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softiecaro · 2 years

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BEGIN AGAIN — PIERRE GASLY

summary: aurora had a toxic relationship in which she was trapped for 5 years. when she believes that she will not be able to feel loved by anyone in her life, pierre gasly arrives.

pairing: pierre gasly x aurora (reader)

words: 3.4K

warning: some bad words. also, english is not my native language, so any spelling or writing error is the fault of the translator hehe.

notes: i didn't put the lyrics of the song as I had done with the previous chapters, but only wrote situations about some parts of the song. Anyway, you can listen to it while reading the chapter, however you like. In addition, this will be narrated in the first person by the protagonist (if you read "question...?" with Lando, you will be able to remember her ;) )

MASTERLIST TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS SERIES

I wouldn't consider myself the biggest fan of Formula 1, but I have seen it for a while. One of the reasons I started following this motorsport was because of my best friend, Maia, who is an F1 journalist and was given the opportunity to start working with them a few years ago. So consequently, I was aware of everything that was constantly happening in that world, I knew all the names of the drivers, and I even followed some of them on Instagram.

—Come on Aurora, Lando is waiting for us downstairs.—My friend Maia had invited me to watch the race that week,so now we are at the hotel while she hurry me from outside my room and I desperately searched for my bag to get out.

—Here it is, here it is. I am sorry. Let's go.

When we pull into the parking lot, I see Lando in his Mclaren uniform in his fancy car smiling at us.

—Good morning Aurora.— Lando says as he keeps looking at me with that weird smile in the rearview mirror.— Ready to meet the love of your life?

—What are you talking about? Weird.— I say confused as I put on lip gloss.

—You didn’t tell her?— Lando ask his girlfriend.

—Why would I tell her our top secret plan, Lando, now it’s screwed it up.

—What are you talking about?

—Maia and I are going to introduce you to someone in the paddock, you will fall in love with him and then we can have double dates...

—Very delicate Lando… please stop.—Maia hits him on the arm.

—No, guys, I don't need to meet anyone. Not for now…

Context: Exactly 8 months ago I had broken up with my boyfriend of almost 5 years. I was the one who decided to end it and honestly it took me a long time to make the decision, even though all my friends told me how toxic the relationship was and how bad he was doing to me.

Since then, Lando and Maia had tried to convince me to meet other guys, but after I told them that I wasn't ready yet, they stopped insisting. Apparently now they had ignored my continuous denials.

—Please, we both think he's perfect for you. We will only introduce him to you, just that. He doesn't know anything. And if you don't like him or just doesn't catch your attention, you leave it there.

What could go wrong? What if it was time to leave the past behind and meet new guys?

—What does that silence mean?— Maia turns to look at me with a giant smile.

—I'm just thinking, shut it.

—She's thinking about it!— She whispers to Lando excitedly as she shakes his arm.

Finally I had accepted and now they are celebrating like never before, and to be honest, didn't really understand what all the excitement was about.

So now we were walking around the paddock looking for the guy. Suddenly I could see from afar the orange space that corresponded to Mclaren.

—I'm nervous, I don't want to do it anymore.— I stop my pace abruptly and Maia took my arm trying to keep me walking.

—Let's go! I swear to you that he is a good man, you will feel comfortable with him. Also, we will be with you.

I gave in to her body pulling mine to keep me walking. Lando was ahead leading us, opening the door for us. When we entered, there was a "hello" in unison and some smiles towards us.

—Lando, boy, what are you doing here so early?

—Shut up Daniel.— Lando tells his teammate as they fist bump each other.

And that's when I saw him. Not the man who had greeted Lando, but the blonde next to him. Pierre Gasly. I knew him, of course I knew him. Just as I also knew about the womanizing playboy side of him, and now I understand why all those girls immediately fall at his feet. He is gorgeous. And he had beautiful eyes…

—Maia, good morning. Who's with you today?— The Australian accent woke me up from my daydream. I hadn't really stopped looking at him.

—Daniel, this is Aurora, my best friend.

—A pleasure Aurora, I'm Daniel.— The brunette gets up from his seat to walk over to me and kiss me on the cheek.

—Hello, the pleasure is mine.— I tried not to look shy, I swear, but with the Frenchman in the same room with his eyes on me, my security vanished from my body.

—Hello, I'm Pierre. Do you want some coffee?— He told me as he pointed the coffee machine behind him.

—Shame on you, Gasly, this isn't even your place. —Maia bothered him while she took a seat and I still standing since there were no more chairs at that table,

—What else do you want me to do, all of you are very unconcerned. She doesn't even have a chair for her. Come, sit here, I'll go get another one for myself.— Pierre got up and pulled the chair for me to sit down.

I murmured a "thank you" and accepted the seat.

I'm not sure if it was Pierre the man she wanted to introduce me to or it was Daniel, but I seemed to be more interested in the first one. Suddenly I look at Maia and I get it, I see the look she has on her face. That look of "don't even think about it, my friend".

But clearly I ignored her.

It had been 3 weeks since Pierre and I started talking. After the week of that race, he followed me on Instagram, replied to one of my stories, and from that point on we hadn't stopped talking.

The day of the race was the last day we saw each other. Now we happened to be in the same city, so Pierre had the idea to get us together by asking me out on a date.

@pierregasly pick you up at 13:30? I know a cool place we can go for lunch

@aurora_fasey It's fine for me :)

After that, we kept talking about random things until he says that it was too late and we should sleep.

The next day I got up early and I was very anxious. Yes, I already knew him in person and had talked to him, but we were surrounded by people. Now we would be alone, on a date.

These days it had been hot, so I decided to wear a white dress with white sandals too and my little green bag. A natural makeup, I curled my lashes, put on a little blush and lip gloss.

I look at the time on my cell phone, 13:29. So I sit on the couch to watch some TV before Pierre comes for me, trying to calm my nerves. Just a few seconds after I take my seat, my cell phone vibrates.

@pierregasly I think I'm outside your house

I quickly get up and draw the curtains so I can look outside. Sure enough, I see a black Aston Martin DBS parked outside and Pierre sitting inside it.

I wave to him so he can see me and he smiles back. So I grab my bag and stand in front of the mirror to take one last look at myself. Taking a deep breath, I open the front door to leave. That's when I collide with a body, my face against his chest, his arms grabbing my shoulders to pull me away. We both laugh.

—Hey. I'm sorry.— Pierre says with his hands trailing from my shoulders down my arms and then give a little hug.— How are you?

—Hello Pierre. I´m good, what about you? And don't worry, it was my fault.— I give him an awkward smile.

—No, it was my fault darling. Shall we go?— Now he put his hand on my waist guiding me to his car to get in

At first we talked a bit, catching up. But the rest of the ride was silent. Neither of us said a word. But it wasn't embarrassing, it was a comfortable silence.

—You look beautiful, by the way.— His voice made me jump a little.

I said nothing. I didn't know how to react. I just smiled at him and turned my gaze to the landscape that was seen through the window. It didn't take us long to get to the place. Pierre parked his car and mumbled "we're here" to which we both unfastened our seat belts.

—Wait— he said when he saw that I was about to open the door. I watch him walk around the car to the passenger door and open it for me. I get out of the vehicle giving him an awkward but a grateful smile.

We then entered the restaurant, where a waiter guided us to our table and served us immediately.

—Are you okay?— He asks me when we're already eating.

—Yeah, I'm just not used to it.

—What are you talking about? Did you not like the place? We can go anywhere you want, just tell me...

—No, Pierre, the place is perfect. It's just, you know, I'm not used to being told nice things, opening the car door for me, picking me up at my house…my ex-boyfriend never…— I stopped my words abruptly. I looked down in shame.

—Do you want to talk about it?— I look up and bite my lip nervously, not knowing what to say. I didn't want to sound rude and I didn't know if it was the right thing to tell him or to keep quiet. But I definitely didn't want to talk about my ex-boyfriend. Apparently Pierre read my face, or my mind, and quickly changed the subject.

—So…how did you meet Maia?

…

Our third date was in a park. We were sitting in front of a beautiful lagoon and surrounded by grass, trees and flowers. Pierre had prepared a kind of picnic with lots of food and some drinks.

—This park is beautiful, look at the little ducks!— I say to Pierre while I point excitedly at the animals that were in the lagoon.

—Yes, it's beautiful.— I turn my head to look at him only to meet his eyes already on me, leaning on his elbow.

—How about a toast?

—A toast, yes.— I happily raise my glass of champagne.— Toast for the little ducks!

Pierre throw his head back laughing like a little kid. And I think it's strange that he think I'm funny 'cause he never did.

—A toast for the little ducks, then.— He raises his glass as well and clinks it against mine. We both take a sip as we gaze into each other's eyes. I didn't want to take my eyes off him, I felt like the air was going out of me, but it was addictive.

Suddenly my cell phone starts ringing so I reluctantly look away. The contact “Maia<3” appears on the screen of my cell phone. "Uh-oh," I thought. I knew this could lead.

Every time I'd told Maia about some situation that made me happy about Pierre, she and Lando had given me endless talks about why I should stay away. So there came a time when I decided to stop talking to them about him, and when they asked me, I simply denied that I was still talking to the french man.

—Who is it?— Pierre asked, noticing my stunned state.

—It's Maia, she wants to make a video call.

—Fine, you can answer if you want, no problem.

—It's just, she doesn't know I'm with you now...

—That is a problem?

—It´s not…well. I mean, don't get me wrong…It's not a problem for me at all, I love spending time with you. It's just that Maia doesn't like the idea of me spending time with you...

—Uh, I get it…

—I'm sorry, I really don't…

—No, don't worry, I really understand. So you don't want to answer her?

—I want to, but she scares me. And anyway, she hung up the call… Oh, now Lando is calling me.— I look at my phone not knowing whether to answer or not.

—Give me your phone.

I pass it to him immediately as if it burned me to have the device in my hands. He accepts the call and immediately on the other side of the screen is Lando's face in the foreground.

—Aurora, why don't you answ….Pierre? Pierre!— Following that, the phone is seen to make a sudden movement until Maia's face appears.

—I know it, I fuckin know it!

—Hey guys, how are you?

After that, they immediately cut off the call. And later that same day they called me again and gave me another talk. No matter how hard I tried to change their minds, they wouldn't budge.

After spending 8 months with the thought that I could never trust someone again, after believing that love did not exist, he came and made me feel things that I had not felt in my entire life. Was I afraid? Yes, but the feeling of feeling loved outweighed the fear.

…

Because of his work as a driver in Formula 1, Pierre and I couldn't see each other that often, even so we talked to each other every day and made video calls from time to time. We met a couple of times, but the fourth time we saw each other was an important point in the relationship we were forming, plus it had been a long time since we had seen each other.

One weekend of his vacation he came to my city and came to my house as a surprise with a giant bouquet of flowers.

—Pierre…— I didn't know how to react. Having so little person-to-person time, we had not developed any type of physical contact. I didn't know whether to give him a little hug, kiss his cheek or throw myself into his arms. If I'm honest, I've been dying to do the last one.

—What are you doing here?

—Can I pass?

—Sure, sorry, please come in.— I stepped aside so he could enter my house. I received the flowers and quickly put them in a vase. Then I turn around to face him.

—It´s not that your presence bothers me at all, but may I know what you're doing here? How, why… — And seconds later I feel his strong arms wrapping around me. My face against his chest, I smell his perfume. Slowly relaxing, I wrap my arms around his waist. When I do this, Pierre squeezes me even tighter and lifts me off the floor a few inches.

—I missed you… —He said against my head and then left a kiss there.— I just missed you so much, I took advantage of this weekend of my vacation and wanted to come see you.

—I missed you too, Pierre.— I said, still hugging him.— I really appreciate you coming to see me. You would have told me to think of something to take advantage of the weekend… What do you want to do? If you want we can stay here and watch a movie. I have netflix, amazon prime, disneyplus...

—Wouldn't you like to go out?

—Sure, go where.

—It will be a surprise.

—Don't you think that there are many surprises for today?— I finally said separating myself a little from him to be able to raise my head and look him in the eye.

—You deserve all the surprises in the world, mon cherie. Now go get a jacket, it might get cold later.

…

Ever since we got in the car, we hadn't stopped talking. Even though we texted every day, we still had a million topics of conversation.

—Hey, don't you want to put on some music? You can connect your phone to the car.

—I don't think you like my music, if you want I'll connect yours and put some of your playlists…

—You'd be surprised… I'm a fan of many types of music, I don't think I dislike yours.

—I don't know…

—Come on, don't be shy.— He says as he prods my stomach to tickle me. I laugh a little and finally give in.

As we sang, I suddenly stopped hearing his voice and turned my head only to see him already looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He turns his gaze back to the road as he bite his lip smiling.

—What's wrong?

—I just really want to kiss you.—I almost choked, but I try to hide it.

—Sorry.

—It´s okay, I want to kiss you too.— I reach my hand to his knee shyly and squeeze it lightly. Then he puts his hand on top of mine and then takes it and brings it up to his mouth to leave a delicate kiss on it. His beard tickling me, but it didn't bother me at all.

—It's not long until we get there, can you put this on to cover your eyes?— Pierre hands me a bandana. I do what he tells me, nervous. Minutes later I feel how the car begins to slow down until it stops moving completely. —You're not cheating, are you?— Pierre tells me.

—I swear I see absolutely nothing.

—I believed in you. Now wait for me, I'll go open the door and help you down.— Later I hear his door open and close. I inhale and exhale deeply before I hear the door open next to me.— Come here princess.— He takes my hands to help me down, I hear him close the door and lock the car.

—If you let me fall, I'll hit you Gasly.

—I will not do it. Now walk with me.— We both walk at his pace, giving me some instructions like lifting my foot a little or being careful when going down. I start to smell the sea breeze, so before I open my eyes, I already have an idea of where it brought me.

When he removes the bandana from my eyes, it takes me a moment to get used to the light. When I manage to get used to it, I see in front of me a beautiful and calm beach, in the background a wonderful sunset with mixtures of purples and pinks.

I stare at the place and feel Pierre hug me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder.

—The other day you told me that you wanted to see the sunset on a beach, so I thought it was necessary to bring you.— I feel his hoarse voice very close to my ear, which makes me shiver.— I have sushi in the car, but without shrimp because I know you don't like it. And also brought that strawberry juice they sell at walmart that you said…—In a deft move I turn in his arms and take his face in my hands to kiss his lips.

His bewilderment lasts a second, as he immediately follows me in the kiss, putting his hands on my waist.

His lips, oh god his lips. They felt even better than I imagined. With soft and slow touches, full of affection.

My hands settled on his chest and made fists on his white shirt. I felt how he smiled during the kiss when I did that. He raised one of his hands to the back of my neck.

It was the lack of breathing that finally forced us to separate. I slowly opened my eyes to meet the sparkling blue gems of him. He pressed his forehead against mine before placing a small kiss on my nose.

—Aurora, I am so in love with you. I want to take care of you, kiss you and give you all the love you deserve.— He Intertwined his fingers with mine.— I understand that you want to go slow, we can go at the pace you want.

I looked at him not knowing what to say, so I brought my lips back to his. Now my hands tugged a little on his hair making him moan a little.

—I'm in love with you too, Pierre. Now we only have Lando and Maia to accept it.

...

Tags:

@primadonnasdream @midnightricker

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #pg10 #taylor swift series #taylor swift ft f1

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 3 months

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The Dark that sparkles in the light: Ultraman Belial x Afab! Reader

chap 2

Note: (forgive me forgive me for any grammar errors and any missing words I wrote this at almost 12 am and half drunk off of Black Fly. So I was very drowsy!~)

-----------------

"Okay, R/n. You're a big girl you can do this" you say looking at your frazzled reflection which stared back with a skeptical. "who are you kidding?' look as you hid inside your bathroom. It's been a day since you found that weird doll. Belial, as he calls himself at first his presence intrigued you more than it scared you.

You tried ask him questions he'd answer though very reluctantly... You had feeling he liked it better when he thought you were scared of him. You weren't scared just caught off guard! However that soon changed when Belial decided to give your home a remodeling with his mind... Using telekinesis he started tossing things around and chasing you with objects; which how you ended up hiding out in the bathroom for the last (checks your watch) 6hrs... when you noticed it was quiet now, too quiet.

*"Had Belial given up?"* You thought and moved away from the sink and cautiously opened the bathroom door to peeked around for any signs of the 12 inch terror, you swallowed a lump in your throat and slowly opened the door fully and stepped outside to observed the damage around you home, it wasn't too bad actually. All Belial really had really done was move some furniture around and chased you around with a trash can which had spilled all it contents out in the process; leaving a trail of garbage in your hallway.

Speaking of...

When you couldn't see Belial anywhere in the hall you reluctantly made your way to the living room; you froze finding Belial standing near a storage closet staring at his reflection in the long mirror you had hanging on the door. He almost seemed to be in shock? "....Why do I look like this?" (Belial looks like a cross between his early style and his Reiblood form.) he said suddenly causing you to blink. "What?" you say incredulously was...was he not supposed to look like that? You wondered and cautiously stepped out of cover. "Isn't that what you always look like?" Belial's eyes dimmed somberly as he shook his head. "And where is this place?" he asked again you were confused by his questions.

"This is Earth."

"Which Earth?"

"What do you mean which Earth? Is there another Earth I'm not aware of?"

"So, this world hasn't figured out dimensional travel yet? Isn't that Unfortunate."

"Excuse me?" You huffed suddenly feeling insulted as Belial moved away from the mirror. "Who protects this world?" he asks ignoring your agitation. "....I dunno the army, the government?" You say with shrug trying not to lose your temper at the sudden role switch Belial's put into play. "No, I mean against monsters or galactic invaders, you humans always seem to have an organization that deals with them."

You paused thinking for a moment wondering how Belial knew about that? and why he'd want to know about old history?

"There was the SSSP, but they went defunct years ago..." Belial seemed at a loss when you said this. "Defunct, why?" he pressed and all you could do shrug. "There was nothing to fight, ever since they defeated Bemular nothings attacked Earth, so the government shut it down." Belial seemed put off by this. "What about the Ultramen?" You told him there were none since this Earth was clear of monsters not one has ever shown up again.

"My guess is because the peace treaties we have with aliens." You proved a point by turning the TV on the News and the reporters which consisted of a human male and female Alien Fanton they were talking about the recent typhoon that happened a few days ago at least the damage caused by it, but not one word about the strange red lightening phenomenon that brought Belial here.

Weird, maybe you were the only one who saw it? But that didn't seem likely, the news then switch to an outside shot of the street showing more aliens living among humans helping to clean up the debris from the streets and were going about their everyday lives.

Belial didn't know what to feel about this, he was used to seeing humans and aliens going at each others throats, the idea of cohabitation was foreign concept to him, and whats more... He looked down at his hand, what was this pathetic form he was forced into? The last thing he remembered was fighting Geed....Then waking up like this. Then there was you... What was your role in all this, were you the one who did this to him? Belial watched you clean up the trash in the hallway he saw you looking pathetic almost ready to cry trying to wipe something called nail polish off the walls.

*"It's unlikely..."* Belial sighed then tried to grow he focus his energy try picture himself giant, suddenly an energy discharge overtook his body and Belial was hit by a wave of pain. He howled and fell over causing you jump away from the wall and run over to him in a panic! "Hey, Are you okay?" You asked concerned reaching for him only for Belial swipe at your hand. "Don't touch me!" He barked causing you to back off he shuddered as he pulled himself up you were about snap at him and ask what his freaking problem was? until a gurgling noise broke the tension...Belial put his hand on his belly looking very distraught.

"What was that?"

" Uh,....I think it's your stomach."

"But I d-....Why does it make that sound?"

"Cos' You're hungry, when the last time you ate?"

Belial looked at you oddly muttering an "I don't know." You asked if he wanted something to eat again he answered "I don't know." You still hadn't gone grocery shopping since the incident, all you had at the ready was apples, so you cut up a few of those and set them down in from Belial who glared at the plate suspiciously.

You assumed he thought that you poisoned the apples or something so you took one of the slices and ate it just to prove it was safe. After that Belial reluctantly took one of the apple slices, which totally looked like a watermelon wedge in his hands due to his small size.

He took a bite out of it, his eyes brightened up as he quickly ate the entire slice in seconds, You then watched on in awe as Belial proceeded to finish off the entire plate as a red luminescent tongue licked the juice off his hands. "Wash your hands in a sink you animal." You huffed picking him up Belial hissed at you to unhand him as you carried him to the bathroom and made him wash his hands much to his annoyance before hopping off the bathroom counter and going back to the living room to do what you assumed to continue to watch TV .

{pov switch]

While Belial was busy, R/n went clean up all the trash the alien had thrown around during his tantrum, before long it was time for bed but not before R/n went to take a shower; while she was finishing up, the y/ht (your height) woman failed to notice her bathroom door had opened until she pulled the curtain back to see a wide eyed Belial staring up at her. "You're a woman?!" he blurted out stunned before R/n let out an ear piercing scream.

#an update after so loooong!#Spark doll au #tokusatsu #ultraman #ultraman belial #ultraman belial x reader #afab reader #ultraman geed #riku asakura #ambiguously human reader #alien x reader #villain x reader #tokusatsu x reader

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th3sp4rr0w · 8 months

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A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts for Day Three; Sensory Deprivation/Overstimulation/Isolation

Alt. Prompt for Day Three; Separated From Loved Ones

Prompts Used; All

Tw; Emotional Manipulation, Violence, Injury, Autistic Meltdowns, Meltdown-Based Self Harm/Self Induced Injury, Internalized Ableism

Disclaimer; I have autism. The meltdown Danny has closely resembles a bad one for me. Autism looks different to different people, and I don't want to say that my experience is the only valid one bc obviously that's not true. People experience it in all different ways. Please don't make fun of his meltdown or make fun of anyone that may share their experiences in the comments. Just be nice to me and to others okay thank you <33

Link is to the A03 story for those seeing this for the first time and wanting to check it out and the chapter is under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking with Sheila over the next week was like a dream that had come true.

Like Jason had predicted, it hadn’t healed the wounds his mom’s passing had left. He hadn’t expected it would and wasn’t disappointed it didn’t, in the same way that he hadn’t expected being adopted by Bruce to heal the hurt Willis Todd had left somewhere inside him through the years. Though neither could heal the wounds the people that raised him had left, they both soothed it in ways he couldn’t seem to understand.

He hadn’t called Sheila ‘mom’. He felt like that title would always belong to the woman who sang to him when he was small and gave him his love for reading. One day, though, he could see himself giving Sheila a different title of affection. Maybe ‘mama’, he hadn’t really decided yet, but the thought was similar enough to the couple times he had slipped and called Bruce ‘papa’.

He still didn’t know how to process it when she told him she loved him a day into messaging back and forth. It was somewhere between elated and nauseous. He could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had told him he loved him in the last year, yet here Sheila was, giving it out like it was candy. He felt something weird curl in his stomach, but ignored it, assuming that it was a good weird, or something he’d picked up living with Bruce. Living with that nut case could make anyone extra paranoid. He still didn’t say he loved her, and how could he? He still hadn’t said those words to Bruce.

Through their messages late at night (For him, he reminded himself- Ethiopia was seven hours ahead of them, and she often times could only message early in the morning or midafternoon her time), he found out she had left both of “her” boys with Willis, and was extremely concerned to hear that her little Daniel wasn’t with him... which was weird, because the file Bruce had clearly stated that she had taken his twin? He chalked it up to a miscommunication error Bruce didn’t have communication errors .

He’d also learned about the crime that had caused her to flee to a different country. Apparently, the girl's parents had begged her to do some operation on her that they couldn’t afford. She would’ve died without it and was too far gone to save. It, admittedly, contradicted the information he had found in the bat-cave, but Bruce had dropped the case for a reason, right?

Batman would never make that big of a mistake on a case like that.

She wrote out stories of her life for him to pour over, from her current life at the horn to when she and da- Willis. To when she and Willis had met and fell in love. She said that she had hoped that, when they were old enough, her boys (and wasn’t that something, being one of her boys) would contact her exactly like Jason had. It had started looking grim, whether his twin was still out there in the world or not. He didn’t dare voice that to Sheila just yet, hoping for her sake that he was okay. She seemed like she was so worried about them over the years, especially now that she knows they were separated.

She asked him about himself, how he had gone into Bruce’s custody, how he liked living with Bruce, how his adopted brother was, how school was going. It was everything he had imagined her doing.

She was also wicked smart. You had to be to go into medicine, but especially since she had been living in Ethiopia, where hardly any English was spoken. Her area mostly spoke Amharic, she said, but living in the capital of the country she saw all sorts of people that spoke all sorts of languages. He started learning so he could visit her one day, even if the alphabet of the language did intimidate him just a little bit.

She had so much to say to him, it made his head go a bit fuzzy. Getting to know her, telling her things about his life, getting a nickname from her (ሰማያዊ ጄይ ወፍ -she refused to tell him what it meant, stating it would give him a little extra motivation to learn). There was really only a couple of things that Jason hadn’t... loved about the whole thing.

First; Bruce had tracked the Joker to around her area in Ethiopia. It was still unclear how exactly he’d gotten out of the country, but he had. The clown was way too close to her for his comfort, and there was no way to warn her without telling her everything.

The second thing was that, after Bruce had found an excuse to visit Ethiopia “for a meeting” so they could stay for a while without too much fear of the media finding out and causing a ruckus, Jason had wanted to tell him so they could go see her. Dick was going to space for a Titan’s mission, so if he just told him about it when he got back, then he would probably be too excited on Jason’s behalf to get mad at Bruce that much, right? Except, when Jason went to tell Sheila the good news, she had all but begged him not to tell Bruce about her yet.

He hadn’t known what to make of that.

Her reasoning had been that she was worried Bruce would take it as a threat. Big ol’ goofball Brucie Wayne would take one look at her and assume she was attempting to steal away the precious boy he had loved and cared about for over a year. Except, when he tried to tell her there was absolutely no way he’d ever think like that, would be overjoyed even on Jason’s behalf, she had outright dismissed him. When he pushed it, she got annoyed and more defensive.

He guessed he could understand where she was coming from. He’d probably be a little nervous in her position, too, but she was so vehemently against Bruce even knowing he knew about her...

He didn’t know what to do.

He sat through his classes, distracted and dazed. What if he couldn’t introduce them before Bruce found out Jason had gone behind his back? Then Dick would be mad at both of them for keeping something important from him, even if it was none of his business. He didn’t even know how Alfred would react. He was pretty sure the man would probably be on his side...? Then again, he had been pretty sure Sheila would want to meet his family.

He felt a harsh poke to his shoulder. He looked over at the tiny boy next to him.

He raised his eyebrows, looked over to the teacher then back at the older boy in silent conversation. He had a way of doing that; making you feel scolded without ever opening his mouth. Most days Jason isn’t sure if the boy is on par with or better at it than Alfred . It was inspiring and terrifying all at once. Jason didn’t know if he wanted to learn how to do it or if he never wanted the other boy to do that again.

He shrugged, eyes flickering to the abandoned sheet on his desk before settling back on the boy next to him.

He rolled his eyes, looking back up to the board as the teacher droned on.

Jason returned to his thoughts. He wondered briefly if he could get away with going on his phone, but decided against it. Even if the teacher didn’t notice, the little stalker next to him would. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t snitch, but he would ask uncomfortable questions. It was hard to deny the boy anything, his big owl eyes boring into his soul and making him want to cater to the kid’s every need.

He wasn’t fully sure that the baby bird wasn’t a meta.

The moment the bell rang, the boy had grabbed Jason’s wrist to prevent him from hiding out in a bathroom to see if Sheila had emailed him yet. When Jason attempted to protest, he glared at him. Jason followed obediently after him.

He allowed the boy to take them to their regular empty classroom in the back of the library. They’re pretty sure everyone forgot about it since they changed librarians again, since they never see any sign anyone else ever uses it. He started pulling food from his lunchbox as the other boy started talking.

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Jason,” he started. “You’ve been acting so weird, and you’re avoiding me-”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Jason protested immediately. “If I was avoiding you, I’d be doing a damn better job at it,” he muttered.

The other boy looked about as intimidating as a baby chihuahua as he glared at him. “You may not realize it yet, but you absolutely are. You always get like this when you have something on your mind that you haven’t figured out how to say, so say it. What happened? Did you get in another fight with Dick?” his voice was gentler than it had been previously by the end of it.

Jason sighed. “No, baby bird, it’s just... I found something out last week. Something Bruce definitely knew about. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“So spill. We can workshop it together, okay? We can figure this out, Jace.”

And he did. Jason spilled everything, from finding out Catherine wasn’t his bio mom, to contacting Sheila, to Ethiopia (though, he kept Joker out of it; as far as the baby bird knew, Bruce had a business trip and decided to give Alfred a break for the weekend).

The kid had looked at him afterwards. “So, Sheila-” he looked at Jason questioning, and when he gave a nod he went on, “-Sheila is the one who gave birth to you, and wants to meet you on your dad’s-”

“Bruce isn’t my dad,” Jason denied.

“Fine, Mr. Wayne’s-”

“Call him Bruce!”

“ Mr. Wayne’s ,” he emphasized, ignoring Jason’s groans, “Business trip, but she doesn’t want you to tell Mr. Wayne you know or that you’re going to meet her?”

“Pretty much,” Jason replied miserably.

“Well, you know what you have to do, right?”

“What’s that?”

“You listen to her,” he said seriously, beginning to take some of the celery sticks and peanut butter Alfred had packed them.

Jason looked at him a minute. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s an adult,” he started, crunching on his celery, “She must have a reason she doesn’t want him to know. Just trust her, okay? It’ll all work out.”

Jason shrugged, finally grabbing a sandwich and chewing on it thoughtfully, “Yeah, probably. I just...”

He trailed off. The child looked at him expectantly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Alfie knows something’s up, I think, and it’s tearing me up to keep quiet about it.”

He heard a hum. “Yeah, but this isn’t just about you. It’s Sheila’s life, too, and she’s the adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

Jason sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, birdie.”

The other boy beamed at him, “You’re welcome, Jayjay.”

Jason smiled back at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe anything that little menace tried to convince him of as long as he had that faux innocent grin.

Hell, he did know better, and some part of him still believed the little shit.

The baby bird had made a good point. Sheila did already have a reason to keep this from Bruce, and there was probably one she couldn’t tell him. He’d hadn’t told her he was Robin; they’d only been chatting for a week. On the other hand...

He felt guilty for not telling his family. He could tell Alfred was worried sick, and Bruce had started catching on. Dick was too busy to notice anything yet, but it was only a matter of time that he’d be home and Jason would have to start lying to him , too...

He tried to throw himself in his schoolwork the rest of the day, worrying at his lip all the while. When Alfred picked him up at the end of the day, he didn’t know what to say. Finding her had been a dream come true, but sometimes, it felt like he was dirty. Like he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t be during patrol and Batman was right behind him, watching him screw up and boring his disappointed gaze at him all the while.

He went to his room, barely saying ‘hi’ to Bruce in his study. He did his homework, texted the boy next door about notes he missed being zoned out through the day, helped him with his questions, took his hour-long pre-patrol nap, and got ready.

When he was Robin, his problems were supposed to go away. They did, for the most part. As Robin, he was invincible, he could hop from roof top to roof top without a care in the world and just... let loose. Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to exist in the suit. He was Robin. But not tonight.

No, tonight seemed worse, somehow. No matter how hard he tried, or how focused he pretended to be, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and the gnawing feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong-

Maybe that’s why, when Batman and Robin ambushed that trafficking ring they’d found in its early stages, he was distracted. It was such a blur; one second, he was fighting bad guys and kicking butt like Robin does, and the next he was blindly clawing at his own face, actively trying to get his mask off.

This had probably happened too many times to count, especially in the early days. When you’re a vigilante, sometimes, people do messed up things to you, like pour strange chemicals on your body. The league (and Batman... mostly Batman-) designed suits specifically for when bad guys poured strange chemicals on it, to keep them from hurting you too bad so you can keep fighting. When that skin is exposed, say, on your face, that’s a different story.

They hadn’t wanted anything too abrasive on the face, since that would rub the sensitive skin raw and make mask-shaped red rings against it, and that’s bad for the secret identity. If Bruce Wayne had Batman-cowl shaped red marks on his face every day, eventually someone would put two and two together and make four. Before he and the team developed the right combo, he apparently got really good at make-up, but then the bat had gotten a certain little bird. 9 yr old Dick Grayson hated the way it felt, but he couldn’t go to school every day with marks on his chubby baby cheeks.

So, Batman spent months perfecting the best mix of protective and comfortable. He had designed the mask so, while not as soak-proof as the rest of the outfit, you had some time to get it off should anything happen. In addition, the lenses suctioned to the skin, gently enough not to create lasting marks but well enough that nothing should enter and get into the wearer’s eyes in most situations.

The lenses were enforced, but not unbreakable. They absorbed as much of the impact as possible without completely shattering, but they would crack so they wouldn’t break your eye socket when you got hit in the face. So, if someone were to, say, punch you real hard near both of your eyes while wearing brass knuckles, then pour chemicals on your face, you’d be in some deep trouble.

The stars had aligned tonight for the worst possible scenario to become reality.

Jason was screaming, he thought. He clawed at the mask, trying his hardest to get it off with his gloves on as the noise of the fight surrounded him. He wasn’t sure what happened, but when he felt strong arms try to grab him, he fought with all he had left.

A voice flickered in and out of his adrenaline-fueled stupor, “Ro-… Okay, you... ‘in, Shhh, Robin, it’s me.”

He finally realized it was just Batman and relaxed. He thought he was crying, it was hard to tell anymore.

“Papa- papa, I can’t see,” he cried out as he started sobbing. He felt the strong arms around him start to pick him up.

“Relax, I got you,” he murmured, then- “Agent A, I need you to prepare the med bay with saline and sterile syringes, prepped for flushing. We have a Robin with a clipped wing.” Papa adjusted his hold, starting to run towards where Jason was pretty sure they parked the bat-mobile.

“Oh, dear,” he heard the butler reply in the comm. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll fill you in at the Batcave.”

He couldn’t hear Alfred’s reply over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt papa adjust him to open his door, leaning in the back seat to set him down and gently peel off his mask, rubbing under his right eye for a moment before buckling him in and closing the door. Moments later, he heard the door in front of him open and shut quickly, feeling it roar to life and tear down the road.

Papa produced a bottle of water and talked him through opening it to pour onto his face. They were still going to flush when they got to the cave, he claimed, but getting as much of it off as early as possible was important. Jason did as he was told, tilting his head back and not bothering to close his eyes as he let the water pour down his burning cheeks. It felt cool against his skin, mixing with the sweat and grime.

It was humiliating. He felt like he was in his early days again, messing up at every corner and leaving pap-, Batman, to clean up the mess.

“What happened out there, Robin?” he heard the gruff voice ask from the front seat.

“He- he had brass knuckles,” he gasped. “Hit me in the face a couple times and broke both my lenses,” if he knew the bat, he probably looked up at that, searching for any sign of bruising, “Then, someone poured the chemicals. Don’t know what they were, they had them stored in an unmarked glass bottle. Brown.”

“Hn.”

Jason cringed. It had felt right in the moment, but any time either he or Dick had called out for some version of “dad” in battle, it brought out the worst version of Batman. Overprotective, obsessive, and violent (always towards others, never towards them. Never them, even if sometimes they might deserve it). This version of Batman, who barely wants to let them go live their lives in fear of having them out of his sight. Jason wasn’t going to be patrolling by himself for the rest of the week, if he was allowed to patrol at all.

His eyes stung. The vision was slowly starting to come back, but it was blurry. He could see some blocks of color; the dash looked like a solid black thing with specs of blue. If he tried to squint, he could barely make out the little ears on Bruce’s cowl for a couple seconds before he the pain was too much and he had to close his eyes again.

The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered Bruce holding his head gently in his lap as Alfred flushed out his eyes, examining them carefully. Bruce used his mask to find what chemicals were used and, thankfully, they weren’t too potent. They had flushed his eyes in time, and tonight shouldn’t have any lasting effects.

Sometimes, after a harrowing patrol, either of his little birds could show up in their pajamas by the elevator and wait. Somehow, Bruce always knew. He’d be there within 5 minutes, freshly showered and dressed comfortably with his pink robe, and take them into his room. He’d hold them protectively until they fell asleep. They’d often wake up, still in his embrace in the morning.

Jason had only participated in this ritual with Dick, could count on one hand the amount of times he had. But tonight was just...

Well. It was a lot.

So, after a shower with still-blurry vision and fumbling his way through getting dressed, he went to stand by the elevators to wait for his... for Bruce.

Instead, he found Bruce standing there waiting, hair already damp in his usual bedtime attire. His pink robe was tied loosely around his waist. He was wearing sweats with a Gray Ghost t-shirt. He held out his arms for Jason to slot into.

Maybe he was too old for this, but that didn’t matter. Right now, sitting in Bruce’s arms as he carried him into the one room in the house he felt he could sleep in comfortably tonight, he couldn’t care less about it.

As Bruce laid him down to hold him gently, rubbing his thumb pad over his brow and smoothing down his hair, he felt safe. That’s all that mattered.

As long as he was with his papa, he was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny cringed as he heard another bang from the basement. His parents had decided to stay home to prep for an upcoming convention and he was going nuts .

He had done all the work Jazz brought home. He’d burned through the majority of her book collection.

Tucker and Sam had worked together to customize a phone that he could actually use- he normally fried any electronic device he came into contact with for more than a couple weeks. The phone was one of those new, annoying ones that had no headphone jack. It was also a new-enough development that they hadn’t finished customizing a pair of Bluetooth headphones for it. He had lost the headphone adapter nearly immediately after getting it.

He flinched again as he heard the clang and screech of metal on metal. If he had to listen to this much longer, he was going to start screaming.

Arguably the worst part of the whole week was the fact that the wound he’d gotten hadn’t healed, like, at all . Ghosts kept coming, they kept fighting him, and they kept aggravating the wound with their own ectoblasts and throwing him into the ground. Not to mention when Maddie herself reopened it throwing a whole harpoon at him . Thankfully it hadn’t gone through, just scraped the absolute heck out of his side, but still! Ow!

His side burned. Sounds were starting to bug him more. His parents put more ectoplasm in the fridge and hadn’t replaced anything that went sentient yet and his stomach ached with hunger. He hadn’t seen Tucker and Sam in forever and he actually wanted to go to school just to get away from this hell house -

His head flew backwards and hit the wall. The sound reverberated in his ears, taking over the sounds of downstairs for a few seconds. He did it again, and again, and-

He was crying. Breathing was weird and it felt vaguely like death. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

His hands rolled into fists and he used his wrists to beat his temples. The pain was grounding, in a way. He could feel hot tears stream down his face and it made him all the more desperate to just make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop -

The way his shirt was twisted around him was wrong, the sheets were the wrong texture, he could still taste the terrible mint of his toothpaste, the sounds from the basement kept getting louder. Every nerve in his body was on fire and his head ached. He could feel bruises forming on his wrists and temples. It wasn’t enough.

He grabbed a pillow and screamed . He hadn’t slept more than 10 hours in almost two weeks, he was seeing spiders, he hadn’t had any zesti in days and everything was too much. He took a shuddering breath and screamed again, brain focused on the screeching metal.

CLANG! CLANG! SCREEEEE-

His voice raised in pitch to screech with it. He vaguely felt something shaking. His hands came up to tug on his hair. His shirt stuck to his neckline as tears soaked the hem. His throat burned and it was almost a mercy as the migraine he’d created for himself throbbed.

The metal clanging finally stopped. The screams that had turned into hoarse little sounds calmed in favor of sobs.

Over the next few minutes, the tears slowed. He carefully pried his hands away from his hair and attempted to soothe himself. He almost wished Jazz was here, but was eternally grateful she hadn’t witnessed his, uh, lapse in judgment.

He... he should’ve just left, or found an old device or another they had floating around. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He threw a fit like a toddler and for what? Because of a few noises? How old was he again?

He tore his shirt off before another round could start over the fabric. He shuffled over to his drawers, pulling out a soft hoodie and his favorite bottoms. He changed quickly.

When he was little and these things happened, he went to his parents. They once soothed his aching wrists and checked his head. They would workshop whatever had pushed him this far, making sure he had the tools he needed to prevent it next time. Jazz helped a lot in that regard. But now, they cared more about their career.

Jazz was at school still. She would help him through these, now, but she wouldn’t always be there for him. He grabbed the fluffy pillow she had given him, pressing his face to it.

He wanted his mom. He wanted her to rub his back the way only she knew how. He wanted the smell of his dad’s fudge as he did what he could to soothe his son. He never knew what to say, and his hands felt like fire, but he’d always offer fudge and that was enough. He knew his dad was trying to comfort him the best way he knew how and it was enough .

Jazz would’ve had the space documentary on right now. Tucker and Sam, who always somehow knew exactly what was wrong without asking, would’ve been there with noise cancelling headphones and soft things and would know if it was a time for hugs or hand holding or staying six feet away from him. They knew him. They were perfect .

He missed them. He was so alone and he still had another week of this. The tears had his face sticky and he was dehydrated so all he was doing right now was that stupid dry sobbing that made him feel like he was faking the whole thing. He started gagging at some point.

He could feel his teeth and every one of their sockets being stretched grotesquely to fit them. He could feel as his mouth filled with saliva and could hear it swish around every time he moved his tongue. Every little thing someone could tune out normally felt like it was setting him on fire; his breathing in his ears, the mucus in his nose, the inseam of his sock, every little stitch of his clothing, every eyelash scraping against his eye.

He hadn’t eaten in a few days he could feel his stomach cramp around nothing . Jazz had an important test to study for so he wasn’t going to bug her about food. His parents had eaten out since the ectoplasm incident, so they didn’t feel the need to get more food. They hadn’t gotten anything for Danny since they “didn’t want to reward him for bad behavior while he was suspended”. He was so sick of being suspended.

His body convulsed as he calmed down. He felt a cold build in his lungs.

He cursed his luck. The frost blew out of his mouth, sticking to his cheeks. He was going to start screaming again.

He transformed, shakily starting to fly. He went intangible and went through the wall, trying not to let the way it felt against his body make him go back into a full meltdown. His ghost form was slightly more tolerable, but he could still feel every molecule of being buzz with ectoplasm and it consumed him whole.

He flew around for a bit before finally finding the thing that had set off his senses.

Skulker. Jazz had finally convinced him to release the bastard and he was already back. Danny felt his anger levels rise and he was briefly tempted to throw himself at the bricks without going intangible. Instead, he charged.

He rammed into Skulker full forced as he cackled. They tumbled through the air until they landed on a roof.

“WHELP!” he cried as Danny started laying into him. “WHAT- HEY! TIME OUT!”

He grasped the boy by the shoulders and threw him. Danny felt his previous wounds get jostled and his head hit the corner of the building. Even though most of the damage by now was gone because of his ghostly healing, it still hurt. He hissed in pain.

“What ever happened to the wit! Honestly, whelp, at least put some effort in, it won’t be satisfying to hang your pelt-”

Danny threw an ecto-blast at him. Skulker narrowly avoided it, his facial expression between impressed and annoyed.

“You pest! I never thought you’d have it in you-” he grinned, going to attack Danny back. “It’ll be a pleasure to skin you slowly!”

Danny growled, dodging Skulker and attacking with his ecto-blasts. “DO IT!” he yelled.

Skulker stuttered for one second, allowing Danny to get him pinned down to the roof.

The ghost pulled the glowing blade out of his suit, swinging at where he knew the half-boy should be sitting. “I’ll do it!” he threatened, swinging around.

“DO IT!” he yelled again, shaking the ground around him. “SKIN ME! DO IT!”

Skulker paused. He... was beginning to feel this was bigger than he first considered it would be. He almost felt like he needed to leave but pressed on.

“I’m not playing around, half-breed!” he roared. He swiped at the boy, clipping his cheek. He only grinned at him, his fists starting to glow green. He started towards him, shouting again.

“Good! If you don’t skin me, I might just do it myself !”

The shaking of the building grew stronger. His voice carried itself in green rings, reverberating around the buildings and shaking the earth. Skulker could feel his armor start to shake like it did whenever Ember did this around him. The child’s words hit him afterwards in the shock of it all.

Yeah, he probably should’ve tried retreating earlier.

And besides, just how many powers did this kid have again? He felt like halfas got it all at this point, it was ridiculous.

Instead of gaining common sense, he picked himself up and launched himself at the boy. Said boy punched him with green fists, screaming- no, wailing at the top of his lungs. Could he even control this?!

The metal suit came apart with clangs and screeches of metal. The boy whined loudly, his wail once again shaking the buildings around them.

Skulker was stuck in the helmet as he listened to the boy whimper for a few minutes before he composed himself. He felt the boy pick his helmet up and shake it vigorously as he flew.

The boy said nothing as he turned intangible and went through a wall. The small ghost in the helmet sat there in silence as he listened to the boy crying. He heard the tell-tale sign of him going back to his human form.

He had been pointed at the ceiling, so all he saw was snippets of things being thrown over top of him. He didn’t dare speak, but it was weird that the little whelp had been silent this long.

Normally it was making noise and being annoying. Snarky comments and witty anecdotes, but today... nothing.

He heard noises from other parts of the house. He thought he could make out the sound of those ghost hunters voices, but that was weird. If this was the little ghost’s haunt, why would ghost hunters...?

Realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. The little half-breed was still human. It still had parents. Its parents were the hunters that they had learned to avoid within the last year or so of having the portal in the basement.

Ohhh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. He remembered every time he had been captured and had a new appreciation for the little whelp never turning them over to its parents. He... also realized just how dangerous this all was for it.

He listened to the boy as he pulled things from places, ripping noises and grunts of pain.

Skulker found himself wondering just how the half-breed worked. If he got injured. If he knew this was just playing around for them.

He heard the boy start whimpering again, starting to jump around desperately. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it did it with an almost manic edge to it. The distress of the creature was palpable in the room.

The thing eventually collapsed onto its bed. He could hear its panting from where he lay on the floor.

He wasn’t sure how long they staid like that before the thing's sister entered the room. He heard her voice attempting to soothe as smells filled the space they resided in. He could hear agitation in the thing’s voice as it responded.

The, what was it called again? ‘Fenton Thermos’ didn’t provide anything except darkness and silence. That was arguably the worst part of it, not being granted the passage of time, or companionship while being stuck, unless there were multiple ghosts there at once. But this? He wasn’t sure this was better. This somehow felt more wrong than trying to skin the whelp alive, for ancients’ sakes.

He couldn’t even do anything to help. Or to hurt, whichever came first. Being stuck in his helmet gave him the perspective he never had, and stripped him of being able to use it at all. This was probably the worst he had felt after getting a beatdown from the half-breed.

He heard shouting next. Between the thing and its sister. Something about never giving it space and how it never came to her with its problems. It felt too... ‘absolutely not his business’ for his taste.

Eventually, he heard more screaming. He felt the room shake and he almost said something, then decided against it.

When it stopped, he felt his helmet get snatched up and thrown up against the wall. He didn’t make a sound as the thing raged.

All at once, he felt the whelp race down the stairs. Watched through the lenses of his helmet as he went through the portal and started flying. He saw glimpses of territories in the Zone as they flew by.

He saw through the lenses, but mostly felt it when they reached his territory in the Zone. It was something every ghost felt when they entered their haunt. He also mostly felt it when the little whelp threw his helmet into his haunt . It could be so rude sometimes!

No matter. He had already made up his mind.

He started rolling the helmet towards the center of his haunt. He needed to rebuild first, but this was too big of a thing to keep to himself.

He needed to tell someone of the boy’s situation.

After dropping off Skulker (emphasis on drop ), Danny was... hesitant to go home. He could normally spend days in the Zone and never face an issue. He wanted to stay in the Zone, until his skin felt like his and his mind stopped buzzing.

But fighting with Jazz wasn’t an excuse. That was mostly his dumb fault. If he wasn’t such an oversensitive crybaby, he wouldn’t have snapped at her. She was just trying to be nice, and he blew it.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. The only reason he could even go into the Zone was because she had told their parents of the rumor that Skulker’s suit had been found (the same suit that Tucker and Sam had already cleaned up following reports of a freak ‘earthquake’). His parents were driving him nuts and he was starting to fear he’d never be okay again.

He could blame the accident for a lot. It took away his chances of ever becoming an astronaut. It took away his security in the world. It took away his ability to feel invincible in the way that kids do. But this wasn’t the accident’s fault.

He was born broken. He was born with his skin too tight, too-large teeth, and something bubbling in his throat, begging to get out. He was born wrong.

There was... there was just no fixing that. He was going to be broken forever.

He would always have to live with the fact that everything that was wrong with him was purely something he did. Jazz could say whatever she wanted about it.

Daniel Fenton, even before the accident, was broken. Not even Jazz could fix that.

He could never fix himself.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc robin #robin #batman #ai-less whumptober day three #Kite Flies Over The Nightingale Nest

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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bi-bard · 2 years

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Rambling - Adam Raki Imagine [Adam (2009)]

Title: Rambling

Pairing: Adam Raki X Reader

Word Count: 476 words

Warning(s): mentions of people being dicks (to the reader)

Summary: A budding relationship between (Y/n) and Adam leads to new discoveries and rambling conversations.

Author's Note: Hey, look, Kyli wrote another self-comfort fic.

---------------------------

It was early in Adam and I's relationship.

We were in what I've affectionately called the learning phase.

We hadn't adjusted to every small habit of the other person. We were finding out each other's favorites. Our pasts were slowly getting revealed. Good and bad date ideas were being sorted, pet names getting tested, affection getting figured out. Trial and error.

It was the first time that I had gone over to Adam's place for more than a few moments.

We were on the couch, just talking about anything that was coming to mind.

It was nice. It felt natural. I had never fallen so perfectly into a continuous conversation with someone. Adam just made me feel safe there.

I had gotten stuck on this rambling about an idea I had gotten for a book. I was already constructing characters and settings and plot points. No one else around me had shown any interest when I told them, but Adam seemed open to listening, so I just kept talking.

More and more details started tumbling out of my mouth. I was surprised that I wasn't stumbling over my words. I was so excited about every part of it that I had to fight to keep myself from talking too fast.

I don't know what really made me pause.

Maybe it was the look on Adam's face. Maybe it was the clock on the end table reminding me how much time had passed. Maybe it was my own brain playing tricks on me. Maybe it was all of the above.

No matter the cause, I found my rambling slowing down.

"Sorry," I muttered after a while. "I... I don't get to talk about this stuff much and I know I get a bit carried away. I didn't mean to bore you-"

"You aren't boring me."

I paused for a moment. "I'm not?"

Adam shook his head.

"Oh," I looked down at my lap, fiddling with my fingers for a moment. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Most people usually would cut me off by now," I shrugged. Honestly, I was scared that if I didn't shrug it off, I was going to start sobbing. "By ignoring me or interrupting me or insulting me... I don't know... they usually find something."

"That's rude of them," he replied.

I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

I shifted a bit so my head could rest on his shoulder. I tensed slightly, waiting for some indication that I needed to move. There weren't any though. He just seemed to relax a bit. That caused me to relax against him.

"I wanna hear more about it," Adam said after a few moments of silence.

"Really," I asked.

"Yeah."

I grinned to myself. "Okay."

Being listened to like this was going to take some getting used to. But it was an adjustment I was happy to make.

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#adam raki fanfiction #adam raki x reader #adam raki imagine #adam 2009 x reader #adam 2009 fanfiction #adam 2009 imagine #hugh dancy fanfiction #hugh dancy x reader #hugh dancy imagine #imagine #x reader #fanfiction

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anotherkindofmindpod · 2 years

Note

In the linked episode, there is a moment where you say the possibility that Brian sexually assaulted John could shed light on why Paul is so cagey and defensive of John on this subject and why Paul was cold toward Brian. You say to take the anger we as listeners feel hearing that story and imagine that we are Paul, someone who knows and loves John, and come to the conclusion that Paul would be upset at Brian on John’s behalf for this. However, Paul’s views on a situation like that in 1963 would not be remotely the same as ours is in the 2020s. It feels as though you are applying modern thought to Paul in error here; as you explain earlier in that segment, the concept of date rape did not exist for anyone back then, including Paul, so assuming he heard the full story, which he maintains he never did, it doesn’t make sense to me why Paul would feel the same sort of protective anger that a listener now would feel. Especially since I am pretty confident in saying that John would never have described it to Paul in terms of feeling violated or taken advantage of. It feels like you bounce lightly over a lot of dubious "ifs" to come to this possibility. IF this thirdhand information is accurate, IF John for some reason confided in Paul, IF Paul conformed to 2020 standards when thinking about power structures between manager/bandmember and sexual assault—THEN it might help explain why Paul was cold to Brian. I know you point out that Gaines’s story is hearsay and thirdhand information and that cancelling Brian based on hearsay would be wild, and you’re right. But if I’m honest, I do not think enough time was spent considering quite how unreliable Steve Gaines’ story is. There’s a willingness to entertain this story's possibilities and consequences that is not sufficiently balanced by source analysis, in my opinion. Not only is it third-hand information, it’s third-hand information recalled nearly forty years later, on top of being twenty years removed from the original conversation. Even if we assume Gaines has contemporaneous recordings of this interview with Brown, it’s still two decades after the fact: a conversation that happened in the early sixties recalled in the early eighties. And if he did talk to Brown about this for hours and that is the story Brown told him, why print a version in the book they co-wrote which depicts John as completely awake, aware, and giving full consent? It diminishes his credibility even further. I really do appreciate your podcast for lifting up sources that have been ignored, marginalized, forgotten, or are harder to find. I love the legwork you do and I look forward to future episodes. I think the way this source was talked about was a bit of a misstep, though.

Hey Listener,

Thank you for the kind words! We are glad you enjoy the podcast. :)

Sounds like you don’t believe Gaines’ story, which is your prerogative. If you feel the caveats we stated weren’t sufficient, that is also your prerogative.

However, Paul’s views on a situation like that in 1963 would not be remotely the same as ours is in the 2020s. It feels as though you are applying modern thought to Paul in error here

#1. 1963 Paul does not require knowledge of “date rape” as a legal concept to detect or intuit discomfort, embarrassment or shame on John’s part, all of which John seemed to show contemporaneously based on his testimony to Pete Shotton and his extreme behavior at Paul’s party (as we detailed in our episode).

#2. It’s entirely possible Paul heard the “passed out and took advantage” story at the time, especially since Gaines explicitly claimed “everyone in the Beatles circle” knew and believed it (which would by definition include Paul).

Again, Paul doesn’t have to believe sex with an unconscious or semi-conscious person meets the legal definition of assault in 1963 (which it didn’t) to feel anger or compassion when it happens to his own personal, very special friend. Paul is and was uncommonly protective of John and highly aware of John’s innate fragility. Paul doesn’t need to have any sort of enlightened compassion for ALL victims in order to feel angry specifically on behalf of his friend.

We made the argument that if this was the situation John wouldn’t consider himself a “victim” for a variety of antiquated, fucked-up reasons but he could and likely would still be traumatized by the incident.

Anyway, here’s what I said:

But again, if this is indeed true, it could shed light on many elements to this story, including John's violent reaction and why his attitude about it seemed to fluctuate.

And it could also help explain why Paul McCartney is so cagey and defensive about this sexual incident on John's behalf. And why Paul isn't particularly warm toward Brian, right?

But just for like five seconds, assuming that Paul loves John; Let's assume that he loves his best friend, okay? (which I think we all do). Whatever you just felt, imagining john in a situation where he's being taken advantage of… whatever anger or sadness that that made you feel, imagine you're his best fucking friend. Wouldn't Paul be upset about it too?

I stand firmly by my belief that if Paul even suspected that the Beatles’ new manager pressured or coerced a diminished John into sex and/or that John felt conflicted or ashamed about it afterwards, it would contribute to Paul not feeling “particularly warm” towards that person. TBH, I’m kind of perplexed that this is a controversial opinion?

All that said, even if Paul had no reason to suspect John was anything but happy about the Barcelona trip on a personal level, it still demonstrably had bad consequences for John (and by extension, the WHOLE BAND). Not that Brian is at fault for John’s violence (as we stated numerous times in the episode), but to us it seems unlikely that Paul wouldn’t have, at the very least, experienced a feeling of “gee, thanks a lot for THAT, Brian” as a result. We’re not saying this makes him a selfless hero or John’s knight in shining armor, but it does give nuance to the friction between Paul and Brian – friction which is, frustratingly, usually attributed to only the most simplistic and petty of reasons (Paul is jealous, “difficult,” homophobic, etc.) when in fact, the Barcelona trip was a GIANT MISSTEP on Brian’s part professionally, interpersonally, and commercially. If afterward, Paul needed Brian to PROVE himself a bit? That is FAIR.

And if he did talk to Brown about this for hours and that is the story Brown told him, why print a version in the book they co-wrote which depicts John as completely awake, aware, and giving full consent?

Because it is kinder, sexier, paints Brian in a MUCH better light and portrays John as an ‘experimental bohemian’ rather than a victim? Because it preserves stereotypes about both John Lennon (the powerful leader) and men in general (i.e. John was the “macho” one so he always had control)?

In our opinion, John’s violent behavior at Paul’s birthday party went beyond typical “gay panic” and, crucially, beyond John’s own typical violent-outburst MO. Although by all accounts John was drunk, he never blacked out (either from intoxication or rage) because he also claims to clearly recall thinking “I could kill this guy.” Although this event is typically portrayed (by straight men) as a straight man protecting his reputation, John was actually jeopardizing not only his career but his entire future by “almost killing” Wooler. In addition to being an aggressively homophobic act towards a gay man, it comes across as inherently self-destructive as well. It speaks to a depth of inner turmoil that, in our opinion, doesn’t quite jibe with a neatly planned, unambiguously-positive sexual experience. Given this new tidbit of information from Gaines, John’s intensely emotional overreaction suggests he may have been triggered and rather than merely “proving his manhood” he might have been suffering from trauma he couldn’t recognize or process.

We understand that this is a grisly topic and something that many are not going to want to believe. But date rape was extremely commonplace in 1963 (and still happens all the time). I’m not thrilled to say this, but I’m sure COUNTLESS Beatles stories (yes, with all the Beatles) have been sanitized over the years.

At the end of the day, though, none of us was there, and everyone is free to believe what they want to believe. -Phoebe et al -- Our episode can be found here for anyone who hasn’t listened to it yet.

#AKOM

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happybird16 · 2 years

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Some People Deserve Titles

A short Dadvi fic for Father's Day!

The kid is kept gender neutral and not really described too much.

Summary: It isn’t until nearly a year of gathering orphans from the underground that one strikes him hard with nostalgia. A feral, blood coated brat that changes his life forever.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39758424

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of prostitution, blood. Manga spoilers ahead.

Word Count: 4.1 k

Notes: I literally wrote this in three hours! Please tell me if you see any spelling errors or anything!

Tagging: @postwarlevi @jayteacups (I should really make a list of people who want tagged in stuff because I have the memory of a squirrel)

Now that there’s no titans banging on the walls, Levi helps Historia rescue kids from the underground. It’s not often. Maybe once a month or so he’ll guide a small squad of soldiers around the Underground.

He’d forgotten how bad it smells down below Sina. Every time he enters the dark caverns he’s struck by a wall of rancid stench. The sharp sting of mold and feces almost burns his eyes. It’s dark too. He’d forgotten just how pitch black all the little alleyways can be.

The mismatched labyrinth of twisted streets still feels all too familiar. It’s almost as if time has come to a standstill. All the same brothels and bars still line the streets, their floors and walls coated with a familiar filth.

It’s not hard to find kids in need. They’re often begging on street corners, or huddled up for warmth in some dark alleyway. Some are even beaten and bloody, left on a public street as an example.

It isn’t until nearly a year of gathering orphans that one strikes him hard with nostalgia. Most are somewhere around six or seven years old, though none of them ever really know their age for sure. It’s hard to keep track of dates down below, especially when you're on your own. Even Levi’s not exactly sure how old he is.

The brat is a bit older than the typical kids they find, closer to their teens. Maybe nine or ten, though it’s hard to tell since they are so emaciated. A rough looking child wielding a knife, the blade larger and thicker than their tiny forearm. The sight reminds him of himself, immediately making his mind swirl back to his early days under Kenny’s care.

Their hair is rough, matted in places and chopped into a rough and uneven cut. No doubt done so with the very blade in their tight grip. It reminds him of Isabell, her rough and choppy pig tails.

The kid must have been in a scuffle recently, probably desperately trying to get some sort of nutrition. The main road is not far off, teeming with sketchy food stalls. Perhaps they’d tried to swipe some of their stock. It’s all moldy and putrid from what he remembers, but foods food at a certain point.

Their nose is a bit crooked, red leaking down their upper lip. There’s other small scratches dotting their arms and legs. Every kid they pick up has ill fitted clothes, the hole-strewn fabric barely clinging to their boney limbs. This one’s covered in blood though, some of it bright and fresh, other parts an old rusty brown.

They look almost like a wild animal, a feral beast prepared to attack. Eyes wild and knife coated in bright shiny blood.

They fight him, swinging their red stained blade fruitlessly in the air. It’s jerky, slow. Almost like they're on their last legs, the last of their energy reserves run dry.

He takes them down easily, knocking their blade to the ground with a flick of his wrist. Scooping the kid over his shoulder, it’s almost terrifying how light they are.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” They scream and kick and fight, ignoring any of his calming words in their frantic rage. It isn’t until they reach the stairwell that they calm down. Suddenly going limp against his shoulder at the sight of sunlight in the distance.

Levi can feel their stomach rumble, loud and gurgling against his shoulder. It must have been awhile since they’ve eaten anything. He remembers how painful it’d been to go weeks without food. His stomach gnawing desperately at his insides in search of any nutrients. His mind getting hazy and thought disjointed as more and more days passed.

Once they arrive at the orphanage, Levi takes the time to explain to them what’s going on. He’d tried before, while they were fighting him, but the kid had been too desperate to listen.

“You're safe now. Can I help you clean up?” The kid bobs their head in response, but doesn’t say anything. Tight lipped, they still seem a bit wary and wild eyed.

He helps the kid clean up. They seem almost delirious, perhaps in shock. Bringing them to the small communal washroom, he helps them remove the tattered rags. Blood stained clothes line the corner of the room, trash to be disposed of as soon as possible.

They’re so small. The sight makes his heart ache. He doesn’t really remember what he’d looked like when Kenny had found him, but this can’t be too far off. They're all bones, skin stretched tight to reveal every rib and joint. Legs and arms thin and knobby, it seems as though he can see every individual bone in their little fingers.

Washing them takes time. It’s a slow, methodical process to remove all of the dirt and grime from their skin. The others hadn’t had blood matted in their hair, but he’s not really surprised by its presence.

They’re shaky. An odd, almost impossible mix of wary paranoia, of frantic fear of the cruel hands of others, yet desperately touch starved. Long unfamiliar with the kind, soft touch of another. They seem to want to jolt away from him and lean into the touch at the same time.

Wrapping them up in a large, soft towel, they seem to boggle at the fabric. Pinching it between their fingers while he gathers up some spare clothes. Historia’s done the best that she could, but most of the outfits are hand-me-downs. Rich hand-me-downs, but used nonetheless.

They fit better at least, though it only emphasizes just how bony the kid is.

Bringing them into the kitchen, he gives them some bread to eat. The orphanage has full access to fresh meat and produce, but he thinks bread would be best to start out. They’re stomachs not used to fresh anything, much less meat.

They munch on it desperately, shoulders hunched as if to protect their meal from any grabby hands. The sight brings him right back to his past.

“Oi! Eat slower. You’re just going to make yourself sick.”

They do slow down a bit, but they’re still eating like a rabid animal. He can’t blame the kid, he’d done the same thing.

“D’ I live ‘ere now?” They ask, not even meeting his eyes.

The sight of chewed up food makes him curl up his nose. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s disgusting.”

Shuffling around the room, he pulls out a small first aid kit from one of the cupboards. “It’s an orphanage for kids from the underground. You’ll meet your caretakers and the other kids tomorrow.”

The kid kindly swallows down their mouthful of food before speaking again. “Who are you?”

“Levi. I’ll be around every once and awhile.” The first aid kit clicks open with a metallic sound. “Give me your hands.”

Their knuckles are all bruised and bloody, the skin broken open in several places. “This is going to sting.” The kid sucks in a sharp hiss of air as he cleans their wounds, hand nearly jerking from his grasp.

Their nails are all rough, uneven with sharp broken edges. Without a word he immediately sets to work trimming them and filing them into pretty curves.

Their feet are rough. All the kids they pick up always have bare feet. Shoes are hard to come by in the underground, especially when you're still growing. He quickly patches up the rough spots along their soles, thankful that he’d thoroughly washed them earlier. They’d been practically caked with mud and who-knows-what.

Eyeing their rough, choppy hair cut, Levi offers to fix up their hair. He’d gotten most of the matts out, but the style is still uneven.

“Sure.” The kid seems to have relaxed quite a bit now, they barely even flinch at the metallic snap of scissors around their neck. He’s glad that they’ve calmed down. That he’s brought them a bit of security.

“You didn’t ask my name.” They speak softly, giving him their name in turn. They still struggle to meet his gaze, probably completely unused to eye contact.

Levi repeats it back to them, watching the kids face fill with joy at the sound. They’re smiling. It’s rare to see a kid from the underground smile. “You’ll do fine here, kid. There’s no need for you to fight anymore.”

Levi had always visited the orphanage every once and awhile. Stopping by a couple times a month to check on the brats, making sure none of them are giving any of the caretakers a hard time. It’s difficult for them to adjust at first. They’ve basically been thrown into a whole new world and some of them try to fight the change.

The sunlight is too bright for them, it burns their skin. The food is too hearty, too healthy, their stomachs protest the nutrients. The moonlight is too bright, it’s hard for them to sleep without the pitch black darkness.

After the kid though, he makes the trip as often as possible. Every weekend, if he can spare the time.

They grow bigger, boney, wirey limbs filling out. No longer just skin and bones. They're probably always going to be a bit small. All of them will be, malnutrition always takes it’s toll, but it’s a joy to see them filling out. Their face becomes round and youthful as opposed to gaunt with starvation.

The group spends long days under the sun. Sometimes they help with farm work, the exercise good for their growing muscles. Sometimes they spend the whole day just playing in the field. Some of them still complain about joint pain, a concept that makes him worry. What if they didn’t get them out soon enough? What if they're all destined to one day lose the ability to walk?

One day, the brat shows him a rough drawing. He thinks it’s of himself, judging by the smudges of green and black. “That supposed to be me?”

“Yeah! You're slaying a titan!” They gesture towards a large stick figure next to his green splotch.

“The pink blob?”

They’re lips downturn into a pout. “It’s a titan!”

They seem a bit old to be drawing so crudely, but he supposes some catch up is needed. “I like how you drew my blades.”

“Historia is teaching us how to read too!”

It’d been a struggle to learn when he’d first come to the surface. He’d known a few words, just a handful of useful phrases in his dealings as a thug. Learning such things gets harder as you get older, he’d been nearly thirty by the time he’d attempted the task. He’s glad Historia is going out of her way to teach them herself.

“You should refer to her as Queen Historia,” Levi corrects, feeling a bit like a hypocrite.

“Why?” They ask, meeting his eyes briefly before bouncing them back towards the sunny field.

“Some people deserve titles.” Not to mention using them will help them fit in. His own crude vocabulary certainly stands out.

“Like Captain?”

“Sure. Or even sir or miss.”

“We didn’t use any of that in the underground.”

“It’s different up here. Some people have earned respect. You should try to use them to fit in a bit.”

Some days they seem almost like normal kids, just a group of friends squabbling in a field. Their play fights are just a bit too serious, just a bit too skilled, but childlike nonetheless.

Sometimes though, they have bad days. Nightmares are common enough among the group. Sometimes one or two of the kids will be quiet for a bit. Distant before they snap out of it and join back into the play.

Levi knows it’s a bad day when he finds the kid sitting alone against a tree. Their small body is encased in the dark shadows while the other kids laugh and wrestle in the sunlight.

He sits a short distance away, more in the sunlight than the shadows. “Why aren’t you playing with everyone else?”

They shrug in response, mouth pinched tight and eyes distant. They seem tense, shoulders almost to their ears.

“You should at least get out of the shade and sit in the sunlight.” Historia likes them to get at least eight hours of sunlight a day. Even so, Levi still worries for their knees.

“Historia mentioned another knife missing from the kitchen. That you?”

Silence. “You still can’t sleep?”

The kids normally have a hard time sleeping after coming to the surface, too used to the hard stone ground. Soft, fluffy pillows are almost too warm and comforting after so long. Though, It’s already been a year. The kid should have adjusted already.

All he gets in response is another shrug, boney shoulders peeking out from the fabric of their shirt.

They’re gaze still seems distant. The kid has gotten a lot better with eye contact in the passing months, so this almost feels like a step backward. They’re almost glaring, eyes staring hard across the field towards the other kids.

“Did one of them say something mean to you?” Levi feels oddly protective all of a sudden, an urge that makes him feel almost bare and exposed.

“No. Er…yes, but…,” the kid pauses, eyes finally meeting his own. “It’s just bad memories…”

“I went through the same thing, you know. I understand it can be hard. My mom died earlier on so I had to fight to survive too.”

They sound so quiet, so sad when they respond that it almost breaks his heart. “She left me.”

Rage suddenly fills his chest, his vision swimming with red. “Who did?”

“My mama. Said I was too much work and to not come back home.” They don’t cry, but the wet sound of grief fills the kids' tone nonetheless.

Levi suddenly feels the urge to go back down there and knock down doors until he finds the woman. “She shouldn’t have done that. You're more than worth the effort.”

Levi knows it’s hard for women down there. It’d been difficult for everyone, really, but most of them had to sell their bodies in order to put scraps on the table. Hard, unforgiving work that always ended up costing them more than it was worth. The emotional turmoil, the disease, the bruises and beatings.

He hates remembering what his mom went through. The endless string of men that visited their tiny room at odd hours through the day, everyday.

Levi has no doubts the the kids mom was also a prostitute. Most were. There weren’t a lot of other options. That’s no excuse for abandoning your own child though. His own mother had worked herself to death in order to keep him alive.

Levi has to take deep breaths for a moment, an attempt to calm the rage boiling in his blood. What kind of woman would dare leave such a sweet child to struggle on their own. It was a death sentence. She had to have known that.

He wishes he could reach out and pull the kid to his chest. Swaddle them in comfort and warmth. They seem distant, though. Shoulders hunched and head tucked low, knees brought up to their torso. He’s not sure the gesture would be welcomed.

“I…I’m sorry that she did that. That she made you feel worthless.” Levi reaches into his boot, pulling one of his knives from the leather. “Here.”

The kid takes it with shaky fingers, eyes meeting his own once again. “A knife?”

“Keep it under your pillow. You’ll feel a bit safer.” It’s one of many he owns. The kid is so similar to him that it hurts. To this day Levi still keeps a knife nearby when he sleeps.

He always visits before every mission. He wants to see the kid one last time, even if it’s completely safe to wander along the island outside the walls now. He always brings treats, spending his meager paycheck on a small collection of baked goods.

The kids are all still young, they got out of there early and their stomachs recovered from eating literal garbage relatively fast. They won’t end up backed up for several days from eating meat or baked goods. Unlike himself.

He hears a familiar voice call from the distance just as he’s dismounting his horse. “Da…Levi!”

What could they have been about to say? The thought brings a loud buzzing to his ears, his heart throbbing hard in his chest. Levi chooses to ignore the possibility, instead focusing on the young teen running towards him.

It’s been almost four years since he first found the kid. They’re so much bigger now, face so much fuller and happier. The sight is almost jarring. Sometimes it’s hard for him not to see a frail little kid, shaky and scared of the new world ahead.

“Hey, Brat!” Levi can already see the kid searching his collection of snacks, already aware that he’s brought something special just for them. It’s a blueberry muffin, fresh from a bakery on the edge of Wall Sina. It’s not quite on the way, but it’s their favorite, so he’d made the stop.

They take the pastry from him with glee, lips spread wide in an open smile. The sight almost makes him do the same. “I’m not going to be able to visit again for a couple of months.”

They knowingly swallow down a mouthful before speaking. “I know, I know. You’ve told me several times already.”

“Are you sure you're going to be okay going back into the underground?” The kid had offered to go down in his place, especially now that Historia is out of commission.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine,” they roll their eyes with the words. “I’m just going to be a guide to help find new kids. It’s not like I’m going to get into fights.”

“It can be hard…going down there again after so long. You might have some flashbacks.”

They have nightmares, something also familiar to him. Most of the kids do. He doesn’t think theirs are as bloody, though.

“I’ll be fine. Just worry about your big mysterious mission.” They wave him off, patting his shoulder as they follow him inside the farmhouse.

The casual contact warms his heart. They’ve grown so much.

He almost wishes that he doesn’t have to go. That someone else could babysit Zeke until a decision can be made concerning his Titan. Part of him wishes he could throw everything away and start anew.

He didn’t sign up for this. For complicated politics. But he owes it to those he’s left behind to follow it through. To Erwin. Once he kills that ape, maybe then he can leave war behind.

If only he’d known how right he was.

The journey to the orphanage after the Rumbling is a slow one. Thanks to his knee, Levi can’t ride a horse anymore. There must have been something different about Ackermans afterall. Now that the curse has been lifted he suddenly feels every bit his age.

He’s heard friends, at least those that lived long enough, complain about getting old. That their back constantly aches, their muscles crying in protest every morning. Levi never had any of that, at least not until these last few days.

He takes a carriage, opting to drive it himself in lieu of a paid driver. It’s more private this way, especially since he’s not exactly wanted in Paradi anymore.

The roads are rough, even along the outskirts of Sina. Spotted with rubble and the remains of crushed buildings. The sight only feeds his looming anxiety.

The kid better be okay. His chest aches at the thought of what could have happened. His vision swims with horrid sights; the farmhouse trampled, marked with rocky debris and blood splatter.

Every step closer is filled with both hope and dread. Levi’s remaining eye desperately searches the horizon against his own will.

The orphanage is completely intact. The sight suddenly takes a huge weight from his shoulders. It feels like he hasn’t been breathing for so long, his chest tight with anxiety. Suddenly, he can gulp down air once again.

It’s harder getting around now that his knee is fucked up. Every step is so much slower, so much more painful. More than just his injured knee, it feels like he’s suddenly paying the price for all those years out of the sun. The malnutrition making his joints ache even after all these years.

The sight of the kid makes him feel weightless. The journey across the field is suddenly so much easier, so much faster and painless.

“Dad!” The kid is crying, cheeks dripping and nose leaking. They run to him, wrapping their little arms around his waist. His knees feel so weak that the little body almost sends him to the grass.

“I thought you died!” They sob, rubbing their snotty nose into the pressed fabric of his shirt. It doesn’t matter. His heart is buzzing too loudly in his ears for him to care.

There’s a huge lump in his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt!” Little hands dig into the fabric of his shirt, threatening to untuck it from his pants.

“You…” Levi has to blink hard for a second, tears threatening to leak from his good eye. “You called me dad.”

“Ya’ told me before. Some people deserve titles, ‘member?” Their words are slurred, tongue thick and nose congested from crying. It’d been years since he’d said those words.

“I…I have to go. It’s not safe for me to come here anymore.”

“Go? Go where? Why?” Suddenly their frantic again, asking questions rapid fire.

“Somewhere far away. It’ll be safer there.” The Jaegerists want him dead, after all.

“Can I go with you?” The kid asks, eyes searching his own.

Levi thinks back for a moment, gazing out across the field. He thinks back on how Kenny raised him, rough and bloody with the sting of his fists. He remembers the man’s final words.

He pulls the kid further into his embrace, one arm around their shoulder, the other cupping the back of their head. Threading his fingers into their hair, he can feel the wet tears bleed through the fabric of his shirt.

For his whole life, he’d always purposely avoided the idea of settling down and starting a family. At first, when he’d lived in the slums, it’d just seemed like too cruel of an existence to put a kid through. Then, once he’d been brought into the sunlight himself, there’d been another excuse. Titans. War. He’d always figured that maybe that life just wasn’t for him.

People always left him, one way or another.

His silence must be daunting to the young teen. Their grip suddenly becomes much more urgent. They speak with a quiet, terrified hesitance, voice cracking with emotion. “You don’t want me?”

He remembers their mother, casting them off to survive on their own when they were just a small child.

“No no no.” Now his voice almost cracks. He’s not sure if he's ever felt like this before, brimming with elation and anxiety. “That’s not it…I…”

Levi doesn’t really know if he’s cut out to be someone’s dad, either. He never had an example of a good father figure. Someone to make sure he was eating right, to sit by his side and talk about all of his childhood woes. Someone to tell him stories, to comfort him when he was feeling low. The thought makes his heart clench in both worry and excitement.

He could try though. He’s already been doing most of those things.

Levi hisses a bit, knee protesting as he kneels down to their level. They’re taller now, so he actually has to look up to them. His lone eye searches their little face, catching their lip quivering as they choke down tears.

“I want you.” They sniffle hard and he raises his good hand to wipe some tears from one cheek. “Sure, kid. You can come along”

“Really?” They seem to almost vibrate with excitement, even as they sniffle down the last of their tears.

Levi wraps his arms around their body, pulling the kids head to his shoulder. It’s only then that he lets tears flow from his good eye. Thoughtlessly, he presses a wet kiss into their hair. “I’ll be your dad.”

He’s happy. Even after everything. Even after all of the loss, he’s happy.

#Levi Ackerman #Levi Ackerman fanfic #myfics #dadvi #Levi’s Father’s Day #Father’s Day #fluff #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi #fanfic #sfw #tw; blood

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tobesobri · 3 years

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Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs.

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed.

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen.

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes.

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all.

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date.

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level.

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces.

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building.

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.”

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?”

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response.

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it.

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her.

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs.

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car.

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse.

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office.

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself.

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered.

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art…

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth…

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant.

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands.

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be.

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner.

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember.

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out.

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening.

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine.

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.”

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone.

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year.

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office.

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried.

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen.

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest.

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her.

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him.

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office.

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody.

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex.

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people.

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were.

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry.

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?”

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information.

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry.

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet.

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him.

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that.

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with.

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough.

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.”

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends.

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here.

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him.

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced.

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away.

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic.

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room.

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew.

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume.

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.”

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.”

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right.

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.”

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time.

“Right… I’d be upset too.”

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it.

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her.

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way.

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good…

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed.

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself.

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back.

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach.

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat.

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words.

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

#1dffvalentine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine

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plsimsuchasimp · 3 years

Text

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation.

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text.

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile.

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention?

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal.

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched.

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once.

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow.

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you?

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was.

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out.

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone?

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?”

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!”

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle.

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

#kenma kuzome #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #kozume kenma #kenma angst #angst #kozume angst #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #kozume

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farthngdr · 3 years

Text

Some Thoughts on “Dead to Rights” by Radio Company

First, if you are not a Cockles truther, you should probably look away. My tinhat is so tight it hurts. Surgical removal has been deemed too risky and would probably result in my demise.

The comments here are entirely mine, as are the assumptions incorporated into my lyrics analysis about real-life people and their relationships. No disrespect is intended. Please do not contact Jensen, Misha, or Danneel about anything you read below, or about anything Cockles-related, because there is absolutely no evidence for anything I am saying here, and their lives are essentially unknown to us.

Thank you.

_______________________________________________________________

She said It all will change If not it all can wait It may die away Over time But I do believe It's better than being alive It's better than being alive It's better than being-

Bombs away Only just begun You want to be the one to say you love The rain-

fall

When all the while the angels call; The only way to see just how it comes to be Every day To know it all falls away.

You had me dead to rights Holding down my chain; You had me dead to rights I got out again; Never been the same.

Song composed by Jensen Ackles and Steve Carlson

No official statement has ever been made by the two songwriters as to who wrote the lyrics, who wrote the music, or if words and/or music were composed by both. I am proceeding on the assumption that Jensen wrote the lyrics. He has mentioned writing lyric ideas on notepads (as shown in the above photo), and so indeed he gives much thought to his lyric-writing process.

In another track from Vol. 2, “City Grown Willow,” a song clearly written by himself, he uses “chain” imagery. Clearly, the concept of the chain resonates for him, whether the chain belongs to his lover, in “City Grown Willow,” or, as in this song, the chain is attached to himself, with the other end being held by the “she” he refers to throughout this lyric.

In addition, a close examination of other tracks by Radio Company share similar lyrical hallmarks as “Dead to Rights”: the invocation of a “she” in “City Grown Willow,” who I maintain is the same “she” as the one here, namely Danneel; “bombs away,” a metaphor for his emotional relationship with the “bomb,” i.e., Misha, recalls “cannonball, rise and fall,” from Vol. 1; other similar MC metaphors are the “fire” from “Jump into the Fire,” and “he stokes the flames ‘cause he is amused by the glow,” from “City Grown Willow.” Other JA lyrical hallmarks can be identified here as well.

________________________________________________________________

“’Dead to rights’ means having overwhelming evidence of someone's guilt, having irrefutable proof that someone is responsible for something. The idiom ‘dead to rights’ came into use before the 1850s in the United States.”

“’Dead to rights’: In the act of committing an error or crime, red-handed. For example, ‘They caught the burglars dead to rights with the Oriental rugs.’ This phrase uses ‘to rights’ in the sense of ‘at once.’”

________________________________________________________________

The theme of guilt is embedded in these lyrics--the narrator, JA, is guilty of something, and he was “caught red-handed,” as it were, by someone, the “she” in the song--his wife. The “guilty” act was more, I believe, her intuiting/noticing that her husband was in love with another--early days, perhaps before much had occurred between the two men, but wives are smart, and they can sometimes intuit when their men are in love with another, even before the husbands know themselves.

“She said”---This song focuses on the fact that the narrator’s wife notices instantly--”at once”-- the “act” for which he feels guilty. And she voices it to him--she knows he is in love with another. And she also knows who.

Thus, the “dead to rights” reference--she knew right away when her husband fell in love, and that he either wants to, or already has begun, pursuing a romantic relationship with his love. She “caught him red-handed,” even though a “crime” has not literally occurred, and, most importantly, *she is not angry or judgmental*; rather, she is concerned.

She has thought about it before she confronts him with it. She is philosophical: “It all will change”--that is, this could be a momentary fancy, and if you follow through, everything will change in your life. “if not”--that is, if this is something lasting and substantial--then “it all can wait.” What’s the rush? Why not cool your jets and see if you still feel the same way in a few months? And know too, if you do pursue this, “It may die away over time.” So be careful. Don’t jump into the fire. You could get burned. I don’t want that for you.”

What is his response to her words? He acknowledges to her: “You are right.”

He concedes that everything she says is true. But he has thought about it too. A lot. And he realizes something: “But I do believe it’s better than being alive.” This cryptic line puzzled me initially. “What” is better than being alive? Then one day, after hearing the track a few times, it hit: If the relationship crashes and burns--if it does die, and his heart is destroyed in the flames and ash--then so be it. He has decided that being with this person, jumping into the abyss with him, which could result in his own metaphorical “death,” is exactly what he will do, because “dying” from the possible fallout of a disastrous love affair is preferable to the agony of continuing to live without him.

“You want to be the one to say you love the rain.....fall” --I love the pause here, putting the emphasis on the “fall,” conjuring up the act of falling in love; and also, the possibility of falling to one’s death. And of course, the biblical “fall”--we’re all fallen from grace. He is reminding her that it is she who always says she loves the rain--metaphorically, the rainy days, the times when things aren’t necessarily all sunshine and roses. She understands and accepts life’s gifts and risks. (And we learn in “City Grown Willow” that, in fact, “Her faith in love is better on sunny days.”)

“When all the while the angels call”--I cannot emphasize enough how unequivocally this imagery refers to MC. If I have to explain how many times J has called M an “angel”.....The point being, the angel calling him is impossible for him to ignore, and he just plain doesn’t want to. When an angel calls your name................you go.

“The only way to see just how it comes to be”--a typical Jensen cryptic line, when he wants to say something but doesn’t want to be too revealing, so he does so with the utmost vagueness, to the point where his meaning is almost impossible to decipher. That cryptic line, combined with the rest of the verse, “Every day/To know it all falls away,” strikes me like this: “The only way to know if I should do it or not, is just to do it.” And in the end, he philosophizes, everything falls away in any case--”even you and I will someday be parted.” The idea of mortality--of the limited span of time we inhabit this life--is heavy on his mind. And again, he has made his decision: His love is so deep, so compelling, that he is willing to risk everything--heart and soul--to be with the angel who is calling him.

_______________________________________________________________

ADDENDUM TO MY POST:

Unless Steve Carlson has said publicly that he specifically wrote the *words* to City Grown Willow, I maintain steadfastly that Jensen composed the lyrics. It makes sense that Carlson had written the guitar piece itself, with its beautiful, cascading notes and striking chord progressions, which demonstrate his skill as an instrumentalist. It’s no accident that the recording itself features only Carlson’s playing, with no other instrumental accompaniment--probably exactly the way Jensen first heard it.

Jensen heard Steve play the piece, loved it, and proceeded to write words for it. When Carlson says he played this piece for Jensen and that he had written it years prior, I take that to mean that Jensen loved the sound of the guitar and wanted to work with it.--that the song had no words. The lyrics have the hallmarks of Jensen's writing style; the content fits his situation, with a female and 2 males as the protagonists; and HE is “the man from the mountains.” That’s not Carlson’s identity--that's a moniker Jensen deliberately chose for himself, as he makes clear in the music video.

If anyone can provide for me a direct quote from Carlson that he wrote the words, I will retract my statement. Until then, I hold my position.

#Cockles #Radio Company song #lyrics analysis is a love of mine #no offense is intended and I know nothing about anything #even cryptic lyrics can be deciphered #some people have tremendous grace and I love them #I will never as long as I live measure up to the greatness in these people's hearts

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lesbianrobin · 3 years

Note

What do you think are the good and bad aspects of each season of ST?

ok 1. thank u for this question omg and 2. this answer may or may not be a mess, but either way it’s long (almost 7k words lmao) bc i’m insane, which is why it’s under a cut. it’s still by no means an exhaustive list but these are the things that just kinda came to mind.

also i realize you asked “good and bad” and i wrote this whole post as “strengths and weaknesses” which um. is not Exactly what you asked. but close enough <3 i also ended up including a lot of au ideas ksjdckmn bc like i personally hate when people say a certain plot or whatever was bad without suggesting anything that could have improved it yknow so whenever possible i tried to provide Some idea for fixing the issues i had with the show!!

season 1

strengths (this is probably gonna be the longest section but that’s because a lot of these strengths also apply to s2/s3 by default)

nostalgia and authenticity

this one’s pretty simple, but i think that season one did a good job of blending classic eighties media homages (such as the many many e.t./el parallels) with explicit pop culture references (such as mike’s yoda impression, mentions of the x-men, etc) to create a show that’s essentially dripping in early eighties nostalgia without it feeling too forced. before st, i think the most popular depiction of the eighties in mainstream media was that overly exaggerated neon scrunchie aesthetic from the mid to late eighties, and it was usually done in a comedic sense first and foremost. st took a different approach, instead focusing on the early eighties, a time that’s often ignored in favor of going either Full Seventies or Full Eighties, and i think that this choice likely resonated with adults who lived through the eighties and hadn’t yet seen something that felt quite so accurate to their own adolescence. a lot of young people who watched st were totally unfamiliar with this period of time, unfamiliar with books/movies like “stand by me” that st borrows from heavily, and i think st lent more seriousness to the eighties than most young people had experienced so far, and this was refreshing and interesting!

the use of dnd in the show is also quite genius in a way i’m not sure i can articulate?? it isn’t something Everyone would have played at the time, but it’s something that existed within a different context back in the eighties than it does today, and it really lent a sort of authenticity to the naming of the show’s sci-fi elements. like, of course these kids would name parallel dimensions and monsters and superpowers after these similar things in their favorite game! it just feels so real and it grounds st in our reality moreso than you might expect from the typical sci-fi or horror universe.

utilization of existing tropes

almost every single character in st clearly originates from some popular trope. the plot itself is riddled with classic eighties movie tropes. almost every single element of stranger things can be clearly traced back to some iconic eighties film or just to, like, overused horror/sci-fi/mystery/coming-of-age movie tropes in general. this might sound like a bad thing, but it really works in st’s favor! starting off with familiar tropes gives st the ability to easily create a lot of complexity and make a big impact by selectively deviating from those familiar, comfortable tropes!! while el’s whole plot, hopper’s character, etc, are all examples of this in action, i think the steve/nancy/jonathan plot is the greatest example. even from the start, the fact that good girl barb dies while nancy is off having sex with her asshole boyfriend is an incredibly thorough inversion of the most well-known horror movie trope in the book. how often do girls in horror movies have sex for the first time, walk home alone in the dark of night, and live to tell the tale? nancy and jonathan’s dynamic at first glance is a sort of classic “good girl meets boy from the wrong side of the tracks, discovers he’s actually got a heart of gold” thing, but instead of following this well-trodden path, st diverged. nancy is brash, impulsive, and at times downright insensitive. jonathan is angry, bitter, and actually a bit of a creep at first. while they have the capacity to emotionally connect and support one another, they can also bring out each other’s darker side, which is not what we’ve come to expect from that initial tropey dynamic.

in addition, steve, the popular rich asshole boyfriend, is actually... a human being! unlike the cartoonishly evil jocks that we’ve come to expect (especially from eighties movies), steve has complexity. despite his initial immaturity and selfishness, he’s also kind to barb, he backs off when nancy says no, he’s gentle and sweet when they sleep together, his first big Dick Move of the season is in defense of nancy, he realizes the error of his ways after the fight and does what he can to fix it, he’s worried about nancy when he sees that she’s hurt at jonathan’s house, and to top it all off, he ends up saving both nancy and jonathan’s lives when he could have just walked away, and the three of them all work together to fight the demogorgon. like... steve began as the most stereotypical character of all time, and by the end of the season, he had one of the most compelling and unique arcs among the whole cast!

finally, at the very end of the season, instead of dumping steve for jonathan as expected, nancy ends up getting back together with steve, and they’re both on friendly terms with jonathan. i realize that i just kinda. summarized s1. but my POINT is that i don’t think the dynamics between the monster hunting trio would be nearly as fun and interesting had the characters of nancy, steve, and jonathan not been set up to follow certain paths that we already had charted in our own heads. like, within the first couple episodes of s1, it’s pretty obvious that nancy and steve are gonna break up, nancy will get with jonathan, and steve will either die or go full evil or just never be seen again. like, duh! you’ve seen this story a million times! you know that’s how it’s gonna go! so, when the story DOESN’T go that way, the impact of each character’s arc and the relationship dynamics become stronger due to their unexpected complexity and authenticity.

distinct plotlines separated by age group

this one’s rather obvious, but the way that the adults in s1 were essentially in a conspiracy thriller while the teens were in a horror flick and the kids were in a sci fi power-of-friendship story and all three converged at the end... wow. brilliant showstopping etc. not only was it just really well done and unique, it also gave stranger things near-universal appeal. like, there’s genuinely something for pretty much everyone in season one!

casting

obviously this applies to every season sorta by default, but when i think about what made season one So successful, i always think about the cast, and not just winona ryder. yes, she’s absolutely amazing in the show and it’s very doubtful that st would be as big as it is today without her name being attached to it from the start!! however, i think the greatest determining factor in st’s success is the casting of the kids, particularly millie bobby brown. like... el is just absolutely incredible. she’s amazing. this has all been said many times before so i won’t harp on it, but millie and the other kids are all So talented and charismatic and i think their casting has been instrumental to the show’s success.

strong visuals

the way that multicolored christmas lights which have been around for decades are now kinda like. a Stranger Things thing. jesus christ. those lights are probably the biggest stroke of stylistic genius on the show.

atmosphere and setting

this is probably like. the least important one here for me sdjncdsc because i think s2 and s3 both had like Even Better atmospheres and shit but s1 was good too and it laid the groundwork!! i know a lot of people would have preferred st be set somewhere more Spooky with lots of fog or giant forests or whatnot, and while i do enjoy thinking about alternate st settings and how they might alter the vibe, i think hawkins indiana was a good choice. as the duffers have said, placing stranger things in a fictional town allows them more flexibility than if they’d gone with their original plan of using montauk, new york. besides that, i think the plainness and like... flatness... of small-town indiana just Works. like, the fact that hawkins is never really scary on the surface is a big part of the horror in the lab’s actions and their impact. hawkins isn’t somewhere that people just disappear all the time. it isn’t somewhere known for strange occurrences (prior to s1, that is). it isn’t somewhere shrouded in mist and secrecy. hawkins on its surface seems like the sort of place with no secrets and nothing to fear, and that’s the point! the lab is out in the open! it’s right there! everything is so close to the surface, yet so far out of the public eye, and i think that really works.

the byers family’s whole deal (specifically the joyce/jonathan dynamic)

this is going here bc i miss it so bad in s2 and s3. i’m not one of those people who believe The Byers Are The Whole Point of the show, because st is and always has been an ensemble, and el, hopper, and the wheelers are just as instrumental to the plot as the byers, but ANYWAY, i do think the byers were one of the most interesting aspects of s1. joyce’s difficulties with supporting her sons as a poor and (implied mentally ill) single mother, jonathan’s stress as a result of having to earn money, care for his brother, and keep the house in order when his mother is unable to do so, and the resulting tension between them when will’s disappearance and supposed “death” brings the situation to a tipping point? holy shit! it’s so good! that argument after they see will’s “body” is just incredible and gut-wrenching. their relationship feels so real and messy and i think it’s just... good. also winona ryder REALLY acted her heart out and she carried a lot of s1 which i think people often forget to mention so i’m saying it here.

weaknesses

pacing/timing

ok so pacing is probably going to go in each season’s weaknesses, to be honest, because i think they all had a blend of some good and some bad pacing. good pacing is invisible pacing, though, so i probably won’t be putting it in any of the strengths sections and will only be focusing on it in the weaknesses. i’m also probably not going to talk about weird day/night cycle things, just because i don’t want to get nitpicky on timelines because that would require going back and rewatching things to double check timing which i don’t wanna do at the moment lmao. anyway, when i think of bad pacing in season one, i primarily think of two things: nancy’s little trip into the upside down and subsequent sleepover with jonathan, and the sort of staggered nature of the climax in the final episode. the latter is simple so i’ll explain it first: while i understand that each group’s respective climax is like part of a chain reaction and that’s why each big moment happens separately and at different times, i think that st is strongest when the whole group is together, and i think that makes the stakes feel higher too, so i’m not In Love with the way s1 separated everyone and gave each group their own climax.

okay, now on to the nancy/upside down thing! idk if i’ve ever talked about it before, but i think the worst decision made in s1 by far is the inclusion of nancy’s brief trip into the upside down, wherein she dives headfirst into another dimension with absolutely no backup, watches the demogorgon chow down, freaks out and runs around for a minute, and then leaves. like... what the fuck? even putting aside what an idiotic decision this was (because i do think nancy’s tendency to rush into things headfirst is an intentional and consistent character trait), it just kind of destroys any remaining suspense surrounding the demogorgon and the upside down, and it accomplishes basically nothing besides scaring nancy enough to have jonathan sleep over, which is lame. i will break it down.

like, first of all, nancy just getting to waltz in and out of the upside down and get a good, long look at the demogorgon makes the entire thing far less mysterious, and by extension far less scary. like... before this scene, we the audience haven’t got a good look at the demogorgon. we’ve seen its silhouette briefly and we’ve seen a blurry picture of it, but nothing more, and i think that is far more effective at building fear than this jaunt nancy goes on which gives us a full view of the thing and makes it into less of a horrifying nightmare and into more of a humanoid animal. like, maybe this is just me, but i found the demogorgon far less intimidating after that scene than before. it also lets nancy and jonathan know For Sure that they’re right without providing any crucial information that they need to fight the demogorgon (aka it’s unnecessary to the plot), which removes a very compelling story element (the faith nancy and jonathan need to have in order to keep going against a vague and poorly understood enemy, the doubt they might have about each other and their own sanity, the possibility that they might be wrong, the trust they need to have in each other) a bit earlier in the plot than i believe is ideal. at the end of episode 5, nancy goes into the upside down and jonathan doesn’t know where she is and it’s intense!!! you’re thinking like, oh fuck, not only is nancy missing and fighting for her life now too, jonathan might be implicated in her disappearance!! some people already think he’s the one who killed will and people know that he took creepy pictures of barb and nancy before they both disappeared, maybe this is gonna cause some serious problems for him!! maybe nancy will find will in the upside down and she’ll help him survive!! fuck, maybe she’ll actually die!! this is huge!! and then episode 6 starts and they’re immediately like oh nevermind jonathan found the tree and got nancy out and she’s fine. my point with all of this is that nancy entering the upside down could have done A Lot in the grand scheme of the plot, but all it did was just... get jonathan to sleep over so he and nancy could have some awkward romance moments and steve could see them together and pick a fight. which could have honestly happened at Any point while nancy and jonathan were working together to hunt down the demogorgon, without ruining the demogorgon’s and the upside down’s mystique. so yeah <3

weird behavior and dumbass decisions that make no sense (aka the whole camera thing)

gonna go off about the teen plot again sorry but: why was nancy so unbothered and quick to forgive jonathan for taking those pictures? girl what the fuck are you doing? why wasn’t that a bigger deal? why was jonathan’s motivation for doing it so weak and why did they just kind of forget about the whole thing? why did nancy TRACK HIM DOWN AT THE FUNERAL HOME while he was PICKING OUT HIS BABY BROTHER’S CASKET to be like hey can you tell me what’s in this creepshot you took? it’s insane. it’s so insane. i mean i think the funeral home thing is hilarious and i don’t mind it being in the show necessarily but like my point here is that i think a lot of character decisions in s1 just kind of.. happened because they Needed to happen for the plot. like, they wrote this plot that required jonathan to be secretly taking pictures of the party and required him and nancy to work together after seeing something odd in the pictures, but they didn’t like... really consider what that event would mean for their characterization and relationship. the whole thing was sort of just dropped with minimal discussion and i think it did both nancy and jonathan’s characters a disservice and was really mishandled.

lighting and saturation/color grading

i am literally begging horror/sci-fi shows to let me see shit. i GET IT okay i understand that when you’re doing cgi effects it helps to keep the lights down and i’m not mad at any of the lighting in the demogorgon/upside down scenes!! i’m really not i think the demogorgon scenes in s1 all look sick!! but like... dude. the colors. where are they. why does everyone look like a vampire. i know blah blah this was probably an intentional stylistic choice intended to mimic film at the time blah blah but dude a lot of old movies are very colorful!! please just let people have color in their faces so everyone doesn’t look like a sheet of paper!!! also i’m white and not a professional lighting designer so yknow grain of salt but i think lucas was kinda poorly served by the lighting sometimes in s1. not Hugely so, not to the degree that i’ve seen poc be poorly served by lighting in other shows, but there were some times where it felt kinda like the lighting setup was just not designed with darker skin in mind.

horror

i just personally don’t find s1 very scary like... ever. i don’t think they were really Trying to be extremely scary yknow so i’m not counting this as a big deal, but i do think that each season has improved on the horror aspects. i think s1′s horror lies more in the mystery and the unknown than in what’s seen onscreen, and as i’ve said already, i think s1 kind of fumbled that suspense ball.

season 2

strengths

the possession plot

i’ll warn u rn this whole s2 strengths section is probably gonna be really short bc idk like. how much there is to really say i feel like it’s all so self-explanatory skjncmn. anyway yeah the possession plot!! eerie as fuck, and noah OWNED. so did winona tbh and finn and sean etc but like. noah. wow! i think the possession plot helped the show maintain a good amount of tension and suspense throughout the season, and a lot of scenes with possessed!will are flatout disturbing to watch. in a good way. i think the mindflayer and will’s possession were far more genuinely frightening than s1′s demogorgon, and it provided a new layer of depth and intrigue to the antagonist besides just “bad monster want eat people.”

tone and aesthetics

halloween season... literally halloween season. halloween season. that is all.

actually i will elaborate a bit and just say that i think s2 did a good job of having the sort of foreboding vibe that s1 was often going for, but without the annoying darkness and desaturation. so points for that.

also st2 is like one of the best Autumn pieces of media ever like it just. like steve and dustin on those train tracks with the fallen leaves all around them.... god. god the vibes are unparalleled. all of the halloween stuff also really contributes to the nostalgia st runs on yknow it makes you think about childhood and trick-or-treating and you kind of get transported like damn... i remember going to the rich neighborhoods to score the good candy..... idk i just think the whole thing is incredibly effective.

“babysitter” steve

by sending nancy and jonathan off together, the show created a problem: what to do with steve? this problem pushed them to create the unconventional and unexpected duo of steve and dustin, and the world is so much brighter for it. seriously though we all know steve and dustin are great i don’t need to argue that point. all i’ll add is that i think allowing steve to grow in this way, serving as a mentor figure and becoming genuine friends with someone so unexpected, really took the originality of his character to the next level. no longer content just to defy his archetype, in s2 steve begins branching out in ways that never would have been considered in s1, creating an incredibly complex and interesting person from the sort of character that most shows would have simply written out or killed off for convenience’s sake. and it works and steve and dustin are such a joy to watch and i love them. <3

the lucas/max plot

so first of all max mayfield is the most perfect baby girl on god’s green earth and idk what i would do without her but anyway. i think lumax is the best romantic relationship in the show and not just because they’re the only ones with like an age-appropriate approach to the whole thing. it’s also because their relationship accomplishes more than just putting the two of them in a relationship!! lucas and max spending time together motivates billy to do his evil shit, providing more conflict in the narrative, and it also helps establish max as part of the group in a relatively natural way while giving both her and lucas a great subplot. lucas (and dustin) has a crush on the new girl, they start spending some time together, and lucas ends up needing to decide whether he’ll keep the secret of the upside down and lose her, or risk both of their lives by telling her the truth. that’s a pretty big, character-defining decision that he gets to make!! max has to choose whether to trust this boy she barely knows and endanger herself, or to walk away and stay safe, yet another great character-defining choice that also contributes to the sense we get as an audience of max as somebody who’s incredibly lonely and desperate for love and connection. this post is way too long already and i have a ton more to say so i’ll stop now but yeah i think lumax really Works in the show without ever distracting or detracting from the overall plot and narrative in the way that some other ships (coughjancycough) often do.

balance between the normal and abnormal

s2 i think did a pretty solid job of melding daily life with more fantastical sci-fi horror elements. i enjoyed seeing so much of the kids at school in the first few episodes!! you really get a strong sense of where they’re at in life, what their daily lives are like, and you get a sort of gradual shift into madness that makes everything feel more grounded than i think it would if they had just leapt straight into the horror shit, yknow?

the el and hopper dynamic

go back and rewatch s2 and tell me that’s not one of the most moving portrayals of parenthood and trauma and growing up that you’ve ever seen. you can’t. or well you can but i won’t listen. i really can’t imagine stranger things without el and hopper’s relationship, and it’s my absolute favorite part of s2. their whole dynamic is so beautiful and complex, and gives them each amazing personal arcs in addition! the black hole scene is literally one of the show’s greatest moments of all time. any given scene between the two of them in s2 is just guaranteed to be heartwarming as well as heartbreaking, and i think that makes for an incredible show.

weaknesses

flashbacks

okay this applies to Every season they All have too many flashbacks but in s2 specifically... please stop showing me shit from season one. i watched it. i know what happened. you don’t need to spoon feed everything to me!! flashbacks can be a really helpful way of delivering information to an audience, but st has a bad habit of not only being kinda demeaning in how often they flash back to shit that the audience already knows, but they also have a bad habit of using flashbacks almost as a crutch to avoid having to deliver information subtly and naturally.

you know i gotta say it... the lost sister

this is so sad. the lost sister really is like a great concept for an st episode, and i’m not mad about the idea of st taking a break from the normal action to focus on one story for a full episode, but the execution of it was just dreadful. kali and her crew feel very over-the-top and stereotypical, and its placement in the season totally kills the tension and excitement that was built in “the spy.”

i think the lost sister honestly could have gone over far better, even with the stereotypical fake-feeling gang kali has, if they had just swapped it with “the spy” like... ok, the end of episode five has el setting off to find kali and will collapsing on the ground seizing. right? imagine if, instead of immediately following will to the lab, we’d followed el. we don’t know what’s happening with will, but it’s a very simple cliffhanger that leaves us on edge without making us feel cheated by the show cutting away. we follow el on her little journey, everything happens much the same as canon, and then at the end, el sees hopper in scrubs. she sees mike, screaming, sees that they’re both in danger. holy shit!!! what the fuck!!! what’s happened since we left will seizing on the ground??? we feel el’s fear and confusion. she decides to go home. and then... boom. “the lost sister” is over. now, we rewind, right back to will seizing on the ground, and “the spy” commences. we learn how they got into the danger that el saw in the end of “the lost sister,” and we sit on the edge of our seats all through “the spy” and “the mind flayer,” KNOWING that el is on her way back to save them but not knowing when she’ll arrive!! idk i don’t think that would have necessarily saved lost sister but i think it may have alleviated some of the issues that i and many others have with it, timing-wise.

the nancy/jonathan sidequest

once again, the idea of nancy going off on her own little mission to find justice for barb after s1 is like. amazing. genuinely i love that plot for her and i can’t imagine anything better for her to have focused on in s2. unfortunately though i think her and jonathan’s little trip to see murray was just kind of... lame. the whole thing just felt like an excuse to get the two of them alone together, yknow? which is fine i guess people contrive all sorts of situations to get characters alone together for romance reasons but in this case i think it just really doesn’t work for me because of what it’s juxtaposed with. like, will is POSSESSED, and jonathan is just off on a mini road trip and sleeping with his bestie, and jonathan never seems to communicate to joyce/will that he left town, and joyce never like... thinks to tell him that will is like sick and fucked up and they’re looking at him in the lab??? like it’s so weird i know joyce always forgets about jonathan when shit’s happening with will but jfc you’d think at some point in that like... 72-ish-hour period where jonathan was out of town she would have thought about him. like at least once. maybe i’m forgetting something and she mentioned him sometime and i missed it but even still, i hate the juxtaposition of nancy and jonathan just like cheers-ing at murray’s place and sleeping together and whatnot while everyone else is dealing with possession or trying to hunt down dart yknow? it feels really boring in comparison and i think it could have been done far better. like it was SO insanely easy for them to get into the lab and get an admission of guilt and escape with it!! i think it might have been a lot more engaging if maybe someone from the lab tailed them to murray’s place and they had to like lose the tail and race to get the recording out to as many news outlets as possible before they got caught, or something like that. the tension in their plotline is completely resolved in episode four!! episodes five and six are just them screwing around and addressing envelopes. while there were a lot of strong ideas in this plotline (i really enjoy nancy going out of her way to get justice, and the fact that they have to water down the story to make it believable), i just think the focus on nancy and jonathan getting together hindered it a lot without adding a ton to the plot or their individual characters.

season 3

strengths

starcourt mall as a setting

while i don’t think the mall was utilized quite to its full potential (something i could make a separate post about if anyone’s interested), i do think that starcourt was a genius addition to the series. i’ve said this before, but building a new mall is a literal Perfect in-universe justification for a significant leap forward in fashion and aesthetics, and it provides a great location for characters to just... be characters. idk how else to articulate this i just think that the mall is a great setting to let people interact with each other and to bring people together who may not have been otherwise (i.e. scoops troop). not to mention how sick it was to see the mall get wrecked toward the end kdjncdkm like they were able to do so much more with the mall in terms of like The Finale than they could with just the byers house or the cabin or the school or even the lab. i love all the back tunnels they run through it’s such a fun like acknowledgement of how this glitzy eighties mall is just a real place where employees get shipments and take out the trash and shit idk it’s all about the perfect facade and what’s hidden what’s underneath what’s hiding in plain sight etc etc i’m just saying words now. anyway.

willingness to experiment and go against expectations

gay robin. neon aesthetics. giant fucking meat monster. i know some people hate both the neon and the meat monster but i personally think they were kind of amazing and like. yknow regardless of personal tastes i think it’s impossible to deny that s3 had a lot of incredible visuals, and they’re all visuals that just wouldn’t have been possible if the show were too afraid to stray from its s1 aesthetic. robin being canonically gay (and her resulting friendship with steve) and the season’s striking visuals are two things that most everyone (besides like homophobes skjncdknm) can agree were great, right? and they were both departures from where the show began and what we all expected!! so yeah i think while some of the experimentation in s3 wasn’t ideal it was also that experimentation that allowed for some of the season’s strongest elements to come about.

the hospital sequence (and the season’s action/horror scenes in general)

this one is fairly self-explanatory. while they may have underutilized the “body snatching” element of the season, the hospital sequence with nancy and jonathan fighting off their possessed bosses did an amazing job of building tension and creating a genuine sense of really intense and personal danger.

in general i think that s3 melded action and horror rather well, particularly in the sauna test, the hospital, and when the mindflayer busts through the roof of hop’s cabin. horror can come from many things, and in this case, st elicited horror largely from the feeling of helplessness, and it was really effective for me personally. i think it worked better for me than s1′s brand of horror because it doesn’t rely so much on a lack of knowledge or a sense of suspense that inevitable disappears upon a second viewing.

the body horror we got in s3 was also really fun! that’s it i just think all the blood and guts and slime were fun and i would like more of them. once again, the impacts of body horror are less dependent upon the viewer being in the dark or unsure as to what’s happening, and as such i think it tends to be a little more effective at eliciting reaction in the long term.

timing and mechanics of the battle of starcourt/finale

i think the battle of starcourt is just fucking awesome, and beyond that personal opinion, i think it’s the most high-stakes and intense finale of all three seasons, and this is for two main reasons! 1. el is out of commission, and 2. (almost) everyone is in the same cental location. this means that (almost) everyone is in danger all at once, and they are all working together at the same time to fight the same threat. s1/s2 have their groups more fragmented for the finales, and while i understand why in each case and i wouldn’t call either season’s finale necessarily weak, i do think the centralized nature of the s3 finale just Works on another level. in s1 and s2, large segments of the cast are already perfectly safe by the time el dispatches the primary threat. in s3, however, everybody save for dustin and erica is still in danger up until the last moment, and el is seemingly (you can def debate how much power she still had in her when she peeked into billy’s mind and whether the memory broke the mindflayer’s hold on him or if she was actually controlling him to some degree) completely vulnerable. this increases the tension and raises the stakes, making the finale a real crescendo to fortissimo as opposed to a series of little mezzo forte moments. i hope everyone reading this knows music idk how else to phrase that my brain is stupid.

emphasis on friendship and adolescence (but in a different way than s1/2)

this is definitely a controversial one but i think that s3 really did like... show a side of friendship that had been more or less unexplored thus far in the show. el and max were amazing, and i think it’s really nice that we got an opportunity to see the kids have some growing pains as well as see them support each other through Normal Adolescent Stuff like boyfriends and breakups instead of just like. death and trauma. this is maybe just a personal preference, but i think it can be really enlightening and provide a lot of depth when you get to see how characters respond to normal everyday conflict and not just how they respond to giant world-ending conflict!! letting el use her powers for goofy teenage shit like spying on boys and messing with mean girls at the mall is not only fun for her and the audience, but it also really emphasizes just how much those powers are a part of el, making it that much more devastating when she loses them at the end of the season.

weaknesses

tonal dissonance

so this is like. obvious. but it must still be said! i won’t go on and on about it since we all know this so i’ll try to like talk about it from an angle people don’t usually? anyway. it seems to me like they were maybe a little worried about s3 being too dark. while the choice to really lean into humor was definitely driven by the sorts of eighties teen films from which s3 drew inspiration (like fast times at ridgemont high), i think it was also done in an attempt to alleviate the more troubling implications of some events in the season, particularly the russian bunker plot. like, yeah, st can be incredibly dark, but if they’d played the whole “children being stuck inside of a foreign military base, tied up, tortured, and drugged” thing completely straight without the humorous elements that exist in canon, it had the potential to be like... disturbing on a new level. steve and robin don’t have powers like el yknow their kidnapping/torture doesn’t have any sci-fi elements to sorta soften the blow. they’re just innocent teenagers being brutalized and traumatized by grown men. so anyway yeah i think maybe the writers were concerned about this storyline coming off as too dark and they wanted it to be a little more whimsical but they ended up pushing way too hard in that direction and creating extreme dissonance at times. this goes for joyce/hopper/murray/alexei too, but to a lesser extent. i think the ridiculousness in that group felt a lot more like... realistic. but still.

newspaper plot

once again i feel like i don’t even need to say this skjdncmn we all know it was insane how the show basically ended up delivering the message “while misogyny is a serious problem poverty and classism are not” and i’ve said it on this blog a million times so i don’t need to repeat myself. i’ll focus on another weak point of this plot: the fact that it completely separates nancy and jonathan from everyone else. once again, the show’s preoccupation with j/ancy held them back! like... can you imagine a version of s3 where nancy and jonathan both worked in the mall? i have a lot of ideas about this possible au and like how the plot could play out differently if they worked in the mall but first of all it’s just more realistic, second of all it further utilizes the mall as a central setting, and third of all, it would bring everyone together. as it is in canon, nancy and jonathan were unnecessarily isolated from the rest of the group, and this isolation was detrimental to both of their characters. like, they only ever get to interact with each other! if they’d gotten summer jobs in the mall, they could have had more interactions with the kids/steve/robin, and they absolutely still could have had a similar argument! maybe in this case, nancy notices the rat thing (or something else odd) herself when taking out the trash behind the mall, and she wants jonathan to ditch work with her to check it out bc she thinks it may be related to the lab. jonathan doesn’t want to ditch work because he needs his job, nancy argues that they’re working shitty mall jobs anyway and who cares if they get fired, and we get more or less the same thing as s3 without the cartoonishly over-the-top misogyny. i mean honestly i think the rat shit could have been cut entirely it didn’t rly... accomplish much of anything. in my opinion. like imagine s3 without the rat plot you literally would not be missing anything except it would be more surprising when the dudes melted into goo at the hospital. so yeah i think it would have been better if nancy and jonathan had jobs at the mall, weren’t isolated from everybody else, and were maybe absorbed into the party’s plot or the scoops troop’s plot from very early on, allowing them to interact with more characters and have a less... dumb.... plot. like god splitting up nancy and jonathan between the party/scoops troop would have been So Much better i just. sdkjcnksdmn anyway yeah.

briefness of group reunion/separation of groups

remember in s2 at the beginning of “the gate,” where mike and hopper had a confrontation and max and el met for the first time and el hugged everyone and steve and nancy had their sad little moment together outside... where’s that energy? obviously the s2 reunion wasn’t that long either, but it made space for some significant emotional moments to take place. s3′s reunion had some hopper/el/mike resolution, but besides that... there was nothing, really. i just think that the whole group getting together in s3 was SO exciting and powerful the way they did it (with both the scoops troop and the adults having their own Big Moment reconnecting with team griswold family), but the emotional potential was more or less squandered.

i also think in s3 at times they were really stretching to keep everybody separated even though it made no sense. and like... in s1 the separation worked bc nobody else knew that (x group) was experiencing weird shit too, and beyond that, each group (as i mentioned in the s1 section) was sort of operating within their own genre and bringing something unique to the season. they’ve stopped doing that though! now, the groups aren’t separate bc each plot is tonally/structurally different, the groups are just separate bc... they need to be, because it’s a big ensemble cast and you can’t just have them all be together for a whole season or it would be way too difficult to coordinate things and keep the show dynamic. all this is to say that i’m excited for s4 because the location differences make it so there’s a Reason for each plot to be separate at the beginning, and i think that’ll work better.

general ridiculousness

i dont mean like i think it’s bad that they made jokes this is just me lumping in all the dumb shit like hopper not worrying about el and not wanting to check on the kids, him and joyce bickering long after they both know they and their children are in danger, max seemingly forgetting that billy is a racist abuser, etc etc. i think many of these are just a symptom of the show 1. trying desperately to keep the groups split up a certain way even though it may not make any sense, and 2. trying to fit into a certain genre/trope mold when their actual characters are more complex than the tropes they’re imitating. this is so fucking long already i am not gonna elaborate further rn but i trust u all know what i mean.

soooo... yeah, that’s about all! i mean it’s not all there are definitely many more things i could talk about and i know i focused sorta disproportionately on the teens which is my bad :/ but i’m done for now. thank you for asking, and apologies for the delay in responding!! i’m sure some people reading (if anyone read this far) will disagree with some of what i’ve said and that’s alright like i’m not The Authority on st or anything i’m just trying to talk about like my own thoughts yknow? so yeah luv u all i hope someone enjoyed reading this!!

#asks #em talks #lesbianrobin.canon #stranger things #if u actually read all this i love u and im sorry #these r just my opinions!! and im sure i misremembered some shit my brain is swiss cheese #i did my best tho

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sunshineseguin · 3 years

Text

take me back to the night we met || mat barzal

pairing: mathew barzal x fem!reader

summary: months after the end of your relationship, mathew still struggles to come to terms with losing you. he sees you everywhere and in everything he does. what sticks with him the most is the night you met.

warnings: break-up angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety & a near panic attack, swearing, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), possible grammatical errors, flashbacks are in italics!!

word count: 6,371

author’s note: i wrote this fic inspired by the song ‘the night we met’ by lord huron so i definitely recommend listening while reading! i wrote this fic as a standalone and don’t plan on writing a second part. feedback is always appreciated, i read everything even if you put it in the tags.

check out my players list & prompt list if you’d like!

Mathew knew it wasn’t a good idea to go out, especially on a Sunday night with an early practice in the morning. The season was about to start and he knew he had every reason to be just as amped up about it as his teammates. He should be cheering with them and drinking beers carelessly like he wouldn’t regret it in the morning. Yet, he couldn’t. The regret that he was already carrying on his shoulders was enough to last him a lifetime. Instead, he was gulping down whiskey on the rocks like it was water and he was stranded in the Sahara Desert, wallowing in his own self pity as he had been for months.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Anthony who gave it a squeeze. The blonde smiled, but it was one of sympathy, his bright blue eyes swimming with concern for his best friend. Mathew almost scoffs.

“How ya doin’, man?” Anthony asks and glances towards Anders who’s watching them both closely.

The raven haired male simply shrugged half heartedly in response. He knew his captain was worried about him, the whole team was for that matter. He hadn’t been right for a while and nearly closed himself off completely. He didn’t join in on the playful chirps at morning skate or reply to Anthony’s invites of golf with the boys. He didn’t go to the team cookouts. He barely mustered a reply when Trotz was ripping into him for being so unfocused. The guys were starting to realize they only ever saw him on the ice or drowning himself in the hard stuff at the bar. He was a walking shell of the man he had been a year ago.

“What happened, Barzy?” Anthony sighed, moving to stand in front of his friend so that he could meet his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Mathew saw a notification pop up on his phone that his Uber was approaching, giving himself the perfect opportunity to get out of his best friend’s inevitable interrogation. He knew the team was only going to let this go on for so much longer before sitting him down and making him talk about his feelings. He was already dreading all of the things Anders had to say but hadn’t yet. He tossed back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, not even feeling it burn its way down his throat with the amount he’d already consumed that night. He stood from his stool, a bit unsteady on his feet as he pats Anthony on the shoulder leaves him with few words before heading out.

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.”

The bar was definitely over what capacity should allow that night. The bar was swarmed as people shouted their drink orders at the poor bartenders who were scurrying around like mice. Patrons were spilling out onto the dance floor, packed in like sardines to the point that you could hardly move. You pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering worthless apologies to people who weren’t even listening as you desperately searched for your friends. You’d lost them over twenty minutes ago and had lost all hope in finding them.

You were starting to feel claustrophobic amidst the sweaty bodies pressed against you, chest growing tight the longer you spent in the crowd. It felt like the walls were beginning to close in on you as your head grew fuzzy. The Long Island Iced Teas you’d been consuming since you got there three hours ago certainly didn’t help. You forced your way through the crowd and to the exit of the bar, shoving people who wouldn’t move as you tried to get air into your lungs.

You stumbled out of the doors to the bar, ignoring the odd looks people heading inside sent you. Your knees felt weak as you braced yourself against the wall. Hand shaking, you pressed it to your chest to feel that your heart was rapidly pounding away. You closed your eyes and did all you could to focus on your breathing and get yourself to calm down. You hadn’t had a panic attack in some time, sophomore year of college the last you could recall, having learned what triggered them and how to keep the panic from overcoming you.

Mathew was standing farther down, away from the never ending flow of people coming and going from the bar’s entrance. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out at the street with a scowl. He and Anthony were supposed to be leaving together, walking back to their shared apartment building a few blocks away. The blonde male had been busy when Mat stepped out, chatting away with some pretty redhead who’d caught his eye early in the night. He was about ready to make the walk by himself if his friend didn’t show himself in the next five minutes.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye, alone and trembling without so much as a jacket. He looked around to see if anyone you might know was near, but no one was paying you any mind. He was overcome with a sense of worry as he stared at you, not knowing if some sleazebag slipped something in your drink or if you had some kind of medical condition. He found himself moving closer to you and asking, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” you stated breathlessly, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “I just need a second.”

You stood there for another moment until you had yourself composed, finally standing up straight when it didn’t feel like your knees would give out anymore. You weren’t expecting to open your eyes and find the person attached to the voice that just spoke to you still standing there. His hazel eyes were filled with worry as they flickered over your frame. You were too busy gawking to notice his genuine concern.

“Did something happen in there? Do you need me to call someone?” the handsome stranger asked, his gaze finally settling on yours.

“N-No,” you stuttered sheepishly, clearing your throat and blinking quickly as if that would make the nervousness go away. “It’s lame, actually, I lost my friends and… The crowd was a bit much.”

Mathew’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he knew something traumatic hadn’t happened and a laugh passed through his lips. He offered you a smile and replied, “Yeah, that is kind of lame.”

You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes, feeling your face heat up slightly. He laughed again and shook his head a bit, saying, “I kid, I kid. This place does get pretty rowdy on the weekends.”

“Not to be completely cheesy but, I take it you come here often?” you asked with a smile, wrapping your arms around your middle as the cool New York air started to seep into your skin. The adrenaline from your near panic attack had kept you from realizing how cold it was out and you’d left your jacket inside at your table. Hopefully one of your friends would grab it despite the drunken escapades they were partaking in.

“Pretty often, yeah,” Mathew grinned at the question. He was sure you hadn’t intended to use it as a pickup line, yet he found himself hoping there was genuine interest laced behind your words.

He shrugged off his black bomber jacket when he noticed you shivering and held it out to you. As you opened your mouth to protest, the look on his face told you that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. So you took the item from his hands and slipped in on with a gracious ‘thank you’ once you were swallowed in its warmth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Mat,” he replied while shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

It was silent for a moment between you, neither knowing exactly what to say. Mathew didn’t know if you were intending to head back inside and enjoy your night. While he was more than ready to go home ten minutes ago, he was now enamored by you, and wanted to do anything to stay in your presence. Usually, he was quick witted and able to charm a girl with a few simple words. In front of you he was drawing a blank, afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring you off.

Seeing you shyly toy with the ends of his sleeve, a nervous smile curling on your lips as you looked at his feet had a surge of confidence flowing through him. He offered, “Would you want to grab a coffee? I know a place that makes the best homemade crepes.”

The memory hit Mathew like a freight train as he stepped out of the doors of the bar. He was left staring at the wall, at the very spot he spoke to you for the first time. He couldn’t feel the dull ache in his chest, having numbed himself with whiskey that was far too expensive. He turned to walk down to the street to wait for his Uber, but stopped short as he caught a glimpse of a woman walking by.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared after her. It was as if time slowed down, everything moving in slow motion but her. Everything was as he remembered from that night. The way her hair was styled, the dress that stopped halfway down her thighs, the heels that echoed in his head with each step she took. What shook him to his core the most was the jacket sported on her shoulders. From the night he first gave it to her, she would always steal it, claiming it looked better with most of her outfits than his own. He never argued, because he agreed, and he would never turn down a chance to see her in his clothes. It was you — unmistakably you.

Mathew’s feet started moving on their own accord behind you. It was like you were running away, until he realized it was him who was moving in slow motion with the people around him. The streets were bustling with people of all likes, experiencing the enticing New York nightlife. He was weaving through the crowd, calling out your name, desperate, broken and begging you to put back together the pieces of his broken heart.

You kept walking and Mathew was trying his hardest to catch up, but was like with each step he took his feet were growing heavier and heavier. He let out a strangled, frustrated cry as he yelled out your name once more. Suddenly, he was knocked to the side, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling into the street. He turned to look at the man who just rammed into him carelessly.

“Watch where you’re going, you prick!” he shouted after the man who paid him no mind, receiving a few dirty looks from others.

It was then that he realized everyone was moving in real time again. His breath hitched in his throat as he spun to search for you in the crowd. You were gone. Deep down, he knew you had never been there in the first place. His mind was playing another dirty little trick on him, as it did so often the last few months. His guilty subconscious tormented him with images of you, making him watch you slip away time and time again. The hollow feeling deep within him only grew with every hallucination.

He turned his attention to the building he’d found himself in front of, and if the visions of you weren’t already torture enough, the universe had just thrown something else into the mix. Yet, he found himself making his way up to the door, the bell chiming above his head as he entered the quant diner. He takes a glance around, seeing an old couple at a table on one side of the building and a man by himself at the bartop, a laptop open and headphones in as he had a quiet conversation on what Mathew assumed was a Zoom or FaceTime call. He drops his head and walks to the familiar corner booth then slides into the seat and cancels his Uber.

A moment later, the waitress approaches the table. Mathew meets her eyes and embarrassment floods through him as he takes note of her sympathetic smile. He’s seen the smile a thousand times now from anyone who had an inkling of what he’d been going through.

“Coffee?” she asked softly, knowing the answer before he could even muster a nod.

You slide into the booth, sighing in content as the warmth from the building seeps into your bones. Mathew slides in across from you and the two of you share a shy smile as you meet eyes. Never before had he been so nervous to take a girl out. Maybe it was because you weren’t like the others. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him the first chance you got. You didn’t seem to know who he was or his status in the social hierarchy of the people in Long Island. It was refreshing and terrifying all at the same time.

You both look up as the waitress walks over with a bright smile on her face and asks what you’d like to drink. “Coffee,” the two of you say at the same time. Mathew’s face visibly turns a light shade of pink, and in turn you feel a rush of heat traveling up your own neck. The waitress smiles knowingly.

“Cream, please,” you add.

As the waitress turns to Mathew he says, “Black is fine.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both wait for the waitress to return with your drinks. Your eyes are floating around the diner, taking in some of the unique decor and 80’s flare with a modern twist. Mathew watches you closely and decides he quite likes the way your eyes shine under the glow of the baby blue neon lights. He takes it upon himself to start pointing out some of the historical decor in the building. It’s your turn to admire him and how his eyes light up when he talks about something he finds exceptionally appealing. His lips are curled into a smile as he spouts off facts to you about each item he points out.

He pauses his rant about people not appreciating The Beatles enough when he sees you grinning at him. He smiles sheepishly and diverts his gaze to the steam rising out of the coffee mug just placed in front of him, asking, “What?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a small shrug, smile never leaving your face. You stirred a splash of cream into your own coffee and quizzed, “I take it as you come here often too?”

Mathew felt his ears grow hot but he still managed to muster up a confident smirk and lifted his eyes to meet yours, “I said best homemade crepes didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

“I usually end up here after a night at the bar and I need to sober up. People say coffee doesn’t work but it sure feels like it,” he explained, “Plus, they serve breakfast twenty four hours.”

The way your eyes lit up when Mathew said that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He listened as you went on a rant about how breakfast was underrated and you’d kill for pancakes for dinner over a steak most nights. From there, the conversation between the two of you flowed effortlessly. You learned how the other liked their eggs cooked and what your drink of choice was. Your favorite colors and favorite scent of body wash. Being with Mathew made you feel as if you’d been sleeping all of these years and were just waking up. Never had you felt so drawn to someone in the way that you were to him, and him the same. Any other night, if he had met a girl in the fashion that he’d met you, he would have had you in and out of his apartment long ago. He wouldn’t be on his third coffee refill with a plate of perfectly cooked strawberry crepes in front of him.

Mathew learned that you hadn’t been in New York long. You’d moved about two months ago and had a fashion design internship with some fancy company he’d never heard of. You were looking to build your own empire in the business. With the way you exuded yourself now that you were comfortable with him and talked with so much passion about your dreams, he didn’t think you’d have any trouble. The drive you had to build a future for yourself wasn’t something he was used to hearing from the women he surrounded himself with.

The famous athlete, something you learned about him in between bites of food, was used to women throwing themselves at him and his teammates. Some of them were just looking to brag that they slept with an Islander, others had more devious intentions. They were after the money Mathew tried his hardest not to spend recklessly - the gifts he could potentially buy. Some wanted his last name, to be in with the WAGs and flaunt their relationship all over social media; to rub it in the face of others that she got what they so desperately wanted. It was part of the reason that he never exclusively dated, too afraid that there were ulterior motives behind sultry whispers and sly smirks.

The diner that had previously been significantly busy when the two of you got there had now cleared out completely. You and Mathew hadn’t realized how long you’d actually been there until you took note of the empty tables. Your waitress was standing in the corner against the wall, looking like she was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while she waited for you to leave. You and the Centerman had been so lost in each other that you hadn’t realized hours had passed and it was nearly two in the morning.

“I guess we should get out of here, huh?” you asked, hoping the gorgeous man in front of you picked up on the suggestive tone of your voice.

It didn’t seem like he did though with the way his shoulders slumped and he mumbled, “Yeah, I guess we should.”

As Mathew fished his wallet out, he felt you gaze burning into him. You weren’t ready for the night to end and you were hoping he was thinking the same. He looked up and locked eyes with you, holding the stare as you raised a singular eyebrow and a coy smile curled on your lips. Realization crossed the chiselled features of his face and he gave you a smirk before throwing down a good amount of cash on the table. He slid out of the booth and held his hand out to you, giving you a small bow as if you were royalty.

“M’lady?”

Mathew chokes on the very breath in his lungs, his eyes burning as he stared down at the cold, untouched mug of coffee in front of him. It’s no longer black, now a light chestnut color but the splash of cream he’d subconsciously added to it. He had picked that up from you because ‘only psychopaths drink black coffee, babe’. He switched back of course. This was the first time he let himself slip up and fall back into a habit that used to be so comfortable with you.

He swallows thickly and stuffs a generous amount of cash into the black checkbook, far more than what the coffee was worth. He pushes himself out of the booth and avoids the waitress’ eyes as she comes over to collect the payment. He can’t even muster a smile as he mumbles out a ‘thank you’ and exits the diner. Lori, the woman who always gave you the best service there, is left to sadly stare after him. She knows better than to ask what happened to the sweet girl who always used to accompany him.

Mathew walks a couple blocks down to his apartment building, trying not to remember how you’d clung to his arm. How your giggles echoed down the empty streets and your perfume swirled around him. When he closed his eyes he thought he could almost smell it, wondering if traces of you were lingering on the jacket hanging heavy on his shoulders. He still remembers how it felt to have your hands wrapped around his bicep and your hip bumping his as you walked pressed to his side. He enters his building and the feeling is gone as quickly as it came.

He walks into his dark apartment and thinks that it feels colder and colder every night that he comes home alone. He can’t help but take note of your missing pile of shoes by the door that he always used to chirp you for. He hangs his keys on the hook and his eyes linger on the empty spot beside it. He walks past the couch on the way to the bedroom and tries not to think about how bare it looks without the hoodies you used to steal from him littered about.

He strips into his boxers after brushing his teeth and climbs under the chilly sheets. He’s turned on his side, staring at the vacant spot beside him. He can see you there, messy hair splayed out around you and your face smiling back at him. He reaches out and grabs the pillow that used to be deemed yours, pulling it into his chest tightly. Your scent is long gone from the pillowcase, yet he still buries his nose into it and squeezes his eyes shut as if that will bring you back.

As he begins to drift off to sleep, his mind once again tortures him with visions of you. How you stumbled into his apartment the night you met as a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. You undressed each other on the way to the bedroom, clothes scattered across the floor. Your skin was hot against his as he laid you on his bed for the first time and worshiped every inch of your skin. He remembers your breathy moans in his ear as he filled you up and rocked into you, slow and deep. Your limbs were tangled as you came down from your highs, your head on his sticky chest as he ran his hand over the tangled hair on your head.

He remembers whispering, “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” and you replying, “You’re something special, Mathew Barzal.” The two of you fell asleep like that, with Mathew thinking he could spend forever with you wrapped in his arms.

Mathew awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a weight sitting heavy in his chest. He’s still clutching his pillow as he turns over and looks for you instinctively. When he’s once again faced with the empty space beside him, his heart drops. He flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s the same everyday that he wakes up, replaying the day everything changed like a broken record in his head.

Your whirlwind romance with Mathew happened unexpectedly. While the two of you did click instantly, you certainly weren’t expecting it to be so serious so fast. He was a famous hockey player who was on the road most of the year. You thought, at most, you would be someone he called when he was home in New York because you were convenient. Instead, you got the fancy dinner dates and spontaneous trips to Philly when he played the Flyers. You got a bouquet of flowers at your door when he was off on a roadie. You got to meet Anthony and enjoy quiet nights in just drinking beers and mocking shitty reality TV. You had moved into his apartment almost completely after only four months without either of you really realizing — yet neither of you stopped it.

The relationship you had with Mathew was unique. It was something people dreamed of and hoped to find. You were Twin Flames; two halves of one soul that united. You fell for each other so hard and so fast it made you dizzy. Before you knew it, a year had passed. You’d completed your internship and your boyfriend was a rising star. You had built a strong foundation in New York and it was potentially where you could put down your roots and live out the rest of your life, yet you had bigger dreams and plans for yourself. Something you hadn’t been completely honest with Mathew about.

You were scared. Scared of the unknown complications and challenges you could face. The two of you had moved so fast you were having trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality — if this is really what you wanted. What if you settled down in New York and Mathew was traded to a different team across the country? What if he decided he didn’t want you anymore in a few weeks time, leaving you high and dry? What if you didn’t really love him and you were just convincing yourself that you did? These questions had been plaguing you for weeks, especially when he was away, and it was becoming too much. So you did the cowardly thing and you ran from it.

It was nearing the Stanley Cup playoffs and the Islanders were well on their way to securing a spot, so most of Mathew’s focus had been on hockey. It never bothered you because it was his career. It’s what he did for a living and what he loved, so how could you fault him for that? The roadies seemed to fall closer together and last a little longer. Mathew now knows that’s why he didn’t notice your things slowly disappearing from the apartment then, and he still beats himself up for not realizing that you were slipping away.

He’d been on one of those seemingly long roadies and his flight came in early that morning from Tampa Bay. While they came out victorious, the games had been rough and Mathew was sore. He couldn’t wait to decompress and cuddle up with you for the few days he had off until the next home game. As the Uber pulled up outside the building, he felt exhaustion overcoming him and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

He walked through the door, lugging his duffel bag and suitcase, a sigh leaving his lips at the fact that he was finally home again. The ease he felt was quickly replaced with panic and confusion when his eyes landed on the suitcases in the foyer. His blood ran cold in his veins as he dropped his bags and called out your name with a panicked tone. The apartment remains silent so he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. His own rapid heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he pulls at his tie and moves towards you.

He drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, his eyes full of concern as he meets your tear filled ones. The pads of his fingers are rough and warm as he takes your hand in his own and whispers, “Why are your bags by the door, baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” your voice breaks as you reply, bottom lip wobbling before a sob wracks your body.

Mathew quickly pulls you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as you cry into his game day suit. Dread fills his body, having never seen you so upset. His heart is in his throat and he feels as if he’s going to be physically ill. He holds you like that, kissing the side of your head and whispering words of affirmation until you can compose yourself. You pull back from him and wipe your wet cheeks but he keeps one hand on the side of your head and the other on your waist.

Then you drop the bomb on him.

You explain that your internship was never a permanent plan to stay in New York. You have a flight in four hours that leaves for Paris. A one way ticket taking you to the fashion capital of the world to start your career. You found a job opportunity so perfect that you’d be stupid to pass up. Mathew wants to be happy for you. He wants to jump for joy and celebrate with you, but you hid this from him. You did exactly what he was afraid of and shared with you within hours of your first meeting. He’s filled with disbelief and anger instead.

“This was your plan the whole time? You hid this from me the last year we’ve been together?” he exasperates, moving to his feet as he starts to pace the room and tug at his hair.

“Everything was so good with us I didn’t want to ruin it. I was going to tell you, Mat, I swear.”

“When?!” he shouts, feeling guilty for a moment when he sees you flinch, but the anger overpowers it. “Because it looks like to me you were just going to leave without so much as a goodbye!”

You shake your head, and squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes as the tears start to well again. You argue, “I knew when your flight was coming in. I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”

“But you are. You are leaving me like that. You clearly have your mind made up about this and didn’t bother telling me,” he rebuttals, “You let me believe for a year that you were in this. I’ve given you one hundred percent, despite the hardships. What did you give me, huh? Fifty at best?”

You’re quiet, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t been all in on the relationship like him, even though you acted like it. Really, you’d had one foot out the door the whole time. Mathew’s voice shakes as he stares at you from across the room and says, “I love you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

A choked sob wracks through your body at his words and you cover your face with your hands. You knew he was in love with you, even the blind could see how head over heels Mathew Barzal was for you. He starts desperately rambling about how the two of you can make it work. Yes, long distance is hard, but he believes it’s worth it — believes you can love him like he loves you if you’ll take the risk. Why else would you have spent a year with him if some part of you didn’t think so? You put up with his relentless hockey schedule when you had every reason to walk away and live your life like the other twenty somethings you surround yourself with.

You disagree though. Long distance would only complicate things further. The different timezones would be unforgiving to your conflicting work schedules. Mathew often didn’t get long enough breaks to be able to fly out and see you and it be worth it. Plus, an international flight once a month, maybe more? It sounded like a good idea but eventually his wallet would suffer. You certainly couldn’t do it with the salary you were starting at, nor would you risk losing your job by unimportant travel to see a man. It was a negative and closed off way of looking at it on your part, but for both of your sake, it was best that way.

“It’s impossible…”

“It’s not impossible, you just don’t want to try!” Mathew yells, unable to care that his neighbors have more than likely heard every word of your argument.

“Mat, I have had the best year of my life here in New York. I’ve made memories that I could never in a million years forget. You are a part of that. I love you, God, do I fucking love you, but admit it. This was never meant to be long term. Not with the paths our lives are taking. We were never meant to last forever,” you stand from the bed and stare at him across the room, pleading with him to look at it from your perspective. You wanted to leave this in a good place, friends possibly, if he could accept what this was at face value. Two people who loved each other very much, but weren’t meant to be. The cliche ‘right people, wrong time’.

Mathew couldn’t though, he wouldn’t. He was blinded by a rage that he had never felt before. You had wasted his time — a year that he could’ve spent entertaining pretty girls who threw themselves at him for a quick fuck. Partying with his teammates and friends and reveling in his success that was only growing with every game he played. He finds himself wishing he had left you alone that night outside of the bar and just gone home. He lets the fury coursing through his veins take over, and with his fists shaking at his sides, he grits out in a low voice, “Get out.”

His words don’t shock you. You don’t know what other outcome you hoped would come from this. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain that shoots through the center of your chest though. He won’t even look at you, hard gaze concentrated at your feet with his jaw set tight. You fight the urge to go to him. Wrap your arms around him and take it all back. Promise him you’ll stay even though you’d be sacrificing everything. It wasn’t fair to you, so you force your feet to carry you out of the bedroom and out of his front door for the last time. The sobs come once you’re in the elevator, then again in your friend’s (who was nice enough to give you a ride to the airport) car while they held you.

A few seconds after Mathew hears the front door shut, he��s tugging at his dark hair and letting out an agonizing shout. His breathing is ragged as he paces the room and debates running after you, but what would he say? The argument seemed final. You were set in your plan to take off to France and he couldn’t change your mind — he couldn’t make you stay. So he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself to feel the heartbreak, a guttural sob passing his lips.

Mathew closes his eyes and sucks a deep breath into his lungs as the memory fades. His heart is heavy in his chest as he reaches over and retrieves his phone from the bedside table. There’s a text from Anthony sent in the early hours of the morning, asking if he’d made it home safely. He doesn’t reply, instead opening the Instagram app and pulling up your profile.

His breath catches in his throat as he looks at your most recent picture. You changed your hair, a slightly different cut and a different color, but you’re just as breathtaking as he always thought you were. You’re sitting at a cafe with a cup of some fancy brew in front of you and the caption is in French, something about dreams coming true. Though, he’s not focused on some silly caption when he can’t take his eyes off of you. You look happy, wearing a smile he used to see when Anthony or one of your friends would sneak a picture of the two of you. Regret floods his body, the memory of the day you left still fresh in his mind. He thinks about liking the post just to tell you that he still loves you and he hasn’t forgotten about you. He exits out of the app before he allows himself to succumb to that urge.

He forces himself out of bed and into the shower before he’s late for practice. He mulls over in his head whether he should text you or not. He knows you more than likely won’t reply with how things ended all those months ago — now that you’ve moved on and you’re happy without him. He wishes he could too, yet he carries so much guilt for the things he said and allowing himself to have his heartbroken in the first place. He misses you like hell and the never ending visions of you plaguing his mind only makes it intensify.

Mathew heads to the rink in silence. He doesn’t speak to his teammates in the locker room and goes through the motions of practice in a daze. He’s not there completely and everyone can see it in his eyes. Anders is planning to pull him aside, Trotz insisting they have a talk and threatening to bench number thirteen until he gets his shit together. Mathew can tell. No one has tried to speak to him and Anthony keeps throwing him a side glance every few minutes. He prepares himself in the brief post-practice shower.

“Barzy, mind hanging back for a sec?” his captain asks as the other guys begin to filter out of the room.

He huffs out a sound of agreement while fishing his phone out of his duffel bag. His mom usually texts him a few times a week so he needs to let her know that he’ll give her a call later. He nearly drops the device as his eyes hone in on one message. Anders is talking but his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears he can’t hear him. He clicks on your name and feels every nerve in his body ignite at what the text message says.

I miss you. I’m coming home.

tagging the gc bc I love them @bricksatlandyswindow @butgilinsky @barzysthighs @babytkachuks @dmonchld @anxietyandtacos @sortagaysortahigh

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