ll just stress myself out.

There’s a bracelet mentioned in this, I had this one in mind. Pretty, innit?

And just an fyi, (I haven’t done these in a while, damn): Falcons are symbols of Freyja, who has stories referring to how she cries tears of gold at the absence of her husband from her side. Bats are symbols of Persephone, and in my canon I’ve always portrayed her as a woman of dark skin and blind eyes. Oh, and snakes are symbols of Hades.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter

The air around you is strange, a mix of warm and cold that doesn’t quite manage to be lukewarm, each second the breeze changes from a welcoming moment in the sun to the biting winds of a coast. Even the sky looks wrong, somewhere between night and day, the sun shining brightly one moment only to turn cold and distant the next.

You can almost see the silhouette of a woman standing in the distance, and because you know you must, you walk to her.

She extends a hand, her smile vicious but her eyes warm.

For a moment, when you blink, the blind eyes disappear and pale eyes look back at you, crying tears that shine like gold. Her lips aren’t stained by the red tint of pomegranates and blood anymore, but she still smiles, a mother beckoning a child into her embrace.

It is not the face you have come to know, yet she’s still familiar, and their voices when they whisper your name sound like one.

You reach with trembling fingers, try to reach her, and for a moment you can almost feel her warmth, burning like the fire that was once all you could feel. But the moment your hand finds hers, the moment the tips of your fingers touch hers…the cackle of a falcon, the screech of a bat by your ear, and she is gone.

All you have left is the cold that seeps into your skin and the certainty they have heard you, and answered, each and every time you’ve prayed.

A murmur of your name brings your attention to the youngest son of Ragnar, forcing you to return your attention -your mind- to the here and now, to the city that starts to wake up, to the streets you are supposed to be walking.

You answer the question written in Ivar’s eyes with a smile.

“I’m fine,” You promise quietly, “I have been having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“Dreams?”

“Are you to trust dreams as visions?” You ask, a little life returning to your voice as you tilt your head to the side.

“You told me yourself that your Goddess’ form appears in your dreams.” Ivar argues.

It wasn’t just her.

You refuse to admit to the son of a Viking seeress that you have dreamt of Freyja. If by chance some of Aslaug’s gift remains with Ivar, you dread to hear him decipher the meaning behind the form you saw in your dreams. So, you keep that to yourself.

“But you do not believe in my Gods.” Is what you argue with instead.

He shrugs with his arm not on the crutch, “I believe in you.”

You stop in your tracks, stunned into silence. Your eyes are glued to Ivar’s back as he continues walking, and a tremulous smile starts lifting at your lips, aided by the fragile hope and foolish emotion blossoming in your chest.

Ivar turns to you when he sees you are not coming, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at your surprised and commoved expression.

“Don’t overreact. You were never wrong about your…dealings with your Gods before.”

Shaking off the surprise and the foolish hopes and feelings that have no place here, that cling to your mind like cobwebs, you skip the space between you, offering him a smile and a nod.

“I still appreciate the trust, Ivar.” You tease, skimming bold fingers over the back of his hand, a smile on your lips.

He regards you in silence for a few moments, not walking anymore, and you see in his gaze that he ponders with himself whether to say something that’s in his mind or not.

“Let’s go eat, woman.” He finally huffs, turning his attention to the path ahead. You bite down your disappointment at him swallowing whatever his words were to be, and walk at his side.

The thralls that greet you when you enter do so with a smile, although their eyes linger on your hair for a few moments, and move cautiously about as they set the food in front of you both and take their leave.

“You keep confusing them, you know.” Ivar starts casually, already focused on his food but still demanding that you sit at his side while you eat your bread and drink your herbal tea. You have no idea how these people manage to eat so much so early in the day.

“Me?”

Sucking his fingers clean, a gesture you shouldn’t be following with your eyes the way you are, Ivar lifts his gaze to focus on you.

“You refuse to let them braid your hair unless we make a deal, you reuse that old dress every chance you have.”

“I like my hair this way.” You quip, rather obstinately.

Ivar’s eyes go to the gentle twirls and the delicate updo holding the hair away from your face, studying the style for a few moments. Finally, he shrugs in response.

You have an inkling that’s the closest you will get to receiving a compliment, so you let yourself enjoy the victory as if it were one.

“You still get cold in that dress. You keep trembling when night falls, woman, it’s annoying.” He mumbles.

“It’s…mine.” You offer as explanation, smiling down at your infusion as you watch the herbs swirl and smell the familiar scent of red clover and chickweed.

When you lift your gaze from the swirling herbs in your cup, you catch his eyes on you, but he adverts his gaze to his food once again when he speaks, “You have dresses in our room. Those are yours.”

“They are not mine, they are clothes you had people bring to me.” You insist, fingers tracing the worn Byzantine thread with care.

“You can ask them to bring you the ones you like.”

“I don’t want to take it from them, they…deserve compensation.”

“Would it be better if you bought your own, then?” He offers, and even if excitement bubbles in your chest and into your lips in a small smile, you still refrain.

“I don’t have any gold.”

“I can give you all you need.” Ivar sentences, and although for a moment your mind lingers on the meaning you think he intended behind those words, you soon find yourself with a smile on your lips and only thoughts of the peplos and chlamys you had back in your home before it burned down.

It has been so long since you have had time -or coin- to make some dresses.

“I don’t want to be in your debt.” You insist, even if you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.

Ivar regards you silently for a few moments, resting his elbows on the table between you and challenging your eyes with his, his expression asking you why you decide to be so difficult about everything. You offer a shrug in response, wondering if he sees the hypocrisy in complaining about you being difficult to deal with.

“Think of them as…gifts, then.”

“Alright.” You murmur, your gaze holding his for once not feeling like it’s a duel, but an encounter. When it is a genuine one, however rare they are, Ivar truly has a lovely smile, you realize.

When you are done with your meal and murmur your goodbyes as you prepare to head for the apothecary home, Ivar interrupts you, sly smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes that, were he to be any other man, would make you think he is flirting.

“I like red.”

You smile in response, bending down to press a kiss against his cheek. Ivar grumbles his way away from your affection, but the shine in his eyes, the faint color in his ears, give him away.

“Come with me to the market and I’ll see what I can do.” You offer, already knowing you are triumphant.

____

“Oh, this is fun.” You laugh, dangling your feet over the chariot’s end as you watch the ground quickly move underneath them.

Ivar grunts something in response to your enthusiasm, and you can almost tell he is exaggeratedly rolling his eyes as he faces the horse and guides it through Kattegat’s roads.

You say nothing, still beyond thankful he agreed to come to the market with you, aware as you are of how…uncomfortable he is walking around the people of Kattegat. If his words the day you witnessed first-hand what happens when his eyes get that blue tint to them are anything to go by, and you know they are; it is evident he hates the reminder, for himself and especially for others, that he is disabled.

You’ll never know what life was -is- like for him, you know you couldn’t fathom the pain, the anger, the resentment. But what you can do is try to understand him, understand his rage and his hunger.

I spent most of my life crawling around in the dirt, having to look up at everyone, like I was always kneeling in front of them.

And again, the part of you that is soft and foolish wants nothing other than to give him the happiness, the certainty, the safety, the love some may say he does not deserve but you would gladly give freely. And the part of you that is cruel and angry wants to watch him conquer, triumph, wants to stand by his side and see the world that pushed him to the ground burn.

A voice that sounds so alike his whispers there’s no reason why only one of those things has to be possible.

Still, in your mind lingers the image of a younger Ivar, heartbroken and hopeless at the seemly inability to fight, to earn his right to Valhalla; and it sends a pang of pain through your heart.

You know the stubborn King would only call it pity if he were to know, so you keep your tone light when you say,

“Thank you for this, Ivar,” He only answers with a huffed ‘hmphf’, so you add with a side smile, “I hope you know I will ask for chariot rides way more often.”

“For the right price, I’ll give you anything you want.” Ivar finally answers, and you catch a glimpse of his blue eyes turning to you for a moment.

“Dare I ask what the price might be?”

You could swear you hear him chuckle, and before long the market is in your sights, bubbling and colorful, and your attention is stolen by the wares and chanting vendors.

As you walk eyeing every little trinket and odd curiosity, you cannot keep the nostalgic smile from your lips.

“When I was a child my mother and I used to walk markets just like this one. She…she had this tradition, bought a new dress or a new piece of jewelry each time my father was to return from a campaign.” You recall with a watery laugh, fingers caressing the hanging necklaces of colorful beads you walk by.

“Campaigns? Like raids?”

“Yes, she…she used to say it was so he would have some surprise to return to, and my father would joke it was her way of keeping him in Eleusis, a threat that if he left us too frequently she would spend all our coin on pretty things,” You answer softly, running your hand over a piece of cold blue cloth, “Our temple looks over the sea, and I would sit with her on the steps, waiting for my father’s ship to return. He used to say our smiles guided the navy home,” You laugh. The smile in your mother’s lips as the sea reflected in her burdened and yet loving eyes is brought forth in your mind, and you cannot keep the next words from stumbling out of your lips, “I think…I think those are the only times I remember her being…happy.

She fought so much, through her noble title and the title of wife of a Strategus, through her worship and her strong voice. And yet she perished amongst flames, her death cheered by her own countrymen.

The cold hand of fear grips your heart, and after being once so close to ending your tale the same way, for a moment you refuse to expose yourself to that bitter and barren end, no matter the cost.

You shake off the dark thoughts, and focus on the market and the life bubbling within it.

“I don’t think I ever said this, but Kattegat truly is beautiful, Ivar.” You offer after a while in silence, the sharp focus of his blue eyes setting on you at your words.

“My mother turned Kattegat into a trading hub, allowed the town to prosper through commerce. When I became King, I…wanted to honor that.”

“Did Queen Aslaug teach you of trade?” You ask curiously, your lips still smiling as your eyes rake over the stands of so many different colors, of the offered spices and cloths and pets. It all is beautiful, loud, and with pieces of everywhere in the known world scattered throughout.

It feels like the Silk Roads. It feels like the first home you knew.

Ivar huffs, a combination of amusement and maybe regret, “No, she didn’t. I did not care for it, but my older brothers learned from watching her rule,” He explains, and remains silent for a few moments, for so long that you think he’s not going to speak again, until he takes a deep breath, “Hvitserk has been the one dealing with commerce and foreign trade, and he has done…good for Kattegat.” He says finally, the praise towards his brother gruff and carrying the bite of rancor, like admitting the other man’s success irks him.

“You should tell him that.” You murmur as casually as you are able to, pretending to eye a display of metal bracelets.

Your fingers trace over the snakes on one of the intricate metalworks, and you are reminded of the altar in the forest of Eleusis: Persephone, sitting in her throne with a scythe, symbol of Demeter, held in her hand to demonstrate her pledge to her mother, and snakes, symbols of Hades, curled around her body as proof of her husband’s love.

“Do you like it?” Ivar asks, ignoring your previous words and looming over your back as he regards the delicate bracelet you hold. Not waiting for your answer, he motions for it and talks to the man behind the stall in his own language.

You place your touch back on the King’s arm, but this time is a call for attention, “Thank you, but I couldn’t, I don’t need it.”

But he shakes his head, lips pressed into a line, “I asked if you liked it, not if you needed it.”

“Must we argue about everything?” You sigh, exasperated as you watch him pay for the bracelet with curt words.

When he turns his gaze back to you, he does so with the arrogant and maddening smile you have learned to hate, “I don’t know. Shall we argue about that?”

You just huff in response, striding your way to a stall with bright linens and leaving him -and his bracelet- behind.

“Sure, make the cripple chase after you.” He growls, the bite in his voice paired with shame that even with your back turned to him you can sense, making you falter. A moment regret pangs at your stomach, but you will not apologize. Instead, you move to one somewhat empty passageway, so you can speak freely,

“I don’t like that word,” You grit out as you turn to watch him approach, “Rather, I don’t like how you use it.”

Ivar stands in front of one of the more secluded alleys, and you can sense the tension in his frame, the shame and despair, but say nothing about it.

He is quick to fire back, “Well, I don’t particularly like being a cripple, wife.”

“Oh, for the love of-…” You growl as the word rings in your head, and you pace away from Ivar for a moment, running a hand through your hair as you roll your eyes. When you turn back to the King, you face his angry and defensive gaze with your own, determined and fierce, “You are much more than your legs, you are what you made out of yourself past them, because of them,” Shaking your head but keeping your voice down and the people from hearing, you hiss, “It would have been easy for you to wallow in pity and let the world look down upon you, but you didn’t. You are dedicated, and strong, and brilliant, and…and many more things; and you chose to show them to never underestimate you, you made the choice to fight.

His eyes look into both of your own, the movement of the Greek-Fire like irises hinting at a desperation, a hesitancy, a fear, you once would never have believed Ivar would be able to show.

You reach with impulsive, careless, stupid fingers to trace the scar that has mesmerized you for so long, that runs right over his cheekbone, under his eye. He jumps at the touch, although not as violently as the last time you were this stupid, and keeps silent as his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes, jump between yours with a thousand questions written in them.

With a deep breath and refusing to move your gaze from his, even if you feel as exposed as he is, you continue,

“And it wasn’t easy, was it? It wasn’t and it is not fair. And if you use that word like…like they use it, you prove them right. And we both know they are not right about you.

With one last caress of his jaw, you lower your hand and press a vulnerable palm over his armored heart, looking up at him with determination.

Ivar regards you in silence, surprising you at his lack of defensiveness, of bite, of cruelty. But his guarded, so tightly controlled expression that it almost looks fragile makes something within you relent, something within you soften.

And your voice is just as quiet as before, but this time lacking the bite when you say, “So…stop using that word like an insult, because you turned that word into so much more. Because you are so much more,” You say, the fervor in your voice surprising you. After a beat of silence, you add in a mumble, “Like an insufferably stubborn man, among other things.”

He says nothing in response, only stubbornly offering you the bracelet with a clenched jaw. You roll your eyes, but extend your arm and allow him to put it on your wrist, trying to dispel the electrifying effects his warm touch has on your skin.

With his fingers still on your wrist, Ivar tugs and draws you closer. Surprised, your feet clumsily cross the space he demands to be crossed, and you look up into his eyes, those alluring eyes that both threaten and adore.

Ivar says nothing for a few moments, before finally moving forward, and your heart skips a beat, your breath leaves you. For a moment that lasts an eternity, you think he will be the one to give in.

But Ivar only leans close to speak by your ear, a murmur of your name. A moment, and you hear him again, quietly, barely a breath, “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” You warn, just as quietly, “I did not say those things expecting gratitude, I said them because they are true.”

Uncertain fingers trace one last hesitant caress along the skin in your wrist, right over the bracelet he gifted you with, and it is a silent agreement between you that you both return to browsing the market.

“Almost as fine as Byzantine silk, I swear on it,” The woman promises, offering you a display of soft and flowing linens. “Fit for the Gods, even.”

You laugh as you shake your head, “I am far from divine, good woman.”

“Because you lack my silk,” She insists with a toothy smile, and another light chuckle leaves your lips as you look over the different colors of the silk she offers, eyeing the varying colors and trying to decide on a good one for a formal peplos.

A rough hand grabs one of the dark red pieces before you can make your choice.

“I like this one.” Ivar says, and even if his tone makes it sound like an order, you still nod your approval and ask the vendor for the needed linens.

Later, after spending part of your day browsing the dresses and cloth offered in the market so tirelessly your feet now ache, you relax in your bed with a warm cup of milk and honey in your hands, watching as the pale sun settles over Kattegat’s horizon.

The warmth of the fire, the safety of the house around you, the rhythm of this city; none of this should feel as familiar, as comforting as it does.

Drawing your knees to your chest, hiding bare and cold feet under the furs, you set the cup down and keep your tired eyes on the horizon, even if the sun’s light is quick to blind you.

When you blink past the light, you find yourself looking into eyes as blue and as burning as Greek Fire, and a small smile pulls at your lips. He extends a hand, offers you a bracelet.

You roll your eyes, but accept Ivar’s warm touch as he places the bracelet around your wrist. Proudly keeping your place at his side, you walk with him through the street.

A woman keeps her dark eyes on you as you walk her by, and when you offer her a small smile and a nod in recognition, she offers you a smirk.

“Snakes curl at your feet. They bind you to this realm.” She says, her Greek harsh, only slightly better than Ivar’s. You swallow past the knot in your throat, and turn your gaze once again to the path ahead of you, jaw set tightly.

“Not for long.”

She laughs, darkly, hungrily, knowingly.

“You should know better than to say that, chosen of Persephone.”

You stop dead in your tracks, something off about her flawless Greek startling you. She holds your gaze, a challenge shining in her blind eyes. You blink, trying to see what changed of her face that unsettles you so, but you cannot seem to focus.

The woman lowers her face, a dark laugh echoing around you as darkness consumes the once vivid and loud streets. You turn around wildly, looking for…for…

The woman appears in front of you, face bare and blood dripping down her full lips. She extends her hand, offers you a red veil.

A gasp makes its way out of your lips as you sit up in the bed, eyes frantically searching for…her, as if she is to still be here.

You cannot shake from your mind the snippets of the dream -Vision? Message?- from your mind, and when you straighten from the fire you were occupied with, you catch sight of the clothes and linens you bought today and are startled by the amount of red you can see.

The color of a bride’s veil. The veil she offered you.

When you lift uncertain hands to run through your loose hair, you catch a glimpse of the bracelet Ivar gifted you on your wrist.

A shackle. A snake to curl at your feet and bind you.

Trying with all your might to dispel such thoughts, you return to your seat with the now cold cup of milk and honey in your hands and close your eyes tight.

Try as you may, each time you manage to shake off the images of your dream, behind closed eyes you see the countless dreams that came before it, the countless times you saw a figure that wasn’t quite mortal lurking in your dreams.

All the times before and after your return to Eleusis where you saw clearly in the distance a pair of thrones, though you knew one would remain empty for quite a while. Even after finding yourself shackled and bound in Kattegat, the dream of the snakes that slithered around you, only to then make you trip and fall, only to let Ivar move over you, promise you a kingdom against your lips.

Gods, the vision of…of the woman that cries gold, the motherly smile, the armor covering her chest. How you could blink and see blind eyes and dark skin instead, bloodied lips and still the same warm and welcoming smile. Both hands extended towards you, of which you found yourself unable to hold on to neither.

You never believed it to be a curse, to be a woman born destined to be close to the Gods.

But your eyes fill with tears, your heart grows heavy, and you cannot help but think how life could have been so much easier, how you could have been so happy, if only you had never known both of the Seer and the Oracle, of Freyja and Persephone. Of Kattegat and Attica.

And how you wish for a life where you don’t feel Fate tearing you in two.

____

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked this chapter!

Also, yes, I made a Phantom of the Opera reference lol

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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hiscyarika · 4 years

Text

Landslide: Chapter One

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Ten years after leaving her on their wedding day, Javier returns to Laredo and runs into Reader

Warning(s): Angst

A/N: Here’s the first chapter of the Landslide series! I’m really excited to share this with you and I’m glad that I was able to get it done. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, as I want this to be my best work so far. There were a few tags that didn’t work and for that I’m sorry! Also, a very special thank you to @aerynwrites for editing this chapter before its publishing! You’re the best, girl! ❤️

Masterlist

Tag Lists

No amount of time will ever change Laredo.

Stubborn as a mule, it refuses to move forward with the rest of the world. Some people, like you, come and go, but the vast majority stands still—a moment frozen in time. You’ve spent years trying to escape this place, but when inevitably you’re forced to return, everything is just the way that you left it: down even to the sharp creak in the door as you enter the mini market in town.

It’s still owned by the same family. You smile and wave at Anita Robinson from where she stands at the register, refilling the machine with a new roll of receipt paper. She’s an older woman, with a son your age and a daughter just a couple of years younger. Just like everyone else in this town, you’ve known her since you were little. Her eyes light up as she looks up to give an automatic greeting, and even from your distance you can see the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. For just a moment, she abandons the task at hand. “Well look who’s back! How have you been, honey?,” she asks, her deep Texas accent bleeding into every word.

You pick up one of the wicker baskets from the bin by the door, carrying it with you down the first aisle. The shelves are short enough that you can still see Mrs. Robinson as you start your quick grocery run. “I’ve been alright. I’m back in town for a while until I can find another publisher,” you explain briefly.

She shakes her head, picking up the receipt paper again. “Oh, sweetie. That’s too bad. Where were you this time? I think your dad said something about Seattle, but I can’t quite remember,” she replies. You can’t help the way that your smile falls to a more gentle expression at her words. Anita has always been a sweet woman, beloved by everyone she’s ever met.

“Yeah. I was in Seattle. But it’s alright. I’ve already contacted some other people. Hopefully things will pan out this time. How are Will and Sadie?,” you ask.

She closes the compartment on the register, laughing softly. “Oh, they’re both doing great. Sadie and Jason got married a few months ago. Then Katie and Will just had their first baby. I’m a grandmama now.” She beams, and you glance up from the jar of peanut butter you’d just placed in the basket to see her pulling out a couple of photos. “But I’ll quit pestering you for now and show you when you’re done,” she laughs, leaning with her side against the counter.

“Alright,” you reply, giving a soft laugh.

With nothing to distract you, you make your way a little faster down the aisles, going over your mental shopping list while muttering things to yourself under your breath. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t hear the bell over the door ring as another customer walks in, and you don’t notice the soft gasp that escapes Anita’s lips when she sees who it is.

A thought strikes you, and you realize that you’ve passed the taco seasoning. You turn quickly on your heels and take a step forward in what is nearly a single fluid movement, but collide with the broad chest of the man who’d been standing not too far behind you. You immediately step back and begin to apologize, but then your eyes meet his gaze. You go silent, save for the sharp gasp that leaves you as the breath is sucked from your lungs.

“Javi?”

Your blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you see your name formed on his lips but you don’t hear his voice. Every thought leaves your head as you try to form words again. But the effort is futile. You take another step back, putting more distance between the two of you. A glance in the direction of the counter shows that Anita is gone. Whether that’s to escape this awkward reunion or to go tell the rest of the town about it, you can’t be sure.

When you look back, Javier’s face has morphed from shock to a softer expression that you don’t have a name for. It’s somewhere between sadness and grief. Regret, maybe, though even that doesn’t feel quite right. But you hate the way that his gaze has softened, his eyes looking down at you like he deserves to feel anything as intensely as you do.

Your shock is quickly replaced by anger, and a hurt that you’ve never managed to fully extinguish.

“It’s...It’s been a while,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. It’s a poor choice of first words, so appalling that you have to hold back a bitter laugh as it bubbles up in your chest.

“Ten years does seem pretty long when you don’t bother trying to contact someone, doesn’t it?,” you seethe.

Regret is written clearly across his features now, but that’s no matter to you. “Querida, I–”

“Fuck off, Javier.” You cut him off before he can even begin whatever apology he might have come up with. You don’t want to hear it. You want nothing to do with him. Not anymore.

You push your way past him in the narrow walkway, returning the items in your basket to their places on the shelf. As much as you want to just drop the basket and walk out the door, you won’t leave it for Anita to deal with. You don’t hear Javier’s footsteps behind you, and for a moment you think maybe he’s smart enough not to pursue you any further. But just as you drop the wicker basket back in the bin, his hand wraps around your arm. He gently pulls you back towards him.

You whip around, pushing hard at his chest and yanking your arm from his grasp. His touch triggers a switch from flight to fight. “Don’t,” you warn, your eyes burning. You feel the heat of your anger flooding your body, the fury making you tremble. He doesn’t try to grab you again.

“Just let me talk to you, damn it,” he demands, his hands placed firmly on his hips.

Now you laugh. It’s humorless. “Oh now you want to talk? Well that’s too damn bad.”

He huffs out a sigh of frustration. “I need you to understand wh–”

“To hell with what you need, Javier. Your needs stopped being my concern when you left me on our fucking wedding day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be going,” you bite back. Without letting him have the last word, you walk out of the mini mart, back into the relentless Texas heat. Paired with your anger, it makes your skin feel like it’s being prodded by thousands of tiny needles.

You don’t look behind you. You don’t want to see Javier looking at you through the glass pane of the door. How he managed to come home to Laredo without you hearing about it is beyond you, but it would have been nice to know that he was back. It would have at least given you some time to mentally prepare yourself for the moment that you might see him again. Now you just feel jarred, out of place. Like your soul was taken from your body to watch all of this happen.

You try to take in a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth. But your lips tremble as you exhale and your vision blurs with a new wave of tears. You force yourself to move forward, one foot in front of the other. With your mind in overdrive and your body on autopilot, you somehow make your way back to your apartment without losing your way.

By the time you make it to the front door, your tears have broken free, flowing down your cheeks. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, and your hands shake as you take out your small ring of keys. They fall to the ground from your weak grasp, and you curse under your breath as you bend down to pick them up again. You force the apartment key into the lock, turning it and opening the door.

You all but collapse as you make it through the doorway, dropping the keys and falling back against the door as it shuts behind you. A gut-wrenching sob claws its way out of your throat, and despite your efforts to stifle it with your hand over your mouth, it’s no use. You shut your eyes tightly, sinking to the ground with your back against the door.

His face. His voice. You’ve worked so hard to leave them behind, to let him go. After so many years it felt like you had finally buried him in your past, never to be found again. And just like that, all of the pain and hurt and heartbreak has been dug up and hauled out for you to bear once more. To bear alone. This isn’t something that you’ll burden your parents with. You don’t want them to worry about you. You’re not a lovesick, heartbroken young woman anymore. You’ve changed and grown. You can handle this, no matter how difficult it might be.

Mind clouded by the agony of raw emotion, you push yourself up from the floor, walking back to your bedroom and throwing the door open. You drag a suitcase out from under the bed, tossing it onto the mattress. A new resolve takes over you, and you start throwing things into the suitcase. You can’t stay here. There’s not enough room in Laredo for your grief and Javier both. And if it means you’ll never see him again, you’ll leave tonight.

You raid your drawers and your closet, throwing in random articles of clothing. Every movement is frenzied. In the back of your mind, you make sure that there is at least one professional outfit, knowing that you’ll need it for meeting with publishers should you ever get a call.

That in mind, you go to your desk next, pulling out the typed up manuscripts and outline journals. In the height of your fury, hot tears leak from your eyes. Though they go unnoticed by you. The only thing you can think about is leaving. The more miles between you and Javier, the better. You’ll drive as long as it takes for the distance to soothe the throbbing in your chest.

When there’s no more room in the suitcase, you put all of your weight into keeping it closed as you zip it up. You curse at the strain, but you’re too determined to make this any easier on yourself by packing a second bag. By the time you do get it closed, your energy is spent.

You grip the edges of the mattress until your knuckles turn white, finally beginning the descent from your hysterics. As you come down, you go quiet again. Your chest no longer heaves with labored breaths. No sound falls from your lips. Your tears have lessened, but still fall silently from your eyes. Exhaustion seeps into every part of your body, a bone-deep ache from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to move the suitcase or bury yourself under the covers. You lay your head down on your pillow as it begins to throb, the aftermath of your emotional release coupled with the never ending thoughts of the man that so easily erased any healing you’d managed to do in the last decade. The pillow is soon wet and stained with black mascara tears. But at least now you can think a little more clearly.

And as much as you hate it, you know that you can’t leave.

There’s nowhere for you to go. The whole point of coming back home was to have a place to stay until you could get another meeting lined up and save up some more money. More importantly, you can’t—you won’t—give Javier this power over you. You won’t let him be the reason that you uproot yourself before you’re ready. He’s the one that left town. He doesn’t get to be the one to drive you away.

Mind made up, you sink a little further into the mattress, groaning softly as the movement disturbs your aching body. Before you can fall asleep though, your eyes catch a glimpse of a piece of cardstock lying on the floor beside the bed. You sigh when you realize that it’s an invitation to Danny’s wedding, which you’ve already committed to attending, and it’s in just a few days’ time.

Javier will be there. That you’re absolutely certain of.

But you’ll go anyway, because you could never disappoint the Peñas with your absence. Despite the fact that you never officially married into the family, they’ve always treated you like you were one of them regardless. And for that you’re grateful. They could have turned their backs on you the moment that Javier skipped town. Instead, they chose to hold you that much closer to their hearts. And you’ve done the same with them.

For their sake, you can endure being in the same room as Javier.

Chapter Two

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perfidy;tom holland|19

chapter 19: the script II

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: Valerie and Robbie. Tom and y/n.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst, a lot of swearing, the script, tom gets drunk again, poorly written script :) IF FOR SOME REASON THE PICTURES DON’T WORK PLEASE TELL ME!)

word count: 8.2k

playlist(1: with song names) (there are many songs from here featured on this playlist, btw the 70′s songs I meant is ‘Yes, Sir, I can Boogie’.

playlist 2 (Spotify link)

Playlist: perf1Dy (one direction+solo songs)

social media before you read :

tweets, texts and instagram: with harry and y/n hanging out.

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

So, this chapter is super different! You’ll be able to read part of the script! So I added some pictures to give in with the aesthetic (that’s the script) you know? So, tell me what you think! Reblogs are more than welcome!

She’d choose him. She would choose him. Even if right now Tom was the love of her life, or whatever she meant by that. She would choose Robbie��Harry. Harry. Because even if she believed that Tom—or Timmy? Was the one. She’d rather it be Harry.

Tom guessed that what had bothered him the most was what he had most feared for, what he had been sure for his entire life. Harry and y/n were supposed to be together. And y/n believed that, too.

And she had once been in love with him. Because the script was a love story, indeed, about Valerie, an aspiring dancer, imagine Flashdance, Dirty Dancing, Footloose, and Fame combined, somehow. 80’s classics, y/n’s favorites. Valerie, still listening to 60’s music, paired up with her childhood enemy, William, already a dancer, and along the way, she met Teddy, the poet. And Robbie, her whole life best friend and number one fan, a guitarist, playing in his local band. Of course, Valerie, tired of Will giving her obstacles, in life, in her dancing career, decides she’ll break his heart. After one steamy night, everything is changed. So yes, of course it was a love story. But not between Will and Valerie.

It was the story of her love for dancing, and how she’d do everything to get her, even taking Will down, and a story of a love that should’ve been, and how it kept pulling them backwards. Either their friends, the situation, misunderstandings, their feelings or lack of. But timing. Usually timing.

That scene wasn’t even the worst thing he’d read. Problem was, he knew he was probably not the only one who knew it. Tim knew it, and maybe that’s why Tim had been smart enough to set Harry up with Emma. But Timmy wasn’t that wicked right—?

But y/n had once loved Harry, before Rome. And it made sense, Tom remembered it. He perfectly remembered it. How y/n and Harry had been hanging out more because she’d be leaving. How even Sam had told Tom.

“Think they might finally date?” Sam had asked Tom.

Tom had felt just a little heartbroken, but he had to admit they had been even—closer, and not closer as they were before. Sure, they’d always be together and they’d hug and even cuddle, but they’d seen it. They’d changed, a bit. How they’d go out alone, and they’d be giggling more. How y/n would look at Harry and smile, Sam had sworn he’d even seen her blush once.

She’d written about it, how they’d almost kissed. And how Valerie had told nobody. Neither had Robbie.

And somehow that made Tom feel broken-hearted and guilty and stupid and then—because it all made sense. He’d taken that from his brother. How did he not know?

Because it made sense. Y/N had had feelings for someone who treated her like she was the only girl in the world. It made sense.

But of course, then came Rome. Or… London, yes. That’s what she changed it for. As if London alone didn’t have any part of their story. But before London, and after London. How y/n had completely shut out her feelings for Harry. She only mentioned it. How Valerie and William had once found each other again, in London. And how she’d forgotten every feeling towards Robbie, the instant she’d seen William.

But even after everything, Y/N believed Harry was crafted for her. Or not crafted… but, she did say it, how she didn’t understand why she couldn’t love the one. And Harry was it. Not even Timmy, or not even Tom. How y/n had caged up and boxed her feelings for Harry because she’d hate to ruin a perfect friendship, but did she even love him back? Had she hidden her feelings all this time?

If he thought about it, it made sense. But it didn’t. But it was a script, right?

And Tom wouldn’t have believed it, everyone based their own works on their own life, or outs a little bit of them. But, this was y/n’s story. And this was a story of how, tired of not being loved back or tired of not loving the right person, she breaks someone’s heart.

But maybe it was fiction..

But then he had looked around her room, and he’d seen two boxes, Tim and Tom. Tom was biggers and older, and after being hit with that bomb he might have wanted to open his box, search for more answers, but he had already sneaked in and found something he didn’t want to know, he had decided not to open the box. But then he searched for a third box, Harry’s. He knew that if there was a box it had to mean something. And there wasn’t a box. But there was—her whole room. Things which she didn’t have to hide.

Polaroids, movie tickets, concert tickets, everything that screamed Harry. Their projects, their memories. Presents, parties. Her entire room was her and Harry, and she didn’t have to box it. She didn’t have to—hide it, because she didn’t look at Harry and was sad or pissed. Harry was her happy place.

And then Tom’s box was ripped and old, and even dusty. Tim’s seemed recent. Which only confirmed it, she had to box it because she didn’t want to see it. And she didn’t have to box Harry. Harry didn’t hurt.

And Tom couldn’t stop thinking about that. And it felt weird. Had it always been Harry? And did he have to tell him?

Because maybe y/n always thought about it, and she kept hanging out with him. But did it hurt her? That she never had the chance? That’s when it all started, didn’t it? Because it started with that, with Robbie being in love with someone else for the first time. Her, feeling like she’d lost her chance.

Right after she’d broken up with Tim, first she was heartbroken, sure she’d seen her. But Tom had… seen her with Harry, more and more. Which was different when Rome happened, when she shut everyone out.

But then Harry was serious with Emma. And y/n had said it: They shouldn’t get married.

Maybe that’s when she finally let him go, and that’s when Tom had stepped in. When Harry had declared he would get down on one knee. It made sense, y/n knowing she’d lost her chance for chasing someone who wasn’t meant to be, because she was too scared. Tom couldn’t get it.

But she didn’t have a box. And she’d run out of time, because she’d shut him out. These two months, she’d ignored Harry. Was she getting over him? And Tom maybe understood why she had said no to Timmy, not because of Tom, it was because of Harry. Because she didn’t look for Tom when she broke up with Timmy, no she looked for Harry, and she had avoided Tom, until that bet came. Until she said she’d make Tom fall in love with her, and she didn’t love him anymore.

But she… had said it? That she was in love with him. But was she? Tom had broken her so many times that he didn’t blame her, he didn’t blame her if she wasn’t in love with him.

Tom’s thoughts made no sense. And it had been rough. But he missed her, he really missed her. And he really wanted to get over this. He wished he hadn’t read it.

And he could believe it now, that she probably wasn’t going to hurt him, not in the way he’d expected. But in the worst way, the perfect perfidy. A perfect perfidy.

Make him and herself believe that it was Tom. Not Harry.

Because it probably had never been Tom.

Tom hadn’t slept, he hadn’t eaten and he hadn’t talked to his brother. He had seen her hanging out with Harry. And the smile she gave to Harry’s camera could only confirm it to Tom.

He’d even seen Emma’s stories, y/n had been with her once. ‘Maid of honor and bridesmaids and Timmy’. But she didn’t look happy. Only with Harry. But Timmy knew.

Timmy knew.

What if. Maybe that’s all Harry was. Her thoughts wondering what would’ve happened if she’d fallen in love with Harry instead, not Tom. But it was Harry.

It had always been Harry. Or she had wanted it to be Harry.

Tom didn’t get it. Tom didn’t get his own thoughts and maybe he hadn’t read what he was supposed to read. Although he had. He tried to convince himself that she loved him. Especially with what she’d said. “I always end up choosing you.” Because she did, she hated herself as much as Tom had hated her because she chose him, not Harry.

But that didn’t mean that she chose him because she wanted to. It was… complicated. But he wanted her to lie to him, somehow Tom wanted to keep believing her, that she’d always loved him.

And maybe that’s why he had somehow cheered up when she’d showed up again. She looked tired, dark circles around her eyes, and she looked weak. Tom was doing what he’d done the past few days, play video games.

She had stayed at the door frame, quietly. Tom glanced at her once and then continued playing. Sure, he’d missed her but he was still hurt.

Y/N quietly walked in and sat on the other side of the big couch as Tom kept his glanze glued to the TV.

He felt her staring and paused the game. “May I help you?” He asked harshly.

“Can we talk?” She asked.

“No, I’m playing,” he said and resumed his game.

Y/N crossed her arms, and rested her head on the couch. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

Tom frowned. “Prepare to be there all day, then.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got years of training, I’ll annoy you until you stop playing.”

He blinked and glanced at her. “What?”

“We were enemies first, remember? I know how to poke your guts, so I’ll just annoy you until you pay attention to me,” she stated. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Why?”

“We’re in a relationship, Tom, I’m not giving up on you only because you deal with your emotions like a two year old,” she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes but kept playing. She initially didn’t do anything, she was just scrolling on her phone. Tom did glance at her every now and then. Subconsciously both of them were scooting closer each time, until y/n was eventually resting her head against Tom’s shoulder. It felt weird, as if both of them only for a bit wanted to pause their thoughts, pause their sorrow and just be there for the other.

He missed her too much, no matter how angry and broken-hearted he had been, he couldn’t help but rest his own head against hers. But he knew they couldn’t get out of this one, not him. And he really didn’t want to ask about it because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

Because he knew that she’d been hurt and he was a monster. Tom was a monster. She’d done that to her. And he knew that she hadn’t even written how it had really been. Not her real heartbreak. Tom wondered if she’d really gone to the doctor, and if the doctor’s diagnosis had really been a heartbreak.

But Tom wondered a lot of things. If she loved him, if she didn’t. If what was written on paper was the truth. Because she believed he was a monster. Because Valerie was doing everything so she could dance, but was y/n doing everything so she could write?

She hadn’t really annoyed him, not really. Not like when they were kids and she’d scream to him, pinch him, yell, or whatever she could to either bother him, or make him give her the controller. No, she was quiet, and she was only texting, synchronizing her breathing to his. She was only texting Harry, and she wasn’t even telling him about Tom, it was just them being silly.

And Tom had to remember again, he was angry. Tom paused the game.

Y/N quickly looked up. “Finally, can we talk now?”

Tom only stood up, her head fell down to the couch, she frowned watching him storm off the room..

“Tom,” she called out as she followed him to the kitchen.

Tom ignored her as he opened the fridge. He wasn’t hungry, he hadn’t been for the past few days, but he kept staring inside. Y/N only hugged him from behind, he tried to shoulder her off, but she didn’t let him go.

“Tom, can we talk?” She mumbled into his back as she placed a kiss below his neck..

“No.” He closed the fridge door.

“Tom,” she whined as she let him go. “You’ve been ignoring me for the last few days, you yelled at me the day I came andI have no fucking clue why you’re angry or upset or whatever, I need to know.”

“Have you been eating these days?” Tom asked.

She blinked. “Tom can you please tell me something? What did I do wrong?” She pushed.

He paced around the kitchen. “Hm, are you hungry?”

“Tom, did I do something wrong?” She insisted. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. I miss you, okay? I love you and I… I’m maybe clingy or needy but fuck, I miss you and I fucking hate going to bed alone, and it’s only been a few days but I… Please, don’t take this away from me. Why are you ignoring me? Why are you upset?”

“I…” He finally turned to her. “I think I’m gonna order a pizza.” He said to himself as he took out his phone.

“Thomas, what the fuck,” she snapped.

“Cheese pizza, right?” He asked as he turned back to the call.

She rolled her eyes, as she leaned against the wall watching him as he finished the call.

“Tom, can you stop ignoring me?” She insisted as she walked back to him, she cupped his face. “Please?”

He looked down at her lips.

“Tom?”

He pushed her to the wall, he brushed his lips against hers, as her breathing got heavy, she tried to connect their lips together but Tom pulled away, left her and then made his way to his leaving room. Frustrated, y/n followed after him.

He didn’t want to hurt her, not really. But he knew that by ignoring her, she was frustrated. He’d learned that over the years, y/n hated being ignored. Besides he really didn’t want to talk to her, so this was a win-win situation.

“Tom,” she sat beside him, and Tom walked away to the single couch. “Tom, what the fuck, can you at least tell me why you’re mad?”

He looked up at her, as he finally could turn on his speakers, he played a very particular song. “Valerie.” Amy Winehouse. He turned the volume up as he sang along, loudly.

Y/N only sat there, confused, watching him.

“Tom this is very immature,” she pointed out.

He only kept singing, looking at her every time he sang Valerie. She picked up a cushion and threw it at his face, he laughed cynically but rolled his eyes, throwing it back at her.

“I’m not playing, Tom.”

“Good, I’m not either,” he smirked. “Valerie,” he dragged an awful note.

“This would be so fucking easier if you weren’t a stupid kid, still,” she had said.

She stayed quiet for a while as Tom kept playing louder music.

Harrison had come down, “man can you please--turn the volume down?” He complained and then saw y/n. “Oh, hi, y/n. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Hi,” she said, bored and tired of trying to get Tom to talk.

Tom frowned. “Wait didn’t you open the door for her?”

“I borrowed a key from Harry,” she admitted.

Tom clenched his jaw and stormed off the room.

Haz rolled his eyes, watching as y/n turned off the speakers. She paced around the living room.

“Still ignoring you?” Haz asked.

“Yep,” she clenched her jaw. “Haz,” she sighed. “I really…I want to give up,” she shrugged.

Haz bit his lip. “It’s complicated.”

“You do know why he’s acting that way, right?” Y/N wondered.

Haz sighed. “I… It’s none of my business, really. Just talk to him.”

“Is it because of Tim?” She asked him. “Because...He was in my room, and I dunno, maybe he saw I still have… Some of Timmy’s belongings but I’ve been-”

“Y/N, I really don’t know.”

“I don’t know, I’m not the only one he’s ignoring, apparently he’s ignoring Harry, too,” she commented. “It’d be easier if he fucking talked to me, so tell him that I won’t try anymore.”

Haz watched her with pity. She left.

Tom didn’t even reach out to her again, and she had ceased her texting, her calling. Harry had reached out to him, though. Once, asking him not to make a scene with y/n at his engagement, asking him to hold their fight until the party was over.

Emma and Harry’s long awaited engagement party had come and even though Tom Wasn't sure if he was invited after days—almost weeks of ignoring his brother, he had showed up, clean and handsome. He really didn’t want to be there. A dinner, that’s what Emma’s parents had come up with. Elegant. Simple. At their garden, beautifully decorated now, with lightbulbs hanging around.

Emma’s hands didn’t leave Harry’s, and he was sure he’d never seen his brother as bright. Maybe he had. Even happier, with his eyes shining more. But Tom didn’t have to do anything. Instead he was pacing around with a beer in his hand, avoiding any kind of conversation.

He’d seen Tim, pacing around, too. He’d stayed close to Emma. Tim had been observant, and he probably had noticed Tom had walked in, not alone, but with someone by his side. That someone wasn’t y/n.

Tom cursed his decision making process and hated himself for inviting Madison. Although, Madison probably didn’t think much of it, as long as Madison knew, Tom was still dating y/n.

Everyone still thought that. And technically, he… still was. He hadn’t given her any explanation. He had given no one an explanation.

“Where’s y/n?” Nikki asked as soon as she saw Tom fidgeting near the bar. Or the excuse of a bar with only a table where a guy was serving drinks.

Tom ordered a glass of whiskey to the bartender, and shrugged. “Uh—Not here yet.”

“Why didn’t you pick her up?” Nikki asked.

Tom sipped of his drink. “Mum, she has a car.”

Nikki frowned. “And?”

“She had some things to do,” Tom added. “Uh—“

“Are you guys okay?”

Tom didn’t have the guts to tell anything to her mother. How could she tell her? What would she tell her?

“Mum, perfectly,” he lied.

“And Madison?” Nikki pushed.

“She’s just a friend,” Tom Insisted. “Really, nothing to worry about.”

Nikki watched him, she wasn’t buying it. “And What about y/n?”

“My girlfriend? I love her, with all my heart, don’t worry, she just had to pick some stuff up and insisted that I should be here with my brother.”

Nikki gave him a suspicious glance before walking away.

Harrison approached him. “Why did you even invite—what’s her name?”

“Madison,” Tom said.

“To make y/n jealous?” Haz asked. “Like that will solve any of your problems.”

Tom hadn’t thought about that. He really didn’t know why he had invited Madison. He knew y/n didn’t like her, Madison had once technically called y/n a whore for “sleeping with her boss”, and she didn’t like her since. Maybe it was in his nature, y/n had been his enemy for a long time. And it felt like he was paying her off for the script.

But of course now that he saw Madison there, speaking to Sam, and then also to Timothee, he knew he had fucked it up.

“I dunno,” Tom admitted. “Didn’t want to arrive alone, less with Tim here.”

“You could’ve called your actual girlfriend,” Haz pushed. “Although you’re not in speaking terms because you’re fucking avoiding her, that would solve it, and do you think Timmy cares if you walk in with Maddie? If anything you’re basically giving him y/n away.”

“He’s not the one for her anyway,” Tom snaked as he gulped down his whiskey in one single shot.

“That’s utter bullshit,” Haz explained. “I thought you would talk with her.”

“Well, we didn’t, and tonight is most certainly not the day we make up,” Tom gave him a cynical smirk before walking back to the bar, he ordered some gin and tonic, with a lime.

“I’m so fed up with you, ah, great she’s here,” Haz said.

And as he turned around back to see the party, Tom had seen her walk in, a very light sweet yellow flowered dress, elegant, the drapes falling to her knees, a golden necklace around her neck, and her usual red lips. She had wandered in alone first, confused and sad. She looked around the place and her eyes initially landed on Harry and Emma, over by Emma’s parents, a sad smile formed across her lips. But then her sight continued and finally landed on Tom, he looked away and gulped. Y/N kept staring at him before giving up. Eventually, James walked behind her.

They continued her way across the garden, quietly and carefully. She didn’t say hello to anybody, James had stopped to say hello to some friends and family, and she just made her way to the bar, walking right past Tom, brushing his shoulder.

Tom clenched his jaw, as he turned to see her. Haz chuckled, seeing how the tables had turned.

“Y/N, hello,” Haz greeted her, approaching her.

“Hi,” she gave him a quick smile, but then turned to the bartender. “Gin and tonic, please, and if you could add a lime in there, that would be lovely.”

Haz chuckled, “huh, could’ve sworn someone just ordered the same.”

Y/N directed her gaze at Tom, “Ah, great,” she watched him. “Meant to be,” she sassed as she waited for her drink.

“Hi, y/n,” Tom mumbled.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now, good to know,” she rolled her eyes as the bartender handed her her glass. She walked away. Tom followed after her,he took her hand and stopped her.

She sighed as she turned to him. “May I help you?”

“You look beautiful,” Tom said.

She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, you look… beautiful too.”

“Yellow flowers?” He asked looking at the dress, as he stepped in closer.

She shrugged and cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. “Found the dress, it was pretty,” she said. “I—I guess we have to act normal, right? We don’t want our family to know we’re about to break up huh, not after we just made them so happy.”

Tom pursed his lips, ignoring her comment. “I tried to call you earlier,” Tom said. “To pick you up.”

“Yeah, I know, I didn’t want to come,” she admitted. “I’m not exactly fond of this engagement.”

Tom felt it again. He started questioning it, if it was because she didn’t think Emma and Harry were meant to be or if it was because she’d run out of time for her.

“Really?”

“Or maybe I just didn’t want to pretend I was fine in front of your family and mine,” she said.

“You do look sad,” Tom pointed out.

She cackled dryly. “And one might only wonder why.”

Tom took a deep breath, and then gulped. “I—“

“Tom—Oh, hi, y/n!” Madison had come just in time to interrupt. “Y/N, love why are you here?”

Y/N blinked with surprise. “Why—excuse me?” She looked between them. “Why am I—why am I here?”

“Yeah, thought you and Tom had a fight,” Madison said.

“I—really, that’s—that’s what he told you,” she blinked watching between them.

“No—No, I didn’t,” Tom intervened quickly. “No.”

“Well, I happen—I—“ y/n didn’t even know what to say.

“Honestly whenever I had a fight with my boyfriend I wouldn’t show up to the places where he’d be,” Madison insisted, she stank of alcohol, she’d probably had too many glasses.

“Well, I—I am still the maid of honor,” y/n smiled. “Now—if you’ll excuse me—I’ll—“she quickly walked past Tom and flicked his hand away as he tried to stop her.

Tom followed after her, calling for her but she’d arrived with Harry.

“Harry,” Tom gulped. He hadn’t even said hello to him.

“Tom,” Harry looked between them. “Children behave, both of you.”

“Oh, I will behave,” y/n sassed, watching Tom.

Tom scoffed. “Oh, you will now?” He snapped back.

“I’m not the one causing a scene, Thomas,” she hissed.

“And wouldn’t you love that?” He snapped. “That’s all you want.”

Harry rolled his eyes and walked away.

“I’m not the one who fucking brought someone else,” she snapped.

He shrugged. “She’s a friend.”

“Ah, yes sure, and you didn’t bring her to make a statement,” she growled.

“Says yellow flowers,” he snapped.

“I don’t even know why you’re angry at me,” she crossed her arms. “You literally have no right to call me out for a dress--”

“Oh, and it was a coincidence-”

“Dom, hello!” She changed her frown for a smile as she turned to Tom’s father.

“Y/N, you look lovely,” Dom grinned. “Hadn’t seen you around, thought you’d arrive with Tom here.”

“Oh no, no, I just got here, had to do… some stuff,” she grinned. Tom gulped as he awkwardly walked to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Dom smiled. “Ah, great,” he nodded. “So how’s everything going? Have you finished your script?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “Yeah, good, yeah, I um.. I yeah, I finished it, it’s… It’s, yeah.”

“What’s it about?” Dom asked with a smile.

She coughed. “It’s uh, about an aspiring dancer in the 80’s,” she said.

“Really?” Tom frowned. “That’s all it is about?”

Dom frowned watching between them.

“Yeah,” she nodded, as she turned to glare at Tom, mostly confused. “It’s about a dancer, and well, you know, a love story but--.”

Dom nodded. “Ah, I’d love to read it, it’s always a pleasure reading you.”

Tom chuckled. “Yeah, I’d love that too.”

Dom probably felt the tension between the two and decided to walk away.

“I thought we were going to behave,” y/n snaked and Tom shrugged.

“No, I just… really want to know about your script,” he watched her. “You’ve never told me about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you won’t get to know,” she said as she started to walk away. “Oh, we’re behaving, right?” She only came back to kiss his cheek before making her way to an empty table.

Timmy walked to the table, and he said hello, y/n initially hesitated but then as she saw Tom watching them, she invited him to sit with her.

It bothered Tom. So he only stayed close to the bar, ordering Tequila, rum, whiskey, whatever the bartender could offer him. Madison had stayed close to him, and he really needed the alcohol to get through this.

He’d seend y/n talk to Emma and Harry, and y/n and Harry had taken some pictures together. He’d seen y/n again, alone with Emma as they stared at the ring, y/n looked sad. She’d talked to Sam, to her brother, to some other friends. Everyone but Tom, she’d been avoiding her. And Tom was angry, everything he’d bottled up for the past days was slowly trying to come out. Mixing that with the alcohol wasn’t a good idea.

And his thoughts had gone back to the dark place. Y/N had only searched for Tom when she was lonely, everytime she broke up with someone, something happened. Or when she was lonely in Rome. Because it wasn’t Tom.

It was Harry, and it was obvious. It’d always been Harry. He’d seen her throw her head back laughing, and the way she’d magically turned happy when Harry was around. Not like when Tom, where she was cautious, no she didn’t have to.

And Tom now not only wanted what she’d had with Timmy, no, he wanted what she had with Harry. But he could never have that. He could fake what she’d had with Tim, but how could he ever have what Harry has with her?

Tom was drinking, more and more, and the dinner came eventually, everyone sitting down, soft music playing in the background. And y/n had sat near with Tom, as he was drinking even more. Everything was blurry now, and the music was only accentuating the drink.

His father gave a speech, Emma’s father gave another one, and Tom found it as an invitation to talk, too.

He didn’t hesitate twice. The song playing in the background was so chaotic, as if it was cueing him to talk. 70’s song, he could tell. He didn’t know the song but it was perfect.

“Hi, everyone, can I—get everyone’s attention I’m so—So happy to be here,” Tom yelled, before burping. Everyone turned to look at him as he stared at Harry and Emma. Harry shot a glare at his brother. “Emma, you look lovely, Harry man, so—proud of you.”

Y/N stood up and tried to pull him down. “Tom, sit down you’re drunk, don’t make a scene,” she whispered.

“Y/N, love,” he looked at her. “What a lovely dress you’re wearing sit down, you’ll—you’ll actually be quite important here.”

She frowned, as she tried to pull him down to sit. “Tom.”

He burped. “So, we are here gathered up to celebrate this guy for getting down on one knee huh? Yes that’s—so bloody amazing,” he chuckled.

“Tom,” her voice was dark.

He turned to her, sloppily kissed her cheek. “I’ll be with you in moment love,” he said shrugging off her hands. “so, okay, it’s—amazing, right? Finding the love of your life and loving them back it’s amazing isn’t it, to find the one, your one and only—soulmates if you all believe in that crap,” He laughed. “How incredible it is that two people find each other.”

“Tom,” this time it was her mother.

“Tom, can you please?”Y/N insisted.

“Y/N—let me be,” he frowned as the room was turning around. He was dizzy, and his movements were very slow. “You know what? ladies and gentleman, actually, here—y/n, her,” he pulled her into a side hug. “Dunno if you know her she’s the maid of honor, beautiful girl, talented.”

“Thomas,” Harry warned.

Harrison approached him. “Tom, come on, sit down.”

“I’m trying to give a speech to my brother, shh,” Tom laughed. “I—look, I would’ve written a speech but we all know I’m not the writer here, no, no I’m not y/n, am I?” he laughed. “She’s a screenplay writer and she’s amazing at what she does you know? Incredible stories and I—I read something of her lately. About how people fall in love, and people--hic-- breaking each other’s hearts.” He managed to say between dizzy and slurred words.

Y/N froze.

“It’s… It’s stupid, if you love someone and they don’t… they don’t love you back, huh? And it’s horrible when you don’t love who you want to love” Tom laughed. “It’s…I’m really glad you found Emma, brother, because the love of your life didn’t love you back, huh? It’s good you settled down.” He had continued between burps and drunken giggles. “Let’s hope Emma actually loves you and isn’t planning to pull a—what’s it called? Perfidy? Right, y/n? Let’s hope Emma actually loves you back and isn’t planning on breaking your heart.”

“Thomas,” Dom had approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The crowd started to mumble. And Harry was telling him to stop. Y/N couldn’t move.

But everyone seemed to be frozen too, as if even if they wanted to stop him they were too invested in this to stop him.

“No, no, it’s true, Harry here had been in love with her, with y/n his whole life and he couldn’t get her and that’s how life is sometimes,” he laughed. “Ah dad, remember you asked about her script? It’s amazing, I read it! she wrote how she actually did love Harry back! We were all wrong, it’s always been Harry, don’t worry Tim, it wasn’t me, it’s not you, it was Harry” He laughed. “At one point but guess what? It’s my bloody fault they’re not together—“

Harrison finally managed to tackle the drunken Tom, who was very dizzy, tipsy and blurry to even know the whole chaos he’d caused with just a few words.

He didn’t even know what had happened, or how he got to the entrance with Sam, his father, his mother and even James yelling at him. He was too drunk to even listen, they were all angry.

Dom and Nikki eventually left as he was going to apologize to Emma’s family. It was all chaos.

“Where’s—where’s y/n?” That’s all he could ask.

“You’re—You’re really fucking asking that?” Sam yelled. “What the fuck was that?”

“I told the truth,” he hiccuped.

Haz frowned. “By fucking ruining your brother’s engagement party and even his fucking engagement, too?”

“He loves y/n,” Tom continued “which by the way—“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Y/N’s voice was heard.

“Nothing, darling, I just fucking made your life easier, so you can benwith the actual love of your life, ” Tom snapped.

She had been crying, she turned to Sam and Harrison. “Give me a minute with him, please.”

Sam watched her, hurt.

“Sam, please,” she begged and they stepped back, giving them space.

Tom saw her and then started to walk away, trying to look for his car.

“Oh, no, Tom,” she rushed after him, stopping him, “What the fuck was that?”

He laughed, and shrugged. “I’m just—I’m a monster y/n, what can I say?”

“So fine, you read the fucking script,” she raised her voice. “You didn’t have to pull a scene.”

“Ha, don’t you love it, it’s perfect!” He raised his arms. “You can use that on your script!”

“For god’s sake, Tom, why did you—Was that the reason why you kept ignoring me? And now you do this? You ruined everything!”

“So, go write it then!” He growled. “Make some fucking money out of it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she cried.

“No, I do.”

“Did you even read the fucking thing?” She barked. “Seems like you just fucking read one page!”

“I did read it,” he admitted. “And I’m a monster ain’t I? I’m just looking to hurt you and bloody hell you’re right y/n, why would I—why would I ever fucking love you? You never know what’s going on with you.”

She was holding back her tears. “I love you, Tom I didn’t mean to—“She looked away. “I didn’t want to hurt you! I never thought this would happen—but you’re so bloody stupid, Tom!”

“Is that my name really? Or is it William?” He fumed. “And I should start calling you Valerie, shouldn't I?”

She closed her eyes. “Is that—the song, Tom, oh my god but why—did you have to do this?”

“Because you were sad anyway! You bloody want to be with Harry!” He claimed. “And—I’m fucking helping you with that.”

“I don’t, Tom!” She hissed, “I—and now you’ve ruined my friendship, and now you’ve ruined your brothers engagement all because you fucking didn’t ask about it, why did you even have to do that? It’s a bloody story!”

Tom walked away. “No it’s not, you know that.”

“I love you Tom,” she stated. “It's a story! I was—I didn’t mean to hurt you, and i certainly didn’t fucking want this mess! I—Why did you have to do this?”

“No, you don't! You don’t love me, you just fell in love with your writings, with the idea of what it would be to have your childhood crush fall in love with you, and you settled! because that’s all you want the fucking aesthetic the fucking story but you don’t live y/n, nothing matters to you!” He snapped.

“You matter to me,” she snapped. “If you fucking didn’t matter I wouldn’t be out here fucking trying to mend things! You really think I would be here? Even after that you just did?”

Tom avoided her glance. “Yet you still wrote that.”

“And I was going to tell you!”

Tom scoffed. “What for, anyway? This was just a good fuck and that’s it, should’ve stayed there and it doesn’t matter because it meant nothing.”

She stepped back. “You can’t say it meant nothing.”

“I think I just did, and alright I was hurt but—Hey, I’m gonna get over it, and you just lost everything, Tim, Harry, me, I don’t even think Sam will talk to you after this,” he pushed. “So I think I’m fine with this, for my own revenge without even planning on it, go be lonely again y/n because you fucking deserve it!”

She stepped even more far from him. “You really—want to blame this on me.”

“May I remind you what you wrote of me?” Tom crossed his arms. “How you fucking started dating me because of a script?”

“I didn’t—I—“

“You did, initially.”

“I’ve been in love with you my entire fucking life and—It was a shitty thing to do but I swear Tom, I didn’t mean to—“

“You didn’t? You just got a job out of it, you perfectly knew you wanted this,” he barked. “You know what? You’re a good actress made me believe you actually wanted this, maybe you should consider pursuing that instead, not writing!”

“I was not pretending anything,” she sighed,

“You lied y/n.”

“I didn’t lie.”

More people were walking out of the party and they watched them, fighting in the middle of the road. Y/N dragged him to the other side of the road.

“I didn’t lie.”

“Withholding information is a lie,” Tom pointed out.

“I—I didn’t tell you because I was going to rewrite it,” she gulped.

“No you weren’t , y/n, you—“

“Tom, I was planning to tell you I just—“ she pursed her lips. “I didn’t want to ruin this.”

“Well you did!” He continued walking away. “Have fun with the script, it’s not even good by the way, utter bullshit!”

She laughed, “Yeah, I know, they rejected it.”

He turned and smirked, raising his arms in the air. “That’s excellent news then.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole,” she yelled at him.

“And besides how could I love someone as shitty who knew—You knew Harry was in love with you and you did nothing? And you fell in love with him—“

“You don’t understand anything!”

“Ah, I know because I’m the—What words did you use? dumbest person you’ve ever met?” He chuckled walking back to her, “that was it, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t—“

“It was there y/n, but don’t worry, I’m okay, I understand this, this was just to get back at me for the fucking yellow flowers, is the dress your way telling me that you won?”

She was crying now. “You didn’t read it—“

He watched her, incredulous, “I don’t think I have to y/n!” He bellowed. “I think I read enough—and oh my god I was so stupid thinking it was Tim—“

She gulped. “Tom.”

“Piss off, y/n,” he continued walking down the street. His car was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t even have his keys.

“No, Tom, please—I really—“she ran to him again. “I really love you I didn’t mean to—“

“No, y/n, you dont, you never did but hey that’s on me isn’t it? For being such a monster and such an asshole.”

“And you’re still acting like one! Look what you did!”

“You made me do that—You know what? You don’t even know my side to this story, how you never cared, how nothing I did cared, because hey, I tried my whole life to show it to you and you never cared! You would’ve noticed how much I loved you if only you’d just paid attention but nothing matters to you unless it’s something you can use in your-I don’t even know, you know you probably were just prancing around you were in love with me so you could play the victim because yes I was bad but—Jesus you—You never felt anything for me how was I so stupid! I feel like—You weren't even hurt and it was just what you thought should happen like your movies or whatever, because I don’t even think you ever loved me! That’s it!” He laughed.

“How can you say that? I made a mistake!” She babbled.

“And I’ve made them too but I don’t go around writing it—“

“You fucking made a speech ruining everything! Don’t you think that’s worse?” She cried.

“And you loved Harry?”

She stayed quiet. Tom licked his lips as he rubbed his face.

“Well?”

“Yes at some point but you have to understand—“she turned her voice calmer. “When he’s shown me his whole life that he loved me I did—think about it and you pull this kind of shit and you expect me to be okay?” She chided. “Yet I choose you.”

“Do you?”

“Even after that shit you just fucking pulled, even after that I’m here trying to fucking—I don’t even know what Im doing, even after that—I still love you what the fuck do you think that is?”

Tom shook his head. “Well I don’t, y/n I can’t love someone so bloody selfish.”

“I’m the selfish one?” She croaked. “When you just fucking ruined your brothers party? Am I really the selfish one?”

“Why didn’t you choose Harry?” Tom asked.

She watched him with frustration. “You can’t possibly—“

“It was before Rome, wasn’t it?”

“You knew it, you fucking knew it, Tom,” she clenched her jaw. “it was like you planned it, don’t play the victim here, before Rome, you saw it and you couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t stand that it was him for the first time and not you—“

Tom stepped back. “That’s not true.”

“Then why did you go to Rome? You had nothing to do there and you know it!” She called him out.

Tom gulped. “I didn’t.”

She was sobbing now, Tom saw Harrison and Sam Approaching them.

“Tom—I don’t even, Harry is happy with Emma, I was happy with you— why did you do this?”

“Because we don’t fucking work, I’m too hurt to pretend I love you.”

She nodded, and then chuckled. “To pretend—“

“I’m fucking leaving.”

“Great, I’ll go fix your fucking mess,” she yelled at him as she rushed back into the house.

But there are first times, and there are last times. It’s just a matter of retrospective to see if it's the end of a beginning or the beginning of an end, even if both of them showed how big of perfidy they can pull.

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parkertech · 4 years

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Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 6

a/n: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, slight smut

———————————————————————

The room seemed to shrink more and more as seconds were spent in pure silence. Peter never left his glaring eyes from you, eyeing how you couldn’t look at him. Instead you kept twirling your fingers and looking at them.

You knew eventually the secret would be out, but now that it became a reality, it was way more intense than you thought it was going to be. You’ve never seen Peter look at you like that. It’s always been smiles and laughter, twinkling eyes and happiness. Now, it’s silence and glares, hands in tight fists and waiting for someone to say something. Peter was getting impatient by the minute, and was tired of the rather very undeserved silence you were giving.

“Speak.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a demand. His void was raspy and cold, causing shivers to run down your back and goosebumps to arrive on your skin. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it immediately afterwards. You wanted to scream sorry and confess your heart out. You just wanted to drop all your walls and let it all out. But the words wouldn’t come up. It obviously didn’t make Peter happy. It only made him angrier.

“SPEAK!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. He ignored how you flinched and stepped away from him. All his friends could have easily heard him, but that wasn’t his focus either. His focus was on how betrayed and hurt he felt. You never kept secrets from him, especially something this big. His heart was aching from your actions, and it overcame all his senses and gave him no control.

“I....I-I’m sorry...” you whispered under your breath. Peter scoffed. Then chuckled. And then chuckled again. Now he was laughing in disbelief.

“Sorry? Sorry? That’s what you’re going with?” You knew it was a bad starter, and Peter was in complete disbelief. He deserved way more than just a sorry. “What are you sorry for, Y/N? Hiding the fucking fact that you’re my supposed ‘soulmate’?” Something about the way he said soulmate made you lose the shy demeanor, which was replaced with an anger mirroring his.

“Yes! Of course I’m sorry for that! ‘Oh, let me go up to my boy best friend since middle school and tell him the tattoo is his name when he has a fucking girlfriend!“ Peter groaned and looked away, knowing you were somewhat right. But you did more than hide it.

“Okay, yeah, sure, but you said it was Brad! You lied to me!” The haunting memory came back, and it was your turn to look away.

“I had to come up with something! If I didn’t you would’ve been on my ass about it!” You sighed and started rubbing your temples, trying to calm down. “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna say anything! Because you’re in love with...MJ.” For some reason, that last sentence was hard to get out. It knocked the wind right out of you, causing your chest to ache and your eyes to tear up. Peter noticed and looked down at his shoes, his own memories coming back.

“I....I’m not anymore...” he mumbled meekly.

“What...?” You started wide eyed at him, taken aback by his sentence. He’s always been in love with her. Ever since the beginning. He’s done everything for her. He must be lying. That’s the only explanation. “Listen, Pete...my hearts already been broken from this...you don’t have to lie.”

It was Peter’s turn to look at you in disbelief. Heartbroken? What?

“What do you mean?” You sighed, knowing exactly what to say at that moment. The secret was already out. No point in hiding anymore...

“Peter...I’ve been in love with you since freshman year, I was just really good at hiding it. D-Do you remember the week where I went M.I.A?” He nodded and swallowed hard. “That was because I saw you kiss MJ...hence the whole ‘heartbreak’ thing. I went through it already and I don’t want to have to go through it again, so don’t lie and say you love me.” You couldn’t hide back the pain in your voice. Peter’s head was running one hundred miles per hour, causing him to sit down on his bed, running his hands through his hair.

He took in your words and your confession slowly. Heartbreak. Kissing MJ. You love him. As crazy as it sounds, he didn’t even hang onto the fact that you loved him. And he was your soulmate. It all clicked when you really looked at it. Peter didn’t know whether to love it or hate it.

For some reason, Peter’s silence led you to slowly sit down next to him. He kept looking away from you, keeping his elbow on his knee and his hand in his curls. You took a deep breath, realizing he wasn’t going to say anything. “Like I was saying...you love MJ. And I’m with Brad, so...maybe we can put this behind us and act like it never happened?” You proposed. Peter sniffed and looked at you and disbelief.

“We cannot put something like this behind us. And I don’t love MJ, I said it already.” Still in disbelief, you titled your head and squinted your eyes slightly.

“If you don’t love her then why are you still in a relationship with her?” You were putting him on the spot, and now it was Peter’s turn for his anxiety to grow.

“Because I don’t wanna hurt her, Y/N! MJ’s a cool person, but I don’t like her as a girlfriend anymore. I don’t love her anymore.” You watched intently as he kept his eyes trained on yours. Your face fell in realization. He was telling the truth. “I...I love you.” He whispered. For some reason the air became thicker and the only thing in that small bedroom was him. His eyes never left yours, as you both kept staring at each other.

There was some sort of black hole that was aching between you two, causing to slowly pull closer to him. Peter saw as your widened eyes softened, and he titled his head towards yours. His diverted from your lips, then your eyes, then back at your lips again. You were leaning more closer now. So close, that Peter’s breath was tickling your nose and cheeks. In an agonizing and long few seconds, you felt his soft lips on yours, and your shoulders relax. Peter hummed softly into the kiss, feeling his own weight being lifted off his chest. There goes the butterflies in his tummy, and his flushed, red cheeks. Your self consciousness was turned off, as you decided to keep initiating the kiss, and press your lips more firmly against his.

Slightly taken aback, Peter’s lips stuttered before moving with yours. Soft, gentle pecks turned into slow, passionate open mouthed kisses, and you found yourself needing to pull away at the lack of oxygen. Your forehead never left his, both of your eyes hooded and your pants mixing. You looked up into Peter’s eyes, and then his face. Something about how flushed his lips and cheeks were made that familiar desire crawl back all over your body. You didn’t hesitate to fist his t-shirt in both your hands, and yank him towards you for another kiss.

Peter groaned before kissing you back with just as much force, causing a rhythmic smacking sound erupt in the room. His hand started slowly crawling up your hip, gripping it tightly. You softly whimpered before hiking both of your legs next to his hips, straddling him. The position got you closer to Peter, making that fire in your explore even more. To say you’ve dreamed about this day would be an understatement.

Peter was beginning to grow impatient as he pulled away, trailing his kisses down your jawline. You tilted your head back, giving him more access and freedom to do whatever he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened, surely leaving marks as his lips danced on your neck. You gasped as he kissed your sweet spot, feeling Peter smirk against that same spot. He started sucking and nipping, causing you to softly moan into his ear, gripping his chocolate curls and tugging. He groaned into your neck before smoothing the red mark with his tongue. You closed your eyes and hummed, causing Peter to be more aggressive and start sucking more marks into your neck.

Sure, you’ve had your first kiss before, but they compared nothing to what was happening now. No one kissed you like this before. Especially not Brad.

Wait, Brad!

“P-Pete...” you whispered softly. Peter misunderstood your sound for one of pleasure, and started sucking even harder. As good as it felt, you knew how wrong it was and started to gently push against his chest. But he couldn’t seem to take the hint, being completely entranced by you. You started pulling away from him and hitting his chest more firmly. “Peter!”

Peter heard your alarmed cry and looked up at you panicked. “W-what? What did I do?” A million thoughts ran through his mind, but his main one was that he mad you uncomfortable and fucked everything up. His hair was a mess, now being a messy plop of curls, his chest heaving up and down from how passionate the moment was. You took one last glance at how perfect he looked, no matter how messy he was, before getting off his lap and losing his touch entirely.

“T-This is wrong...so wrong.” Peter swallowed hard and looked at you embarrassed, while you tried to smooth your hair down and collect yourself.

“I’m sorry-“ Peter started.

“D-Don’t, just...never speak of this again.” You looked at him with slightly teary eyes before opening the door and storming down the hallway. You quickly grabbed your phone from the couch where everyone was sleeping and made a beeline for the front door, practically slamming it down and sprinting towards your house.

Peter was still in slight shock, trying to process what happened. He knew it was wrong, but you kept imitating it. So who’s fault is it? Fuck, what if MJ finds out? He would hurt her more than ever. He thought he got this weight off his shoulders already, but you pulling away from him made it come back twice as heavy. He groaned and hid his hands in face, sitting in silence with nothing but his thoughts. Now he definitely had no choice. He had to tell MJ as soon as possible.

———

Peter tried texting you before going to bed, but you never even opened them. His stomach was stuck in knots that couldn’t be untangled, the nights events replaying in his head. He kept his hands buried in his pockets and his head down, taking occasional glances so he could see where he was going in the sea of students. He glanced up and saw MJ leaning against his locker looking left and right. He blew some air out, mentally preparing himself before standing next to her. She sent a friendly and sweet smile before kissing his cheek.

“Hey, loser.” She mumbled. He chuckled a bit at the nickname, knowing this might be the last time he’ll ever hear it.

“H-Hey, um, I-I have to talk to you...” He said meekly. MJ’s smile didn’t change as he kept looking at him.

“Okay, yeah, one second, Y/N!” She shouted from the hall. Peter looked behind her, and saw you chatting with Brad at the lockers not too far from them. He noticed you were wearing a turtleneck, probably to hide the hickeys he unintentionally gave you last night. Once he locked eyes with you he looked down and cleared his throat. “Can you come here for a sec? Bring Brad with you.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at Brad, only to find him mirroring you. He shrugged slightly before walking with you in front of MJ.

“Hey MJ, what’s up?” You asked cautiously. Peter was silent and glaring daggers at Brad, who had an arm around your shoulder. Much to his please, you gently shrugged it off and kept your attention on MJ.

“Nothin’ just thought I’d need you all 3 for this right here.” MJ pulled out her phone and turned it on it’s side, so the screen was now in a horizontal view. You all moved closer to her and looked at her phone. You felt your heart drop and your face pale.

It was a video of you and Peter from last night, making out—you straddling his waist. The smacking sounds and soft moans didn’t make it better, and your ears started ringing while Peter’s throat started growing a lump at the bottom.

“Y/N...are you fucking kidding me?” Brad asked you, pure anger lacing his voice. You looked up at him, your eyes glossy in tears, your mouth open in shock. “When the fuck was this?”

“Last night. At Peter’s birthday party.” MJ answered for him. Her voice was calm in the most disturbing way, not an ounce of hurt or betrayal in it. You saw as Brad’s jaw clenched, his own betrayal showing through.

“Why the fuck would you do this, Y/N?!” MJ scoffed and turned to Peter.

“Yeah, Peter. Why would you do this, too?” None of you had an answer as Peter looked down at his beat up shoes and you stared at Brad’s hurt expression. The next few seconds are spent in silence before Brad scoffs and turns away from you, starting to walk away.

“Brad, wait!” You chased after him as Peter eyed you, feeling guilt slowly eat him up. He turned to MJ’s emotionless glare and swallowed thickly.

“In case it’s wasn’t obvious, we’re over, and you’re fucking dead to me.” MJ demanded. Her voice was now cold and aggressive, making her even more intimidating than before. She slammed her locker door, causing Peter to flinch. “Have fun with your soulmate, Peter.” MJ spat out, before turning away and walking to her first class, leaving Peter at his locker, the aching in his chest alternating between softening and becoming even more painful.

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