#I hate how Starbucks is just right there so I could do this anytime

[daiseukiis]

no i am still very much dead

#I will continue to enjoy this matcha iced latte due to the 25% off offer #I hate how Starbucks is just right there so I could do this anytime #anyways I have another 4 hours of work gonna die lol <3 #༊*·˚ wandering goddess

[variousficss]

[Bucky Barnes] set of 2 - part 11

Summary: bridging the abyss at the most bridging moment that exists. 🎄

next

Absolutely shit.

Lost. Confused. Boring. Upset.

Bucky's state.

"Man, this is not how I imagined my Christmas night."

"You're free to go anytime, Sam. Nobody's keeping you here."

Stubborn. Moron. Stupid ass. Ugly ass blue eyes, man.

Sam's thoughts.

"Man, this is sad as fuck, c'mon. Look at you", Sam pointed to Bucky's tired face. "You look like a homeless guy, and my uncle was an actual homeless homie, and man, let me tell you: you look waay worse than him."

Bucky didn't say anything back, just drinking his beer.

"Bucky, man, we need to talk," Sam said, his tone both firm and friendly. He knew Bucky was struggling, but the soldier would die before being the first to bring up the conversation.

Bucky glanced at him, reluctance in his eyes. "Talk about what?"

Sam sat down beside him, choosing his words carefully. "About you and YN. Something's off, and I'm not buying the "I'm protecting-her' excuse anymore."

"It's not an excuse!" Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't make you understand how terrified I am of losing her. I can't do this to her, Sam."

Sam leaned back, studying Bucky's troubled expression. "You're not protecting her by shutting her out, Buck. You're just hurting YN. And yourself."

"I just... ", Bucky looked away. Sam was right. You were right, too. He just couldn't convince himself. That he wouldn't break you. "... after the mission, the soldier... the reminders of what I used to be. I can't let her get caught up in all that."

Sam nodded, understanding the deep-rooted fears that haunted Bucky. "Look, I get it. But YN cares about you. She wants to be there for you. You're shutting her out isn't doing either of you any favors. You don't seem better for being away from her, and maybe that's a sign." Bucky remained silent, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. Sam continued, "Maybe it's time to let her in. You don't have to face everything alone, Buck. You’re allowed to be happy, y’know? And she's strong, you know? Stronger than you give her credit for."

You were. You are. Stronger than him, for sure. The way you look at him, making him feel like he's the only one you see in the room, the way you feel at ease about joking with him and sharing mundane things—all that made Bucky fall in love. Despite his efforts to keep you away, you refused to do so. You refused to let him alone. The walls he had erected to protect you were, in fact, isolating both of you. He was alone. Worse: he left you alone, too. If you needed Bucky just a little as much as he wanted you, Bucky couldn't express how much he had screwed up. What if you needed him too? What if you wanted him just like he wanted you? If you wanted him, why was he denying you that? He wanted you just as badly.

~~~~~ the other day ~~~~~~

Bucky didn't pay much attention when he first heard the sound of the cafe door opening and closing, nor did he pay much attention when he heard someone walking towards him. It was only when you pulled out the chair in front of his and sat down that he finally started to notice.

Startled and perplexed by the person's bold actions, Bucky looked up from his laptop screen, a frown already forming as he prepared to reprimand the stranger, only to freeze in shock when he realized who was sitting in front of him. Instantly, his heart began to pound and he shakily closed the book, leaning back in his chair as he took a sip of his refreshing drink, trying to shake off his growing nervousness. How did you know where he was? He was going to a different cafe since he decided to get away from you, going to the cafe you hated: Starbucks.

Realizing he wasn't going to speak, you frowned, just like Bucky did when he was frustrated about something but too tired to argue.

“One would almost think you were avoiding me...” You finally spoke, your tone painfully sarcastic.

Despite the nonchalant way you said, Bucky could feel the pain behind your words, the realization making him shift guiltily in response.

“Why?” Bucky realized you were trying hard not to sound angry and accusatory with your words, but instead they just sounded heartbroken and lost, something that was much more painful for him to hear. “You always hide when you're in pain and I haven’t said anything and I haven't been looking for you in the last few days because I believe in privacy and I know you’re struggling..."

Bucky didn't know what to say.

"Why don’t you talk to me anymore? We used to talk all the time, Buck.", you confessed and you fought not to fill your eyes with tears. "I just want my friend back."

"I never said we were friends", the soldier mumbled, unable to look you in the eyes.

"Why are you acting like this? I know you’re going through a tough time, but so am I. I hate this, Bucky. Have I done something to get us here?", Bucky shook his head, but you kept going. "Tell me what I’ve done and I’ll fix it."

And there it was: Bucky hurting you again. Even when he tried to keep his distance. He hurt you even when he wasn't around and continued to do so when he was.

“You haven’t done anything, Doll. It's me, I'm the one that's fucked up. If you keep me around you think is gonna get better? That people will stop looking at you like they do?! Even at your job, you think they'd want to have a coworker that's friends with the Winter Soldier?!", he cringed at the way he sounded. "it won't stop, Doll. You know it won't."

"I don't care."

"Yeah? You don't? Do you want to keep getting beaten? "

"No, I don't want any of that, Bucky. You never lifted your hands to me, but I’m your punching bag all the same."

And now he felt like the one who got punched. You were right.

"I know I'm not much, but I really enjoy having you around, James.", you confessed as you looked away from his deep blue eyes.

"What did you say?", Bucky was confused.

"Come on, Bucky. You and I know very well that I am the most ordinary person in thi fucking world. I don't save the world and I'm not even the best worker in my company. I don't have thousands of followers on Facebook and I don't even have many friends. There's nothing special about me. I know this and I know you do too. I like being with you because you know that and it doesn't bother you. I can be ordinary with you because you are exactly the opposite. You have this bunch of things going on for you and you can deal with them. You have been harmed in unimaginable ways, yet you still care about whether I ate or slept well. By the way, leaving food on my apartment door is a bit stalkerish. What kind of Sugar Daddy will people think I have?"

Wow. Lots of information. In those days when you were apart, Bucky missed how you could talk about several topics in a single breath. He could feel the sincerity in your words, the genuine concern and care you had for him. For a moment he was speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings.

"You're not ordinary to me," he finally repeated, his voice a low murmur. "I admire you because you’re funny and snarky, sarcastic as all hell, but you don’t know. That’s why you don’t understand. You don’t know what I used to be like. You don’t know what it was like in my head. I lived in a really dark place,” he says to you. “I wasn’t safe in my own mind. I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn’t even tell the difference. I created a routine, to protect myself.", he confessed. "If I do the same things every day then nothing changes. But with you? something new happens everyday."

"With me? Bucky, you literally fight again every single day, how your days changes because of me?"

"Because I'm used to fighting, Doll. I'm used to getting punched and stabbed and all of that shit. I'm good at it. But with you? Your hearts beats differently everytime I see you and I don't know what it means. You look at me differently and you support me even when I fucked up. I don't know what to do when you do these stuff."

"So what? Do you want me to stop?", you ask more sharply than you meant to.

"I enjoyed not needing anyone. I didn’t need anyone else to make me feel safe. I was getting good again because I didnt care, but with you? I care. I care a lot and it’s as if I’m relying on everyone else", Bucky didnt know if he was talking to himself of to you anymore, but his words felt so honest. Brutally honest. "I hate it. I don’t want my entire world to depend on anyone else but me." he piercied his eyes deep into yours.

You nod in agreement. If that was the problem, than you knew how to fix it.

"You don’t need anyone but yourself, but you can have me anyway, Buck.", you stated simply.

Bucky sighed, his internal struggles evident in his eyes. He looked at you, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Yet, all he found was sincerity and a kind of understanding only you showed him.

"You're offering something I don't deserve, doll" he admitted, his gaze shifting to the tabletop.

"Deserve? Who decides what we deserve, Bucky?" you replied, your voice steady and resolute. "Life doesn't work that way. Sometimes, you just find someone who makes the journey a little less lonely. I'm not here to fix you. I'm here because I want to be."

Bucky's eyes softened, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, if only slightly.

"I'm a mess, Y/N. I'm not good company," he warned.

"I don't care," you reassured him, leaning forward and passing the item that was wrapped in your hand to his . A bracelet. "I made this for you.", you showed him the bracelet, without time to wrap it you just put it in your bag hoping he wouldn't mind. It said 'White Wolf', the name he had been given in Wakanda after everything was over and he was finally free. Bucky had told you this at the very beginning of your friendship with him. How that name had a special meaning for him. White Wolf signified Bucky's rebirth and redemption. A new beginning, a new identity and a chance to find purpose and peace. And he found it. He was finding it. And you were more part of it than you knew.

He didn't move as you placed the small item on his arm. It was cute.

You watched as Bucky examined the bracelet, his fingers tracing the engraved words. He looked at the bracelet, and for the first time since you sat down, a genuine smile touched his lips. "I... I don't know what to say," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours.

"You don't have to say anything," you replied, pushing your chair back and getting up. "I gotta go now."

"Wait, what?," the soldier asked confused. "You're leaving?"

You turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Hell, yeah. It's Christmas and I have a couple of movies to marathon. My friend bailed out on me", you smiled, but the smile didnt quite reach your eyes.

“So you just came here to scold me?", he asked confused.

“Pretty much. And besides, friends don't let friends wallow in self-pity. So, get it together, Barnes.", you offered him a bigger smile this time. "I miss my friend, Buck." You grabbed the coffee Bucky was drinking and took it with you as you left.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"It's a special skill," you replied, almost by the door. "See you around, Bucky."

next

Tag list: @almosttoopizza @creat0r-cat @aesthetic0cherryblossom  @cjand10 @sapphirebarnes @nouk1998 @unaxv @rain-lavender-rain @winterslove1917 @marvel-wifey-86

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic recs #bucky fic #fluff bucky

[mjfsupremacy]

TW: This post talks about the current conflict in Palestine and mentions loss of life. Please look after yourself and proceed with caution. 🧡

MJF's silence in regards to the genocide has been bothering me for the last few weeks and I'm growing more and more concerned that he may be in support of the removal of Palestine and its people.

He has been unapologetically vocal about his Jewish beliefs and heritage for years but recently it's felt like it's been more frequent and I wonder if this is his way of showing his support to Israel or if he maybe hasn't considered the optics of doing all this, standing beside an Israeli flag to recieve rightfully deserved honours, but saying nothing about what that flag actually represents (the murder of nearly 20000 people and the oppression of millions just in the last 2 months.)

He's an amazing advocate for the Jewish community, and he deserves all this recognition, and I'm sure people much smarter than me have spoken about how fair it is to expect rules on how Jewish people navigate their faith online, but does anyone else think the timing is a bit strange? I don't know about anyone else, but I will never be able to separate the art from the artist and I can't support someone who thinks what is happening to Palestinians is or ever has been okay. I really hope I'm just reading all this wrong.

Maybe I've missed something and this isn't the red flag my gut is telling me it is, if I have please feel free to educate me and I will update this post with any and all relevant information.

Please consider boycotting Starbucks, McDonald's, Zara, and Disney. Please consider calling your representatives to demand and end to arms sales, a permanent ceasefire, and a return of all hostages, and if it is safe to do so, please get to the next rally in your local area. Our voices matter,and we can make a difference. We just have to try. 🍉

EDIT: I would like to add, though I am not American that there has been a 300% rise in antisemitic hate crimes since Oct 7 and this could very well be a reason Max has chosen not to speak on the genocide. As always, hate of any kind is not welcome on this page, especially antisemitism. We can be critical and discuss this issue without resulting to hate speech!

EDIT #2: it's okay to feel confused and scared and conflicted about this issue. Jewish people and Muslim people deserve our love and support right now. If you would like to talk or would like further information to better educate yourself on the Nekba, on the original Israeli solution, and how the UN and America and the UK came to create it, and what's happening now, please feel free to reach out anytime.

EDIT #3: I want to reiterate that I am not accusing Max of anything, I am airing my concerns and my confusions and feelings. Again, I understand that this is a complicated issue but we all have a responsibility to do the best we can and stand up for humanity whenever we can.

#free palestine #mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #aew #all elite wrestling

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Proposal ~ T.H

chapter one: the proposal 

Series Masterlist

As editor in chief of the most renowned book publishing company in the UK, you had a lot on your plate. Lucky for you, you had an assistant who fulfilled your every need.

“Assistant?” You called from your desk. “Where’s my drink?”

“Right here, miss.” Tom hurried to put a Starbucks cup in your hand. He watched you nervously as you took a long sip.

“No eye contact.” You reminded him, and his eyes quickly fell to the floor. “Not unless I initiate it first.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Sorry.”

“Did you read the manuscript I sent you last night?” You asked once you seemed to approve of the drink.

“Yes, miss.”

“All of it?” You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Tom took a large stack of papers out of his bag and carefully placed them on your desk.

“I highlighted the weaker paragraphs and put tabs on the parts that drag.” He explained as you flipped through the stack.

“Color coded tabs?” You asked.

“Pink for parts that need editing and red for parts that can be cut all together.” He nodded. Your lips tugged into a smile as you stopped touching the pages.

“Good boy.” You said without looking at him. Tom gulped and looked up at the ceiling so you wouldn’t see how flustered that made him.

“Thank you, miss.” He said weakly.

That was how your relationship was. You were the boss, and he made sure you were happy at all times. You had fired 15 assistants before you found Tom. Most ran from you in fear, but Tom had been putting up with you for two years now. It was hard work, but he enjoyed it.

“What did you think of the writing?” You asked him. Tom swallowed a little before giving you his answer.

“His dialogue was strong but it got preachy towards the middle.” He began. “The scene between Genevieve and Edward sounded like he was rewriting a past experience with an ex.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” You smirked. “Nice work, assistant. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you.” Tom bowed before turning to leave your part of the office.

“Wait.” You called, making him freeze.

“Yes, miss?” He asked nervously.

“Why does my cup say “Tom” on it?” You asked as you turned the cup around to show him where his name was written.

“Um, that was actually my cup.” He explained. “That’s why.”

“And what happened to my cup?” You tilted your head.

“I spilled it.” He admitted. “I’m sorry, miss. It won’t happen again.”

“So you drink a matcha latte with soy milk and foam?” You raised your eyebrow. “Because this is the same as my order.”

“I do.”

“I thought you drank tea.”

“I drink that too.” He nodded quickly. “I just like matcha in the morning.”

“Do you?” You laughed a little, but it came off as a scoff. You liked to you with Tom because of how easy he made it.

“Of course.” He said. “I don’t just drink the same drink as you in case I spill yours. That would be crazy.”

“No one suggested you did.” You said flatly, and Tom realized he was caught.

“I…um.”

“Right.” You waved your hand. “Get out of my office, assistant.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s a great idea.” Tom gave you a thumbs up and quickly ran to his part of the office. He sat down in his desk and snuck a glance at you as you read over his work from the night before.

“Did you need something else?” You asked without looking up at him. Tom flushed again when you caught him staring and cleared his throat.

“Yes, miss.” He began. “I was wondering if you received my request to take next week off. I was going to go home to see my family.”

“Oh, right.” You remembered reading his email. “Do you really need a whole week?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I haven’t seen them in a long time and it’s my little brothers birthday.” Tom explained. “It would mean a lot to them if I was there.”

You let out a loud sigh as you continued to read the manuscript, never looking up at him.

“I also haven’t taken a vacation in two years.” He added quietly. “Just to remind you.”

You finally looked up at Tom, who was sitting meekly with his hands folded on his desk, and let out another sigh. He was a great assistant who never talked back or asked for anything. He deserved a little time off.

“Fine.” You agreed. “You can go home. But I want the revised edits of the My Girl manuscript by the time you get back.”

“Yes, miss.” He broke into a smile. “Of course.”

“Now stop staring.” You commanded, and he quickly looked away.

You and Tom worked in silence for the next hour until he got a phone call.

“Miss L/n’s office, how may I help you?” Tom cheerily answered the phone. You snuck a glance at him as he nodded along to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Yes, sir. Right away.” He said before hanging up. “Miss?”

“What now?” You sighed.

“You have a call from upstairs.” Tom explained. “They want to see you right away.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your chair. A call from upstairs meant the head of the publishing company, Mr. Reynolds, wanted to see you.

“All right.” You stood up and smoothed your skirt. “You know the drill. Get me in ten minutes with a call from-“

“Mr. Paxton.” Tom finished your sentence with a smile. “I know what to do.”

“Good boy.” You nodded at him. “But don’t cut me off again. Or I’ll cut that pretty little paycheck I give you. Got it?”

“Yes, miss.” He answered as you walked out of the office. You made your way to the office upstairs and threw on a smile before opening the door.

“Good morning, sir.” You greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Good morning, Y/n.” Mr. Reynolds smiled tightly. “Look, there’s no way to sugar coat this. You’re being deported.”

“What?” Your smile fell. “Deported?”

“We got a call from the IRCC.” He sighed. “Your visa is expired.”

“But I put in a request for a renewal.” You explained as you tried not to panic.

“It was denied.” He told you. “Apparently you haven’t filled out your paperwork in months. You missed several deadlines.”

You let out a loud sigh and sat in the chair in front of his desk. Me. Reynolds watched you sympathetically as you rubbed your face.

“So what happens now?” You asked sadly.

“You stayed in the country past 30 days of your visa expiring. That means you’ll have to leave the country for a year and apply for citizenship.”

“A year?” You exclaimed but quickly collected yourself so you didn’t look frazzled.

“That’s...that’s not problem.” You forced a smile. I can work from home. Most of what I do is online anyway. It’ll be fine.”

“I wish it were that easy.” He sighed. “You’re the best editor in chief we’ve ever had and it would kill us to see you go. But if you’re deported, you can’t work for an UK company. It’s not allowed.”

Before you could answer, Tom knocked on the door and stepped into the office.

“Excuse me, I have a call waiting for Miss L/n.” He smiled. “It’s from Mr. Paxton and it’s urgent.”

“Not now, assistant.” You waved him away in annoyance while you tried to think of what to do. Tom didn’t understand that you didn’t need to be saved from this meeting, so he went on with the plan.

“I can see that you’re already engaged but when you have a minute, Mr. Paxton really needs to speak with you.” Tom continued. Your head snapped up at his choice of words and suddenly, you had an idea. Tom looked at your curiously as you got out of your chair and motioned for him to come over to you. He reluctantly walked over to you and kept his distance, but you immediately pulled him closer and wrapped your arm around his.

“Mr. Reynolds , you don’t have to worry about replacing me.” You said. “I can assure you, no one is getting deported anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?” He asked. Tom looked at you in confusion and you gave him a sweet smile in return. You slipped your hand into Tom’s and rested your head on his shoulder, making Tom’s entire body tense up.

“Because Tom and I are engaged.” You lied through a smile.

“You are?” Mr. Reynolds asked hopefully.

“We are?” Tom sputtered with wide eyes.

“We are.” You said through gritted teeth, never losing your smile. “We are getting married. To each other. Out of love. And passion. And stuff.”

“Yeah. What she said.” Tom faked a smile as well as he tried to understand what was happening.

“Wow. Congratulations.” Mr. Reynolds applauded you. “I had no idea you two were together.”

“Well, we are.” You squeezed Tom’s hand and beamed. “We’re so excited. I can’t wait to be Mrs....”

You trailed off and looked to Tom for help when you realized you didn’t know his last name.

“Holland.” He finished your sentence.

“Holland.” You nodded. “Mrs. Holland. That’s me. Soon to be, anyway.”

“Well this would certainly solve the deportation issue. Just make it official and you’re in the clear.” Mr. Reynolds told you.

“We will. Bye now.” You waved and pulled Tom out of the office by his hand. You quickly dropped his hand and your smile as you walked back to your office.

“What was the about?” Tom whispered. “What deportation?”

“Keep your mouth shut and keep walking.” You seized his arm and pulled him to your office. You pushed him inside and shut the door behind the two of you, letting out a loud groan once you were alone.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” He asked you.

“No.” You said simply as rubbed your face.

“No?” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

You glared at Tom for a minute as you reminded yourself that he was your only hope. You hated being vulnerable in front of people, but you desperately needed his help. Knowing there was no other option, you hung your head in shame and got ready to tell him the truth.

“Look, I’m not a UK citizen.” You admitted. “I came here on a student visa and I got it extended once I started working here but the embassy denied my recent request for another extension.”

“Okay. Great.” Tom said sarcastically. “What does that have to do with my hand in marriage?”

“I can’t work here without citizenship or a visa. But I could stay here if I was married to a citizen, like you.” You said like it was obvious. “And watch it with the sarcasm. I’m still your boss.”

“Sorry, miss.” He slipped back into his submissive role. “But why would you have to marry me? Can’t you just apply for citizenship?”

“Do you have any idea how long that takes?” You sighed. “And I’d have to leave the country for at least a year because I overstayed.”

“Where are you being deported to exactly?” He wondered.

“Canada.” You mumbled sheepishly. His cheeks puffed up as he tried to hold back laughter. He knew it wasn’t funny, but he had never seen you so vulnerable before. Something about you needing his help made him want to laugh.

“Are you laughing?” You sternly raised your eyebrows at him.

“No.” He said quickly. “I’ve never laughed. Not once in my whole life.”

“This is serious.” You raised your voice at him. “It’s my job. And it’s your job too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my assistant.” You reminded him. “If I’m fired, so are you. That means all the work you’ve done to get to where you are will go out the window and you’ll have to start over.”

“I can’t start over.” Tom panicked. “I put my whole life into this job.”

“Then you know what you have to do.” You shrugged.

“But we can’t just get married.” He laughed at the ridiculous situation.

“Why not?” You said dismissively. “We can just sign the papers at city hall and get divorced when this is all solved.”

“Are you forgetting this is a felony?” He asked you. “We’d be committing fraud.”

“Then we’ll just have to be extremely convincing.” You gave him as tight smile.

“And what if we’re not?” He asked as he got closer to you. “I could go jail. Why would I risk that just so you could stay in the country?”

You put your hand on your hips and stared at him, realizing he had a good point. He had a lot to lose if he helped you, so you had to level the playing field.

“I’ll make you editor.” You decided.

“What?”

“Thats what you want, right?” You asked. “What you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes. I want it very much.” He said quietly.

“Then I’ll make you a deal.” You proposed. “If you marry me, I will promote you to editor.”

“You will?” He asked hopefully.

“I will.” You promised. “You earned it. And you’d be doing me a huge favor.”

Tom stared at you for a long time as he decided what to do. He was risking at least five years in prison for committing fraud, but that was only if you got caught. If he could convict the IRCC that he was your husband, he could become the editor at his dream job.

“Please.” You said softly when you sensed his hesitation. “You’re my only hope. I need you.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a smile as he came to a conclusion.

“I want a proposal.” He decided.

“What?”

“If we’re getting married, then I want a proposal.” He shrugged. “From you. Right now.”

“I am not proposing to you.” You scoffed.

“Then you’ll have to find a new husband.” Tom said simply. He turned to go back to his desk but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait.” You looked at the ceiling in annoyance, knowing there was no way around this.

“Yes?” He asked sweetly.

“Will you marry me?” You asked through a tight smile.

“Uh uh.” He said. “That’s not a proposal.”

“What am I supposed to do?” You whined. “Get down on my knees?”

Tom tweaked an eyebrow up and you took it as a yes. With a loud sigh, you got down on both knees in front of him and took his hand.

“Tom Holland,” you forced a wide smile, “will you please marry me?”

“It’s a pretty sight.” He smirked. “You on your knees.”

“Is that a yes?” You raised an unamused eyebrow.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Yes, I will marry you.”

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #Tom Holland fake dating #tom holland fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #marvel

[kai-uh-arcadian]

Ackersmith Cafe 

Pieck x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k Cw: minor cursing Disclaimer! This is my first story/fic/head canon type thing ever, so feedback is much appreciated! ( :

enjoy!

* Lots of wholesome fluff ( : <3 *

Ships involved: Pieck x Reader, Hitchani, Eruri, Yumihisu,  Implied EreMika, Implied Niccolo x Sasha

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⁃ Ackersmith cafe, a quaint, dark academia type coffee shop

⁃ Leading local competitor “mom and pop shop” of the Shiganshina county against Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts and Bakers Dozen

⁃ Used to be called “Smith Cafe” owned Grandma and Grandpa Smith before Mr. Erwin took over and married Mr.Levi

⁃ You and your parents have been going here since you could remember! Even before Mr.Erwin won his battle against cancer but lost his arm

⁃ Even though you’re in college now, it’s still walking distance from Paradis University and the neighbor university—Liberio University

⁃ You introduced your college friends, Sasha, Mikasa, and Annie to this place

⁃ You go here almost everyday to study and do uni homework

⁃ “Mr. Erwin!” You announced every time you walk in with Annie, Sasha, and Mikasa as the bells of the cafe ring

⁃ “(Y/nnnnnnn!)” he says waving his bionic arm that Hange, the other barista, made for him

⁃ (Hange chooses to work here every other weekend as a way to “relax” from their researching job, crazy right?)

⁃ “Hey twerp, when did you get so tall?”Mr. Levi flashes a smile from behind the counter, remembering you getting hoisted up on your dads shoulder while ordering a hot chocolate from when he was a trainee here a few years ago

⁃ “Mr. Levi, it’s been years since I was your height” you chuckle glancing at Mikasa, Sasha, and Annie stifling back a laugh at they witness this interaction

⁃ “Tch. You brats, I’ll kick you out any second!” he jokingly gets defensive

⁃ “Levi” Mr. Erwin puts a hand on the small of Mr. Levi’s back “Be nice to my favourite and most important customers! You’ll drive out our daily revenue” he laughs

⁃ “Yeah yeah whatever. The usual, brats?” Mr. Levi rolls his eyes holding back a soft smile

⁃ “Yep!” You all say in unison

⁃ “Should’ve guessed” as his rings up your guys’ total “I’ll bring it right out for you guys” he says before disappearing into the brewing station

⁃ You, Sasha, Mikasa, and Annie go to your usual booth right by the front window of the cafe

⁃ You 4 begin to pull out your computers and begin to do homework

⁃ Sasha and Mikasa are typing away on a shared Google Slide for a project they were both assigned to for their ENGL 2273 class they both happened to have together while you and Annie are looking out the window dozing off

⁃ “(Y/N),” Mikasa says grabbing your attention “Do your work.”

⁃ “Alright alright” you begin opening up a blackboard assignment your Professor assigned to you

⁃ “Slacking off again (L/N)?” Mr. Levi’s voice startles you as you look up

⁃ “No!” You shyly smile at him as you pretend to type away at the assignment

⁃ “Tch. Anyways, a white chocolate mocha latte with a glazed donut for you Annie, a hot, unsweetened, caramel latte for you Mikasa, a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant with a cinnamon dolce frappe for you Sasha, and a matcha frappe for you (Y/N). Anything else brats?” He smiles as he hands everything to you guys

⁃ “No thank you!” You say in unison once again before he nods and walks away

⁃ As you sip on your delectable drink, Annie’s face lights up and it’s not from the donut (this time)

⁃ “Eh? Annie, what’s got you smiling?” Sasha says nervously chewing on her croissant at Annie’s surprised face

⁃ “Oh.” Annie’s face goes back to the typical stoic look “nothing, it’s just I know those people about to walk in” she gestures to a tall, muscular blonde man, a tall, brunette who is visibly sweating, a dirty blonde man with an undercut, and breathtaking black haired women with languid eyes and a perpetual soft smile

⁃ “Huh? How?” Mikasa looks up from her work and towards the girl sitting to her left shoulder, peeking a glance at the group about to walk in

⁃ “Eh, I went to Marley high school with them. I had a few classes with each of them throughout the years but never really interacted too much. They aren’t mean or anything— I just recognize them. I think they go to Liberio university” she says taking another bite of her donut

⁃ “Her names Pieck Finger” Annie said with a mouth full of donut directly at you “I’m guessing you were wondering” she smirks

⁃ Your face heats up. Did Annie notice you were staring at her?! Oh no… if Annie noticed… did this mean that Pieck girl also notice?!”

⁃ “No no” you laughed it off, “I wasn’t wondering I was just staring off into space!!”

⁃ This earns a chuckle out of Mikasa, she read you like a book

⁃ The Liberio squad orders as your little Paradis squad begins to pack up after being there for about hour and a half

⁃ “Annie?” The muscular blonde says from a few tables over

⁃ Annie lights up a bit at the seemingly familiar voice coming from behind her

⁃ “Reiner?” Annie walks over to the table as you, Mikasa, and Sasha continue to pack up

⁃ “Oh! These are my friends (Y/N), Mikasa, and Sasha. We usually come here almost everyday” annie says as each of you light up at the sound of your name

⁃ “Nice to meet you all! This is Bertolt, Porco, Pieck, and I’m Reiner”

You 4 wave to the Liberio 4 and you make direct eye contact with Pieck, she smiles softly at you

⁃ “It was nice seeing you all again, we were just on our way out” Annie waves to the group

⁃ “It was nice meeting you!” You, Mikasa, and Sasha say in unison

⁃ You made eye contact with Pieck once again before exiting

The next day

⁃ you text the group chat during your last class of the day “Ackersmiths?

⁃ Annie replies “Hitch nagged at me this morning claiming she deserves more attention so I'm taking her on a date tonight. ”

⁃ Mikasa replies “I’m being forced to meet Niccolo today😐”

⁃ “Okay so you all hate me😩I’ll go alone” you respond to the group chat

⁃ “Yeah that’s exactly what we mean (Y/N)😪😪😪” Sasha replies

⁃ “Yeah whatever.😫 I’ll be over later tonight and bring you guys your usuals if you want” you reply

⁃ “You’re a saint!🛐” Sasha says

⁃ “Sasha’s dorm as usual? I’ll be there around 8 o’clock” Annie says

⁃ “Perfect, I’ll see you guys then, i know you guys love me🥰🥰🥰🥰” you sent the text and began walking to Ackersmith’s

⁃ you walk in and greet Mr.Levi and Mr.Erwin like always “Mr. Leviiiiii! Mr. Erwin!!! It’s your favourite customer!”

⁃ “Oh? I didn’t see Sasha walk in though?” Erwin banters back as you walk towards the counter

⁃ “Yeah yeah, be glad or else you wouldn’t have any pastries left to sell today” you laugh “could I get the usual please?”

⁃ “Of course! I’ll have Levi bring it out to you in a second” Erwin beams and heads towards the machines

⁃ You begin to head to the table usually sit at when you aren’t accompanied by your usual gang but it seems to be taken

⁃ “Grandpa Arlert!?” You exclaim

⁃ Distracted by your excitement, that ethereal black haired Pieck, walks in and sits at a table closest to the entrance by the window. She instantly notices you chatting with (in her eyes) a random sweet old man

⁃ “(Y/N)!” He begins to get up

⁃ “How’s Armin doing? I haven’t heard much from him while he’s been in France but Mikasa tells me so much, maybe too much,  about Eren’s studies abroad”

⁃ “He’s doing well, I miss seeing you 4 all the time. I’m about to be on my way but come see me anytime kiddo” he pats you on the head

⁃ “I’ll come by this weekend okay Grandpa Arlert?” He nods as you sit down and pull out your computer

⁃ Pieck is gazing out the window but every now and then she glances at you. She can’t help but find you adorable when you focus on something— you furrow your brows a bit, squint, and bite your bottom lip

⁃ As Pieck is totally engrossed in your cute little studying quirks, she quickly averts her eyes and your head snaps in her direction as the entrance bells chimes and a couple walks in

⁃ You focus on the couple as the blonde one in a flowy pink dress pushes the stroller to nearby table and the taller brunette one in slacks and a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow goes to order (for the blonde one as well, you assume)

⁃ The gears in your head are shifting as you begin to figure out who the hell that couple could be as they are SO familiar to you

⁃ Then. A lightbulb! “Historia?!” You say to the women about three empty small tables away

⁃ (It’s a local favourite, how could you not see people you know here?)

⁃ (Y/N)?! You get up and start walking over to Historia’s table accompanied by a stroller

⁃ (Y/N)? The tall brunette walks over with a strawberry pastry and a plain croissant

⁃ “Ahh, Ymir!” You exclaim embracing her

⁃ “And who might this little one be?” You question while lovingly waving to inside the stroller which held a baby with dark hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes

⁃ Somehow(?) a perfect mix of Ymir and Historia

⁃ “This is baby Freida” (after her late sister) Historia grabs the about 7-month baby girl and gives her a kiss on her chubby cheek

⁃ “Sooo this is what you’ve guys have been doing since we left high school. I always wondered where you guys took off! You both completely went AWOL “ you chuckle while holding your index finger out as baby Freida grasps it

⁃ “Yeah, after high school I decided to take a gap year and Historia decided to become a CNA, I’m working on my realtor license” Ymir says taking a chomp out of the croissant

⁃ “I’m so happy for you guys! Seeing you guys and plus this cute little one just made my day. Could I hold her?” Your eyes looks as if they’ve been possessed by literal stars

⁃ “Of course!” Historia gingerly hands you baby Frieda and to your surprise, little Frieda giggles while you rub your cheek to the baby’s chubby one smiling

⁃ While this interaction is happening, Pieck has her eyes GLUED to you

⁃ Her heart is bursting at the seams right now. From seeing you interact with the sweet old man you refer to as Grandpa Arlert to you holding a cute ass child AH! Her heart IS exploding

⁃ It’s like she’s emitting a pink aura out of her body and little hearts are circling her as well

⁃ You hand baby Frieda back “it was nice chatting with you guys, text me if you guys are ever back in town!” And with that you retreat back to your original spot

⁃ Hyper focused on what you’re supposed to be doing on your screen you’re interrupted by Levi’s booming voice

⁃ “Hey brat, sorry it took so long. The blender got jammed, probably from all the stupid ice it took to make your dumb frappe”

⁃ “Also, you’re probably too oblivious to notice but, don’t look now, there’s a dark haired girl by the window who has been making googly eyes at you the moment she walked in”

⁃ (WINGMAN LEVI?!?!?!)

⁃ You nonchalantly glide your eyes over to where he was talking about and he referring to Pieck

⁃ THE PIECK FINGER from yesterday

⁃ Your face turns red as you grab the drink from Mr.Levi and begin to stutter

⁃ “I— uh-“

⁃ “Don’t think I didn’t notice your little interaction yesterday” he scoffs hiding a smirk

⁃ …is he referring to me staring at Pieck from the window????

⁃ (That sounds creepy but in an innocent young teen/adult puppy love way)

⁃ “If you’d like, I can send a drink over from you. She ordered the weirdest frappe-combo-shit yesterday so I remember it. It was a matcha frappe with strawberry purée and strawberry drizzle with matcha dusted on top of the whip cream…” he scoffed “but what do I know? I’m just an old married man”

⁃ WINGMAN MR. LEVI!!!!!!

⁃ “Yes! That would be perfect, I trust your gut Mr.Levi!” You hand him your card and he smiles as he begins to walk away

⁃ At this point you’re nervous. Yes you’re looking at your computer but you CANNOT think about anything else but how Pieck will react

⁃ Does she have a boyfriend? That (stupid) undercut guy?

- The tall sweaty guy?

⁃ Or maybe the muscular guy

⁃ No no, she looks too smart to date a meathead

- She seems too outgoing to date a super nervous guy

⁃ Or a seemingly fuckboy

⁃ But who am I to judge her preference?

-Is she even gay?

- She probably has a girlfri--

⁃ “Thank you for the drink” a sweet voice danced in between your clouded thoughts

⁃ You look up and you meet eyes with the one and only, Pieck

⁃ “May I sit here?” She gestures at the empty seat in front of you

⁃ (Mr. Levi’s plan worked?)

⁃ “Of course!” You shyly smile rubbing the back on your nape

⁃ “Your names (Y/N), right?” She took a sip of the drink

⁃ “Hmm.. Doing a bit of stalking I see. How’d you know my exotic drink of choice?” Those heavy words came out so smoothly you could barely react to the accusation

⁃ “Oh! Uh— no it’s not that” you instantly became flustered

⁃ The laugh she let out was so beautiful that it made you stop in your tracks

⁃ A bit of the puree was on her lips, which made them glossy and her head tilted back which let her flowy silky black hair waterfall off her shoulder

⁃ A bit of confidence shot through you

⁃ “Actually, a little birdy told ME that you were the one “stalking” and they decided I should do something to get your attention” you raised an eyebrow

⁃ Pieck’s angelic laughter came to an instant halt and her face become the same colour of the little bit of strawberry purée on her bottom lip

⁃ Now YOU were the one giggling at her reaction

⁃ “Don’t worry don’t worry! You waved your hands in a surrendering motion “in all honestly Mr. Levi said he saw you looking at me today and remembered your ..interesting.. drink from yesterday and also remembered about how I was looking at you when you walked in with your friends and suggested I send a drink over to you” you reassured

⁃ Oh shit

⁃ She giggled at how red your face got after realized what you had just told her

⁃ “Well if you’re going to be honest I will too, I thought you were the cutest thing yesterday. Today really solidified that thought because I mayyyy… have noticed you with that cute little baby” she gave you a languid smile fiddling with her hair nervously

⁃ Taken a bit aback from this

⁃ Are you hearing this correctly???

⁃ “Could I possibly get your number? Maybe later this week we could go on a proper date or something?”

⁃ “I’d love nothing more than that, (Y/N) she gives to the sweetest most genuine smiles there can be

After you exchanged phone numbers, you and Pieck spent about 2 more hours there talking about everything and yet nothing at the same time. You both shared pointless stories about each other’s upbringing, majors, fun stories about your mutual friend Annie, your own friends, and little sarcastic shots at one another here and there before walking her back to her dorm at Liberio University (about a 30 minute walk back to Paradis University)

She thanked you for the fun night by giving you a small peck on the cheek.

When you both returned to your assigned dorms

Pieck spent the night fangirling about you to Porco, Reiner, and a 4th year named Zeke

While you spent your night fangirling to Annie, Sasha, and Mikasa

“Oh (Y/N)!? Speaking about great things you find at the cafe, where’s the drinks? ” Sasha asked after your little spiel about Pieck

“Shit!”

Ackersmith Cafe has always held a special place in your heart but the love you’ve had for the place just got deeper.

sorry if the ending sucks but lmk your thoughts!!!!!! (:

- Kyah

#pieck finger x reader #pieck headcanons #pieck x reader #attack on titan #pieck #pieck finger #attack on titan fanfiction #pieck x you #pieck x y/n #wingman LEVIIIIII #pieck supremacy #attack on titan fanfic

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

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

For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

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

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

“AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

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

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

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

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #not a whiskey drinker #NAWD

[wandering-child-rp]

For the mini fic: what about number 7 things you said while driving for E/C 💖💖

“Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to. I could have gotten the bus.” Christine forced a smile onto her nervous face as Erik gripped the steering wheel a little harder. It was painful for him but he didn’t like the idea of Christine alone on public transport late at night.

The lights of the highway would bathe the saloon car into bright light every so often and gave them both some shadows to hide in. Christine put the lead in her stomach down to nerves.

“I don’t mind driving you. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed a favour.”

“Except I don’t have a car and I cannot drive.” Christine laughed, it was a one-sided friendship. It was strange really. He didn’t seem to have many friends and it was always Christine chasing him. Unless it was after a lesson because then Erik always had a fantastic dinner for her, a great bottle of wine and he was good company. There had been a while when Christine had developed a crush on him but it was never reciprocated. She’d given him a thousand opportunities and lingering a little longer than needed at the door waiting for a kiss that never came.

Her hands stretched over her thighs with a huff of air.

“Nervous?” Erik asked but desperately he didn’t want to hear Christine pour out her feelings about her new boyfriend. He hated the constant buzzing of her phone when they sat together or the way she’d smile and laugh at whatever was on that stupid screen.

“Yeah... a little. I wish he could have come back instead of me flying out to him.” Erik’s large hand landed onto Christine’s with a comforting squeeze.

“I know. It’s sad your missing the season opener.” In his heart of hearts, he wanted Christine to be sat next to him in the box. He wanted to twist the playbill in his hands over and over trying to pluck up the courage to slide his hand into hers. Exactly like it was now. His hazel eyes went wide and he whipped away the warmth all too suddenly leaving Christine confused again and feeling like an imposition.

It would have been nice to go with Erik. He was a gentleman truly. Yes, he was a little older than her but he was sweet and respectful. Meg kept saying it was just a crush on an older man who had that mysterious thing but Christine wasn’t so sure. She laughed at his clever jokes and dumb ones and could listen for hours to him play or dissect a film scene by scene. He lent her books that he thought she needed to read and empowered her beyond belief. Only when she needed it though did he interfere.

</i>

“Your favourite book is ‘Pride and prejudice? Did Mr Darcy like Elizabeth more because she was outspoken and her own woman?” Christine only nodded. “Then stop pandering to these idiots. Yes, take their direction but not when it cuts you down. If it doesn’t stop I’ll bloody tell them.”

“They’re bossy; not romantic though.” She said trying to lighten the atmosphere and stop feeling like such a silly little girl. Erik only raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue trying to keep his attention solely on the tv in front of them. “No one has ever declared their undying love for me.”

“Maybe if you followed the advice.” </i>

Erik remembered that night. The air hung thick as Christine ran her finger around the rim of her glass and the silence rang. He knew he loved her then. It was sudden and all at once; like drowning. He fought it but couldn’t swim to the surface again. It was fine when it was just lessons and direction but then they met up. She didn’t look at the mask but at Erik’s eye. He held his temper and the time it was ragged, she simply laid her hand on his shoulder and then it took all his power not to declare his feelings. Erik wasn’t stupid; she was young, beautiful and smart. Out of his league. Then, she suddenly had a boyfriend on the scene after a connection with an old friend. It was dreadful to watch them. Erik was waiting at the stage door with flowers but they ended up in the trash can when he realised he’d been beaten to the punch.

The pair came to the airport all too quickly. Christine methodically checked off her list for the hundredth time.

“Passport? Yes. Money? Yes. Ticket? Yes. Phone? Yes. Makeup bag? Yep. So, I’m all set.” Christine looked beautiful in her thick sweater, the mass of curls blow dried out by the hairstylist this morning and her body bouncing nervous energy as she smiled widely at Erik with the harsh light reflecting off his mask. “Vienna, here I come! City of opera dreams and I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Erik knew she wouldn’t come back. She had nothing in Paris anymore and her father was back in Sweden. He knew the allure of a new city and a new start but he’d miss her too much to admit. She was tense and clearly something was distracting her, as always, she just blurted it out after only a stern look from her mentor.

“He’s nice, right? He’s not texted much but now a driver is going to pick me up? That’s okay, isn’t it?” Erik wouldn’t dream of it. He would even let her take public transport alone and insisted she stayed in his guest room when he caved and shared a bottle of wine with her.

“Yes.” He replied monosyllabically before adding some care when he saw Christine's face drop a little. “Let me know when you get to his house at least. Goodbye, angel.”

‘Angel’ Christine melted just like when he’d coined the term back for her. She had not known his name when the first note had come or the loud shout across the stage from a fast-moving figure. Erik had told her to start an octave higher and, it had worked perfectly, she had hit the last note despite not knowing. Jokingly, she’d referred to him since as her ‘Angel of music’. It had become truthful as her broken heart had begun to mend itself.

“I can still call you, can’t I?” Erik noted she was picking at the handle of her bag and delaying for time. Nodding, Erik was about to splurge out everything but as he opened his mouth, some jackass behind him started to honk for the drop off space.

“Of course. Good luck with the audition. I’ll come to see you perform, I’m sure.”

He watched her walk away with the backpack that was his before, handbag and battered suitcase decorated with a floral print. It wasn’t medically possible but he was quite sure he could physically feel his heartbreaking. The tears clouded his vision so Erik gave up trying and pulled in for a drive-through coffee he’d normally baulk at. Red and white lights flashed overhead as planes carrying people off to their dreams, vacations and loved ones. The pain came in another crashing wave as he saw the coffee Christine got flash on the menu board; double-shot caramel latte. How was it possible for a coffee to cause a thousand stabs of ice to a heart. Erik reconciled himself to just wait out the hour and a half to watch her plane take off into the night sky. Then he’d go home and drink his body weight in liquor.

The whole plane groaned as the captain announced the delay. They’d sat on the tarmac for half an hour but it felt so much longer for someone as nervous as she was. Christine swore under her breath as she wrestled the backpack from the compartment. Why wasn’t Erik here? He never had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything.

1 Voice Note from ‘Angel of Music 🎶 (ERIK DESTLER). 20 minutes ago. Christine held the phone to her ear as she jostled her way through disgruntled people and his velvet tones spilled into her ears.

‘So, I’m just at Starbucks and I can’t not say this anymore. I’m so sorry to do this, Christine, and like this. Look, just don’t listen past this but let me do it. We can pretend it never happened. I really want you to be happy and I don’t care if that’s not with me but... fuck... I don’t even know why I’m doing this but... here goes. I love you. A lot. Always have and always will. You can’t blame me because look at you and look at me. I know you won’t feel the same but I care for you so much, Christine. My wretched heart will always belong to you. The one who saw through the bullshit. Don’t think nothing or no one is missing you in Paris because I will be. Don’t dwell on it though. Go be happy... If you want to come home or something goes wrong, I’ll buy your ticket home and be waiting to collect you. Anytime, any day, just call me. You can always call me. No questions asked.’ There was a noise of a steering wheel being slapped and Erik squeezing his nose and clearing his throat before a new note started. ‘Anyway, just call me if you need and, best of luck. I know you’ll be perfect and don’t take any shit from anyone. I’ll get over all of this and I’m sorry. Unless you didn’t listen to that message in which case, erm, send me a postcard kid.’

Christine felt like the world had fallen out from under her and anything she thought was true wasn’t anymore. Throwing her handbag onto the seat, she paced around and listened to the message again. Surely she’d misheard him.

Erik perched himself on the wing of his car. His third cup of coffee in one hand a cigarette in the other as he blew smoke into the sky and watched a plane take off. Her flight was seven minutes late but he saw the green tail knew it was her flight as the flight app hadn’t updated with the last-minute delay.

“Fucking hell, Erik...” he mumbled to himself and threw the butt of the cigarette away after only taking three drags. “Stupid bastard...”

Never before had he felt so deflated but with freedom now. It was out into the world regardless of his regrets or lack of. The words where just like the smoke; impossible to catch or recall in the night sky. It was what it was, Erik thought as he sat back in the driver's seat and drummed the leather wheel defeated. He sat there spinning his phone on his thigh whilst the radio played the weather forecast monotonously. He had muted Christine and unmuted her twice just in case she needed him suddenly yet he hadn’t looked to see if she heard the message before boarding. The timing was meant to be that she’d already have shut off her phone before getting on the plane. It was nearly an hour ago since he’d practically bled the words out of his mouth and tonight, he’d go home and get very drunk before sleeping in tomorrow and he’d remain drunk until the opening night of the opera in four days. Then, he’d force himself back together and to face the world.

“Erik?” That voice. His head whipped around quickly and pulled a muscle. “My- my flight got delayed.”

His face visibly dropped but Christine held up her phone with the screen illuminating the picture of the artwork in Erik’s corridor that she adored. It was a perfect metaphor. Even when it wasn’t about him, Erik was never far from her thoughts.

“I got your message.” The young woman was nervous and simply flying on instinct as the moments turned into seconds and she was closing the gap between them and then her body hit his and their lips met in a breathless kiss full of fire and longing. Christine’s smile was large and her eyes crinkled when Erik looked shocked and confused. Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her waist and one knee shook weakly. She was here, in his arms and smiling at the thought of him. “I wish you’d told me before.”

“I didn’t want to cloud our friendship.”

“Friendship? Erik, it was never just a friendship with us. It doesn’t take me five minutes to unlock my door and say goodbye in the car and I wanted you. I thought you could see that-“

In response, his lips met hers again as one palm cradled her cheek. The mask was unforgiving but Christine knew what was underneath already from coming over early months ago. He’d freaked out and was embarrassed but she handled it without a moment of thought.

“Are you staying?” Erik whispered with a voice dripping with dark honey and his nose rubbed against hers as Christine cuddled him close in the chilly night with her arms around his neck.

Several hours later and Erik was kissing Christine’s nude shoulder as he cuddled behind her still unable to sleep despite their activities. Christine hummed in happily nuzzled softly in a bed that smelt of his cologne. She couldn’t stop thanking delayed flights and voice notes of deep thoughts in cars. She could have missed out on her love so easily but as Erik’s chest pressed against her back in his bed, Christine knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

@sloanedestler

#is 2k a mini fic? #I also drafted a totally #different idea for this which I might post if anyone cares #modern day au erik #Erik x Christine #ask box

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 5:

If I die out here alone, for nothing, I will feel so incredibly stupid.

Previous

Note: There is a content warning this chapter for a brief mention of past attempted sexual assault. The mention comes near the end of the chapter.

Read chapter 5 on AO3, or read below:

Despite the damp cool of the basement, I am warm when I finally blink my eyes open to the dim morning light. Cardan has curled up at my back.

Alpha blood tends to run hot, they say. It plays into the general myth that we are opposites in every way: alphas hot, omegas cold; alphas strong, omegas weak; alphas dominant, omegas submissive, and so on. Scientifically the hot-cold theory has a little backing, though we’re talking an average temperature difference of 0.2 to 0.5 degrees max. But with Cardan so close to me, practically radiating heat, I am almost inclined to believe it.

We’re not touching too much. He has sort of nestled his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and if I hadn’t slept in my sweatshirt I could probably feel his eyelashes tickle my skin. His hand found the curve of my waist in the night. But that’s it. The rest of him is a few inches away, like even in sleep he finds it difficult to overcome his revulsion to me.

It’s almost comfortable, if I forget who I am and who he is. Not even what I am and what he is, because Madoc’s position means that if any handsome, eligible alpha bachelors deigned to outright marry an omega, as he had once married our mother, Taryn and I would be the best of the bunch—best-connected, best-educated, best-groomed. No, it’s that he is Cardan and I am Jude, and I have hated him ever since my body put itself at war with my brain, and he has hated me too, just because I was afforded some small amount of privilege without being born into it.

And still, I stay there for a minute, soaking up his warmth. Because I didn’t think I’d have this anytime soon. I didn’t think I’d get to wake up next to a boy cuddling me, not after what happened with Valerian and definitely not after what happened with Locke. And even though these are the worst circumstances, and this is the worst boy, there’s something perversely nice about it.

Or maybe I just like things that are bad for me.

I was thinking of seeing if girls were better when I got to college, but they don’t really explain how alpha-omega girl sex works in school and I am not about to ask Vivi. And now I don’t know if I’ll even make it to college, so maybe it’s not so bad if I steal a moment of peace.

But then the stink of mildew cuts through Cardan’s rich sweet-musky-boy scent and I am forcibly reminded of where we are and why, especially now of all times, I can’t afford to be soft. So I jam my elbow back into his side, and if I do it with maybe a little less force than I normally would, well, it’s not like he knows that.

Cardan awakens with a start. “Ow!” he says, rolling over onto his back and pressing a hand to his side. “What the hell!”

“You’re fine.” I sit up, take down my now grody ponytail, run my fingers through it and begin to put it up again, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “Today’s the day.”

Cardan scowls at me, rubbing his side.

“Do or die day,” I clarify, looping my elastic around another time. “In case you forgot.”

“I remember,” he huffs. “That mattress is terrible.”

“Well, maybe tonight you’ll get to sleep in your own bed. Or maybe we’ll be dead. Or we’ll be locked in this room again and you can sleep on the floor.”

“Such tempting options. However will I choose?”

I roll my shoulders, trying to work the kinks out of my muscles. “My guess is we’re going to be held up with the police for questioning for a long time. You might not have to. Maybe the choice will be made for you.”

“As always, Duarte, I do so admire your rosy outlook.” Cardan finger-combs his hair and sits up all the way, blinking at me. “I’m still worried about the third guy.”

I don’t tell him that I’d been thinking the same thing. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say quietly. “We have two other bridges to cross first.”

Only a minute or so after I say it, there’s that knock on the door. I glance at Cardan, who needs to play the role of alpha today, and wait for him to speak, even though it sucks to defer to him. He takes his time about it, too, stretching his long legs, running his fingers through his hair once more, like he has all the time in the world, like the person on the other end of the door should be so lucky as to strangle him.

Just as I’m about to strangle him, he calls, “Yes?”

The door opens. The scarred man and his gun are there, along with, absurdly, a little paper Starbucks bag in his other hand. An upgrade. He looks at me and Cardan—we’re now both sitting on the mattress, even though we are a few feet apart—but if he has any comments he keeps them to himself. He shakes the bag like he’s trying to call in a wayward dog. “Breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I say, because it is my place to be deferential.

“No coffee?” Cardan asks.

I whip my head around to glare at him. The man grunts, “Didn’t know how you took it.” Disconcertingly, I can’t tell if he has a sense of humor or if he’s serious.

Airily, Cardan says, “Fine. Put it down wherever.”

The scarred man raises both his eyebrows, but he half-sets, half-drops the bag on the floor and backtracks through the door, closing it and leaving us alone. Cardan goes over to retrieve it and peers inside. “Okay, looks like sausage, egg, and cheddar and… turkey bacon?”

I hold out my hand. “Give me the turkey bacon.”

“Oh, thank god,” Cardan says, and this time he doesn’t take a bite out of it before he hands it to me.

“Not a fan of turkey bacon?”

He scowls. “It’s all healthy. Plus, it’s not like turkeys actually have a belly to cut bacon from. You have to grind it up and make it yourself.”

I snort, but am happy for his judgment if it means my breakfast escapes unscathed. It doesn’t surprise me that Cardan couldn’t care less about eating healthily. From what I know, he has a mostly liquid diet, and the liquid is mainly alcohol. Not that it matters much. He probably won’t be able to keep getting away with it after a few more years, but right now his body takes pretty much everything he consumes and uses it to build him more muscle.

I think of how hard I have to strength train for a fraction of what Cardan gains just by existing, and how some of the training shows, especially in my arms and back, but the rest is buried under a cozy layer of body fat, and I kind of want to strangle him again. Just one of the many downsides of being an omega.

Since I don’t have any fun facts about turkey bacon to contribute, we eat breakfast without speaking. We had agreed that it was important to get our strength up for whatever lies ahead, but I find it hard to chew and swallow, even though the sandwich is lukewarm. I end up offering the last half to Cardan, who takes it despite his complaints.

Then, once enough time has passed, he gives me a look, and I nod and stand, shaking my legs out. Instead of staying in my usual corner, I stand next to the door, tense, waiting. With one last glance at me, Cardan strides over and knocks.

We have a system with our captors now. They know that the knocking means we want out for one reason or another. They either call through the door to find out why or just open it right away. This time, the door simply opens. Cardan stays where he is and does not move to the back of the room.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s that time again.”

It’s the woman’s voice I hear, and I am privately thankful. “Okay, back up.”

“But I was hoping I could go first.”

“Back up.”

Cardan takes one step back. It’s now that she realizes that I’m not in my corner. Just a little further, I think. And she gives me the half-step I need.

“What’d you do with your friend?” she asks.

To answer that question, I grab her by her shirt and drag her into the cell.

Surprise is a legitimate advantage, but a fleeting one. Since she’s armed and I’m not, I need to move fast. I don’t have to think much about it. I jam my knee into her stomach; all of the air leaves her lungs in a startled gasp, and her grip loosens on the gun. I pry it from her hand with one of mine and use the other, still fisted into her shirt, to pull her further into the room—and let go.

It only takes a few seconds. I dart out. Cardan has already gone ahead, as I told him to, and I pull the door to behind me, quickly twisting the lock on the knob. That was phase one.

“Um, Jude,” says Cardan.

I turn, raising my stolen pistol in front of me before I do anything else, finger resting dangerously near the trigger. The scarred man stands on the other side of the table, his gun also raised. But instead of aiming it at Cardan, as we thought he would, he is pointing that barrel at me.

“This is a surprise,” he says.

Behind me, the doorknob rattles as the woman realizes I’ve locked her in.

“Let her out,” the man tells us, voice steady and slow.

“Or what?” I ask. Somehow, my voice doesn’t shake. “We’re both armed. Let us go and I won’t shoot you.”

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

He cocks his head to look me over, evaluate my posture, my steady grip. “Huh,” he says, and then he moves to point his gun at Cardan instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I’ll only ask nicely one more time.”

I snort. “Sure. Do me the favor.”

The scarred man raises an eyebrow. Cardan whispers, “Jude?” like he isn’t sure whether or not I am playing a game. I am not sure either. I am intoxicated by the adrenaline pulsing through me.

“We’re not friends,” I clarify. “Shoot him if you want.”

Cardan gives me a panicked look.

“Of course, if you’ve promised to give him back alive, that’s going to cause some trouble.” My palm is sweaty. I shift my grip on the gun. The knob rattles again at my back, and I hear a soft curse, a hand slamming on the door. “It’s your call.”

The man’s lip curls into a kind of terrible smile. “All right, girl,” he says. “You go free. He stays. Leave the gun on the top step.”

I blink. “Really?”

“Final offer.”

I should go right away. Instead, I glance at Cardan, who has gone pale. But he looks at me again, and then, defying all my understanding of him, he whispers, “Go, Jude.”

So I do. Slowly, my entire body quivering with tension, I walk backwards up the stairs, keeping my pistol trained on the scarred man until the last possible moment. I try the knob at the top, and find it unlocked. It seems too easy, but with one last, stomach-churning glimpse of Cardan’s white face, I flee. But I don’t do everything. I do not give up the gun.

The house I step into has obviously long been abandoned—it was probably never even finished. Some of the walls have gaping holes in the plaster, the support beams visible; some were never plastered at all. There is no furniture to speak of. I don’t linger to take it in. I start running, through a hallway, in the direction of what might be the front door. When I find it, I tumble out into bright morning sunlight, and I keep going.

Immediately I know I am well and truly in the middle of nowhere. All around me is a field of overgrown grass. If there is a road, I cannot see or hear it. Still, I have to assume there was once a driveway that led somewhere, so I take off as fast as I can toward a distant line of trees. I do not wonder about Cardan. I do not wonder about anything.

For a minute it is just me, my feet flattening the dew-damp grass, my lungs straining with every breath. I am alone in a way that I haven’t been in days. Then there is a crack from behind me, and then I feel something rush past my face, just missing me. Startled, I drop the stolen pistol, which lands harmlessly in the grass and thankfully does not fire. I don’t stop running for it. Stopping is the last thing I should do, not when I am so close.

Still, my stomach drops. Without slowing too much, I glance over my shoulder back at the house. The second floor is half-intact, and I can kind of see through the wall—there might be a dark shape perched there. A man. The third man.

He’s a sniper.

I swear under my breath, and my panicked heart skips a beat. They chose this place on purpose. There’s no cover out here, giving them a clear view of whoever might be coming or going. Giving them time to move us in case the cavalry arrived. My only choices are to keep running until I am out of range, or stop, and go back. And I am not doing that.

If I die out here alone, for nothing, I will feel so incredibly stupid.

There’s another crack, now unmistakably the sound of a rifle being fired, and this time I feel when it hits—really more of a graze, but it still skims through my flesh about midway up my calf, leaving a tear in its wake. The strange thing is that, at first, being shot doesn’t hurt at all. It doesn’t feel like much of anything. It shouldn’t be enough to make me miss my step. I falter anyway, and when I bring my foot down I land on it wrong and roll my ankle. I drop with a cry into the grass, tears stinging the corner of my eyes.

But even then I keep going, crawling on my hands and knees through the long summer grass, blinking back my tears because I refuse to let myself cry. I don’t look at my ankle or my wound. It is only when I hear the grass crunching underfoot behind me, and a shadow falls over me, that I finally, finally stop moving forward.

I don’t stop fighting, though. The man—Cardan had described him as tall, and he was right—picks me up with some effort and, without a word, throws me over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. After adjusting me a little so my weight is more evenly distributed, he turns to carry me back to the house. All the time I am squirming, trying to kick, pounding at his back with my fists, screaming with the faint hope that someone might hear me. It isn’t enough to get the sniper to loosen his grip on my waist, but I do feel him wince in pain a couple of times, giving me some small, bitter satisfaction.

All I think is, I shouldn’t have dropped the gun.

Despair begins to set in as we reenter the unfinished house, as the sniper shoulders his way through the door to the basement and carries me down the stairs. Cardan is seated in a chair, rumpled but seemingly unharmed, his hands behind his back. Apparently, someone has bothered to tie him up or handcuff him this time. He sits forward when he sees me carried in. “Jude?”

“Are you sure he’s the alpha?” the sniper asks his companions. “He seems to have gone easy on you.” He deposits me into another chair, and the woman is there immediately to cuff my hands, threading the handcuff chain through the chair back so I am well and truly stuck. I see that some of my blood has soaked into the sniper’s black shirt and think, Good. My leg is starting to hurt now, in throbs, like a bad burn.

“You shot her?” Cardan asks, straining against his bonds.

“I’m fine,” I say, avoiding his gaze. I cannot believe he would do something as stupid as give himself up so I could go free. I look at my wounded calf, streaked red. There is an angry-looking tear there, but it could have been much worse. He didn’t hit bone. “It’s a graze.”

“Because he’s good at his job,” says the scarred man.

The sniper shakes his head and disappears into the room beyond the bathroom. He returns with a first aid kit and begins to stoop down next to me so he can clean my calf, but I raise my foot, threatening to kick him again.

“That’s enough,” the scarred man says. “Believe it or not, we don’t want to hurt you kids.”

“Not,” I mutter under my breath.

“Hurting you wasn’t part of the remit unless you misbehaved,” says the sniper. “Is that more believable?”

I scowl and hold out my leg so that he can clean the wound. Cardan’s eyes narrow. “We can’t just trust you,” he says, as a stinging antiseptic pad is applied to the torn skin and I flinch. “We don’t even know who you are. Give us something. Names. Something to call you.”

The scarred man and the woman look at each other. The woman says, “You can call me the Bomb. This is the Roach. That—” She points to the sniper. “Is the Ghost. You can figure out why for yourself.”

“You call yourself the Roach?” Cardan asks. “Wow. I mean, love yourself a little.”

To my surprise, the man grins. “Not my choice, but we don’t get to choose. How’s her leg?”

“The twisted ankle is going to give her the most trouble,” the Ghost replies. He presses a clean cotton pad to the wound and binds it in gauze. Then he starts on wrapping my ankle. He’s efficient; he’s done this before. “Although I’m guessing we don’t want her mobile anyway.”

“I wouldn’t mind if she taught me a couple of moves,” the Bomb says, rubbing her stomach. I wonder if I bruised her. “What was that, karate?”

“Krav maga,” I admit, glaring at the Ghost as he props my foot up on the nearest empty chair. Ignoring me, he stands and leaves to wash his hands. “I’ve been training since I was nine.”

The Roach lets out a low whistle. “Someone didn’t want you getting jumped.”

I turn my glare on him. “For all the good it did me.”

For reasons I don’t understand, the Roach grins and holds up his hands. “This? This is just a paperwork dispute. Once everything’s signed and sealed, we’ll turn you loose.”

“Lot of hassle for some paperwork,” Cardan remarks. “You could have just let Jude go if it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“I’m starting to see it,” the Bomb says to the Ghost. “Although, yeah, I could have sworn the girl was the alpha too for a second there.”

And if that isn’t absurd enough, Cardan leans toward me across the table and asks, “Did they teach you how to slip handcuffs in krav maga school?”

“Do you want to dislocate your thumbs?” the Ghost asks abruptly, reemerging from the bathroom.

I give Cardan a shrug and a nod—that is how to do it—and he shudders.

“Look, we know just about everything there is to know about this guy,” says the Roach, pulling out the last empty chair and sitting across from me. “But now I’m curious about you.”

I blink. “There’s not much to say.”

“He has quite a file on him,” says the Bomb, jerking her head to indicate Cardan, who pulls an innocent face. “But you were nowhere in it. We thought you were a bystander, a fling, or maybe his new girlfriend—”

“His what?” I squawk.

“But you’re way more interesting than that,” the Roach concludes. “Cardan told us this whole little escape plan was yours.”

The Ghost, for his part, leans against the wall, folds his arms over his chest, and says nothing. I decide I would like him best except for the part where he shot me.

“Why don’t you just let Cardan tell my life story, then?” I snap, angry at everything and everyone.

“Gladly,” Cardan says, looking a little too gleeful. “Jude Duarte was born with a chip on her shoulder. She’s glaring about ninety percent of the time and never lets her guard down, ever. As far as I know, she’s only gotten drunk once. She and her sister were the first omegas to graduate from our school, and Jude staged a coup by being named valedictorian, too, as if being first at just one thing wasn’t good enough. Our last semester, she gave a kid a black eye and got him expelled.”

“Why?” The Bomb asks. “What did he do?”

Cardan lapses into an embarrassed silence that I don’t really understand. Valerian had been his friend, once. Maybe still is. I say casually, “He tried to do what alphas always do,” like I don’t still feel the awful weight on top of me, the cheekbone cracking under my knuckles. “So I did what I had to.”

“They expel kids for that now?” asks the Roach. “Huh. Good on them.”

“Jude’s dad made a persuasive case,” Cardan says.

They exchange bemused glances. The Ghost asks, “Who’s her dad?”

Cardan and I look at each other across the table. They really don’t know.

“My adoptive father,” I clarify, because it matters. “He’s a lawyer. Uh, his last name’s Madoc?”

“Oh,” says the Roach. “Shit.”

Next

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 13

A/N: We’re getting into some seeeeerious business now.  Thank you all so much for your anons and DMs about last chapter!  Hopefully you all enjoy this one despite the subject matter.  

Also, if you didn’t see my post, I created a Ko-Fi page in case you ever want to support my work / my writing: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster .  I love all of you so much and appreciate the reader engagement I have with you SO much!

TW: workplace harassment

December 21st, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in a meeting.

Brendan was addressing the room, full of practically everybody who worked on the administrative side of the Leafs.  Because it was just a few days until Christmas, he wanted to address everybody before the holiday to thank them for their hard work.  It was also the day that Brendan decided to hand out the Christmas gifts for all the employees – a “swag bag” with a S’well bottle, candy and chocolate from Sugarfina, a coffee tumbler from Yeti, a Patagonia sweater with a Leafs embroider, and a Raptors toque.  Aberdeen knew because she helped assemble them – literally and figuratively, because Brendan had asked for her opinion on a few of the inclusions.  She was happy to see everybody loved the gifts.

As the meeting began to wind down, Brendan singled out some specific people who had earned a promotion.  She was glad they were getting the recognition they deserved, because she knew how hard everyone worked.  It was a great gesture, and a nice way to wind down the meeting – letting everybody leave on a good note—

“And my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom,” Brendan’s words completely caught her by surprise.  She could feel a blush rush to her cheeks as many of the eyes in the room focused on her.  “Just a couple of weeks ago, Aberdeen pulled off the nearly impossible – she managed to track down Niklas Lidstrom while he was in Toronto to get a signed Tre Kronor jersey from 2006 for our special guest, Colonel Richard Brant.  But not only did she get the jersey – get this – she got Nik to come meet the colonel backstage.”

There was a round of applause for Aberdeen.  Now she was really embarrassed.  There was no reason for him to single her out like this – like she told him, she was just doing her job.  She smiled awkwardly at everyone.  Even Brendan was clapping.  When it died down, he continued.  “So, even though she had a bit of a rough start – like everybody does when they first start with the Leafs – I’m so happy to see how much she’s grown and integrated herself into our family.  So…great work, Aberdeen!”

Another round of applause.  Aberdeen continued to smile awkwardly and even through in an awkward wave for good measure.  Brendan said a few more words before the meeting ended, everybody filing out of the room patiently.  When she approached him, as one of the last bodies to leave, she gave him a stern look.  “How’d you like that?” Brendan asked.

“Please never, ever do that again,” she said, giggling at the end.

“Why not?”

“Because I told you I was just doing my job.”

Brendan shrugged his shoulders.  “And you did a damn good job of it, so everybody should know.”

As they walked back into his office together, she saw a perfectly wrapped box lying on his desk on top of all his newspapers and other things.  It was very, very rare that things were delivered directly to him – usually it went through her first, and Brendan had no problem with her opening his work mail because it was part of her job and all his personal stuff got sent to his house anyway – so it definitely piqued her interest.  “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s your gift.”

Aberdeen’s brows furrowed.  “But I got my swag bag in the room.”

“I know that, silly,” he smiled.  “It’s my gift to you.”  Aberdeen stopped dead in her tracks, giving Brendan another look.  “What?” he asked.  “Are you seriously surprised?  You think I wouldn’t get you something?”

“Sort of…” Aberdeen admitted.  “But also…I was going to give you my gift to you on Monday.  It’s underneath my desk,” she laughed.

Brendan let out a hearty chuckle.  “Why’d you get me a gift?”

“You’re my boss!”

“Go get it.  We’re doing it now.  I’ll be too busy with kids being everywhere on Monday.”

Aberdeen quickly made her way to her desk and retrieved the gift, hidden in her bottom drawer.  It wasn’t large by any means, but she did put thought into it and she did have to enlist her mom for some help.  When she went back into his office, he closed the door behind them.  “It’s not much…” she began, comparing the size of the box on his desk to hers.

“You should be saving your money anyway,” he quipped.

Aberdeen sat in one of the chairs and handed him his gift across his desk.  He unwrapped the Christmas wrapping paper to see something wrapped in tissue paper and a Prada box.  Taking off the top of the Prada box, he was greeted with a blue and white patterned silk tie.  He shook his head but smiled.  “Aberdeen…”

“I had to get you something from Prada one of these days since you always send me there,” she smiled.  

“I love it.  It’s very fashionable.  What are the kids saying these days?  It’s lit?”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s lit, Aberdeen.  Thank you.”

“Thanks.  Although I think you’ll like the other gift better,” she said.

Brendan placed the box with the tie on his desk and focused on what was wrapped in the tissue paper.  When he unwrapped it, he saw that it was a card, made out of thick construction paper glued together.  Along the front were the words “With Love from St. Leo”, and in the middle, a big maple leaf cut out and painted with multi-coloured fingerprints.  When he opened it, the card had been signed by every student from her mom’s grade one class.  A small message was printed out by her mom:

Dear Mr. Shanahan,

We love the Toronto Maple Leafs and we love you!  We heard you came to this school a long time ago.  You and the Maple Leafs can come visit our class anytime you want and we can show you how well we read!

Love, Mrs. Bloom’s grade 1 class

Aberdeen watched as Brendan read over the card, looking at all the names printed, and his eyes glossed over with tears.  He smiled.  “Well would you look at that…” he mumbled, nodding his head slightly.  He already knew he was going to display this forever in his office.

“She means it, by the way,” Aberdeen said, trying to lighten the mood.  She didn’t think it would get him so emotional.

“Oh, I believe it,” he nodded again.  “This is really, really special to me Aberdeen.  Thank you.  I…it’s always nice to remember where you came from, you know?  This will remind me,” his tone was so sincere.  

“You’re most welcome,” she smiled.  

Brendan moved to display it on his desk.  He composed himself before picking up the box that started this whole thing and handing it to her.  “For you,” he said.  “Although I don’t know if it’ll top that card.”

She unwrapped the pretty ribbon and beautiful wrapping paper – clearly Catherine or one of his kids had helped, because for all the skills he had, she didn’t think he was capable of this wrapping on his own.  As she tore it apart, a box with the embossed logo and lettering of Smythson London stared back at her.  Aberdeen stopped.  “You didn’t.”

Brendan only smiled at her.

She was already overwhelmed because she knew how expensive Smythson London notebooks were – the smallest, cheapest, and most basic notebook ran for around £40.  But when she opened the box to find three notebooks – two small navy blue Soho notebooks retailing at £195 each and a large gold Portobello notebook retailing at £235, each of them personalized with her initials which she knew cost even more – she felt even more overwhelmed.  “Brendan…” she whispered, running her fingers over the embossed calf leather.

“I hear writers write in notebooks or something,” he joked once he saw the look on her face.  “Anyway, I want you to have these.  And when you get published and become super famous and they display all your notebooks in museums like they do with Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, I want to see one of those behind the glass.”

“I hope I get published one day…” she said quietly, almost to herself.  

“You will,” Brendan said assuredly.

Aberdeen nodded.  The material part of his assertion was nice – the notebooks – but what obviously meant more to her was the sentiment.  Hearing his tone and the confidence in his voice meant that he believed in her.  He wanted her to succeed.  That meant more to her than anything.  “Thank you, Brendan,” Aberdeen said in the same sincere tone he thanked her with earlier.  “That means a lot to me.”

Brendan could only smile again.  “I like to think I knew what I was doing when I hired you.”

“Was it all part of the Shanaplan?”

“Do not,” he giggled, shaking his head.  He hated that term, and she knew it.  “Go on.  Get out of here.  Go start your novel on your lunch break or something.  Actually, before you do, can you go down to scouting and give them these for me please,” he said, handing her a stack of files.

She smiled.  All was right and normal in the world again.

***

It was a few hours later when Aberdeen found herself in the staff kitchen, warming up a croissant she’d gotten earlier in the day from Starbucks as a snack before she and Brendan had to start preparing for the game against the Red Wings.  She had a fresh batch of files from scouting in her arm for Brendan to look over as she stuck the croissant in the microwave.  It was then that Ethan walked in, no snack in hand but instead wielding a tea packet.  She ignored him.  She wasn’t going to grace his presence with a greeting and, though it was probably a bit immature, she didn’t care.  He’d said and done enough to her that she didn’t want to be the first one to engage at all.  

“Good afternoon,” Ethan half-mumbled, engaging first.

Aberdeen looked at him.  “Hello,” she said curtly.

“Nice swag bags, huh?” he asked, trying to engage more.  Aberdeen only nodded her head.  “Did you put them together?”

“Of course I did.”

She hoped her short responses and tone were getting across that she didn’t want to speak to him, but Ethan couldn’t read a room to save his life, so he kept going.  “You know, a lot of us were jealous in that meeting that Brendan was praising you so much,” he said.  “We couldn’t believe you pulled that Lidstrom thing off.”

“Guess I’m surprising a lot of people lately,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, setting the files down on the counter.  He didn’t have to tell her people were jealous.  She had a hunch that it was only him who was jealous, and not anybody else in his department.  “Especially you.”

“He must really like you to publicly praise you like that.  He doesn’t do that often, you know.”

“Does that officially make me better at my job than you?” she asked cheekily.  “You know, after you told me I can’t do the job at the Major Donor Gala.”

Ethan threw his head back at the fact that she brought that up again.  He moved to stand behind her as she stuck her food in the microwave.  “Abbie, come on.  You know I rib you because I think you’re good at your job.”

Well that was news to her, because for the last three and a half months, all he’d been doing was making her job a living hell and telling her how much she couldn’t do her job.  This complete 180 was out of the norm, even for him.  “You’ve known me for three and a half months and you’ve consistently called me every name in the book besides my actual name,” she said, turning around to face him, bringing up the other thing that was annoying her about this whole interaction.  “Don’t try to suck up to me now just because you know for a fact Brendan actually likes me.”

“Aberdeen, do you realize how cutthroat the hockey world really is?” Ethan began.  It was at that moment that she realized how close he really was to her; how there wasn’t much room between the two counters of the galley kitchen anyway, but that he was closer to her than normal, than what anybody would consider normal, and it was starting to make her a bit nervous.  “Do you realize how much backstabbing there is?  How many people cross each other all the time just to get promoted or get ahead?  If the little guys like us are going to survive in this industry, or any other industry adjacent to this one, we’re going to need to stick together.”

Aberdeen shook her head.  “You’re trying to use me and it’s so blatantly obvious,” she said sternly, turning around so she wasn’t facing him anymore.  She didn’t want to face him anymore.  “You can’t fool me, Ethan.  Now get out.”

“C’mon, Abbie,” his voice was low, and extremely, extremely close to her ear.  She could practically feel him breathing down her neck.

Then she realized.

“Stop calling me that.”  She tried to make her voice sound strong but it only came out weak as she felt his body pressing up against her back.  Angry tears welled in her eyes as her emotions broke through.  Her chest began to rise and drop from her heavy breaths.

“Abbie, the hockey world is full of favours that help people move up and excel at their job,” Ethan said.

And then she felt it.  His hand on her ass.  Her mind went into overdrive.  She shifted and reached her elbow up and across to push it away, which she did, thankfully.  “Get your hands off me,” she said as firmly as she could.

She turned around quickly so he couldn’t do it again.  Her back leaned against the counter, and she saw he had taken a small step back, but they were still unnaturally close.  “Abbie—”

“Get away from me,” she tried again.

“Just listen—”

“Is things okay in here?” a deep voice asked from the door way.  Ethan took a quick step back further as the both of them looked to see Pierre Engvall standing in the doorway awkwardly, holding a protein shake.  He seemed to be assessing the situation, but Aberdeen had no clue how long he had been standing there.  She would have seen him, she thought, if he had been there long.  

“Pierre!  Good to see you up here buddy!” Ethan put a smile on his face, walking over to him.  Ethan left her standing at the kitchen counter, chest still heaving.  “Feeling good being up with the Leafs?” he asked, switching his demeanour completely.  Aberdeen felt sick to her stomach at how fast he could switch from doing what he was trying to do, to being so buddy-buddy with Pierre.  

“Is there a party going on in here?” another voice asked from out in the hall.

Aberdeen’s stomach dropped.  Right then and there, William popped into the doorway.  He looked between Ethan’s shit eating grin, Pierre’s serious stare, and Aberdeen’s face, red from trying to hold back her emotion as her chest still heaved.  His brows furrowed.  “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine!” Ethan said quickly, shifting to get out of the room.  He looked over his shoulder once more at Aberdeen, taking his phone out of his pocket.  “I’ll email you what Brendan was asking for as soon as I get back,” he called out as he left the room, walking down the hall and disappearing up the staircase.

William was trying to piece everything together.  He looked at Aberdeen.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, forgetting about her lunch and gathering the files folders quickly and messily in her arms.  

“Aberdeen—”

“Just leave me alone!” she whispered harshly as she shoved past the two large hockey players.

William and Pierre watched as she marched down the hallway, disappearing into the staff washroom.  When they couldn’t see her anymore, William looked at Pierre.  “What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Pierre shook his head, trying to piece together and remember everything that he saw – at least the tail end that he saw – with all the visual, emotional, and verbal cues that just happened.  “I…I walked in and he was really close to her and—and—you don’t think—”

William saw red.  He didn’t even wait for Pierre to finish his thought or sentence – he started marching down the hallway to Brendan’s office.  Pierre followed.

He was the eyes, after all.

***

Aberdeen didn’t know how long she was in the washroom for.  She didn’t know how long she’d been crying but also trying to keep herself from not crying and just making herself redder in the process.  She couldn’t believe that had just happened to her…that Ethan would do something so awful and so heinous.  It had happened to her at clubs before – a quick squeeze or a pat on her ass, unwanted grabs of her hips, or awkward leans ins to try to get a kiss – but in those instances, she was able to swat the boys away, scream at them or tell them off, or her friends would intervene and help.  She didn’t do that this time, for some reason.  She couldn’t, maybe.  Maybe because they were alone?  Because she truly felt helpless?  Because she really did feel like Ethan could get away with whatever he wanted – he had been for the past few months with her alone, she couldn’t even imagine what he was doing to other people, specifically to other women – so what was the point?

But as she kept thinking about it, she came to a conclusion: that she couldn’t let him ruin her life because she still had her whole life ahead of her.  That even though she’d just become another statistic – another woman sexually harassed at work – it wasn’t her primary identifier, and she would never let it identify her.  She was so much more than that.  She had to put it behind her and had to overcome.  

She looked at herself in the mirror.  Her eyes were red, but there was nothing she could do now.  All she could do was keep doing her job.  And all she had to do was avoid Brendan until she looked normal again.  She unlocked the door and stepped out, trying to walk inconspicuously down the hallway.

“ABERDEEN!” Brendan called out loudly from his office.

She stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway.  She didn’t even have time to go hide from him, let alone breathe, because Brendan popped his head out the door of his office and looked around feverishly.  When he saw her, he immediately noticed the redness in her eyes and cheeks.  “Aberdeen, I need to speak to you inside my office,” his voice went ten times softer than what it was.

She was caught.  She followed him in, trying to think of ways she could lie to him or make an excuse for why she had been crying.  But when she walked in and saw Pierre and William standing in the room, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it.  She sat down in the same chair she had been sitting in earlier in the day.  It felt different now than it had then, when they were exchanging gifts.  “Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I watched a sad video on YouTube and—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan said firmly but calmly.  He looked her straight in the eye.  “Do.  Not.  Lie.  To.  Me.”

She took a deep breath.  She looked at Pierre, who had a sympathetic and extremely worried look on his face.  She looked at William, who looked ready to explode right then and there.  “Umm…there…there was an incident—”

“An incident?”

“In the staff kitchen.”

“With who?” Brendan asked.  “Was it with Pierre or William?”

“No.  God, no,” she shook her head vehemently.  “It, um…it was…I don’t…I don’t—”

“Was it with Ethan Baker?” Brendan filled in her stutters.  He could see how pained she was.  His hands gripped the armrests of his chair.  Aberdeen couldn’t look him in the eye.  She nodded her head once, bringing her hand up to wipe a tear away.  “If we check the cameras will we see that he touched you inappropriately?” Brendan asked again.  Clearly William and Pierre had told him what they thought happened.

Aberdeen couldn’t – didn’t – even register that Brendan mentioned cameras, that the entire thing was probably caught on a camera.  She couldn’t form words.  She could only nod her head.  Slightly, too.  Not even enthusiastically.  Pathetically.  

Brendan didn’t say another word.  He picked up the phone on his desk and called an extension.  “I need Gary to share the last hour of the security footage from the staff kitchen right this instant.”

Aberdeen shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  A few more words were exchanged before Brendan hung up the phone.  “You’re going to tell me what happened,” he said, before spinning his chair slightly to face Pierre and William.  “And then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards Pierre, who followed Brendan’s finger and sat to the left of Aberdeen, “and then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards William, who sat to the right of her.

Aberdeen recalled everything: walking in, the conversation they’d had, the things Ethan had said to her, where he moved and how he got there and the feeling of how close he was behind her.  Brendan wrote everything down.  When she recounted how she felt his hand on her ass, Brendan and Pierre visibly scowled.  William looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall.  When she mentioned Pierre in the doorway, Brendan stopped her and let Pierre take over.  Pierre told her what he saw – he’d come in at the last possible second of seeing Ethan’s hand on her ass before she pushed it away.  When it was William’s turn, he mentioned how upset Aberdeen was and how she looked ready to cry.  A notification sound came through on Brendan’s iPad and she knew it was the video footage.

“Aberdeen…” Brendan tried to say softly, though he was saying it through gritted teeth.  “Have there been any other incidents like this one?”

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Has he even been inappropriate or demeaning in any other way?”

And there it was: the million dollar question.  She remembered everything Ethan had done to her and everything he’d said; she was hyperaware of his presence around her at all times since her first day of work, so she felt like she had to remember everything.  In her hesitation, she made eye contact with William.  The way he was staring at her, it was like he was begging her to say something.  But William.  Poor William.  He only knew about the bag incident because he had intervened.  Now the floodgates were about to open.  “Yes…” Aberdeen nodded her head, taking a deep breath.  

“What were they?”

Aberdeen reminded Brendan of the coffee incident from her first day, but then recalled the long list of others: the bag carrying incident where William stepped in; the “Girl Friday” and “Brendan girl” nicknames he’d given her; the slightly inappropriate flirting at the Major Donor Gala and the things he’d said to her when she didn’t reciprocate; the comments he’d made to her at the Christmas party.  Brendan kept writing everything down.  The more she told, the angrier his scribbles got and the harder he pressed down onto the paper.  The more she told, the more William looked like he was about to rip Brendan’s massive solid oak desk in two with his bare hands like Captain America did with that log.

“Anything else?” Brendan asked.

Aberdeen hesitated.  “Um…no.”

“Aberdeen.”

She could feel William look at her as she looked down to avoid any eyes on her.  “There was um…there was an incident where I was in the staff kitchen heating up a snack wrap, and he asked if I should really be eating it because nobody likes a piggy working for a hockey team.”

Time stood still as Brendan, Pierre, and William looked at her, completely and utterly speechless at the words that had just come out of her mouth.  She tried to fixate her eyes on something in the room, but she landed on William’s balled up fist in his lap, his knuckles white from how much anger he felt.  It took Brendan reaching over to his phone and dialling another extension for any semblance of time to pass.  “Can you let Ethan Baker know he needs to come into my office in ten minutes?  Thanks.”

Aberdeen knew what that meant.  “Brendan—”

“Don’t Aberdeen,” he grabbed his iPad and swiped to his mail to get the security footage.  Everything that Aberdeen had said, what Pierre had said, what Willy said – it was all corroborated by the video.  Ethan wouldn’t be able to get out of it no matter how hard he tried; no matter what charms he tried to pull on Brendan.  Not that Brendan would fall for them.  “He’s never working another day in his life for any professional sports organization,” Brendan mumbled.  “And I’ll make sure of that.”

Aberdeen was shocked.  “That’s—that’s ruining his life—”

“You’re right – I am the one ruining his life,” Brendan said sternly, lifting any feelings of burden off of her immediately.  

“And he deserves to have it ruined,” William piped up, his tone scathing.  Pierre nodded in agreement.

“You two can go back to the locker room and do what you need to do to prepare for the game tonight,” he said to Pierre and William.  Pierre got up first, and had to wait for William, who didn’t want to leave.  It wasn’t until Brendan urged him with a slight head nod that he got up out of his seat.  Brendan waited until they left completely to continue.  “You can go home, Aberdeen.  If you want to take the Next Gen day off I won’t mind at all—”

“I don’t want to.”

Brendan stopped.  “You what?”

“I don’t want to go home and I don’t want to take the Next Gen day off.  Just let me do my job,” she said.

“Aberdeen, I really think—”

“If I go home all I’m going to do is wallow in this feeling.  All I’m going to do is think about it over and over again until I cry some more.  I don’t want to let him get to me more than he already has.  Just…just let me do my job.  Please.”

***

William booked it out of Scotiabank Arena the second he was able to.  Despite the team winning 4-1 against the Red Wings, William’s mind was somewhere else.  He was able to keep focused, sure, and make plays and complete passes, but there were other things that occupied his mind.  He didn’t even change into his suit – after showers and media, he left in his workout gear.  There was no point in suiting up.  He knew exactly the places he needed to go and exactly what he needed to do.  

When he got to the lobby of Aberdeen’s apartment, he typed Kasha’s name into the call system and waited to hear one of their voices to let him in.  However, there was no voice – only an acceptance of the call, and a click of the door opening.  He rushed towards the elevators.  He remembered the floor number easily.  

The door was already slightly open.  When William showed up in the doorway there were three people in the apartment, and luckily, none of them were members of Aberdeen’s family.  He didn’t take her as the type to have her parents talk her through a crisis like this one – she was too independent and maybe a bit too stubborn for that – but he knew she’d already called Siena about it.  It was what he would do with his brother.  Aberdeen had already washed all her makeup off and had her hair in a bun, and was standing in a hoodie and pyjama shorts as she cradled Minerva in her arms.  He recognized one of the people as Kasha, but had no idea who the guy was.

Kasha was the first to see him.  Her eyes widened when she recognized him.  “William?”

Everybody’s eyes turned to him.  Aberdeen’s were bulging out of their sockets in shock.  He saw that they were red – that she’d been crying again, probably recounting everything to Kasha once she got home.  “Hey,” he said.

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at him.  Kasha noticed that William was shifting his focus between Evan and Aberdeen and knew she had to be the one to break it.  “Will, this is my boyfriend Evan.  Evan, uh, this is William Nylander.  Aberdeen’s…uh…work colleague.”

Evan moved to shake William’s hand politely.  “You guys work together?” he asked, his voice upbeat.  “Are you another assistant with MLSE?”

Kasha intervened before anybody else could.  “Evan, William’s a player for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Evan’s eyes widened at the revelation.  It began to sink in to him how…interesting it was to have a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs in the apartment of his girlfriend.  “Ooooooooh, okay,” he nodded slowly.  “Sorry.  I don’t watch hockey.”

“It’s probably better that way,” William quipped.

“I…that was you calling?” Kasha asked.  William nodded his head.  “I thought you were the Uber Eats we ordered.”

“I’m not Uber Eats but I brought Sugo for…uh…” he held up the bag.

“Sugo’s been closed for like, two hours…” Kasha furrowed her brows.

“They’re not when you’re…me,” William said.  He stared directly at Aberdeen.  “Can we talk?”

Aberdeen stayed silent.  She looked at Kasha and Evan first.  Kasha held her hands up in front of her.  “Don’t look at me.  He’s your friend.”

“Kasha—”

“I don’t mind him being here at all,” she said, knowing what the question would be.  If she had to push them together herself, she would.  “And you know I’m not going to say a word.  He won’t say anything either,” she nodded towards Evan.  “If you guys need to talk, then talk.  Evan and I will be in my room.”

“We will?” Evan asked as Kasha yanked his arm.  “We will.  Nice to meet you Will,” he said as he was dragged towards Kasha’s bedroom, the door slamming behind them.

Aberdeen and William looked at each other.  She’d barely moved since he walked in the door.  She knew with every fibre of her being that he wasn’t supposed to be here, but she couldn’t help but feel…solace? relief? gratitude? as he stood there with his blonde hair and blue eyes and that dumb but cute look on his face.  “I got some pasta and their giant meatballs,” he said softly, setting the bag down on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a bit strained.

“What do you think I’m doing here, minskatt?” he asked.  “I needed to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to brush him off.

“Aberdeen…” he said softly.  “I’m trying to be here for you.  Will you let me?”

His words sounded so soft and so sincere that it almost broke her.  There was no way she could say no, no way that she could ask him to leave and deny him.  After everything that they’d been through, after everything he’d ever said to her, the hotel room visits, everything – she couldn’t deny him this.  He wanted to be there for her, and she was going to let him.  She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape her.  “Plate that pasta and bring it to my room,” she said quietly.

William’s eyes bulged in shock for a split second before he began moving around the kitchen trying to find an appropriate plate.  He kicked off his shoes before grabbing a fork and walking into her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.  He looked around, and it was just as he remembered it.  It had been a while, but the events of that night in June still played over and over in his mind.  If he thought about it hard enough, he could imagine the feeling of her bare skin underneath his fingertips.  

He found her sitting on her daybed, Minerva lying on her legs and her laptop on her desk chair that was placed at the edge of her bed like a TV stand.  He handed her the plate full of pasta and meatballs before climbing into bed beside her, sitting right next to her so their bodies were touching.  “He deserved what he got, you know.  After that piggy story I wanted to go to his office and strangle him with my bare hands.”

She nodded her head softly.  “I know.  I got that from seeing how white your knuckles were in your lap.”

“Do you want to know how Brendan did it?” he asked.  She didn’t respond, so he just went for it.  “He called Ethan into his office and he asked him what his dream hockey organizations were to work for.  As Ethan said them, Brendan wrote them down.  Then Brendan showed him the video, and in front of Ethan, called the president or GM of the teams he mentioned and blacklisted him.  He told them never to hire him because he was a sexual harasser.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to think.  She knew William didn’t tell her that to get a reaction out of her, and she knew he wasn’t expecting one either.  It was harsh, very harsh.  Ethan’s career in the sports industry was ruined, that was for sure.  It was a fitting end to a guy who was such a dick.  And more than anything, she realized one important thing: Brendan cared about her.  He cared about her so much he’d ruin another man’s career for harming hers.  “Good,” she mumbled.  

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that was going on?” he asked.  “You promised me you’d tell me, Aberdeen, and you broke that promise.”

She shook her head.  She couldn’t deal with this right now.  She knew she should have said something earlier, but she was the lowest person on the metaphorical totem pole, and she didn’t think it was worth William’s time or effort.  “Please don’t.”

“I could have helped you, Aberdeen—”

“William, please,” her tone was strained, her voice begging.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  I don’t want to keep reliving it.  I just want to sit here with you and eat this giant plate of pasta with these giant meatballs, okay?  Please.”

William looked at her for a few moments, directly into her eyes, before he nodded his head.  It was all he could do.  He didn’t want to make her relive it any more than she had to.  And, quite frankly, he didn’t want to have to think about it, because thinking about what Ethan did to her made his blood boil and made him want to search every street and apartment in the city for Ethan so he could punch him.  She’d let her guard down, however minimally, and said she wanted to sit there with him.  If him sitting next to Aberdeen was going to make her feel okay, he was going to do just that.  If just being there, physically, was enough for her, then it was enough for him.  “What are we watching?”

“The Real Housewives of New York City.”

He smiled.  “Alright.  Real Housewives it is.”

With Minerva sleeping on her legs, Aberdeen downed the plate of pasta.  William couldn’t really keep up with the show, with all its drama and all the ladies gossiping over events he had no clue about, but that didn’t really matter.  All he was really focused on was Aberdeen.  And as her body language softened the more she worked through the giant plate of pasta, the more comfortable she became.  When she was done, she leaned forward and put the plate on her dresser.  She’d deal with it later.  

When she curled her arm underneath his, he rested his hand on her legs and she leaned her head onto his bicep.  Their bodies couldn’t be any closer, and now they were starting to intertwine.  It wasn’t long before her breathing steadied, and when the screen went dark during a scene, William could see through the reflection that she was sleeping peacefully against him.  He closed the laptop with his foot.  

He moved to lie her down in her bed.  The disruption in position made her grumble slightly, though she was still latched on to his arm.  “Willy?” she mumbled out.

The use of his nickname that everyone else called him but she never did until now brought a small smile to his face.  “Minskatt?”

She didn’t say anything else, but she made it clear she didn’t want to let him go.  And she showed it by grabbing onto him tighter.  When he lay down in her tiny bed with her – seriously, it was tiny and there was barely enough room for his body, let alone both of theirs – she closed her eyes again.  Comfortable.  Safe.  Protected.  

William closed his eyes too, letting his feelings of serenity overwhelm him.

***

Aberdeen woke up with the sun, which she was mad about because she had the day off and wanted to sleep in until it was an acceptable time to have brunch.  Her body still felt fatigued from yesterday, but her mind – even her mind still felt tired, like she’d barely gotten any sleep.  She saw Minerva curled up at William’s feet and smiled.

William.

William.

William was in bed with her.

The events of the night before came back to her – him showing up at the apartment with takeout Sugo; eating the giant plate of pasta and meatballs all on her own; sitting on her bed and watching the Real Housewives of New York; resting her head on his arm until she fell asleep.  He’d stayed the night.  For the second time in one month, she’d shared a bed with William.  The first time, they’d stayed on their respective sides because the bed was big enough – it was respectful and innocent, but she had still kicked him out in the early morning in complete fear.  But now, there was no respective sides.  She felt his hand underneath her hoodie on her bare skin.  She felt his body pressed up against hers, holding her delicately.  She felt his chest rising and falling softly.  But mostly, she felt the grip of his hand holding hers, cradling it near his chest.

For the first time, she didn’t mind.  And she didn’t pull away.

_______________________

Sexual harassment in the workplace resources:

from the Women’s Legal Education and Action Fund: Sexual Harassment at Work - What Can I Do About It?

from the Ontario Human Rights Commission: Policy on Preventing Sexual and Gender-Based Harassment 

from The Muse: Here’s What You Can Do If You’re Sexually Harassed at Work

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment Practical Strategies: How Do I Deal with Sexual Harassment?

from Canadian Labour Relations: Sexual Harassment Lawyers and Attorneys: a Legal Solution

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment - Legal Standards

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #william nylander blurb #toronto maple leafs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #the president wears prada series

[shesawriter39049]

|AFTER HOURS| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X OC 

About-  Your husband and business partner finds you up way past acceptable work hours for the 3rd night in a row! So, daddy has to step in and remind you that’s not something we do in this household. You come before work, in every sense of the phrase!

OR- Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in a open relationship with! Your in desperate need of a 2nd videographer/editor! So here you are, up at 1 AM scrolling through resumes because your that boss that hates to overwork her employess so she overworks herself!

Warnings:Daddy kink, Dom Namjoon, switch OC (More of a sassy/bratty sub)Top OC, Oral (F recieving) Light ass play, (Rimming), Dirty talk, Breath play, Spanking(Pain kink),Hair pulling, unprotected sex, light cum play, VERY LIGHT degration (He calls her a “little bitch” once but it’s playful still noting in case it offends ppl)The end hints at a threesum…...with a certain redhead 

Tae is their sassy exec.assistant and makes a cheeky little appearance at the end.

Jonnie baby is tatted...LORDT

There a fun freaky little couple...

WC:6k

NOTE- This is kinda old and  was set to be part 1 of an OT7 AU called “7 DEEP” 

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

  “Really?” Goddamn, leave it to Namjoon to make one word sound just as sexy as it was intimidating! 

You heard the footsteps fuck you did, you just opted to ignore them and hope maybe he’d just, I don’t know leave? Maybe he was just doing a wellness check? But, if that’s the case, as your tired, unfocused, half-lidded gaze caught the bottom right of your laptop screen, which was glaring back at you something vicious! You realize that you’ve royally fucked up, and its a cute little 2 am right now! So no, he’s not going any damn were, anytime soon….

“Baby” The word left his lips just as much disappointment as it did allure which is a hell of a combination I know, I know, but in all honesty, it fits the mood. You caught his visual briefly through the mirror mounted against the wall and fuck, your man is fine as all hell! Frame resting casually against the entryway, arms folded firm across the smooth chiseled planes of his caramelized tattooed chest. Oversized cat-eye glasses perched on top of that cute little button nose of his, A pair of loosely fitted sweats sitting low against his v-lines, the thin grey fabric left nothing to the imagination as he’d clearly opted against boxers tonight. Shoulders and arms flexing effortlessly due to his current position which screams nothing but “Your ass is in trouble”. Which I mean, your kinda here for...kinda not….

Only offering a low hum in response as you continued scrolling through mounds resumes and video reels that were currently clogging up the admin email that was typically reserved for Taehyung. And that’s when you hear his feet shuffle closer, and closer until there’s a heavy yet comforting weight pressing against your back. The temperature around you shifting, as he leans down, arms braced on the table on either side of your frame. His long, beautiful, veiny fingers pattering idly against the glass, showcasing an array of rings, one of them being his Cartier wedding band as his lips nuzzling into your neck. Nosing up and down your skin slowly, almost teasingly, just breathing you in until your shifting back against him, a strong chill running down your spine. 

“We talked about this…” Voice low, seductive, yet stern and still clearly a little disappointed...nipping at your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make a point. Forcing yourself not to lean back into his touch no matter how bad you wanted to beg for more than just him grazing his teeth along your skin! You needed him to bite, hard, and he already knows it too, how much you get off on being marked..and that’s exactly why he’s not doing it...The little shit! 

“I know but -” Namjoon reaches up to slam your laptop shut, sliding it and the stack of papers to the opposite end of your dining room table, that you’ve managed to convert to a makeshift office. 

“We talked. About this” Simply parroting the words again, just slower this time as if to say you clearly must not have heard him correctly initially.

You sigh. Deep, slow, defeated, a nod rendering, out as a half-arsed response triggering Namjoon to pull back from you only to slide your chair from beneath the table. Shifting it to face him before dropping to a squat between your thighs. Gaze unwavering as he took in your blatantly exhausted appearance, still, he couldn’t help but melt as he reached out to caress your jaw feeling the way you nestled into it instantly. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, as he smoothed his hands down your body, slipping beneath your robe to gently massage your thighs.

“So what the fuck, are you doin?” Brow arched as if he was daring you to actually respond, yet there wasn’t a single sharp edge to his voice, it was suddenly soft, calm. As if he was genuinely asking why you were doing this to yourself because he can’t make a lick of sense of it! You’re barely able to hold your eyes ajar right now yet you were out here working....

You couldn’t really handle the intensity of his gaze right now, more so because you knew he was right, you were so fuckin exhausted right now it’s unreal! Let’s also mention that the two of you have to catch a flight to Vegas for a business meeting in a good oh I don’t know 7 hours! So, instead of acknowledging that this was really stupid, you opted to reach for the one resume he didn’t manage to move out of reach. Eyes nervously scanning the paper as a distraction while you tried to think of a rational that even you’d believe at this point! 

'Fuck, we just- I don’t know Joon, we just have so much going on right now! And you know I’ll never complain about us having too much work I mean, I'm grateful every damn day that we’re not where we were!”

You intentionally paused, letting “that” have its own moment because it's something to always be acknowledged! The two of you went from living in a 900sq ft apartment with 5 other people to effortlessly clearing 8 figures as of this last tax year. Humbled and grateful to be busy isn’t even the beginning of how you feel! 

“But I just look at everybody...Yoongi’s responding to emails at fucking 3 AM! Jimin playing around docusign at the ass crack of dawn every damn day sending out contracts! Taehyung up scouting locations at 6 AM on a Sunday which is supposed to be his only day off I just- Everybodys in over their head so I thought I’d just- “ Namjoon reached up and grabbed your chin, snatching the paper out of your hand and forcing you to look him dead in the eyes. 

“So thought you'd overwork my wife instead?” 

You just shrug and nod again, tossing your hands in the air, it’s clear you have an attitude but it’s also clear it’s with yourself! You keep piling more and more on your plate instead of delegating it out to other people to handle! It’s a trust thing, and Namjoon know’s that,  it started out with just the two of you, then for years it was seven , seven deep. It’s hard for you to let new people into something you and your husband built from nothing! However, Taehyung just got a part-time assistant of his own so he can go back to strictly being your right hand, and realistically, he’s salary! Your little Gucci boy probably doesn’t mind drinking his Starbucks and driving his BMW around LA looking for houses to film in! You could have spread the workload out a little you just fuck, I don’t know, you’re always that person to put people first to a fault I guess! Point being, Tae could easily handle this, tomorrow, during normal business hours, you could have and should have been in bed with your husband! 

Namjoon can sense how uneasy you feel right now, almost like your a child being scolded and that’s not at all what he’s aiming for; he's just genuinely concerned. So he opts to ease the atmosphere just a little to remind you, that the two of you are always on the same playing field, he’s only reacting like this because he cares! Flicking the bottom of your chin before leaning in, pressing a firm, yet passionate kiss to your lips as if he’s trying to drive the point home, slipping his tongue past the seam almost instantly. Not even attempting to keep this somewhat chaste, needing you to feel every inch of infinite love and fire he has burning through his veins when it comes to you! Kissing you with enough force to knock the wind out of your chest, moaning contently as you give your husband free rein to explore your mouth. Turning the kiss slightly more delicate as he lets his hands slide even deeper under the robe to continue roaming your body. The slide of his tongue becoming softer, slower….as the pads of his fingers trickled up your spine.

Sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls back “Were all busy baby, I get it, I hate seeing them like this too, you know I love them just as much as you do! And that’s exactly why we put out those ads, but that does not mean you get to take on everyone else’s shit! Don’t make me put in a complaint to HR about unfair treatment within the workplace!”Murmurs against your lips, as you stare down at his, barely paying attention to a damn thing he said! 

“Joon I am HR…” You mumble low and unamused, eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance and he could give less than a damn. Leaning in with a smirk playing on his lips, leaving another lingering kiss against your own. Kissing you with enough fire to have every hair along your body standing on end! Until your practically chasing after him in a pout the minute he pulls away from you. 

“Mmm, and my point still stands….” Namjoon's hands tighten around your hips, scooting you forward so your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your arms instantly lace around his neck, trailing your fingers upward, so they can get lost in his freshly dyed locks.

“Stop, overworking my baby! You know I don’t like  it…” His delivery was just as much playful, as it was stern! 

“Fuck, whatever okay, sorry!” You really weren’t at least not right now, there wasn’t a lick of conviction in that as you reached up to bring his lips back down to yours. Sliding in tongue first, capturing his lips in another opened mouth kiss, the rhythm quickly starts getting messy more so on your end because you’re getting needy! Namjoon tastes intoxicating and you’re blissed out of your mind, even after all these years, this man can still manage to have your toes curling with just a simple kiss! , Arching forward giving him easier access to grab you ass and he takes the hint, the faint sting of blunt nails digging into the swell of your ass has you whimpering out low and filthy against his tongue.

The kiss breaks much to your dismay but before you can even protest Namjoons tongue is lapping down the side of his neck, mapping out all the places he’s learned over the years. Nipping down on your flushed skin ever so often this time he’s biting with a purpose though, giving it to you just the way you like it. 

“Y/n were done with work now right??” He can hear you panting out low and wanton into his ear once he attaches himself to the crook of your neck, sucking maliciously, an almost animalistic growl leaving his lips in the process. There’s a hint of frustration mixed in with arousal dripping off his tongue right now, your too caught up to notice! 

“Namjoon '' You breathe out his name with nothing but lust pouring off your tongue, not an ounce of shame insight in regards to how needy you sound right now. The sound goes straight to Namjoon’s dick which is beaming at you like a spotlight through the thin fabric of his sweats. Tilting your head back, and anchoring one of your hands into your husband’s hair keeping him in place, overwhelmed with pleasure as you go completely pliant under his menstruations. Regardless, this man's self control was somethin’ serious,and he wasn’t giving in just yet...you still had one more cross to bear baby girl! 

“Fuck. Please” Tugging on his scalp like the brat you tend to be, as if to emphasize your point, making Namjoon pull away licking up your jaw in the process. The drag was slow, messy, waving his tongue against your skin the same way he would your pussy and you felt yourself start to involuntarily clench harder and harder by the second. 

“Hmm? What was that baby?” Tugging the shell of your ear between his teeth hard enough to make you whimper into his hair “Now you wanna come to bed?” You can feel him smirking against your skin and you just really don’t like your husband at all right now just so we’re clear.

All you do is whine in response, yanking his hair even harder until you feel a firm hand land on your ass making you yelp out of your seat. 

Nam-fuck!” Hissed through clenched teeth, thighs tensing around his waist. 

“So again…” Tone as coy and casual as can be as he winds his hand back only to land smack dab on the curve of your ass again, right in the same spot, you wouldn’t be surprised if his palm left an indentation behind! 

Namjoon’s hand was literally pulsing against your skin the impact was so damn strong, all the metal dancing along his fingers didn’t help either! You swear the ripple echoed throughout your entire apartment, and the scream that left your throat was without a doubt noise complaint worthy! Fuck your gonna need to send them an edible arrangement or somehing, they already hate the two of you as it is… 

Your panting and whining opened mouth right into his ear, and it’s getting you nowhere but horny and frustrated! Nails, digging little crescents into his shoulders as you try and almost reroute so of the pain that’s buzzing through your veins. But it’s good, it’s soo good, the slickness coating your inner thighs gave that away! Namjoon can smell how much you’re enjoying this, his little pain slut as he often likes to call you! 

 “You wanna stay out here all damn night. Work yourself into the ground. Leave me in bed alone, and now all of a sudden you think you get to boss daddy around? Hmm? Just because your pussys nice and wet and your feelin needy ...now you want to go to bed?” Namjoons tone is blatantly taunting and a little harsh yet the slight growl laced with it all has your head spinning far too fast to even be mad.

‘Oh my god, Namjoon just fuck me already! Shit!” 

“Why the fuck should I do that? Could’ve had me hours ago baby, all I wanted to do tonight was fuck you, that’s all I wanted all damn day.” Slipping his hand between your thighs pinching your clit between his fingers, slowly rubbing the pads of his together on either side, stimulating your clit head-on until your groaning into the side of his neck.”Do you even, know, how hard it was for me not to just bend you over the conference room table today!?” 

“Joon” You try again and he doesn’t budge, he actually let’s go of your clit all together and just teasingly trailing his fingers along your entrance never entering just driving you fucking insane! Looking as fine and unbothered as ever, as his lips ghost up the curve of your jaw. 

“Hmm, let’s try this shit again.Why-” Bringing that same hand up to grip your jaw with enough pressure to indicate he wasn’t fucking around anymore. “Should I give you what you want when you continuously keep disobeying my only request? Hmm???” You can feel your own slickness against your skin, yet all you can focus on is the blatant aganer, and hurt running through your husbands veins. Even beneath all this bravado..he’s clearly really hurt about this, so play times over!

“Fuck, okay!” There was slight elevation to your voice, tetoring on yelling actually. The arch in Namjoons brow said you had about two seconds to fix that , but you already planned on it! Taking a deep slow breath, letting your eyes flutter shut to just...recenter yourself for a moment! 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m. Sorry. ” There it was, not that bratty whiney shit you did earlier to get what you wanted, a genuine “I’m sorry” . Soothing your nails through his scalp, it’s almost instantaneous the way his demeanor shifts once those words fall off your tongue in a more..sincere fashion.  

A low hum rang in the back of his throat at the admission, nosing at your cheek “Sorry for what exactly? Because I don’t want it if you doing this just to appease me baby. That won’t do shit for me. ”  Namjoon’s tone is a lot softer now, all of the prior theatrics and pettiness is gone as he awaits your response.

“No, Joonie baby, no!” Pressing a soft but firm kiss to those sinfully plump lips of his that you still can’t get enough of no matter how many years go by…”No”

“ As your partner, I gotta look out for me just as much as I look out for you and I clearly haven’t been! I know better! And I should be taking advantage of the fact that we’re lucky enough to now be in a position where I can hire an array of people if need be. It’s just- you know I’m a control freak, this business isn’t just a business it’s our baby!”

You watch his mouth open in protest and you just simply continue speaking “But regardless, I know it’s not more important than me, or my health I know…” You instantly feel the tension within his body dissipate at that, thumbs kneading at your hips.

“ I’m sorry, I love you and I’m sorry I’m not trying to stress daddy out!'' There's a slight playfulness to your delivery trying to lighten the mood a little though you know how serious this topic is for him! You find yourself wiggling in his hold trying to somehow get even closer than you already were. 

So here’s the thing, back when you were in college just starting out, the two of you had a lot on your plate! Between school juggling multiple jobs, internships, and just trying to figure out how to even start a company of this caliber….The level of exhaustion he often saw you at was utterly heartbreaking. The number of times you passed out due to lack of sleep is unmentionable… so seeing you like this...was fucking unacceptable in Namjoon’s eyes! 

You notice those big brown orbs of his get a little glassy so you grip the back of his neck even tighter dropping your forehead to his. Feeling like complete and utter trash right now! 

 “This business is not more important than my wife, my partner, my best friend...it’s not! However, you are more important than, all of it, this fuckin overpriced apartment, all the shiny little toys we’ve been able to buy, and this entire company in general! I love you, but I need you to look me in the eyes and fucking promise me that you’ll stop this! Please…” 

You can hear a slight trimmer laced within that deep honey-coated tenor of his and the sudden vibrato’s foreign, and you’re not a fan! It took everything in you not to cry at the blatant plea rolling off his tongue, well aware this man does not beg! So instead you just leaned in and kissed him, hard, slow, just letting everything you couldn’t really articulate pour from your lips to his and hope he got the message. 

“I promise, I love you…I promise!”

“And you know I fuckin love you…”  You do, fuck you do, even if this marriege was high key an accidnet..it’s without a doubt one of the best things that’s ever happened to you!

“I know”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah”

Ducking down, kissing you reckless and with fevour, messy, wet, teeth clacking together. Slowly transitioning the mood from deep and touching to just...raw and nasty which is kinda what you’d prefer at the moment!

 “I wasn’t lyin when I said I’ve wanted to fuck you all damn day though…”

“Please” you whisper out as he pulls back to lick down your neck, pressing your chest together to give him better access. Sucking his mark in a spot right beneath your jaw, well aware you’ll need an ass-ton of conclear within the next couple of hours, but right now you could care less!  

“Please what baby? Tell daddy, what you want?” Namjoon presses, biting his lip and sliding his hand back between your legs groaning out at how completely drenched you are right now. 

“Fuck me!” You pant out low and whiney

“You want it here baby? You want daddy to bend you over the table?” The familiar hunger that was back in his eyes was so fucking sexy and  it had you rutting against him for any ounce of stimulation! 

“No.Bedroom” Namjoon moans in agreement, securing your thighs around his waist and scoping you out of the chair, heading towards the opulent master suite the two of you shared.

Once inside he throws you down on the bed, hard and almost animalistic, making you bounce a little against the firm California king. Namjoon follows immediately, crawling over to cover your body with his own, his broad form completely engulfing your frame. Ripping your robe apart, and letting your tongues meet once more. Hot slick, and eager as you pant out hot and heavy against one another. Soothing is palm down your stomach, cupping your entire heat in his palm. Moaning out that it feels just fuckin like that. Wet and warm, so damn warm...ducking his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth, sucking slow but hard at the same time, nipping and grazing the bud between his teeth.

“Fuck” You moan back arching off the bed and into your husband’s mouth, as he licks trails across your sternum and over to your other nipple. While also stroking his entire palm against your pussy, Namjoon’s always loved how responsive you are to him even after all these years. Just letting his tongue lave over the buds over and over, alternating between, licking, sucking, and biting so your body never gets used to the stimulation. 

“You fuckin, love this shit don’t, you? Bet I could get you to come just like this...wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk around your nipples the harder he sucks, bringing his other hand into the mix, the one that’s nice and slick with your arousal. Using it to twist and turn your nipple between his nimble fingers until he can’t tell if your arching into the pain or away from it. He can feel you grinding against his thigh, more importantly, he can feel your clit sticking to his thigh your so damn wet, soaking straight through his sweatpants. Moaning out loud and unfiltered, eyes shut as you rock your hips against him, your hands getting lost in your hair the harder you rock against the bed.

“Fuck, look at you baby, rubbing your sweet little cunt against my thigh..” A low almost arrogant chuckle rumbling in his throat, vibrating against your skin making you moan even louder. “Fuck, here I was thinking you wanted to come on my dick...” 

“Fuck- I do, I wanna come all over you, want your mouth too though…” Reaching out to play in his hair, almost pushing his face down even harder, though you swear you can feel his lips curl into a wicked little smile at that moment. 

“Yeah? You want daddy's tongue all over your pussy…” He didn’t even bother phrasing it as a question, especially once he meticulously started rolling his tongue along your nipples, in a oh too familiar motion that had you turning into a whiny brat within seconds! 

“Namjoon!” He doesn’t even respond, just pulling off and flipping you right on to your stomach, hard and fast, making you damn near choke on your own spit. Face pressed into your fresh linen sheets.. You start to slightly arch your back on insctint. You feel him shift off the bed, peeping over your shoulder to see his sliding off his sweats, stashing his glasses in his side pocket. Namjoons length is just standing straight up, damn near laying flat against his stomach and you straight up moan, mouth-watering at the sight alone. A pleased hum leaves those plump lips of his as he shuffles back onto the bed. Kissing and licking his way up the back of your thighs until he reaches your ass, straddling your hips. 

Palm rubbing at the swell of your ass before smacking it, lightly at first, and your hip twitches you actually have the nerve to giggle. “That all daddy’s go-fuck” Another. Scream. Literally. Scream as he reels back even harder than he did earlier, just keeping his hand intact too, wanting you to feel the trob, the ache, radiating off his palm to your ass. 

“Hmm what was that baby?” Leaning down to spread your cheeks apart, just blowing a trail, against your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches from that alone. “Always so fuckin wet and ready for me…” 

He groans and you, arch your back, even more, moaning out slightly at the contrast hitting your skin. Bracing both hands on your ass and he can hear your breathing shutter in your chest, already anticipating the first drag of his tongue. Dipping one thumb over you rim, just circling it gently, feeling you jerk at the sensation, no matter how light, fuck your still so damn sensitive. That will never stop amazing him, it’s been almost 8 years. Yet you still react like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you like he’s still helping you explore new places along your own body! Namjoon leans forward, nipping, licking, and sucking, open mouth kisses, against the backs of your thighs, before leaning down to kiss your clit. Tongue and all, sucking it straight into his mouth, moaning out deep and strong around the bud. Inhaling slowly as if he's breathing you in and your knees already start to buckle,  nails clenching around the sheets. 

A broken moan of his name being muffled into the fabric, as he rolls his tongue in deep, languid strokes up and down your folds, licking from front to back. Your wetness is already painted all over his face and he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he continuously, maliciously sucks down on your clit, gently grazing the skin between his teeth just enough to make you squirm. Bringing his tongue to lather over your rim and he feels how hard you start shaking, sliding in two fingers into your heat, knuckles deep at the exact moment he slips his tongue past your rim. The vision that is you, open, needy, and whiney, on all fours...is driving your husband absolutely insane! How quickly you’re falling apart, knees spreading even wider to give him all the access he needs to do with you as he pleases. 

“Yeah..” You sign, blissed out of you goddamn mind ‘Fuck”

Your voice drips in the whiniest tinge of need imaginable like you’ve been aching for this, and the sounds richotect straight off your tongue and into Namjon’s lap! Your chest drops forward, letting Namjoon essentially all support your weight, as his tongue dives in even deeper, while continuously fucking you open with his fingers, he’s already added a third one. Mind completely spinning at how hard your clenching around all three of his fingers, cock throbbing at how good you’ll feel around him soon enough. You feel him pull back to spit right along your rim, watching it drizzle down toward your clit, he picks the trail up with his tongue and leads it where he wants it to go. Namjoon moans out, low, and content as he really starts to eat you out your tongue and fingers working your pussy open until your voice hitches in your throat and shatters. Ripping, a long drawn out whimper to leave your throat.

“That feel good?” He murmurs low and taunting, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, as if he can’t physically tell he feels good.

“I’ve had better”

He bites your cheek playful, a snort leaving his lips “Fuckin same..” slurs out against the swell of your ass and you can’t help but cackle.

“Fuck, I bet you have now, stop talking and get your fucking tongue back in ME!!” Bossy as ever, damn near pushing his head down and he reaches up, biting the side of your hand forcing you to stop. 

“How about my cock instead?” Leaning back to smack his length aginst your ass a couple times, letting you feel how hard and ready he is. 

“Yeah! God yeah, fuck yeah! Gimme! In me now! Fuck me!!” All your prior teasing is gone, just the mention of his cock has you needy and clenching painfully hard around his fingers, while also simultaneously rutting back against them as if you don’t want him to pull out. Pulling his fingers out slowly. Curling them upwards, purposely coating his fingers in your arousal to use to lather his cock which is so hard right now it’s almost painful. 

“Daddy” Wiggling your offensively empty ass in his face, making him chuckle, and smack it lightly. before gripping your thigh and flipping you onto your back with such ease it was almost offensive. 

“Nam-”

“Fuck off” Leaning down and stealing your breath and sarcasm away with a deep kiss “I wanna see my baby..” Lining himself up to your entrance, you exhale softly against his mouth as the blunt head of his cock breaches your entrance. Hiking your leg around Namjoon’s waist to make him slide in even deeper.

“Yeah, fuck” 

“I hope you don’t think…” Shifting forward wiggly his hips a little, giving you half a second to adjust to how fucking big this man is! “We’re about to make love or some shit, because I’m about to break your ass..” There’s just as much of a smile as there is a dangerous edge to your husband’s voice, that has you beaming up at him. Before you even had time to think of a response he was snapping his hips forward hard enough to have the two of you scooting up the bed a little.

Namjoon, propped your leg even higher over his shoulder, as he snapped his hips forward again, even harder this time. You moaned out, and scurried to grab onto your husband’s neck to anchor yourself as he fucked into you hard and fast, you tried to arch and fuck him back but it was hard with how intense he was pounding into you! 

“Oh my godddd” You drawled out, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yup, Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that, in this position.....” You could hear the smile in his voice as he continued fucking you like he was trying to split you open with his cock. Nails clawing into his back hard enough to break skin! 

You could’ve just laid there and took, it because fuck if it wasn’t good, but that’s not the mood you were in at the moment. So you dropped your leg from his shoulder and wrapped them both around his waist. Tipping your hips forward, clenching down hard around his cock as you started grinding your hips against him. Fucking him back the same way he was giving it to you. Hard and smooth.. 

“Y/n” He half growled half whined as you smiled up at him, something wicked, releasing your hold around his cock only to clench down even harder. He groans in what seemed like frustration reached down to smack pinch your clit between his fingers hard enough to make you cry out his name. Arching forward even harder. 

“Yeah, daddy like that, fuck.Me.just like that” you were breathless but the sass was clear as day, a slight chuckle leaving your throat. 

“Fuckin brat!” Reaching down with the same hand that was on your clit, wrapping it around your windpipe, adding just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back off your head. The added stimulation throwing off your rhythm a little but you didn’t care, he had you…

“Yesss,yes, fuck!” His tattooed chest was flushed and covered in sweat as you continued fucking back against his cock, which was warm and continuously pulsing side of you. Filling you up and sliding completely out every single time. Your hole twitched painfully hard as the two of you worked in sync thrusting against each other in a smooth yet malicious rhythm, the sound of skin slapping you moaning, Namjoon grunting... 

Fuck an edible arrangement maybe the two of you should treat your neighbors to a spa weekend or something because they damn sure aren’t sleeping right now! 

“Ya know, if you would’ve came to bed earlier” He panted right into the side of your ear, still rolling his hips into you “I could’ve fucked you, came inside you” Leaning down to lick up the side of your jaw  “Licked all, of my come out of you, and then” Pulling back and snapping his hips up even sharper, as if to accentuate every word “Fucked.You.All.Over.-Fuck-Again” Every thrust had the wind being knocked out of your chest  “ But now..we don’t have tim-” 

Reaching up to twist his nipple between the tip of your nail, kneeing him in the stomach just enough to make his hips stutter and have him shuffling back so you can push him onto his back which he falls to willingly. That is, until you literally bounced down onto his dick, damn near gagging in the process he feels so deep in this angle. Almost tempted to feel up your sternum and see if he’s poking through. 

“You little bitch” Chokes from his throat with a stated smile the tones playful and airy, digging his nails into your ass, letting out an involuntary gasp as he rolls his hips up. Only for you to start rolling your hips back, again, and again, and again, in deep, slow, circles, switching up the pace a little from what it was before. Making sure your clit grazes against his pelvic bone every time.

“Yeah, fuck you” Your breathless, and tired, but you can’t help but smile at how completly fucked out he looks right now, eyes barley ajar, jaw tight, he looks so damn good! 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck daddy baby..fuck me..” It’s clear he’s only egging you on but fuck if it’s not working,he sounds down right sinful as you ride him. His moans are deep, loud, almost needy, at every roll your hips make, and it’s intoxicating! Reaching up and grabbing you down by your neck , licking his way back into our mouth, his grip is strong enough to without a doubt leave a bruise. Both of you moaning out pleased and needy as you start slamming your hips down meeting his upwards thrust. Instantly matching the pace he’d set. Namjoon pulls back, and slips three fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat to make you gag a little. Exchanging the grip he held on your neck for the back of your hair, as he brings his other hand down between your bodies to play with your clit, before licking his way back into your mouth.Feeling the way your thighs start to shake as you cry out against his tongue barely able to kiss him back at this point . 

“Your fuckin close baby, your pussy’s just screamig around me..” He’s breathless, not even trying to hide it anymore, voice horse and dripping with arousal. “Goddamnn I love you…” You clench so damn hard around him at that..I actually don't think anything turns you on more than hearing your husband say that. Especially sounding all fucked out and needy.

“Love you too baby..so fuckin much… “

“Good”  He chuckled low and dark agaisnt your lips “Now come, all over my cock like a good girl”  Fucking into you faster and harder, hand still rubbing blunt circles around your clit, tightening the grip he holds on your hair until your roots burn  “Y/n , baby, my baby, come for me, come for daddy...” 

It only took a few more thrusts before your orgasm ripped through you and you were crying out your husband's name, body spasming on top of him. Yet you still didn't stop rutting against him until he came in. You couldn't, you needed to feel it, body running away from him just as much as it was running towards him! You can feel how hard your clenching and its involnaty this time,so he reaches up with both hands rolling your hips against him one more time before slamming you down onto his cock. Just holding you in place while you continue to pulse around him, body shattering to pieces.

“Namjoonnnn fuck-fuck-fuck-” He grounds you agaisnt his cock as he jerks his hips up hard and fast, eyes squezzing shut, neck arching off the pillow, as his relase washed over him. A long drawn out moan of your name slipped off his tongue as he came, hard, hips stilling making sure to fill you to the brim, until he's sure he released every last drop he had to give..His own body shuttering in ovesentivty at this point. Namjoons fingers slowly soothed up your thighs, both of you panting painfully hard, wincing at the contact as you continue pulsing around him. Eyes locked in a half lidded gaze, a smile that started on your lips and ended on his as the two of you racked over each other's forms, hot sweaty, marked up, and fucked out. 

“Namjoon” You finally say, breaking the silence, a slight moan hanging off your tongue and he smiled back at you, reaching up to grip the back of your neck.

“Y/n” Parroting your name with the same lust filled drawl that you had, making you moan…

Nam-fucking-Joon” Leaning down to place a firm kiss to his lips, humming out instanly at the contact.

“Y/n Kim….” 

“Yup, that’s me!” Smiling out tired and dazed against his lips, while you felt his hand soothe up and down the curve of your back. 

“I love you”

“And, I love you” 

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, until his cock was completely soft and he gently slid out, still keeping you flush against his chest….just sitting in comfortable silence, breathing together..until..

“ Oww!! What the fuck was that for ?!” Your poor ass...at least it’s a pinch and not a smack this time...

“I mean it. I love what we do and I know sometimes realistically it happens there are only so many hours in a day I understand that. We wouldn’t be where we are if we didin’t work our asses off! But you’ve been doing this and running on fumes all damn week! I’ve just been watching from afar and keeping my mouth shut, hoping that you would sort it out yourself but I couldn’t watch you burn yourself into the ground anymore. Y/n. I’m serious! “

You can feel the weight behind his words, the way his heart seems to be beating harder now than it was when the two of you were having sex. 

So you lean down to press a kiss on his lips that almost seems far too delicate and out of place for what just happened only moments prior.

“I know.” 

Namjoon holds your gaze for a second longer before cupping the side of your face and kissing you firm and sweet, smiling against your lips once he feels you sigh into it. Hesitantly he pulls away and heads towards the bathroom and he already hears you whine in protest. Just flagging his hand in your direction, not even bothering to turn around.

 “We literally have a 9 AM flight and an 11:30 business meeting at the Plaza! Meaning, you have to be dressed and fully ready when we hop on the plane. Your fuckin showering..now. I don’t wanna hear it. ” 

Honestly, you were far too tired to protest and the tone of his voice let you know you wouldn’t win anyway!  So I mean, fuck, at least there’s a bench in the shower! 

“Ugh, fuck, fine! Come carry me! I have to preserve my energy to walk in my Louboutins tomorrow!!!” Making grabby hands in his direction knowing damn well he can’t deny you anything. 

“You mean today!” You heard his voice echo off the tiles and hoenstly he seems far to chipper to remind you have of, which only makes you whine even louder! 

Heading back out the bathroom with a smirk on his face, shaking his head in dismay as he scoops you effortlessly into his arms. “Come here you little brat!” 

“Your brat!” You fire back, with nothing but smugness rolling off your tongue as you loop your arms around his neck, kissing his dimple.

“Fuck yeah you are, my brat, my wife, my fuckin baby” Inviting his tongue back into your mouth as he leads the two of you back into the bathroom! 

The two of you moved together lazily whilst in the shower, taking turns washing each other, slow touches and kisses. Murmuring sweet nothings mixed in with business because though you tried to leave work at work...sometimes it’s impossible! 

Not even bothering to look at the clock once you finally melted into your bed, honestly, you didn’t even wanna know. 

~~~

 Far too soon the sound of all 6 of your alarms went off, ya know, the “Okay I should get up but I don’t have to get up” All the way to the “Fuck, I’m late!” Alarm! They all went off until you found yourself practically being scraped off the floor and led into the guest room that the two of you converted into an additional closet and a place for you to get ready in peace! 

Sitting down, Starbucks in hand as you set out to beat your face, do your hair and try not to look like you stayed up until 1 am then got fucked into the mattress until you damn near cried! 

The Starbucks was curiosity of Taehyung who had keys and free reign to your apartment whenever we felt so inclined. The redhead welcomed himself into your space, waltzing over in your direction with an all-knowing smile on his face. Ducking down to leave a slow lingering, open mouthed kiss along the one mark on your shoulder you apparently forgot to cover this morning. You can feel him smirking against your skin,as he pulls back to flop down on the pink furry chair currently covered in rejected outfit choices. Trying to force yourself to ignore the sudden chill that rang through your body because you didin’t have the time or the engery for anything else. 

‘Why aren’t you wearing this? Your ass looks fuckin great in this!” Holding up a black halterneck Jumpsuit, brows furrowed in the center of his face.

“I know, but, it needs to be steamed and I don’t have the time..” A feigned pout playing on your lips as you batted your lashes at him through the mirror. Watching as he slid off the chair, with an exasperated huff, eyes rolling to the back of his head more times than you can count. Heading towards the steamer you had hanging along one of your many clothes racks.  

“Thank you, baby!!” Blowing him a kiss that he swatted away in the process! 

“Yeah, yeah! Soo I see someone was impatient and went through the resumes last night…At fuckin midnight!” Eyes glaring in your direction, you could hear the frown in his voice. “Y/n-“

“Don’t!” Eyes narrowing in his direction through the mirror “Daddy Joon already got in my ass enough about last night for all of you!” 

 “As he fuckin should! That’s what you have me for baby, so you aren’t doing that shit to yourself anymore!” You can tell he’s trying to sound authoritative but instead, he just sounds sad and equally disappointed!”

“I know, Tae, I know, I’m fuckin workin’ on it!.” Your delivery comes out a little sharper than you intended but he’s known you far too long to take it personally or even fully acknowledge it honestly! 

“Speaking of, I actually met this kid, not fully a kid he’s like 21, but anyway he just graduated from USC, for some sort of Film. I actually ran into him at Starbucks today and he’s supposed to be sending me his resume and some video reels in a little while.” 

A low hum ringing in the back of your throat, far too focused on carving out your brows to talk...but he took that as a hint to continue. 

“His name is Jungkook, he seems somewhat promising just from talking to him, so, I’ll feel it out and if it seems worth your time I’ll forward over his information! I’m also going to try and set up a couple of interviews for you and Joonie next week!” 

Offering a faint nod in response, still far too focused on your makeup to give much else, or realize the sudden fire burning in Taehyung's eyes as he watches you get ready. Silk robe hanging loosely off your frame, a pair of white lace panties peeking out...

“What time were the two of you trying to get dropped off at the airport?” The sudden shift in conversation, and the blatant octave change had your eyes meeting him through the mirror. Trying to feel out his mood…

“In the next hour or so…” Then there’s Namjoon, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but his dress pants, an unbuttoned silk shirt, and a smirk that screams nothing but trouble. 

“Come’re” The bass in Namjoon’s voice alone has chills running down your spine, a second away from shifting out of your seat until you realize he’s not talking to you. Flicking his finger in the redhead’s direction, edging him off the wall slowly. Biting his lip as he sways coyly in your husband’s direction. 

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

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE! FOR NOW, IF YOU LIKED IT.. ,SHOW THIS SOME LOVE AND I’LL CONSIDER ADDING TO IT!  I DID MAP OUT THE FIRST 3 CHAPTERS LAST YEAR WHEN I STARTED THIS BUT I DIDN’T PHYSICALLY WRITE THEM! BTW I KNOW I DIDIN’T MENTIONED ALL OF THEM, BUT ALL O BTS MINUS KOOK WORK FOR THE OC AND NAMJOON!

MASTER LIST 

#namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon au #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts poly #taehyung #taehyung au #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

[backtobackbakubabe]

Stuck in the Middle with You

Bakugo X Reader

Reader is a closet couponer and when word started spreading that there was going to be a mandatory quarantine to fend off a virus you weren't worried. You had enough supplies to last for months. However it wasn't until now that you realized you had no idea how to cook and you relied on take out and fast food for most of your meals. The only person who knew about your crazy couponing habit was Bakugo, so when he called and asked if he could raid your stash you got an idea.

Words: 2405

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You scrolled through your phone on your way home. Every headline was about the rising death toll of some crazy new virus making its way across the world. Work had sent everyone home until further notice and you couldn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your stomach. Logically you knew you were fine. You were a very clean and healthy person not to mention the fact that you had a secret stash of goods in your basement that you had from couponing.

You didn't tell people about you little hobby because you knew how it looked. Most people think couponers are cheap crazy people who just enjoy hoarding random stuff. Well jokes on them, because now you can go home and not have to risk your life over a roll of toilet paper at the store.

The only person who knew about your hoard was Bakugo. He had stumbled upon it one night when you had hosted movie night for you and all of your friends. You had sworn him to secrecy but naturally he made sure to make fun of you before returning to your friends upstairs. Shortly after that anytime Bakugo would find himself near your office he’d make a point to drop off any coupons he had collected since seeing you last. He always had something mean to say when he dropped them off. But you knew it was just his way to show he cared.

You weren't a hero like the rest of them but you had all gone to UA. You had just taken a different path after graduation. You decided hero work just wasnt for you and went back to school. You had decided to go into forensic psychology instead. Your quirk allowed you to read peoples minds, but only in fragments. Sometimes it was hard to piece together what it all meant, especially if you didn’t know them personally. So you gave up the flashy cape and now work behind a desk.

You went down to the basement to take inventory of your stash of goods and tried to estimate how long it would last. If you were smart about it you could definitely spread it out over a few months. No that you anticipated it would take that long. You were halfway up the steps back to the main level of the house when you stopped short... You had no idea how to cook.... Sure a lot of it was no brainer stuff. Dump it from the can into a bowl, pop it on the stove or microwave and done. But that was only going to get you so far. You had relied way too heavily on fast food the past few years. You had never felt the need to learn how to cook. You guess you could always look up Youtube tutor-

“Burn baby burn! Disco inferno! Burb baby burn!” You phone began to ring a very specific ringtone that was assigned to one very specific person. Disco inferno continued to blare as you got an excellent idea.

“Bakugo! What do I have the pleasure of this phone call?”

You could practically hear him role his eyes at you, “Save it shrink, I need some stuff for this dumbass quarantine but there's no fucking way I’m going to the grocery store. We both know I’d end up blowing something up.”

You tried to hide your giggles at the mental image of Bakugo fighting a middle aged women over bottled water. “So you called me? Why?”

You knew exactly why he was calling. And he knew, that you knew why he was calling. You just wanted to hear him ask nicely for once. He groaned and took a deep breath, “Listen here idiot. I know you have tons of shit in that basement of yours. I also know I personally provided several coupons that contributed to that hoard of yours.”

“So? You think that means you are entitled to some of it then?”

“WHAT?! NO! I’m just... shit y/n I’m just asking if I can come pick up some essentials. I’ll even pay you for it.... please?”

You giggled, “I’m just messing with you Bakugo. Of course you can come get some stuff... but on one condition.”

You heard him sigh and mutter something under his breath, “What do you need?”

Your grin grew from ear to ear, “Oh nothing big... I just need you to teach me how to cook...”

The phone was silent for a few moments, “You don't know how to cook? THEN WHY THE HELL DO YOU STASH ALL OF THOSE GROCERIES?!”

You rolled your eyes, “Can you help me or not?”

He scoffed, “Y/n were supposed to be quarantined... I can’t exactly hang out at your house and teach you how to cook. That is something that takes time.”

“Okay so come get your stuff and in exchange when ever you make something FaceTime me and walk me through it...”

“Are you really that bad of a cook?”

You chewed on your lip, a nasty habit you did when you were stressed out, “YES! okay.. I mean I actually dont know. I’ve never actually tried. I practically live off starbucks, take out, and the cafeteria at my office building...”

“....Fine. I’ll be there in 10 minuets.”

He hung up before you could thank him.

You went ahead and went up to your room to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. You hated the formal attire you were forced to wear and usually stripped down the second the front door was closed behind you. Down to a tank top and leggings you strolled back downstairs just in time to hear a knock at the door.

You pulled the door open to a grumpy looking Bakugo who came prepared with a box to put his supplies in. “Alright let’s get this over with. follow me downstairs.”

He pushed past you, “I don’t need your help thanks. I have enough cash to cover for anything I’ll take. I need go get back home soon before they decide to lock us down.”

You rolled your eyes as you followed him down to the basement, “I already told you, you dont have to pay me. Just make sure I dont starve. And what do you mean lockdown?”

Bakugo placed his box on a table and started loading it up with canned goods, toilet paper, water, and whatever else he needed. “Yeah dumbass lockdown. Have you not been watching the news? They’re considering making it mandatory that everyone stay inside until further notice. No exceptions.”

You bit your lip, “Well surely that doesn’t apply to you right? You’re a hero. You have hero shit to do. There’s no way they’d force you to stay locked up.”

He growled, “Yeah you’d think. But with mandatory lockdown crime will go down. They may need some people to help enforce it but that's more like police work. I think their exact words were, ‘a sick hero isn't good for anything’ or something like that. So unless they really need us they’d prefer us to sit out asses at home and stay healthy.”

You bit your lip even harder. You hadn't known is was that serious. You thought everyone was just trying to be cautious but now it felt... kind of scary. You would be stuck here, all alone, by yourself. No one here but you. No where to go. No one to listen, no one to help. Sure you had practically raised yourself. You had lived off of whatever you could microwave since you were a child. Oh shit you didnt want to think about that. Not now. You had a tendency to spiral when you thought about your childhood. You couldnt do that now, not with Bakugo standing in the same room. Your mind was spinning you didnt even notice Bakugo talking to you.

He would have been irritated but you honestly looked upset, even a little pale if he was being honest. He gently took your elbow in his hand and gave it a good squeeze, “Earth to Y/n. Hello anyone home.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a brief moment before returning to reality, “I dont even know how to make coffee.”

Bakugo gave you a weird look. He knew you tended to be a worrier by nature but you seemed like you were about to crack. “Well if you hurry up maybe I can show you before I leave. But I’m serious when I say I’m leaving in 10 minutes regardless.”

You followed him back upstairs and into the kitchen in a daze. You could feel the spiral forming. You could feel your head growing fuzzy as your heart thumped in your chest. You made it to the top of the steps when Bakugo’s phone buzzed. He answered it all the while staring at you. He could see something was wrong. You looked like you were about to faint. You knew he was talking to someone but you couldn’t hear what he was saying over the loud thoughts in your head.

You started to slump to the floor and leaned back against the refrigerator. This was it. You were officially having a panic attack. In front of Bakugo of all people. Before you knew it Bakugo was on his knees in front of you. He took your face in his hands. His tone was very soft and comforting, but his words couldn't reach your ears.

His thumb softly wiped the silent tears that were now flowing down your cheeks. You hadn't even known you were crying. Your heart continued to race as your brain did it's best to convince you that you were dying. Finally he leaned in and kissed you. It wasnt passionate or sloppy. Just a hard, firm press of his lips against yours.

Then the clouds started to fade away. You usually never used your quirk on your friends but you couldn’t help it. You were hit with a fragment of his consciousness and all you saw was an article on panic attacks. He had googled this at some point. He had read an article on what to do if someone had a panic attack. Your heart rate slowed and your breathing slowly evened out.

His hands remained cupped around your cheeks as his red eyes bore into your and watched as you came back to yourself. “Y/n nod your head if you can hear me.” You nodded your head and he eyes melted with relief. “Are you okay? I mean duh your not okay but you know what I mean...” You nodded again. He took a huge breath and pulled you to him in a comforting embrace. “Alright dumbass just try to match your breathing to mine... let me know when you're good or whatever.”

He was trying to sound irritated but you knew he was just trying to protect his tough guy reputation. After a few minutes of you leaning into him you started to blush. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’m mortified.” You pushed him away slightly and leaned back against the wall. “You shouldn’t have had to see me like that. I’m usually better at... you know...” You rubbed your arm nervously and bit into your already sore lip.

He continued to observe you like you were about to shatter, “Well I wasnt going to leave you hyperventilating on the floor. I’m a hero. I’m pretty sure I could lose my license for that.”

You smirked and stood up on wobbly legs. “Well thanks... that was actually the quickest I’ve come out of one of those. Whatever you looked up worked.”

It was now his turn to blush. “How did you know I looked it up?”

You shrugged, “I saw it. Well a piece of it. You know how it is. Bits and pieces... so is that why you uh.... you know?”

Bakugo stood up and collected his phone from where he had dropped it, “Uh yeah... I remembered seeing it on some dumb tv show but I wasnt sure if it was true or not....” He looked with a weird look of concern but also annoyance, “Look you dont have to talk about it... but if you want to.... I'm here for you.”

You stepped closer and gave him a hug, “Thanks. You’re too sweet. But it’s a long story and you should probably head home before you end up stuck here.”

He put his hand on your forehead and pushed you away. “Oi I meant it when I said I was here for you damnit!” He turned around and continued on his quest to make coffee. “Besides I can’t really leave anyways...”

Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “What do you mean you cant leave?”

He kept his back to you as he looked through the cabinets for a coffee maker. “Well you know that phone call I got right before you freaked out. It was my boss letting me know that mandatory lockdown is in place as of now.” When you didn’t answer he turned to look at you, “He also informed me that someone from my apartment building tested positive, so I really cant go home.” 

You nodded at him before going to the cabinet that held your coffee maker that had never even been out of the box. “Okay.”

Bakugo took the box from your hands with a cautious look, “Okay? OKAY! You literally just had a fucking melt down over the fact that we were going into lockdown and now your just..... OKAY!” 

You shrugged as you went to the refrigerator to pull our a bottle of water. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You took a few  gulps of water before returning your attention to his confused face, “Not that yelling at me is helping by the way...”

His cheeks reddened just slightly before he narrowed his eyes, “So we’re stuck together huh?” 

You sighed, “Looks like it....”

He growled, “Fuck my life...”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I’m not exactly thrilled either alright.” 

He shook his head and started pulling out pots and pans, “How do you like your pancakes?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Are you def or just stupid. If we’re going to be stuck here then I want breakfast for dinner. So I will ask one more time... How do you like your fucking pancakes?”

You bit your lip, “With chocolate chips please...” 

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #bhna bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo imagine #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x y/n #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia

[complexgods-backup]

Isn’t It Cliché? Chapter 1

Ship: DaiSuga (Haikyuu!!)

Summary: “Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order.”

Sugawara Koushi moves to Tokyo with a broken heart and a desire to start over and falls for a handsome stranger that frequents the coffee shop he works at. Unfortunately, it’s harder for Suga to get him to open up than he thought. It’s all pretty cliché.

Word Count: 2418 

Beta-read by: @mesreves

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic has become somewhat of a passion project of mine, I hope you enjoy it! I already posted 5 chapters on ao3, so feel free to read the rest (and all the tags) on there! I will try and post the chapters as regularly as uni will let me! The fic is under the cut :) 

“Fuck, I’m already late,” Sugawara groaned as he finally awoke with his third alarm. It was his first day at his new job and he really needed the money, so being late was not an option and it was already 7:32 am. He dressed in a hurry, popping some toast into the toaster as he gathered all his things. He ran outside his apartment with one shoe still untied, his coat barely over his shoulders, and the piece of toast in his mouth. I can’t get any more cliché , Sugawara thought to himself as he ran down the stairs to run to the subway. Thankfully, there was a subway stop right by his apartment building and he lived only a few stops away from the Starbucks he got hired at.

As he stepped outside, the crisp autumn air hit his face and he instantly lifted his head to smell the fresh air. Autumn was his favourite season, mainly because the world turned golden brown for a few weeks and the sunsets were phenomenal. He couldn’t wait to explore the new city he moved to and watch the sunset from all around the city. He pushed the thought aside as he swallowed the last piece of toast and walked into the station, focussed on finding the right platform. He constantly checked his phone to see which stop he needed to get out at, still unsure about his orientation skills in Tokyo. Even though he visited the city multiple times as a kid, he knew that getting lost was inevitable. He watched the sun rise higher over the city as the subway continued on its journey, cramped full of people going to their 9 to 5. When his stop came up, he pushed himself out of the cart, cursing himself that he was so far back. He hated inconveniencing people.

Despite all the hassle, he managed to be in front of the Starbucks ten minutes early, signaling to his coworker already inside that he was there. Once the manager gave him his apron, she left Sugawara’s coworker to show him the ropes. Although he had already been employed at a Starbucks before, it was protocol to explain how everything worked, so he listened diligently to his coworker, who was called Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“It’s the busiest right before 9 am and after 4 pm, so you’ll be with at least two other people then. Our other colleague will be here any minute, but you’ll only take orders and work at the cash register today. That sound good?” Suga nodded, impressed at how the other took charge. When he first met him after his interview, he seemed so shy and insecure, but he was clearly in his element. Despite Sugawara being two years Yamaguchi’s elder, he did not dare speak informally to him yet, quite frankly intimidated by his authority. As soon as Yamaguchi seemed pleased with Sugawara’s work, a gorgeous woman, no older than Sugawara, walked in, and he couldn’t help but blush a little bit as she turned to him and wished him a good morning.

“I’m Kiyoko Shimizu, I’m the shift manager and I’ll be working the orders with Tadashi today, it’s nice to meet you.” She gave a shy smile and he nodded at her.

“Nice to meet you, Kiyoko-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga.” He flashed her a smile to emphasize how happy he was to meet her.

“Oh no need for the honorifics, we’re all the same age group and I’m not a big fan of formalities. Just call me Kiyoko!” Suga smiled and nodded as she walked to the back of the store to put down her things and get her apron.

Yamaguchi didn’t lie when he said that most people come through before 9 am, as the shop got extremely busy within minutes. Most of the time, the orders were pretty simple and Suga’s endless patience seemed to serve him well. He didn’t mind taking up orders, knowing that making all those complicated drinks were oftentimes less fun to make, especially if it was busy. But Yamaguchi and Kiyoko seemed to know each other extremely well, making their work ethic impeccable.

Suga didn’t even notice how fast the time went by, and when he next looked at the clock that adorned the wall opposite the till he saw it was already 10h30am. The shop was quieter now that most people got their morning coffee before work, and the three could have short conversations between customers.

“So what do you study?” Kiyoko asked, biting down on a cinnamon roll a customer decided they didn’t want after Yamaguchi had already warmed it up.

“I’m in my second year of Japanese Studies and Elementary Education. I transferred here this year because my old uni was not a good fit for me. What about you?” He asked his peers, who in turn said what they studied. Yamaguchi was an engineering major and Kiyoko was in her last Bachelor's year of studying History of Art. They were interrupted as a customer opened the door. Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order. He tried his best to hide the blush that slowly crept over his cheeks as he heard how gruff the man’s voice sounded.

“I’ll have a caramel frappuccino with three extra pumps of caramel syrup and an extra shot of espresso.” The man said, which surprised Suga for some reason. He didn’t expect the man to have such a sweet drink but he refused to let the shock show on his face as he asked for the customer’s name to write on the cup.

“Sawamura.” He gruffed, barely looking up at the barista. Suga figured he was too hungover and/or tired so he didn’t think much of it as he wrote his name on the cup with a little smiley face next to it, handing Kiyoko the cup. When his order was done, he sat down where he put his coat and immediately plugged his headphones into his phone, and started typing on his laptop.

“He most definitely forgot an assignment he was supposed to write during break.” Yamaguchi giggled as they all secretly watched the man type furiously.

“Do you know who he is?” Suga asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. The other two just shrugged.

“No. He comes here a few times a month and orders ridiculously sweet drinks. He usually stays a few hours.” Kiyoko answered, seeming uninterested. Suga nodded and decided to drop the matter. Soon there were more people coming in and out of the café and Suga was too busy to pay him any more mind. He met one other of his coworkers as Yamaguchi’s shift ended earlier. He was small and energetic, and Suga found out that he studied sports. Makes sense, Suga thought to himself as he smiled at how much energy Hinata seemed to have.

After his shift finally ended, Suga was glad to get back to his small apartment. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was enough for him. There were some unpacked boxes still in one corner of the apartment that he had neglected the entire week in favour of exploring the city. He wasn’t big on decorating except for a string of fairy lights and a big houseplant his best friend gave him when he moved away.

The one thing he was thankful for in his small apartment was his bathtub. Even though it wasn’t exactly the biggest bathtub he had ever seen, he was very fond of it. It was the perfect size for him, even though he had to bend his knees to comfortably have his shoulders underwater. He loved taking hot baths after a long day, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of the day, getting lost in his thoughts with nothing but two candles illuminating his small bathroom. Today was no different. As he sank into the mixture of bubbles and warm water, he let his mind wander, phone on silent. He mentally planned out the next week because that was when his classes would officially be starting. He made a mental note of all the things he still needed to do before bed as he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the bath engulf him. Subconsciously, his mind wandered back to that man from the Starbucks this morning. What was his name again? Sam… Something. No, Sawamura, that was it. He couldn’t help but remember how handsome he looked, even though he seemed to be having the hangover of his life. Suga wondered what he would look like with a good night’s rest and maybe if he wasn’t that grumpy or stressed out. Sighing, he tried to push the image of the handsome stranger out of his mind. He was done falling for people and getting into relationships for now anyways, especially with what happened with his ex… He left him with a broken heart and trust issues, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go through that kind of pain again anytime soon.

God, you’re so pathetic , Suga thought to himself. Are you really planning your future with some guy? Just because he’s handsome and mysterious and most definitely out of your league? And most probably painfully heterosexual… Get a grip on yourself.

He sighed and opened his eyes, pulling himself out of the bathtub, drying himself off, and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day, mainly because he had no idea what to expect from his new University, especially how the people were going to be.

He fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow, content he could finally fall into a dreamless slumber.

…

Suga woke up with a start, confused as to why his alarm rang even though it was still dark out. When he looked at his phone, he realised that it was not his alarm but, in fact, his best friend trying to FaceTime him. Sighing, he accepted the call.

“Asahi, what do you want? It’s almost one a.m.” Suga groaned, rubbing his face.

“Oh no did I wake you? Sorry! But also I’m not sorry because you promised we’d call today! Didn’t think you’d forget..” Asahi said on the other side of the phone and Suga mentally slapped himself.

“Right, sorry… I forgot… Today was a lot and I just got settled at work and… Ugh… I’m sorry. But I’m here now! How was your day?” Suga asked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“No worries! Just wanted to check in to see if you were still alive. My day was alright, I’m getting ready for tomorrow and I’m kinda nervous.” Suga could tell that Asahi was more than “a bit nervous” so he sat up in bed, facing the camera in earnest.

“You’ll do great! Uni is hard but it’s important to remember that every single first-year goes through the same! I promise it’ll be alright!” Asahi only frowned in response to his encouragement, clearly skeptical.

“But you have it so easy, Suga. It’s so difficult for me to talk to new people.” Asahi all but pouted. Suga sighed.

“Yeah I know, but I promise you a lot of people are the same, and you being like that hasn’t stopped us from being friends, right?” Suga prompted, smiling at the camera.

“Yes, but we were neighbours. Also, we’ve been friends since we were 5. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Asahi smiled and Suga just shook his head.

“You’re so stubborn. You’ll be fine! You can always text me if you get anxious but please try and at least talk to one person. Can you do that for me?” Suga asked and he could see Asahi calm down the more they talked.

“Yes, I’ll try. Alright, tell me about your day!” Asahi said excitedly, leaning his face closer to the camera.

“Oh, it was nice actually! I mean it was exhausting but my colleagues are super nice! One of them would get along really well with Noya actually, he has so much energy and is so positive, they’d be the best of friends in no time.” Asahi’s face smiled sadly at the mention of his boyfriend. They’ve been long-distance for four months and Suga knew how much his best friend missed him.

“But yeah the other people are really kind as well. Remember that shy boy that was working when I had my interview? Turns out he is actually a badass behind the counter and he could shit-talk for days.” Suga laughed at that, knowing that Asahi disapproves of anything that has to do with making fun of others.

“I’m glad that your coworkers are nice!! I miss hanging out with you” Asahi said, his face pulled into a frown yet again.

“I do too. But hey I’ll be coming back for a weekend soon and we’ll be able to hang out together!” Suga prompted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Yes, that’s true. Alright, you look tired, you should sleep” Asahi said, and Suga agreed. His head felt heavy and his eyes were closing despite his will to keep them open.

“We’ll call tomorrow after your first day’s over! I think I’ll be free after 4 pm so just call me when you have time” Suga sleepily smiled at the camera as they said their goodbyes and he immediately fell back asleep.

He awoke the next morning with his first alarm, something that didn’t happen often. He decided to enjoy the morning then, having more than an hour to get to the subway: he had a strong cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone. After sending Asahi a few memes as was his morning ritual, he ran down the stairs to get to his uni. He had visited it a few times before moving, so he was more confident in finding his way from the subway to the doors of the main building.

#daisuga #daisuga fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my fic #reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[angelelliee]

Ultraviolence

That one where.....Michael matches with you on Tinder and you decide you want to see what he’s made of.

A/N: i would like if this turned into a series so, plz let me know if you’re interested! Considering it’s a college based scenario! Also supposed to be Hawthorne Michael! But, comments/ideas/ways I can improve are greatly appreciated. My AO3 is Xavierplymptons! Also accepting requests to be tagged if you would like! Enjoy!!

Warnings: smut, oral (female)

Michael Langdon was notorious with making bad decisions. One after another. But this one was way out of his own league. Signing up for a dating app because he wanted some fun. Someone for a late night call when he was lonely. Someone to string around. Why was it a bad decision? He knew that if he met the right girl. That one where she just had a lot in common with him. Understood his jokes and liked the pain of being dragged along. He would fall.

And fall he did. He didn’t even message you before he fell. Staring at the selfie you had put as your first Tinder photo, his mouth began to water. You were gorgeous. a goddess. Your description was typical. Like the other girls he’s seen and swiped left on. Age. Height. Something about you. Something slightly sexual. A funny quote.

Yet it hit different. He even laughed at the quote. He would usually cringe. And finally, fucking finally, his thumb swiped right. His eyes practically bulging from his head when he saw that you already swiped right on him. Making you two a match. His lips smoothed into a firm smirk as he swiped into his inbox. Ignoring his unread dm’s he received and tapped on your empty chat box.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing on an app like this?” Cliche, of course, that’s how he worked. Pretend to be the sweet guy then fuck them over. But before he could press send, a message from you appeared. “Hey!” Simple. Yet intriguing in a way. Maybe he was thinking to deep into this. So he pressed send on his message and called it a night for the whole “thinking to deep into small things”

You two messaged on and off for a few days. Having each other’s snapchats and numbers. You would send random snaps you’d send to your friends and he would leave you on open. Michael was the most handsome boy you’ve matched with. And it made you sad that he was so uninterested. But you knew you could get someone just like him.

And you made sure he knew exactly how you felt. Sending the occasional snap with a boy at a party. Somehow some of them looking like Michael. And Michael surely began to catch on. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” He texted one night. You had just gotten back from the library. A long study session with your girlfriends ended at 11:30. You pulled your phone from your back pocket. A smirk pulled taut against your chap stick glossed lips.

So he wasn’t as dumb as you began to think. “No...” you sent. “Why?” You added next. Curious as ever. Maybe Michael was interested. Or he was interested in knowing why the hell you would try to make him jealous. Both things made your stomach tingle and a blush spread across your chest. “Because it seems like you send me snaps of you with guys more often. I’m used to seeing your Starbucks cups or your ass in some lemon leggings or some shit”

A practical paragraph. You let out a laugh as you read it. “I don’t own “lemon” leggings firstly and second, I didn’t think you’d notice tbh” you sent back before tossing your phone onto the bed. You wandered off towards your desk with your bag in hand. Before you could even sit down, your phone began to buzz. And not from a text. You glanced over at the bed before walking back over slowly. Oh no.

Why in the hell is he calling. You picked it up and inhaled deeply before answering. “Hello?” You tried to sound like you weren’t nervous. “Hey gorgeous” you felt your stomach do that stupid flip again. It’s been a long damn time since a guy has ever called you. Let alone complimented you. You pushed some hair behind your ear absentmindedly. A nervous trick you did.

“Hi” you say back pathetically. You rolled your eyes at yourself. “What’s- whats up?” You stuttered. Don’t let him get the best of you. He was a fuck-boy. And you didn’t fuck with fuck-boys. “Just wanted to see where my little lady was. Is that a crime?” You heard the mocking tilt to his smooth voice. “No. I suppose it isn’t. Just kinda odd that you’d call, you didn’t seem like the type” you sat down on your desk chair and looked at your homework.

Now, if someone were to say “an hour into the phone call you’d be inviting Michael Langdon over to your dorm to have sex” you’d laugh. Yet, here you were. Pinned against your dorm room door. Hands pinned above your head as your lips intertwined messily with one another. His hands moved away to begin moving around your body, lips pressing against your neck.

You listened to the silent demand of keeping your hands above your head. And you hated that you listened to him. Your eyes slid shut once again when his lips found that spot. His large hands pressed against your waist, squeezing and tugging you closer. “Come on, baby girl. You don’t want to give me a room tour?” Michael teased into your ear and pulled you away from the door.

Finally, your back hit the bed. You bounced slightly but soon stopped when Michaels large frame was hovering above you. Your eyes locked with his. A smirk drew across his perfect lips. Michaels hand came up to press against your cheek. “You want to show me how much of a good little slut you are?” There it was. The dirty talk Michael hyped up so much. You nodded obediently, lips wrapping around his perfectly manicured thumb.

His eyes rolled back a bit when he felt the warmth of your mouth engulf his thumb. He was surprised to say the least. Wasn’t suspecting you to actually do something like that. “Good girl. What do you want? Want me to eat that pretty cunt of yours?” You nodded instantly, eyes wide and pleading as his thumb grew wetter, along with your panties. He pulled his thumb away and sat up on his haunches.

“Lift yourself. Help me out a little” Michael snickered. You felt dumb. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Yet you didn’t try to push him away. Only thing that moved was your hips when you lifted up so he could pull your pants and panties off. Michaels face turned concerned for a second. “You okay?” He whispered and hovered above you once more so his face was closer, nose nudging against yours carefully.

“Mhm. I haven’t been with a guy in a while” You didn’t even want to see his reaction. What had your eyes opening again was a small chuckle. “Well....I’ll have to make it worth your while” Michael winked and pushed your shirt up with tender hands. It was almost like something changed. Like Michael wanted to make the night last longer.

That was stupid. Michael wasn’t like that. You gasped loudly when his plump lips came into contact with your clit. “You don’t waste anytime do you?” You joked breathlessly as your hands curled tightly around the blankets. “Is that a bad thing?” He asked as his thumb rubbed around your clit slowly, chuckling as your hips stuttered and you choked out a whine.

“Ya know, I don’t know how much longer I can wait” Michael teased as he slipped two fingers into your pussy. He laid a hand across your stomach and pushed your body back down. “Behave” he says coldly. You felt that. It hit you right in the core. Your eyes fluttered shut when his fingers started pumping slowly, curling up. You cried out loudly as his fingers started to get a groove. “Have to get you ready for me. Even though it would be pretty hot to split you with my cock”

Your cheeks and chest heated up at the sudden pleasure that coursed through your veins. “Michael” You whined and thrashed your head to the side. You whined louder when his fingers slid out of you slowly. “You’ve got my cock so fucking hard” he growled into your ear and pushed his clothed bulge against your sopping pussy.

“I feel it” you breathed out and reached down helplessly to try and unbutton his pants, wanting him to get inside you. Now. You gasped when your hand finally wrapped around his hardness. You tugged from base to tip and watched as his mouth dropped open in pleasure. “You need to fuck me” you demanded in a small voice. “Please. I need you so bad” you practically begged, hands pulling him closer. You both inhaled sharply when his cock nudged against your pussy.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he slipped into you slowly, hands rubbing soothing circles on your hip. “You take me so well” he praised. You let the praise get to your head. It always did when anyone praised you. “Thank you” You whimpered and cried out again as Michael moaned loudly when he finally bottomed out into you, deep and hard inside of your pussy.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and settled your calves against his hips. “Fuck” he growled lowly and bared his teeth a bit. “My pussy that good?” You teased and pulled him down a bit to look into his eyes. “Fuck me like you mean it” you whispered hotly against his wet plump lips. You shut your eyes as his hips pulled back and snapped back against you.

You moaned loudly and pushed your chest up against his. Michael moaned against your mouth, pressing his forehead against yours. There it was again. The caring touch he let slip out. He snapped out of it and pulled out to flip you over onto your stomach. He grabbed your hips to pull you up. He slapped your ass harshly and pushed back into you.

You moaned into the blankets and squeezed your eyes shut as his hips began to pound against you. His cock was hitting spots you had no idea were even there. Your hand reached back to grab his hip but he beat you to it and grabbed your shoulders, using that as leverage to pound into you more. You choked on your gasps at the sudden movement.

And damn. You didn’t know. Genuinely didn’t know Michael had it in him. “Didn’t know you- fuck! Had it in you” you choked out and smirked as Michael pushed his cock deeper and kept it there. “What did you say?” Michael asked as he dropped you from his grip on your shoulders. You huffed into the comforter. “I said I didn’t know you had it in you” you say back. Man you really regretted saying that.

But that was the fun. Seeing just how riled up you could get Michael. Without any warning, he picked up his brutal pace again. His hips were slapping against your ass so loud that you were afraid someone would call the RA. You lost yourself in the pleasure. It was coursing through you again. Making your stomach flip and clench. Your pussy tightening around him as you grew closer to your orgasm. “You better fucking cum” Michael demanded as he slapped a hand down against your ass.

The flood gates opened. A long and loud moan fell from your mouth as you released all that pent up pleasure around his cock. You moaned as you felt him release as well, pushing against his tight grip as he breathed shakily. His body was also shaking from the pleasure of finally getting to cum after a while. He pulled out carefully and pushed a hand through his hair.

It was quiet. Michael was getting himself cleaned up and so were you. You were in the bathroom as Michael used the sink to wash whatever cum he got on himself. You caught his glances once in a while. But you didn’t question it. You pulled your sports bra and new panties on before climbing into bed. Your gaze fell on the blonde once more.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting from Michael. To stay? To cuddle? Say something to you? “That was fun” you finally said. Your gaze settled on the ceiling as you laid under your comforter. “Yeah” You heard Michael utter. “Well” he said awkwardly as he walked towards the door. You sat up on your elbows and watched him open it.

“Um this...doesn’t make us a thing alright? So don’t get weird” you felt your heart drop. “Okay...” and the door shut. And you were once again alone. And angry you let him do things with you.

#michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader #ahs smut #ahs imagine #:my writing

[wide-eyed--wonderer]

“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Ok so I did not plan the first part of this fic, it just kinda happened. Also, I know nothing about fashion or tux OR tux fittings. So like, I apologies for that. 

“Race if you don’t get our ass downstairs in 10 minutes, I will come up there and pour cold water over you AND Spot.” 

Race groaned at Albert's voice over the speakerphone and curled in closer to Spot. 

“Sweet, you have to get up,” Spot sighed, attempting to push Race away from him, which only caused his fiance to curl in tighter. 

“It’s too early Spottie,” Race whined, “Al can wait 5 more minutes.”

“Race, hunny, you know I love you with all my heart, but if your best friend comes up here and pours water over me because your ass was too lazy to get out of bed, I will kill you.” Spot successfully manoeuvred himself out from under Race and pushed him off the bed. 

“Problem solved, you’re up.”

“You are the worst Sean.” Race glared from the floor. 

“And you are a lazy ass, Tony. Go get ready and to help your best friend out.”

Race sighed, knowing he had lost the fight and that Albert really did need him right now. 

He got downstairs just within Albert’s ten-minute deadline. 

“Let me guess, Spot convinced you to get out of bed?” Albert greeted Race. 

“Convinced, pushed me out of bed, tomato tomato. Point is, I’m here now, at this ungodly time of morning you heathen. Let’s go do this thing so I can get back to bed.’

“Firstly Race, its 9am, not that early, second of all, take back the heathen statement because I’m your best friend and brought you coffee.” Race’s eyes widened at the coffee in Albert’s hand, snatching it from him and taking a long sip of it.

“Albert you are my favourite human being on the planet I’m sorry for ever saying otherwise.” Race got out, in between drowning himself in the coffee. 

“C’mon you, idiot. We’ve got places to be!” Albert cuffed Race on the back of his head and started walking.

“So Al,” Race said between sips of his coffee, “how ya feeling? You nervous?”

“About marrying Elmer, absolutely not. About the rest of the day, absolutely.” 

“Well as your best man,” Race nudged Al, “talk to me about it, see what I can do to help ya.”

“Well, really I’m just nervous about my extended family mingling with all of you guys and - Race have you finished that coffee already, it’s been like 5 minutes and that was a venti?” Race shrugged in response, throwing the empty Starbucks cup in a trashcan as they walked past. “You're insane. As I was saying, I love all you guys, but I’m not as… open? I guess with my extended family. I don’t want any of them to say anything and ruin the day of Elmer.”

“And you.” Race added.

“Yeah, I guess.” Al looked down, “but Elmer didn’t ask for that.”

Race put his hands on Albert's shoulder, causing Albert to stop and look at his best friend. 

“First of all, you didn't ask for this either. I know your extended fam can be kinda a nightmare. It's not your fault. Secondly, I will be responsible for making sure all our friends behave. Ok. Just leave it up to me. And maybe a few threats from Spot”

Albert snorted. “Thanks, Race. You're the best.”

“Anytime Al. And we’re here.” Tace opened the door. “After you, good sir.”

“Dumbass.”

Race’s retort was cut off by a sales assistant. 

“Hello boys, what can I do for you today?” 

“My good friend Albert here,” Race said, placing a hand on Albert’s shoulder, “ is getting married and needs a tux.” 

“Of course come through to the fitting room, and will get you some suits to try on.”

As the boys were waiting in the fitting room, Albert turned to Race. 

“I need you to be completely honest with me. I’m shit at fashion and what looks good.”

“I knew you only kept me around all these years for my impeccable fashion sense.”

“Well clearly, it wasn’t for your shining personality.”

Race’s retort was again cut off by the shop assistant. But he had his back turned, so Race stuck out a tongue at Albert who rolled his eyes right back. 

“If you come through here sir, you can try on this first suit.” 

When Albert came out again, he could see Race containing a laugh. 

“What do you think?” The shop assistant asked Albert. Albert, having no fashion sense, looked helplessly to Race, who swallowed a laugh and said,

“Maybe not coattails, and could we look at a grey suit as well. And a tie, no bowtie.” 

“Of course.” The shop assistant nodded. “You boys wait here. I’ll be right back.”

The second the assistant was out the door, Race started laughing. In between wheezes, he barked out 

“You… you look like… like…. Like a penguin.” Causing Race to collapse into even more laughter. And Albert to walk over and start hitting with his cap he’s walked over in. 

“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

“I hate you. Why do I keep you around again.”

“So you don’t look like a penguin at your wedding.” Race had a point, the suit had long coattails, and with the white shirt, bowtie and tophat Albert was wearing. He looked a little like a penguin. 

Luckily he managed to compose himself before the Shop assistant came back. 

Half an hour later, the boys left the shop, with an appointment to come back the following week for a fitting for the grey suit that Race had picked out.

“So, Spot’s gone to work. Wanna get lunch.”

“You mean, wanna go annoy Charlie at Jacobi while he’s working?”

“You know me too well Al.” Race replied, linking arms with his best friend and walking toward Jacobis. 

There you go! let me know what you think!! 

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies drabble #racetrack higgins #race newsies #albert dasilva #albert newsies #spot conlon #spot newsies #sprace #platonic ralbert #prompts #prettyinlimegreenboots #my writing

[trashforhockeyguys]

Don’t Hold Me -2- Carter Hart

A/N: The long awaited second part! I’m trying my best to really start working on this, so that I can queue it all up for you guys. I’m pretty excited for where this series is going to go. Just stick with me for a bit 

You tried to convince Travis that you didn’t need to go to his game. You’d been to one already this season, and all of the people were too much for you. But he wouldn’t listen, despite the fact that you tried to tell him that you had projects due on Monday, and not that you didn’t love him, but you just couldn’t all of it.

So, you found yourself sitting in the family box, hiding out in the corner, as far away from the rest of the group as you could. Maybe Travis told them to leave you alone, because after a quick round of hello when you walked in, no one said anything else to you.

So, you sat and watched. Anxiety bubbled up during the whole game. You hated watching them play in person because of the feeling you’d get inside the arena. All you could think about was what would happen if one of them got hurt, if Travis got hurt. You didn’t know what you’d do if he got hurt. 

“Y/N? Honey? Are you okay over there?” One of the wives finally asked. 

You looked up and nodded. You hadn’t realized that a good majority of them were all looking at you. You could feel the worry rippling off of them. You tried to talk yourself out of whatever you were feeling. You found yourself playing with the sleeves of your baggy jersey. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have even worn one if Travis hadn’t insisted. 

You normally didn’t feel this sick when you were at a game, yet you felt like you might vomit at anytime. You wanted to run, but you couldn’t do that to Travis, or Nolan. They both wanted you here, so for them you’d stay. 

Your hands were shaking by the end of the third. You couldn’t calm your nerves for anything. No matter how hard you tried. Your eyes kept dating around the ice, from Travis to Nolan, even to Carter. You couldn’t get your head straight. 

When the buzzer sounded. They won at least, but they’d all been pretty beat up during the game. You could tell by the way that Travis was skating around, he was stiff and pain was already starting to set in after a bad hit half way through the second.

You found you way down to all of the guys. Travis was already waiting on you by the time you got down there. He looked alright, but you knew that he was going to feel it all later. You just hoped he’d remember to take advil before he went to bed. 

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place,” He shrugged, “I know you have that project due, but I also know your computer is in your bag in your car. So, I promise you can get it done.”

“Why?”

“Ethan was worried. He called before the game. You should probably call him tomorrow, or he might actually fly out here.”

“I’m fine Travis, you don’t need to babysit me. Roomie is gone for the weekend, I think she’s with one of the frat boys. So I’m just going to go back to my room and finish my project.”

“Exactly, you wouldn’t do anything else if I didn’t force you to leave every now and again,” he argued, “Please, I’d feel better if you stayed with me for the weekend. Please?”

“Yeah, c’mon Y/N, please?” Nolan joked, popping up behind Travis.

“You two are worse than toddlers, you do know that, right?”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Fine, Travis, if I say yes will you shut up?”

“Yes. For now.”

You sighed and hauled your bag back onto your shoulder. You hadn’t planned on staying anywhere but your own bed. But you also had clothes already at Travis’s place, because you stayed there so much.

“I’ll meet you two dumbasses there.”

Hour later, you were actually able to finish your project before settling down with the boys, a bottle of beer in hand. Normally you wouldn’t drink, you never liked the idea. But occasionally you’d have one or two with Travis and Nolan, just because they were your boys. 

You felt comfortable and at home with them. Truthfully you didn’t know if you’d ever really be able to feel this safe in the presence of guys again. But you knew that when it came to the two of them, they’d never lift a finger to hurt you. 

So, you all stayed in the living room together, just enjoying the simplicity of being together. They were the closest thing you had to family here. You loved them in ways that you couldn’t always explain. You didn’t know why you were able to let the two of them in, and no one else. But they were here. 

You stayed there all weekend. Laughing with them as they tried to play the Xbox, and failed at it. You let go and just allowed yourself to be. It was easy to do with them. They didn’t judge you or push you. They’d pick you up from as many parties as you tried to go to. They took care of you in ways that you didn’t even realize you needed. 

“So what’s your project on?” Travis asked. 

“Van Gogh. It’s for my Art History class.”

“I keep forgetting you’re an art major.”

“Yeah well, I am.” You couldn’t help but laugh. 

The boys didn’t see you covered in paint or smudges of charcoal and graphite. There were days that almost your whole body would be covered. They often missed you bent over a project in the studio, trying to get a little bit of shading just right. 

Sometimes, while you were watching their games from your dorm room, you’d try to sketch them out. Even if it was just a way for you to take a break from whatever project you were working on for school. 

Your big brother Ethan used to make fun of the way your face would scrunch up when you were trying to get everything just right. Travis wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing you working hard in the corner after a game was over. Back when they played together, the rest of their teammates loved it when you drew them.

“Done anything new?” Travis asked.

“Nothing worth seeing.”

He sighed and fell back onto the couch, positioning himself in a very strange way before cracking a smile, “Paint me like one of your french girls.”

You busted out laughing and chucked a pillow at him, “Ew. Absolutely not.” 

You fell asleep on the couch, practically laying across both boys. You felt safe with them, and you liked that feeling. They were your family, not by blood, but by everything else that matters. They were probably the only things keeping you sane in Philly. 

The weeks went by slowly. You’d go to games, hang out with the boys, go to classes, and do it all over again. You liked the routine and you liked being able to spend time with them. Yet, every now and again they’d bring up Carter, and why you acted the way that you did. 

Travis knew not to push about it. Nolan was just curious. You did your best to answer what you could. But even you didn’t understand why you acted the way that you did. But something about Carter scared you in a way that you hadn’t experienced before. You weren’t sure what to do about any of it. 

The following week was the same. Classes, spending more time in the art studio than you should’ve, and catching a game or two if you were able. If they were home, you’d spend time with Travis and Nolan, mainly because you wanted to avoid your roommate. 

However, the only thing that you decided to do differently was go to a coffee shop, two weeks later. Truthfully, you weren’t big on coffee, which was something you got made fun of for. You never lived and breathed Starbucks in high school like half of the other girls in your school. Nor did you feel the need to drink coffee every single morning. So the fact that you felt the need to stop at the small little cafe just off of campus was unusual.

But you’d been up all night trying to finish a project, and for once you needed coffee to get you through the day. You weren’t opposed to something sweet either. You could practically hear your brother and Travis making fun of you. You knew the second you walked into Travis’s apartment you wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

You were bouncing on your toes as you waited for your order. You promised Travis you’d be at his place by now. Although, knowing him, he was too wrapped up in a game to realize you were already late. You knew he was probably sprawled out on the couch, yelling at someone over a headset. 

You were about to cross the street and start your walk to Travis’s apartment when someone grabbed you and pulled you back, just before a car came speeding past you. Your heart started racing as you realized just how close you were to turning into Regina George at the end of Mean Girls. You barely even noticed that your coffee was now all over your shoes and jeans. Nor did you notice that the stranger still had a hold of your shoulders. 

“Shit! Are you okay?”

You quickly turned around and removed yourself from their grasp, “Yeah...Thank you.”

“Y/N? Shit you need to watch where you’re going.”

“Carter? What are you doing down here?”

You were a little shocked to be honest, normally none of the guys came this close to campus. Aside from Travis, but only when he was coming to get you. As far as you knew, most of them avoided campus all together. Yet, here Carter was, way too close for comfort. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” He replied, “But I was grabbing a bite before heading over to Teek’s.”

“You’re going to over to Travis’s?”

“Yeah, he texted not long ago and said him and Patty were playing Fornite or something. I don’t know. I figured it’d beat sitting alone all day.”

“Damnit. I’m going to kill him.”

The realization seemed to hit him and he took a step back, “You’re on your way over, aren’t you?”

“We have a stupid tradtion. But it’s fine, I’ll just go back to my dorm and work on another art thing I’m doing.”

“No, don’t cancel because of me. Actually, why don’t you let me give you a ride?”

You shook your head and took another step away from him. Getting in a car with him was not something you wanted to do. Nor did you want to spend a whole day with all of them. You knew Travis would just make fun of you the whole time. You weren’t going to put yourself, or Carter, into that situation. 

You took another step back, finally realizing your shoes were ruined from the coffee, and your pants were wet, “Damnit, these were my favorite pair.”

You groaned and looked around. You knew Carter was still waiting for you to agree to something you weren’t going to do. You knew Travis was trying to do something that you didn’t agree with by forcing you two to be together. You couldn’t understand why it was so important to him. He never cared if you were friends with his teammates before. 

“I’ll just call Trav on my way back to my dorm and tell him something came up. Go keep him company or whatever. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, please.”

You turned to start walking down the street when Carter called after you again, “Look, I’m sorry for being a dumbass before. But seriously, why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you. You think I hate you?”

“You’ve kinda made it pretty clear. This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to me, and it’s because you’re arguing with me.”

“Yeah well, I don’t hate you. Thanks for making sure I didn’t become roadkill.”

With that you turned and finally started to make your way to your dorm. He didn’t try to stop you this time, which you were thankful for. When you were sure that you were far enough away, and he’d have no chance of hearing you, you pulled your phone out and called Trav. 

He didn’t answer, which you half expected, he hardly answered his phone, unless it was his mom. 

“Travis fucking Konecny, I’m going to fucking kill you. Seriously? What were you going to do? Lock Carter and I in a room together until I decided I wanted to be friends? Have fun playing Fortnite or whatever. And please just stop whatever this is. I don’t want it, or him, or whatever.”

You knew Travis wouldn’t be happy with you when he actually listened to it. Nor would he be thrilled when Carter told him about your run in today. He’d probably tell you to stop pushing everyone away from you, because that’s all you ever did these days. But it was all you knew how to do. 

You were just fine the way you were. You didn’t need anyone else. Other people just complicate things. You were fine alone. Why Travis felt the need for you and Carter to be friends, you couldn’t understand. But you didn’t need him. You were fine. You were okay.

#Carter hart #Carter hart imagine #Carter hart imagines #Carter hart fanfic #Carter hart fan fiction #flyers imagine #flyers imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nicolewritesthings

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Twelve, "The Resolute"

Word Count: 8.4k /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: Hold Me While You Wait by Lewis Capaldi (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"I never know when I will miss you. I can't ever predict just what will grip my heart with the reminder that you are gone. It could be anything. Anytime. Anywhere. You are everywhere and nowhere all at once. When the days are bright, I am blinded by your presence and even when the world is dark I still manage to find you. In laughter, I hear the echo of losing you. Your presence is overflowing in the tears that fall. Now that your body is gone, everything holds your being. I miss you in the cold depths of winter and I long for you in the thick summer breeze. You are my first rising thought in the morning and my last notion as I sink into the heaviness of the night. I thought we ran out of moments together, but every moment seems to belong to you. How can you be everywhere when you are nowhere to be seen? I used to worry about facing the world because I didn't know what would trigger my heartache. I used to be afraid of every feeling, every memory, every moment because I didn't know which ones held you. Now I know you are everywhere and I think that I know why. You're everywhere because you're somewhere inside of who I am. I am the bearer of your life and your memory. I am the keeper of your existence. Even though you're gone, I never really have to search for you. I never know where I'll find you but you are always there. I never know when I will miss you and it happens all the time"

- Rachel Whalen

I had lost count of how many times I had fallen back asleep since he had left for another day of work, the second time in the last few days. I’d be telling a lie if I said that I didn’t miss him, because like he’d confessed when he thought I was sleeping, I missed him all of the time too. The difference was that I felt it now when he was gone. I wasn’t sure why I’d bitten his head off that night about going back to work. I did but couldn’t think about it after the way he broke down in front of me and I just stood there. I didn’t do a thing. Instead, I shook my head and pushed him away. God, how could I do that to him? I thought he’d moved on . . . That’s how it went. I’d wake up to an empty, cold bed and the guilt would come in crashing waves. The hot tears would follow and eventually, I’d fall back into another fitful sleep. Nightmares were almost always guaranteed, but for the first time in our relationship, I comforted myself back to sleep. Somehow, they didn’t wake him like before, but last night when he woke with a gasp that melted into tears, I think I knew because he was busy with his own.

At first, I thought I’d been imagining it, or maybe that was just my coping mechanism by now. Denial and pretending. No, it really was and it went around like a circle. Denying the denial. But when the knocking on the door turned into the dinging of the doorbell, I knew that it was real. It didn’t stop after a few times, like the mailman would. No, this person was persistent, and I definitely was not. I couldn’t even find the strength to move to look at the alarm clock to see the time. By then, it had stopped. He’d only been gone an hour now and I missed him deeply, finding it hard to not pick up the phone to ask him to come home. I did but in my own way, and not one he’d understand, despite how he knew every page of my book.

I hope work is going well

Only a few minutes passed before a reply came in with a silent vibration.

thanks it is, just meetings again and an interview

Sounds boring. I know how you hate both. New hire?

possibly. i forgot to tell u gwen left. i hope ur getting some rest

No, you hadn’t but that’s ok. I think I only talked to her like 5 times. I’m trying.

ya she was good, just kept 2 herself. want me 2 pick up anything for lunch? anything soundin good? Starbucks? pizza? u can have whatever u want

You can pick

At that, I heard my phone lock before placing it face down onto the bedside table, not able to continue a conversation about food any longer. Another wave of irrational tears came at missing him and wanting normalcy back, but the fitful sleep didn’t follow. I wasn’t sure if I was regretful or not when I peeled back the covers, shocked by the sudden cold.

The chilling silence filling the house hit me in the face when I stepped out into the hallway. It had been choking at times, mostly at night when things were at their worst. During the day, like now, it was never this quiet. Something on the tv was always playing, and I soon found myself in front of it, watching the end of a Marvel movie Harry and I once watched.

Its sequel was nearing the halfway point by the time the doorbell rang again. It was on its fourth time now and the person still hadn’t stopped. The surprise on their face was just as strong as that of mine when I found myself at the door, in front of Harry’s grandmother.

“Hi, Becky,” she said softly, a warm cadence to her words like always. I may have been biased towards grandmas, but Harry’s checked all of the points and more. I couldn’t help the squeeze of my heart at the mere sight of her, a melancholy smile spreading on her lips.

“Claire. Um, hi. Harry isn’t here right now, he had to go into work this morning,” I rush, unsure of why I’m telling her this, except for I know why. I hadn’t spoken to another human being that wasn’t Harry or my doctor since . . since it had happened. Sure, texts to Skye, my dad, and Robbie. It was the only way to placate them from telling them I didn’t want to see them. Can I blame them, though?

“Oh, that’s okay. I was uh, hoping I could come in,” she suggests. I stand there, taken aback by her request. I had come to love this woman like she was my own grandmother, and yet here I am, not opening the door for her. “Maybe we could wait for him together with some brookies.”

Dropping my eyes, I watch as she lifts a saran wrapped plate of chocolatey looking cookies. I didn’t need to look any longer to know what they were. Her famous brownie cookies that Harry had compared any cookie or brownie of mine to over the years, and I eventually had found out why.

“You know I can’t turn those down,” I mumble, feeling the first hints of a smile. She grins for me instead, following me into the house that somehow feels even emptier when we step inside. Awkwardly, I closed the door behind her, pulling my hands back into the oversized King’s College crewneck of Harry’s I’d stolen long ago. “Can I . . Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Tea?” I stumble, watching as she takes a seat at the island, setting down one of those cloth bags beside her.

“Coffee would be fine, honey,” she says, and always with a smile. I welcome the distraction, feeling as if I’d forgotten how to talk to another person. No, I know that I have. I hadn’t even been able to carry on a conversation with Harry, nonetheless his grandmother.

At times, I still felt uncomfortable around his parents, especially his dad. If there was one of them that I felt the easiest around, it was Claire. I’m reminded of the bouquet of black eyed susans probably now wilting on the table when she notes the array of flowers taking up space over there. I nod at her words while closing the lid of the instant coffee machine, placing a tall mug underneath the spout. The compassionate words scribbled in her cursive with its accompanying card come back to me, and suddenly, the steaming coffee grows blurry before my eyes. Sometimes, I wondered if she had a feeling about things like me, because as the first tear fell, she speaks an apology.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I had let Harry know I was in town and would stop by today, but he must have forgotten to mention it to you,” she begins in a low volume, a Harry-like molasses shining in her voice. I mumble an ‘it’s okay’ while watching the coffee continue to fill the mug. It’s almost done, but then what will I do to distract myself? “Harry had said your fridge was quite full, but I couldn’t help but make a few of your favorites to bring you both. Times like these, cooking feels like the last thing you want to do.”

“A lot of things do,” I find myself saying, surprising her I’m sure and especially myself. I hadn’t even been able to find it in myself to put that feeling into words and say them to Harry. It was a blessing and a curse how we could read each other so well, but I know I’d closed myself off from him a long time ago. On accident and then, on purpose.

Ripples form across the surface of the liquid as the last few drops plummet into the dark abyss. I wait, staring at the steam rising from the mug, unsure as to why. A silence had embedded itself into these walls so long ago I couldn’t remember, and it sat between us now too. I still didn’t know how to broach it, and there was no nudging the switch that would let me talk about her. I truly didn’t know how to, not even to her father. Sometimes, I wanted to forget her so I’d stop hurting, but that felt like an impossibility and then a crime. Gulping, I wipe at my cheeks and thread my fingers through the ceramic handle.

“Those are a beautiful assortment of flowers,” she comments again when I set the drink down in front of her. A forced ‘thank you’ leaves my lips when I turn around and walk towards the fridge. “You and Harry are so loved, and so was your baby.”

I’d opened this fridge how many times over the years, and now as the handle sits in my palm, I can’t find it in myself to do it. The forgotten coupons, lists, photographs, drawings from Harper and Ollie, and magnets grew hazy before my eyes. The hum of the coffee machine cooling down wasn’t enough to mask the whimper that escaped my lips, no matter how desperately I tried to shove it down. After breathing in and out a few times, it still didn’t help, but I was able to open the door and grab what I’d needed.

Keeping my head down, I set the coffee creamer in front of her, not spending a second more facing her with the damage on my cheeks. As the spoon clinks against the sides of her mug, I distract myself by finding room in the fridge for the filled tupperware containers she’d taken from the bag. Scribbled labels adorn the top of each one, but I look past them as I stack them on a shelf. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stand from her seat to look at the flowers, thumbing at the typed messages. It’s not until the last one is snug against a container of yogurt and strawberries that somebody says something.

“They always say the same things, don’t they?” she murmurs with an out of place scoff, sounding like a hum from her lips. The tears had dried up as I thought about how to fit a container of beef stroganoff amongst tater tot casserole, but when I turned around, her face still falls. “It was the same with Steven too. They all say that they understand, but there’s no way that they can. They hadn’t lost their spouse, or . . their baby.” This roots me to the spot and we spend the next few moments looking at each other as her Soft Rose lipsticked lips fall.

“I didn’t want to come, Becky, because I know that when I lost my loves, I wanted to be alone. But that was where my demons lied in wait, and I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did when I lost my baby,” she continues. I couldn’t tell if it was the light or the way my eyes deceive me with a returning wetness, but a similar glint appears in hers. It holds my attention for a mere moment until my heart starts to pound against my ribs. “Steven and I were a little younger than you and Harry when we lost our baby at four months.”

There could be no saving my throat nor my eyes as I gulp against the dryness, feeling all of the wetness detour down my face. Her words ricochet inside of me, bouncing off walls. For the first time in too long, they sink in and make me feel something. I resist at first, not wanting to let my chest shake or my heart race, but there’s no stopping it. Staring back at her, she quietly sits back down and takes a sip from her coffee. Looking back to me, a corner of her mouth twitches as a gleaming droplet beads at her chin.

“What has it been now? Fifty five years and I still miss them . . my little baby,” the blood pounds in my ears as I stare at her in what, amazement? Horror? Complete and utter surprise? Probably, all of them.

“Gran, I-I never knew,” a voice says from behind me. Turning, another wave of shock courses through me at the sight of Harry with his hand on the door to the garage.

“I never told anybody, except for my immediate family when it had happened . . The thing was, the taboo around miscarriages and infertility hasn’t changed a whole lot since then. It disappoints me really . . Back then, you didn’t talk about it. Now, sometimes you talk about it, but it’s just the same. It’s near to impossible to speak about. Friends and family want to say something, but they don’t know how to without hurting you. So, instead of mentioning the loved one you lost, people don’t when they think of them, and they’re forgotten. That’s always been my worst fear, and I don’t want either of you to go through that- I cried when your mother told me what had happened, Harry. My heart breaks for the both of you, knowing that you’re going through the same nightmare that my Steven and I did.”

A puff leaves his lips and I can almost hear him gulp as sound evades us. Words haven’t been a friend to my lips in what feels like months, and right now isn’t an exception.

“I’m so sorry, Gran.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. I’m so sorry that you lost your baby . . I heard it was a girl, your daughter,” her words are ginger and slow. Somehow, another piece joins the puzzle, but it still leaves me staring at the floor as tidal waves crash inside of me. “It was a long time ago, but I still miss them and wonder who they’d be. I’m sorry to say that never goes away, and that the whole b-s of ‘time heals all wounds’ isn’t entirely true. You just build up scar tissue to it, but some days are worse than others. I miss Steven terribly some days, like the day you announced your engagement, and your pregnancy. When your mother told me over the phone three weeks ago, I wished he could’ve been there too, for you to talk to about fathers losing a child. Men are still pressured to not show emotions but it was just as hard on him to lose our baby, and sometimes fathers are forgotten.”

A mess of emotions roils inside of me, flipping my stomach upside down. My heart too, arguably. The last sound that I make out is a sniffle of his before I’m bringing my hands to my eyes, and sobbing against them. It felt like I stood there for minutes before escaping down the hall, when it was only a few seconds in reality.

I wasn’t certain if they knew what I did. That I could hear them from the bedroom down the hall, the place I’d come to retreat to instead of Harry’s arms. I felt him coming towards me just moments ago, but I couldn’t do it. I think I’d almost forgotten what his touch felt like. If they thought I could hear them, they probably had mistaken me for being asleep or for not listening. I think they tried to keep their voices down, but despite Harry being a closet musician, there wasn’t much for treatment to these walls. He’d joked before about having sex one night his mom stayed here but I pushed him away, chalking it up to thin walls.

Now, the memory wasn’t that funny to me as I heard their conversation. I almost felt guilty, as if I was cheating by hearing them, but this was the only way I could take part in a conversation I know I should be part of. I didn’t think that I could even speak if I had wanted to, because of the hiccuped sobs that filled my chest, making it hard to speak. I know that I made the right decision when my head rests against the door upon hearing about what they say next, about me.

“I can hardly get her to have a conversation with me, Gran. Let alone about . . about the baby.”

“Oh, Harry. You just have to give her time.”

“I know and I have, but it’s becoming all the harder to feel as time passes. She’s getting worse and I’m barely staying put together. It scares me so much, because I don’t want to lose her too. If I did, I’d lose everything I have to live for.”

At last, the sound of my choked sobs drowned out that of their voices. By the time my lungs calmed down and my heart hardened once more, it was quiet. I missed his voice despite how it had almost betrayed me to another, and made me hurt. My rumbling stomach ultimately won the race and it was what led me down the hall, and without knowing, back to her. I blamed it on the appetizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

I’d already seen her and had decided to keep going, but upon passing the island where she sat again, I heard her intake of breath. Harry wasn’t anywhere to be seen, despite the wiped clean plate in the sink with the large fork and an empty can. He was the only one who used them and who drank the sparkling waters that I thought tasted like bug spray.

“I’m so sorry, Becky. The last thing I wanted was to upset you, honey.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Frankly, I’m rather tired of people saying those two words, but thank you,” I return, a steadiness arriving in my voice that I didn’t know I’d missed. “Can I-?”

“Of course, it’s all yours,” she insists with a smile. Nodding, I pick up the serving spoon and a plate, feeling my stomach grow happy at the sight and smell of her famous homemade lasagna. “There’s garlic bread in the oven and salad in the fridge. I’m just going to use the little girl’s room.”

I almost smile, realizing that I’ve missed her and just maybe, I feel okay enough to talk about it. I’d found a seat at the island beside her empty cup of coffee, already digging into the lasagna. An almost embarrassing moan left my lips at the taste of the layers of cheese, pasta, and bolognese sauce.

“Leave it to Claire to find the way to your heart,” somebody comments. Turning, I find Harry walking towards me with a tilt to his lips. He unrolls the hem of a Queen Bohemian Rhapsody shirt, looking more like himself now that he’s out of a suit. Sometimes, I still catch myself thinking that it was always the opposite, seeing how I’d know him to always be in suits for so long.

To my surprise, I don’t flinch or pull back when his hand arrives on my shoulder as I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you eating, and enjoying it . . I’m surprised you haven’t broken into that plate of brookies yet,” he comments. Something happy buds on my lips when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple.

“So am I,” I reply, cutting myself another bite of the food. To my happiness, his arm comes around my shoulder and stays there. I welcome it and feel a warmth grow in my gut upon finding the courage to meet his eyes. They hold something that I learn to be mischief when he plucks one of the cookies off the plate. “Hey, save some for me.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all yours. Well, except a few for me. Maybe we could split them down the middle. Half for me and half for you,” he suggests with a cocky shrug to his broad shoulders. It surprises us both when my lips spill a few second giggle. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed you,” it’s but a squeak and still, I know he hears it by the sad curl of his lips. “I’m going to try.”

“Thank you, my lovebug. That’s all I can ask for,” he smiles, stealing a quick peck from my lips. It catches me off guard and I find myself staring at him while he manages to take a bite that’s half of the cookie. He winks at me and I turn away, shoveling a large bite of cheesy pasta past my lips.

Another bite had donned my fork by the time Claire found her seat beside us. I’d made a dent in my garlic bread by now as Harry worked on his second cookie.

Swallowing, I loaded my fork with a scrap of melted cheese and bolognese sauce. “Claire. How . . How did you do it? Be okay again after losing your baby? It . . It feels impossible,” the words seem to come from nowhere at first.

After a few moments, I know where they stem from, and just how much importance they hold. It looks back at me in Harry’s eyes when I peer up at him, smiling back when he thumbs away a tear below my eye. As her response hits our ears, I reach my arm out and across his back, holding tightly onto his side. I didn’t let go once as we cried together with his grandma about our lost babies, and neither did he.

I went to bed with a hope in my heart, thinking that tomorrow would be different. Alas, I woke up to an empty bed and it wasn’t. I wasn’t surprised but sure, I was let down. I knew that somebody else would be much more disappointed than I was, if that were possible.

It wasn’t long after my waking realization that there was a knock on the door anda creak, “Hey, buggie. I’m making french toast. How many pieces do you want?” The rest of the night had been uneventful, for once. His grandma stayed for another hour or two as we ate cookies and I finally talked about it. Her. Now, lying with my back to Harry, I didn’t know how to do that again. To talk. “Wakey wakey, it’s nearly noon.”

His voice was closer now as his hands settled on my shoulders from behind. The feeling of his thumbs kneading the tissue made me want to let him drive away the intrusive thoughts. To let him win, but I didn’t know how. Yesterday had seemed like a fluke, as I looked back on it. Even if he was her father, how could I explain to him the hollowness that had filled me when I remembered that my child had died inside of me? No, that wasn’t something he could understand, nor could he hear how much I wished he had been there that morning. That the fact he wasn’t there had changed everything. I couldn’t tell him that and I never wanted to, but I’d gotten close. At the times his nagging and hovering drove me up the wall, my tongue itched to deal the worst blows just to get him off my back. I knew it was wrong, so much of it was but I didn’t know how to stop. All I knew how to do was to drown myself in my regret afterwards. Sometimes, I was mad that we couldn’t keep alcohol around, but at others, I was glad for it.

His molasses voice murmurs my name once more, another time that I ignore, until I can’t. “No thanks.”

“I can bring it in here for you. There’s bacon and strawberries too. Orange juice, as well.”

Shaking my head, I bury my face deeper into the pillow, finding that it has his smell. At one time, he had been my safety blanket, but now it was his smell that could calm me down. I wanted to feel guilty about it but I didn’t have the energy to feel guilt because of anything else as it was all focused on one thing.

“I’ll have a little bit,” I surrender, listening to his hopeful response before leaving. For once, he let me eat alone in the bedroom. But he still inspected my plate, and I could tell that he was biting back a remark as he read the paper at the island.

“Can we talk?”

“What about?” I replied, bending over to place my dishes in the dishwasher. Standing back up, I fail at readying myself for his next onslaught of questions. The ones that I can’t answer.

“You know . . About Phoebe,” he answers. I hear it, the way he has to shove the words past his lips in order to get them out. I only know because I’ve done it a thousand times, and often with him. You do it when it’s too hard to say, but you know that it has to be done regardless.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Becks,” he sighs, annoyance clear in his voice. “I thought you said that you were going to try. Last night went so well and you did great, I-.”

“I just can’t do it today. Okay, Harry?” I retort tearfully, catching the sagging of his features when I lock eyes with him. Sighing, I forget the cookie I’d picked up, placing the saran wrap back over it.

“So what, we need to schedule a fricken time to talk about it?”

I’d begun my retreat, but I wasn’t far enough yet. No, if I was in earshot of Harry, it wasn’t over yet. It had always been that way, ever since the beginning.

“Harry, please,” my words start, decorated with tears that drag my words underwater.

“We got pregnant and we . . we had a miscarriage, Becks. It’s nearly been a month now, but what comes next? When do we get back to normal?”

I hadn’t even been facing him and the words felt like a slap in the face. The look on mine must have felt similar to him, because when I turn around to look at him through blurry eyes, he melts into a puddle of regret.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Becks. Not-.”

“Not what way, Harry? That we should just forget about it and move on with our lives? God, you’re sounding like the doctor the other day who said that we can start trying again whenever we want. But I don’t want to try again yet, Harry, because I’m too scared that we’d lose another one- I mean, what if I can’t have kids? And- I don’t want to forget her or replace her,” but he didn’t hear the last part and I hadn’t decided if I’d wanted him to.

“You don’t know that, Becks, and that’s not what I meant at all. I promise,” he interrupts. The legs of his oversized sweatpants sag down to his ankles when he stands. “I didn’t say we had to get pregnant again right away. I’m fucking scared too. I just mean that I want us to get better. Collectively and on our own. I hate seeing you so upset all of the time, and just want you to be happy. We’re supposed to get married sometime this year and I still don’t know when that’s going to happen. The house is going to be ready in a few months, and I wanted to bring you there one day to look at the progress.”

I had begun to shake my head long before he’d stopped talking. It brought an edge to his words and an annoyance that I didn’t like, despite inciting it. A loud puff passes his lips and he returns to the chair, raking a hand through his hair. That either meant annoyance or boredom, or both. Like I tend to do, I take it personally and figure he’s both annoyed and bored of me, not that it was anything new lately.

“I can’t do that, Harry. I-I can’t,” fumbling with my words, my hand gets caught in my hair as I avoid his eyes. It doesn’t stop him from retorting an inquisitive ‘why not?’ “How am I supposed to go and see the house we’re building that has five extra bedrooms, Harry? How do you expect me to look at the rooms we planned out for o-our kids, and one for . . for Phoebe’s nursery when she’s not coming anymore?”

“Becks,” the nickname leaves his lips like that one breath that’s knocked out of you when you fall. The wrinkles that are rarely there above his eyes return as his eyebrows fall deeply. “I didn’t . . I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“And so am I, but . . I just can’t do that right now, o-or talk about her. I’m sorry,” I say with haste to my words and in my actions. The sad sound from his lips follows me to the couch where I perch, pretending to watch the tv. He doesn’t join me and after a while of pretending, my eyes start to droop.

The image of Shrek and Fiona making animal balloons falls away until a sound wakes me. Time had passed because now Fiona stands in front of Lord Farquad and Shrek is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to run an errand. Is there um, anything you need, bug?” he murmurs, the jangling of keys adorning his words.

“No thanks.”

“Okay, I won’t be long- Becks?” he speaks up, clearing his throat at last. I call back a question and wait as he idles. “I really am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean anything insensitively or to upset you. I’d never want to do that.”

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” are the last words that pass between us before he bids me a goodbye. I welcome the lack of silence but curl into the couch more, pulling the blanket around me as the movie continues.

My head throbbed when I stood up, but it had been happening a lot lately. I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating much, and as I think about that, my feet lead me to the fridge.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt full after eating, and still wanting a cookie afterwards. Like I do now. Licking the crumbs from my fingers after the last bite, the wooden floor is cold against my bare feet. For a reason I don’t know, I soon am staring up the staircase, and in that direction. It pulls at me to climb the stairs, but something deep down throbs in denial.

Instead, my attention is stolen when my ringtone blares from the couch. I lose my phone half of the time these days and so calls went unanswered. Assuming it was Harry with a grocery question, I picked it up without looking at who it was.

“Hi, Boops.”

“Dad,” I almost sigh, but I was unsure as to why. Was it the bombardment of talking to my dad on the phone for the first time in almost a month? Most likely. Or was it the homesickness that grew in my gut at the sound of his voice. “Daddy.”

“Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d answer. I’ve missed your voice.”

Sinking onto the couch, my bottom lip quivers as I try to breathe in slowly, but my heart won’t listen. It hasn’t for a while now.

“I’ve missed yours, Daddy.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he says in an exhale. Already, I know that he hears what my voice is dipped in, but I don’t hide it. It was too late for that. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I’m getting really sick of that word, but thanks, Dad.”

His classical chuckle begins its opening but it falters there, and so did any chance at mine. Silence had rarely been uncomfortable with my Dad. That was only when I’d gotten into trouble or when I was trying to tell him about something that had happened with my Mom, which usually went hand in hand. Over the years, I could hardly count the times silence had grown awkward between us, until it did now.

“What are you doing?” he decides to say, lifting my eyes to the tv screen where it appears Fiona and Farquaad will get their Happily Ever After. I knew without needing to think what would happen next. They wouldn’t, because it never really happens that way. No, it’s not that easy or immediate.

“Watching Shrek on the couch.”

“Is Harry there?” he murmurs a question.

“No, he went to do something not long ago. I don’t know what,” I answer, wrapping the tassels of the blanket around my finger until it hurts. “I think he’s mad at me. I can’t tell anymore, it seems like he always is.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.”

Shaking my head for nobody to see, I taste blood when pressing my lips together to hold back the whimpering. Sniffling, I breathe in raggedly before speaking, “I think it is . . I can’t blame him, because I’ve been so horrible to him, Dad. H-He was supposed to be a Daddy and I’ve forgotten that he’s g-going through all of this too. I’ve been in my own little world being sad a-about the baby, and I forgot about him, Dad. I’m supposed to marry him soon, and I don’t even wear my ring anymore, and I can’t go upstairs, and-,” he doesn’t cut me off. I leave that honor for myself as I watch the color drain from my finger when I unwrap the tassel. I’d slowly come to hate the color red, even refusing to eat strawberries at first. It’d become the color I’d hated most after . . after that morning.

“I’m sure that he understands, Ree, or he’s at least trying to. I’ve spoken to him a few times now, and he’s not mad at you. He’s just frustrated and overwhelmed. Harry hates to see you unhappy, it’s always been that way with you too, and vice versa. He wants to fix everything, but I told him that’s not always possible. You can’t fix another person . . . and neither can you, Boops. You’re doing your best and so is he, and after a while-.”

“But I’m not, Dad. I’m hardly trying, only when I feel like it. I . . I don’t know how to do any of this and I don’t want to. I don’t want her to be gone. I was supposed to be a Mom. Her Mom,” I weep, pressing the handful of blanket against my eyes, catching my tears.

“I wish I could make it all better for you too, honey. Ever since you were little, I wanted to kiss the owies better and tell off the kids who were mean to you, but . . . you have to do it yourself and when you can, Becky. You can’t rush this. Grief, it doesn’t have a timetable or a road map- and, honey, you are a Mom. You’re Phoebe’s Mom. Nothing will ever change that,” somehow, I cry harder at his last words, melting into the couch.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I cry into the phone, wishing it was his shoulder, instead. It’s a few moments filled with the sound of my tears and his own sniffles, before I speak again. “But how do I . . how do I let Harry back in? I pushed him away without meaning to and now we’re so far apart, Dad.”

“I think that you need to remember that he’s grieving the loss of a child too. Your child together, Ree, and that he’s feeling the exact same feelings that you are. He’s devastated at not getting to be a father to Phoebe, to meet her, watch her grow up into a person, and do all of the things that you’re grieving the loss of too. You’re a team, honey, and you need to give each other some grace too. There aren’t any rules to this and maybe I shouldn’t talk because I’m divorced, but the first reason you’re there with each other is because you love each other. You have to remember that too, honey. Hey, I’m sorry, I think I’m burning my dinner in the oven. Can I call you back later, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Dad. Of course. Um, thank you. That really helped me,” I reply, swiping at my tears with the dry side of the blanket.

“I’m glad to hear it. I love you, Boops.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” and he’s gone. All I hear is the silence of the dead call and Shrek’s voice on the tv as he yells at Lord Farquaad. It’s what fills my ears and distracts my mind when I lay my head on the pillow, resting my hand on my belly without thinking. But unlike every other time I’d found myself doing it since . . since I was actually holding my baby, I let it stay there, wildly wishing she could be here watching Shrek with me.

I heard him come in when the credits of the movie are switching to the opening of its sequel. It was arguably the best, in my opinion, but it was something Harry and I had always disagreed upon. The memory sparks an invitation for him on my tongue, but upon raising my head, I watch him disappear down the hallway.

My ears aren’t sure what to focus on, the sound of his parting footsteps, the racing of my heart, or guitar strings soon being plucked from down the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice, because my feet were already leading me towards his study. A place where he had been spending a lot of time recently. I find myself gravitating towards the sound and wanting to hear more, but I stop outside the door nervously. My heart pulls me forward, despite the way it gallops, making me feel sick to my stomach. Standing there, I wonder why this is something I’m nervous about, but nothing is the same anymore. I hadn’t felt this way for what had it been now, years? There hadn’t been a time since the beginning that I was nervous to talk to Harry, and yet, here I stood doing just that.

His playing stopped and I perked up, making out the scribbling of pen on paper. Was he writing a song, I wondered quietly and wished I could ask. I didn’t know how to, and that was something I’d thought too many times lately. How to get out of bed. To eat a whole plate of food. Talk to my family and friends. I hardly even knew how to talk to Harry anymore. That’s what was holding me back, wasn’t it? Sure, if you wanted to sum it up.

“I know you’re standing outside the door . . Did you need something?” Harry murmurs, an edge to his voice. It was one that had appeared out of the blue and refused to leave. I only knew because I’d felt my voice change like that too.

There’s the creaking of the floor before I press the ajar door open enough for me to fit through. I find him sitting back down on his office chair, but he faces away from me, a guitar propped on his lap.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. His eyes flit to mine and I’m unsure of why I look away, except that I can’t face him. No, not when mine are still wet and I’m sure they aren't going to dry up anytime soon. Not after what I’m about to say.

“You forget how long I’ve known you,” he mumbles, peering down at the moleskin journal he scribbles in. “Four years, give or take. You learn their cues and the sounds they make when you come to know somebody for that long. That’s how I heard you at the door, it was your footsteps.”

“Oh,” I respond flatly, feeling dumb. His tone doesn’t imply it and nor do his words, but the embarrassment has run rampant already.

Watching him write and escape to his own little world had always been one of my favorite things to observe. Even his handwriting was something that brought me . . comfort. I blamed it on the familiarity, but as it pours from his pen, it makes my heart slow down a few ticks.

“My Dad called and we talked for a little bit.”

Harry hums a reply, crossing something out on the piece of paper. Scratching his head, he sighs whilst staring at the writing. I can’t make it out from here, but once again, the silence finds its old spot. Remembering his initial question when he heard me at the door, I worry that I’m bothering him. Gulping past the nervousness and doubt, I pedal forward.

“Was that yours?” I ask warily, noting his head rising so he can meet my eyes for a split second. They hold a question in them, perhaps dozens. “The song. It . . It was really pretty.”

“Yeah . . It’s just something I’ve been playing around with,” his answer comes out in a pillowy tone. It has changed ever since . . since I’d run away from him, and I hear it now as he speaks his reply.

“I really . . really like it,” I comment, looking towards the ceiling when his grandfather’s Gibson acoustic grows hazy in my eyes.

“Thank . . you. Hey, what is it? Did your dad say something that upset you?” it had been so long since I’d heard that steely edge absent from his voice. I don’t know why I mourned it, because it was my fault it had ever arrived in the first place. Wasn’t it? “Becks.”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things th-that made sense, actually,” I confess, dropping my head to stare at my fingers that I wring. I’m unable to ignore the feeling of my lips trembling against each other, despite busying myself with adjusting my rings. They stop when I arrive at the one that speaks volumes, and how deeply I’d ignored it.

Braving the storm, I finally look at him. His greens are patient and soft, something neither of our eyes have been for the other for awhile now. Without breaking eye contact, he settles his guitar onto its stand and discards the pad of paper.

“Harry, c-can I have a hug?” slowly, the overdue question comes.

“Of course,” he responds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. Already, he’s holding his arms out towards me. “You’ve never needed to ask, buggie.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling the air whoosh out of me when my body touches his. Somehow, my chest shakes harder with a new sob. It only worsens when his hands come under my thighs, lifting me up to sit on his lap.

“It’s been so long since we’ve hugged,” I know he doesn’t mean to, but it feels like a chasm through my chest when he says that. The guilt that had arrived at my dad’s words increases by tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” it’s but a whisper against his neck, my favorite place for hide and seek. But it was always him seeking me, it had been for months now, and I hadn’t let him win. Not once.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry for everything, Harry,” I repeat, pulling back to find his greens swarmed by tears. Swiping my thumb under them, I catch the way that they leak with sadness. “For how horribly I’ve treated you this last month, and how . . how I forgot that you- you lost our baby too.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to-,” he begins, adamant in his apology. One that I won’t accept.

“No, but I do have to apologize,” I sob, surprised at the way I’m shocked by the rough feeling of his cheeks. It had been so long since I’d touched him like this, despite watching him grow his beard out. “My dad, he . . he put it into perspective for me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, I hate myself for that, for-.”

“Hey, don’t hate yourself for anything. This last month has been a Hell we never thought we’d have to endure. Something we shouldn’t have to deal with, and one that isn’t our fault,” he insists, thumbing at the place where a dimple would usually fall in my left cheek. I’d forgotten it was there, just like I’d done the same to him.

“But all you’ve been doing is trying to take care of me, and I made that so hard for you,” comes my cry against his palm, feeling the way he holds me together from breaking for the thousandth time. No, that would imply I’d have been put back together, but that wasn’t something I’d done. “You tried to make me eat and I fought you on it until you stopped talking about it. I argued with you and ignored you when you were just trying to keep the world going, but you never stopped, even though I did. You didn’t stop living and loving me when I stopped.”

“Becks, it’s okay,” he repeats, the words sliding into my ears as my hand wanders to his neck. A hoodie with cartoons from our childhoods dons his upper half, tattoos peeking out from the color. I found the charm of his necklace instantaneously, something I could do in the dark.

“But it’s not, Harry. It’s not okay how I treated you. I forgot you and that you’ve been mourning the loss of your child too. Our b-baby,” I whimper, sniffling when I inhale uneasily. My fingers shake before me until he takes hold of my hand, surrounding it with his own before pressing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you, Becks. I always will,” Harry says, tucking his chin over my head when I melt against him. “I meant it that first night after we came home and you disappeared on me . . We lost our baby, our child, and I can’t . . I can’t lose you too, Rebecca. I have, time and time again, and I can’t do it again. I’ve hardly stayed pieced together lately being so far away from each other like we have . . God, the only thing that kept me going was just thinking, ‘one more day’ for so many days.”

Hiccuping, my hands brace themselves against his taut back, feeling his own drift along my spine. Shaking my head against the crook of his neck, I struggle to breathe, let alone speak, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t believe how awful I was to you. We’re supposed to get married soon, and I can’t even live up to that in sickness and health part of the vows.”

He continued to murmur assurances that everything was okay, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself believing him. Crying against his neck, I heard his own shed tears onto mine as my hands rubbed circles into his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you that day for going to work, even though you asked me and I said it was okay . . And-.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, Becks,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my head. Again, I believe him, and it feels easier to breathe. Just in the slightest.

“I was such a bitch to you.”

Something sparks inside of my chest at the sound I hear next, one that had been lost along the way. His laugh. His song.

“I’ve been known to be quite the dick on one or two occasions, as well,” I savor the glint that appears in his eyes upon pulling away. It had been one of the first times I was able to lift my head since before all of this had happened, because it had been better just to hide. No, not now.

The quirk to his lips is a full on tilt now, and through them, I’m reminded of what drew me to this man in the first place. It was those eyes and that smile that made me melt upon impact. Well, then there’s the sunshine they share, and how I taste it when his lips meet mine for really the first time in what, a month. Emotion pulls at me from somewhere underneath at the thought, but he makes me forget rather quickly. He’s always been good at that.

His peppermint chapstick sticks to my lips after he’s pulled away several seconds later, trying to catch his breath. The cobwebs have been dusted away in more ways than one, and it feels weird at first, wrong almost, but I laugh. It catches him by surprise too and his eyes focus on me, and only grow brighter.

“I’ve missed kissing you, and laughing with you,” Harry grins, pressing one more to my lips before brushing his nose against mine.

“So have I. I’m s-.”

“I swear, if you say that word one more time,” he tuts, shaking his head with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out something,” he says, sighing for the dramatic effect. I giggle along with him a moment later, remembering the flecks of gold hidden in his eyes. I remember a lot, too much almost, and the gold is gone as my eyes flood once more. “I know it’s hard, Becks. Something has never been this difficult for me . . for you either. But we have to talk, and I’ve been aching for ages now to talk to you . . I don’t want to ignore it, because they shouldn’t be forgotten. Our daughter. We need to talk about them, about her,” I’m nodding before he can finish, feeling his warm lips against my forehead as I focus on my breaths. “In and out, bug. In and out. We can do this. We’ll start slow.”

I haven’t stopped nodding, but once my lungs start to work again, I pull away and find his eyes once more. It comes to me and I can’t hold it back in anymore, knowing I need to say it first. To tell him.

“Okay, let’s talk about o-our daughter,” I begin, cringing at the sound of my voice breaking already. He nods, cupping my face in his palm, the sweetest of looks on his face.

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