#winterbreakadvent2324

He spent too much time with his friends, especially his lady friend, Rachel. You never liked the blonde. Maybe it was only your imagination, or your jealous streak telling you she’s after your man.

It’s not the first time you have tried to talk to Ari and make him see that Rachel is not interested in being only friends with your boyfriend. She always plays nice around Ari, but the looks she gives you tell a different story. Her smile is sugar-sweet, but her eyes give the truth away.

Rachel wants your man, and you are fairly sure you just drove Ari into her welcoming arms. His smile and soft kisses will be hers from now on, and you will be left outside alone once again.

You sniffle and kneel next to the broken picture frame. Your fingers tremble when you try to part the shards from the picture of you and Ari. The frame is broken in the middle, just like your heart.

Ari will turn his back on you due to a stupid fight. The waitress at the bar called Rachel and Ari a cute pair. You tried not to take it to heart that he danced with Rachel at the bar and paid for her drinks. But the waitress’s comment was too much.

You stormed out of the bar, walking away when Ari called your name. He followed you home and tried to talk to you but you started a fight. All the pent-up anger you held back for so long broke free.

The last thing you said was that if he wants Rachel, he should go to her and never come back. And he just did that. He looked at you for a moment, shook his head, and stormed out of your house.

That was around three hours ago and since then, you couldn’t move, or think. You just stared at the picture frame, feeling like you were frozen in time.

“I let her win,” you choke out a sob. “I let that bitch win!”

You get back up and step over the broken frame. If you lost Ari tonight, you need something to numb the pain. Anything…

“Ari,” you sniffle as you end up on voicemail once again. “Ari, I’m a little drunk. Baby, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go to her. I want you here.”

You sigh deeply. “Ari?? Can you hear me?” You slur into the phone. “Baby? I’m all alone and I need you here. Please?”

You sigh deeply as you hang up the phone. With trembling fingers, you dial his number again.

“Ari…I’m mad at you for leaving me here. I hate drinking, you know that,” you scrunch up the nose. “It tastes like old socks. But not yours. I bet yours would taste good. Even your sweat tastes good.”

You hang up the phone only to dial his number again. “I forgot to tell you that I hate that woman. She always looks at me like she wants to kill me only because I love you. That’s it. I won’t call again.”

This time you turn off your phone and throw it onto your bed. You give up. Ari won’t answer your calls and you are sure, it’s because he’s with Rachel now.

Why not? No one is keeping him from being with the woman he wants. You gave him permission to be with Rachel. It’s your own fault.

If only you weren’t such a fool sometimes…

“Y/N? Peanut?” Ari stumbles into your house. He desperately calls your name, searching for you in every room. “BABY? I’m worried. Please make a noise. Y/N, are you alive?”

He jogs upstairs, almost tripping over his feet as he tries to check the rooms upstairs.

“Peanut? BABE!!” He looks inside the bathroom, huffing as your clothes lie splattered on the ground. Ari grins and snaps a picture before walking toward the bedroom. “Y/N?”

Ari sneaks inside the room, tiptoeing toward the bed only to find you curled up on his side of the bed. You’re cradling three of his shirts in your arms and snore lightly. “So, the lady doesn’t snore, huh?” He grins and gets out his phone to film you. “I’ll so tease you for this.”

“Ari…” you murmur in your sleep and hold the shirts even tighter. “Asshole.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” he grunts as he kicks off his shoes. “I’ll talk about your fecal language with your later, Y/N. You little stubborn peanut.”

While you mutter in your sleep, Ari joins you on the bed. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your hair. “Ari.”

“I’m sorry for leaving. I was mad at myself, not you. You were right all along. Rachel is not a good friend. When I came to her tonight to convince her to come with me and tell you that you don’t need to worry about her being into me she told me the truth.”

“Ari?” Your eyes snap open when you feel someone press himself against your back. “Please tell me it’s you.”

“Hey, Peanut?” He grins when you turn your head to look at him. “What did you drink? You called me fifteen times. I was already on my way back.”

“UH-I butt-called you,” you lie. The last thing you want is to let Ari get away with his behavior easily. “Maybe you have mistaken me with your lady friend.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to fight again. I’m sorry, okay. Please believe me that I only love you. Rachel was a friend to me, nothing else.”

“You danced with her, Ari! That waitress believed you were Rachel’s boyfriend, not mine,” you sniffle and angrily wipe your eyes. “I don’t want to fight but for you to see that I was hurt.”

“Baby…you’re right. I was wrong,” he gives you a cracked smile. “I told her that we cannot be friends if she wants to get in my pants. Then she tried to jump at me.”

“What? I’ll scratch her eyes out!” You square your jaw. “Let me kill her.”

“That’s my girl,” Ari grins proudly. “Don’t worry, Peanut. I told her to get lost and that I’m going to go home to my girl, kiss her, and tell her that I was a fool.”

“Good for your girl,” you relax in his arms. “I hope you know that I won’t forgive you so easily…”

She watches you glance at the cupcake. You sniffle and try not to cry. This stranger showed more interest in you and your birthday than anyone else in your life.

“Thank you,” is all you get out. You blow the candle out, wishing for nothing but to not feel the aching in your chest any longer. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetie. You’re my best and favorite customer,” she smiles and refills your cup. “Chamomile, your favorite.”

“Again, thank you,” you fake a smile. She’s so kind, and you don’t want to be ungrateful. “This made my day.”

“I’ll bring you your order later. Eat the cupcake and remember, not all days are bad. One day the sun will shine for all of us again.”

Damn her, she read you like a book. “I guess,” you drop your eyes and look at the cupcake again. “It just doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It will,” she insists and walks off, whistling a tune.

“Maybe—” you swallow thickly when the man you had hoped to never see again waltzes into the café, smirking like nothing has changed. He holds the door open for two girls, and two of his buddies. “Why?”

This can’t be. Today out of all days he had to come here. Your favorite café. Ransom always hated it and now he’s here, on your birthday after he broke your heart.

He straightens his hair and puffs his chest. Showing off his expensive coat and the scarf you bought him for his birthday. He looks like a peacock wanting to impress the ladies. You giggle as he looks stupidly handsome and like an idiot at the same time.

His eyes dart from the table the waitress orders toward your table. For a moment, it looks like he stiffens when his eyes meet yours. He clears his throat, and turns away, acting like he didn’t see you sitting alone at the table.

“Hey, Ransom,” one of his buddies punches his upper arm, “isn’t that the mouse you dated some months ago?” The guy points at your table. You try to ignore him, and the girls looking in your direction.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ransom snaps at his friend, adding another crack to your fragile heart. He can’t even admit that he used to date you. “I don’t date girls like her.”

“Dude, it’s her,” the other man insists. “I remember the pout and her mousish behavior. I bet she must be a bomb in the bedroom, if not you wouldn’t keep a girl like her around.”

“Listen, I don’t know that woman. Can we eat now, or do you want to ask me if I dated half of the people at the café,” Ransom gets louder, making you flinch.

He seems to be embarrassed by his friend’s question. Of course, he’s ashamed of dating you. You’re not one of his wealthy buddies or the spoiled girls hanging on his every word.

You exhale sharply as he continues to explain that he would never date someone like you. He even makes fun of the sweater you’re wearing. Even though he told you he found it cute not so long ago.

Self-cautiously you look down on your body, regretting that you decided to wear your favorite blue sweater with snowflakes today. You try to look away, or not listen to their words, but it’s impossible to not see Ransom staring your way.

“Sweetie, I got you birthday cake,” right when you want to flee out of the café, the waitress returns with three of her colleagues. They start singing Happy Birthday, and the lump in your throat grows.

The guests at the café get up to join the waitresses. They sing Happy Birthday and clap their hands, making things worse for you.

Ransom and his friends get up too, laughing and joking as they pretend to sing with the other people. You’re close to running out of the café and leaving town to forget about this awful birthday.

A few weeks ago, you were in love and believed you’d spend your birthday with Ransom.

 Now you are in the same room, but miles apart.

You’re living in different worlds, and this will never change. He’s got a huge trust fund, and you struggle to make ends meet sometimes. When you met Ransom he knew that you still got to pay back your study loan.

“That’s,” your voice cracks when they place a birthday cake in front of you. “Very nice. I-I’m overwhelmed.”

“I hope you enjoy your cake,” one of the waitresses sing-songs. She smiles, and hands you a fork. “It’s a red velvet cake. Your favorite.”

People sit back down and finally turn their attention toward their lives. You release a shuddery breath as the waitresses and some guests expectantly look at you. “That’s a beautiful cake,” you sniff. “But I already got the cupcake.”

“It’s a gift from one of the customers,” Dolores whispers. “We got instructions to serve you the cake when you come here today.”

“What? I don’t understand. Why would anyone buy a cake for me? I don’t know many people in town.”

“Well sweetie, he must be wealthy,” the waitress from earlier giggles. “This is the most expensive cake and he wanted extras. Just enjoy.”

“I rather not,” you doubt whoever bought the cake wanted to be nice. Gifts always come at a price. And you are not willing to be in anyone’s debt. “Can you take it back? Maybe tell the person who ordered the cake for me they can eat it.”

“Sorry, no returns,” she coos and points at the cake. “Dig in, miss. It’s free and very delicious. Look, the cook used leaf gold for the decoration. You don’t want us to throw it away, right?”

“No.” You hate this. All of it. Someone bought you a cake and expects you to eat it, just like the waitresses. “I’ll try it later.”

“She still got the cupcake. Maybe she can take the cake home,” Dolores jumps in. She offers to put the cake in a box for you to take the cake home. “Right, sweetie. You will take it home.”

Dolores tells the others to go back to work. She gives you a sympathetic look and walks away to get the box.

You shift in your seat and try to focus on the cupcake and your now cold tea. It’s not how you imagined spending your birthday but it’s better than to hide at your apartment and think about Ransom, and your breakup.

Ransom watches you eat the cupcake. He frowns as Dolores puts the cake in a box. You don’t look his way any longer. You finish your cupcake and drink your tea. When you get up to leave, you thank Dolores and reluctantly take the box with the cake.

It takes all of your strength, but you manage to pass Ransom’s table by and not look at him. You exhale sharply as one of his friends calls you mouse and cups his crotch.

“Y/N, open the door!” Ransom is fuming outside of your apartment. “Why did you refuse to eat the cake I ordered for you? I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Like bringing these people to our place? How could you, Ran? How?” You sniffle. “You walked around the café I showed to you like a peacock to impress these women. Why did you come to the café? And why did you buy the cake?”

“Babycakes,” he sighs deeply. “I’m…we…I let their words get to me. I was a fool to believe I could spend a day without you.”

“You laughed about me at the café!”

“Please let me in,” he pleads. “I came to the café to talk to you, knowing you’ll be there. Frankie and the others waited outside. I must’ve talked about this place, and they wanted to try it out. I’m sorry for their behavior.”

“Just go away, and take that cake with you,” you open the door to push the box with cake into his hands. “We are done, just like you said.”

“I said we should take a break to think about our relationship,” he looks at the box in his hands. “I got scared, Y/N. You know that I have commitment issues and trust issues. But…I wanna get better.”

“You want to hurt me even more to make fun of me with your friends,” you sniff. “I’m done with people walking all over me. I won’t have it.”

“Please don’t give up on me, Y/N. I’m not the best boyfriend and I got flaws but…” He shrugs. “We click. There aren't that many people that you just 'click' with; and when you find those people, you don't just let them go.”

“You let me go,” you tap your heart. “You broke my heart and now you stand on my doorstep asking me to take you back?”

“If you can forgive me, I promise to heal your heart…”

You take the cake out of his hands and jerk your head toward the door. “I’ll eat the cake, and maybe, I’ll call you. For now, I want you to leave me alone.”

You never gave much about tradition and getting married or mated before turning thirty. Some omegas even freak out if they don’t find a mate before they turn twenty. You never were this kind of omega.

But now that you sit at the table, cheering for a cousin you haven’t seen in years, tears roll down your cheeks.

“Aw, you are moved to tears from the speech,” your aunt coos. She smiles and pats your hands. Your aunt is proud of her daughter, and you don’t have the heart to tell her that your tears have nothing to do with your cousin’s wedding.

“It’s a,” you choke on your tears, “very moving speech. I’m sorry.” You lie and give her a cracked smile. “She must be very happy.”

“My dear, I’m sure you’ll find your mate,” she says. You know that your aunt means well, but she just added another stab to your vulnerable heart. “The right young man is waiting just around the corner.”

You’d like to roll your eyes at her words. Your mate doesn’t wait around the corner. And you won’t meet him at any moment. “Sure,” you say, and force a smile on your face.

“Where are you going?” She asks when you get up from your chair. The speeches are over, and people are busy stuffing food into their mouths.

“I need to use the toilet,” you whisper. “I’ll be right back.” Another lie easily rolls off your tongue.

The truth is that your stomach churns, and you’d like to throw up watching your ex-boyfriend nip at your friend’s neck. If you don’t leave the room now, you’ll do something you regret.

It’s worse enough that you cried. You won’t give them the satisfaction and watch you lose control. Even though you’d like to scratch her eyes out.

You try not to run out of the room but walk fast enough to struggle not to slip on the floor. Goddamn high heels. Why did you have to choose the most uncomfortable shoes you own to wear today out of all days?

“Fuck,” you almost made it out of the room when you slip and end up face first in someone’s chest. “Great. My fucking luck!”

“Watch out, doll,” he easily helps you steady your wobbling legs. He gives you a warm smile and chuckles as you stare at him with wide eyes. “You good? Did you hurt your ankle?” His eyes drop to your feet, and he shakes his head at your choice of shoes. “These shoes are no good. You could easily break your neck.”

“You are telling me,” you huff. “I had to wear them because of the wedding but-“ you lean closer to whisper in his ear, “I’m hiding a pair of sneakers in my bag.”

He smirks at your admission. “So, do you often run away from weddings to crash into people?”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you splutter as you take your time to drink his appearance in.

The man catching your fall is very handsome. Sadly, he’s older than you, at least twenty years. His salt’n’pepper beard, the grey in his hair, and the lines around his eyes tell you so. Which means that he’s likely married or at least mated.

You sigh. This is not the right place nor the time to mourn the loss of a man you didn’t have in the first place. “It’s fine. I love getting run over by a pretty dame. How about I help you get a drink? You look thirsty. I guess I’m too hot to handle and you need water.”

Giggling at his corny pick-up line you consider him. “If you invite a lady for a drink, it should be at least a Martini.”

“Dry or extra dry?” He cocks a brow.

“I guess in your presence no woman stays dry,” you bluntly reply, making him chuckle. His cheeks turn pink, but he plays it cool. Damn him. He makes you drop your gaze to look at his hands to search for a ring.

“Cute,” he remarks. “I bet you taste even sweeter.” Oh, he’s a player. “Name’s John, doll. What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you hold out your hand and give him your sweetest smile. If he wants to play, who are you to tell him to stop? “Nice to meet you, John.”

“Dito, sweetness,” he shakes your hand and holds it a little longer than needed. His thumb brushes over your skin, making you shudder. “Now, let’s get you a drink. We want you to stay hydrated.”

“What are you doing?” He watches you take the olive picks out of your drink to place them on a napkin. “Don’t waste them.”

Your eyes widen when he takes the olive pick to drop the olives in his mouth. “You like olives?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and flashes you an irresistible smile. “You hate them, I assume.”

“Yes and…I mean…” You lick your lips as John takes a sip of his drink. “Did you ever hear of the olive theory John?”

“No.” He cocks a brow at your question. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“It’s…forget it.” You shake your head. “It’s nonsense.”

“It was important enough for you to mention it, Y/N. Come on, tell me about it. I don’t want to get my glasses out to search for it on my phone.”

“Okay,” you lick your lips. “If you laugh about me, I’ll go.”

“I promise not to laugh, doll.”

“There was this show. It’s called…” You clear your throat. “That doesn’t matter. There was this cute couple. One of them hated olives, but the other one loved them. One of their friends developed the theory that this fact makes them a great couple. A perfect balance, you know.”

John nods thoughtfully. He looks at the abandoned olive pick, considering your words. “I’m much older than you, doll. Do you know what you get yourself into when you tell me things like that?”

“No, but enlighten me,” you take the glass out of his hand to take a sip. “It’s only a theory from a TV show.”

“Hmmm…maybe we should test the theory,” he takes the drink out of your hand to down it. “How about we get out of here? We could go for a walk.”

“Maybe after you got me another drink,” you lean closer to run your hand over his hand. “I’m not a girl for one night.”

“Of fucking course not,” he grins. “You’re a keeper…”

Steve smiles at the memory. You opened up to him even more. And now, you crossed a line. Your flirty banter and all the teasing ended in a night of passion. (According to you.) Steve would call it making love.

“So,” Steve clears his throat. He’s still not back in your good graces. (at least not completely.) You took it to heart that he ruined your fifth date fight in the park. 

The bench you sat on that day didn’t make it out alive. The same goes for the woman’s car, her apartment, and almost her dog too.

The last one was an accident! 

You tried to rip her handbag off her shoulder only to watch her dog fly off the roof. Of course, you saved the poor dog just in time. 

She didn’t get it back, though. Let’s say Carl got the dog he always wanted, and the woman is missing an accessory she loved to carry around in a handbag. 

“Goddess, are you still mad at me?” Steve repeats the same line he said a hundred times already. “Please forgive me for messing our date up.”

You glare at him. “That wasn’t a date, Captain Sassypants!”

“Our epic battle then,” he grins when you melt against his warm chest. “So, do you want me to make things up again?”

You quirk a brow and lift the silky sheet covering his lower half. “You really are a super-soldier, huh? I didn’t think it comes with a mechanic dick.”

Steve chuckles at your comment. “It’s not mechanic, doll.”

“I don’t know,” you move your hand to his crotch to feel him up. “Litte Captain Sassypants is hard as steel!”

He grabs your hand to place it on his chest. Steve wants to talk about a few things with you.

“You never told me why you became a villain,” he softly says while you are busy running your right hand over his naked chest. “Every infamous villain has a backstory. Don’t they?”

Crap. You’re not prepared to give him a good lie. The truth is, you had a huge crush on Steve and started to commit smaller crimes to get his attention. One thing led to another, and you ended up with a whole bunch of crazy minions, a huge mansion, and a name everyone fears.

"A villain is in control. I had enough of feeling helpless. All my life people walked all over me. I got treated badly because of my powers. I belonged nowhere. Not even Shield wanted me. So, I became a villain and embraced my powers and being different from others,” you say. 

It’s not a complete lie. Your life sucked, and you got used to being an outcast. Everyone overlooked you until you decided to impress a certain hero with your powers and the crimes you committed.

“I see,” Steve wraps one arm around your body to hold you close to his warm chest. “Every villain has a backstory then.”

“What about you?” You lift your head from his chest. “Aren't you tired of being the golden boy and perfect minion to Shield, the Avengers, and everyone else out there?" You rake your nails over his chest, causing Steve to shudder. “Don’t you want to break out and run away sometimes?”

“With you?” He smirks and looks at you in his arms. “Imagine, the mightiest villain and Captain America run off for their honeymoon.”

“Whoa, slow down!” You grunt. “I conquered your body to weaken your resistance and make sure my minions can wreak havoc while you are busy with other things I never agreed to marry you.”

“You will,” he shrugs. “I know you want to be a good person. You only need someone to help you see you’re not evil.”

“I enchanted you,” you hum to yourself. “I’m even mightier than I thought. I made Captain America lose his mind!”

“That you did.” Steve agrees to not lose the chance to hold you in his arms a little longer. 

You’re a good person, he just knows it. Every time you take care of one of your minions or save someone standing in the line of fire he sees your true self.

Sadly, no one before Steve saw the light in you. They tried to extinguish it or turn it into a raging fire.

“Good thing I live in close proximity to the Avengers Tower. This way, I can keep an eye on you, Captain.”

“You’re still mad at me,” he sighs deeply. “Doll, I told you this woman meant nothing to me. She didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Damn right,” you click your tongue. “I gave it to that bitch good. She will never try to get her greedy hands on someone else’s man-” You cough and try to play your slip-of-tongue cool. “I meant enemy.”

Steve poorly tries to hide the smirk creeping across his face. He nuzzles your hair and sighs again. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Goddess.”

“I kinda stole her poor dog. Little fart is much happier with Carl.”

“Little fart?”

“I didn’t name the dog,” you grumble. “Carl did.”

“You know stealing is illegal. Right?” Steve tuts, letting the hero and goody-in-two shoes show.

You chuckle darkly. “Oh, I did more than steal her dog. Do you want to arrest me now, Captain?” While you straddle his lap and place your hands on his chest, Steve watches you with adoration in his eyes. “Hey, stop looking like a love-sick puppy. We are not here to make love! You are my prisoner for the time being.”

“Oh, please don’t chain me up in the cold cell again,” he plays along. Steve knows you don’t like to give up control or admit feelings. Weakness is not an option. You had a hard life and won’t be weak ever again.

Well, maybe you allow yourself once in a while to be weak when you are in his arms. “If you are a good prisoner, you can stay here.”

“Phew, good.” Steve watches you lie back down on top of him. “I feared Tony must come to my rescue. You know him. He’ll call you my girlfriend again.”

“I dare him!” You exclaim loudly. “I’m your master and made you my willing slave. Nothing else.”

“I know, doll,” Steve runs his hand over your back. “I’ll tell him so. Promised.”

“Good. We don’t want your little friends to come over and believe they’ll get my cookies or shit. I won’t share my technology or minions with them.”

“Goddess, I need you to tell me what you did with that woman.” Steve already knows you wrecked her car and apartment.

“She had it coming,” you lift your head from his chest to grin at Steve. “I think she learned her lesson. No one touches my archenemy.”

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