#like she sees him out in the rain without an umbrella or raincoat or anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peeterparkr · 2 years

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perennial;tom holland|final chapter.

chapter nineteen: perennial↳ meanings: lasting or existing for a long or apparently infinite time; enduring or continually recurring..

chapter summary: a wedding, a storm and a question pairing: tom holland x y/n warnings: :) none I think, except I proof read it with covid so it might be messy word count: 11.5K

previous chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

it took me ages to write this, I am so sorry, I procrastinated this long enough because I didn't want to let go of it just yet. Thank you to every single one of you who read this and who is still here. I'm so sorry it took so long and I hope it was worth it. I loved this story and writing it was a true pleasure. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Please help me out reblogging tags havent been working for me and I know this will flop but I’m really happy I finally finished this. Enjoy!!

“It’s Harry!” Y/N said as she saw curled wet hair, from a distance, growing with the humidity. A tailor-made tuxedo walking with his arms hugging a bunch of umbrellas as he was trying to open James’ car trunk.

Tom was as shocked as y/n was and thankfully forgot the flirting comment she thought she had stupidly said. That was a lie, he wouldn’t forget it.

He couldn’t. And it wasn’t stupid.

Because there was a door that could be opened. And it was easy to live with hope. Knowing he’d risk it all just to lose her again.

She stopped the car as they both watched Harry.

Tom hadn’t forgotten about the comment. Instead he kept replaying it in his head.

Maybe it was more than he actually thought it was. Maybe it wasn’t.

Tom had been different since the breakup. He realized he had to grow, for her, sure. But mostly for himself. He realized he was only kidding himself if he tried admitting that it wasn’t working. He knew that time was playing a joke on him. Sometimes it went too fast and some others, it stopped.

He knew they both were the problem and the problem was that they… didn’t really see it.

Although, he had tried moving on that is. Because at some point, and giving it quite a thought, he realized that his friendship with her had been the most valuable thing he’d earned. And though romance was never his lack, he knew he had to learn who he was with her in his life without wanting anything more than a smile.

It was hard, however. Like cheating to his own heart. Broken hearts caused by oneself often are the most painful.

How does one move on knowing both of you love each other?

What even is love? If not a promise to stay or a promise to fight.

How hard it is to keep away from a person who was once your everything. To control impulses. Hold hands to himself and not kiss a cheek. Hold back words. The urging impulse.

He felt ready, yet there was something holding him back. Perhaps fear. Fear often shadows the light that love can give.

Good thing he had his mind preoccupied.

Harry was walking right to the place where they thought they would find him.

Tom knew they would find him. And he was close to where Tom’s heart told him Harry would be. Near Harry’s first kiss with Emma. Near the park. A park that Harry and y/n had discovered, a quiet place for them to think. To talk. And later for Harry, apparently, to make out with Emma.

Tom didn’t know how to explain it, but he had known he’d find him there. Outside that stupid shop. A shop that sold umbrellas, and raincoats only.

Tom wouldn’t have guessed he’d be at that shop, but he had known he’d be at the cafe beside it.

Escaping or not, Harry often tended to go to places where he found familiarity.

Tom figured he had gone to the park or the cafe to come up with a solution. Or to soothe his mind, he understood marrying can be… scary.

“How the fuck did we know he’d be here?” Y/N questioned.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe both of them knew his brother. Maybe…

Harry was under the rain, his hair falling down to his eyebrows. With umbrellas hanging from his fingers as some others slipped off him. Struggling. A caricature of someone who looked very familiar to Harry but who Tom didn’t recognize. He was in shambles. And of course he’d be.

Y/n parked right behind him.

“Harry!” Y/n yelled trying to get his attention as she jumped out of the car. The heavy rain making her heels click against the water.

Harry only turned to her as he tried hugging the umbrellas. “Y/N? Tom? What are you doing here?”

He sounded…conflicted yet relieved.

“We thought you had escaped! We were looking for you, you fucking moron!” Tom yelled at his brother as soon as he hopped out of the car. “What on earth are you doing?”

The rain was heavy, annoyingly enough. Both y/n’s dress and Tom suit were nearly soaked within seconds.

“I’m getting umbrellas! The wedding is outside!” Harry explained. “I saw the weather report and if you can’t fucking guess it from this, it’s raining!”

“You’re not escaping?” Y/n questioned.

Harry didn answer right away. Tom and y/n bared witness to the troubling thoughts Harry was currently having.

“Harry?” Tom reinforced.

“N-No-no! No!” He had stuttered. “I—I saw the weather report this morning, and I wanted to come up with a solution so I came to the park to think and then I wanted a tea to calm myself down and like bloody magic, this shop sells umbrellas!” Harry explained.

It wasn’t magic though, it was because they were Harry and Emma. Of course there would be a bloody rain shop beside him. The universe plotted for them. Was this love? Having second thoughts?

Tom and y/n turned to each other as if deciding to believe him or not. They decided to believe him for his own sake. Or ignore it, even though they both thought they’d found Tom’s brother in a very compromising position.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Tom exclaimed. “You scared us, fucking idiot.”

But then again, who were Tom and y/n to judge?

“Can we talk about that later? Help me get all of this and buy some more! I ran out of cash!” Harry said.

Tom directed a glance at y/n. “Go back, I’ll get more. I’ll drive back in a bit.”

He needed time. To think. As if to give the wedding the opportunity to humor him, besides, aren’t weddings supposed to engage romance and other activities?

Y/N was hesitant at first but agreed as she drove away with Harry. She understood that it was Tom’s plan to get Harry back as soon as possible.

It didn’t take Tom much. But it gave him time to think. About him. About her. Go over and over again the story yet once again.

Was their love ever enough if they barely knew what love was?

There were regrets still. But there was more regret lately, for shutting up how he felt. For driving away from her. Fear of losing her. Completely.

He had lost her so many times before and losing her now when he had something to latch on would be the one most painful thing. He didn’t want to ruin it by trying to hold on to something more.

Love, as we know, is complicated. And to slow down when they once went beyond a speed limit was agonizing and disappointing.

Because… what is love but being hurt when it ends?

The rain fell heavier now, as if it was humoring him into his sadness and distress. His mind had not been the same since he had dared to open a drawer full of memories that he had forgotten why he had to keep them away.

A drawer that held down her smell, that bottle of perfume that she often wore in her daily routine, that also kept her kiss with that red lipstick that she’d bought. A few nights with him were also kept there, a few polaroids, an old dvd and a journal that had the audacity to tell their story.

Tom had gone through it and he was reminded of a script that he once read and broke his heart. But the journal told another story. As if it was the same one but from another perspective. A pretty one.

With flowers, here and there. With the meaning of flowers that he didn’t quite understand, the real ones and the ones she gave to them.

Yellow flowers: often spreading joy.

Was her journal… their love?

He got the umbrellas. And wanted to believe his brother, had he really been concerned about that? Or was he really worried about the rain?

Tom went to another shop to buy even more umbrellas, though he wanted to assume they’d have more at the hotel. He found an umbrella with yellow flowers, sunflowers.

But it seemed there was a bigger storm awaiting for him.

He kept thinking how he didn’t need much before, just her laughter echoing behind.

The storm inside the hotel wasn’t as inviting. Apparently Emma had learned the news.

“Emma? Are—are you there? Please let me explain myself.” Tom saw his brother against a door, defeated.

James, Clark and Sam were behind him.

Y/N was at the end of the aisle, talking to Tim. Tom, although had tried to grow past the jealousy and although he knew Timmy was dating Lily he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

Y/N had never truly forgotten about Tim, and Tim had never truly let go of her. And Tom knew they never would.

Tom didn’t blame Tim anymore, how hard was y/n to move on from.

Tom had gotten used to them, Tim and y/n. Because Tim had realized whatever he’d felt for y/n was less important than keeping her in his life.

Tom needed advice on that matter. How does one ever move on from love? If that’s really what they felt.

Did Tim ever love y/n? Did y/n ever love Tim? How would Tom know? How does one know when love is enough or if your love is supposed to last?

Tom heard just a bit of the conversation. Emma believed Harry had escaped. But everyone kept saying the only thing that mattered in the end was that he was there.

Emma was angry. Harry was regretful.

But she listened.

And then didn’t.

“It’s not even you running away that bothers me,” Emma said. “We need to cancel it, Harry, everything is against us, always,” Emma said behind the door. “Don’t you think it’s a sign? We should call it off—“

“I don’t fucking care if there’s a storm, I love you and I want to marry you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you even if all the odds are against us.” Harry’s words resonated.

Even if the odds were against them.

How Harry managed to convince Emma that he hadn’t escaped was a mystery to Tom.

He hadn’t quite listened to anything, not really. Or he had and simply decided he’d use it for his own advantage.

Fight against odds. He should’ve. Probably. Was that love?

Was love fighting against all odds?

“Can I dry my hair in your room?” Y/N asked, bringing Tom back to his mind after a few scenes happened and Tom decided to ignore. “And… re-do my makeup. And maybe shower?”

Her room was shared with Emma, and though she would have it for herself that night as Emma would clearly not spend her wedding night with y/n, she was in need of another room. Because y/n, although a maid of honor, she needed to redo everything as the rain had almost ruined the masterpiece she had created before.

Tom accepted.

They both took a shower, separately,clearly, to avoid any other circumstances that might lead to a boulder in their path.

Y/n said she didn’t want to catch a cold from the soaking rain. Tom said he felt he smelled.

After he was finished, he watched her from the mirror in the bathroom as she sat on the bed, and it felt so natural.

Very rutinary, how they were comfortable around each other enough. Tom was shirtless, only a towel around his waist as he was letting his shirt dry enough to attempt to iron it. She was wearing a hoodie she had borrowed while her dress was drying.

“He did try to escape,” Y/N said, as she brushed her wet hair.

Tom frowned. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

Harry had indeed tried to escape and although it made barely any sense to Tom, y/n explained how Harry was scared of odds being against him and Emma. How Harry had felt it as a sign, indeed, how the first time they got engaged their party was ruined, how when he’d realized his feelings she had left, how when they got back together their schedules went wrong, and how on their wedding day, ironically enough, it was raining.

The universe telling them not to do it, he had said. But Harry had realized, how even if everything was against them, he still loved her and it was all that mattered. All that mattered was how they had overcome each rock thrown their way.

“I guess,” y/n said, “we did have something to do with it. He said it, how he—“she cleared her throat. “You know, he did say something about being miserable if you don’t try at least.”

Tom didn’t answer, he only stayed watching himself in the mirror.

Yes, miserable. That’s the word.

Silence filled the room once again, and there was barely anything to talk about. But it didn’t feel awkward, or wrong.

Tom missed her silence, and not in the way that he didn’t like talking. He missed the way he could have silence and peace with her, and it was alright.

Yet right now her silence meant his mind being loud, and he probably didn’t like that.

She walked to his side picking up the hair drier, Tom should’ve and could’ve left but didn’t.

“Hey, I’ve got to be honest with you,” Tom called out, hopeful she’d be able to listen to him even with the drier on.

“Hm?” She crossed her sight with his reflection.

Tom gulped, grabbing his toothbrush.

“Uh, the reason I’ve been avoiding you,” Tom started loud enough for her to hear him. “It… it was because I… well I opened your drawer,” he said, getting the toothpaste out.

Y/N turned off the hair drier. “What drawer?”

Tom gulped. “The one you had at my place, your drawer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, still some stuff there.”

There was a silence as y/n looked into her makeup bag, breathing in slowly, as if trying to rearrange her thoughts. Tom tried to distract himself by brushing his teeth. But it wasn’t enough. His mind was going from the thought of the stupid drawer to the fact they were being them again. Sharing a mirror, while she did her makeup and he fixed himself. But now they weren’t kissing each other's cheeks or giving dirty looks. It was just them sharing a stupid space, not a momnet.

“I thought I had… taken everything,” she said.

Tom shook his head and hummed.

“I’m… sorry, I’ll pick it up in a few days,” she nodded.

“I found your notebook,” he said after spitting. “Your journal.”

She instinctively handed him the towel to clean himself and then reached for his hair brush, meeting her hand with his. “Oh, sorry I was about to hand it to you.” She still knew his routine. She cleared her throat. “My journal?” she chuckled. “Well it’s not really a journal it’s…”

Tom leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection, directing a smirk. “You really are impressively cheesy,” he teased.

She smiled, as she was cleaning off the ruined makeup. “I tend to be, yes.”

“Pressed flowers?” He asked, remembering the notebook. Flowers pressed here and there, with pictures of them and a perfect memory of them.

She scrunched her nose. “Yeah.

“Writing the dates? Adding Polaroids,” he kept watching her as she was blushing, trying to focus on her makeup instead. He helped her get her hair off her face. Her eyes flickered as he did.

“Look, I’m very cheesy and it was romantic and sweet in my head,” she explained, annoyed, as she started applying her makeup. Tom knew her, though, how she was annoyed when he took control of the situation.

Although subtle touching had always been theirs, they had stopped for a while.

“No, no, I get it,” he smiled to himself, gently nudging her. “That’s just— I didn’t know about it.”

She looked at a makeup brush, and tried focusing on herself. “Yeah I never…” She paused. “I mean it wasn’t a big deal, it was… you know, moments and such,” she whispered.

Tom couldn’t hide it, so he tried walking away, hanging his shirt and bringing the steam press. “Right, that’s romance to you, the moment and everything.”

Y/N was the one now watching him from the mirror. “Yeah, you know me, I'm ridiculous.”

Tom met her gaze, “No, you, you really aren’t.”

She took a heavy breath with her eyes speaking more than her words, maybe she was feeling it, too. How it was them. Her eyes were hopeful but scared. She shook her head. “Well, you can keep it or you can give it back to me, it’s okay.”

Tom coughed. “I—that’s why I have been avoiding you,” he explained. “I dunno what to do with it.”

Y/N spent a long time staring at the colors in her makeup palette. Tom stared at her, how much she’d changed. How much they both changed.

“I hadn’t realized I gave you that many flowers,” Tom mentioned. He never seemed to realize how many times he’d just shown up with flowers. Yellow. Pink. Red. White. Blue. Flowers came to them like kisses. A flower was a kiss, and a flower led to a kiss. She’d give him flowers too.

“Yeah.”

There was silence.

Tom really wanted to say more. He really believed that she was feeling it, too. He cleared his throat, turning to the clothes instead. “How does this…?” He stared at the steamer.

“I have no idea how that works, don’t use it, you’ll end up burning it,” she admitted. “Didn’t you have another shirt? Didn’t you bring like three? And another suit?”

“Yeah, but I liked this one and I gave the other to Harry.” He sighed and then walked to the closet, taking out two other shirts. He brought it back to the bathroom mirror, placing both on top of his chest. “Hm.”

Y/N stopped applying whatever she was applying to her eye and stared. “Oh, the blue one. We’ll match,” she coughed. “I… No, we don’t have to…”

“No, no, I like that, it’s the wedding theme…”Tom nodded, noticing her embarrassment. “Yeah, but… what suit?”

“The one with the buttons?” She suggested. “You’ll look nice.”

Tom took a deep breath staring at the options. “And when did you take all those Polaroids?” He wanted to meet her gaze again.

Was this love?

She looked up. “Most of them were candid, I bet I could sell a few of those to some paps,” she chuckled.

“Earn some cash,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’d better keep them to myself,” she admitted, nonchalant. “I dunno when I took them, I found the time.”

“Right… Yeah well I found it.”

“The suit?”

“The journal.”

“Ah…. right,” she cleared her throat and finally met his gaze.

Tom stuck his tongue out, “And I—had some sort of crisis because well.”

Y/N stopped. “Yeah, it’s—Looking back at it…” She cleared her throat. “It’s still.”

Tom chuckled, dryly. “Yeah, it’s just….” He gulped. “Interesting, and then looking at us now,” he smiled. “All decent and friendly.”

Silencing himself, sure, decently and friendly. But not… good.

“We were decent back then,” she stated, sarcastically.

“I—yeah but I mean, we were really in love,” Tom mumbled.

She looked down. “We were.”

It hurt. “I’m...I’m going to change so, eyes over there,” he warned.

She laughed, “You've been walking around in only a towel. I don’t really need to have a look.”

Tom smirked, “Yes but it’s just a taste, I won’t give you a full meal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t want to see it, actually. I don’t need to, If I wanted to see you naked I’d only have to close my eyes, idiot, I can just imagine it.”

He let out one single laugh, “Do you do that often?” He smirked.

“No,” she answered simply but winked at him.

Was she flirting? Tom had to only wonder. He didn’t believe she was. He knew firsthand how she flirted. This wasn’t it.

He didn’t know if she had tried to sneak a peek, but he had walked back to her with the suit back on. She probably hadn’t. “Or… should I change the shirt?”

Y/N smiled warmly, “No, you look very handsome,” she admitted adjusting the collar of his neck.

He blushed, slightly. “At the end of the day, bringing back…. The previous conversation, I mean, we both know there was no one to blame.”

She turned back to her makeup, almost done now. “Yeah, there’s no villain here, it would be useless trying to find one.”

He took out two lotions and showed them both to her, as she pointed at her favorite. “I wasn’t right and you weren’t wrong but…”

“Yeah you weren’t wrong and I wasn’t right either.”

Tom knew he had to bring it up. “And… are we going to talk about last night?” He was nervous. The night before she had almost leaned over but he had panicked and backed away. “How you tried to—“

Y/N squinted her eyes, “I—sorry I yes—I’m very sorry, I got caught up in the moment and I was kinda drunk.”

Of course.

Tom coughed. “No, I—I understand.” But he wished he didn’t. Or he wished he hadn’t backed away. “I’m sorry for—“

“No! Don’t apologize! You did the right thing—I was just— I won’t do it again. I know we are friends and I want to remain friends because that way we both can be together,” she was saying mostly to herself. “As friends I mean. We can—yeah.”

Tom watched her. He wanted her to try again but of course he would never mention it. “Yes and I well—I think we both, I don’t know, maybe it’s the wedding because—“was he going to tell her that he had also wanted that.

How weird it had been, her getting drunk and claiming he had been ignoring her. Him accepting he had and that he would’ve called in the morning when they were more-sober.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, yeah, weddings get everyone in a romantic mood ,” she confessed but then blushed. “No, no—I mean—It just—drives everyone crazy and—“

Tom gulped. “Yeah… but uh, we-we are good right?” He was scared she was angry that he’d backed away but when it happened a million things had come to his head. Not that he had not wanted to kiss her but he didn’t want it to be that way. Not drunk again. Not after a night out when they’d regret it in the morning and blame it on the alcohol. No, he wanted something where they both wanted it. Not making up for anything. Just—a kiss because they both wanted it.

Y/n nodded as she fixed her hair, nervously. “Yes of course, all good…. And I’m glad we had that conversation… While looking for Harry…” she reminded him. It had been a good conversation. She walked away to her dress. “Well, I think the dress is… not as cold and wet.”

Tom followed after. It was… ruined. The once beautiful dress was partially ruined with rain and was stained with… what Tom would say was dirt, or mud. Just slightly at the bottom. “you should wear the hoodie,” he suggested. “It’s also blue.”

She looked down at it, sky blue, it could techincally work, if it weren’t for the fact it was a wedding. “I know, right? It’s elegant.”

Tom grinned. “no but… we could try using that steamer?”

She looked at it, skeptically. “No,” she answered simply. “I’d rather catch a cold than ruin this dress… well.” She left to put it on.

Tom was left alone with his thoughts, which didn’t help.He knew that the problem was that he technically could go after her. There was barely anything stopping him. Except for the fact that they were friends.

“help me with the zipper, please?” She asked, walking over to him.

This felt like love.

He had to refrain himself from trying to kiss her neck so he decided to distract himself. “Don’t you think it’s crazy?” He asked as he zipped her up. “A wedding under the rain?” Without anticipating his movements his hands landed on her waist

“I think it’s crazier to drink cold coffee from yesterday,” she answered with a smirk, turning around. He kept his arms around her.

Tom blushed, cackling softly. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

Y/n grinned walking away from him, Tom took his hands back to himself. “I am not.”

She looked for something in her bag, her jewelry. She walked back and handed him the necklace, Tom helped her with it.

The ballerina. A ballerina he’d given her.

Tom gulped but didn’t mention anything. How could he?

She had to take a deep breath as she felt his hands tracing against her skin. Tom noticed the sudden movement and slowed down. He got closer to see the tiny clip on it. His breath fanning against her neck.

“You know it’s, funny,” he started, still barely an inch far away. “I was just thinking about it, that before I, well, I ever admitted out loud I had a crush on you I used to describe you as a cold cup of coffee that was left to sit for a day.”

She turned to him as she was finishing with the earrings, they were too close and he didn’t take a step back, as she now needed help to get her bracelet. “Oh?”

Tom smirked with mischief as he wrapped the bracelet in her hand, bringing it close to his sight. “Yeah.”

“And, now that you’ve tried it?” Her gaze was searching for his. “Does the description hold up?”

Tom knew it was his moment to shine. “Absolutely, yes, very disgusting.”

She rolled her eyes as she nodded knowingly, “I’ll take notes of that, thank you, I’ll add it to my dating profile.”

Tom didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh you’re—you’re on a dating app?”

Y/N seemed to be the one to notice the reaction this time, Tom could see a sense of pride becoming her as she packed her makeup. “Oh no I was just joking.”

Tom saw the reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t tell if she was lying. “Right.”

Y/N did the same thing Tom had before,bringing two perfume bottles for him to smell. One of them he recognized immediately. It was her date night perfume. Or the Tom perfume. He remembered smelling it every time they went out together. And the other one was new, but felt very her still. He’d probably recognized it too.

He chose the second one so he would be able to keep it to himself..

“Yeah because it would be funny to add it to a dating profile,” she said as she sprayed the perfume on herself.

“Yes very-funny yes yes I know,” Tom was getting nervous about the subject. Or the perfume.

Probably both. “But I mean uh if you are then—uh—In a dating app I mean, good luck!” He walked away from her to check elsewhere, looking for his watch.

“Yes, yeah yeah you too—but no I’m… I’m not,” she said. Y/N seemed to be left alone on the other side of the room and it seemed that she didn’t like it as she slowly followed after him.

“Yeah you’re not—“Tom stated and then rethought it. “I don’t think you’d be one to be on a dating app.”

Y/N smiled sweetly, “No, I… like meeting people organically.”

Tom glanced at her. “Maybe you could find someone at the reception!” He suggested it and instantly regretted it. “Maybe Timmy Tim brought some friends!” He didn’t know why he kept talking.

Y/N scrunched her nose. “I know most of his friends, that would be weird.”

Tom was trying to avoid her again. Knowing that minutes before he could’ve kissed her. But didn’t. “Right, but there’s more people ,right?” Repeating the word could distract her.

Y/N wasn’t as eager with this conversation. She headed near the window watching the rain. “Maybe, yeah,” she hugged herself, “ what about you?”

“Oh I’m not—looking for anything I’m very busy.”

She coughed. “Oh, yes, for sure.”

He had been busy, which might have been one of the other thousand reasons why they’d broken up. One that they would easily admit. Both of them had been.

Tom didn’t know where he wanted to go with it. “But I could be your… wingman tonight.”

Y/N chuckled, turning back to him, crossing her arms. “My wingman?”

Tom let a wide smile spread across his face. “Yes.”

“Huh, who would’ve thought, my ex is going to be my wingman.”

Tom shrugged and entertained. “Hey, who better to help you out than a guy who was deeply smitten with you?” He said, “ I’m going to really give a good word about you.”

She rolled her eyes, “I can only imagine, please start with the coffee thing.”

Tom blushed, as he searched for his belt. “Or I could go with the other one.”

Y/N followed to search for her shoes. “Oh?”

They both sat beside each other, so synchronized as they were putting on their shoes. “Yeah, I believe I also used to say you were like rain pouring down on your wedding day.”

Y/N nodded understandingly. “Nice, you get to test out both of those.”

“Lucky me!” He grinned standing up.

“And me, it’s really going to help me find someone if you’re going to tip me in with that.”

“Absolutely,” he grinned. “But you’re doing all the work in that dress.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Well, shall we?”

He offered an arm. “We shall.”

She checked her phone. “James is texting me about how I need to go with Emma.”

“I’ll escort you there.”

“What a gentleman,” she grinned, not letting go of his arm. He didn’t mind. “I—I used to say that I’d rather have grounds in my coffee than to spend time with you, so you could add that to your dating profile.”

“Hm, grounds in your coffee.”Tom chuckled. “What’s the verdict now?”

She scrunched her nose. “I—really hate grounds in my coffee.”

Tom sighed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was wrong, so you could say you’re better than grounds in your coffee.”

“Ah, excellent.”

Tom finally was at peace with himself. He hadn’t talked about it much but he had always had that tinge of guilt every time he remembered ruining the engagement party, so finally being there was soothing.

Like a reward, of sorts.

The rain kept falling down, not as heavy as before. The bridesmaids would walk down the aisle while the best men were already there. Harry had asked Tom once if he wanted to walk in with them and they could change things up just so he got to walk in with y/n. Tom had declined the offer.

Harry had never given up on them, he was the one to always assure Tom they’d be fine. He had understood the break and had encouraged it. Harry had told him this: “You and y/n started on hatred. If you both build a friendship and then build upon it, nothing will ever break you apart anymore.”

But Harry wasn’t really thinking about Tom and y/n at the moment.

He did think about y/n before, however. How funny fate is, how funny love is. How you think you love someone and then realize, you don’t. Or do, in a very different way.

He found it funny how the ‘girl of his dreams’ had introduced him to the love of his life. Sometimes the unexpected is what you’ve been expecting for the most.

It was funny.

Walking down the aisle was funny to y/n, even as the rain fell down on her gown even under the umbrella. The bridesmaid making their way down the aisle as the rain sprinkled around them. Struggling to not slip and fall, and holding an umbrella that didn’t match her dress.

Tom saw her, with that glowing smile she held, giggling as she walked down holding close to her umbrella. Knowingly, somehow.

Most people were covering from it, colorful umbrellas Harry had gotten.

Tom was already at the end, he had a blue umbrella, she’d chosen the yellow flowered one as he knew she would.

A wedding under the rain. A wedding with people holding umbrellas, unexpectedly romantic. With the garden now puddled and dirty, and the flowers adorning the aisle falling down. A mess.

Like Emma and Harry.

A perfect mess.

And that’s all y/n could think about. When her eyes crossed with his, there was a pain Tom hadn’t felt in a while. So stupid to let her go, how much time had he waited to lay down and have her head upon his heart. And he wished he had had only five minutes more, he should’ve kept fighting for that smile. So close yet so far to each other.

It felt like a million years ago when they were laughing in his bed as he kept trying to guess the song she had thought of. A million years ago when they were dancing in her apartment to that song, from that one movie. With Tom Cruise… Top Gun? No. Mission Impossible? No. Jerry McGuire? No, no. Why was she thinking about Tom Cruise?

Why was Tom Cruise the one thing not leaving her mind? The one distraction y/n had to forget about the other Tom.

A scene from both of them was playing in his eyes, y/n could see, and although it was Emma who would be walking down the aisle as the gentle notes played behind, Tom was the one falling in love all over again. With y/n placing a vinyl on his record player while he wrapped his arms around her. Cooking in his kitchen, barefoot running around his place. Bubble baths that lasted until the water was cold. Laughs merging into one. Picnics at midnight, with cold pancakes or waffles they could a goose from, driving around the city when everyone was quiet and the only whispers they could hear were hers. Waking up by her side, and her asking for five more minutes to dream of that far away land. Even the fights, with both of them being irrational only to end with him pulling her from her waist to kiss her, making it all better. Polaroids and flowers. Polaroids of flowers.

Y/N felt something too, and she didn’t understand what it was. Risky Business. That’s the movie. When Tom Cruise dances.

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Tom either as their own film full all flowers played in the background.

And though they both turned their eyes to Emma about to walk in, time had stopped for the both of them.

How had they not fought against the odds? For that one film they wanted.

And though the film had ended up multiple times, they wanted to play it again.

And it was a reminder, as everyone stood up as Emma was about to walk in, with her blue umbrella. With her impeccable makeup and her perfect hair.

A wedding under the rain.

Y/N and Tom decided to break their stare and look at Harry, whose breath was taken away when he saw her, his one and only Emma, under the rain and against all odds about to walk to him.

Y/n could see it in his eyes, how he had never wanted to escape, not really. What he’s done today was an act of pure courage, to get out of everyone’s talk and to get his own thoughts straight. Harry had escaped to tell himself that he was indeed in love with Emma, not that he needed a reminder of it, but as in an assurance. That’s why he’d gone to the park, his very first date with Emma had been there, and to that cage where they had shared a kiss, and though he had claimed to forget it, he’d gone to the place where he’d bought a raincoat for Emma that one time.

Harry had searched for Emma and he had found her, and she was right in front of him. Harry had searched for Emma his whole life and she was right there.

Emma took a deep breath and smiled, giving a smile that only Harry knew. A smile that Harry owned.

Gently, but suddenly abruptly at the same time, Emma decided to let the umbrella fall down to her side so the rain would cover her.

Harry, at first, was intrigued and scared and confused.

Emma gave him another reassuring smile as she took off her shoes, knowing they’d get dirty anyway.

Harry then, dropped the umbrella as well, ignoring everyone’s looks as Emma proceeded to walk under the rain. Or… run to him.

A wedding under the rain. A wedding that was clearly not supposed to happen, yet, it did, with the bride’s makeup getting messed up and the groom’s suit getting soaked.

Against each and every odd, Emma ran to Harry who was at the end of the aisle waiting for her to jump into his arms.

It was bittersweet for Tom and y/n, with their sight not leaving each other. Tom could’ve sworn he saw a single tear fall down her cheek.

As Emma and Harry stumbled down and then back again.

The ceremony was magical, with people forgetting the rain was falling down.

Harry and Emma were claiming their vows but Tom and y/n were still in their own world. Rude, probably, but they just couldn’t look away.

“And I promise that I’ll keep getting umbrellas when the rain falls down,” Harry had said in his vows.

“And I promise that against all odds, I will keep walking under the rain for you.” Emma had said in hers.

Y/N looked sad, her eyes set on Tom as if asking him to get umbrellas so she could walk under the rain for him. And with a single look, Tom made her see, he would, either get umbrellas or walk under the rain if he was given one more chance.

And for a minimal moment they both felt perennial, everlasting, with a single hope to bloom again once more.

But then again, this wasn’t their moment and the wedding had to go on.

Luckily, the reception was under a roof.

Y/N had decided to sit with Tom a long time ago, when helping Emma with the sitting arrangement. ‘I want to sit with him, we are friends’.

But Emma had told her that she’d be having another seat, with friends of theirs from college. A table where Tim and Lily would be sitting at.

Y/N had known she’d end up with Tom, although for a month she had felt she wouldn’t.

There was, however, no trace of the avoiding Tom right now. He’d offered her his jacket as she had walked in with him, her hand locked in his arm.

A few laughs had been shared. The table consisted of James, Clark, Haz and Tuwaine and their girlfriends, Tom and her.

It was obvious that Tom and her were distinctively different. Whispering to each other, giggling with inside jokes.

The conversation had been about Emma only, and how lovely she looked and how incredible it was what she did. How romantic it was, to walk under the rain for the love of your life.

The newlyweds had walked in. Love was in the air, and there were no other two souls in the world more perfect for each other than Harry and Emma. Their smiles were a reflection of the other’s happiness. They both knew that loving each other would be the easiest thing in the world. That no matter how many mountains they had to climb, they still had each other.

Harry and Emma didn’t have to worry about someone ignoring them again, two wild flowers who found themselves.

Their first dance was as lovely as it could be and the wedding continued to go smoothly. One of those cliché things could’ve happened, when Tom would only stare at y/n while she didn’t notice, instead they’d given each other one smile tha said: ‘Not right now’.

They’d both wanted to hold on, but not too tight.

The wedding continued, as it usually does. Because why would time ever stop for them? It hadn’t before. And it wouldn’t today.

“Hey, everyone, I’m y/n.” That’s how y/n’s maid of honor speech started. With a few anecdotes for her two best friends. Fun stories first. Tom listened and laughed even when she made of of the first engagement party.

“I think, you know, that’s their magic, even after our celebrity friend over here—well we know what happened. I think that’s truly their magic, how they’re able to fight against each and every storm, because they fight against it together,” y/n said. “ I always thought you both had it easy, how things just simply happened to you. How I always thought the universe plotted for you…How you both had magic on your side. But today, I realized, it hasn’t. Today, you taught me how you’ve been fighting against each odd, you know? Just defeat the storm, because that’s your magic, you guys don’t need the rainbow or the sunshine above. It’s—you guys, you who can walk under a rainstorm and find happiness under it because you’re together. You, who will go to the other side of the city to find an umbrella to match the wedding theme. And I really admire that. And neither of you take it for granted. Because the both of you know how incredible you both are, and I’m—I am happy to be the one who can take the credit for introducing you both to each other. You guys owe me,” she chuckled and smiled.

She took a deep breath. “you both know what’s it like. And I know, I know I always make everything about flowers, or films or— but I just think you guys are flowers,” y/n smiled at them. “ You see, while I worked at the shop I learned about these kinds of flowers. Everything about them. How they hold meaning to each other, and sometimes without knowing it, we tell a story with flowers. I remember Harry always gave you daisies, Emma. Daisy flowers symbolize new beginnings and rebirth, in addition to love, and and—cheerfulness, and beauty, purity, innocence, hope, fun, and affection… and I think that’s the magic of you. Your innocence and beauty and how you are reborn each time.”

Emma and Harry snuggled against each other.

“There are—several kinds of flowers. Perennials, and annuals. Annuals simply bloom once and you have to replant them, and most relationships are meant to be like that. Just once… while perennials, they are— they bloom each spring. Everlasting. And they—Against all odds, after a hard cold winter season they bloom again. So I think you guys are perennial flowers, who found each other, and against all odds, keep blooming. So here’s to Harry, and Emma—our perennial flowers who will keep blooming against each and every odd as they showed us they can today.”

Another few other speeches, Tom wouldn’t forget what she had said, against all odds.

“Here you go,” Tom said sitting beside y/n and offering her her glass after they’d both come back from dancing along with a group and came back to catch their breath.

She looked up with a tender smile. “Thank you.”

Tom took a deep breath watching her, wondering if he was supposed to ask about it, what they’d both felt during the ceremony.

Tom cleared his throat instead, “So, who do you fancy?”

“Hm?” Y/N looked up from her drink.

“I’m your wingman for the night, remember?”

“Ah, right.” She gave a look around the place, and landed her eyes back on him. “No one really has caught my eye.”

Tom reached out to fix a lost strand of hair, making her blush. “Why not?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Dunno.”

Tom tried ignoring it, looking away. He hadn’t noticed how close their hands were on the table, barely half an inch close. His sigh was too focused on the crowd. “How about Haz? Tuwaine?” He mentioned, turning back to his table as his friends were currently laughing at something.

Y/N nudged him, rolling her eyes. “Lovely idea, my ex's best friends! Who both have dates.”

Tom grinned at her. “They’re handsome.”

“They are,” she turned to see them. “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Tom hummed and turned around back to the crowds, she approached her chair.

“Oh my God, that girl is trying to hit on Clark,” y/n whispered to his ear.

Tom followed her gaze and snorted. “Man is wearing that and she thinks he’s straight?” His laugh was meant for her to hear only. “Five bucks that James will go and take away his husband,” Tom mumbled.

“Oh, no, I’m not betting.”

“Why not?” Tom frowned, looking back at her.

“Because—“She tilted her head back to the scene as James had come to wrap an arm around his husband. “James can’t stand the idea that Clark is undoubtedly the most handsome man here.”

Tom side glanced, “Really?”

“One hundredth percent, yes,” she snickered as she watched him, her eyes sparkled watching him. “Too bad he’s gay, and not bi, I would’ve already tried stealing him from James if it wasn’t for that.”

Tom grimaced, “uh-huh.”

“Yeah,” she teased, subtly resting her hand on his shoulder. “I would’ve asked for your help. ”

Tom without thinking about it, reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. He knew what it meant. But was it only the wedding or were they really ready?

“My help?”

“Yes, You know a thing or two about stealing your siblings love interest,” she smirked.

Tom opened his mouth in shock, “you’re fucking done.”

She slightly pushed him away. “Am I wrong?”

This felt like love, laughing with her. He leaned slightly, jokingly frowning and letting go of her hand. “You’re being really rude to your wingman. I’m not helping you anymore.”

She leaned over, wrapping her arms around him, “please, no, help me out.”

Tom made the mistake of looking into her eyes, quickly trying to get away from her.

“Hm let’s see who else, uh I see Ben over there, you see him?” he pointed at a close friend of theirs. “Ben is that handsome guy, he is a business man now, very important, want me to introduce you?”

Y/N laughed. “I know Ben,” she clarified. “you do realize I know most people here, right? Especially Ben, I’ve seen Ben try to open a beer bottle with his teeth•

“And you don’t find that attractive?” Tom teased.

She sighed. “I do, but i think he’s way out of my league because of that.”

Tom slapped his knee, “Yes he definitely is, he really is a catch,” he laughed. “But okay give me something to work here.”

“I…” She scrunched her nose. “I…sorry, I—guess I haven’t moved on from my previous love interest.”

Tom cleared his throat. He started to sweat.

“How can I?” She continued. “I mean look at her,” she pointed at Emma. “I despise your brother for stealing her from me. I should be the one marrying her, she’s stunning

Tom forced a laugh. “Ah, yes.”

“So sad, but I guess I can live with it,” Y/N said.

Tom followed her gaze, Harry and Emma giggling against each other, with Harry covering her with a blanket. Both of them with their hair messed up from the rain still, poking their wedding cake and poking each other.

Tom groaned. “They are disgustingly adorable.”

Y/N laughed. “Truly, their love is an aberration from its cuteness,” she faked disgust.

“The way they look at each other, truly an offence.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“They really don’t care about the world around them,” Tom pointed out and turned back to y/n, now her gaze away from them.

“They don’t have to, they’re soulmates,” she reminded him with a smile.

“I thought you didn’t believe in those,” Tom pointed out.

She took a deep breath. “I do, I don’t, I…I dunno, but they’re the closest thing to it, just the way that they grew past the storm, they literally….” She threw her hands in the air. “They literally walked under a storm to marry each other and they….” As if she was still trying to believe it. “and how even if her flowers were ruined or her dress… and everything… she didn’t mind because he was there, you know? That’s romance.”

Tom smiled. “It really is, let’s find you that.”

Y/N was shocked. “Hm?”

“I’m your wingman,” he reminded her. “Let’s get you a date.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing desperately. “Why are you so desperate to find me a date?”

Tom shrugged. “I want that for you, whatever Harry and Emma have.”

She licked her lips watching the couple drunkenly head to the dancefloor. “I used to have it.”

Tom looked up. “Right, with Emma.”

There was a knowing silence. Both of them watching people dance, people from their past, people from their present and mabe from the future.

“Hm how about Peter?” Tom asked after a while.

“Hm, Peter is cute I guess,” she agreed.

“Huh, didn’t see him as your type,” Tom frowned slightly. No, it wasn’t jealousy. Or was it? Could he really be hurt about a stupid comment from a girl he’d been broken up with for a year now. It was stupid.

“He’s not but that’s worked out before,” she chuckled.

Tom pursed his lips and then smirked. “Or… That guy over there, he’s my Uncle Paul, he is very fun, he actually loves the same music as you do, no surprise since he lived in that era, he is a fan of strawberry muffins and-”

“And old.”

“Ah, what’s 60 years of difference, it’s nothing these days, y/n.”

“What’s his sign, then?” She asked.

“A capricorn, see? He is a catch y/n, I could set you up,” Tom smirked.

She laughed. “No, as big of a catch he is I think his wife would be bothered by it.”

“Psh, I’m sure my aunt Petunia wouldn’t mind,” Tom said, laughing. “No, no, come on, I’ll get you and Peter talking but first, let’s dance.”

Tom did what any insane ex boyfriend would do and with all the pain in his heart. He danced with her. And there was that feeling again, as they both approached each other, when his head rested on her shoulder as they swayed around.

“I really liked your speech,” Tom said.

“It was improv,” she confessed. “I liked yours better, had more comedy to it.”

He held her close. “You really admire that from them, huh?”

“Jealous of how they managed to get through it? Yes. I’m jealous, honestly. How they didn’t give up.”

Tom sighed. “They did, at some point.”

“I guess, but not this—, you know?”

“Yeah, but they’re them.”

“And we’re us.”

Tim watched Tom and y/n from a distance. Tim had gotten his own closure.

It seemed that Tom didn’t and Tim was perfectly aware of it. It was sad.

Very sad to see how the guy had blew it up. Bad kept blowing it up.

They were yearning for each other. Dancing, laughing at first, more serious now. Tom swirling her around, letting her head fall down with grace, debuting their own kind of silly dances. Y/N laughing and looking into his eyes.

And Tim could tell y/n missed him. She had confessed it to Tim, how she was scared that she’d blown up every significant relationship she’d ever had when it came to the point of getting somewhere. How she had pushed everyone she loved away.

Y/N had those kind of eyes that Tim knew. Y/N was begging to be loved. How stupid of Tom, Timothee thought, to have someone like her beg for his love.

And he could see it from there, how she was holding on to Tom as if she never wanted to let him go.

Yet she did, and Tom, stupidly had introduced her to Peter, one of Tom’s friends. Tim could tell that neither Tom nor y/n wanted this.

But there he went, Tom had so easily handed y/n to Peter, as if trying to make Peter get y/n out of his mind.

Tim watched Tom. Wondering if Tom would find his Lily, too. Or if y/n was supposed to be his endgame.

Tim disagreed with Tom, mostly because he hadn’t fought for y/n this last time. Tim knew they’d simply just… broken up. But it had come way before that. Tim had slowly seen both of them give up. It was sad to see them both run out of excuses.

Tim thought initially y/n was tired from dragging her problems, and although they’d promised to take about it, they both ended up ignoring them.

Though, Tim did see how their friendship worked. And it was a true friendship, even if they both had to look away and take a deep breath each time they walked into the room.

Tim knew that they’d solved all their “marital” problems when apart. They’d talked about it, because they didn’t have the pressure of the relationship.

And so it was formed, and although y/n had always claimed she was happy, it had been the night before when y/n had drunkenly knocked on his door to tell how much she missed Tom as something else.

How tired was she of giving him signals and him ignoring them, or avoiding them. That she knew they were friends, but that she was still deeply and even more now insanely in love with him.

Tim knew Tom was too, but Tom was an idiot.

Tom’s eyes were glued on the dancing y/n. Peter and her swirling on the dance floor as she would only smile. Tom didn’t look away, he wasn’t jealous. One, because he couldn’t be, she was just a friend enjoying herself and two, because he knew he had nothing to worry about. Peter and her were only dancing.

But Tom felt wrong. He really missed dancing with her. Really dancing and having it mean something. Because now whatever they did didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t. But Tom smiled, his eyes beaming as he saw her, as usual, with a dress that may have been chosen by Emma but she’d made hers.

Tom didn’t miss, however, that feeling that anyone in the room was looking at her and feeling like someone could steal her, so easily. Tom’s infatuation had led him to always anticipate how he’d feel when she’d walk in, blushing, flushed. He had become familiar with it, hiding his emotions. He was really good at hiding, no matter if his anticipation was far from it. Just when he thought he’d control himself, he’d always be stung. How incredible it was, how someone like her still had him wrapped around her finger. Someone so different from him, with her flowers and vinyls and her aesthetic, and her wild mind, always running away from him.

He knew she had dated, but he didn’t want to know who and he didn’t care. He wondered if she’d felt the same way, like no one could ever make her feel the way he could. Because he believed that, no one would ever make him feel the way she did. Good and bad. As if emotions were just dialed up. And that now that he knew her, he didn’t need to know anyone else. Learning about anyone else wasn’t as exciting.

Tom had once thought about it, having her for one weekend. He wished he could come back just for a weekend, to have her smile and know he was the reason for it. He knew he eventually would break down for it, all roads eventually lead to her. Maybe he could tell her that he still felt the same for her, did she feel the same? To think they once owned the world. Maybe asking to rule the world was too much.

And he didn’t want a weekend as a one night stand, but he wished for a weekend, only a weekend would suffice. But would it?

He had to behave now. They weren’t alone anymore.

Tom then feared as he saw y/n throwing her head back laughing. He feared Peter would find out how amazing y/n was. He feared y/n would find out that she could laugh with other people too.

Tom had to stand up, to get a drink if he was going to keep dealing with this. He didn’t wait for someone to come ask him, he headed to the bar directly. Gin and tonic, just to pity himself and his lack of courage.

“You’re an idiot,” someone had said behind Tom.

Tom, taking the first sip of his drink and trying not to choke turned to face Timothee. “I thought we were past our discourtesy.”

Tim shook his head, “We are, I’m telling you as a friend or… whatever we are.”

Tom shrugged, “Acquaintances.”

Tim tilted his head, ordering a drink, “Fair enough.”

“Or members of the same club,” Tom nodded.

Tim chuckled, “It hurts, doesn’t it.”

Tom took a deep breath, watching her. “Yeah, a bit,” he lied. “But I’m happy with…. Our friendship.”

Tom downed his drink and ordered another one.

“Careful,” Tim warned, “we both know what alcohol and an Emma and Harry party do to you.”

Tom laughed. “I already gave my speech so we need not to worry.”

They remained quiet, Tom still watching y/n.

Tim shook his head. “I’ll never understand what went wrong with both of you.”

“Too much history can kill you,” Tom shrugged.

“No,” Tim said simply. “I think you’re just an idiot.”

“That I am,” Tom agreed.

“I’ve kept seeing you both, she is hinting it and you back away.”

Tom coughed. “We are friends.”

“Yeah, keep believing that bullshit.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “We, on the other hand, are not, Timmy.”

Tim grinned. “Do you still love her?”

“She’s my friend.”

Tim pointed his drink at Tom. “I didn’t ask that.” “I—“

“Do you?”

Tom was in the spotlight, but now the drink on his hand was speaking for him. “Well yes I do love her I just—I tried okay? Moving on and I thought I’d magically wake up one day and I wouldn’t love her anymore but—“

“That shit doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, that shit doesn’t happen,” Tom agreed..lAnd I don’t want to be this miserable idiot that wakes up everyday waiting for her—“

Tim shrugged. “I was that idiot for a while.”

“How the fuck did you do it?” Tom questioned. “Because I can’t—it hurts so fucking much.”

“I never stopped trying,” Tim said. “You did.”

“And where did that lead you?” Tom rolled his eyes.

Timothee smiled, genuinely. “I met Lily. It seems like y/n has this magic of introducing you to the love of your life. She did with me, with Harry, and Emma of course, I think even with Sam, right?”

“So I have to make her introduce me to someone else.”

“No, no, that would be very fucking stupid from you,” Tim snapped.

“Then what?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Tim begged Tom. “Can’t you see it? She never fought for me, or for Harry. Yet she fought for you, and you should fight for her, you are meant for each other.”

Tom sighed. “No. She doesn’t want that.”

Tim watch with irony and not believing what he was hearing. “You kidding, right?”

“I would love that,” Tom was exasperated by him. “But what I would love right now is to move on, how did you?”

“She loves you, that’s how I moved on, she loves you. And she will never fucking stop loving you.”

Tom sighed. “She deserves better. Someone who hasn’t hurt her—someone like Peter.”

“Maybe, but she wants you,” Tim was as stressed now. “And you’re so stupid because you want her, too. Love is not about fucking deserving, it’s about being fucking brave. You’ve lost her before. You’ve always acted like it’s your last chance and life keeps pulling you back together as if you had fucking magnets for each other, for once let it pull you and don’t fuck it up..”

“How do you know she wants me?”

Tim was strong and he thanked he was strong because otherwise he would’ve murdered the man standing in front of him.

He took a deep breath. “She told me just last night, how she can’t deal with it anymore how she wants to risk a goodbye just to get close to you.”

Tom only sighed.

“I’m serious, man. Really think about it,” Tim warned him. “I only moved on because I knew she’d be the happiest with you. And I had to live with it, and— then it grew into me, and I swear, it was… easy, because I could tell she was happy with you. And she truly was her best when she was with you. And—then.”

“I didn’t blow it up, not—by myself, at least….it was a mutual breakup, you know? And neither of us wanted it, not really.”

“Perhaps not. But you’re blowing it up right now, so I would go for her—“Tim stopped himself. “Oh but , word of advice,” Tim said just as he was about to go. “It’s y/n we are talking about, don’t just get drunk and sleep with her after you tell how you feel about her.

“Ah, there goes my plan,” Tom rolled his eyes.

“No, just—do whatever you do that charms her, as usual.”

It felt like the one thing Tom needed to hear. It was as if Tim was giving him his blessing. Not that Tom needed it but it was nice to have. He new he had his blessing from everyone.

And he kept watching y/n dance from a distance, he smiled watching her struggling with Peter and his tremendous dance moves.

Tom at that moment decided something. He loved seeing y/n happy and she seemed to be happy at that precise moment.

Y/N on the other hand had decided things for herself. She had changed throughout these years and she still wondered if she’d donde the right thing. One doesn’t suddentl fall for their enemy one night because they weren’t really the enemy.

Dancing that night y/n realized he never truly was an enemy, an enemy is usually a stranger and he’d never been one to her heart.

She did regret they couldn’t dance as much as she wanted to but she didn’t regret that night either.

It was funny how everything was setting in front of them, like an old dvd or a on journal or a worn out script.

That one night after the wedding, they had ended up together, but not in the sense that one would have thought they would.

They spent the night laughing with each other, bringing out an old script and scratching things and rewriting. Going through the very journal Tom had found in his drawer and realizing that they were neither the script with ugly undertones or the journal with a pink gaze.

Their love wasn’t like Harry’s umbrellas and their love wasn’t like Emma’s brave act. Their love wasn’t Tim’s film canister or Cherry’s flowers.

Their love was theirs and though they were not seeing it that night, they both knew they owned it.

“What is love to you?” Tom had asked. “I think Harry and Emma made me doubt my meaning of it.”

“They know what it is.”

“So what is love to you?” He asked again.

“When?” She asked.

“When?”

“What love is depends on when,” y/n explained. “Love can be anything. It could be a rose in Rome, a stolen peony in New York or a meaningful yellow daffodil in Los Angeles.”

“Flowers then.” Tom laughed.

“It can also be a ballerina necklace, or a fight, or depends on the time.”

“Well—“

“It can also be my favorite film, you know? Dirty Dancing, or it can be dancing for your movie. It can be red wine and homemade pasta, or it could be cold pancakes in a tree house.”

Tom just watched her.

“I think love finds its way to be, you know? Love can be walking under a storm or buying umbrellas.”

“What is love now, then?”

“I dunno, for the moment I really don’t know.”

Days went by after that one night, y/n had caught a terrible cold from the wedding.

Y/N had gone back to her apartment and the sun was bursting through the curtains on that one very day. She’d opened the window to listen to the singing birds, she could smell the rain from the day before and she was feeling better. The sun had found it’s way out.

She decided to go out, to forget the one night that had gone through her mind. She’d texted Timmy asking if she should text Tom and there was a hint of disappointment on Timmy when he’d learned Tom hadn’t called her.

Was y/n really trying to forget the night or maybe trying to remember it forever. How funny life is, isn’t it?

What was love? She had to keep thinking about it.

She bought a flower and the streets were colorless, the city was busy and everyone was just bursting and talking through their phones, but she was quiet, because she was looking at the sun. The sunflower and her were kissed by the very last ray of sunshine.

Was love this sunflower?

No, love should’ve meant staying.

She knew the sun would go away soon, it would rain again. So she’d go home and pity herself.it would be an evening when she didn’t want to go out . Cozy with that big blue sweatshirt she’s stolen from Tom from that wedding day.

Love should be kissing the night before the wedding.

She thought about binging through a netflix show as the sun would yawn.

Love should have been kissing on the cheek while zipping up a dress.

She’d lost all hope. She felt it, with that cold cup of tea in her hands, as she was staring at the window, watching as the night slowly dawns its way dark, and shed lost her hope, she didn’t know what love was.

Had she not known it her whole life? Was love… never what she thought it was?

She had popcorn microwaving, and a pot for her tea waiting. Rain was splattering against her window, a storm was only making her lose the track of thought that would lead her to know what love is.

This wasn’t love. Love would’ve meant calling. Love would've meant showing up. Love—

Her phone was ringing, and her house was chaos. Adding to it, the thunders clapped. The movie was playing and everything, everything was going crazy.

Someone rang the door, probably the pizza, but the chaos was too loud. She could keep up with it. She needed the answer to her question first. What was love?

And the phone kept ringing, and the pot was whistling now, and the thunder kept clapping.

Was love calling?

She needed the answer, what was love? Was it flowers and Polaroids? Was it sleepless nights in New York and fights in LA? Was it walking under the rain in London?

But suddenly, as she found herself opening the door. She knew it, she’d always know what love was.

And love was soaking and shaking from the rain holding a soaked yellow sunflower flower with a soaked shoe box that once meant love.

Love had a promise to be perennial, everlasting and bloom against the odds.

And she knew the answer then…

Love was… them.

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moebiusstrip · 3 months

Text

Sunday, January 28th, 2024

I know more stuff happened before, but I can’t remember well.

The weather was weird. The sun was out, but I could hear thunder, and I could see lightning in the distance, and the wind started blowing really hard.

I was walking in a really open area, very small buildings around at a distance. It was like a university campus, but there were no trees, and I was heading toward the underground station. I was carrying things in my arms, but I also had an open umbrella, even though it wasn’t raining. I guess I thought it might start raining any moment, despite the sun, and the strong wind threatened to bust my umbrella or yank it out of my hands.

I crouched as low as I could, without dropping anything, just so that the next gust of wind wouldn’t ruing my umbrella, then continued walking. I was wearing new shoes and a skirt, which somehow didn’t blow up in the wind, and I could see my new shoes as I hopped from one stepping stone to the next. There was a a sort of roundabout that I was walking toward, with the paths toward it made out of stepping stones, and then you’d walk into a sort of maze that would wind down into the underground area. I hurried so that I could close the umbrella.

Once I was underground, it was like going into a cave, with stalagmites and stalagtites, and you had to walk carefully around the stalagmites, to get to the actual station. It was wet and dark, and you could hear water dripping, but once you made it past that, you came to an actual proper train station platform with tiled floors and walls, and lights and a train whizzed past the station as I walked on the platform. There were other people there.

The train arrived and I got on, and it wasn’t overly crowded. There was a huge TV screen in one corner of the carriage. Two girls sat at either side of me, one blond and one Asian, and they were quite young, they looked like students. They were dressed pretty similarly. They were together, so I didn’t understand why they sat with me in the middle, instead of sitting next to each other, or asking me to move. There were enough seats. We all watched the screen as the train started to move, and it was playing a documentary, and I tried to hide my excitement when I realized it was a documentary about Omar Rudberg.

Across from me sat a large young guy with long hair and a beard, and he was saying that nobody cared about that guy (Omar), but I looked at him like he was crazy and just watched the documentary. Then I realized it was just like a short clip from it, and then some commercial started playing so I stopped watching the TV and watched the scenery as it passed. Then I realized that the girls were playing footsies with each other, but like in front of me. And I asked them in English if they wanted me to switch with one of them. They both said no, and laughed, and apologized, but then they did it again. Instead of offering this time, I said ‘please let’s switch’, and the Asian girl stood up and said ‘okay’ whilst laughing. I slid over to her seat and she sat on my seat now. I realized that she had a raincoat that she had put beside her on the seat, and she hadn’t taken it, so I grabbed it and handed it to her. When I touched it, I could really feel the texture of the fabric, and I hadn’t felt anything so realistic until then before, so for a moment I wondered if this was a dream at all, and wondered aloud where in the world I was.

And that’s when I woke up.

#dreams #dream meanings #dream interpretation

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Overprotective (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: This was a request from an anon who wanted overprotective Jay and Will and angst and fluff! So, I hope I did your request justice!

Thanks for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments because they put a smile on my face!

Thunderstorm (age 7)

It had been six months since your mom died. Jay was back from his second deployment and was now a police officer and Will was in New York for what you called doctor school. And your dad, well he was here in Chicago with you physically, but not mentally.

You whimpered as you hugged your teddy bear--whom you had affectionately named Officer Chuckles after you heard someone call Jay that at a picnic for police and their families--tight to your chest. The thunder was really loud and you swore it was shaking the house. And, to make matters worse, your dad wasn't here; he had left his seven-year-old daughter alone at home, during a thunderstorm, at 11:30 at night.

Your mom had loved thunderstorms and she'd always watch them as they rolled in. If it was morning, she'd sit and drink her coffee on the front porch while she watched them and listened to the rain drum down on the roof. If it was nighttime, she'd have something called wine, which she told you that you couldn't have until you were older, and do the same thing.

Because of this, every time there was a thunderstorm and your dad wasn't working, he'd always go to the cemetery to visit your mom. You didn't know what he did there. You just knew that every time there was a thunderstorm, you'd just be that much more scared.

Your mom used to comfort you when there was a thunderstorm; she'd tell you that the thunder was just a giant up in the sky bowling and that he just got a strike. But, your dad wouldn't really comfort you because he'd just leave. And, there was only so much Officer Chuckles and huddling in your blankets could do for you.

"We gotta call Jay," you whispered to your bear. "He'll know what to do."

So, you gripped Officer Chuckles in your little hand and then made your way into the kitchen. You jumped as more lightning and thunder cracked across the sky.

You flicked on the light and picked up the phone. You looked at the number on the fridge and carefully dialed it and then hit the "talk" button. Then, you listened to it ring while little whimpers of fear escaped your mouth.

"Dad? Why are you--" You jumped and a small scream came out. "Y/N? Kiddo, what are you doing up? It's late."

"I- I'm scared," you said quickly and ran back to your room with Officer Chuckles and the phone still in your hand and pressed up to your ear.

"Because of the thunder?" Jay asked gently.

"Uh-huh," you answered as you buried yourself back under your covers. "Daddy's not here and-and it's really loud."

"Dad's not there?"

"He went to see Mommy." You squeaked as more thunder came.

Jay cursed on the other end of the phone and hoped you didn't pick up on it. "Y/N, I will be there in ten minutes, okay? I just want you to stay in your room until I get there. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh-huh. But please come fast, Jay Jay. Me and Officer Chuckles are really scared."

"I'll come really, really fast. I promise. Now, I have to put down the phone so I can drive. But I promise I'll get there really fast. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jay Jay."

***

Jay cursed himself as he drove as fast as he could towards his childhood home. He didn't even speed, just tried to go the speed limit. But, it was downpouring so hard that he had to slow down so that he didn't hydroplane and get into a car accident. He didn't need that right now and you definitely didn't need that right now.

Jay walked up the front porch--forgetting his umbrella in his car because he was so focused on getting to you--and then found the spare key under the flower pot. The flower was fake; there's no way your dad could keep a plant alive.

"Y/N?" he called out as he slipped off his shoes once he was inside. "It's me. It's Jay Jay."

Thunder cracked across the sky and Jay swore under his breath and then took off running to your bedroom.

There, he found you huddled underneath your comforter clutching Officer Chuckles to your chest and resting your head against him. Your small night light was the only thing giving off light in your room.

"Y/N," he whispered, causing you to jump. "It's okay, it's just me. It's Jay," he said quickly and then flicked on your bedroom light.

Now that everything was bathed in light, you jumped out of bed without hesitating and held tightly onto Jay. "It's too loud! It's too loud!" you wailed as your fingers clutched the bottom of his shirt.

"I know, I know," he soothed and gently rubbed your back while you continued to cry. "But remember what Mom said? It's just a giant up in the sky bowling."

"Well, he needs to play a quieter game."

Jay laughed at that. "I mean, we could try to tell him that, but I don't think he'd listen since he's way bigger than us." You nodded in agreement. Jay crouched down in front of you, seeing as you had finally let go of him. "Y/N, can you grab me your most favorite backpack?"

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "It's nighttime, not school time."

Jay smiled at your innocence. "I know. But, you're gonna come over to my house and we're gonna have a sleepover."

"Like we do on some weekends?"

"Just like that."

More thunder.

You grabbed onto Jay's hand. "You come with me to get my backpack in the living room?"

Jay nodded. "Of course."

Once you were back in your room, Jay started grabbing some clothes for you and you grabbed your favorite blanket and Officer Chuckles. Then, something dawned on you. You were always supposed to tell your daddy if you went somewhere.

"Will Daddy be mad?"

Jay turned away from your dresser and to look at you. "Why would he be mad, kiddo?"

"Because I'm not- I'm not telling him I'm having a sleepover with you."

"Oh, he knows."

"You talked to him?"

"I called him on the way here." Well, he sent him a strongly worded text message, but that was basically the same thing. All he needed to know was that you were coming to his house since you were scared of the storm (not to mention you were seven years old and you shouldn't be home alone in the first place). He hadn't answered the text yet, but at least he'd know where you were.

"Okay. Will you come with me to get my raincoat, too?"

Jay had just finished putting the last of a pair of clothes in your backpack. "I think we can grab that on our way out. Good thinking, kiddo."

He shouldered your little backpack and took your blanket from you so that it wouldn't drag on the wet ground when you walked outside. Then, you put on your rain boots and raincoat at the front door and clutched Officer Chuckles super tight and walked out to Jay's car, and started on your way to his apartment.

***

"Hold my hand when we walk through the parking lot, okay?" Jay said as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building.

"Okay."

He put the car in park and then turned it off and got out, quickly opening an umbrella he had stashed in his passenger seat. Then, he made his way over to your side of the car and helped you out and grabbed your backpack, and slung your blanket over his shoulders. You held tight to Officer Chuckles with one hand and held Jay's hand with the other while you two walked into his apartment building, the umbrella Jay was holding with his opposite hand shielding you from the rain.

Once you were inside, you handed Jay your raincoat and he hung it up on the rack because you couldn't reach it.

Jay started digging around in your backpack for the spare pair of pajamas that he had packed for you. "Okay, Y/N, why don't you go put on these nice comfy pajamas--"

"Because mine are kinda wet?" you asked and looked up at your big brother.

"Yes, because yours are kind of wet," Jay confirmed. "And then after, we can go to sleep, okay?"

Thunder cracked again and you jumped.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jay said and crouched down in front of you. "I promise you nothing bad will happen."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he confirmed with a nod of his head.

You turned to go change your clothes, and then remembered something. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course."

After you changed into dry pajamas, you put your dirty ones in your backpack and left the bathroom to see Jay sitting on the couch waiting for you. "Ready for bed?" he asked.

You yawned. "Uh-huh."

Jay glanced at the clock. It was nearing 12:30 am. There was no way you were going to go to school after six and a half hours of sleep. So, he had a plan. And that plan involved iHOP.

Once you got into bed, you tried to fall asleep, but you couldn't. Jay noticed this when you jumped at the thunder. So, he grabbed your little hand in his and squeezed. You then moved closer to him and buried your head in his chest. You knew you were safe from the thunder because your big brother was around and he was big and strong and would protect you from anything. So, you soon fell asleep after, ending your very long night.

***

You rubbed your eyes as you walked out of Jay's bedroom the next morning, Officer Chuckles in your hand dangling by your side.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Jay said.

You looked at the clock. 8:30. "Don't I gotta be at school?" you asked, scrunching up your eyebrows which Jay thought was the cutest thing ever.

"Not until after lunchtime," he told you. "You were up really late, so I wanted to let you sleep. And, so we can go out for breakfast."

"Really? Where?" you asked excitedly, almost dropping Officer Chuckles because you were absolutely buzzing with excitement.

"That is a surprise. Now, how about you go get dressed and brush your teeth and brush your hair, and then we can get going, okay?"

"Okay!"

Then, you scampered off and did just what Jay told you to do. You wanted to know what the surprise would be!

Once you were all done, you and Jay left, and on the ride to the place where you were going for breakfast, you kept asking where you'd be going. But, Jay just wouldn't let up. But, then you saw the big blue sign and knew exactly where you were headed.

"iHOP!" you exclaimed. "Smiley pancakes! Smiley pancakes!" You looked at Jay as he turned into the parking lot. "Can I get the smiley face pancakes? Please, Jay Jay?"

Jay smiled at your excitement. "Yes, you can get the smiley face pancakes."

"Yay!" you cheered.

After breakfast and going back to his apartment to get your school stuff that he had packed in your backpack last night, Jay brought you to school.

When he got back to his apartment, he started making phone calls and cashing in favors.

A month and a half later, Jay officially had guardianship of you.

***

Beach fight (age 14)

"It's so hot," you whined as you walked out of your room in the middle of summer and into the kitchen. You looked at Jay who was drinking coffee out of a mug. "I don't get how you can drink hot coffee. It's too hot out for that."

"You--" Jay took a sip of his coffee.--"are such a drama queen."

"But I'm a queen, so I'll take it."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Wonder where you got the quick comebacks from."

"Just a tall, red-headed doctor. Definitely not you."

"You're funny, kid. Real funny." Jay's phone buzzed. He furrowed his eyebrows. Then it buzzed again and he made eye contact with you and tilted his head to the side. "You texted Will about a beach day? And said that I said it was okay?"

"Uh-huh. You aren't the only Halstead sibling who can be sneaky you know."

"Normally, normally I'd be pissed. But, it's scorching out. So I'll give him a call. Go start getting ready and wear your swimsuit under your clothes so we don't have to change there."

"Yes! Thank you, Jay! Love you!" You gave him a quick hug.

"Yeah, yeah. You never love me more than when you get your way."

Then, you went off to your room to get changed.

***

"Will said he'd be right here," Jay muttered as he looked at his phone for the millionth time in ten minutes. Will and Jay had set up a spot to meet, but Will was running late.

Then, Will's familiar car pulled in and he parked. "Sorry I'm late," he started as he stepped out. "Had to pick up some groceries." He held up the six-pack of beer. "Can't have a beach day without alcohol."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Uh, yes, you can. And both of us are driving home." He turned to you. "Y/N, you're gonna have to make sure each of us only drinks two. I should be fine, but I don't know about him here."

"Hey!" Will exclaimed and then smacked Jay upside the head with his free hand.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your beach chair and your drawstring bag with your towel and your book from Jay's truck. Jay grabbed the cooler, his bag, and his chair. Will grabbed his stuff and then the three of you were off.

***

You had waded in the water and read your book for a bit while Will and Jay chatted about some mutual cases they had come across while drinking their beer and eating snacks. You were snacking on your cheddar popcorn, (which Will had affectionately picked up a bag for you when he went to get beer because he knew it was your favorite) when you realized something: the boys had a drink other than water but you didn't.

You debated which brother would allow you to buy something from the coffee cart up by the entrance to the beach.

Will won.

"Will," you said sweetly and turned around to look at him.

"Uh oh," Jay said. "That's her I want something voice. Don't give in. Be strong."

Will rolled his eyes. "Yes, Y/N?"

"I was thinking--"

"It's worse than I thought!" Jay exclaimed. "She's thinking!"

You scowled at him and turned back to face Will. "I was thinking that since you two have something other than water to drink and I don't, could I maybe get something from the coffee cart? Please?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Dude! She's fourteen! She shouldn't be drinking caffeine...especially not at noon!" Jay protested.

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay."

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay," Jay mocked. "Shut up, Will."

Will rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I have to go to the bathroom, so I'll walk up with there with you and just give you money and meet you back there." He looked at Jay. "Are you okay with that? I know you hate when she's out of our sight in super crowded place like this," he asked Jay.

"I do not do that!" Jay argued. You and Will gave him a look. "Fine. Maybe I do. I just see a lot of stuff that I never want her to be involved in. Just, make sure you give Will his change back."

"I will," you said. After all, you were in a swimsuit, not that there were pockets there for you to stash your big brother's change like you normally did and then keep it for yourself.

You and Will made your way up the beach to the entrance where he handed you a ten-dollar bill and you two split up. He went straight to go to the bathrooms and you took a slight right to go to the coffee cart.

Will had said on the walk up not to wait for him and to just go back to Jay. So, you ordered your decaf iced mocha caramel latte, took the four dollars and something cents in change, got your latte, and started to walk back to Jay.

That was, you walked until you heard it.

A catcall.

You pretended you didn't hear it, that it was directed at someone else.

But then, "Babe with the coffee." You stopped walking. "I know you heard me. C'mon, show us that pretty face of yours."

Your eyes widened as you swallowed and your lip started to tremble. You knew you should just make a run for it, but you knew that in running in the sand with your hands full, that you'd just end up face planting and getting a mouth full of sand.

"Aw, c'mon baby. I've got friends, too. You don't like me, maybe you'll like them. We'll like you either way."

You wanted to smack yourself at what came out of your mouth next. You turned around. These guys were probably 23-25 year-olds and there were three of them. They were way taller than you and you knew that they'd easily be able to overpower you. But, you said the first thing that you thought would make them back off.

"I have a boy--". You cleared your throat. "I have a boyfriend."

"I don't see no boy." He turned to one of his friends. "Do you?" The other guy shook his head.

Where the fuck is Will?

"Take my money. Just, leave me alone."

You held the money out to the man, but instead of taking it, he grabbed your wrist instead. Hard.

You dropped your coffee, the plastic cup breaking in the sand and making the cold, sweet liquid form a puddle.

"How cute, boys. She's paying us, normally we'd be paying her!"

From down on the beach, Jay was watching from afar. He saw some guys walking towards you and at first, he assumed that they might've been older siblings of some kids you knew at school or something like that.

Then, he noticed your rigid posture and stood up.

He started walking toward you.

You held your hand out and the guy grabbed your wrist.

Jay started running.

"Just, let me go and we can pretend this never happened," you said, borrowing a line you had seen in movies multiple times...not that it ever worked in those, but maybe it'd work in real life.

"No can--"

"Hey!"

Oh, thank God for Jay.

"You the boyfriend?" he asked rhetorically. "She's gotta be sixteen then. How is she?"

"For your information, I'm the brother. And, it'd be in your best interest to let go," Jay growled.

"Three on one. This should be fun." The guy shrugged.

"Listen, man. I really don't feel like doing this here. So just, let her go."

He tugged you closer to him and you yelped, your front hitting his chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt arms wrap around you and pull you away from the random guy's chest and you screamed.

"You son of a bitch!" Jay yelled.

You opened your eyes to see that Will was the one who had run up and pulled you back, your heart still beating out of your chest.

"Jay, he's not--" Will tried, but it was no use.

Jay threw the first punch.

The guy's head flew back and he fell to the ground. The guy tried to throw a punch from there, but Jay easily dodged it. Then, he threw three more hits to his face.

Will turned his head away from the fight at the sound of shitty sirens. "Fucking hell, Jay! Security!"

He didn't stop.

"Jay!" you yelled.

Now, this caused him to stop for a second...right as security pulled up next to him.

Jay looked up.

"He threw the first punch!" the man yelled to security before Jay could even explain the situation in its entirety.

"And you harassed my sister, so I think me punching you was warranted!" Jay argued. He turned to security. "Jay Halstead, CPD detective with the Intelligence unit."

The two beach security guards shared a glance. One sighed. "Okay, to make this easier, we won't call the cops because apparently, he is one. But, both of you are banned from the beach."

"What?" the guy bellowed. "You're not even going to ask him for some identification? Unbelievable!"

"I can easily go grab my badge from my car, officer," Jay suggested.

"That won't be necessary," the security guard said. He turned to you. "Miss, did he hurt you in any way?" You held out your hand to show him your wrist, which was red and you knew you'd have bruising on it tomorrow. Then, he turned his attention back to the guy who had been harassing you and his two friends. "You, come with me. Unless one of your buddies wants to cop to being the one who did the harassing?"

The two other guys held up their hands in a sign of surrender and backed up.

"What?" the guy yelled. "I need medical attention! I probably need stitches!"

"And we can have someone do that for you, but you need to come with us." He pulled out a pair of zip ties and got them on the guy's wrist...not without him giving the security guards some difficulty, though. He turned his attention back to you and your brothers. "I take it back, Detective, you're not banned."

Jay gave him a curt nod of thanks.

"What?" the guy yelled as the security guard started walking, taking the creeper away from you and your brothers.

"Keep it moving, buddy. Keep it moving."

"Let's get outta here," Will suggested.

You and Jay agreed, and then the three of you went to grab your stuff from where it previously was at the beach.

***

You had ridden back home with Will instead of Jay since he needed some time to cool off...and call Voight to make sure that the asshole actually got some jail time or something. Basically, Jay needed Voight to make sure that the beach security was actually doing their job.

The two of you made your way into the apartment (Jay had given Will a key and Will had given Jay a key to his apartment also. You didn't bring your key because you thought you'd be riding home with Jay, but then everything popped off.). Then, Will immediately went into doctor mode.

"Go change into some clothes and then I'm gonna take a look at that wrist," he told you.

You nodded and quickly changed into a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt. Then, you made your way to the kitchen table where Will was waiting expectantly. You sat down a sighed.

"You okay?" Will asked as he stopped unzipping his medical bag that he always kept in his car in case of emergencies and gave you his full attention.

"That was terrifying. I just, I never would've thought that would happen."

"And it shouldn't have happened. You're fourteen; you're just a kid. It shouldn't happen to an adult, much less a kid." You nodded. "Can I see your wrist?"

You held it out to him and he gently pressed on it and began to inspect it. "You know," you started, "I thought you'd be patching up Jay. Turns out that ass- that guy's friends didn't want to get involved."

"I wouldn't either," Will agreed. "There's no way I'd want to be one the receiving end of a fistfight with Jay. And, for the record, that guy was an asshole." Then, he started talking about the subject at hand. "Well, good news is that it isn't broken...but we already knew that. Bad news is that there will be some slight bruising, so we need to ice it."

"Okay."

Will got up to get some ice from the freezer when Jay walked in...holding a bag of groceries.

"What's that?" you asked.

"Well, I figured we'd get ice cream after the beach, but since that didn't happen, I decided to pick some up." He set the bag of groceries on the table in front of you and started taking out pints of ice cream. "Superman for Will, Neopolitan for me, and cookies n creme for you."

Your eyes went wide as you saw the ice cream and quickly snatched up your pint. Jay laughed at your excitement.

"Still can't believe that Will's favorite is Superman," you mused.

"He's like a kid in an adult's body," Jay agreed.

"I heard that!" Will yelled and then came back with an ice pack and three spoons. "What can I say, I'm a sugar aficionado. Now, what movie are we watching?"

The three of you made your way over to the couch with your spoons and ice cream, you with your ice pack as well, and started to try and agree on a movie.

Sometimes, you hated that Jay was so vigilant and that Will always had to take a look at something as small as a scrape, but today, those two things definitely came in handy. And, you couldn't be more thankful.

***

Migraine (age 16)

Oh here we go again, you thought as you sat in your American history class and felt the pounding in your head coming on. You had had a slight headache this morning but had a feeling it was going to turn into something more since all of your headaches lately have been turning into migraines almost every other day for the past week. For a few weeks, you'd been having headaches and they started out not too bad, a small dose of Tylenol would fix them. You assumed they were just stress headaches from school. But, then they started making the sides of your head pound and making you sensitive to light or nauseous. And right now, you felt a really bad one coming on.

Forty-five minutes later, you had gotten out of your history class and were on your way to biology. But, you were in the midst of the worst migraine of your life. Your head was pounding, everyone seemed to be talking right in your ear, and the lights were way too bright even when you squinted.

You had to go home. You couldn't stay at school any longer.

So, you went to the office and explained this and then called Jay.

"Hello? Y/N, aren't you supposed to be in class?" he asked when he answered.

"My head hurts really bad, Jay. Please, can you come pick me up?" you asked.

"I can have someone drop off some Tylenol," he suggested.

"No," you whined. "It hurts so bad. The light hurts my head and people talking hurts my head. Please, Jay."

You were practically pleading and even though Jay knew that you had a geometry test today, he agreed.

"Okay, I'll email your math teacher about the test."

"Oh. I forgot about that." You hissed as the late bell rang, causing your head to pound even more for those few seconds.

"That bad, huh?" Jay asked, having heard the bell chime on his end of the phone.

"Uh-huh. But, I can't drive home."

"Okay, and I can't pick you because I'm meeting with a CI. You okay if Adam picks you up and brings you back to the district? Then, me and someone else can go pick up your car from school later?"

"Okay. Why can't I just go home?"

"Because, if you're feeling as crappy as you say you are, then I'd prefer that someone has eyes on you. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Then, you hung up, told the secretary you'd be leaving so that she could send an email to your teachers, grabbed your stuff from your locker, and came back to the office to wait for Adam.

***

Twenty minutes later, Adam walked into the office.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm gonna sign you out and then we'll get you out of here, okay?" You had balled up your sweatshirt and were using it as a pillow and had your eyes closed. But, you cracked them open and nodded. Adam knew this definitely wasn't you lying to get out of a test because usually, you'd tell him not to call you kiddo, seeing as you were sixteen.

Adm showed his ID to the secretary and then he signed you out. You stood up and your head started pounding even more due to the sudden change in posture.

"Here, I can take your bag," Adam offered and you handed him your backpack.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Then, you made your way to Adam's Jeep and got in the backseat. Not even two minutes into the trip to the district, you knew you couldn't take the music that was playing from the radio...even though you knew it was lower than he normally played it.

"Adam?" you asked, your head now resting on your balled-up sweatshirt as you tried your best to lay down while still buckled up in the backseat.

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn off the music? It really hurts my head."

"Of course." Then, he quickly turned off the radio and the two of you rode in silence the rest of the way to the district.

Adam would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Mini Halstead! What's--" Trudy Platt exclaimed when you and Adam walked into the district, but Adam quickly placed a finger to his lips as you whimpered at the loudness of her voice. "Sorry," she whispered. "You hungry?"

You shook your head. "Thanks, though."

The desk sergeant nodded. "Let me know if she needs anything," she directed to Adam.

"Will do, Sarge."

Then, the two of you made your way up the stairs and into Intelligence, not without the buzzer on the gate causing you to hiss at the pain it caused in your temples.

"Mini Halstead!" Kevin exclaimed, but Adam quickly put a finger to his lips as you whimpered at his loud voice.

Jay quickly made his way over to you. "Let's go into the break room, okay?" You nodded. Jay turned to Adam. "I can take her bag."

Jay took your backpack from Adam and then the two of you went into the break room.

"There's some Tylenol and water on the table for you," Jay said, fully expecting you to walk over and get it. But, instead, you just plopped yourself down on the couch. "Or, I can bring it to you."

He gave you the water and the two pills and you took them.

"Have you eaten anything since breakfast?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Hurts to chew."

"Okay." Jay paused for a moment. "I think I have a banana I brought with me in case I got hungry. Is that soft enough for you to chew? I want you to eat something."

"I guess," you mumbled as you laid down on the couch. "Just wanna sleep."

"I know, but I wanna get some calories in you before you do that. Can you just stay awake for like five more minutes?" You nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Jay came back two minutes later with a banana and a blanket.

"Where'd you get the blanket?" you asked.

"I keep it in my truck for late-night stakeouts. Here." He handed you the banana and then set the blanket next to you. "I don't have a pillow, so your sweatshirt will have to do. You all set?"

"Yeah, gonna eat this and take a nap."

"Okay, I'll make sure Voight doesn't yell too much. This door's pretty much soundproof though, so you should be fine. Come get me if you need anything."

"Okay."

Then, you ate the banana, folded up your hoodie and put it under your head, and pulled the blanket over you, quickly falling asleep.

***

You woke up two hours later feeling too warm. Your migraine had subsided into just a headache...but you knew in a couple of hours, the migraine would probably be back after the Tylenol had worn off. And, it was still a decently bad headache, just without the light hurting your eyes as much.

But then, you had an idea.

Sometimes at home when you had headaches, you'd lay your head on the tiled floor of the bathroom because it was cold. Cold surfaces always seemed to help.

So, you looked out into the bullpen to see if anyone was there.

No one.

You picked up your phone to see a text from Jay saying that they had gone on a raid and would be back soon and that if you needed anything, to let Trudy know. He also said that he had let Will know what was going on and that he'd be at the apartment later tonight to check up on you.

You wrapped the blanket around you and then made your way out of the bullpen and into an empty interrogation room.

You sat down in the cold metal chair and held your blanket tighter around your body. Then, you laid your head on the cold metal table and relished the feeling of coolness on your head.

Yeah, this will help.

***

"I didn't do it! I swear!" a drug dealer that Trudy was holding by the arm defended himself while Trudy led him to an interrogation room.

"Not that I don't believe you," she started, "but I've heard that one before."

She walked into the interrogation room and her eyes went wide when she saw you lying with your head on the table, asleep.

"What's a kid doing in here? I don't know her!"

"Shut up," Trudy told him. "Come on."

Then, she pulled him towards the next interrogation room.

"Some officers will be in here soon to have a chat with you. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

Then, Trudy left the room and closed the door, and made her way into the interrogation room where you were currently sleeping.

She knelt down beside you. "Y/N," she whispered. You didn't stir. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Kid, wake up."

"Hmmm, no," you said, not even lifting your head up. "Wanna go home. Cold feels good on my head."

Then, Trudy heard the buzzer to Intelligence go off. "I'll be back," she told you.

"Uh-huh," you said, closing your eyes once again.

Trudy walked into Intelligence and immediately set her sights on Jay.

"Halstead," she barked.

Jay quickly turned his head. "What can I do for you, Sarge?"

"You can explain to me why that sister of yours is currently taking a nap in one of my interrogation rooms because she says the cold feels good on her head and then get her out of there," she told him.

"What?" he asked, more confused than ever.

"Y/N's napping at the table in an interrogation room. I need you to get her out of there. I almost put a dealer in there."

"Why's she in there?"

"Like I just told you: she said the cold feels good on her head. But I need you to get her out of there. Now."

"Copy you, Sarge."

"Good choice, Chuckles, good choice."

Then, Jay made his way to the interrogation room that Trudy told him that you were in.

He squatted down next to you. "Y/N," he whispered.

"Feels good. Leave," you mumbled.

"You know I can't let you stay in here. We gotta get you back out into the break room. It's not safe for you in here."

"Don't care."

Jay huffed. "I know you don't, but I do."

You opened your eyes to see that Jay had turned the lights on all the way...compared to how dim you had them before.

Fuck, it had been a few hours since you had taken the Tylenol and it was wearing off.

You closed your eyes again.

"Y/N," Jay warned.

"Light hurts."

Jay sighed. "Okay, I'll dim the lights and I'll be right back."

Jay dimmed the lights and walked out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen once more.

"Why's she not out yet?" Voight asked.

Jay rummaged around in his desk while he answered. "She said the light hurts her eyes, so I'm giving her these to wear." He held up a pair of sunglasses.

"Huh." Voight paused. "Take her home, Jay. You're done for the day. I don't expect to see you back here until Monday."

"Sarge, all due respect, but it's Wednesday and we're in the middle of a case."

"We'll be fine for one half-finished case without you, Jay. Y/N's family. Take care of her. Just think of it as of tomorrow, you get to have a four-day weekend."

"Can I get one of those four-day weekends?" Adam asked.

"No," Voight answered without skipping a beat. "Go take care of your sister, Halstead."

Jay nodded and then grabbed your backpack from the break room and then returned to his desk for his keys and jacket and then went back to the interrogation room.

"Y/N, we're gonna go home now," he whispered when he walked into the room.

"Yay," you said in a monotone voice and slowly lifted your head up and then rubbed your hands down your face.

"Put these on. They should help with the light."

You took the sunglasses from him and put them on. Then, you two slowly walked out of the room and outside of the district to his truck.

***

"So she's sensitive to light and sound?" Will asked Jay over the phone once Will had gotten off shift and realized his brother had called him concerning your headache.

"Yeah, pretty sure it's a migraine," Jay confirmed.

"She mention anything about nausea?"

"When we were driving home she did."

"Could also be that she started getting motion sick if it only happened in the car. I'll stop over and take a look. She eaten anything?"

"Just breakfast and a banana."

"Jesus, man. It's past five o'clock. She needs more than that!"

"I know, but she said it hurts to chew, so I didn't want to force her."

"Okay, I get it then. I'll pick up some food on my way. I'll get Panera Bread so I can get her some soup. Text me what you want."

"Okay, thanks, man. And Y/N likes--"

"--the cheese broccoli soup. I know, Jay, I know."

"Just checking."

Then, Jay hung up and started to look at the menu and then texted Will what he wanted. Now he just had to wait for Will to come over and hopefully fix you. Because Jay would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Thanks for coming, man," Jay said as he opened the door. "God, she's making me really worried."

"Whoa, it must be bad if you're admitting you're worried," Will joked and then set the bag of food on the counter.

"Dude, she was napping in an interrogation room because she said the table was cold and it felt good on her head! Damn right I'm worried!"

"Okay, just...get the food out and I'll go check her out. Hopefully, I can figure out what's making her get all these headaches. She mention headaches before now?"

"Yeah, for about the past week, week and a half. But, they've never been this bad. And, if they were, she hasn't told me."

"Okay, thanks. I'll see if she'll tell me more. She's gonna be okay."

Jay nodded and then Will made his way to your bedroom.

He opened the door to see that you were sound asleep with your blinds closed all the way. You had your fan on and had earplugs in, so he assumed that just wanted the fan on for the cool air and not the noise...and the noise was the reason you usually wanted it on.

Gently, Will touched your shoulder.

"Go away, Jay," you mumbled and rolled over to face the wall.

"It's not Jay, it's--" Will sighed when he realized you wouldn't be able to hear him because of the earplugs you had in. So, he settled on shaking your shoulder until you opened your eyes and realized it was him and not Jay.

You took out the earplugs.

"Can you fix it?" you asked. Then, you whimpered. "It hurts so bad."

Your lip started to tremble. You didn't want to cry because you knew it would make your migraine worse, but you couldn't stop the tears; you were so sick of these damn headaches and this migraine.

"When did they start?" Will asked and turned off the fan.

"Three weeks ago," you answered.

"Jay said only a week and a half."

"I didn't tell him. I thought they were from school stress, but they won't go away. Make it stop! Please! I can't- I can't even think straight anymore, Will."

You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

"Have you been eating a lot of different foods? Getting too little sleep? Drinking too much caffeine? Weird periods?"

"No, none of that." You wanted to tell him that it was weird having him ask you about your period, but your head hurt so bad that you refrained.

"Okay, well, I think Jay's got the food ready, so do you think you can manage some cheese broccoli soup from Panera?"

You shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"That's good enough for me. C'mon."

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses from your bedside table next to you and then followed Will out into the hallway and then put the sunglasses on.

"How you doing?" Jay asked as he finished pouring everyone water.

You shrugged. "Still hurts."

"I'm sorry, but the bottle says you can't have anymore Tylenol yet."

You nodded and sat down and slowly started to eat your soup, sunglasses still on.

You started to eat and then realized your soup was kind of cold. You stood up.

"Soup cold?" Jay asked.

You nodded and put it in the microwave.

Then, something clicked in Will's head.

Cold.

Temperature.

"Barometric pressure," Will muttered. Then he looked up, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Barometric pressure," he repeated, this time louder.

"Bara-what-now?" Jay asked.

"It's essentially the air pressure when the weather changes," he explained. "Remember when Y/N was in elementary school and would have really bad allergies in the fall?"

"Yeah," Jay said. "What's this got to do with migraines?"

"Migraines start around adolescence and since she had allergies in the fall before, I'm fairly certain that this is why she's getting them."

"You know why?" you asked as you sat back down, your soup now warm. "Can you make them stop?"

"I think I do. But, we'd have to get you checked out tomorrow."

"Okay. Thank you. Get me an appointment."

A few days later, after lots of naps, soup, and tv when your headache/migraine decided to subside, you were put on corticosteroids for what were called "cluster headaches" in the medical field. You're only supposed to be on them for about two weeks and then you'd have to be reassessed. But, for now, your migraines had subsided and you could finally, finally think clearly.

***

Sorry About your Truck (age 18)

You didn't know what was happening. One second you were driving on the circle of the on-ramp to the highway, and the next, you fishtailed to the right. You spun your wheel to the left, maybe slammed on the brakes (which you knew you weren't supposed to do), and then slid to the right again. It all happened so fast that you didn't even know how it happened.

But, you knew how you got in this position.

"Fuck," you muttered as you put your hand up to the vent in your car the day before you left for school. Even though it was set to defrost, you still should've been able to feel some heat coming out. But you felt nothing. Well, nothing but cold air.

You trudged back inside to see Jay putting on his jacket.

"I think my heat in my car's broken," you said.

Jay looked at you and raised his eyebrows. "You probably just didn't turn it on."

"Yes, I did. And I double-checked. Come see."

So, Jay walked out to your car. And sure enough, your heat was broken.

"I'll drop you off at school and then we'll bring the car to the shop tonight. C'mon," Jay told you.

"I have to work tomorrow until 11," you said. "How am I supposed to go to work?"

Jay sighed. "I'll figure it out."

Because, he knew for a fact he couldn't let you drive without heat...not in these Chicago winters.

***

"Jay, man, you gotta go to sleep," Will told his younger brother.

"Dude, it's getting icy out!" Jay argued over the phone. "I'm staying awake until she gets home!"

Will sighed. "Fine. I know there's no changing your mind."

"Thank you. Now, I'm gonna see if I can find a hockey game happening on the west coast and watch that. I'll text you when she gets home."

"I don't need you to do that, but if it makes you feel better, feel free. God, you need to make your cop instincts chill for once."

***

You screamed. You didn't know what to do. One second you swerved to the left and then you swerved to the right. You tried to correct yourself again and get back on the road, but it wasn't working...not like it worked last time when you tried to go back the opposite way anyway. But, now, oh now you were more terrified than before...if that was even possible.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes as you heard the sounds of metal ripping through metal. Then, you felt yourself tumbling. You didn't know if you were screaming at this point, but you felt your knee jam into the dashboard and the next thing you knew, you were upside down with only your seatbelt keeping you in place and the broken glass from the windows had left a smattering of cuts along your body, with the deepest one being on your forehead.

You kept flailing your arms, trying to do something, anything to get you out. And then you heard the sound of sirens and the snow around you started turning blue.

Great...you had found the button to turn on Jay's sirens. Just great.

"Help!" you yelled.

You hoped that someone would call 911....but according to these sirens, you were 911.

***

"Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Engine 51, Battalion 25. Single vehicle car accident. Person trapped."

"Single vehicle?" Casey asked. "Why do they need all of us?"

"Beats me," Severide said. "But we're about to find out."

***

"A cop car?" Kelly asked as he furrowed his eyebrows on the way to the scene.

"Guess so, Lieutenant," Cruz said. "Looks like an undercover car to me, too."

As they got closer, Kelly noticed something. He knew that truck.

"Casey," he said into his radio, "that look like Jay Halstead's truck to you?"

Casey tilted his head. "You know, it actually does. Dispatch," he started, "this is Truck 81 to Main, can you get in contact with the 21st District and see if Jay Halstead is on duty tonight and then get back to us?"

"Copy that Truck 81."

They all pulled up to the scene and Boden started directing everyone.

"Squad, we need to get that victim out. Truck, help Squad with figuring out how to get the victim out. Chances are we'll have to cut the car and need all hands on deck. Engine, I need you on standby in case there's a gas leak and a fire starts. Sixty-One, do all you can."

They all said their "copy that's" in some form or another and then Casey, Stella, and all of Squad 3 went over to look at the truck.

"Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me, please!" At this point, the blood from your forehead was dripping all over the roof of the truck. At least, since you were upside down, the blood wasn't going into your eyes. But, tears were rolling down your cheeks. You were terrified and your knee was in so much pain from being crushed up against the dash and your head was starting to burn where you had been cut by the glass.

"Main to Truck 81, Jay Halstead is not on duty tonight according to the 21st."

"It's not Halstead!" Casey yelled. "He's not on duty!"

They all raced up to the truck.

"I'm gonna climb up to the window and see how the victim's doing. I'll tell you what we need from there," Kelly said.

Then, with the help of Cruz and Capp, he got on top of the rolled-over vehicle.

"Help! Please help me!" you yelled.

"We're gonna get you out, don't worry!" Kelly yelled once he was close enough that he knew you'd be able to hear him.

You knew that voice.

Kelly looked down into the truck to see you straining your neck to look out the broken window and up to him.

"Don't move!" he ordered. He had no idea whether or not you had sustained injuries to your spinal cord.

"O- Okay," you whimpered. "I'm scared, Kelly."

"I know, I know. But we're gonna get you out of here. It'll all be okay." He turned his head so that it was back facing Squad, Casey, and Stella. "Casey!" he yelled. "I need you to tell Boden to get in touch with one of the Halsteads! It's Y/N!"

***

"Hello?" Jay asked sleepily into his phone. He had finally taken Will's advice and had tried to go to sleep...with a Vegas Golden Knights vs. Colorado Avalanche game playing in the background since that was the NHL game that was happening on the west coast right now.

"Halstead, it's Wallace Boden. Are you aware that your sister was driving your truck?"

At this, Jay sat up straight, sleep be damned. "She was. Why? What happened? Is she okay?"

He stood up and started pacing the room.

"Jay, I'm going to tell you the location and I need you to call Will and you both need to get here ASAP."

"Chief, all due respect, but you need to tell me what's going on."

"Y/N's been in a car accident. It's a roll-over crash. She's currently stuck in the car but conscious."

Everything Jay learned about bad news from your mom and dad passing, to his time in the military, to him being a cop flew out the window in that very moment.

"She's been in a crash? Can they get her out? Tell me they're gonna get her out, Chief! They have to!"

"Jay, my men are doing everything they can. But right now, you need to call your brother and you need to get to this location as fast as possible."

"Okay, yeah, yeah. I can do that."

Then, Jay quickly hung up.

After calling Will four times in a row, he finally picked up.

"Dude, I'm about to be in surgery, what's--"

"Y/N's been in a car accident. We need to go there now."

Will almost dropped his phone.

"What? How? When?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Boden called me and told me to get to the scene ASAP. I'll pick you up on the way."

Then, without waiting for Will's response, Jay hung up the phone and dialed a number he never thought he'd be calling off duty: his new partner, Hailey Upton.

"Hailey, it's Jay. I need a favor."

***

"Capp!" Kelly yelled. "We need to cut through the seat to get it off from the floor because that's currently the ceiling! Squad and 81, we need to cut the back of the truck so we can get her out of here! 51, figure out how to kill these sirens! And, Brett, I need you to come up here and take a look so you can tell me the best way to get her out of here!"

Sylvie Brett started sprinting over to the truck with her jump bag and then Casey and Cruz helped her onto the truck and Kelly gave her his hand to make sure she got all the way up there safely.

"Y/N, I'm Sylvie. Do you remember me?" she asked calmly.

"Uh-huh," you answered, trying your best not to move your head like had Kelly told you.

"I bet your leg hurts really bad, huh?"

"Not, not really," you answered.

Sylvie and Kelly shared a look. They knew what this was: you were going into shock.

"Hand me that flashlight," Sylvie said to Kelly. He handed it to her. "Yeah, she's tensing her leg muscles, which is probably why she can't feel it. She's still having an adrenaline rush since she seems to unconsciously tensing them. We'll still give her pain meds as soon as we can because when the pain wears off, it's gonna hurt.

"For now, I need to get a C-collar on her and when she gets out, I need her on a backboard and I need that leg in a splint. Try your best not to do any sudden movements that can hurt her leg even more than it already is. By the looks of it, I'm assuming she shattered her knee cap."

"Got the bolt cutters, Severide!" Capp yelled.

"Got the saw, too!" Casey yelled. "I think we should start by cutting the end of the truck, sound good?"

"Yeah, that works!" He took off his turnout coat and handed it to Brett. "Get in there, get a C-collar on her, and cover her with this while we cut the end of the truck. Close your eyes and cover your head with your jacket. Yell to me when you're ready."

"Why aren't you going in there?" Sylvie asked as she positioned herself to jump through the window and down into the truck.

"I don't think I could fit through that window."

"You never know," Sylvie said and then slipped down and into the truck.

"They're gonna cut it?" you asked frantically. "But what if they hurt me?"

"Y/N, it's okay. They won't hurt you. They're professionals. They've done this hundreds of times. But, I need you to stay calm for me. I'm gonna put this C-collar around your neck and cover you with this coat so that debris doesn't get in your eyes." She didn't mention the cut on your forehead and at the moment, she hoped you weren't feeling it.

Sylvie got the C-collar around your neck to stabilize it and then she put the turnout coat over you and pulled hers over her head. "Ready!" she yelled to Kelly.

You started hearing the sound of metal being cut. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, but at the same time, you couldn't feel anything at all.

***

"There it is!" Jay pointed from the passenger seat of Hailey's car. The hospital had been on their way to the scene, so they grabbed Will on the way. Jay was thankful because he knew that the hospital would be close if you needed to go there.

Will was practically standing up in the backseat so that he could jump out of the car as quickly as possible. He needed to make sure you were okay.

Hailey had barely put the car in park when both Halsteads jumped out.

"Chief!" Jay yelled. "Where is she?"

"She's still in the car. They're trying--"

"They're trying?" Jay yelled angrily, cutting Chief Boden off. "If she's not out yet and it's been this long then they sure as hell aren't trying! I swear to God if--"

"Jay!" Will yelled and stepped in front of him and gave him a shove to push him away from Boden. "You need to calm down!"

"Calm down? Don't tell me to fucking calm down! Our sister's in a roll-over crash and you're telling me to calm down?"

"I understand you're upset," Boden started, "but you two shouldn't even be here right now. And, if you don't want to be pushed back behind the yellow tape, I suggest you calm down."

Jay glared at Boden but kept his mouth shut.

Jay started walking away and then locked eyes with Stella. He picked up his pace. Will tried to pull him back because he had a feeling he knew what he was going to do, but he was too late.

"Stella!" he yelled. "What's happening? You gotta tell me what's going on in there. Please."

Stella sighed. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. But, she knew if it was anyone in her family, hell if it was Kelly or anyone else in Firehouse 51, she'd want to know what was going on, too.

"She's upside down, hanging from her seat. Her knee's jammed up against the dash. She's still conscious, but they have to get her out."

There was a loud creaking sound that caused everyone to turn their attention back to the scene.

They had sawed through the back half of the truck and were now going in.

"Casey, Kelly," Stella said into her radio, "can I get an update on the situation? Jay and Will are here and they just want to know."

"We just gotta get the chair down, Kidd," Casey's voice came from her radio. "She's still conscious. She's scared, but she should get out fine."

Jay looked up at the sky while Will sighed in relief.

You'd be getting out of there just fine.

***

The next few hours were a blur of you getting out of the truck and being taken by ambulance to Chicago Med (Will rode with you because of Jay's fear of needles), and you being in knee surgery.

Jay and Will had to wait outside while you were in surgery. And they were beside themselves.

"God, I shouldn't have let her take my truck," Jay vented as he was pacing the waiting area with his hands on his head.

"You couldn't have known it was gonna snow like this. It wasn't supposed to snow like this," Will comforted.

"How do you do it?" Jay asked.

Will furrowed his eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Stay so calm? Like, when we were at the scene, you were so calm when I was absolutely losing it."

"I don't know, I really don't. Maybe I realized that being pissed wasn't going to help anyone. But, when I heard Stella and Casey tell us what was going on, I knew she was going to be okay. There were no injuries to the abdomen, chest, or head--well, except for that laceration on her forehead--and she was conscious. I just knew."

"So you're telling me, you thought logically with medical knowledge?" Jay asked. He had absolutely no idea such a sophisticated sentence would ever make its way out of his mouth, but hey, there was a time and place for everything.

"That and I knew you'd be pissed, so I knew I'd have to at least be calm enough to calm you down...or hold you back."

"There it is."

***

You woke up an hour later. You blinked, trying to remember what happened, and then it all came rushing back. The fishtailing...the screaming...Kelly talking to you...the sound of metal being cut...

You took a deep breath.

This alerted your brothers that you were awake.

"Hey, how was being under?" Will asked jokingly. You had always asked what it felt like to be under anesthesia and Will said he couldn't really explain it; he said you'd just have to find out some time.

"It was a nice nap," you answered.

Will laughed. "I bet it was. Feeling better?"

"Tired," you yawned.

"Well, it is just past four in the morning, so that makes sense."

You looked at Jay. "I'm sorry about your truck. I was just going down the exit ramp and it happened so fast and--"

"Hey, hey," Jay said quickly and stood up. "It's okay. It's just a truck, it's replaceable; you, kiddo, are not."

Will smiled. "Borrowing a line from Mom's book when we both inevitably got in our first car accidents, I see."

Your finger started to move toward the stitches on your forehead.

"No, no, no," Will said quickly. "Don't touch them!"

You kept running your finger over them. "But they feel funny."

"That's because you haven't gotten them before. They'll feel even funnier if you pop one and me or someone else has to redo them."

Your stomach grumbled.

"Okay, what do you want to eat?" Will asked. He handed you a cup of water, too because he figured that if you were hungry, that you'd be thirsty as well.

You took a few sips and then answered. "Olive Garden."

Jay laughed. "Olive Garden isn't open at four am."

You pursed your lips to the side, thinking about what you wanted. "Pizza."

"I'll go have someone grab you some," Will said.

"Maybe send Adam because he can just call the cafeteria lady darlin' and then just like that,--" Jay snapped his fingers---, "she'll get an extra piece for free," Jay suggested.

"Adam's here?" you asked.

"Everyone's here," Jay answered. "They all wanted to make sure that you were okay...and the 21st also got called to see if I was on duty since it was my truck."

"If it makes you guys feel any better, I don't think I'll be driving for a while."

"That's okay. Voight gave me a few weeks off to look after you while you're recovering and I think Goodwin's letting Will cut down his hours."

"What he means Y/N, is that you'll be stuck with us telling you not to try to walk for a few weeks," Will said.

"Uh," you groaned.

Will and Jay both laughed. "I'm gonna go see if Adam can get you that pizza," Will said. He was almost out the door when he added, "you better not touch your stitches while I'm gone."

The next few weeks was a blur of doing all your schoolwork at home--and a lot of times, from the couch--, Jay and Will scolding you if you so much as tried to bend your leg, lots of movies and tv shows (and Jay and Will always let you pick because you couldn't really do much while you were laid up at home), and convincing Jay to buy you lots of Oreos and cheddar popcorn. And if he didn't...well, you'd just text Will (luckily you had insurance on your phone and could get a new one without paying a lot after the crash) and he'd bring you your Oreos and cheddar popcorn. After the first two weeks, Jay just had to live with the fact that he was outnumbered when it came to you and your favorite snacks.

***

Rough Shift (age 21)

Trigger warning for mentions of suicidal ideation!

You sat at Molly's finishing up your second pomegranate martini...and it was only 6 pm. You waved Stella over to have her make you another one.

"Y/N, I know you drove here. I can't in good conscience give you another drink. Hell, I didn't even want to give you the last one! But, I can get you a pop if you want? Or lemonade?"

"Stella," you whined. "I just want another drink. It's been a really rough day at work. Please, just make me another one."

"You know I can't do that. What happened at work? Maybe it'll help to talk about it. We've all had rough shifts before and talking about it or crying it out usually helps."

"I can't really cry it out right in the middle of a bar." You took a shaky breath. "Even though, I really wish I could." Tears started to sting your eyes. You couldn't cry. Not here. "I think I'm gonna go have that cry." You set some money on the bar. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, Y/N, I'm your girl."

"Thanks, Stella."

Then, you left Molly's. But, you didn't go straight home. You decided to go to the store instead. And all you bought there was a bottle of peach Moscato.

Time to get buzzed enough to forget for the time being.

***

When you got home, you popped some food in the microwave since you hadn't eaten since basically breakfast save for some beef jerky and an apple, and unscrewed the cap to the wine you had just bought. Normally, you wouldn't buy a ton of alcohol for yourself because you'd just take Jay or Hailey's drinks if she brought any over (yes, you still lived with Jay because college is ridiculously expensive and you were trying to get out of school with as little debt as possible...if any), but those two were on a camping trip on Lake Michigan for the weekend. You were supposed to go, but then you had to work. So, Will ended up going instead. He said maybe he'd meet a girl up there and you just laughed.

You took a few sips of your wine and then realized that maybe you should call your brothers. You knew this wasn't healthy and you felt like everything was coming down on you at once: the stories you heard at work, being in the hospital, currently just being physically and emotionally exhausted and hungry.

So, you dialed Jay's number.

"Hey, Y/N, what's up?" he asked. He put the phone on speaker so he could finish adding wood to the campfire he was building for him, Hailey, and Will to roast hot dogs over.

"It's just, it's been a really bad day," you said, your voice cracking.

Will was near him and he looked at Jay worriedly.

"Why's that?" Jay asked.

"I- I had to go the hospital with a girl because she- because she said she was going to kill herself." Tears were currently rolling down your cheeks. You had kept it together all day and now you were crumbling.

Working in a group home you knew things like this were bound to happen, but you didn't know they'd happen in your first two months there. And, to make matters worse, you got the email when you were driving into work, so you really had no idea what was going on. When you got to work, you were told you had to go to Lakeshore Memorial Hospital because a girl was saying she was going to kill herself the night before. And, you didn't have the staff to get her back inside safely, so, as is protocol, the shift lead the shift before yours had to call emergency services to take her to the hospital. You didn't know about any of this until you got to work when you were debriefed and then told you'd have to go to the hospital.

God, you knew this happened but nothing prepared you for sitting in that dark room with her all shift, the monitors beeping, telling you that she was still alive. You had done some homework and you had talked with her, gotten more information about why she did it. You had read her file, but she really seemed to open up to you and told you more. And, what broke your heart the most was that, since she was in a group home, she had no family. So, you did your best to sit with her the entire shift, only leaving to go to the bathroom, get some water, or make a phone call to your shift lead. Because, even if you were doing homework and she was sleeping or just sitting in silence, you knew it helped to have someone there with you. And, you knew if it was you in that position, you'd want someone to be there with you.

"Are you okay?" Jay asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I don't want to be alone."

Jay sighed. There was nothing he could really do for you at this point. "Y/N--"

"I'll grab my stuff and I'll be there in an hour and half, Y/N," Will interjected.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want you wasting your weekend off--"

"Y/N," Will began, "it's fine. I'll see you soon."

***

Will walked inside carrying a bag of McDonald's.

He walked into the living room to see you sipping wine out of the bottle. You weren't even halfway through it yet. You were just a little buzzed because you had drank the martinis a couple of hours ago. So, now you needed to get more buzzed to forget about your horrible shift. Normally you never did this: drink to forget. But today, well today, you deemed it warranted.

"Y/N, at least pour it in a glass," Will sighed and then sat down next to you and set the bag of food on the coffee table in front of you.

"Why's it matter? I'm the only one who drinks Moscato; you and Jay say it's too sweet."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to drink too much."

"But I just wanna forget what happened, Will," you said as you turned to face him. You started to cry. "She's just a kid. She shouldn't be going through this. Hell, she shouldn't have gone through what happened to her in her past! She didn't deserve it!"

Will wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug while you cried. He knew because of confidentiality reasons that you couldn't tell him any more than you had just told him and what you mentioned on the phone.

"I know, I know," he soothed.

"I know she didn't- she didn't die," you cried. "But, God, it feels like I got my first death."

"And, crying about it is nothing to be ashamed of," Will said. "When I had my first patient death, I went home and did exactly what you did: cried and drank until I couldn't think straight, much less think about what happened at work."

You pulled away. You didn't think Will ever cried over something that happened at work. "You did?"

"Hand to God, I did."

"How do you cope with this stuff all the time?"

"You do the best you can with the knowledge you have. You talk to somebody about how you're feeling and you don't drown yourself in drinking, drugs, or sex." He moved your bottle of wine. "You cope in healthy ways. And, sooner or later, you realize that you can't save everybody. And, that you can't change the past.

"You can't change what happened in this girl's past to make her end up in a group home or have these intrusive thoughts, but you can help change her future by being there for her and listening to her, and helping her get to a better place."

"That's what I want to do."

"Good, then you're in the right place to do that. You just have to focus on your wins and not your losses."

You pulled away and wiped your hands across your face to get rid of the tears. "Thank you for coming home. I, uh, I really needed that."

Will nodded. "You're welcome. I wished someone would've told me that earlier in medical school and I didn't want you to feel like I felt."

"Is that why you decided to come home and not Jay?"

"Part of the reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the other part?"

"I figured Jay and Hailey could use a night all to themselves."

"Gross!" You faked gagged and Will laughed.

"I don't know if you'll be able to eat now that I mentioned that, but how about we try and we can watch a funny movie?"

"I like that idea."

And, even though you really wanted to get buzzed to forget about the day you had, you knew it was better for you to talk about it with Will and eat takeout and watch a movie with him. And, you were pretty sure you felt better after that than you would if you drank an entire bottle of wine by yourself.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Sorry this one took so long, but I'm in school and working, so updates won't be as frequent as they were in the summer. And finally, please remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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honeybunhalo · 3 years

Photo

Rainy Day, No TTK (Supercorp + Superboy AU Short Comic)

This idea spawned from rereading the 1998 Young Justice comics and falling back in love with everything in it. I love the little details of Kon’s little mundane uses of Tactile Telekinesis. In the beginning of issue 19, the team crashes when it's raining and everyone else is soaking wet besides Greta, who is a ghost, and Kon, who is using his TTK to prevent getting himself and his beautiful hair all wet. It is such a small little detail that is so enjoyable because that totally is something he would end up finding out he could do with his projected forcefield. (I’ll put some in canon examples below)

I liked the idea of young Kon finding out he can do this with TTK and Lena and Kara both weren't prepared for some of the more creative uses of his non Kryptonian based ability. Kara was prepared to help with the Kryptonian abilities but TTK is definitely a surprise package of an ability. He’s still a bit oblivious to how they need to go about using their powers and where and when its appropriate. I really wanted to draw Kara and Lena being adorable and endearing young parents trying to navigate how to raise this half alien kid with a big personality and too much sass to go around (which he will gradually grow into over time after he gets used to living with them).

Kara has been a great help with teaching Kon how to handle small things with super strength and now that he can do so without hurting anything, the boy can’t stop trying to pet or hold almost every animal he sees. The world is just so new to him and he’s seeing every animal for the first time. Kara probably remembers being young and still gripping with not being able to go back to Krypton but the wildlife of earth was so new to her she probably appreciated it or at least found it fascinating. Especially if things got to overwhelming she could find somewhere away from people like in a forest to collect herself.

Kon is pretty good at keeping to the rules of not using his powers in public but he couldn’t help it when he saw a kitten in the rain. He had to use TTK to shield it so it didn’t get any colder.

[Info on this Supercorp + Kon-El/Superboy AU]

Here's a colored drawing so you can appreciate young Kon’s ducky raincoat in its full glory:

Clark, having a mental breakdown about this artificially made-by-Lex pseudo-clone-son (Clark’s mentality in the beginning of my AU): “We just don’t know how dangerous he could be. We don't know if we can have him around humans, especially my family.”

Lena, deadpanned and painfully sarcastic: “Yeah. Because nothing says dangerous bio weapon made for nefarious purposes like a child in a ducky raincoat and frog rain boots.”

Some examples of Kon-El using TTK as an invisible makeshift full-body umbrella (I miss this dork so much). I can’t get over how much personality you can tell this kid has from his body posture alone. This little trouble maker totally deserves parents and a home!!! I will die on this hill.

#Supergirl #Supercorp #Superboy #Kara Zor-El #Kon-El #Lena Luthor #Conner Kent #Kara Danvers #Superman Family #Supercorp + Kon AU #my art #dont worry im still on my bullshit #or maybe worry because i am still on my bullshit #just wanted to share this to see if anyone else likes the idea i just thought it was cute #Supercorp and Superboy AU #the kitten in his arms may have a little TTK as a treat #hes such a sourpuss in these panels i swear

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starryevermore · 3 years

Text

it’s ok if you forget me ✧ bucky barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

inspiration: “it’s ok if you forget me” by astrid s (though not totally based on the song)

summary: it’s ok if you forget about bucky—it’s what he deserves.

word count: 1,641

warnings?: angst angst angst, there is no happy ending, bucky self-sabotaging the good things in his life, brief (vague) mention of his trauma (let me know if there’s any more!)

He wished he had cried when it ended. Really, he did. But, it just felt like something he deserved. He had made his amends. He had been pardoned. He was working toward being a hero—or, at least, not a killer. He was moving on with his life. He knew he deserved good things. But, something in his heart told him that he still wasn’t worthy of having a good life. So, when you told him with a quivering voice and tear-stained cheeks asking why he was breaking up with you, it didn’t hurt the way it should have. Was that bad? Probably. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Bucky didn’t go out much anymore. Not that he went out much before. Most days, he sat on the floor—not the couch, never the couch, the couch was too soft—and just tried to keep the image of you painted in his mind. He was never an artist; that was more Steve’s speed. But he found himself wishing he knew how to paint, or how to sculpt, or how to draw. Something. Anything. A picture on his phone could never do your beauty justice. You looked like one of those grand marble statues that you would see in museums—something grand, something wonderful.

You were too good for him. In every sense. You were so beautiful, so kind. Elegant. Loving. Compassionate. Even when you leaned into your more goofy side, it was still a thousand times better than him. He had nothing to offer you. He was a broken man. He was Humpty Dumpty, and he fell off the wall, and none of the king’s men could put him back together again. You always told him that you didn’t mind his shattered edges, his frayed ends, but he knew better. If you didn’t mind now, you would mind later. Everyone always minds, eventually. Maybe that’s why Steve, his best friend who fought tooth and nail to get him back, left him, too. Maybe the man who swore to stay with him til the end of the line got sick of all the bullshit that came with Bucky too.

So, he never gave you the choice. He wouldn’t let you have the opportunity to leave him like the others. He had to nip this in the bud before he got hurt.

He was so sick of being hurt.

Bucky tried to not think too much about the day he shut you out of his life that much. Instead, he tried to remember the day he first met you. It had been a rainy day, and he was going to meet Yori for lunch. He had poor planning skills—or, perhaps, it was an subconscious way to punish himself for, well, decades of crimes—and he’d forgotten to bring an umbrella or wear a raincoat. So, as he stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn, he accepted his fate of getting soaked to the bone. Until— he wasn’t.

He looked around, before his eyes settled on a young woman, holding her umbrella out over him. It was a small umbrella, barely covering him. She was choosing to let herself get rained on, just to provide him some momentary comfort.

His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he tried to think of something, anything, to say. But then the light had turned and suddenly they were walking across the street, her still holding the umbrella over him. And she stayed like that, walking him all the way to the restaurant, never once moving the umbrella to cover herself instead.

It was only when he stood in front of the restaurant that he could think of something to say. “Would you like to have lunch with me? I’m meeting with a friend, but I don’t think he’d mind.”

And you smiled, agreeing without a moment’s hesitation.

He could never forget that lunch. The way you laughed at Yori’s jokes. The way he tried to stop Yori from telling you embarrassing stories about Bucky that he had collected over the course of their short friendship, or the way that you encouraged Yori to ignore Bucky’s complaints and tell you the stories anyways. It felt so easy. It didn’t feel like he had to put on a mask around you. It didn’t feel like he had to hide himself from you. And, for a long time, he loved that about you.

Until it got scary.

Your relationship with him grew quickly. One second he was asking you on a date, and a second later you were celebrating your sixth month anniversary. Bucky hadn’t felt anything this...permanent in a long time. And that scared the shit out of him.

Panic rose in him faster than the ocean at high tide. He knew what his life was like. He knew that good things didn’t come easily. He hadn’t experienced anything truly good for so long, and the few flips of goodness he was treated with rarely lasted. In his one hundred and six years on this wretched earth, Bucky had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t allowed to have peace.

But you gave him hope. You made him smile. You made him laugh. You made him forget that he had a metal arm and a broken mind. You made him feel like he was human.

Never once did you shy away from him. You openly loved him. From grabbing onto his gloved hand when you went on walks, to curling into his side when you watched a movie together. You invited him to places, just because you wanted to be with him. You sent him memes—whatever the hell those were—just because you thought they’d make him laugh. You’d buy his favorite candy when you were grocery shopping just because. One time, you showed up at his apartment with a bouquet of flowers just for him and he had to stop himself from weeping right then and there. There was no question, no doubt, in his mind that you loved him.

That was the scariest part.

He didn’t know how long your love would last.

He didn’t know when you would realize you were too good for him.

He didn’t know when you would turn and leave, breaking his heart.

Bucky yearned for control. It was all he wanted. Not happiness, not love, but control. He had been pinned under other people’s thumbs for far too long. And, when he felt like he was relinquishing too much of his life into your hands, he got scared and he knew that he needed to get out fast.

So, just shy of your one year anniversary, he texted you that he wanted to end things. He had hoped it would end there, just like that, but you came storming to his apartment a mess.

“Why?” you cried.

“I can’t love you the way you want me to,” he said.

“I don’t care how you love me, I just want your love!”

And, if there was one thing he regretted, it was what he said next. “What if I didn’t love you?”

“You...You don't...You don’t love me?”

“I can’t. I’m not...I’m too broken to love anyone.” “That’s such bullshit, Bucky, and you know it!” you sobbed. “You’re just scared, and you’re trying to hurt me before I hurt you, or whatever story you’ve made up in your head!”

That was another thing that scared him—that you could read him so well. Bucky struggled to understand what he was feeling half the time, but you could always tell the good days from the bad days. And, on the bad days, you always made sure that he knew he was loved. You always loved him. Why did you always love him?

“I don’t want you in my life,” he said, not looking at you.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“I mean it.”

“Bucky, please—”

“Go,” he said. “I’ve never asked for anything this entire relationship. Please just leave me be. It’s what I want.”

“Seriously? Is that seriously what you want?” you said, unable to hold the tears in anymore, letting them freely flow down your face.

“It is. It’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“Fine. But you better remember this was your choice. Not mine,” you said, pointing a finger at him before turning on your heel and marching out of his apartment. Forever.

And, God, did he wish he could forget.

He hated knowing that he was the cause of your pain. He wanted nothing more than to chase you down, pull you into his arms and kiss the tears away. Apologize for the shit he said. Tell you that he loves you more than he loves the air he breathes. That he’s scared shitless of you realizing that you could have anyone in the world, and that you didn’t want Bucky anymore. That he wants a future with you, and whatever that entailed.

Instead, he let you walk.

It’s what he asked for, after all.

He could only pray that you would forget about him. That you found someone better, someone good. That you found someone who didn’t have so many broken pieces clued together. That you found someone who wasn’t ripped apart and stitched back together a thousand times over. That you found someone who loved you as much as he loved you, minus all the pain that he knew he would bring.

If he could tell you anything, it would be that.

That it was ok to forget about him.

He would never know that you would never want to forget him.

Because, for as much as he looked at you like were the beautiful moon hanging in the sky, you looked at him like he was the ocean, reaching out to kiss you day in and day out.

If only he knew.

#bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fic #the winter soldier #winter soldier #starrywrites #starrybrock

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levi-supreme · 3 years

Text

Petrichor

Characters: Levi x gender neutral!reader

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: SFW, fluff

Word count: 1,000

A/N: It was raining heavily recently and what could be better than a fluffy fic with Levi? SNK may have ended but my love for Levi lives forever!!

Summary: Levi hates the rain, however, you don't. And because he loves you, he starts to love rainy days too.

[22/07/22] Cross-posted to AO3!! Read on AO3 here.

“Levi!!!” You shouted as you burst through the front door, already wearing your frog raincoat with a large smile on your face.

“What do you want?” The raven-haired boy answered without breaking eye contact from whatever he was doing. Levi was absorbed in his book, flipping a page as you kicked off your rain boots.

“It’s raining!!! Let’s go out, Levi!!” You shrugged off your raincoat and made a beeline straight for Levi’s room.

“No, brat, it’s cold. And I’ll get wet,” Levi lazily replied, flipping another page of his book as he noticed you standing at his door. You looked dejected, hearing him reject your proposal. Levi hated the rain, because it was cold, gloomy, and boring. However, you looked the total opposite of the gloomy weather; your radiance was comparable to the sun shining brightly on a summer day. Seeing your pout made his heart do a tiny flip. Of course Levi wanted to play with you outside, he would do anything to spend time with you, but there’s no one at home. His mum would definitely not allow him to go out when it’s raining.

Sensing his inner turmoil, you dashed towards Levi and rugby tackled him on the floor, messing up his perfectly combed hair and landing with a loud crash.

“Don’t be a spoilsport Levi! Auntie Kuchel said it was fine, she told my mum we could go out!” You grinned at Levi, face inches from his own while your arms were still tangled around his midsection. Both of you were only eight years old, however Levi couldn’t help but feel heat gathering around his cheeks. The closeness of your bodies left him feeling dazed and confused.

“C’mon,” You forcefully grabbed his hand and yanked him up, pulling him to his wardrobe and rummaging for his raincoat. Levi still had a blank look on his face. You forced the raincoat over his head, and dashed towards the door.

“Let’s go, Levi!”

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

As the rain continued pounding a steady rhythm against the window pane, thunder came cracking through like a sounding whip. Levi was at his desk furiously typing on his laptop, impatiently pushing his reading glasses up his nose.

“Levi!” You shouted as you stood by his door, holding an umbrella in your hand with a little smile.

“What do you want?” Levi answered, eyes trained on the screen. He had a meeting with the company’s board of directors tomorrow, and was preparing his presentation slides.

“It’s raining! Let’s go out, Levi! We can stop by the supermarket for groceries too!” You hung the umbrella by the door knob and looked at him expectantly. You loved rainy days and how the cooler air gave you the perfect opportunity to wear your favourite knitted sweater. You loved the comfort from the steady pitter-patter of the rain, lulling you to a dreamless sleep. Most of all, you loved how Levi, although grumpy and unwilling, always went out with you on rainy days, an arm holding the umbrella while the other warmly held your hand.

“No brat, it’s cold, and I have to finish my presentation slides,” Levi lazily answered with no intention of leaving his seat. You skipped into his study room, flinging your arms around him from behind his chair.

“Aww c’mon Levi, we’re out of groceries. And I promised I’ll make you a vegetable gratin tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek, and lay your chin on his head. Levi rubbed his tired eyes as he removed his glasses, reaching his left hand up to stroke your cheek. Feeling the cold metal on his ring finger touch you made you shiver involuntarily.

“Fine, I need a breather anyway,” Levi held your hand as he gave the matching ring on your finger a kiss, guiding you towards his wardrobe while you chose his outfit. As you rummaged through his clothes, Levi looked at you and let out a chuckle; he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. Pulling a navy blue sweater over his head, you grabbed Levi’s hand and dashed out of the study room.

“Let’s go, Levi!” Giggling as you took the umbrella from the door.

“Hey, Levi,” you poked his cheek, making him turn towards you. The both of you were walking home from the grocer’s. The rain had gotten smaller, yet Levi was still holding the umbrella, sheltering you from the gentle showers.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember the time when I rugby tackled you to the ground when we were eight?”

“Of course, brat,” Levi rolled his eyes. He’ll remember that day forever, even until death. It was that fateful day when he realised he liked you more than just a friend.

"Have I ever told you that you were blushing mad that day?" You wiggled your eyebrows, thoroughly enjoying the embarrassed look on Levi's usually expressionless face. “What about my blushing face, you brat?” Levi stopped in his step, giving you a pointed stare.

“Did you fall in love with me that day, Levi?”

"... maybe?"

"Aww c'mon, tell me," you groaned, grabbing Levi's free hand, hearing the soft clink of metal. "We've known each other since we were in diapers, Levi, admit it."

“Then you already know the answer,” Levi turned away, refusing you let you tease him any further.

“I want to hear it from you Levi! Say it, won’t you?” You looked at Levi, eyes following him when he turned. “Tell me, Le-” Lips as soft as a feather gently captured your trembling ones, spreading warmth all the way down to your toes.

“I married you, isn’t that good enough?” Levi’s voice was no louder than a whisper. The pitter-patter of the rain and gentle rumbling of distant thunder created a melodious harmony.

“I love you, okay? Now let’s go before I regret my choice,” Levi walked on ahead without you, leaving you getting drenched. You grinned, before rushing towards Levi and jumping onto his back, crossing your arms and legs around him.

“Let’s go, Levi.”

Tagging: my best supporters here @levi-lover @thehouseofmaple @ackerpotato @anlian-aishang @peachysimp LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH I hope you all liked it <3 and sorry if it's boring lol >//<

Levi Master List | Main Master List | Join the taglist

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thenovelartist · 3 years

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A Blanc Slate, Chapter 1

Marichat May 2021 has arrived and I am once again writing a story by the seat of my pants. XD I will post one chapter a day (hopefully daily?), and each chapter will have 3 prompts. Enjoy ;)

Next >

1. Rain

The clouds were thick and black, shrouding the city in darkness. This was normally when Chat Noir had the best time blending in.

But as he stood before her now, up in the high beams of the Eiffel Tower, his brilliant white suit stuck out like a sore thumb.

She remembered the first time he’d been akumatized and turned into Chat Blanc. His blue eyes had flipped between empty and full of pain. He’d been fighting the akuma the whole time, and it had physically pained her to see him like that.

However, that was the difference between then and now. His normal green eyes glowed behind that white mask. No; that was a lie. They held the same green color, but instead of the vibrant life they normally held, they were empty. Hollow. As if his soul had died.

“Chat Noir?”

Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, and had his kitty ears not twitched, she would have questioned whether he’d even heard her.

With inaudible footfalls, he slowly stepped towards her. Once he was close but still out of touch range, he extended his closed fist towards her.

Normally, that would be a ‘pound it’, but it hurt Ladybug more than she would have thought to know Chat was just wanting to give her something.

She extended her own hand out, and he dropped two things into her hand. Clink clank.

Even in the darkness that hung over Paris, she knew what those were right away. And her gut positively dropped to the bottom of the Eiffel Tower.

“Chat,” she started, words somehow failing her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he stated, his voice firm but tired. She only could tell that because she’d known him so long.

Her hand around the two miraculouses, falling to her side as she took him in. “If… if I have the moth miraculous, then… how are you…?”

Her words died out, and Chat didn’t add to them, instead turning his head away while his ears flattened back on his head.

Biting her lip, Ladybug fought for anything to say. “Are you okay?”

She already knew the answer. But he still said it.

“No.”

“What can I do?”

“Not much,” he said, taking a step back. “And frankly… there’s nothing I want you to do, either.”

She felt cold begin to hit her face, but the oncoming rain was the least of her worries. Even the fact she held the two missing miraculouses was negligible compared to the weight of her heart breaking at the pain her partner was experiencing.

“Chat—”

“Please, Ladybug,” he growled, ears pinning flat as he shot her a snarl. But it didn’t seem to mesh with the tears that were already forming in his eyes. “I need you to stay out of this.”

“But I don’t want to just sit here and do nothing when you’re—”

“This isn’t your battle to fight!” he shouted, shocking her silent. “Hawkmoth was your battle to fight. Mayura was your battle to fight. But the miraculouses are back in your hands, meaning your fight is over.”

“It’s not over until they’re brought to justice, Chat,” she countered. “And I’m not going to let you just—”

“He was my father!”

Lightening ripped across the sky, followed by thunder rolling through Paris and shaking Ladybug’s entire world.

“It’s personal,” he spoke, his voice steady once again. “And not anything you will muddy your hands with. I won’t let you. You will tell the public that you retrieved the miraculouses and Paris is safe. I will handle the rest.”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to just let you handle it alone?”

“You think I’m not capable?”

“I never said that!”

“It’s better this way, Ladybug,” he said. “That way you won’t be lying to the press when you say you didn’t know Hawkmoth’s real name and therefore cannot release it to the public.”

She grit her teeth. She did hate lying, but in this instance, for Chat’s sake, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

And he should have known that.

“Then what about you?” she challenged.

“What about me?”

“You think I’m going to do this without you by my side?”

“Yes.”

The finality of those words struck her harder than an akuma blow.

His eyes flooded with an intensity rarely seen from him, and Ladybug found herself taking a step back to steady herself.

“Let me finish this,” Chat stated. “And once I do, I’m giving you my ring back.”

“NO!” The panic that suddenly bubbled up felt suffocating. “No. What makes you think you need to surrender it?”

The rain was coming down harder, but Ladybug hardly felt it. She barely acknowledged the fact they were both drenched by now. All that registered in her mind was Chat’s sad and broken expression.

“Sorry,” he whispered, barely above the rain. “But I can’t be your Chat anymore.”

He took a step backwards and away, putting more distance between them before giving her a pained smile. “And… I guess the other thing is I need time away from you.”

“Why?” she begged. She was sure tears were streaming down her face by this point, but her cheeks were so wet that she didn’t know what was her tears and what was rain. “What are you even talking about? I don’t—”

“I know you don’t,” he interrupted.

“Then tell me!” she screamed. “Aren’t we partners?”

He sighed, pained grin still on his face. “We were,” he said. “Until Hawkmoth was gone, right? I’m going to go clean up the mess. Think of it as… as my last gesture to you.”

Ladybug just stood confused. “What—”

“Good bye, Ladybug,” he said, taking out his staff. “We’ll meet again, at least once. I promise. After all—” He waved his hand, the one with his ring, in her direction. “I will be giving this back to you.”

And with a roar of thunder, he was gone.

2. Ghibli

As Ladybug made her way home in the rain, she so happened to catch sight of a figure sitting in the park across the street from her house. Part of her was tempted to stop and rush over to him, but the other half knew better. Considering what had just happened at the Eiffel Tower, she knew he would run from Ladybug.

But maybe…

Would he run from Marinette?

With the idea in her mind, she ran back home, detransformed the second she entered her room, quickly put away the two miraculouses he’d given her, and then snagged a raincoat and an umbrella before running back out of the house.

Checking both ways before crossing the street, Marinette splashed through any and all puddles without care as she ran towards Chat Noir… er, she supposed he was Chat Blanc now.

It didn’t matter to her. That was still her partner no matter what color his suit was. And at the moment, her partner was in pain, slumped over as he sat on the edge of the park’s fountain, his head hung low and ears drooping as rain poured over him.

When Marinette got closer, she noticed his ears twitch before he glanced up and looked towards her. His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing out, princess?”

Princess. That was her nickname. That was also a very good sign. It gave her hope he wouldn’t turn her away.

She flipped up the hood on her raincoat before extending the umbrella out so that it was covering him. “What are you doing out, Chat?”

“Nothing,” he curtly said. “Go home, Marinette. It’s cold out.”

“Exactly,” she countered. “So why are you out here getting soaked?”

He just shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons you don’t want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she said, wracking her brain for ideas on just how she could convince him to get him out of the rain. “Do your reasons allow you to come inside the bakery, then? Or are you out here punishing yourself for being a bad kitty?”

She tried to make it a joke, hoping it would put a smile back on his face if only for a second. But she instantly regretted her words the moment his ears fell again.

“Chat—”

“Please, just leave me alone.”

Her heart broke all over again. Something in the way his head was bowed just made her want to touch him, want to comfort him. Part of her knew it was risky to push her luck, but the other part, the part that cared deeply for her partner, just wanted to comfort him any way she could.

She patted his head, causing him to startle in a way that shocked her. His eyes were full of panic at her touch and his body was tense, as though he was ready to run.

“Sorry,” she said, tugging her hand away and taking a step back. Please don’t run. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t relax fully, but the tension in his body did ease a bit, and then he shifted away, out from under her umbrella. “It’s fine. Just leave me alone.” Then he looked up, his eyes locking on something behind her. “You should go back home.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“Marinette.”

“I’m not going to just leave you out here in the rain like some kicked cat!”

Lighting flashed in the sky, shortly followed by thunder, but Marinette hardly noticed. Her attention was fully focused on Chat, who was looking back up at her with some surprise.

Eventually, he sighed, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “I’ll escort you; that’s all. Understood.”

Better than nothing, and it still gave her a chance to convince him inside out of the rain. “Understood.”

He stood, but he ended up stumbling sideways two steps as though he was going to fall over.

“Chat?”

“I’m fine,” he said, spreading his feet wide to give him more balance. “It’s…” He forced a smile at her. “Just been a long day.”

Liar, she thought. It’s not just that.

He got close enough to put a hand on her shoulder with the intent of guiding her back towards her house, but Marinette just knew something was off. She dropped her umbrella in favor of holding Chat’s head with one hand while the other landed on his forehead.

In spite of the chilling rain, he was warm.

He stepped away, clearly agitated at the touch—that was the other thing; Chat loved touch, so why was he shying away from it now?—and shot her a glare. “Marinette,” he growled in warning.

“You’re running a fever, aren’t you?” she asked, watching as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.

“I’m fine!”

“You are not!”

“I am!” he shouted, voice firm and strong and threatening. She found herself taking a step back out of shock.

He seemed to notice that because half the fight in his eyes extinguished immediately. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. I never asked for help. I don’t want anyone else to end up in this mess. So, leave me the hell alone!”

But he didn’t move. And neither could she.

And when he took a step back, as to be the first one to retreat, he stumbled, landing on his knee.

She rushed to his side. “Sorry, Chat,” she said, grabbing his arm, both to keep a hold of him so he wouldn’t run as well as support him. “But I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“You should.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t need you.”

“But you want someone, right?”

“Not in my own mess.”

“But do you really want to fight it alone?”

The only sound that filled the space was the rain that continued to pour down.

And after what felt like an eternity, he eventually spoke. “No…” he admitted, voice quiet and weak. “No, I don’t, but it would hurt worse if someone was hurt because of me.”

She didn’t know how to counter that. All she knew was she needed to get him out of the rain as soon as she could. “Come on, Chat.” she coaxed. “At the very least, let me get you out of the rain.”

He still hadn’t moved from the ground, leaving it up to Marinette to pull him up. He had to lean on her substantially, and she hadn’t even realized he’d been this unsteady on his feet.

Had he been like this just an hour ago when he met her as Ladybug?

She dragged him back to her home, then slowly up the stairs before deciding the best place to dump him was in the bathroom so he could both get clean and warm himself up. She could only hope she didn’t leave her bathroom a disaster as she led him inside. Thankfully, it wasn’t too much a wreck. She sat him down on the edge of the tub, then patted his head. “I’ll go grab you a towel, okay? You just take your time to clean yourself up.”

“Marinette…” he weakly tried to argue.

“Don’t even try with me, kitty,” she warned. “Warm up. Use whatever you need to. I think I have clothes that will fit you that you can change into. I’ll go grab those. Don’t worry about it and don’t even try to argue with me.”

He looked up at her, and she swore she could see the internal debate happening behind those green eyes of his.

Eventually, he sighed. “You’re as stubborn as my lady.”

Marinette smiled, a genuine one. No matter what front he had tried to put up, he still considered her his lady. That gave her hope. “Thanks for the compliment.”

And with that, she walked out of the bathroom and shut the door. Once she did, she heard the water start up.

“Hey!” Chat called out. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, what do you need?”

There was a pause. “Is… is there any conceivable way I could bother you for some cheese?”

Ah, for his kwami. What did Chat always complain about? Smelling like camembert? She would have to go see if she had any, but she knew any cheese would do. “Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

Anything for you, kitty. “No problem.”

With that, she started off to collect the needed items only to realize that walking up 2 flights of stair soaking wet was bound to leave dirty, wet footprints on the floor.

Well… guess she knew how Sophie felt now having to deal with Howl.

3. Dirt

Once all the dirt on the floor and stairs was cleaned up, she started collecting the things Chat needed. She did manage to find some camembert in the fridge, though it wasn’t much. Surely it would be enough to restore his kwami, though.

After that she grabbed a towel and change of clothes for him. Who knew what shape his clothes were in, and she wasn’t going to let him get back into dirty clothes after a nice bath if she could help it. Luckily, he and Adrien looked to be about similar sizes, and she had made an outfit for Adrien since his birthday was right around the corner. She knew he was the son of a fashion designer, but he’d also totally egged her on last month when she casually suggested making him an outfit one day. And so, she did.

Now that outfit would be worn by Chat Noir for the time being, but Adrien didn’t have to know that.

Once her arms were full of the aforementioned items, she knocked on the door to the bathroom. “Chat, I have the cheese you asked for, and a towel and change of clothes for you, too. I’m going to close my eyes and slide them in, okay. I won’t look, I swear.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” he said, voice sounding very tired.

With her eyes closed, she cracked the door open and felt around for the counter before sliding the items on top of it. Once she was sure they weren’t going to fall on the floor, she quickly backed out and shut the door again. “There you go. Feel free to ask for anything else, okay?”

“Hey, Marinette?”

“Yeah?”

He was silent for a moment, and she opened her mouth again to repeat herself when he spoke. “I… really appreciate this,” he said. “Sorry for… pushing you away, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m… I’m really grateful… that you did this for me.”

Anything for you, you stupid cat. “You’re welcome, Chat Noir. It’s always an honor to help out the heroes of Paris when they need anything.”

He was silent yet again, but Marinette didn’t quite want to leave. “Feel free to take your time in there,” she said. “And when you come out, I’ll check your temperature again and give you something for your fever if I suspect you have one. Oh! And I know you’ll be careful anyway, but those clothes were actually made for a friend. I really don’t mind you borrowing them for the time being, but once you’re able to return them, I would like them back, please.”

“I’ll bring them back as soon as I can, princess, in the same condition you gave them to me in. I promise.”

“Thanks, Chat. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“You’ve done more than I deserve, Marinette,” he spoke, voice now solemn. “Thank you.”

You’re hurting, kitty, and I won’t feel like I’ve done enough until I know how to help you through it. “You’re very welcome, Chat.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #marichat #marichatmay2021 #Chat Blanc #hurt/comfort #angst #yeah we're beginning with pain #Will eventually get better ;)

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morkleemelon · 3 years

Text

pairing: mark x reader, best friend! haechan x reader, gender neutral

genre: college! au, angst, based on the song ‘drivers license’ by olivia rodrigo

warnings: language, heartbreak, allusions to a broken past, mention of parental issues, college party with alcohol

word count: 5021

song recs: drivers license - olivia rodrigo, heather - conan gray, happier - ed sheeran, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko, someone you loved - lewis capaldi

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

The apartment door shut behind you with a soft click as you return after a long day of classes. Feeling around the wall in the dark, you switch on the overhead light, the murmur of electricity giving its greetings.

Your living space is underwhelming: you’ve allowed yourself minimal furniture to save on funds and what little you do have is unfortunately not tidied well.

Unopened mail scatters across your plaster countertop. One in particular seems out of place amongst the dull grays and whites of the others, the bright smile of a supposed student greeting you with a cartoonish “congrats! you passed your driving test!”.

It all seems pointless now.

Your body aches as you set down your backpack and strip off your outer layers. It’s mid-spring in Seoul, so daily downpours of rain is a given.

Tossing your raincoat carelessly over a nearby chair, you don’t mind as the raindrops patter onto the wood panel floor as you make your way to the living room couch. The worn out leather used to be comfortable, but now it scratches at your skin with the memories you had attached to it.

You remember when he used to be here with you. You’d laughed together, cried together, talked together until the moon went to rest and the sun took its place in the sky. Everything was brighter then when he loved you.

Mark had chased after you first. He’d taken to you almost immediately after you’d met; he was walking downtown with his friends and when he wasn’t careful where he was going, backing into you and causing you to spill your tea all over yourself. He was flustered, running into the nearby café to get you napkins to clean yourself off. You said it was okay, but he insisted he give you his number so he could pay to get your shirt cleaned or buy you a new one.

Pulling a blanket throw over your legs, you switch on the tv to drown out the quiet. Your eyes fix on the old soap opera, but you aren’t really paying attention. The roaring laugh track falls dead to your ears as you pull the blanket closer over yourself. The space next to you feels so empty.

Mark was never subtle about liking you. After that first time you met, he made it his mission to make you his. You weren’t sure about it because he was part of the popular crowd and you weren’t one to date around. Not to mention, being pursued so earnestly was a new experience for you, one that seemed too good to be true. The first time he asked you out, you rejected him. You thought he would give up then, realize you were nothing special and you would go back to your sheltered life. That was what you grew to expect from others.

But unhindered, he persisted. Much to your astonishment, he snaked his way into your everyday life, chipping away at your walls piece by piece. When it rained, he had an umbrella waiting. When you cried, he had the tissues ready. Piece by piece, you let him see inside. You could never forget the moment when he finally succeeded and your resolve came crumbling down.

He was sitting right there, on the cushion not one arm’s length away from where you sit now. Mark was never shy about telling you that you were beautiful, that you were special, but this time he prepared a special weapon to win you over.

Mark sat there strumming his acoustic guitar, the one his big brother gave him for christmas, as he so excitedly boasted to you.

“This is a song I wrote about you,” he said, peering into your eyes. His voice was soft and he seemed shy for the first time. Fingers dancing on the strings, he was genuine and vulnerable in front of you. “Forever,” he sang and ‘forever’ you believed.

So you let yourself love him back.

You kissed him first, to his surprise. You mustered all the courage you had and you leaned over his instrument to cup his warm cheek, pressing your lips quickly to the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was short and you had missed a little, but your heart raced with anticipation. “How would he react?” you had worried to yourself afterwards. You had your doubts, that is, until he kissed you back.

Mark’s hands were laced through your hair as he brought you in again, this time deeper than the first. Moving his guitar onto the floor beside you, he pulled you into his lap and you kissed him back with all the love you had. It felt so natural, moving your lips against his and feeling his breath fan across your wet skin as he kissed a line down your neck.

You could still feel it, only now it burns.

He asked you to be his and you breathed a “yes” back. He kissed away your insecurities, insisting they made you all the more special. Piece by piece, then all at once, you gave yourself to him.

Days turned to weeks then months, you came back to your apartment together, kissing, loving, he always went out of his way for you. “This is it,” you thought, “he’s the one”.

You talked about him with your friends all the time, gushing about how good he was to you. Mark integrated into your friend group with ease and he got along especially well with your best friend, Haechan. When he met your mom, she wouldn’t stop praising how well mannered Mark was. In every way, he was perfect for you. And in every way, you believed he would be forever.

One of the things Mark always teased you about was your lack of a license. Most students your age had one now that you were in university, but you had yet to take the test out of fear. Mark let you drive his car around the parking lot and the two of you laughed at your jolting stops every time you hit a curb. You said you were scared, but he held your hand and told you it was okay. With his help, you drove the small white car around in circles until the fear went away.

You promised him that once you got your license, the first place you would go was his house since he always had to drive to yours. Mark’s face lit up in such a way that could only be pure joy and you kissed the night away. He said he couldn’t wait.

But, you guess, now he can.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

It was only so long before you came across your first problems. Part of it was your fault; you were foolish enough to believe that you would always be the most important one in his life. You’d grown so used to Mark’s special treatment and constant reassurance that when he treated you any different, you got so scared.

It was a saturday night and he wanted to bring you out to a party. You begged him to stay inside like you always did, just the two of you, but you could tell he really wanted to go.

“Can’t you go without me?,” you asked, lying next to him in your bed.

“I wanna show you off,” he whined back, pulling you into a suffocating hug.

“Ah, fine!,” you squealed, your chin wedged in the nape of his neck as he squeezed you tight. He pressed a dozen kisses all over you then.

“It’s not a big deal,” you thought, “this is the least I can do for him”.

When you showed up to the party, you stuck right by his side. You had never been to one before, the alcohol and drugs making you uncomfortable. The trap music blared loudly as sweaty, intoxicated students grinded on each other shamelessly. Unfamiliar men looked at you with hooded, lustful eyes and you pulled at the hem of your short dress in discomfort. Mark hardly regarded you except for a hand at your waist and chatted freely with his friends that you didn’t know.

You felt out of place. Even without drinking anything, it wasn’t long before the heat of the frat house made your head spin and you tugged at Mark’s arm to get his attention.

“Baby, I want to leave,” you pleaded.

“What? But we haven’t been here for even an hour, ___”. Mark looked so disappointed as you interrupted his drinking game.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I really don’t want to be here,” you insisted, hoping he would once again leave everything and come to you.

For the first time, he hesitated. And for the first time, you saw her.

“Mark!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the cacophony. A blonde girl headed over to you. She was tall, clearly older by the way she carried herself. Her skin glistened with sweat from the party, but it didn’t take away from her gorgeous features. Even as her makeup ran slightly, you took in her looks with a pang of envy.

“Oh, hey!,” Mark greeted, his hand leaving your waist to pull her into a hug. Your heart tugged with jealousy. The way she looked at him and the way he didn’t even seem to see you as he chatted with her made you sick to your stomach. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Turning around, you weaved your way through the crowd towards the exit. The cold night air greeted you as you opened the front door to leave. You shivered at the difference in temperature as you made your way quickly down the driveway. It felt so wrong to be walking away from Mark, but the emotions crowding your head made you take one step after the other.

All the rest of you begged for him to stop you, to run after you and reassure you like he always did. So when you felt his hand grip your elbow, spinning you around, tears streamed down your face in relief.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he apologized, hugging you close. It was so warm. “I’m sorry”.

And you forgave him so easily.

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

But that fight was the first of many. Each worse than the last - it started with bickering about little things like being late for dates or accidentally missing calls. Much to your greatest fear, Mark became noticeably slower to respond to your messages and always seemed to cancel your plans together, if you even made them anymore. Slowly, you found yourself sitting alone in your house more, waiting for him.

Still, you believed in him naively. Every couple fights, right? And he promised you forever. Just like every other time, he would come back to you and all would be well. You loved him like you’ve never loved anyone, even more than yourself.

But what you didn’t know was that you were pressing on the gas while Mark was slamming the brakes - your relationship became dysfunctional and before you could admit it, you were the only one hanging on.

You pressed too hard and everything exploded.

“We’re just friends, I don’t know what’s not clicking!,” Mark huffed angrily as he paced around your apartment kitchen.

“I’m not saying anything, all I mean is that I wish you’d told me that you were driving her home,” you reply, raising your voice slightly.

“You don’t own me, ___, I don’t have to tell you everything! What about you and Haechan, huh? You’re always hanging out with him and I never say anything!”. His voice was almost a shout, nothing like the loving tone he always used with you. He started packing up his things.

“Chan is my best friend, you know that,” you answer, voice breaking slightly as tears began to form.

Mark zipped up his bag, pausing to look up at you. His gaze was stiff, but it softened slightly at the sight of you. You could tell he was thinking about his next move. You thought it would be just like every other argument you had - he would pull you into his chest and the rhythmic beat of his heart would tell you he forgave you. After all, you had his promise of ‘forever’.

But this time, he turned away. He sauntered towards the door and with his hand on the handle, he fired his words like arrows to your heart.

“I think we need a break”

And just like that he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

One second, two, three.

You waited with your breath hitched in your throat for him to come back.

Four, five, six.

Tears dangled from the tip of your chin before splattering against the wooden floorboards as you listened for his footsteps to approach again.

They never did.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

And pictured I was driving home to you

That night left you utterly broken. You stood there in shock until the gravity of your pain brought you crashing down. Crying and crying more, you waited still for him to come back. Mark broke down your walls only to leave you defenseless - sheltering yourself was a good defense mechanism, one that was supposed to prevent you from being hurt like your dad did your mom.

In every way, you blamed yourself. You were never good enough for him and you never did nearly as much for him as he did you. A piece of work, that’s what you were. You didn’t deserve him and now he finally realized it.

You had cried all week, barely leaving your room to eat and go to class. You debated calling in sick, but even that cost energy you didn’t have. Checking your phone religiously, the pressure in your chest grew greater each time you saw he didn’t text or call.

Your last two messages were left unread: you’d asked him to call you to talk and you said you were sorry for doubting him.

Calling your friends was the only relief that came to you, but you felt bad for always bothering them. They didn’t have the words to comfort you. Well, there wasn’t anything they could say to comfort you.

But the final blow was yet to come.

Your phone buzzed with a message and your hand instinctively rushed to check it.

A message from Mark?

Your heart dropped when you saw it was only a calendar reminder.

“Driver’s License Test Today!”

You squeezed your eyes shut then as the memories of the times you spent practicing with Mark flooded back unwillingly. Shifting around in your cold bed, you wrapped yourself closer into the mess of sheets. He praised you as you got better, setting up the appointment himself.

“You can do it, babe,” he smiled at you widely from the passenger seat, “Once you get your license you can come over to my house all by yourself”. He leaned in close and you instinctively tilted your neck towards him to meet his lips. Kissing the sensetive spot where your jaw meets your ear, you let out a soft sigh of content. “And we can have so much fun”.

Struggling to ignore the stinging pain of the recollection, it took everything in you to muster the energy to go. Something in you still believed that maybe he would come back. Maybe he just needed time to think and he still meant forever. Maybe he was hurting just like you.

So you go to the dmv and you drive just like you practiced with Mark’s old white car, only this time with your own rental. The proctor ticked away at the boxes as you cruised around the familiar suburban streets. You’re glad he didn’t mention your puffy under eyes and slept-in hair.

“Alright, kiddo” the proctor finished signing the checklist as you pulled back into the original parking lot, “congrats! You passed!”.

You smiled and thanked him, but you didn’t feel happy. After the proctor hopped out of your car, you checked your phone to see you had a missed message. Heart racing, you unlock it quickly, hands shaking while you typed in your passcode. It had started to drizzle outside.

“___, I’ve been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we broke up. I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry”.

You dropped your phone.

Minutes must have passed before you could move a muscle. Rain pattered gray against your windshield and you watched as the droplets ran down and disappeared into the wipers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your body on autopilot, you start the car, the old engine skipping a few times before running smoothly. Hardly thinking, you cruised through the suburban neighborhoods outside of Seoul, not sure of where you were going, but needing to go somewhere.

“Mark,” you say to no one, “Mark”. The second one was barely a whisper. You repeated his name to yourself as the rain bore down harder, tears falling down onto your lap. Curling your fingers tighter around the steering wheel, you sped down to the only place you knew to go.

“What the hell,” the boy at the door stated, staring bewildered at your soaking form. You sobbed, raindrops mixing with your tears so it was unclear which was which. Lighting cracked in the dark sky, followed by the inevitable rumble of thunder. Your car was pulled over the side of the road and you stood shivering pitifully in front of your best friend.

Haechan took you inside, offering you a towel and dry clothes while you said nothing, not trusting your voice to handle words. Of course, the two of you were close enough to understand this and he offered you silence back.

You cried into his lap as he patted you on the arm. The fireplace crackled in the background, but you still felt so cold.

“He broke up with me,” you hiccupped out finally, grabbing onto his hands for dear life. You hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and the words left your throat like knives.

“That son of a bitch,” Haechan cursed, letting you grip onto him, not saying anything about the pain.

“I-I,” your body shook as you hiccupped uncontrollably. He shushed you, stroking your hair with his other hand to calm you down.

You took deep breaths, closing your eyes to try to pacify your trembling sobs and make the pain go away.

“It hurts,” you finally managed, “It hurts so bad”.

Haechan squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. Just like that, he held you for hours until his legs went numb and your small gasps calmed into steady breathing. Still, he didn’t move.

“One day,” he softly broke the silence, brushing invisible circles on the back of your hand, “it’ll all pass. You might think he’s everything right now, but if he wasn’t ready to love all of you, he doesn’t deserve you”.

And it was after letting those words sink in that you slowly began to notice the warmth of the fireplace.

Red lights

Stop signs

I still see your face

In the white cars

Front yards

Can't drive past the places

We used to

Go to

'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

You drifted asleep on his lap then, peacefully. When you awoke, your best friend was no longer in your embrace and you blinked to remember where you were. For a second, just a small second, you forgot about what happened the day before.

Shifting up to a sitting position, you stretched your sore neck and looked around to Haechan in the kitchen. A sizzling noise accompanied by the alluring smell of bacon wafted over. Your stomach grumbled - it had been a few days since you’d had the appetite to eat something.

You made your way to the familiar kitchen, one you had spent many days hanging out in. Haechan tilted his head towards the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“You’re awake?”

You nodded in response. He wore a floral apron as he cooked, his hair still messy from sleep. For the first time in a while, you smiled.

After breakfast, he let you drive to school.

“I didn’t know you got your license,” the boy remarked as he buckled in.

“I did. Just yesterday”. Your voice was still slightly hoarse from crying. With your best attempts in Haechan’s bathroom, you washed the tears from your face. You hoped you could pretend you were okay.

But as you drove along, you passed the house that you had so temporarily forgotten about. The white car parked outside of Mark’s home pierced your chest with dull pain as you remembered the promises you made together.

“That’s cool. Did you finish the bio project?,” Haechan made his best attempt at capturing your attention, understanding what was going through your head.

You couldn’t reply.

Sidewalks

We crossed

I still hear your voice

In the traffic

We're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue

Know we're through

But I still fucking love you, babe

The rest of the ride was silent as you struggled to keep it together. You thought about how Mark used to kiss you whenever there was a red light, leaning across the dash to tell you he loved you. You used to laugh at the ticklish feeling of his fingers feeling around your jaw to get a better angle to your lips, squealing at him to go when the light changed green.

You felt numb as you sat in your morning bio lecture, heeding no attention to your professor’s voice. Haechan sat next to you, observing your pained expression with concern.

“___, you okay?”

The question only makes you feel worse and you lean your chin weakly against his shoulder. You let out a small whimper, lips trembling as you hid your face in his neck. Grabbing your hand, he led you out of the dark lecture hall. You didn’t have the energy to ask where you were going as he pulled you out of the university science building.

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” Haechan directed. You obliged.

Seoul traffic picked up and the two of you sat listening to the radio.

“You wanna go get coffee?,” your best friend asked.

You didn’t answer, listening to the melody of the acoustic music playing on the radio. It reminded you of the song Mark wrote about you all those months ago. Haechan accepted your silence as affirmation and he pulled into a quaint café lot. A white car is parked in front of yours and you think you’re seeing things because it looks like Mark’s. Everything seemed to remind you of him.

You didn’t notice that Haechan got out of the car until he held your door open for you. Numbly, you step out, not taking your eyes off the white vehicle.

It was Mark’s.

Haechan realized the same too late and you were already staring through the café window. There he sat, the person you’ve been dying to see and hear from. Mark sat there and across from him, you recognized the blonde from the party. He left her for you then, but now you couldn’t say the same.

He looked so happy, happier than he was with you in the last months of your relationship, his smile reaching his eyes and his nose scrunching up as he laughed at something she said. Mark’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. You don’t miss how his hand gripped the edge of the chair behind her back so his arm was almost around her shoulders.

He looked so okay without you.

Haechan pulled you under the small café umbrella as it started to drizzle. You were turned away from the window, out of sight from Mark, but the image was already burned into the back of your head.

“What am I supposed to do, chan?,” you whimpered, letting your tears soak into the taller boy’s chest as he hugged you close, “I still fucking love him”.

This time, he didn’t answer as you gripped onto his tee shirt. He didn't have to as you remembered your best friend’s words from the night before: “It’ll all pass”.

“It’ll all pass,” you thought desperately, although you felt like the sidewalk would swallow you whole. “It’ll all pass,” you repeated, this time out loud, the words feeling like cement as you sobbed into your best friend’s shirt.

It started to rain harder before Haechan spoke, his voice rumbling in his chest against your cheek, “It’ll all be okay one day, I promise”. You held onto these words for dear life.

…

Switching off the television, you shuffle out of the living room to get ready for bed. It’s been a week since then and you still repeat Haechan’s words to yourself every night. They serve as your only consolation to fight against the knowledge that Mark found somebody new. Somebody that isn’t you is making him happy now. Somebody that isn’t you is hearing that they’re special, that they’re beautiful.

Still, you pressed the band-aids to your bullet hole.

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you turn your bedside light off, “It’ll pass one day”. The promises wash around your head until sleep invites you in and finally the dull pain of being awake can be ignored.

The bright light of morning came as a surprise, waking you from your slumber. You shield the golden rays from your eyes with a tired hand, although welcoming the rare sunshine in a month filled with rain. Birds sing their weekend song as you stretch the sleep from your bones. For the first time in a while, your room appeared bright.

Brushing your teeth, you make a peace sign in the mirror at your messy hair. Letting out a single chuckle, you flop your atrocious bun to the other side. For the first time in a while, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel quite as painful. Spitting out your toothpaste foam, you take the time to cleanse your face properly, patting on your favorite moisturizer after.

You brush through the tangles in your hair, looking at your reflection, taking in the first image of yourself trying to heal. It isn’t a lot, but it’s everything.

Strolling to the kitchen, you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Munching away, you pull open the living room curtains, letting the morning light stream in. There you stand, watching the bumblebees rub against the pink flowers to drink their nectar.

“Cheers,” you whisper, raising your spoon up to the window before bringing it to your lips. Finishing the simple meal, you debate what to do next.

You look to the couch, wondering if it would be okay to sit and waste your day away with netflix. Just then, you feel a buzz from your back pocket.

“____, you free?” the message reads. It’s from Haechan.

You reply that you are and he asks you to come over to hang out together. Looking to the couch then back to your phone, you head down to the door to grab your keys and your license. Before you leave, you pause, looking at the cluttered letters collecting dust on the countertop. Before the door clicks shut behind you, they’re in the trash and the counter smells of lemon disinfectant.

The weather is so nice. You feel the warmth against your face as you walk down to your car. It’s not the rental anymore because Haechan helped you find a used one that you could afford. It’s bright red, your favorite color, and it doesn’t skip when you start the engine.

You cruise down the suburban streets with the windows down to feel the fresh breeze play with your hair. It smells like cut grass and petrichor.

Turning onto the familiar street, you expect your heart to clench at the sight of Mark’s house, but it doesn’t. You press the gas pedal a little harder as you speed past the white car parked in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, you drive past his street.

Maybe it hurts a little, but you don’t cry anymore. You turn the wheel smoothly as you pull onto a different road, just like the way you always practiced. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’re always thankful for the time you had with him. You turn the radio to your favorite channel, letting your body sway to the relaxing guitar tune. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’ll always love the song he wrote about you. Even if Mark doesn’t mean it anymore, someone new could.

Following the route you now have memorized, you steer into your best friend’s neighborhood.

Maybe you’re driving alone, but it doesn’t hurt so much. Not when there’s someone waiting for you.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

Yeah, you said forever now I drive alone past your street

183 notes · View notes

depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

5 times Leo hit on Calypso as her Barista and one time it worked

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Coffee Shop AU! Calypso is running late one day so she ends up going to a coffee shop- what she doesn’t expect is for her barista to be Bad boy supreme

Later on in this fic, they sing this song.

Warnings?: Not much, terrible pick up lines, mainly fluff, making out.

A/N: This took me so long but alas, here it is! This is kinda my first official fluff and I tried okay. Anyway, enjoy, comment, share, like- you know the drill. <3 from moi!

The 1st Thursday

Calypso was not happy with the line she was waiting in. She was running late and thus was at a coffee shop- somewhere she preferred not to go. The weather was terrible, grey skies as well as heavy rain that had Calypso drenched. The stupid forecast hadn’t predicted the rain and thus she had left her apartment without an umbrella nor raincoat.

The coffee shop was small but cute, she had to admit. The staff seemed small but efficient and within a few minutes, Calypso found herself at the front of the line, face to face with a boy with rich dark tan skin and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. He had long dimples and his dark curly hair would flop over his face in a cute manner.

“Hi, Welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Super sized Mcshizzle and I will be taking your order today, do you have your order ready?” He looked up at the girl in front of him and immediately, his lips stretched into a lazy and goofy smile. She frowned at the nickname but internally she wanted to laugh, even his name badge read Super Sized Mcshizzle- Who called themselves that?

“Can I get a cappuccino with 2 espresso shots, please.” She reached into her bag to pull out her purse while the boy at the counter hummed and tapped at the machine in front of him.

“What kind of milk?” He looked up again, cheekily smiling as if he had something planned.

“Uh, almond is fine.”

“And your name?” He asked, pulling out a marker. Before she could answer, he cut in.

“Does your name start with a C-”

“-Actually it doe-”

“-Because I can C us together.”

Calypso resisted the urge to smile and instead raised an eyebrow at the horribly cheesy pick up line. Despite this, she was a bit impressed- Her name did technically start with a C.

“Calypso. That’s my name,” She told him as she walked away from the counter and sat at one of the stalls, waiting for her name to be called out.

The 2nd Thursday

Somehow, Calypso found herself queuing outside the same coffee shop the next Thursday. Whilst she told herself it was because the coffee was perfect, it was truly to see the brown haired grinning boy who had served her last week. Pick up lines weren’t really her poison, but he wasn’t creepy and even she had to admit it- He was cute.

As the queue grew shorter, she grabbed her purse ready to pay. She had subconsciously chosen to wear better clothes and style her hair today. Was it a stupid decision to wear white when drinking coffee? Absolutely. But Calypso was 100% willing to take the risk.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Bad Boy Supreme and I will be taking your order today, do you have an order ready?” The boy looked up, with his hair flopping about. He had rolled his sleeves up and Calypso, who wasn’t about to get caught, quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She noticed that his name had changed- so had his badge. Did he have a collection of these names? She’d have to ask him next time.

Oh, so there will be a next time, huh? She asked herself.

Shut up.

“Oh. Calypso, right? Same as last time?” He asked as he hovered his finger over the machine.

“Oh, yeah. Cappuccino please.”

As she waited for her name to be called out, she pulled out her sketchbook and started sketching the cute barista. From his elf like ears to his slanted chocolate eyes and the funny curl that went in the complete opposite direction of his hair earning him a messy hair look. It was only a basic sketch but it had outlined him.

“Cappuccino for Calypso?” a familiar voice called out. She was slightly surprised to find her Barista also handing off her coffee but she also quite flattered. Or maybe she was just overthinking this. He could easily just have switched around for a friend- it can’t have been just for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she reached into her purse, trying to find the appropriate change in her purse.

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” The pick up line rolled off his tongue as he leant over the counter separating them. He had a smirk that made Calypso immediately lose her strong front and spill her change all over the counter.

“What?!” she sputtered as her eyes darted to the change. She managed to scoop most of it into her arms without looking too much like a fool. She quickly grabbed her coffee and made her way out of the shop as fast as she possibly could, hoping she didn’t look as ridiculous as she thought she did.

The 3rd Thursday

“You don’t understand, last time the pick up line was creepy. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now!” Leo groaned as he slammed his head on the counter beside his friend Will who always worked the same shift as him. Unfortunately, Will did not get to witness what Leo kept on describing as ‘a catastrophe’.

“She won’t come in today, I bet. Ugh, I really screwed up.”

“It really can’t have been that bad!” Will argued, dragging Leo by the arm to the front counter.

“I said You and I are like nachos with Jalapenos. I’m super cheesy, you’re super hot and we belong together.”

Will cringed. “Okay, that is bad.”

Calypso could not believe she was coming back to the coffee shop. The previous pick up line was terrible, in fact it was almost as bad as the ‘I’m here, what are your other two wishes’ pick up line that a creepy person had used on her earlier but in all honesty it wasn’t the barista that was the problem. It was the fact that she could not crush over someone with pickup lines as bad as those. This time, she had decided to use her card to pay so she wouldn’t have to deal with spilt change everywhere.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Commander tool Belt- that’s because my major is engineering and I fixed the old coffee machine- how can I help you?” The curly haired boy in front of her said miserably while slumped behind the counter with his face practically leaning on the machine.

“I was hoping for the usual?” Her meek voice came out questioning. Leo’s head shot off the counter, almost slamming into the machine.

“Wow… uh cappuccino again?”

“Yep…” she searched for something to say. “So engineering major huh?”

“Mhmm. I like making things I guess. What about you?”

“Natural sciences. I was going to do art but I guess plants and animals are more of my poison.” She shrugged.

“You can draw?” he asked, his voice peaking interest and turning around slightly.

“Yes, why do you sound so surprised at that?”

He batted his hand. “Oh nothing, just something we have in common.” He then winked and Calypso had to do everything she could to not react. She stood in front of the counter, waiting for her coffee but saw that her barista was screwing his eyes up and writing something on a cup. She wanted to pull out her sketchbook and draw the cute face he was pulling, leaning back and holding the cup in front of him as if it were an invention he had never seen.

“Cappuccino for Calypso!” A sing-song voice that could only be her barista called out. She had to admit, his voice was not bad. In fact, it was quite impressive and it had a nice harmonious tune to it.

“Thank you…” she said in a suspicious tone, as she swiped her card over the contactless payment machine. Her barista was suspiciously silent and she had yet to hear a terrible pick up line. He had a mischievous smile as if he had set something on fire and not told anyone anything about it. As she picked up her coffee, she noticed a lot more black marker on the cup and held it away from her face to read it.

Are you made of Copper and tellurium? Because you are CuTe.

She wanted to face palm at such a classic science pun but she was also impressed that he knew elements of the periodic table so easily. She let out a small laugh to let him know that she had noticed the pick up line before she took a small sip and smiled.

The 4th Thursday

“I’m telling you, she actually laughed at the line! That’s a good thing right?” Leo asked as he put on his apron.

“And I’m telling you, if you want her to go out with you, hit her with a star wars pun,” Will ugred while tying his apron behind his back.

“You’re obsessed with star wars.”

“Hey, it worked for me and Nico!” Will pointed out as they made their way to the counter.

“Sun boy, we all know you and Mr Debbie Downer did not get together over Star Wars pick up lines,” Leo argued.

Calypso was running late. She hated being late. It was like slowly ticking off the boxes for panic 101. She was wearing mismatched socks, had the wrong books for class and the laces of her shoes were untied. At least the line was significantly shorter than usual and while normally that would have made Calypso question the occasion, she was too much in a rush to truly care.

As she ran in, she tripped over her laces and almost fell had it not been for the arms of the person in front of her. As she looked up to find her saviour, she found herself face to face with the curly brown haired boy who today wore the badge of ‘Admiral Leo’. She thought Leo was a nice name and it suited him very well- much better than any other name would have.

“Hey, tie your shoes!” he scolded her and she was surprised by his concern over her safety. Alas, she had spoken too soon,

“I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” he murmured, his lips right by her ear and his hot breath making goosebumps form all across her neck. He then reached down onto his knees, and did her laces. However, she noticed the manner he did them were different to how she would normally do them.

“You know that’s how children do their laces, right?” Her hands rested on her hips as he gasped dramatically and held his hand over his heart.

“Are you calling me a child?”

Before she could say yes, he cut her off.

“The answer is I totally am a child because that means I can eat off the child menu,” He grinned foolishly. “Life hacks with Admiral Leo!”

The 5th Thursday

“I’m telling you Leo- Make the Star Wars pun. Please! For me, do it for me!” Will begged as he tied Leo’s apron for him. Leo was reluctant to go with a Star Wars pun. He didn’t know if Calypso would get it or if she was into nerdy stuff like that but he was running out of ideas. He hadn’t gotten any terrible sparks of inspiration and the Star Wars inspired pun that Will had told him couldt go too badly?

Nervously, Leo waited behind the counter, his hands tapping as if he had just slapped on a nicotine patch and then glugged 6 espresso’s. In other words, Leo was anxious. If he just made the drinks without thinking about it, he could get his mind off it but when he started remembering that she may walk in at any moment, he could feel his hands shake and his stomach begin to churn.

Calypso was very happy. She had no classes today, no research studies to deal with and she had even managed her time well enough to hang out with a friend before heading towards her newly found and now favourite coffee shop. She knew it was it because of a certain curly haired and cheekily grinning boy.

“Hello, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee, I’m Flaming Valdez- don’t ask please- how can I assist you today?” He once again looked up and when seeing Calypso, he recited her order before the words could come out of her mouth.

“Cappuccino with 2 espresso shots and almond milk?”

Calypso, a bit shocked, nodded. She could feel small butterflies forming in her stomach thinking about how Leo had memorised her order.

Stop being silly. He probably memorises every regular’s order.

“Soo… Flaming Valdez… what’s the story behind that?” She asked, despite his warning. Leo tipped his head back and let out a throaty laugh that had Calypso tingling all over- How can a person have such a gorgeous laugh? How can someone look so good while laughing?

“Oh, that’s a good story. Every year, we celebrate the owners birthday by having the shop to ourselves. No customers, just the staff chilling. Anyway, so it’s like 9pm and we’re all meant to be out because it was sunset an hour ago but instead we’re still in the shop. Everyone’s gathered right out there because your boy, Flaming Valdez, brought in Roman candles!” Leo pointed to the chairs and tables outside the shop.

“Roman candles?” Calypso asked, a tad confused. Her face scrunched up a bit and Leo almost died from how cute her face looked.

“They’re like fireworks. There’s a slight difference with how the shell explodes compared to fireworks and they are a much more traditional version of fireworks but…” He trailed off when he noticed Calypso’s confused face- he just managed to remember that she wasn’t a nerd like him and didn’t study fireworks in her freetime.

“Anyway, Will has the red ones and I have the green ones and so we literally start shooting them at each other like we’re re-enacting Harry Potter or something!”

“What! Can’t someone get set on fire from that?”

“Well yeah actually, they can. Will shoots one at me, sparks at my hair and sets it on fire. I’m running around trying to stop my burning hair while everyone is laughing. The crowd started cheering ‘Flaming Valdez’ and since then, they’ve adopted me that name. I’ve tried to get them to change it but it seems to stick,” he laughed while making her coffee.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seemed to notice. Super sized Mcshizzle, Bad boy supreme, Commander tool belt, Admiral Leo and today- Flaming Valdez.” She listed all the names he would wear on his badges off her fingers. However, that may have been a mistake because when she looked up, she saw Leo shooting her a sly grin that made the butterflies start going crazy in her stomach again.

“So you remember my names, huh?”

“It’s the nice thing to do,” she defended, a blush rising on her cheeks as she reached for some napkins.

Leo took a deep breath- he couldn’t believe that he was going to use Will’s Star Wars pick up line.

“Do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” The words practically rolled off his tongue and Calypso froze before breaking in laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore- this was by far the funniest of all the pick up lines he had used. She pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on her sketchpad before ripping it out.

Leo, distraught, watched as she laughed at the pick up line. He should have listened to his gut and never made the pick up line. Oh gosh, he looked like an absolute loser now. Who makes Star Wars puns other than nerds? He handed Calypso the coffee and watched as she quickly left.

He noticed the sketch she had left behind, it looked oddly familiar. In fact, he could have sworn it looked just like him. She had been sketching him everytime she waited for her coffee. He traced finger gently over the outline of his face, smiling. She had drawn everything in such detail, he felt like he was looking in the mirror but at the same time he felt she had facetuned him and made him look.. Well, perfect. Did she think he needed all these faults fixed? Or was this just how she saw him? She somehow made every flaw seem gorgeous and beautiful and he didn’t know how to feel as he looked at the bottom of the sketch.

His eyes widened as he read the note left at the bottom of the sketch.

Hey Leonidas (your co-worker told me that). Here’s my number - 07669833256.

P.S- Star Wars puns ALWAYS work.

Yours truly, Calypso

“Leo? Are you good?” Will stopped to ask him.

“Star Wars puns always work- you were right,” he said starstruck.

The Next Friday

“Mamacita, get off those tables, I need to clean them,” Leo huffed, holding a spray bottle threateningly and a cloth in his other hand. Calypso, giggling and giddy hopped off the table. She watched as Leo quickly sprayed it down before wiping it.

“Are you checking me out?” Leo’s smug voice cut through Calypso’s thoughts, snapping her out of mind. Her initial reaction was to stutter and wildly deny it however today at 7pm, she felt more bold than usual and decided to tease him a bit.

“So what if I was?”

Leo almost froze at the bold response, not expecting the reaction from her. They’d been officially going out for one week and so far, Calypso had been quite shy. A kiss on the cheek here and there, a bit of innocent flirting but no one had really openly confessed their feelings. It was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other but they seemed determined to have the other say it first.

“Well if you were… " He turned around to see her smirking with both hands on her hips. He was not losing to Calypso- he would make her confess her feelings first if it was the last thing he did. She sat herself on the counter behind her and beckoned Leo forward with her finger. He raised an eyebrow at the bold move but obliged.

Leo stood between Calypso’s thighs, his hands slipping around her waist. Their faces were close enough that if Calypso and Leo both moved their head slightly forward, they’d be kissing. Funnily enough, they both had started eating mints and chewing gum whenever they’d be with each other as if they were planning the moment.

“I still can’t believe those pick up lines worked,” Calypso sighed, her hands moving onto Leo’s shoulders, comfortably rubbing them back and forth.

“Bad Boy supreme is very much offended by those comments.”

“Nu uh. Ever since that blond co-worker of yours told me that your full name is Leonidas...” She paused to unsuccessfully hold in a small laugh. “...That your name is Leonidas, it’s been Leonidas and it will always be Leonidas to me.”

“Not even Leo?” He asked, his eyes entering puppy eyes mode. Calypso remained unimpressed and shook her head. Their eyes locked and they could feel each other's thoughts. Just as their heads were leaning in,the radio behind the counter bugged out and static started blaring everywhere. Calypso wanted to curse god- of coure something just had to ruin the moment. Immediately, the two students shoved their hands over their ears and Leo jumped over the counter to quickly fix the horrendous noise. A few minutes later, About Love by Marina started softly playing through the cafe’s speakers.

The moment seemed like it was manufactured for a movie. The beautiful sunset on the horizon, the romantic music and most of all, Leo’s playful smile as he held his hand out asking Calypso to dance. She, of course, accepted and the two twirled about in each other's arms. They weren’t very good and they kept on stepping on each other's toes but eventually they got into a position where Leo’s hands were wrapped around her waist and Calypso’s arms were thrown around Leo’s neck.

Leo watched as Calypso closed eyes and softly sang the words to the song under her breath.

“Started in the strangest way, didn’t see it coming.”

Leo started singing with her, “My head gets messy when I try to hide.”

“The things I love about you in my mind” Their voices were harmonious and in sync.

“I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot about love, a lot about love but you’re in my head, you’re my blood and it feels so good, it hurts so much.” Calypso had her head leaning on Leo’’s chest and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart quicken.

“Shall I take this as your confession of love to me?” He murmured into her hair. Calypso shot her head up so fast that she almost butted Leo in the chin.

“Hell no, Leonidas.”

Yet, as she said those words, her face leaned upwards towards Leo with her intense gaze falling to his lips. They looked soft, supple even and she felt so tempted to reach out and brush them. In fact, she felt so tempted to touch them that she didn’t even notice her actual hand reaching out to brush against his bottom lip.

Leo had to physically restrain himself from shivering when he felt Calypso’s finger brush over his bottom lip, dragging it back slightly before slowly setting her hand at the side of his face. Slowly, like they were two magnets slowly attracting each other, they leaned in. When they were practically breathing in each other's face, Leo decided to spring one more pick up line on Calypso.

“Did you know that my lips are skittles?” Leo cut in quickly. Calypso quickly frowned, not catching on. Leo continued, “ And you’re about to taste the rainbow.”

Calypso groaned, throwing her head back while Leo giggled to himself. Sick of chasing each other, Calypso grabbed Leo’s face with both her hands and smashed her lips into his, abruptly shutting him up. To say Leo was surprised would be the understatement of the year. He was in a true state of panic, thinking what he should do with his hands, his lips, his entire being. Her lips moved against his, encouraging him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, both of them moving up her back, pulling her into the kiss.

They pulled away for a brief second, looking each other in the eye before slamming their lips back together. Had anyone walked in on them, it would have only been appropriate to say that they were devouring each other- their lips pushed and their hands pulled. Their lips moved in sync and Calypso weaved her hands into Leo’s curls. It was demonically passionate as their tongues slipped across each other's lips. The heat of the kiss spread across Calypso’s face- the blush was so obvious, she felt like her lips were on fire. Nothing could have stopped them, not even if the entire world was on fire.

As they pulled away, Calypso had one more trick up her sleeve.

“As far I’m concerned, the rainbow tasted pretty damned good,” She remarked, referencing to Leo’s previous pick up line.

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samingtonwilson · 4 years

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Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket”

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese.

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched.

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy.

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow.

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this.

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese.

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make.

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space.

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket.

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you.

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey.

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp.

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet.

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him.

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile.

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s.

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure.

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese.

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones.

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you.

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.”

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.”

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer.

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

#this reader is a human disaster #dkjfgdkjgj #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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