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wordsbyrian · 1 year

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Royal Navy - Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Royal Navy!R was childhood friends with Less and things ended sort of poorly between them, they meet again. years later.

A/N: Alright so I don't know a lot about the Royal Navy but I do know a lot about the US Navy so everything in here is a combination of research and filling in the blanks with American military knowledge.

Sometimes, life doesn’t give you everything you want.

Correction, most of the time life doesn’t give you anything you want. This explains the conversation that you’re currently having while sitting in your girlfriend’s room.

“I just don’t know why you would want to volunteer to join the army,” she says, flopping back onto her bed.

“I’m joining the Navy, Less,” you tell her for what must be the one-thousandth time. “Besides, there's not anything for you to understand. I don’t understand why you're going to school in America but I’m not trying to stop you.”

“I’m going to play football and learn,” Alessia says, “Not signing up to get myself killed.”

“Yea, well, we all can’t be the next Kelly Smith, can we?”

“Don’t get smart with me Y/N, I don’t want to argue with you,” she says, finally sitting up to look at you.

“But you do, because if you didn’t we’d be making out not having this conversation the day before I leave for Dartmouth,” you respond, getting up from your seat at her desk, “I won’t be able to use my mobile so often I’ll write you but don’t bother answering if you’re gonna keep at it like this.”

With that, you walk out of Alessia’s room and as a result her life.

You do hear her calling after you but you know she hasn’t changed her mind so you don’t bother turning around.

That was over 5 years ago and while you did keep your promise of writing and calling her; after your first three letters received no response, you gave up.

That doesn’t mean that you stopped cheering her on, you’ve seen all her major moments, no matter how far away you were.

Over the summer, you along with practically every other sailor on your ship watched as she along with the rest of the Lionesses conquered Europe.

And now, you’re standing on the touchline at Kingsmeadow in your dress uniform for some surprise your sister planned with Chelsea.

But if you had known they scheduled it for the weekend the Blues welcome United, you probably would’ve waited a little longer to take some leave time.

Anything would be better than having Alessia attempt to burn holes in you with only her eyes as you carry the ball out for the coin toss.

You can’t tell if she recognizes you with your hair cut so short and your body so stiff but when you hear the PA ask everyone to turn their attention to you, you know that she’ll figure it out soon if she hasn’t already.

“Everyone please join us in a round of applause,” the voice says over the speakers, “as we welcome back former Chelsea youth player, Lieutenant Commander in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, Y/N Y/L/N. Thank you for your service.”

You allow yourself to smile slightly as Emma Hayes hands you a Chelsea shirt with your name on it before a stadium hand comes to lead you to your seat.

The match is good and you enjoy it as much as you can with strangers coming up to you every two minutes.

When it ends, 2-1 Chelsea, you make your back pitchside having agreed to speak with the players in the small window of time Hayes and Skinner have managed to get them to give up.

When you're led to a back room you’re shocked to see both teams there intermingled but you quickly remember that women's football has always been much more cordial than the men’s game.

After another quick introduction from the assistant who led you there, you stand alone in front of the two teams.

“Hello,” you say, standing pretty stiffly with your hands clutching your cover behind your back. “I’m not going to introduce myself again but now seems like a good time to mention that since my dad is from Newburn, I’m a Newcastle fan.”

That gets a few scattered laughs that help to break some of the tension and ease your nerves.

“I’m supposed to be talking to you about leadership, team building, and morale but I watched the game and I can definitely say that neither team needs to hear from someone whose idea of team building is sticking people in the middle of the ocean for months at a time and seeing who can get passed their problems long enough to survive,” you say plainly, not bothering to hide your disinterest for the situation. “So I figured you can just ask me questions until they let us leave.”

Murmurs of agreement go through the group so you press on, alternating between teams to ensure you’re being fair.

Most of the questions are the normal ones you get when people find out you're in the Navy. So you explain what it means to be both a Lieutenant Commander and a Surface Warfare Officer.

There are a couple of shocked faces when you tell them that you’re trained to operate all the heavy artillery on the ships and a couple of faces that fill you with more than a bit of concern because of how glee-filled they are.

When you tell them that you joined the Navy because of family tradition you can see Alessia roll her eyes and whisper something to Toone but you divert your attention to Millie Bright, who you recognize from the time you spent training with the full team.

And based on her question it seems like she recognizes you too.

“You made some appearances with the full team, why’d you choose the Navy over football,” she asks.

Laughing a little you answer her, “I played 30 minutes in the Conti Cup and was in Hayes’ office the next day quitting. That was literally the worst half hour of my life and I almost drowned in the sinking ship exercise.”

It’s then that you notice Alessia put her hand up to ask a question and considering you want nothing more than to not have to interact with her, you ignore it getting through a few others before you notice Ella with her hand up as well.

So you make the mistake of calling on her.

“Are you ever going to let Less ask a question,” she says with an unbelievable amount of sass.

“I suppose I have to now,” you say, “Crack on, Russo.”

Alessia doesn’t take this well because she glares at you and asks in the coldest voice you’ve ever heard from her, “How’s your sister?”

Never one to be outdone when it comes to being petty you respond in kind.

“She’s fine. Your family?”

It's your words that seem to spark a realization in some of the players’ faces that the two of you know each other but before any of them have a chance to say anything the same assistant from earlier comes to tell you that you’ve completed your time agreement.

For your part, you can’t get out of the building fast enough, barely stopping by the manager's office to tell Emma bye.

Getting to your car, you rush home probably breaking a few minor traffic laws in your haste.

When you do get home, you rush past your sister, Sarah, and her husband straight to your room, where you make quick work of changing into comfy clothes so that you can hide away for the foreseeable future.

You manage to go a full two days before your sister gets sick of your bullshit and barges in opening the blinds to let light into your cave of despair.

“Alright, it’s time to get up,” she says, pulling the blankets from on top of your head.

“Fuck off,” you say, turning away from her.

“I won’t," she replies, "You’ve been locked away in here, not eating, for days. All because you had to see the girl who broke your heart at 17. Grow up.”

Rolling back over you glare at her harshly but she continues speaking before you get the chance to tell her to go away again.

“Don’t make that face at me, it won’t work,” Sarah says, plainly, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take a shower and then when you’re done, you’ll come eat lunch before going to walk Magpie.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument and if we’re being honest, you’ve always been appropriately cautious of pissing her off. She did practically raise you after all.

So you did what she asked.

You showered, you ate with her and her goofball husband, and now you're sitting at the park with her idiot dog that is named after a bird.

“Oi, Magpie,” you call out, getting the dog’s attention, “Stop trying to eat that rock you berk, it’s bigger than you are.”

Somewhere to your left, you hear a familiar burst of laughter that has you panicking more than a little bit.

You do your best to ignore it, hoping that she would choose any of the other benches to go sit on. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for you as Alessia takes a seat right next to you, her dad’s dog coming to rest at her feet.

“Hey,” you say to her, not wanting to be rude before you turn your attention to the dog, “Sup Rocco, getting up there in age, aren’t you old boy?”

Alessia laughs again and you feel your heart skip a beat and a fluttering feeling begins in your stomach.

The two of you sit in relative silence for a while, the only words spoken are from you, usually a shout at your sister’s idiot dog.

You get so used to the silence that you almost miss it when she starts speaking.

“I owe you an apology for the way I treated you at the game,” Alessia begins, “It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that, especially in front of so many people. -So, I’m sorry I did that.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting her to say but it definitely wasn’t that, so it takes you a moment before you respond.

“I can’t accept your apology,” you tell her after you finish processing. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her shocked reaction so you continue before she can spiral too far. “Mostly because I was definitely a bigger dick than you were that day. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted that way, not in front of your team.”

You can see a small smile tug at her lips and you grin at her in response.

“We were both pretty big idiots, huh,” she says.

“Proper bellends,” you respond, “You’d think we would’ve done some growing up I guess not.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you let it stay for a few moments before you speak again.

“I think if we had been better at communicating, we probably would’ve been back on speaking terms at least four years ago,” you tell her seriously albeit with a joking tone.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Back on speaking terms,” Alessia clarifies.

“Obviously,” you say, “I don’t watch Magpie try to eat all the inedible things in sight with just anybody.”

The smile that had been threatening to break out on Alessia’s face is out in full force now and you can feel the fluttery sensation in your gut get stronger.

With that seemingly settled, the two of you fall into a pattern of conversation that is both familiar yet different.

In the past, most of your conversations centered around school, football, and making weekend plans. Now, it’s more of a catch up session but the vibes are the same.

It's perfect.

You don’t know how long you sit there but you’re eventually interrupted by the sound of both of your phones going off.

Your’s a call from Sarah telling you to bring her dog back and her’s a reminder from her dad about family dinner.

You stand up ready to try and catch Magpie and go when Alessia stops you.

“Y/N,” she begins, “Do you know where you’ll be stationed once your vacation ends?”

“Headed back to Dartmouth for five months to train the next batch of SWOs,” you tell her, “Then probably gonna be on shore duty for a while so might end up in command of a URNU. Depends.”

“On what?”

“Lots of things but mostly where the open postings are,” you explain.

“Two more questions but one relies on your answer to the other.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you be able to make and receive phone calls while at Dartmouth this time around,” she asks with a slight blush.

“I’ll be in charge so I can do what I want.”

“So would you be opposed to giving me your number so I can call you?”

Unable to resist teasing her a little bit, you let a coy grin spread across your face.

“Alessia Russo, are you trying to get back in my pants,” you ask her.

You watch as the blush on her deepens and she begins to sputter trying to defend herself.

You laugh a little and continue, “I mean it’s fine if you are but I’d prefer to know so that I don’t fuck it up like I did last time.”

“Y/N/N,” she says, still blushing and stuttering.

“My number is the same,” you say, taking pity on her, “so you better call me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am but now I’m an asshole that you’ve got to call.”

“It’d take the entire Royal Navy to stop me.”

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #muwfc x reader #muwfc imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader

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notyetneedcoffee · 2 years

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Kicking Up Dust - Part 7

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None in this chapter - just a protective Bucky. More sexy times to follow!

A/N: Takes place after ‘Falcon and the Winter Soldier’ with one major exception - Steve Rogers is not dead. He stepped down. This is in line with my Crossroads story. There will also be a parallel Steve story coming.

Part 6 or Master List

You rolled over to the morning sun in your eyes and an empty bed. Craning your neck to see the 7:12 on the bedside clock, you felt the twinge of muscles that had not been so thoroughly worked over in a while. Bucky woke you in the middle of night, his mouth upon your skin and left you sweating and devoid of bone. He’d been wrapped tightly to your back, holding you spooned against him, when you’d fallen back to sleep.

Curiosity urged you out of bed. Donning a bathrobe, you padded downstairs. Fresh coffee waited in the pot. You poured yourself a cup before exploring the house for him. The rooms were silent and the back door was still locked. Eventually, you peeked out the front window and found him sitting on the porch writing in a journal.

Bucky’s head popped up when you opened the door.

“Am I interrupting?” You asked.

He set the journal and pen aside before extended a hand to you. Taking it, he gently pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you. “I couldn’t sleep any longer and didn’t want to wake you.” His hand slid beneath the robe to rest on your bare thigh. “I can’t seem to keep from touching you.”

You ran your fingers through the hair that stuck up at the back of his head. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Bucky pressed kissed to your neck.

“I didn’t know you journalled, too.”

“Mm-hmm.” He sighed. “It helped me put all the fragments of my memory in the right places. Now, it’s become habit.”

“Something you and your sister have in common.” You sipped at your coffee.

“Yeah. I’m realize how lucky I am that she wrote so much down.” He gently took the coffee from your hand and sipped. You didn’t mind sharing. “How would you like to go into town with me today? I’d like to look up a few of the families that may have known her.”

You nodded. “Okay, sure. Any particular reason? Or is it just curiosity?”

“Something just feels off. I don’t know.” His brows pulled together. “I still find it really weird that no one ever looted – or even broke into – this place. I did a little digging before I came up. Did you know that before you bought it, no one ever even tried? It’s like someone just sat on it.”

“I brought from a trustee.”

“Hayes and Cooper Limited.”

You nodded, unsurprised that he knew.

“Were you aware that their founding partner died just four months before you bought this place?” When you frowned, he continued. “I think he was sitting on it for some reason. I’d like to see if there’s anyone still at the firm that knows anything, or maybe has files.”

“Alright.” You smiled into your coffee mug. “I’m going to need a shower first.”

Bucky suppressed a smile. “Me too.”

. . .

He just sat on the edge of the tub watching you comb out your wet hair. His eyes followed the movement of your arm, watched the flexing of the muscles in your back. A sly smile lit his face at the faint red marks his fingers left on your hips.

“What?” You asked.

“Just thinking.” He grinned.

“About?”

“Turns of events.” Bucky stood and kissed your shoulder. “Thought this trip would horrible. Figured it would just rip open a bunch of shit and I am pretty much done having wounds ripped open.” His nose skimmed along your neck to your ear. “Instead, I’m actually kinda happy remembering all this stuff. There’s things – pictures and stuff – I never thought I’d see again. And for some completely unknown reason, this really beautiful, really kind, woman actually lets me . . .” He nipped your ear.

“Lets you put your dick in her.” You giggled.

Bucky gauffed in surprise, laughing. “Jesus, Doll.”

You turn in his arms, smiling up at him. “Am I wrong?”

“I was going to say ‘let’s me spend time with her’.” He chuckled. “But yeah, that part is even better.”

“Smiling look damn good on you. You know that?”

He just shook his head, and you swore his cheeks flushed. “Quit your flirting, Doll, or we’re never getting out of here.”

“Don’t want that to happened,” you teased. “I’m starving and you promised to buy me breakfast.”

“Lunch.” He placed a quick kiss upon your lips. “It’s lunchtime, now.”

The two of you took your truck into town. Given the opportunity, you wanted to pick up some more groceries and packing materials. A little diner on the edge of town had several cars in the parking lot and Bucky could smell good food before he even got out of the truck.

They served breakfast all day, so you still got waffles. Bucky ordered two double bacon burgers with extra fries. He just offered a terse fake smile when the waitress asked, “you sure?”. You doctored up the too dark coffee until Bucky’s index finger lightly tapped the table. You looked up, a brow arched.

“That pizza delivery lady works here, too.” He whispered. “She favoring her left arm now.”

As you were trying to decern how Bucky knew the waitress slash pizza delivery person was favoring an arm, a local policeman wondered up to your table. Somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, life left him soft in the middle and hard in the face. Hitching his fingers in his belt just emphasized the barely contained belly.

“You the new owner of the Lewis estate?” He stood close enough to your table that you could smell the stale sweat on him, staring a Bucky.

“Hmm.” You smiled with a non-committal answer. “And you are?”

His gaze remained on Bucky. “Someone asking him a question, that’s who I am.”

Dumb ass, you thought as you watched Bucky’s whole body tense. His face showed no emotion, but every bit of the relaxed features you adored solidified. “You’re talking to the wrong person, officer” You emphasized is title.

“Am I, now?” He didn’t look away from Bucky. You could see the effort it took him to maintain the eye contact.

“Pretty sure it’s my signature on the paperwork. Is there a problem? ‘Cause my food is getting cold.”

He turned physical toward you. “Just wanting to know what connection you got to the Lewis family.”

“She bought the property. That’s it.” Bucky growled. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Not an answer.” The officer stood a little taller. “That your truck out there? Maybe I should run your plates.”

“You already have.” Bucky stood up, staring down the cop. “It told you nothin’ so you came over to throw your weight around, hoping to intimate your way to more information. Problem is, pal, you’re not intimidating and there ain’t nothing to learn here.”

“You just sit back down, son.” The officer sounded firm, but you could see his fear. “You don’t want trouble.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You huffed. “Neither do you. If you were just curious maybe try start with a pleasant ‘Hi, welcome to the neighborhood” instead of whatever this is.”

“Best not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, girl.”

“Best not call her ‘girl’.”

Bucky removed his gloves and jacket. Someone behind you whispered, “Holy shit! That’s the Winter Soldier.” The office looked down at the moving plates of the vibraium arm as Bucky’s fingers closed into a fist. The man had the sense to swallow hard and take a step back.

“Don’t go threatening me.” The cop tried to sound tough, but fear made his voice reedy.

The corner of Bucky’s lip tipped up. “I ain’t threatening anyone. We’re just having a conversation about you no longer being curious about her. Haven’t you heard?” His voice dropped to sub-artic levels. “I’m rehabilitated.”

“Yeah,” You smiled your best fake smile. “Nice to meet you, officer?”

“Whittaker.” Bucky offered. He’d heard someone say his name as they drew the attention of the whole diner. “His name’s Whittaker.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Whittaker.” You sipped your coffee. “You have a nice day.”

Bucky gave him the scariest smile you’d ever imagined. “Yeah, have a nice day.”

The cop nodded once and left. He didn’t run, but his keys jingled with the speed of his exit.

You returned to your meal, trying to project normalcy as Bucky slipped back into the booth. “Well,” you sighed. “That was interesting.”

As you looked around the diner, the others slowly began to turn their attention away from you. When Bucky rolled his head and softened his posture, they relaxed even more. His eyes locked on two men sitting at the diner counter who continued to stare. He frowned. They both got up from their half eaten meals and left. Neither paid. Hopping into an old Ford, they drove off in the same direction as the cop.

“Do you –,” a voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Do you want more coffee?”

It was the lady who delivered the pizza. Bucky’s face softened and he slid his cup closer. She poured with very little shake to her hand.

“Thank you.” He smiled, this time with charm. “Are we going to see you at the grocery store, too?”

“Huh?”

“You delivered the pizza. I was just wondering how many jobs you have around here.” Bucky grinned.

“Oh, uh.” She topped off your cup as well. “I got a few.” She just stood for a moment, chewing her lower lip.

Bucky pointed to the empty seats at the counter. “Seems like you had those guys skip out on their tab.”

“Bobby and Mic don’t pay hardly ever.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Just easier.”

You frowned, wondering what it was easier than.

“Can I get anything else?” She swallowed, nervously. “Pie? The apple is fresh.”

“A slice of apple pie would be great.” Bucky smiled.

When she walked away, you arched a curious brow. Buck gave you the slightest shake of his head. There were too many people in the diner still paying attention to you. He inhaled the final bites of his burger and you went back to eating.

Your original waitress remained on the far side of the diner as the beaten looking woman brought Bucky a piece of pie. She set it and fresh fork in a paper napkin on the table and quickly retreated. He took up the fork and ate the pie in five large bites.

Pulling out his wallet, he lifted a finger to ask for the bill. “Let’s go.” He muttered.

When your original waitress came over with the ticket, Bucky stood skillfully hideing their transaction from others. He handed her a hundred dollar bill. “Go ahead and keep the change.” Her mouth fell open. He pulled out another hundred. “This is for the other gal. Those jerks stiffed her of a tip.” She looked up with eyes full of surprise. Bucky gently closed her fingers around the money. “There’s no way either of you get paid enough to do this job. Take it, please. Best not to tell anyone else.”

“Wow,” She chuckled. “Thanks.”

Once in the privacy of your truck, you sat back with a sigh. “What the hell was that all about?”

Bucky pulled a paper napkin from his front pocket. “According to our waitress, good old Whittaker is ‘connected’. She passed me a note that says, ‘watch your back, he’s got connections’.” He frowned and shook his head. “I doubt either of them have any idea what real connections are.”

“Think it’s got anything to do with his interest in the Lewis family connection?” You started up the truck.

“I think we should go talk to those trustees and then I’m going to make a couple calls when we get back to the house.” Bucky reached over and rested his left hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, Doll. We’ll get this figured out.”

A/N:

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

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A little bit of hope 3 (finale)

F Reader x Billy Russo | past reader x Santi

Status: complete!

Fic info / all chapters

ft TF guys & an appearance from Back to Start characters (w/o spoilers) and an ofc (good friend of readers)

Words: 4,562

Warnings: nothing major, a confrontation that gets stopped, Santi is drunk, messy & in a mood , a super blink and you miss it mention of sex but no scene shown.

An: Here it is, the end. Unless I do some surprise drabbles, like flash forwards later.

An 2: I do have two guest appearances in this chapter. One is Billie (not to be confused with Billy Russo) a character from my Dad!Frankie fic, Back to Start. The other is an ofc who works with reader, and is her friend, her name is Catalina. I make brief mention of readers bestie, but don't name them.

It is reader's bday week, so I have left this dateless, and in the mood board at the end of the chapter, there is no picture/ outfit for reader. I left that up to you to imagine what you would have worn and all that. The woman in the red dress is Catalina, and the woman in the silver dress, if you have not read Back to Start yet, is Billie Hayes.

Pre-Birthday Weekend

Sitting outside on the balcony, you take in the view of the beach below. You feel content and calm, grateful for all the good things in your life. Humming the song that's stuck in your head, you continue gazing at the beach.

It’s been a while since you felt so at ease, things with Billy Russo are going very well, and each date you have deepens your growing feelings for him.

Santiago has continued reaching out to you, but you don’t engage. You decided to focus on you and what makes you happy, and Santi, though he remains in your heart, does not make you happy.

Even at work, everything is going the best it has in a long time. A week ago, you completed a huge job with success. Having reached this new milestone in your career, you feel excited for the future in every way.

It’s been about 3 weeks since Santi showed up at your favorite cafe and ruined your day. Three weeks since Will picked you up and helped you through your panic attack. You couldn’t believe in 21 days how different everything felt. The heavy cloud hanging over your shoulders at that time is gone, much to your relief.

You pull up a video from last night on your phone. One of the surprises this weekend was a concert. One of your favorite groups of all time played a show for the first time in years, and the girls all chipped in for tickets. You watch the videos and relive the memory with joy.

Over the last year at work, you formed a close friendship with one of your coworkers, Catalina. She worked in the department next to yours, and after having lunch together once, you quickly formed a bond. Now she’s one of your good friends. Catalina found this place and even got a deep discount via her connections; the rooms, the meals, everything's top-notch. This is easily one of the best birthdays you’ve ever had.

You look down at the beach again and can see your best friend, Catalina, and Billie by the water. One of the other surprises this weekend was Billie showing up. Over the last 4 years, as your relationship with Santiago took many forms, you grew close to the guys and some of the people in their lives. Including Billie Hayes.

Billie's like a mama bear for the whole group and the mother of Frankies children. At first, you and Billie weren’t close, but over the last two years, you’ve gotten to know her better. As a mother of two and a professor, she's a busy lady and didn’t often make it to general social outings. So, it was a nice to see her here, and it rounded out your already lovely friend group.

Scrolling further back in your photos, you move your finger too fast and end up on a picture from 2 years ago. It's a photo of you, the Millers, and Santiago. His arm draped around you as he smiled.

You can still remember that day. One of your favorite things to do with Santi was a movie in the park. The tradition soon included the Millers over the years and one time, Frankie and Billie made it too. You can still remember that night in great detail.

Zooming in, you study your expression and the wide smile on your face, you even notice how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You weren’t feeling so great that day. Though you were excited to see Santi, you needed to vent your frustrations and were dreading bringing it up once you two were alone.

Releasing a sigh, you zoom out of the photo and look at Will and Benny. Seeing them always brings a smile to your face. You gained a bigger family when you met Santi, including three brothers you didn’t plan for, Will, Benny, and Frankie.

Will picking you up during your panic attack was just one of the many sweet things the guys have done for you. Will was your rock, and deep down inside, you knew he had feelings for you. He wasn’t in love with you, you knew that, but he has a crush, he has for a while. Benny even made a casual mention of it one night when the two of you were hanging out.

You tried not to think about it and set the thought aside because you didn’t feel the same. You didn’t see Will that way and didn’t have the heart to confront that truth. Over the years, you tried to play matchmaker in your head, hoping you could find the perfect girl for him. You wanted to see Will happy, but no one you knew seemed like the right fit.

Then it comes to you. Catalina. You remember a moment last night when all of you went dancing after the concert and she expressed her frustration with the dating apps. Catalina is smart, independent, career-focused, and grounded with a fun spirit. She’s also gorgeous and could be deadly serious and all business when needed. Catalina would be perfect for Will.

With a smile, you take a peek over the balcony and scan the beach for your friends. You don’t see them. Only a second later, a knock comes at your door. You open it and let them, it’s Billie and Catalina.

“Everyone else is getting ready, want to head out soon for lunch?” Catalina asked.

“I would love that,” you stand beside her and watch as Billie smiles at her phone, “seems like you've seen something cute.”

“Frankie just took this. Painting party with the kids,” she holds up the phone and shows you both the picture. Frankie is smiling, holding Kian as Skye popped into the picture. Kian's hands are covered in paint, matching the colorful handprints on Frankie's face and shirt.

“Aww,” you coo as you look at the picture, “They look so happy.”

“Yeah, they love daddy time. I just hope he cleans that paint off the floor before I get back.” Billie grins and puts her phone away. “Okay ladies, see you in the lobby in an hour?” She heads for the door.

You and Catalina vocalize a yes and watch her leave. As Catalina heads out, you stop her and ask her to stay a few minutes.

“So, did you delete the dating apps?”

“Yeah, this morning. I’m so done with boys and games. I wish I could just walk outside and meet my guy already. I’m sick of wasting my time.” Catalina leans against the desk. "What's that silly smile about? That is your up-to-something face."

“I may have someone for you.” you replied.

Sunday night

Back from your trip, you spent a few hours at home before Benny showed up at your door and took you hostage for the night. Frankie’s back home with his family, so it's just you, Benny and Will. Benny and Will surprise you with dinner and a movie in the park for your birthday. It’s a sweet gift, though you’re feeling a little tired and have work in the morning.

As the end credits of the movie roll, you turn to the brothers on the blanket next to you.

“I have something I want to talk about, we are missing Frankie, but I’m just gonna say it anyway. I've been seeing someone and really, I’m happy.” You pause. Your words are met with supportive smiles from both of them. “You guys are important to me, so I want you to meet him."

“That's great,” Benny pulls you into a hug, “you have been smiling a lot more lately.”

You grin and lean against Benny. When your eyes meet Wills, you can tell he’s happy for you while going through whatever process he needs to go through.

“Congratulations.” Will replied warmly. "You deserve this."

“I’ve mentioned you guys enough he’s curious too. I’m thinking - Wednesday night? I’m so nervous and just want to get this done before I leave Friday. And of course, please, for the love of god, do not tell Santi about this. I know he's family, I just do not want drama.”

You and the guys continue to talk. They both give you their word they will not tell Santiago about this meetup. You still knew there’s a chance he could find out, it is Santi after all, but you needed to say it.

Part of you feels terrified, you knew the guys weren't going to be easy on your new boyfriend. You are family to them, and they will protect you as such. Your girls gave Billy a good grilling too, especially Catalina, but he charmed them, as expected. After seeing you go through all this shit with Santi, your girls just wanted to make sure Billy deserved you, and you appreciate that.

You also feel nervous about calling Frankie tomorrow and catching him up on all this. You knew Frankie would likely tell you this is a bad idea. No one knew Santi as thoroughly as Frankie, you could hear it now, in Frankie's voice: you know he's gonna find out.

Later that night, Benny heads home and you ask Will to stick around a little longer. You tell him about Catalina and encourage him to go on a date and give it a chance.

You and Will have a heart-to-heart that night and talk about the things you both kept inside. By the end of it, you still have one of your best friends, and hope that you’ve just successfully connected him to his person.

Wednesday Night

All day you could barely keep your food down and had nervous jitters. The clock ticked by so slowly and you started to regret your decision to have them all meet. What if it goes bad? What if it backfires? What if they scare Billy away and he cancels our upcoming romantic getaway?

Your thoughts end up in a tight knot by the end of the day, your stomach is hard as a rock. You try to breathe through it and go along with the plan. It’s too late now anyway. Everyone would start showing up at the destination at 7 and you needed to get it together.

You try to remind yourself that Billy wants to meet them too. And it wasn’t like you were forcing this on him. You also hoped that Santiago wouldn’t show up. You knew the guys kept their word and didn’t tell him, you also picked a bar none of you have gone to for a reason.

Later in the night

As the drinks flow, you sit back and enjoy the moment. It was dicey at first, real dicey. It felt like an interrogation, and you weren’t sure which way all this was going to go.

You liked having this protective group of brothers, but as they worked on Billy, not so much. Still, Billy held his own with ease, with that smooth chill suaveness you love about him so much.

He took jabs and gave them right back; his confidence and chill vibe helped a ton and the tension shifted quicker than expected. Faster than you could predict, the guys mostly warmed up to him.

You figured they all had a lot to talk about, and they had similar backgrounds in a few ways. Now, on the second round of drinks, most of the tension is gone, and a healthy amount of let's keep an eye on this guy remains.

Taking a sip of water, you glance at Billy in the seat next to you. He has one arm draped over your shoulders as he talks to guys and answers their questions. Your eyes jump to Will as he responds to a text on his phone, you hope it’s Catalina. They had their first date yesterday, and you got the dirt today at work. By her account, everything was a little weird at first, but once Will let himself relax, they had a good time and actually flowed with each other.

She was interested in seeing him again. When you asked Will about it earlier in the day, he seemed surprised the date went well, and you know he wants to see her again too. You feel happy for him and excited he even opened up enough to let himself enjoy the date. From the little smile that flashes on Will's lips, you assume it's her and shift your focus back to Billy.

“Just because we're laughing, does not mean you’re not off the hook yet,” Benny points at Billy while raising his beer with his other hand. Your eyes dart to Frankie who nods, arms crossed. He warmed up a little to Billy but was watching him with a close eye, same as Will. However, Will is friendlier. “We’re watching you, man.”

Frankie gestures with his fingers, from his eyes to Billy's.

“I get it, “Billy smiles at them, then brings his eyes to yours, a soft look in his eyes. Even though you’re at a table with four other people, whenever Billy looks at you, it feels like you're the only one in the room, “you’re all protective of her, looking out for her. If I was in your shoes, I’d do the same. Know, I’m crazy about her. I only have her best interests in mind.”

You feel your cheeks warm and inch forward to kiss Billy before you realize it. When the guys comment across the way, you feel shy and bury your head in Billy's neck. He rubs your back.

“When the wedding?” Benny jokes.

“Oh god, “you sit up and gently kick Benny under the table.

Your smile fades as you catch a glimpse of the door straight ahead. You do a double take, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if you are actually seeing Santiago.

Billy quickly notices, he rubs your shoulder, “Hey, you okay?”

Will notices your mood shift and follows your line of sight. Twisting in the chair, Will sighs. His response confirms you are not hallucinating.

Frankie groans and gets up from his chair, cursing under his breath. Everything about him right now screams damage control. He intercepts Santiago before he reaches the table. Part of you feels bad, those two are attached at the hip, whenever Santi is around, and your current situation complicates things.

Even over the conversions, music, and laughter in the bar, you can vaguely pick up the guys taking in Spanish and Frankie using his “I'm fucking serious” tone. Santiago's eyes leave his friend and land on you.

You don't realize you've been holding your breath until Billy caresses the back of your neck. “That's him I assume?”

“Yeah, that's him.”

Communication was one of the things lacking between you and Santiago. It's not like that with Billy. Everything was laid out on the table. Billy knew about Santi and you knew about Billys past. You learned about the version of Billy you would not have dated at all. The honesty between you felt so good and helped you realize just how much shit was off about you and Santiago.

You continue to watch Frankie and Santiago. Santi raises his hands slightly like he’s trying to convince Frankie he’s not going to do anything. Your eyes land on Will and Benny whose backs are now toward you, as they watch closely.

Will turns and looks you in the eye, "we'll take care of this." You nod as he breaks eye contact and leaves the table, his brother with him.

For a moment, it seems like your nightmare is soon to be over as Santiago glances at you one more time and turns around to leave. You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to stop your oncoming headache.

“We can go, if you want?” Billy offers. When you glance at him, he’s staring straight ahead. You feel something you haven't felt in his presence before, simmering anger.

“Hey,” you say softly and squeeze Billy’s hand. He looks at you, “don’t worry about him. Let's finish up here and go. I’m getting pretty tired anyway and that huge, nice ass bed of yours sounds really good right now."

“You sure?” he asks softly and brushes his fingers against your cheek.

You nod, yes. "And that ridiculous shower head, that water pressure is divine." You smile at him.

The sweet moment you share is interrupted by the guys returning to the table.

“Sorry guys.” You say to them.

Will adjusts in his seat and glances at the bar, like he wants, or needs, another beer.

Frankie sits, crosses his arms, and glances back over his shoulder, “I'll talk to him.”

“I’m going to call it for tonight guys,” you sit up and make eye contact with each of them, “thank you for this, it means a lot to me.”

You, Billy, and the guys start talking among yourselves when Santiago reappears, this time coming from the other direction. He stands on your side of the table.

Though you can hear the guys reacting, your eyes stay fixed angrily on Santiago. “Don't do this.” You warn, shaking your head at him.

“Don’t do what? Meet your new boyfriend? Guess my invitation got lost in the mail.” Santi’s words are directed at you, but his eyes stay fixed on Billy.

Feeling your body tense up, you rise from your seat and look Santi in the eyes. “I want you to leave.”

Santiago ignores your demand; he continues to silently provoke Billy. Just as you start to say something else, Billy places a hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you behind him.

Billy blocks you with his body and makes eye contact with Santi, “You heard her.”

Santiago grins smugly, he pulls his dark stare from Billy to you. You’ve seen this look before, but never directed at you. You expect him to say something or make a jab, he doesn’t, he goes quiet. Santi lowered his head slightly and ran his hand over his chin.

“Santi, please, just go.” You clutch Billy’s arm and peek around him at your ex. Santiago grabs the nearby chair to balance himself. At first, you couldn’t tell he was drunk, but now you see it.

“This is what you’ve been avoiding me for? Him?” Santi forces a laugh. “You know, I looked into you, and your company. Mr. big deal here.”

As Santiago takes a step toward Billy, Billy raises one of his hands to stop him. “Come on, you heard her man. I’m trying to be respectful but -”

Growing more agitated, Santi takes the step closer anyway, his chest meeting Billy’s hand, “What’s your plan for her, huh? Your intentions?”

Billy snickers, “my intentions?”

“You heard me. Or do I need to repeat myself?”

“Alright, this is done,” Will interrupts and stands in-between them. You tighten your grip on Billy’s forearm.

“Look, I just want to talk to you, okay?” Santiago ignores the men before him, his eyes finding yours, the anger in them melts to something else, to desperation, “you and me, outside. I don’t give a shit about him.”

As you hear Santiagos words, the sound of a moving chair catches your attention. Looking to your left, you notice Frankie pull himself up again. The last thing he wants to do right now is break up a fight between two grown ass men, and it's written all over his face.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave.” Billy growled.

“Was I fucking talking to you?” Santiago tears his eyes from yours and focuses on Billy again. Will physically pushes Santi away from you both, Santi pushes back to get closer.

A dark chuckle leaves Billy's lips. You can tell he’s trying to control himself. “I’m losing my patience. You better just leave. Or we’re going to have a problem.”

Will curses under his breath and tugs Santi back with one hard tug. “Come on man. Cut this shit out.”

Before Santi could say anything else, Frankie grabs him by the other arm. With Will’s assistance, they drag him away from the table, and Benny joins them.

You don't realize your hands have been curled into fists until you see them disappear through the door.

“I'm so stupid. Of course, this would happen.” You cover your face with your hands and wish everyone watching would look away.

Coming to your rescue, Billy addresses the onlookers, “What the hell are you all looking at?"

They all turn away. Billy takes your hands in his. “Don’t call yourself that. You were just trying to do something nice. I'm in your life now, meeting them makes sense.”

You lean against Billy, your head on his chest. "I just feel so upset, not just at him showing up, at this whole thing. I feel like I'm dividing the group. They've all known each other way before they knew me."

"And all those guys love you still, right, you are family. Just like your ex is. You had to face what happened and decide to move on, he'll have to do that too. They seem like solid guys, I think they can handle this, even if it sucks for a while." Billy rubs your back, " and its gonna suck for a while."

You hold him tighter. "i know...thank you."

Frankie returns first. He stands at the table and grabs his beer, then downing the rest of it in one very stressed gulp.

“Told you this was a bad idea,” he grumbles before checking the bottle to see if it was really empty. Benny returns next and mentions something about Will taking Santi home.

When you called Frankie up, and told him the plan, he did warn you. Still, you wanted to try. Frankie was convinced Santi would find a way to show up, and he was right.

Benny, trying to lighten the mood, slaps Frankie on the shoulder and then winks at you, “it was entertaining. Come on, just a little, right?"

You roll your eyes and smile, “shut up Benny.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

You grab Billy's hand, who has been watching you closely, “let's get out of here.”

Next day

The next day, your work goes relatively okay. Like a dark cloud hanging overhead, you can't shake how last night ended, at least the bar part. When you returned to Billys for the night, the two of you cuddled in bed and watching funny videos until you fell asleep. That part was sweet.

You could slap Santiago, that's how mad you are. You're also impressed with Billy and how he handled Santi coming in so hot. Plus, another part of you hurts for Santi, you could see the sadness and regret in his eyes. But anger, you feel that the most.

On your way out of the building, at the end of your workday, you find Santiago waiting for you.

“Oh no, we are not doing this.” You speed up and walk past him.

Santi catches up with you as you cross the street. “About last night - “

You whip around to face him, “yeah, last night, what the fuck was that?”

Santiago guides you to the nearby water fountain, away from the crowd walking past you. He looks tired, stressed, hungover. You're sure Will sat up with him a while, made him eat some food, and tried to console him. All while talking sense into him. Thats the kind of friend Will is.

Santiago starts to talk, then stops. When no words come out, he shrugs his shoulders.

“Wow, that's all you have to say for yourself?”

“I came back, for you,” he reaches for your hand, and you move away from him, “I came back to make this work.”

“Santiago, there is nothing to fix, nothing to make work. You and me, there’s no continuation of that story. It’s over.”

You watch as his wide eyes brew with emotion.

“It's over.” you repeat.

He shakes his head, refusing to hear it, “you don't mean that, you’re just pissed at me. You have every right to be.”

“You can't dismiss my feelings like that. I mean everything I'm saying to you, so listen to me, really listen and let it sink in. If you decide to stay, I can't be your reason. I have moved on. I am happy, Santi. I need you to respect that. "

You ignore the small urge inside of you to console him, to embrace him. You don't like seeing him hurt, but you can't fix him, it's not your job, and he's not your boyfriend. And he's hurt you too many times. You need to stand your ground and push empathy aside now.

"All of us are so deeply intertwined. We care so much about each other, so one day, you and I have to be okay, platonically. Because your best friends have become my friends too. I don’t want to lose them just because we aren't a thing. I also don't want to add stress to their lives with this messy situation. Not anymore."

You take a moment to catch your breath and calm your emotions. "They love you; they love the shit out of you, and I don't want either of us to lose the guys over our personal shit. I finally found what I wanted, and someone who happily gives it to me. It's not you. You need to be okay with that, Santiago. You need to let me live my life.”

He sits, a look of defeat on his face.

“I loved you, and you knew that. I put up with so much when it came to you. It was unfair. When you vanished this last time, for over a year, I- that shit hurt so much, it hurt more than the other times. I will always care about you in some capacity. I can't just erase you from my heart, but to be happy I can't choose you. To be happy, I choose me, and I choose Billy. Nothing is going to change my mind. And definitely not you starting fights with and background checking my boyfriend. You need to be okay with this.”

Santi stares at the ground, then at you with heavy eyes, “well, I'm not okay with it.”

You shrug,” then I have nothing else to say.” You walk away, leaving Santi alone on the bench.

Saturday afternoon

Sitting up on the bed, you watch Billy come over with a tray full of fruit and birthday cake.

"That looks delicious." You wait for him to sit before peaking at the goods. Billy places it between your bodies and brings a strawberry to your lips. You eat it. He feeds you another one.

“These are the best chocolate-dipped strawberries I've ever had in my life.” You hum and close your eyes.

Billy laughs, “they better be, cost a fortune, “he feeds you another one.

As you chew, your eyes drift to the window. The view from this luxury hotel is breathtaking. You feel like a princess in a movie. Billy was spoiling the shit out of you, and you love it, you soak it up.

You watch Billy cut a slice of cake. When strands of hair fall to his face, you gently smooth them back and caress his cheek. You could stare at him all day, he’s so handsome. Billy brings a slice to your lips and smiles when you take a bite.

“Happy birthday baby,” his voice washes over you, your heart grows two sizes. When you imagined your birthday this year, you didn't imagine this. Your second getaway in two weeks, your body still buzzing with post orgasm euphoria. Your perfect boyfriend.

Earlier, when you blew out the candle, you didn’t even make a wish because you have everything you could want right now. You just hope you can keep it for a very long time.

“This is the best birthday ever.” You lean in and kiss him as he plays with the belt of your robe.

“We should take these,'' Billy whispers against your lips in between kisses.

You had no idea what kind of high-count cotton this robe is made of, but it's the most comfortable and softest thing you’ve ever worn in your life. Since putting them on, you and Billy haven't taken them off.

Billy sets the plate aside on the nearby table, then draws you close to him by grabbing your hips.

“What do you want to do today?” He kisses your chin, your neck, your collar bone.

“Honestly, “you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips against your skin, “if we just stayed in bed all day, I would be perfectly happy. With last weekend and everything that happened this week, I just want to be lazy and lie around with you, in this very expensive room.”

“As you wish.” Billy pulls you back into the bed and rests his head against the pillow, you adjust in his arms to lay on his chest. Taking a deep breath, you relax against Billy and close your eyes.

You can still taste the delicious cake on your tongue. Billy caresses the side of your arm as you listen to his breathing.

This is perfect.

There’s so much you like about Billy. He showed you what is possible in a relationship, even though everything is so fresh. Billy leaves you with no doubts, no fears.

Even with his busy career, he always makes time for you, and when you’re together, you feel like the only thing he sees. With Billy, you never feel confused or alone, as you did with Santi.

Though your relationship is so fresh, so new, you have high hopes. You hope this doesn’t fizzle out and you’re thankful for Billy's journey as you get to be with this version of him, a healed, matured version. A version that can give you all the things you ever wanted.

For the first time in a long time, you feel lucky. You feel like cupid got it right and put you on that blind date so you can meet Billy. You feel thankful for that meeting you didn’t want to take, putting you right in his office. For the first time, instead of swooning over someone else's love story, you’re head over heels for your own.

As for Santiago, you didn’t know what the future would bring, or if you could even be friends one day. Santiago has work to do, on his own, and you have to separate yourself from that. You allow yourself to keep healing that heartbreak while being present with Billy.

Opening your eyes, you focus on Billy and hold him tighter. You breathe into your present, the now, and cherish every second of it.

💕….(fin)….💕

Thanks for reading! Reblogs greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @princessxkenobi @peoniarose @nicklet94 @corrabell @kailan-sunshine @soft-persephone

#santi triple frontier #Santiago pope Garcia #Ex santi #Billy Russo #santi x f reader #Billy Russo x f reader #fic crossover #fic: a little bit of hope

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rawiswhore · 9 months

Text

Steve Regal x Fem Reader- "Red Negligee"

"Three's Company" was the highest rated show on television in the late 1970's.

It was a sitcom notorious for featuring women walking around wearing short little negligees and nighties as well as sometimes wearing these lingerie teddy rompers and other skimpy outfits.

Despite that 1980 was the beginning of a new decade, "Three's Company" was still on the air even though Suzanne Somers had left the show and the sitcom was still fresh in our minds, not to mention still featured women bouncing around in short nighties and negligees.

Because of the show's popularity as well as teddies (not bears) and babydoll nighties being popular lingerie at the time, in 1980 you invited wrestler Steve Regal to a hotel room.

This isn't the same "Real Man's Man" Steve Regal during the Attitude era who would later on be William Regal, this Steve Regal was American with long blond hair.

As Steve lounged in the hotel room's bed, he had his long blond hair hanging down.

While Steve Regal laid on his back on top of one of the beds in the room, you slowly sauntered further into the hotel room dressed in a short feminine nighty/negligee where the bottom of it reached your upper thighs.

You couldn't decide if you wanted to wear a short nighty/negligee or a teddy/romper that was a mixture of a spaghetti strapped chemise with short shorts attached to it, or even wearing a spaghetti strapped camisole with matching short shorts that weren't attached to the top.

Steve's mouth spread and formed into smile as he watched you slowly stroll further into the hotel room dressed in that babydoll negligee.

You had a grin on your face as you slowly walked into the room to show off your negligee.

"I couldn't decide what to wear" you brought up to him. "A teddy or a negligee"

To quote the movie "Road to El Dorado": "both is good!".

Or even better...if you shed your negligee off to reveal that you're wearing a teddy, and you don't mean teddy as in bear. (come to think of it, this would be a good idea for a fanfiction!)

"And I mean teddy as in one of those teddy rompers" you explained "with short shorts attached to the chemise"

He knows what you're referring to.

With a grin on your face, you slowly crawled on top of the bed Steve was laying on, where you slowly crawled closer to him.

"As a valet, I'd love to shed my dress off to reveal a short negligee to your opponent" you told him when you laid right next to him. "Or I'd shed my dress off to reveal a teddy underneath as a distraction"

You could wear a negligee or teddy romper to the sexiest male wrestlers like Michael P.S. Hayes in the early 1980's (who I almost wrote this fanfiction about), Paul Orndorff/Mr. Wonderful and eventually wrestlers like Tommy Rogers from the Fantastics, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Terry Taylor, Marty Jannetty and even the British Bulldogs Davey Boy Smith and the Dynamite Kid.

Steve enjoyed hearing those ideas for sure, but professional wrestling was mostly family entertainment during the majority of the 20th Century.

"Or even better" you added excitedly with a smile on your face. "Walking to the ring wearing a short little negligee or a teddy romper, like what those women on 'Three's Company' wear!"

Underwear as outerwear.

"I hope I wouldn't be arrested for wearing underwear on in public!" you said, which made Steve chuckle. "Some teddies look like outfits people could wear in public, like spaghetti strapped camisoles with short shorts not attached"

Really, there are worse things than you being in a wrestling arena wearing a babydoll nighty or a teddy romper and you even said that to him.

Not to mention, there was the sexual revolution of the 1960's and 1970's, where people supported birth control, abortion, sex before marriage, pornography and even public nudity and sex in public places.

Professional wrestling has always been a reflection of the times, just look at the Attitude era reflecting the late 1990's and even early 2000's, the Ruthless Aggression era having the 2000's written all over it, and Women's Extreme Wrestling hypersexualizing the women during the 2000's as well as filled with edgelord commentary objectifying the women and saying things that were rather racist.

You actually thought of having a "Three's Company" related wrestling gimmick when the show was on the air, but cartoonish sports entertainment wrestling really didn't start taking off until the 1980's, when the World Wrestling Federation blew up in popularity.

Your "Three's Company" gimmick you brainstormed could involve you being like Chrissy Snow, wearing pigtails or a ponytail while the rest of your hair hangs down and you bounce around in babydoll negligees, teddies and even sometimes wearing nothing but a towel, as well as wearing strapless rompers and denim short shorts and a top with no bra underneath and your breasts jiggle under your top.

Another idea could have 2 female wrestling valets who have a male wrestler they lead to the ring.

The possibilities are endless.

Rowdy Roddy Piper was a rising wrestling star in the late 1970's and early 1980's who resembled John Ritter, "Three's Company"'s star.

#steve regal #1980 #80s #negligee #birthday #happy birthday

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can-of-pringles · 1 year

Note

Hey!! Here to talk about fanfic with you!

Is there a fandom or character that you want to write for but haven't yet? Why is that?

Is there a fanfic that you would rewrite or look at again if you had the chance? (Personally I think your writing is fantastic but I know we as authors are our own worst enemies, and I'm curious to see your side of it)

What's your favorite part about Similarities so far? Of King and Lionheart? Of your Ariel fics?

What's one line from any of your fics that you're especially proud of? And why do you like it? (Particularly artful, really captures a character, great humor, etc.)

What's your favorite trait to give a character trait? Physical or personality. What's a trait in yourself that you often see in your characters (past neurodivergence and queerness, I mean individual personality traits like confidence or sarcastic humor)

Your writing is amazing bestie!! So excited to see what you do with Eliŝka!

Hi! Thank you!

Fandom wise, I'm not sure. I haven't consumed any new media recently except Vol 3. So I guess MCU? (If you don't count my Wandavision and X-Men crossover fic)

As for character, I haven't written anything for my newest OC, Eliška Hasek, and I'm itching to get started on that. Oh, also another OC, Tessa Hayes (Lee Quinn's birth mother) there are things in place I should do first before I start on these projects.

Probably majority of my fics from 2019 or 2020. And the first Kaia fics probably need a revamp.

For Similarities, I enjoy being able to write about Henry and El in a more domestic setting since escaping the lab and writing about their bond growing. Though funny enough I am looking forward to writing more of the future plot and angst with Beatrice.

King and Lionheart, I feel like it's still in its early stages but despite that has shown a lot of potential or progress if that makes sense? I also enjoy writing about Dream having to interact with a character so different than him (Lee) and having them learn to get along and their dynamic.

The Ariel ship! Ok, where do I start? I guess honestly it's a little fun to drag out the fics and have my readers waiting excitedly for when the big confession happens. I'm sorry I like to torture my audience 😈 but also Arith and Iriel banter is so fun and rewarding to write. I feel like they've come a long way. And you know what I still plan on writing stuff for them even after y'know 💀 because people read essentially prequel stuff all the time.

One line from any fic.... oh this is tough. Why do I feel like all my best stuff isn't published yet lol.

Ok so more than a single line (oops) but from King and Lionheart.

“I understand your warnings, but I would like to go with you, anyway.” She looked up at him with a determined glint in her eyes.

I think it just sums up Lee's character so well. She's bold, stubborn, and dedicated.

Favorite trait to give a character? Physically wise I think I either have to say freckles or piercings. Personality wise... I guess unique? Now hold on let me explain, I don't like to write about characters who fit a mold or something like that. That's boring. There has to be a little bit of going against the norm. Not fitting in but rather standing out as an individual.

I really hope that wasn't confusing or too much of a basic answer.

As for the last question, I think I tend to have a dry sense of humor and I like writing characters with a similar sense of humor.

Thank you very much!

#pringle answers #answered asks #practically an xman #about pringles

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crab-instruments · 2 years

Text

Of Rats and Men Part 9

Master <Part 8 Part 10>

Pairing: Silco x Female Reader

Rating/Warning: teen, violence, major character death, angst, killing

Summary: You are a traveling medic, journeying between Piltover and Zaun. One night, you stumble upon a man and take him in. His presence causes havoc on your practice. Set between Act I & Act II.

Beta Reader: @unfocusedfish

For: @imalovernotahater

a/n: If you're still with me, I love you.

Some music for your consideration:

Gunslinger - Avenged Sevenfold

Iron - Woodkid

Survivor (Cover) - 2WEI feat. Edda Hayes

When you opened your eyes, you were stricken with fear. Questions flooded your mind.

Fuck! How long was I out? How much time had past? Do they know Silco isn’t dead, that I faked it? Where the fuck am I?

Your head hurt from the blow and the cold concrete you woke up on did nothing to alleviate any pain. Rubbing your face in your hands, you forced yourself to calm down. You still had a mission. Once your breathing was something close to normal, you took stock of your situation.

For now, it’s better to assume they think Silco is dead. Even if he woke up, it would take awhile before he was coherent again. Not knowing where you were likely meant Topaz had taken you. Being captured wasn’t great, but you weren’t bound. This was to just rough you up, force you to need Topaz. But you don’t need Topaz, you need to—

The thought of the drugs you had prepared caused you to flinch, panicking again. Your bag was gone. This would make things more difficult, but you had prepared for something like this. You checked your boot, you still had a syringe full of potassium chloride and a surgical knife wrapped around your ankle. You armed yourself with the knife, tucking the syringe back in safely. That was a surprise to be delivered to Topaz personally.

Finding your bag took top priority. There’s no way Jinx didn’t go down without a fight and she would require medical attention. You’d need to get her back to The Last Drop somehow without being seen. There was no way you could go back after betraying Silco, even if it was to save Jinx. You didn’t entertain the idea, not giving yourself false hope. He would think you abandoned him in his time of need, that all the moments you shared before, the possibility of a future, were all fake. The agony and grief left a hole in your chest, leaving you hollow. Could he ever forgive you? It didn’t matter, you didn’t imagine yourself getting out of here alive.

Slowly, you leaned against the wall to pull yourself up. Once Jinx was safe and on her way home to Silco, you would find and kill Topaz. They had ruined your life, the life you were finally starting to accept and love. You were so close to finally living, so close, yet it was ripped from you and that was unforgivable. You would end Topaz’s life, even if it was the last thing you did. An act of vengeance from the monster they created out of you.

The light flickered above you, forcing you to take in your surroundings. A storage closet with cleaning supplies and various pieces for some card tables. Did Topaz own a casino? Listening very carefully, you could hear the chimes of slot machines and chattering, but you didn’t trust your brain. Even if you were pushing your ears to hear something, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Gambling would make for a great empire on its own.

You stared at the door, wondering if you should try to leave. Was anyone watching the door? Would anyone check on you? Since they were so kind to leave you with supplies, you decided to use them to your advantage. You scanned the bottles until you found bleach and rubbing alcohol. It took a little bit more work to find rags, where you could combine the two liquids into chloroform. You did your best to not breathe in deeply, using extra rags as a face mask. Once satisfied, you tucked it into your pocket.

Armed with a few different weapons, you felt more confident you could walk out. You tried the door handle a few times but it was certainly locked. Either you would have to wait or attempt to break out. There was a small vent in the back of the wall, but definitely not an accessible option.

The door creaked and you spun around to see who had opened it. The grunt who had confirmed Silco’s death stepped into the room and shut the door. His face was scarred but otherwise non-threatening, surprising for this line of work.

“Ah, was beginning to wonder when you would wake up.” His voice was rough with a hint of an accent.

“Where’s Topaz?”

He huffed at your impatience. “Busy.”

“Why am I locked away? I pretty much pledged my allegiance by removing Silco for Topaz.” Your heart rate increased with anxiety, uncertainty creeping up on you.

“Hmm, yes,” he thought about your words carefully before responding. “But you don’t let a wild animal roam free with no training, no? You must break them first.”

You grimaced at the comparison, but it fit in this case. More than this guy knew.

“You’ll get the rest of your things once the celebration is done. Might be a while, I would get comfortable if I were you.”

When he turned his back to leave, you closed the distance, hooking one arm firmly around his shoulders and wrapping your legs over his waist. He started to fall back, pushing you into the wall. Using this position to your advantage, you shoved the rag into his mouth while fighting off his hands. You didn’t let go; knowing chloroform takes a bit of time to knock someone out. The man continued to try and throw you off, ramming your back into the shelves. You grunted in pain, but you could tell he was slowing down, weaker. Sluggishly, he sank to the floor, knocked out.

It took a few moments to gather yourself, coughing a few times. You stared at his body, watching his chest rise and fall. The thought of giving the man mercy came across your mind, that you should take the rag out of his mouth. It could kill him or damage his lungs beyond repair. Instead, you spit on him, wiped your mouth, and moved his body, folding him under the lower shelves. Fuck him for standing in my way. Before you were done with him, you searched his pockets for keys. He likely was in charge of the prisoners. Finding your prize, you stood to leave.

You carefully turned the doorknob, listening to the sounds outside the door. When there wasn’t anything immediate, you slipped out and closed the door as silently as you could. While you could attempt to sneak around, it could also work in your favor to act like you belong. Piltover taught you how to have the confidence to act like you belong. You fixed your hair, scuffing it up, and messing with your clothes so you could blend in.

The lack of windows led you to conclude you were underground. The noises you heard earlier were a little louder, confirming the casino theory. You walked confidently, slowing down at the first room, you peaked around the corner to see what it was. A break room, quant for something in Zaun. There were four henchmen playing cards and smoking, but in the corner table was your bag. You’d have to cross the room to get there. If you look like you know what you’re doing, people will think you know what you’re doing. You puffed your chest, and strolled in.

You made it halfway through the room before one of them spoke. “Ey, never seen you before.” You froze, but tried to keep your cool. There’s a possibility you could still get out of this. “You one of Silco’s guys?”

Internalizing your relief, you turned to face him. “… yes.”

“Yeah, well, fresh meat makes the next pot. Get to it.” They had barely stopped playing the card game to speak to you, let alone look at you, only gesturing towards the coffee pot across the room. You decided to take this moment and see if you could get information while you followed their orders.

“Jinx is still here, isn’t she?”

There was a beat of silence before the man chuckled. “A terror there too, ey? Yeah, she is.”

“Where are you keeping her?”

“Why do you want to know?” There was suspicion in his voice and you worried you crossed a line.

“… It’s like you said, would rather not run into her.”

A few more of them chuckled in agreement. “She’s in that room down at the end of the hall but don’t worry, she’s pretty beat up. She won’t cause problems. Probably.”

The coffee pot was bubbling, noisily doing its job. You took the chance to grab your bag as smooth as you could before walking out the opposite direction of where they said Jinx was. The men said nothing, completely absorbed in their game. Probably paid by the hour and off the clock. You waited until someone rounded the hallway to double back, using her as cover just in case the card players decided to ask questions.

Once outside the door Jinx was held in, you pulled the key ring out. It took a few tries and you couldn’t help looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was around you. When you found the right key, you turned it and quickly stepped in, shutting it quietly behind you.

Jinx was tied to a chair, hands bound behind her. Her head hung forward and the state of her injuries mostly seemed surface level, nothing broken. It hurt to see one of her braids shorter than the other knowing she took pride in her hair. You almost fell on your knees right there but willed your legs to make a few steps towards her first.

“Jinx? Oh, my love, Jinx, what have they done to you?” You hesitated to touch her, your hand hovering over her head and cheek before settling on her shoulder. She flinched away for a moment before she lifted her head to look at you. A few tears escaped your eyes at the sight.

“… M-Medic? How… how did you get here?” Her voice was rough and quiet.

You smiled, tears warm on your cheek. “I’ll always find you, Jinx. Sorry it took so long, let’s get you out of here.” You cut the bindings and she slumped forward into you. Digging in your bag, you grabbed some alcohol to clean her wounds. Jinx hissed in pain but let you continue. “Can you walk?”

She grunted, leaning forward to stand but fell into you. You led her back into the chair and crouched next to her again, looking in your bag for two vials and a syringe. “Alright. I won’t be able to carry you so I’m going to give you something that should help you. It won’t be pleasant, but know that it’s to help you. Is that okay?” You placed your hand on her cheek so she didn’t have to use energy to look at you. Jinx leaned into it and nodded. You placed a kiss on her forehead before pulling epinephrine and shimmer into a syringe. It went into her thigh with ease, and you went back to bandaging her up as much as possible while it took effect.

“Jinx, when you get back, you need to rest for a while. No funny business, okay? You’ve been through a lot of trauma, please talk with your father if anything bothers you.”

“Won’t you be going with me, Medic? You’ll be there to take care of me?”

You paused and resisted the urge to pull inward on yourself. “What I did to get here… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back. I’m going to get you home but I won’t be able to stay. Silco won’t forgive me.” Your voice cracked on the last sentence.

“He will! He��”

“Jinx.” The drugs were working, she was becoming more alert. You pushed some of her hair out of her face. “I don’t…” you sighed, not knowing where to start. “You’re the daughter I never had. I wish I could take care of you for the rest of your life, but I’m afraid my time is limited.” Giving a sad smile, you wiped some of the tears to put on a brave face. “I have unfinished business here. No one does this to someone I love without consequences.” The venom in your voice got the message across. Before standing up, you had one last thing you needed to say. “Whatever happens, know that I love you, okay? You’re worthy of love and deserve happiness.”

She looked up at you, eyes watery. For now, she seemed to accept this answer. Jinx stumbled while standing but wrapped her arms around you. You held her in your arms as tight as you could, worried she would disappear. “Alright, let’s get out of here.” You helped her to the door, letting her get used to walking again while the adrenaline and shimmer did their work.

The two of you snuck around, carefully making your way to an exit. It was mostly empty, the sounds from above only getting louder. They really think they won. The acid in your stomach spurred you to move faster, Jinx keeping up with you. She was silent, processing her situation and the events that led up to it. You found some stairs that led outside. Jinx sighed in relief when the outside air hit her face and it hurt your heart, thinking what they had done to her. The two of you emerged in an alleyway outside the building. The two of you made your way down a few alleys before realizing you would need to exit to the main street, out in the open.

“I’m going to put you down and look around, okay Jinx?” She nodded, allowing you to set her down. You cautiously moved forward, seeing if it was safe to venture out. A dark figure loomed over you in a moment, a mechanical arm gripping you by the throat and pressing you against a wall.

“Not enjoying the new digs, Doc? Back to skittering around like the rat you are? What a shame.” Sevika’s voice cut like a knife, sharp and ruthless. She didn’t care that you couldn’t respond. Your hands tried to remove her gold fingers from around your neck but it was useless. “Tell me, Doc, do you not have a spine or was this the plan all—”

“Let her go, you big ogre!” Jinx threw herself at Sevika, not strong enough to do anything substantial. Her arms flailed and she started to stumble again, needing support. Sevika looked at Jinx in shock, like she saw a ghost. A few moments later, she threw you to the ground, forgotten.

“Holy shit. Jinx. You’re alive.” Sevika was out of breath.

“Medic saved me and you tried to kill her! What the fuck is your problem?”

“What?” Sevika looked at you incredulously. Her face showed her confusion but slowly melted into understanding. “You stupid, crazy bitch.” She gave a hollow laugh, completely dumbfounded. “I underestimated you. So it was intentional… that you…” The pieces were coming clearer to her, her words trailing off.

You were breathing hard, still feeling the ghost of her metal hand crushing your esophagus. “I did say I would… do everything I could to fix this.” Sevika watched with wide eyes as you picked yourself up off the ground and leaned against the wall. “Get… get Jinx home safely… please.”

Sevika nodded slowly, having a newfound respect for you. “What about you? Another fucked up plan to pull out of your ass?”

Giving a weak smile, you parroted her words back to her. “Loyalty to the end, right? I’m not finished here.”

She picked up Jinx like a sack of potatoes, the blue haired girl faltering with the drugs wearing off. “Well, Doc, I’d say don’t get yourself killed but it seems like you’ve made up your mind. It’s been a real slice.” Sevika gave a mock salute before covering Jinx’s mouth, muffling her complaints about leaving you behind. The two disappeared into the street.

You closed your eyes and leaned against the wall, knowing you got Jinx out of Topaz’s hands. When you thought about your next move, you decided it would be best to just walk through the front door of the casino. It would be easier with a crowd and the celebration going on. The casino opened to a large, open room, and was absolutely packed so it was easy to blend in. There were flashing colored lights but it was otherwise dark, hard to feel the passage of time while gambling your money away. People were drunk and high, not caring for your existence at all. It took some searching, but eventually you made it to the back of the room, where Topaz’s office would likely be. This was somewhat lazily guarded, only a few henchmen who wished they were partying instead of working.

For the most part, you walked uninterrupted, until you got close to the door that had the chem baron’s name on it. You were grabbed by the forearm and shoved into a supply closet.

A guard spoke in a hushed voice, her face full of recognition. “Whoa, hey, what the fuck are you doing, walking around? You should be—”

Not caring for the conversation, you pulled out the scalpel and slashed her neck quickly. Her arm went limp, dropping her hold on you, moving to grip her throat to stop the bleeding. She soon fell to the floor, motionless, blood pooling around her body.

For a moment, you stared at her, thinking of the body count you were now amassing. You shook your head and exited the supply closet. You were too close to your goal, all this a means to an end.

You slipped into the office, still coming down off the high of the last kill, not thinking straight. Luckily, it was empty and messy. You looked around and noted it was smaller and not as elegant as Silco’s. Tacky, it was tacky. Topaz would have to come back here at some point, and with the boxes around the desk, you could hide behind it. You would wait for your chance. Silco celebrated his victories but always would end up back in his chair, working. Topaz would hopefully do the same.

Time ticked on, the sound of a clock feeling like a heartbeat in your ears. You pulled out the syringe, planning on sticking them with the needle quickly and leaving in the shadows, their body left to be found later on. Voices were muffled outside the door, one Topaz’s, rather joyous. You couldn’t wait to take that happiness away from them.

Topaz entered the office, turned on the light, and paused, observing. Paranoia was a common aliment for those in power, so you tried not to let it worry you, keeping yourself calm. The sound of their boots and a sigh came closer to the desk. You heard the screech of the legs against the floor as the chair was pulled out and sat in. Waiting was a challenge. You wanted to get this over with, jab the needle in their neck and kill them but jumping in too soon would definitely give yourself away.

So, you waited. Waited for the telltale signs of reading long winded contracts and uncaring pen movements settled in and then you waited still. When Topaz showed signs of exhaustion, leaning over into the desk, groans of frustrations leaving their lips, that was when you would strike.

Like clockwork, you heard their defenses drop, consumed by the work to be done. Carefully, like a predator advancing on her prey, you approached the back of the chem baron’s chair, syringe full of mortality ready in hand. Just when you were about to stab it in their neck, Topaz’s eyes snapped to you inhumanly quick. Faster than you could react, the syringe was knocked out of your hand and you were thrown backwards, falling into a filing cabinet.

“Oh, poor little Para-Medic. I had high hopes for you, but of course, your Topside nature shines through,” they hovered over you, unflinching, smirking at your pathetic failure. “Everyone thinks they’re the hero of their own story, don’t they?”

The syringe was so close, it didn’t matter where you injected it, so long as it was injected. There was still hope.

That hope was quickly crushed when Topaz saw your eyes dart to the object and smashed it under their boot in a swift motion, embellishing the movement by twisting their foot a few times like they were rubbing it in. “No, I don’t think I’ll die here today, but points for creativity and moxie.” A furious rage swept over you as they spoke in that condescending tone to you. You were going to remove Topaz off their throne and there was nothing anybody could do to stop you.

Feral, you jumped at Topaz, gripping their throat by your hands. They struggled for a moment before overtaking you, smashing you into the desk. The feeling of choking by Sevika’s mechanical fingers earlier came back at full force, causing you to hopelessly kick and thrash but to no avail. You had to drop your arms to grasp the scalpel you had on you, swinging wildly to cut anything within range, mostly their arms. Topaz roared, furious and in pain, but took that instant to throw you into the office door. Apparently, it wasn’t that thick, as you crashed through it, pieces splintering off. You crumbled into the remains, not able to stand back up. You weren’t built for fighting head on like this.

The commotion caused the party and gamblers in the main room to stop what they were doing and look in your direction. None made any moves toward you, at least that you could see. Topaz was marching toward you, railgun at the ready. You dug your hand into your bag, feeling a cylindrical shape in your hands. One last chance.

“You think I will die that easily?!” Topaz picked you up by the collar and yelled directly in your face, spitting out the words. “NO. NOT BY THE HANDS OF A RAT LIKE YOU. I thought you had potential but how FOOLISH OF ME! NOW YOU WILL DIE LIKE THE INSIGNIFICANT PIECE OF SHIT YOU ARE!” You fumbled with your hands, trying to find purchase on their neck again. Topaz yelled again, throwing you halfway across the large room. At this point, the people inside had scattered, running away for the exits. Topaz’s men started to hang back, allowing their boss to take the lead but ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

The whirling of machinery filled the air, the feeling of static coming from the direction you were thrown from. Topaz was readying the railgun. You lifted yourself up onto your forearms to face them, struggling against the chunks of the card table you landed on. You couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across your face, unable to stop the maniacal delight that was rushing through you, keeping you alive.

“Any last words, grubby little rat?” It brought you great satisfaction to know Topaz wasn’t smiling, killing you was out of anger, self-preservation. No pleasure would be had at your expense.

“Yeah,” you huffed, “Get Jinxed.” You flipped your middle finger up, showing the pin from the bomb you had planted on Topaz before they threw you. Time slowed, their reactions sluggish as they understood what you were showing. You got to see the fear in Topaz’s eyes as they understood they had been beaten and it was glorious. Their henchmen tried to run but everything went white, your ears ringing, unable to comprehend the blast.

You were coherent for a moment after that, crushed under rubble. Everywhere hurt, there wasn’t a nerve that wasn’t screaming at you. There was no need to take stock of your injuries; you were going to die in the ruins of this forsaken casino. Even with parts of the building around you on fire, you felt cold, life leaving your body.

With the energy you had left, you reached to your pocket, whimpering in pain. You pulled the item so you could see it in the little light you had. The stupid gold knight chess piece you kept from Silco. It brought a smile to your face, knowing you had done something you were proud of, finally figuring who you were, even if Silco would never understand the lengths you went to save his daughter and everything he built.

Loyalty to the end.

The pain became too much and you let the cold darkness take you under.

Part 10

Notes:

Between chapters 8-9 is a theme of loyalty. This fic is heavily influenced by Metal Gear Solid 3, which has themes of how the times influence "missions" and who your enemy is. Here's a good speech from The Boss about "Loyalty to the End" as well as "Loyalty to your country or loyalty to me?" (both are kind of spoiler-ish of the game)

Medical/medicine: potassium chloride will kill you if injected, it's just not what Medic used for Silco, if that wasn't obvious. Epinephrine, aka adrenaline, will jump start a person but I made it a bit more realistic and also combined it with shimmer. Don't mix chlorine and rubbing alcohol please, it will make chloroform but it doesn't work as fast as shown in the movies.

Quote from Tales from the Borderlands

#of rats and men #crab fics #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x oc #arcane silco #lol silco #silco imagine

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

Text

Selfish Pt.2 - Sheriff of Nottingham x Reader (Robin Hood 2018)

Part 1

Authors Note: Promise we’ll go back to the beginning after THIS one. This is fairly important though, don’t you think? I’m not sure how much she’d get away with... But I honestly don’t care. She’s a badass and she can say whatever the hell she wants! First hint of what I’m calling him here. With her ‘Wil...!’ that is actually Historically “accurate” information!! One L because there’s enough of them in Robin Hood as it is!

ALSO - I thought you guys loved Sorrento, but, the NOTES for Pt.1 of this!? You honestly all blow me away sometimes...!! 😊

My entire playlist for the Sheriff is songs with religious significance or subtext... And I don’t know if that’s how my brain is working or I’m trying to tell myself something...?

Disclaimer: Owning my OC/Reader character only! I’ve never had a kid, so that’s all my imagination...

Premise: In an effort to keep both the Church and the Hood at bay, stress finally hit her - HARD.

Word Count: 4013

Warnings: child-birth (I might have overdone it slightly. I’m sorry!!) Third Person Reader Insert

I walked the line Until the line was just a blur And love was out of reach, And faith was just a word

Oh, I've been searching, I've been praying I've been hurt, and I've been patient I've been lost and found again Waiting for my Amen Looking at you now I believe Someone up there is looking out for me And I know how my prayer ends Baby, you're my Amen

---

It was the following morning when he got the inevitable call to explain himself to the Cardinal and the church. She wasn’t having it. “You’re not going.” “And what am I to do instead?” “Stay here where you’re safe. I’ll go.” She knew if she let him go to the Church they would likely strip him of office. Maybe they’d even try to finish what Robin started. The church can make or break a man… “You most certainly will NOT.” “I’ll take Marcus… Alden… My brother… Are they honestly going to try to harm two Norsemen?!” “…Take Guy and I’ll consider it.” She folded her arms and sighed; “Fine.” He seemed surprised, because he thought that was about the only thing she would never agree to, “But you stay here until I get back.” He opened his mouth, but the look in those hazel eyes of hers daring him to say something smart made him close it again. Maybe just this once he wouldn’t keep her here… “Tell me that sword is just for show?” “They wish.” “Y/N…” Even her brother was looking to rebuke her today “Askel – if I need it so be it.” “In a Church no less…” He looked towards the towering structure in the distance “Amen…” His mocking sarcasm was telling. She had accepted the Church because she had to. Her brother most of the time refused to set foot in it. And he wasn’t particularly happy that she seemed to forsake their Gods for this one… She was caught between two worlds, but she made sure to keep balance between the two. Askel wasn’t the only one who thought it was nonsense to do both. Marcus and Alden, about the only English men beyond her own man she trusted, stood a little way off. Listening, but understanding nothing. Only Tuck and the Sheriff had ever bothered to learn it; Tuck as a man of many talents and her lover because he wanted something that would be theirs – and seen as there was only one of them left… “How is he?” Marcus and Alden flanked her as they walked. Askel a few steps behind; he didn’t trust Guy either – which put Guy a few paces behind him. She rolled her eyes “He’s… Him.” They were both eyeing her sword; obviously as worried as her brother that she’d be drawing it. In truth, she also wanted to feel safe, like she wasn’t the defenceless pregnant woman she FELT she was right now. Her comment only made Marcus smile; he was used to every gripe she had with England, with Nottingham, with the Sheriff. He was her second in command, but also her best friend. Over these past 8 months, however, the complaints had only become more intense and to him, more hilarious. She used to do this daily; patrolling the streets of Nottingham with him, or with Eyhamel – her war horse. But for at least 7 of the 8 months there was a distinct radius she was allowed to walk in and never unguarded, and certainly, never in charge of security. She was itching to get back to it, of course, which is why she was about to walk into this. “Where is the Sheriff?” It was the archdeacon the five of them came face to face with, rather than the Cardinal. She kept her left hand on the hilt of her sword and it was clear the presence of both her and her brother made the man uneasy. “I believe after yesterday his absence is understandable.” “He was summoned here.” “And I am here in his place…” She was always defiant. And she was daring them to take Nottingham away from him now “…But I’m happy to deliver the message.” “With all due respect. My Lady, the message is for him. Not for you.” My Lady… God that even grated with her now – it was just the way he said it! She had the distinct feeling they weren’t particularly pleased with having to speak to her as a woman, either. “With respect.” Though she had very little for him, “The Sheriff almost lost his life yesterday in this very building. So let me get one thing straight here. You can tell ME what you have to tell HIM and I will endeavour to relay the information…” She took a step forward and out of line; “Or, why don’t I just tell you what you’re going to tell me… You’re going to tell me all the effort he’s made over the past few years on this War is not all for naught because of the work of a thief. That the people of Nottingham, after this chaos, need a strong leader. Because he is one. They need consistency and stability… Lose him, you lose me… For you that could be a good thing, but of him and I who has more favour with the people in your mines? You want them to keep the faith, excellent. Have someone tell them to keep it. Who would you put in his place anyway? And with this…?” She indicated to herself “Losing him is no good for anyone until we know what this is…” She took another step, with a smile “So I put this to you, Archdeacon. You do your job. I’ll do mine. And the Sheriff will do his. And at the end of the day we’ll all be better off.” His eyes flicked from her to the men around her, none of whom looked in disagreement because they all know she had a fair point. She was a woman of two countries and two faiths. And she was confident in where she stood with both. She was difficult to manipulate. There was no fear the Church could put into her, asides the fear they could put into him, which of course was why he wasn’t here. More than that; she hated them for everything they had ever done to him. And her brother – not even one to attempt converting – a true Norse warrior and surely not someone to mess with. The other three… Well, at least two of them would follow her orders to a fault. Even with all the Church’s power; with her the Archdeacon knew he had to tread carefully. The Church had no power here, even though they were standing in one. “…It’s all well and good saying this. Y/N. But what of the war?” She gave a shrug “I’ve never much cared for your war. That will be for your Cardinal to decide.” The step she took this time was backwards; making her 4 companions turn – even Guy knew her well enough to read every signal of her voice; “…I suggest you make the correct decision… Besides I don't think even you want the consequences of removing him from office... It could be more than just the Arabs he'll be warning the people about... We all know the stories of Ragnar..." "Was that a threat?" She turned from him with a smile, "It’s a promise..." And it was. Her father would as like march on Nottingham and the Church if someone so much as touched her. That's what Askel was for. And Norsemen didn't often show mercy. *** “...Can you do a ride of the perimeter ... anything unusual or out of place or-” “Yes...! It’s going to be fine... Robin hasn’t been here since the-” “I know, will you just do it!!” She was painfully aware of the ticking clock that was her pregnancy. And she was paranoid. Marcus couldn’t count the number of times she’d had him walk or ride various parts of Nottingham for any potential weak points Robin and co could take advantage of. “Marcus...” He turned at the sound of the Sheriffs call, walking briskly down the hallway toward them. “It’s okay. You may leave us.” “Yes sir...” But she pulled his arm back “Marcus please!” “It will be done. My Lady.” He gave her a confident nod and bid then both farewell. The Sheriff watched him leave before he spoke.

“What are you doing?!” His blue eyes studied her carefully... he noticed she didn’t look at him; “I’m scared!! I’m panicking that he might-” Of course this was about Robin. But he didn’t sigh. He didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t look anything less than understanding. Gathering her in his arms as best he could he ran his fingertips into her hair, kissing her forehead and hairline; “Shhh! Shhh! Not another word!” Well, he either wanted to know or he didn’t “Stop this... Y/N stop this...” “I’m just being prepared!” “You, of anyone in this Goddamn city, should be preparing for something far greater than our defences...” He whispered it gently against her skin. The way he chose to hold her now was protective. But he still moved his hand to rest on her bump “I need you to stop thinking about this... And start thinking about our child...” She wasn’t sure why he would think that she wasn’t doing this FOR their child. She let out a sigh of her own and wound her arms around him, burying her head in the safety of his chest allowing him to rub her back gently. “That’s my girl...” It was weird for him to say that phrase like that. Here. In this context. It sent a delightful shiver down her spine. Which made him chuckle, but say nothing more. He kissed her hair again. “We have mere days... barely weeks....” He watched the way the sunbeams danced in the courtyard, it was serene... His eyes flicked to the sky... In times like this he actually believed in God. He didn’t need a church for that - Hell, he didn’t want a church for that... “Everything is going to be fine... I promise you...” It was convincing. It was what she needed to hear. It was what he needed to say. How could he become so disillusioned with the church? After all hasn’t God given him this? By miracle or grand design... He realised quickly that yes, God may have...but the Church had not...

***

Weeks had passed since Robin had taken half of the poorer populous with him to God knows where… She was getting antsy towards the end of her pregnancy AND that she couldn’t be out there right now patrolling Nottingham or looking for Robin… All she wanted was to know he wasn’t going to come around here again in a hurry. She now found herself almost permanently stuck to the Sheriff; half in worry that something would happen and she wouldn’t be around. And she wouldn’t admit it to him, but she’d been having bad nightmares about the happenings in that church and she daren’t tell anyone else about it. Besides, what exactly could she tell the doctor? ‘I know you told me not to stress! But my subconscious thinks it’s a good idea to share that trauma with me every night!!’ Nope.

Today was Sunday, a Holy day, and that meant Church. She wondered if it would involve any more War donations… She had noted that since Robin had left talk of the war effort had fallen fairly silent. There was something going on in that brain of his, she could tell, but he wasn’t confiding it in her just yet… She wasn’t too worried – she’d be the first to know. There was a knock at her chambers as her handmaidens helped her to dress. If there was one thing she would curse about bringing another life into the world, it was the awkwardness of having to do even the most mundane of tasks with a bump. Even holding her lover close to her was proving most difficult these days. And as if to speak of the Devil he nudged the door open slightly; “Apologies ladies… I must interrupt…” He only half stepped into the room; clearly all ready to set off; “…Y/N, my darling, they have called me early. I’m afraid I must away… Will you be alright…?” She looked down at herself and the girls, who seemed almost finished; she didn’t like the idea, but she could imagine the Lords all attempting to drag him off for the best part of the morning before he actually caved… She nodded, “I shall not be too far behind…” “Okay…” His voice was quiet and she wasn’t too sure that was even the answer he wanted to hear. “Ok…” He repeated it, and with one look back into her eyes, he took his leave. She huffed slightly as Hal held out his hand to help her get into the carriage… Why all this was necessary she didn’t know! They were treating her, her!, Norse Princess and Shield Maiden, as fragile as glass. She knew she was pregnant but this was ridiculous. Still, she thanked him as she sat – today was a glorious day, the sun shone in a bright blue, cloudless sky and bathed everything in glorious golden light. Its warmth caressed her face and she smiled. Sure, she might have to spend the rest of the morning in a gloomy church (although… the sun through the pretty stained glass today would likely look spectacular) but once they left, she would get to see him in glorious sunshine; the way it would hit his blue eyes and turn his hair a multitude of grey shades and maybe he’d relieve himself of his jacket and… She bit her lip just thinking about it and damned her racing hormones. The carriage set off towards the church and her mind wandered, wondering what the subject of today’s preachy sermon would be… And how long they could possibly drag it on… She wondered if they would once again mention Robin… Because he was a subject all to himself these days… Not that she was SUPPOSED to think about him… A sudden sharp pain shot through her lower body that made her wince and cry out… what in the hell was-!? She cried again, holding her stomach as it happened again… Oh Gods… NO. She had to take a sudden sharp intake of breath, twice, in-out-in-out… She looked down to her dress, patches now considerably darker in colour… Please no… Cradling her bump, the next shot of pain almost had her in tears; but the liquid wasn’t blood… it was clear… And that left her almost more horrified. She wasn’t going to lose it… But he wasn’t HERE!!! “STOP!!!” She screamed as loud as she could, pounding one hand against the side of the carriage “STOP!!! STOP THE COACH!!!” Just hold on… hold on!!

The carriage slowed to a stop, and the door opened; “My lady, what is wrong…!?” She was almost bent double over the seat, her breathing ragged “…The baby…!!” She took another deep breath “The baby is coming…!” For the two men standing outside time almost froze, then they almost fell over each other flagging down the following coach. She squeezed her eyes shut and cradled her bump again trying her best not to begin sobbing in the midst of the commotion suddenly happening around her

“-turn the coach around!!” “—What do we tell---” “Someone has to go to the church and TELL HIM!!---” “—She can’t deliver here you---!” Marcus, ever her saviour, jumped up onto his horse “I’m heading to the church, take her back to the castle – and God Speed!” With that he was away, galloping as fast as the horse would take him. Another of the guards jumped on a second horse “I will go on ahead and warn the doctor!” The coach master was gathering the reigns back as two of her hand maidens Ada & Caralyn climbed in with her; as the coach began to move she grabbed Ada’s hand in panic “WAIT--- WHAT Ab- AH!” “They will bring the Sheriff as fast as they can M’lady… But we have to get you to a safe place and NOW!” Ada squeezed her hand tighter in a form of comfort “He will be there…” By the time they had made it back to the castle she could barely walk, and her contractions were getting worse, her security team practically had to carry her to her bedroom. All the while she was protesting; even though the doctor and his aides and her hand maidens had done their best to prepare for her; There was only one thing on her mind, still. “Where is he?!” “They can only get him here so fast… and on a Sunday…” She was still complaining as they laid her down; “You need to breathe… calm down and breathe…” “I CAN’T do this without him!!” She panicked, and Ada rushed to comfort her; the doctor and his team were firm; “Y/N, panicking will not help your baby… And you CAN!” The next shot of pain nearly took her breath; this was really going to happen – wasn’t it? She was trying to concentrate hard on what she was feeling to fight through the pain and listen… When she’d been old enough and curious enough to ask, her mother had simply replied that she would know, as she had to do was listen to her body… All around her she could hear medical nonsense and babble she didn’t understand and she wanted to yell at them all to be quiet; but she knew why they were stressed themselves, women died in childbirth… And it was sure the Sheriff would damn them all to hell or worse if anything happened to her here. Especially as he’d spend the best part of 8 months making contingency plans for this exact moment. It didn’t matter how many times the doctor told him he would have it covered. She was suddenly brought to another level of pain; and she felt the tears begin to run; this was ridiculous, she was stronger than this!! Women did this all the time!! But she already knew why, she was scared to do this without him and her body was caught between trying to hold it off and the fact that it was TIME to do this… “…Wil….!”

He was aware that by now he was probably late for the start of the service, several of the Lords were standing by the doors trying to usher him in, but he wouldn’t move until she got here. And he was becoming concerned that she wasn’t here yet. She knew the importance of punctuality, and he knew he had been early… What had happened?! He knew, idiotically, that he should never have left her alone. The sudden sound of hooves approaching at pace picked up his hopes, until it turned out to be a single rider – her right-hand man, Marcus. “WHAT?!?! WHAT THE HELL-” “SIR!” Marcus was slightly out of breath, mirrored by his horses panting “We have NO time! You must come with me!!” “WHY!?!” He was taken aback that the man would even interrupt him; “The baby is coming! Y/N has been taken back to the castle!” His eyes widened, horrified, NOW!? NOW!? She was going to have his child NOW!?! DAMMIT! Marcus grabbed his arm and helped him mount the back of the horse; turning it expertly on a dime – but not before the Lords all rushed forward; “Sheriff! What has happened!?” “You can’t leave church like this!?” “SIRS. My wife is about to have my first Child.” His snappy angry tone made Marcus inwardly smirk as he prepared to urge the horse back into a gallop “If being there rather than here is a sin, I shall repent later!” Marcus took that as a signal to go, and kicked the horse back into action, “…I didn’t realise you and Y/N were married, Sir?” The Sheriff at least laughed at that “What, you want me to give a full explanation of our relationship!? She is about to bare me a child Marcus! I don’t have time to lecture them!” “Well, if I may speak freely, I think it’s fine for you to lecture them a little, Sir!”

She certainly wasn’t making things easy on herself; she was going against every piece of advice she’d ever been given by every woman in her life and she was trying to resist what her body was telling her. For as long as she could… Come on Marcus! How long does it take!? Gods PLEASE! She knew it would be painful, but THIS painful..?! Eventually, when all the commotion around her stopped and the doctor and nurses settled into position, she knew everyone was waiting on her, and she could not hold off on what her body was asking from her any more, Ada clasped her hand tightly, and she took one gulp of air before she began pushing…

In the courtyard below there seemed to be more commotion. A lot of yelling back and forth and running footsteps, doors being thrown open so hard they hit walls, frames and all manner of other architecture… Then there was running down the stone corridor. All she was hearing beside the focus on herself was the doctor trying to help her time; and then the last set of doors were thrown wide, all but a few turned. The Sheriff didn’t stop there, running the skirting of their room to be beside her Ada left her hand in his strong, firm, confident grip. She almost cried again but in relief… he was here… he’d made it all the way back here… Marcus slowed his run to a jog, and then to give them privacy began to close the door.

“I’m here… Y/N… I’m here… Darling…” His voice faded in and out of focus but the strength of his hands around hers was all she needed, it was still painful, and he did his very best to soothe her, stroking her back… kissing her hand and whispering encouraging phrases that she couldn’t really hear but she knew where well meant… and then… Crying. And not from her. The room fell completely silent apart from the cries of an infant…

There was a collective sigh of relief as the breath everyone was holding relaxed… She couldn’t help but look to her lover and smile, and he looked back with nothing but admiration… The Nurses collected together blankets quickly… And the doctor cleared his throat in order to break the look they were giving each other. “Sir… Would you…” She let him take his hand back gently, his discussion was brief, and as if he had simultaneously lost the strength to stand the Sheriff fell almost weakly into the chair beside her. He clasped her hand back in his and sank his head onto the bedsheets; he very nearly cried with relief as her fingers gently tousled his hair; “You did so well… My darling… so well…” His murmur was as much relief as it was praise. He only raised his head as the doctor approached again, carrying with him their child; “Sir… My Lady… God has graced you with a Son…” She knew immediately that was it – the look needn’t even have crossed the Sheriff’s face as he turned to her; a son to carry on both his bloodline and his name. Heir to Nottingham, with a fair claim on her father’s Kingdom too. He turned to her, with a confident smile, “Y/N…” He took a breath like he didn’t know what to say “You have blessed me with a son…?” Then he laughed “…I think that makes it only fair that his name is yours to give…” She hadn’t been expecting it, but for a child of two words it would only be tradition to call him after his father – and hers. “Eske…” Would he be okay with that? “I would like to call him Eske…” “Eske…” He repeated, testing it for himself… before he laced his fingers with hers and kissed her, it was gentle and sweet “…Eske it is.”

*Eske, for Eskil. Her father, as you will discover when I do my (backwards) timeskips! I.E. In the next part!

GIF CREDIT: @mendo-r

#Sheriff of Nottingham #sheriff x reader #robin hood (2018)#Ben Mendelsohn #Robin Hood Origins #Linzi Writes #hunter hayes' entire C2C setlist had a major impact on me. Here is the first time I've used his lyrics. It won't be the last #There is also some Dustin Lynch in here if you're looking hard enough #I write a lot of lyrics into my stories. It makes me happy when I read them back #Rambling Again!#Thank GOD for the behind the scenes gifs #I WILL BE USING A LOT OF THEM THEY ARE SO GORGEOUS!#OHH MY GOOOD WHY HAVE I WRITTEN HIM THIS WAY!?#CUZ HES A BADASS IN A TRENCH COAT AND I LOVE HIIIIIM!#POST 9000!!!!!#I FIXED IT THERE IS NOW A PART 1 LINK #18 #Loraina

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matthewtkachuk · 2 years

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it's not anyone - kevin hayes

When a promotion at work calls for you to transfer back to Philadelphia, your ex-fiancé offers you the guest room of the home you used to share. What could possibly go wrong?

pairing: kevin hayes x reader

warnings: angst angst angst, relationship breakdown, talk of marriage and babies, low key plus size reader (and mention of exercise as an unhealthy coping mechanism), travis konecny still sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, the over romanticization of spaghetti bolognese

word count: 10.1k

a/n: and here is the second part (that i am queueing up at 8:17 am bc i forgot to do it last night whoops). thank yall for the love and support but an especially big thank you to my sweet k @danglesnipecelly for without whom this fic would not exist or be nearly this long or sad

Space, as it turns out, is you packing a bag and checking into a hotel for a week.

It was space you wanted and space you received, going to sleep and waking up alone, and it’s clarity you seek but not necessarily clarity you find. At first it isn’t that bad, you’d had months and months of practice living without him after all. You’d survived the cold winter winds without him at your side, and you’d overcome the warmth of the sun without those treasured weeks spent on the Cape. This is different, though. At least then you’d had miles and hours and distance.

Now Kevin’s a fifteen minute car ride but you can’t bring yourself to make the trip.

Because things hadn’t changed. Not really. Kevin was still Kevin and you still weren’t the kind of girl who marries him and has the happy ending. You were the girl who had to prove her intelligence and competence, who had to overcome the initial dismissive glances that were always thrown her way. You had aspirations and dreams and goals taller than the Empire State Building, and you were never going to stop until you got what you wanted.

Problem is, at some point, it was Kevin and a life and a future and that home that became what you wanted. And at some point you realized that you might have given it all up for him, if he had asked you to pass on that promotion, you might have said okay. That was terrifying enough in and of itself, but in the end it didn’t even matter, because he had said it wasn’t enough. That you weren’t enough.

And so you’d gone, tail tucked between your legs and left hand ring finger bare, and you’d taken the position and you’d thrown yourself into work even further than you had before. You now had two things to prove: that you were worth it, and that losing Kevin was worth it too.

You couldn’t really say the former wasn’t true - two years later and you were in a senior leadership role, head of several projects and by all accounts thriving professionally. And yet when the opportunity presented itself to transfer back here, you hadn’t hesitated. Because no matter what you achieved professionally, you still hadn’t been able to prove the latter half of that statement.

The entire situation has your stomach in knots for the majority of the week. The feeling doesn’t subside, not when you’re scrolling through ads looking for an apartment to rent, not when your largest project to date is presented to the board as a resounding success. To the outside world, it’s a series of small victories, and your work team prepares to head out for a round of drinks Friday after work. Emily gives you a knowing look as you shake your head and tell her you won’t be able to make it. She knows you’re going to head for your hotel room where you can continue to beat yourself up over all of your mistakes in peace, and so they all leave you alone in your office, their excited voices carrying long after they’ve left.

You stay a bit longer, wrapping up a few things here and there before flicking off the light and preparing to head back to your hotel room where you plan to lay face down on the soft bed for a few hours before ordering takeout and ultimately going to bed alone.

The universe has other plans. That is, if the universe was 5 foot 10, standing outside of your office building wearing a sheepish smile and named Travis.

Frankly, you’re not in the mood for his shit or his shenanigans, whichever he’s here to provide. It’s been a long week, a long and lonely week, and you really just want to sleep until things get better. It’s like he can sense your desires, obnoxiously stepping in front of you to block you from running past him. You step left and he steps right, you go to move forward and he does too. Finally you snap, “Can I help you?”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t startle or crack. He just shrugs, “I need to talk to you.”

Swallowing down the hurt of your last encounter you shake your head subtly, “I think you’ve said more than enough to me, Travis. Now let me by.” He doesn’t budge though, actions as annoying as ever, and so you spin on your heel, turning and heading in the opposite direction. Sure it’ll take an extra few minutes to reach your car, but the sidestepping a confrontation is worth it.

Except he’s calling your name again, voice getting louder by the second, until he finally shouts out into the Philadelphia air, “I’m sorry!”

That’s enough to stop you in your tracks, hesitating on the cracked sidewalk. It gives him the opportunity to catch up to you. Despite your business casual outfit, you’d managed to put distance between you two. “I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, “It wasn’t fair of me to say that to you.”

“No it wasn’t,” you agree readily, but don’t offer anything further. Truthfully you’re confused, you don’t know what would have made him have such a complete turn around in his opinion of you and your motives or lack thereof. That conversation was months ago, and so much had happened since.

“You just - You don’t know what it was like, picking up the pieces when you left.” And you know that you left a mess for him to clean up, like you know that but the focus is only ever on how you broke Kevin. No one ever wants to talk about how he broke you too.

“Don’t know what it was like? I lived it, Travis. You don’t know what it was like. I didn’t just lose Kevin, I lost everyone. I left behind everything, and had to throw myself into my job to convince myself that it had been worth it. And it wasn’t, and then I came back and I am just doing the best I can here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and the three syllables are really starting to grate on your nerves. Your mom once said that a thousand ‘I’m sorry’s were worthless unless accompanied by changed behavior. “He didn’t tell us what happened then, and he won’t tell anyone now. Just keeps saying that he fucked up and didn’t think you were coming back this time. Talk to him.”

“Go home, Teeks,” is all you can think to say, bundling up in your coat and swiftly walking past him.

In the end, it’s nothing but pure spite for Travis that keeps you from returning to Kevin’s front door until Sunday. It was space you asked for and space you received but you found in the loneliness of that hotel room it wasn’t really space you wanted. If you’re honest with yourself, really honest with yourself, you realize it’s Kevin you want. It’s always Kevin, in whatever way he’ll have you. The want and the need is so visceral it’s almost painful, drumming through your veins and pumping through your blood.

You want him so badly, but you resign yourself to the fact that it will only ever be as a friend.

When the door opens to reveal a quiet, relieved Kev, you almost wish you hadn’t stayed away. The feeling lingers as he pulls you into his arms, squeezing a touch harder than necessary.

The hug turns awkward quickly, all traces of comfort lost as he clears his throat and steps back out of your space.

“Why are you home?”

And isn’t that the million dollar question. What has changed since you scampered out of your once shared bedroom with an ache between your thighs but an even larger ache in your heart? Nothing really. He’s still Kevin, the person you loved with the fire and passion of a thousand exploding suns. The person you still love. And you’re still just you, the person who will never be worthy of him.

You know that you make things worse by being here, you know that he hurts just as bad as you did, know that it hurts all the more with your presence in the home built upon your shared hopes and dreams. You know that he loves you, but you know that he also told you it didn’t matter.

Kevin tries, he really tries to not let the seed of hope you had planted in his chest when you let him back into your heart, soul and body take root but he’s a simple man. He loves you, wants you to come home and stay this time. For real, though. Not in his guest bedroom, not on the fringes of his life, but in your bedroom and in his arms. He wants to put that ring back on your finger, but right now especially, he wants you to say all those same things back to him.

It’s why he deflates when you tell him it was Travis. He deflates but then he lets the anger fill him once more. He meant it when he said that Travis means well, that he’s trying to protect Kevin’s heart from more heartbreak. It’s why he cornered you in the first place, why his eyes grew dark and suspicious whenever they met yours. It’s why Travis told you to come home.

Kevin doesn’t want it to be Travis meddling in your business, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He wants it to be you and he wants it to be him and he wants it to be you both together.

“Why did you want me to come home?” you ask quietly, giving him the chance to say everything that’s on his mind. You know he loves you, you know you love him, and he knows the very same. But he can’t say those words. He can’t say them because you’re not here to rekindle your love, you’re here because Travis told you to come home. And you ended your engagement for a reason, for two damn good reasons, and yeah one of them might have been solved by your new promotion and job relocation but that doesn’t fix the rest.

He can’t tell you the truth, but he can apologize. “I’m sorry,” he says, but you’re sick of apologies. You’re sick of feeling like this, you’re sick of having him but not having him, you’re sick of feeling like a stranger in your own home. You pull back, not quite leaving the warmth of his presence but no longer allowing yourself to stand mere inches away from pressing against him, ready to tell him that and a whole lot more.

The expression on his face stops you. It’s largely unreadable, but somewhere beneath the surface it reads sad.

And so you whisper, “I’m sorry, too,” and let yourself step back into the comfort of his arms.

Being Kevin’s friend is an extraordinary study in patience and torture. He’s right there but he’s not at the same time; so close but so far away. The distance between you is only accentuated by the physical distance during the season. You have no claim on him, nor any stake in his behavior other than to play the part of concerned friend. It doesn’t stop your heart from sinking as you spot him in the corner of some of the boys’ insta stories, partying it up in another city, getting cozy with some girl who isn’t you.

It’s embarrassing and it’s childish, but you go out that night and find someone to take you home. It’s not some revenge thing, though. You don’t gloat about it to Kevin when he comes home, don’t rub it in his face or make it abundantly clear. The way his eyes follow you throughout the room make you believe that he knows anyway.

You don’t talk about it, don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to feed him some line about you both being grown adults who can be with whoever they wanna be with, when your heart knows the truth is you’re lonely, but it’s not strangers you meet in bars that you want to be with.

It’s a sick cycle that you both run through, chasing the high of feeling someone else’s attention on you. Proving over and over again that you’re both capable of moving on, even as you sit side by side in the deepest mud, tires spinning and ultimately going nowhere.

The thing about buying your dream house at the end of a cul de sac, with thoughts and plans of a beautiful family at the forefront of your mind, is that you end up purchasing a house large enough to fit that beautiful family.

And when one of Kevin’s oldest and closest friends is traded to Philly… one of those extra bedrooms is offered to and accepted by him.

“Just like old times,” Keith says, bags dropped at the front door, pulling you and Kevin in for a group hug. And it is, just like old times, just like those early years in New York, the boys’ friendship healing the jagged edges of Kev’s broken heart in a way you’re not able to do just yet.

But it also isn’t like old times, as you head to sleep alone and wake up alone and curl up on your own side of the couch alone. Keith’s teasing grin and knowing looks aren’t as jarring as the ruthless way he used to torment you and Kevin when you used to be stuck to his side like glue.

“You’ve gotta stop buying these,” Keith mentions offhandedly one quiet Saturday morning, devouring sour patch kids by the handful. You only briefly look up from your laptop where you’re playing a bit of catch up - you’d gone to the game last night rather than finish your deliverable and you were paying for it by missing out on your usual Saturday morning sleep in - with a scowl on your face.

“No one said you had to eat all of them,” you reply delicately, nose upturned ever so slightly before you return your attention to the screen in front of you. “Besides I didn’t buy any of that.” By that, you mean the horrendous and absolutely not professional athlete diet plan (or white collar VP diet plan for that matter) approved hoard of candy that seems to be almost magical in its inability to dwindle in supply.

“Kevin doesn’t even like sour candy,” is mumbled behind a full mouth of candy, but you work out the meaning all the same.

Kevin doesn’t even like sour candy rings in your ears on repeat the rest of the weekend.

Keith’s presence in your home - in Kevin’s home - only serves to further remind you that none of this situation is normal. It’s the look in his eye and the words on the tip of his tongue that you quiet with a single sharp glance. It’s Keith witnessing every awkward moment that you try so hard to ignore - every weird half-touch, every mumbled apology, every lingering and coded glance.

He sees you making Kev a cup of coffee just the way he likes it and setting it aside for him so that it’ll be the perfect temperature when he wakes up for morning skate twenty minutes after you leave from work with your own coffee mug in hand. He sees your eyes lingering on the photo still at the center of all the frames on the mantle whenever you watch tv, flickering over to where Kev sits on the couch beside him every so often.

He sees the hot shame that blooms throughout your entire body when you come home early one morning, dress and hair askew and bright red mark on your neck you fail to cover beneath your hand when you spot them both at the kitchen table. The way you stumble through an excuse and flee into the sanctity of the guest bedroom. The clench of Kevin’s jaw and the shake of his hands and the scrape of the plate on the table, eggs untouched as he claims he lost his appetite.

It’s a strange dance he is the spectator to, of the two of you so clearly as in love with each other as you were in New York and yet neither of you doing a damn thing about it. Teasing the two of you used to be one of his favorite things - is there anything out there half as enjoyable as reducing Kevin to a blushing bumbling idiot, stumbling over his words at being caught making out with his girlfriend at the bar? And yet there’s nothing fun about the torture you put each other, and everyone else around you, through.

Keith’s known Kevin a long time, since they were kids in Dorchester, and so he has no problem interrogating him one morning, driving home together after an early skate. Kevin shuts it down quickly though, both hands gripping the wheel tightly and gaze focused on the horizon ahead, he only says it’s a lot more complicated than it seems.

Funnily enough, you say damn near the same thing when he interrogates you too.

Keith’s not the only one frustrated with your lack of a relationship status. As you and Kevin rebuilt your friendship, so too did you rebuild your friendship with his teammates and significant others. Despite his earlier reservations, Travis is about ten more pouty Kevin practices away from tossing the two of you in the locker room and locking the door.

Ryanne is sweet but not at all subtle in her insinuations and you swear she hands off her children into Kevin’s entirely capable hands often for no reason other than to see if she can get you to break.

Just like Travis alone, they all have good intentions and they all want what they think is best for you, but they just don’t have the full story. Only an idiot would believe that the feelings weren’t there anymore for either of you. There’s too much lingering in those glances and those half touches and in all that history.

But that history is not in black and white and neither is the future and most certainly not the present.

Because you can love him and love him and love him - and you do! - but it’ll never be enough. Because it’s not enough and you’re not enough and your love isn’t enough.

After all, isn’t that one of the last things Kevin said to you before you gave back his grandmother’s ring?

You don’t think you’ll ever cook for Kevin in that big beautiful kitchen without remembering sophomore year and the good times and New York and the first months of bliss here.

The longing isn’t as painful or as deep now as it used to be in New York alone, cooking dinners for one in a cramped galley style kitchen in a Manhattan apartment. Nor the intensity of those first few months back in this house without the matching ring.

It’s still there, though, locked down deep beside all the words you want to say but fear you never will.

He has no obligation to, but Kevin likes to help you cook still. And still asks how high when you tell him to jump, albeit without the press of hands or lips to skin attached to the response. He makes an alright line cook, certainly no sous chef, as he dutifully prepares whatever you’ve asked of him alongside you in the kitchen.

Keith’s got some chirp for the two of you, one that makes Kevin throw his head back in a full belly guffaw while you angrily point the knife you’d just been cutting vegetables for the salad with and threaten to let him starve.

Kevin’s pretty good at one thing independently of you though, and that’s grilling. The kitchen backs out onto the deck through a set of elegant french doors. They give you a front row seat to the way his arms flex as he flips the steaks, the way his full pout closes over the lip of the dripping beer bottle, the way his hand pulls off his backwards cap before running through his hair and putting it back into place.

Unfortunately, the open style of the living room and kitchen give Keith a front row seat to you and the way your eyes don’t leave Kevin through the door. It’s his chuckle that snaps you out of it, and your death glare that makes him quiet.

Kevin sees it all, sees the way you shove one of his oldest friends, sees you laugh and joke and pout. And it makes him want. And it makes him wish. And it makes him wonder.

It makes him want you and it makes him wish he’d fought for you harder and it makes him wonder where you would be if you both had. He wonders if you’d be married by now, if you’d proudly wear a wedding band alongside the engagement ring. If there’d be children running around, beautiful like their mama and loud just like him. Maybe you would be pregnant now, hand resting on your growing belly and cursing the additional two children in the house you called your husband and his friend.

But then he remembers that wasn’t something you had wanted, not with him.

No, the longing isn’t as painful or as constant, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist. Or that Kevin doesn’t feel it too.

Girls night gets a little out of hand when the guy Emily’s been seeing posts another girl on his story in a way that is clearly not at all platonic. It leads to several rounds of shots between reassurances that she can do so much better than Dave in sales and some two stepping that was more akin to a centipede learning to waltz than a country-western dance.

What had intended to be a relaxed night with your core group of friends and coworkers quickly spirals, vodka sodas get downed like they're water alone while plain glasses of water are rebuked as if you’d all been offered pure cyanide in a cup. The night blurs, but you think you dance on a table or two and almost get into a brawl with some guy who won’t take no for an answer from a girl you’ve genuinely never met before.

It’s somewhere between learning all about Kelsey, as you’d discovered her name was, and the town she grew up in before listening to her speak about her loser ex-boyfriend that has you missing Kevin. It’s sad, really, the way you all but deflate in your chair even as your friends cheer Kelsey on in her retelling of a particularly nasty fight.

“Call him,” Emily nudges you a little while later, but you shake your head defiantly. You weren’t about to ruin girls night all because you couldn’t stop thinking about your ex. It was kind of the antithesis of all that the night had turned out to be.

You manage another few hours, trying your absolute best to keep the pout off your face and you succeed for a time, you really do. Honestly you think you’re doing a good job of staying engaged, clinking shot glasses and going to the bathroom in a small group. But then Emily’s reappearing at your side again, a little less gentle in her nudging as she almost sends you sprawling to the floor. “Call him.”

“No.” You’re forceful in your delivery but you don’t really think Emily’s even paying attention. Suddenly she seems stone cold sober, which absolutely was not the point of tonight after instagram had brought everything crashing down.

“Gimme your phone,” she demands, while the other girls crowd around you and giggle, demanding you do what Em says.

“No!” You move to shove your phone in your bra where you’re reasonably certain she won’t follow, not in public at least, but she’s got much better reflexes than you and manages to pull it from your grasp without much of a fight.

Before you know it she’s dialing the phone and speaking to the one person you haven’t been able to keep your mind off all night.“Hi Kevin, it’s Emily. Uh huh. Yeah. Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah she wants you to come get her. Uh huh. Do you think you could give the rest of us a ride home too? It’s kinda late to uber. Uh huh. Okay see you soon.”

You would lament the fact that she’d done it at all if you weren’t tired and missing the warmth of his embrace.

When he texts to let you know he’s outside and then calls when that text remains unanswered and unopened, you pretend you don’t feel the subtle buzzing of your phone. As if you could just ignore him long enough and he would go away.

“You didn’t have to come,” you mumble embarrassedly, eyes focused on the tattered drink menu in front of you instead of his tall frame as he’d had to come into the bar to find you.

He says your name so earnestly you have no choice but to look up at him. “Of course I did, you know I did.”

You don’t say much else, too wrapped up in the quiet moment in the middle of a loud bar before Emily and your new friend Kelsey are guiding you out of the bar, Kevin not too far behind you.

You don’t say much else but you think about it all on the way home, mind running in a million different directions at once. Your friendship, your relationship, all the fights, all the insecurities, the end of everything and the beginning you wonder if you’re heading towards. Ultimately, you don’t get very far, falling asleep in the passenger seat and missing the drop off of every one of your friends.

Kev’s hands are gentle as they attempt to rouse you awake. You can still taste the tequila on your tongue, with the hazy fog of the strong liquor still lingering too, a quiet whine rising from the back of your throat. His chuckle is warm and comforting, familiar like the memory of your grandmother’s love, before it disappears with the slam of the driver's side door. You sigh back into the cool leather seat, sure he’s left you behind in peace until the cooler night air reaches your face from where he’s opened your door too.

His quiet chuckles turn into subdued laughter as you fight off his hands struggling to unbuckle your seatbelt, slurring something about being warm and comfy. “C’mon baby, bed’s even warmer and comfier,” he says, surprised when his words register as some kind of logic in your drunk state causing you to stop fighting. You’re a lot more compliant, going easily as he pulls your cold hands into his and tugs you out of the car.

Kevin guides you into the house, carefully helping you navigate the hazards of his home while you lean into his side, before dropping you off briefly at the kitchen table with a glass of water and a promise to be right back. Your vision’s a little hazy and the room’s a little spinny and you don’t want water, you want Kevin and the big bed you used to sleep in late on Sunday mornings whenever you could in. And so you wander into the room that used to be yours, a familiar path you could walk with your eyes closed, one you all but did.

The room is quiet for the moment and the bed looks so warm and inviting, you almost cross the space between and slide beneath the sheets. You only almost do it because at some point during your recognition and remembrance that those sheets aren’t the ones you’d picked out, Kevin has left the ensuite and is staring at you with a look of pure longing on his face.

It’s a bit like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped on you then, every trace of alcohol leaving your system with a single glance. It had been so easy. So easy to find your way into this room and almost into that bed. So easy for him to leave bed himself and come get you from the bar. Easy and right and what you both deserve.

And he sees it. Everything you’re not saying now, everything you haven’t been able to say thus far. He sees it all and he wants it, wants you. But it’s not you anymore and it’s not him anymore and it’s certainly not you and him together anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean-”

You’re just friends. Two friends with a lot of history who hurt each other over and over again and are sorry for it all. Two friends who go to sleep alone.

That night your dreams are clear but you don’t remember a single detail when you wake up alone other than that Kevin’s voice featured heavily in all of them.

“Looks like you had fun in Vegas,” you state nonchalantly, feigning disinterest as you stir the pot literally and figuratively. It’s an innocent enough statement out of context, just a friend making a remark about another friend’s mini vacation in the city of sin.

Except it wasn’t a vacation but the middle stop on a three game roadie and your intentions are anything but innocent. It’s hurt that fuels you and the strangest sense of betrayal even though you have no right to feel either of those things anymore. You’ve been trying, but you can’t get the image of Kevin’s large hands on some other girl’s waist out of your head.

It’s not fair, not when you have no claim to him other than your broken heart, not when you’ve had someone else’s hands on your own waist in turn.

Even if it’s his hands you want on your body, even if it’s his presence your body gravitates to, even if the future you want is the future you were building together.

“Yeah…” he says slowly, voice low and calm as though he was speaking to a cornered animal. He knows you know why Vegas was fun, the way he appeared in the background of someone’s insta story.

You know it’s not fair and you know you don’t have a right and above anything else you don’t actually want to start a fight. You don’t want to jeopardize the friendship you’ve built with him,

the strides you’ve taken together to reduce the awkwardness and return some of the banter. And so you shake your head a little and turn your back to him as you refocus your attention on the boiling pot in front of you.

“You don’t get to do that.” It’s authoritative the way he speaks, though you hear his own hurt beneath it all.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

“It’s not fair,” he continues, all but urging you to look at him with his tone of voice.

You can’t, though. Can't face him to see the look you know is resting on his face. You can only nod, speaking again, “I know.”

“Look at me please.”

You do, finally, but not before reducing the heat of the stove and putting the lid on the pot to simmer. There’s a pull in your stomach as you look into his eyes, guilt mixing in with the hurt in your heart. You want to wrap yourself around him, push all of your broken pieces back together in the safety of his arms, tell him you love him and you want him.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead, but you’re sick of apologies and so is he. You wish you could bathe in the warmth of his love like you had for so many years, but you both made your beds and now you had to lie in them alone.

“I don’t want you to be sorry anymore,” he says and he means it. He doesn’t want you plagued with feelings of guilt and hurt, doesn’t want you to have to make reparations when those emotions twist and turn until you’ve done or said something you regret.

“I don’t know how to stop being sorry.” Sorry for picking a fight when you know you shouldn’t have. Sorry for hurting him and you at every turn. Sorry for moving into this house once again but even sorrier for having left it. Sorry for the state of your relationship, a decent friendship to be sure but not the deep, all encompassing love you’d enjoyed for so long. Sorry that you and your love and your future were never enough.

Staring at him you see it all, see that it’s your actions and inaction that have caused so much hurt alongside the words he once spoke to you. You also see a way out, though it’s not a good solution, but a cowardly one.

“I should move out.” For real this time. Not an empty threat thrown about, not a reaction to a meddling friend, not a dark thought had in the middle of the night in a cold bed all alone. A real answer, a course of action, a promise.

“How many times-“ His initial reaction is frustration, but it’s not necessarily at you, more of a knee jerk reaction to the panic of losing you once again. Kevin knows that if you move out he doesn’t just lose your continued presence in this house you’ve made feel like a home again, but you both also lose all the progress you’ve made together. He knows that while absence may make the heart grow fonder, it also allows you the opportunity to pull away for good. “I don’t want that, baby. I don’t want you to go.”

The pet name slips out once again but you’re too focused on the gentle steps he’s taking toward you. One hand flies to your chest to try and soothe your own panic you feel as every emotion pours into your body while the other flies up to halt his motions. “I don’t want to go either.”

One benefit to the strides you’d made together is the way honesty comes a little easier, words falling untroubled from your lips.

“Then don’t.” It sounds so simple, stay here forever, but it’s not that simple is it? Because one day he’s going to find someone who is enough, whose love is worth fighting for, worth asking to stay. “Don’t leave me again.”

There’s so much unsaid in the words between you, but you really don’t want to leave. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s weird or strange or unorthodox, but you don’t want to leave him or this kitchen or this house.

“I don’t know how to do this without you,” you stammer out as you enter his space. He opens for you in turn, pulling you into his body and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“You don’t have to.”

Not yet, anyway.

The end of the season brings a result that no one wanted, and a team barbeque at the Konecny’s household that you manage to get an invite to as a consequence of your renewed friendship with the team. It’s going well, the sun is a welcome warmth on your face and the sundress you’d chosen to wear fits the way you like it to. Baby Konecny is in your arms while you chat amicably with his mom until the sound of something breaking has her rushing off momentarily.

“You can’t do that,” Kevin says as he sidles up beside you, his large hand coming to rest on the baby’s head briefly before sliding down his back and then dropping to his side.

“What?” you ask in surprise, shaken from the image of Kevin holding a tiny baby to his chest you’d gotten lost in.

“You can’t just hold Teeks’ kid,” he clarifies and it sends your heart plummeting down into the depths of your stomach. You hadn’t meant any harm, when Karly asked if you wanted to hold her son, you found you couldn’t deny her, or yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer out, eyes wildly looking for one of the baby’s parents, wondering if you’d find Travis glaring at you like he had done when he’d cornered you months ago. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Kevin can see the panic in your eyes, the tension in your shoulders and hurries to explain himself. “That’s not it. There’s nothing wrong with you holding him.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends briefly before schooling his features once again. “Because it makes me want things I can’t have.”

Your heart stops then, surely he couldn’t be implying what you think he is. He couldn’t be saying that you were the thing he wanted but couldn’t have. “Kevin.” There’s a desperation in your tone that reflects the desperation swirling in his gut and it spurs him on.

“I wanted all that with you,” he motions at the baby and then the beautiful backyard you’re standing in. His voice drops to a lower volume, “I still want it with you. And I’m sorry I said that, I know we’re just friends and I know you never wanted that with me but I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Kevin.” You say his name once again but he shakes his head, so sure of his own convictions that you don’t know if you’ll be able to get through to him, and walks away from you. You’re quick to hand off the baby to his mom and then you’re searching for Kev in the depths of the Konecny household.

He’s on the front porch, hands tightly gripping the railing. His knuckles grow even whiter as you take your place beside him. “I always wanted all of this with you,” you admit quietly.

“Don’t,” he chokes out, as if the single syllable holds every bit of hurt he’s been holding onto since you left. “You made it clear when you left that you didn’t want to have my kids. And that’s okay, I’m not mad anymore. I want you to have everything you want and nothing you don’t. And I’m going to get over it okay? We’re going to be friends and we’re going to be fine.”

“I never said that,” you reply, shaking your head. He goes to rebut you, but you let a bit of the anger take over as you pull back from his side. “I would never say that because that’s not what I wanted. I wanted you and the babies and that beautiful house we picked out together. You’re the one who didn’t want me. You’re the one who didn’t ask me to stay. You’re the one who said I wasn’t enough.”

It’s the first time your respective truths are laid out for the both of you to see. The hurt and the arguments and the misguided views of what the other wanted hang in the balance between you. Finally he sees the truth.

He wanted you and you wanted him and somewhere along the way everything had gotten so fucked up that you’d both lost it all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until his large thumbs are wiping away the tear tracks down your cheeks. His voice is a lot softer, much of the edge gone from his tone. “I didn’t ask you to stay because I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t take your dreams away from you. It was me who wasn’t worth it.”

Your head tips back in a futile attempt to stop the tears from spilling from your watery eyes. Realizing this is the closest thing to honesty your relationship has had in a long time, you decide there’s no point in pussyfooting along the truth. “There would have been other promotions, other jobs, other opportunities! For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be someone important. I wanted to climb the corporate ladder and mean something. And then I met you, and the only thing I wanted was to be important to you, to mean something to you.”

“You were,” his hands go to grip your face and yours move to grip his forearms. “You are.”

“Then why aren’t we together? Why did we let ourselves fall apart?”

“Because we lost faith. We stopped listening to each other and started projecting our own insecurities. You didn’t think you were enough for me and I didn’t think I was either.” There’s a lot of truth in his words, a lot of buried insecurities finally being unearthed as you dig up the casket of your failed relationship.

“I just want to love you,” you beg, squeezing your hands where they rest on his arms. “Will you let me?”

The way your lips meet finally isn’t fireworks, there’s no thunder or background music track. It’s home, warm and secure and safe. It’s a kiss first thing when you wake up, morning breath and all. It’s a reunion after a string of away games, flinging your body into his waiting arms and letting him kiss every inch of your skin. It’s Kevin and it’s you and it’s love.

You leave the party without saying goodbye and you let him show you just how deeply his love for you runs beneath his skin. Kissing him is so much sweeter without the weight of guilt and regret holding you back. He holds you and kisses you and loves you and tries to put the broken pieces of both of you back together. He pushes and pulls and presses and you go willingly, giving into him and every emotion you’ve been neglecting.

In the morning, you wake in his arms but you swallow down the fear this time, staying until he wakes too.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he says lowly, voice heavy with the last dregs of sleep. It makes you laugh, curling into his bare chest and hiding your face in his neck.

Still, you can’t help but ask, “what are you gonna do about it?”, the words spoken against his skin. Your quiet, morning laughter turns into shrieks as he abruptly flips you both, digging his fingers into your sides until you cry for mercy.

“You bought me candy,” you say, pushing his hair back with one hand.

He doesn’t deny it, smirk turning soft as he rebutts, “and you set out my suits on game days.”

“Why did you do that?” You have to ask him, need him to say out loud the things you know in your heart to be true.

“Because I love you.” He says it so simply, so matter of factly. As if you’d asked him the color of the sky or which mascot in the NHL was his favorite (as if there were any answer other than Gritty).

He stills above you, body hovering over your own while you stare into his eyes. There’s a lot of love swimming in there and it gives you pause, the tiniest cracks in your happiness and self-esteem forming as your traitorous mind fixates on a single fact. One second that very same look of love had been written across his face, and the next it hadn’t been enough. A few ‘I’m sorry’s and sex didn’t magically make all of your issues go away, otherwise you would have been okay months ago.

Kevin sees it - the doubt and the questions and the anxiety, he sees the fear in your eyes and the desire to run. He sees it all, but it doesn’t make him angry this time. This time, he knows you’re looking for reassurance. This time, he knows this isn’t a reflection of him or his love, nor an indication of some kind of moral failing for either of you. This time, he presses his lips to yours softly before pulling back and speaking quietly into the calm of your bedroom.

“I love you and I want you. All of you. Your mind.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Your body.” And then your neck. “Your heart.” Your chest. “All of it. Always.” You pull him down to kiss you this time, hoping the press of your lips convey every word they can’t form between them.

“I’m so scared you’re going to wake up and realize that I’m not enough, that we’re not enough,” you admit softly. He opens his mouth to argue, but you cup his face and continue. “I’m never going to be anything other than who I am.”

“You will always be enough, we will always be enough.”

And you believe him. It’s not a magical cure, no easy fix. His words don’t take away your worries or fears, they still creep in insidiously when you’re alone, but they help. The words are ones you will hold close to your chest, calling upon them when things get tough and allowing them to curl up and take root in your heart.

“If it’s not you, it’s not anyone, Kev. I don’t want anyone else.” He feels the same, and he tells you not only with his words, but with his body too, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

The morning is spent in bed, full of love and kisses and wandering hands and gentle reassurances. Truth be told, you probably would have spent all day in bed if you could, but the rumbling of both your stomachs has you seeking out something quick before returning to the sheets and each other.

Later, you’re curled up on the couch - Kevin in his usual spot, arm extended over the back, and you curled up so tightly with him that neither of you are quite sure where he ends and you begin. You’re half in a daze, not at all focused on what is playing on the tv, when you have the urge to kiss him. For so long you’d denied yourself the pleasure, but now you were able to do it whenever you wanted and so you do.

Perking up a little, you look behind you into the open space of your dream kitchen. There must be something written across the lines of your face, because when you turn back to him he’s got a smile on his.

“Cook with me.” You frame it as an invitation, a question of sorts, but the way you jump up and pull him with you reveals it to be nothing more than an order. He goes willingly, and if he were asked, he would admit that there wasn’t a place in heaven or hell he wouldn’t follow you to.

Soon, a playlist sounds through the kitchen and a half bottle of wine has been poured. Kevin is dutifully chopping vegetables for you while you flit about the kitchen grabbing ingredients and beginning to saute things in a pan. You’re happy, incredibly so, in a way you hadn’t been in what felt like decades. Not since the last time you felt this free in this kitchen.

Kevin can’t keep his eyes off you, which may be a bit of a health hazard considering the size and sharpness of the knife he’s holding, but he doesn’t mind and truthfully neither do you. Everything about this feels so right, so familiar. Sliding up behind you, he wraps his arms around your midriff, smiling into your shoulder as you lean back into him in return.

“I’ve missed you,” he speaks softly against your skin. And although your first reaction is to argue, to tell him you’ve been here for months, you know what he means. Because you’ve missed him just the same. For so long he’s been here but not here, close enough to feel but not to touch. You only smile, breaking free of him long enough to continue the next steps in the recipe you know by heart.

Spaghetti bolognese.

You don’t mean to keep it a secret from everyone, it just never comes up. Like, there’s no perfect time to just stand on a bar table and announce to the entire world that you’re in love with one Kevin Hayes. You don’t mean to keep it a secret, but the longer it goes unannounced, the more fun you have with it.

Keith figures it out first, for no reason other than his continued presence in both of your lives and the other spare bedroom.

Monday morning has your alarm ringing at an hour that Kevin considers offensive. He tells you so, groaning deeply and caging you in his arms and burrowing his face in your neck. Well versed in the art of escaping Kevin’s arms early in the morning, you only laugh, kissing the side of his head once and sliding out of his chokehold.The shower you take is quick and hot, and by the time you reenter the bedroom, Kevin’s replaced you with a pillow. You’d be offended if he wasn’t so damn cute, and if you hadn’t already taken a picture for future blackmail use.

“How long have you been sleeping there?” Keith’s staring at you with eyes wide open and mouth hanging ajar as he witnesses you quietly leave the master bedroom.

You only smirk, patting his cheek once. “Few weeks now, bud.” Somehow his shocked expression only deepens, and you cackle as you make your cup of coffee and Kevin’s before slipping out the door.

Travis is the next to accidentally stumble upon the new status of your relationship. It’s in the locker room after an optional morning skate. Teeks is plotting with Joel to finally enact his plan to shove the both of you in this very locker room and lose the key. Unfortunately for him, neither being quiet nor being subtle are exactly in his wheelhouse

“I really need you to stop meddling in my love life, Tiki Bar.” Kevin says, grasping Travis on the shoulder. Joel takes his cue to leave, scrambling off the bench and leaving behind his shoes which he will eventually have to come back for, tail between his legs. “Besides, no need to lock us in this room when the lock on our bedroom works just fine.”

Travis can only stare as Kevin keeps walking, booming laughter following him out of the room.

And then Ryanne finds out from G who found out from Travis. Only a few hours later, everyone knows too. It’s nice then, to slide into a cracked vinyl booth in the back of a bar after a game you’d had to work through, pressing your thigh to his and your lips too, with the cheers of his teammates and significant others as background noise.

Jimmy must hear it through the grapevine that is the NHL, worse than any small town coffee shop full of retirees with nothing better to do than trade the latest gossip floating around. He’s sweet when he calls you, although the entire conversation is undercut with the obvious tension and worry in his voice.

It subsides though, when he’s not even able to fully get the question of whether you’re happy out before you’re emphatically assuring him that you both are.

It’s killing him.

Watching you hold his teammate’s babies and laugh and smile talking to his teammate’s wives. Seeing you flit about team events and family boxes and the locker room after games. Kissing you sweetly goodbye as you go over to Karly and Teek’s to play with their son and help her with wedding planning.

It’s killing him because it should be your baby and your wedding and the last name you wear on jerseys should be hyphenated alongside your own. Kevin wouldn’t trade the last few months for anything, even if you took the long way around, even if the months and years prior were full of heartbreak. He wouldn’t trade them because as a result you wake up in his arms and cook together in your kitchen and curl your entire body around him on nights spent on the couch.

But it should be you, with the pretty little diamond ring on your finger and your wedding photos blown up on canvas. It should be you on his health insurance and with Mrs. as a moniker. It should be you, round with child or maybe holding a newborn or chasing after a toddler who just learned the word no.

It should be you, but it’s not and though it is both your faults and yet neither is truly at fault, Kevin feels it especially when G refers offhandedly to Ryanne as his wife, and Teeks gets to use the word fiancée, and all he gets to say is you.

Because you’re more than just some girlfriend or some hookup or some girl who warms his bed. You’re his past and his present and his future. You’re everything he wants and more than that everything he needs and though there’s no one word to encapsulate it all, he thinks wife is a start.

His grandmother’s ring is still in the little velvet box where it has sat since leaving your finger, safely tucked away in a drawer when he’s not pulling it out to inspect it, as if some tiny detail about the stone or the band had changed since he’d last looked. It’s a beautiful ring certainly, but it looked far better on your left hand ring finger than tucked in amongst black velvet. He remembers the look on your face when you’d choked out a ‘yes’ through your sobs, remembers the way you would stop and stare at it whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, remembers the way it glimmered and gleamed when the light hit it just right.

He almost asks you to put it back on a thousand times. When you’re cooking together in the kitchen, music softly playing and your body moving in time with the beat. After a string of away games, slipping into bed with you, whispering “it’s only me,” when you stirred.

There are a thousand times and a thousand moments but none of them feel right, none of them feel large enough or worthy enough of it. He builds it up in his head so much, so transfixed on the idea of you wearing the ring that he drives himself crazy.

And it is crazy, at least a little bit, isn’t it? If one of the boys had approached him and said they were thinking about asking the girl they’d been seeing for a few months to marry them, he would tell them to reconsider and if they wouldn’t, then to get a prenup. But you’re not just some girl, and though it’s only been a few months since you’d both allowed yourself to be honest and stepped across that imaginary line you’d drawn in the sand between you, there was an entire decade of loving you before that.

Kevin looks at you and sees the very love he feels deeply in his heart reflected back in your eyes and it doesn’t feel so crazy anymore.

Six months after getting back together he just can’t help it any longer. There was a home game tonight that you hadn’t been able to make because you needed to work late to finish a project. When he slips in the door, he finds you fast asleep on the couch, a bright orange Hayes jersey engulfing your frame and a mostly drunk glass of wine sitting on a coaster on the coffee table. He remembers how adamant you were that he used a coaster the first time he came over to your dorm, your little speech and your hands on your hips and the way he was sure he wanted to bear witness to your ranting for the rest of his life.

You don’t move while he kicks off his shoes and loses his suit jacket, nor when he carefully slips past the couch to head for the bedroom, finding the velvet box with ease. Still you sleep, even as he crouches down by your head, running a hand through your hair and kissing your forehead. No, it’s not until he’s gently whispering your name that you stir.

“Good game, baby,” you speak, voice heavy with exhaustion in a way that makes his heart clench. He smiles and thanks you, kissing you softly before letting one knee fall to the ground beneath him while he balances on the other leg. “What are you doing?”

You know, though. The look in his eye, the familiar ring box in his hand, his knee on the carpet. Sleep still has her clutches in you, but it doesn’t stop you from sitting up and covering your mouth with both hands.

When Kevin asks if you’ll put his grandmother’s ring back on you can only nod.

And when he follows up his first question with, “Will you wear the matching band?”, you stare at him in a mix of confusion and shock and a current of excitement on top of it all. “I think we’ve waited long enough, I don’t want to waste another minute.” There are a lot of words unsaid, too heavy to be spoken aloud in the quiet dark but you feel them all the same. It’s been a very long time and there’s nothing more you want in the world at this moment than to be his wife.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon? Or too fast?” You don’t speak the words aloud but you’re also asking if he really thinks you’ll be enough this time.

You don’t speak the words, but he hears them all the same, the sweet smile on his face more convincing than anything he could possibly say but he tries anyway. “I have loved you for more than a decade already, and I plan to love you the rest of my life. I’ve wanted to be your husband since you spilled that beer on me the first night we met.”

You say yes.

With very little planning and even less thought, the next morning you pledge to love this man for the rest of your life and he does too. It’s a short and sweet ceremony in front of a justice of the peace, no flash, no pomp and circumstance, but it’s perfect because the man beside you is perfect. You don’t tell a single soul, the only witness to your marriage a very excited Keith who promises to not tell anyone before you’re able to - which, of course, means that the entire team and probably a handful of guys Kevin grew up with know immediately.

“Now what?” Kev asks, eyes fixated on the sparkling diamond on your left hand ring finger alongside the dainty wedding band, the ring combination that should have been there all along.

You smile, pulling that hand from his line of sight in order to rest it against his cheek. The cool metal is a comfort to the flush on his face that accompanies his wide grin. “Now we go get lunch and you get to explain to your mom that we got married and didn’t tell anyone we were doing it.”

There’s incoherent screaming coming from his iPhone while you happily pick away at your lunch. Ordinarily you’d probably be embarrassed by the commotion, as the other patrons sitting on the patio of the restaurant try, and fail, to look disinterested in the spectacle. Kev takes it all in stride, his smile never faltering as he ‘mhmm’ and ‘yep’s his way through the conversation. Finally his grin turns a little softer as he asks, “You wanna talk to her?”

You almost choke, frantically waving your hands while you try to finish chewing but he shoves the phone to your ear.

“Hey, ma.” You’re pretty sure she bursts into tears if she hasn’t already, inundating you with a million and one questions and thoughts and concerns. You answer her slowly, hitting each point one by one, line by line. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner and I’m sorry we didn’t get to have the big wedding, but we can still have a big party to celebrate together.” That gets her going on another tangent, and you lift your eyes to meet Kevin’s smile, kicking his foot under the table with your own. “Of course we’ll have it in Boston, that’s where it all started after all.”

Years later, when you’ve got a little boy and little girl of your own, they sit in that big, beautiful kitchen of yours, while their mom and dad cook dinner as in love as they were on their wedding day, just like you always hoped they would.

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes fanfiction #kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes imagines #shelb writes

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Intro and masterlist

✨about me ✨

this is a mature blog, I trust all minors to be responsible and avoid everything marked NSFW!

NSFW sideblog: @pervstash-spencer

Hi! my name is emily, I'm 23 she/they

Capricorn, bisexual, non-binary, autistic, and I have fibromyalgia ✌🏻 overall just a fun time y'know.

ao3

i love: supernatural, star trek, marvel movies, criminal minds, this is us and grey's anatomy !!

Accepting requests for Spencer Reid x Reader fics currently

all my tags are listed below if you want to see other posts about said fics, also here is my Spotify for the fics <3

Dad!spencer Masterlist

First times Masterlist**

all links to my fics below the cut!

Updated: July 28th, 2021

** for smut

~~ for angst

Spencer Reid x Reader fics

Hypothetically**~ Ao3 | Tumblr -- 27 chapters, complete. 89k

reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

touch me**~ Ao3 | Tumblr 5.8k

Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

amethyst you so much P1 Ao3 | Tumblr 6.4k

Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

of quartz i will P2** Ao3 | Tumblr 6K

after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Amoreena**~ Ao3 | Tumblr Completed 83k

Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Seven* Tumblr WIP

Summary: Spencer’s been married to Y/N for 7 years now, they have 7 children together and each one is going through something different. Spencer’s always wanted to be the best dad, now he gets to figure out how to be.

the guy at the rock show Ao3 | Tumblr 5.6K

Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

journey to Camelot** Ao3 | Tumblr 3.8K

When Penelope introduces Spencer to online games, he expects to be spending his nights alone. Yet, somehow every time he comes back from a bad case, he logs on to chat with the ever so lovely user FairlyGwen and getting a lot more than just a helpful tip from her.

Exploration** Ao3 | Tumblr 4.7K

request: season1/2 spencer walking in on reader while she's watching porn in their shared hotel room

Expedition** Tumblr 1.2K

Summary: there's a first time for everything... including joining the mile high club with your boyfriend on the work jet.

10 Days Ao3 | Tumblr 1.4K

it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.

ain't it fun?** Ao3 | Tumblr Masterlist 11K

reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

I'm not kidding!** Tumblr 6K

Spencer keeps getting little notes from a secret admirer, they're nice and sweet at first as they tease him with their crush until she's sending him notes about all the dirty things she wants to do to him

Perfect Timing** Tumblr 1K

spencer and reader have been spending the last month together in the same hotel room during a pretty brutal case. tension has been rising and she's completely in love with him.

what happens when they both think the other won't be back for a while and they want to shower?

Redamancy** Tumblr 5.4K

the co-op librarian at the FBI Academy has been secretly crushing on the smartest agent in the Bureau, TA, Doctor Spencer Reid, and he's been crushing on her too.

Being Neighbourly** Tumblr 1.9K

Request: reader is Spencers neighbour and she can hear him masturbating every night that he's home how do you have her deal with that?

Professional Hair Dresser (Ph.D)** Tumblr 6.4K

summary: after Spencer's knee injury, he starts visiting a salon every week to get his hair washed

36 Questions to Fall in Love Tumblr 8K

Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day

New Romantics** Tumblr 23k

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Million Dollar Man** | Tumblr WIP 5k so far

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea** | Y/N version | 1-4, 5-9, Epilogue 25.6k

Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Spencer x Ethan

Ruin it.** Tumblr 5.4K

Summary: Spencer never had sleepovers as a kid, so now that he's an adult he's always sleeping over at Ethan's house, ad he'll take any excuse to crawl into bed beside him.

Warnings: mutual pining, love concessions, blowjobs, handjobs, anal sex (both top and bottom spencer in this), childhood friends to lovers

400 Celebration fics

Reid Me Tumblr 2.5K

Spencer has noticed a beautiful woman at a spirituality booth at the farmers market every Saturday for almost a whole year now. he finally asks her to give him a reading.

mystery of love Tumblr 700

Spencer surprises his wife with a trip to Italy.

Spy Kids Tumblr 900

Spencer and Y/N's kids think that they are secretly spies and request a mission story before bed.

a father's greatest weakness Tumblr 1K

Princess Y/N is betrothed to the Viking king in an effort by her father to keep the peace between their countries, he doesn't expect her to join in the fight to free Scottland.

Luke x Reader

Best Dad Ever 2.8K

Request: angst with a happy ending, reader and luke have been divorced for a few years but have a child, she tries and tries to fall out of love with him but he's around so often that she can't

Spencer x OC

Sugar Honey Ice Tea** Ao3 | WIP 9/10 chapters complete 25.6K

Fix-it-fic: Dr. Beth Pattinson and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It Ao3 | Tumblr WIP 6K+

Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer x OC Peggy Carr

Franklin x Reader

Voulez-Vouz** | 3.2k

Summary: in a small town, everyone knows each other… or at least they think they do.

Warnings: porn with plot, smut, Dom reader, Sub!Perv!franklin, making out, teasing, face sitting, oral (female and male), hand jobs, overstimulation, prostate message, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, let me know if I forgot anything.

Chip x Reader

forever is the sweetest con** | 6.2K

Summary: Reader’s dad is a carpenter; sometimes he takes on apprentices and sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get his daughter’s number at the end of their training. Chip Taylor, however, hits the jackpot when her father invites him over for one of her homecooked meals.

Warnings: reader’s mom passed away, mentions of parental death, strangers to lovers, random acts of kindness, mutual pining, falling in love, steamy make-outs, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, sub!chip, food mentions, praise, love confessions.

Raymond x Reader

Alone Together ** | 2.4K

Summary: Raymond moves into a haunted house and ends up sleeping with the ghost who lives there... only he doesn't know that when you fuck a ghost you also become one.

Warnings: details of suicide and murder, blowjobs, pegging, bottom!raymond, top!reader, becoming a ghost, major character death.

Star Trek Masterlist

Star Wars fix it fic

Supernatural masterlist

thanks for all the love, as always,

-Emily <3

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

Note

Hi, um...I'm just the slightest bit touch-starved at the moment and I was wondering if you could maybe do a fic about the reader being touch-starved? Maybe she just really wants a hug and Malcolm brushes up against her and that's how he finds out? Does that make sense??

Oh, nonny, of course! And I know I can't give you a hug physically, but I am virtually! (Don't worry, I'm touch-starved af too, and I cried a little when I was writing this.) Cross-posted to my AO3 here.

If anyone wants to be added to my taglist or wants to submit a fic request, my ask box is always open! If you want to know whether I write for a certain character, have a look here. If the character you want isn’t on the list, I probably just forgot to add them, so please feel free to ask.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Touch-Starved

Malcolm Reed (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is just entirely fluff with some feelings. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this!]

Warnings: Descriptions of being touch-starved? I guess? Idk if that counts, but yeah. General softness, because Malcolm is a sweetheart.

~*~

Truth be told, it shouldn’t have affected me the way that it did. A single brush on the shoulder while passing through one of the corridors on the way to my quarters shouldn’t have brought tears to my eyes or made me make the sound that I did.

��Ensign?” A quiet call came from the person I’d bumped into, and when I turned reflexively toward them, I saw a concerned expression on Lieutenant Reed’s face. Shit. There was no hiding the tears that were in my eyes when he was standing this close. One of his hands came up and just barely touched my arm where he’d brushed up against me. “I’m so sorry, are you alright? If I hurt you-”

“N-No, no. You didn’t. I’m...It’s nothing. I...Excuse me,” I stammered, forcing a smile as I hurried in the direction I’d been going originally. Malcolm called my name perplexedly, but I just sped up. He couldn’t see me...not like this. I didn’t slow down until I was safely behind the door to my quarters. With a quiet sob, I leaned against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.

It had all happened so slowly, and yet the realization had come too late in the process. Over the year that we’d been on Enterprise, I’d made friends, sure, but we all had to remain at a professional distance. When we’d gone back to Earth to deal with the aftermath of the Xindi attack, others had their families. Others had their friends. I had remained near the base where Enterprise was docked. When we were about to re-board the ship and I saw people bidding their loved ones farewell, it struck me like a freight train: I hadn’t had close physical contact with anyone - outside of hand-to-hand combat training - in over a year. When was the last time anyone had hugged me? Or even placed their hand on my arm?

No. No, I hadn’t allowed myself to think of that for the first few months of our journey to find the Xindi weapon. This feeling was so ridiculous compared to the enormity of the task and dangers facing us. Earth was in danger and a single Ensign was sad because she wanted a hug?

Ha. Major Hayes and pretty much anyone else on the ship would have surely scoffed and told me to grow up. So I stayed silent. It was a tense sort of feeling, as if any touch not meant to maim or injure would make me break down.

And here I was: breaking down in my quarters after a single, solitary brush on the shoulder - by our Chief of Security, of all people. Our very attractive Chief of Security who I had very unprofessional feelings about and who would doubtlessly think me weak if he saw me like this. He had almost done exactly that just now in the corridor. That sobering thought sent a shiver of fear through me. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this, much less Malcolm.

And yet...if there was one person on this ship I felt safe telling almost anything to, it was him. Often when I envisioned somebody hugging me, my mind’s eye conjured Malcolm taking me into his arms. Without so much as a second thought, I changed out of my uniform into some sleep clothes and curled up in bed.

The next day was progressing normally right up until I sat down for lunch in the mess hall. I’d chosen a quiet little table in a corner out of everyone else’s way. I settled in and tried to focus on the words of the report I was meant to be skimming when somebody cleared their throat, making me look up. I swallowed nervously as I met Lieutenant Reed’s eyes. He was holding his tray of food and giving me a gentle smile.

“May I join you, Ensign?” He asked quietly, and since I didn’t trust my voice to come out in a steady manner, I just nodded my head in agreement. Now I definitely couldn’t focus on the report in my hand. Malcolm took a slow sip of his coffee and fixed me with a look I couldn’t quite read. “How’s your arm?”

“My arm, sir?” I couldn’t make myself understand what he meant.

“Where I bumped you yesterday,” he clarified and oh. Oh, he really did think he hurt me.

“Oh! My arm is fine. Like I said yesterday, you didn’t hurt me. I was...just startled. Lost in thought, that’s all.” The last part was a lie, plain and simple. After all, I couldn’t tell him what I was really feeling. I wasn’t that great at hand-to-hand combat anyway. I couldn’t give him another reason to think I was too weak to be on this mission. Malcolm’s brow furrowed, and he set his mug down.

“You’ve never lied to me before. Why now?” He asked leaning a little closer so our conversation stayed private.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine, Mal,” I said trying to sound upbeat and normal. “Really.”

He looked like he was about to protest further when an announcement rang out over the comm system.

“Senior officers to my ready room,” Captain Archer ordered, and Malcolm spared a glance at the speaker as he stood. Turning back to me, he leaned in and placed his hand gently - so fucking carefully - on my shoulder.

“This isn’t over. We’ll talk later,” he said before turning and walking out of the mess hall. Every single fiber of my being felt like I’d been shocked with an electrical wire, concentrated mostly at my shoulder where his hand had been. I placed my own hand over the spot as lightly as I could, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Blinking back tears, I tried to shove that damned feeling back down again. There were more important issues. Like the Xindi. Or the anomalies we’d been running into in this part of space. Anything to get my attention off of how fucking amazing it felt to have somebody’s hand on my shoulder...and how much I already missed it more than I’d expected I would.

That night when I was finished with my shift, I put on a comfy, oversized shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts and curled up on the bed in my quarters with a book I’d brought from home. Taking a deep breath, I tried to lose myself in the words on the page and let the stress of the mission and the day melt away.

It wasn’t to be. A few pages in, my door chime sounded, and I let out a quiet sigh before calling for whoever it was to come in. The door hissed open to reveal Lieutenant Reed wearing a concerned expression. Closing my book with a quiet rustling of pages, I sat up a little straighter.

“Lieutenant. What can I do for you?” I asked quietly, and he walked slowly over to the side of the bed.

“I think we need to talk,” he said, and any chance of him having forgotten our previous conversation went out the airlock. “Something is very wrong - even Trip has noticed you’ve not been yourself since we left Earth this time round. He thought it was just the attack, but...somehow I don’t think that’s what’s wrong.”

When I remained silent for a few moments, Malcolm sat on the bed near my waist and bent his neck until his eyes met mine.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” He asked, and I nodded my head slowly. “Then talk to me. Please. I want to help, but I don’t know how unless you tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been withdrawn...distant. You haven’t been to a movie night in over a month...I’m worried about you.”

The last sentence was almost a whisper when it came from his lips, and the shock of hearing him sound so uncertain made me feel guilty. I hadn’t meant to make him worry.

“It’s silly,” I started, but Malcolm shook his head emphatically.

“I saw your eyes last night. If it was silly, it wouldn’t have brought you to tears. If somebody hurt you, I will personally give them hell. Please, tell me what’s going on. I’m all ears,” he said encouragingly, and I bit the bullet. With a stammer in my voice I told him everything, and not once did he look at me like I was an oddity or like I really was being silly. I left out my feelings for him, of course, but I did end up explaining why I’d reacted the way I did in the corridor the night before. When I’d eventually finished, Malcolm lifted his hand and moved it slowly toward me, pausing a few inches away from my face. “May I?”

I couldn’t seem to make my voice work, so I nodded my head silently in response. A small smile played across his lips, and his fingertips brushed lightly over my cheek as they moved to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. With a whisper of my name, Malcolm cupped my cheek sending a shock of warmth through me.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t want to help?” He asked quietly, and when I couldn’t come up with an answer, he moved closer and drew me into the warmest hug I’d experienced since I was little. I wrapped my arms around his middle and buried my face in his shoulder. The scent of his aftershave and something uniquely him calmed me and made me feel safe.

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” I muttered before I could stop myself, and Malcolm leaned back just far enough to look at me with a curious expression. “With everything happening...with the Xindi and the Expanse...my problem seemed so...insignificant.”

“Oh, darling, I could never think of you as weak,” he said emphatically before his lips pressed gently against my forehead. Those words and that small action broke me. I shattered into a million pieces. Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks, and I hid my face in his shoulder so he wouldn’t see. One of Malcolm’s hands slid up and his fingers ran through my hair, making me melt into him. His strong arms held me securely, and when my emotions calmed enough for me to finally look up at him, I found his gaze already on me. He smiled softly and he leaned in just a little closer as he carefully wiped my tears away. “I would do anything to help you - anything you could ever ask of me. This...being close...This isn’t silly or an inconvenience; it’s a pleasure.”

“Thank you, Mal,” I whispered. My voice was so quiet I thought he might not hear me, but when he closed the distance between us and just barely brushed his lips against mine, I knew that he had.

#malcolm reed #lt malcolm reed #malcolm reed x reader #malcolm reed fic #soft malcolm #fluffy af #deepspacedukat fic #star trek enterprise

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tomhollandsblog · 5 years

Text

lesson learned - part four - Tom Holland smut series

Pairing: Tom Holland x female!reader

Description: Ever since you met the mentor for your study subject, Tom Holland, you set yourself the goal of being spread across his desk and being fucked senseless by him someday. You try everything in your power to achieve that goal.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: message me if you want to be on the taglist for this series! let me know your thoughts! There’s gonna be one more part after this

Warnings: swearing, filthy smut

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five

masterlist

NSFW under the cut

part four - convincing

Of course, you couldn’t forget about Tom. He was probably the best sex you ever had, but not only that. He was the first guy in a while who seemed to show interest in you. Between the hot moans, his strong fingers digging into your skin and his cock pounding into you, what you certainly couldn’t forget about was the way his eyes would always search yours to see whether you were okay and the way his hands felt on your body caressing you after you both came and you laid there catching your breaths. It was almost haunting you. You knew you could only rest if you saw Tom again. It was inevitable anyway. Though the campus was big and always crowded, you would always run into old acquaintances whenever it was most inconvenient. Plus, you studied the same subject, you could even suddenly sit in the same course out of a sudden next semester. You knew you had to face Tom at some point again, but you were trying to avoid the possibility of it – not thinking about it.

When you told Jenny about everything that had happened, she reprimanded you for it. “You just don’t turn down a guy like Tom when he asks to take you out.”, she had said, and you knew she probably was right. “You need this.” She was most definitely right.

Two uneventful weeks had passed. You studied, prepared for some exams, went to some parties, even made out with a hot international literature major, but you turned him down when his hands went to your ass. Something in you mad you do it. So, it was just another day when you went to the busy student coffee shop on campus when the inevitable happened.

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice that the guy waiting in front of you in line was, in fact, Tom Holland. You only noticed when he looked around and saw you, and at that moment, it was too late for you to walk away now. You had to face him. When Tom’s eyes laid on your face, you saw a number of unreadable expressions flicker over his face until it settled on a surprised smile.

“Hi, (Y/N)! Nice to see you.”, he said.

“Tom.”, you countered with a genuine but nervous smile. Was this the first time you actually called him Tom? You immediately wanted to go back to calling him Mr. Holland and he calling you baby. Before you could proceed with your conversation the barista called for the next person to order, which was Tom. You expected the encounter to be over with now. You would both grab your drinks and disappear into different directions again. Tom was probably over you, probably had forgotten about you anyway.

“I’m getting a black tea and a croissant.”, Tom ordered as he got his wallet out. He shot you a short look as if to ensure you were still there before quickly turning to the barista again. “And I’m paying for whatever she’s having.”

You immediately wanted to decline but as you looked at Tom’s warm eyes, you stopped yourself. I need this. “I’m taking a Macchiato and a cinnamon bun.”, you said to the barista and looked back at Tom. “Thank you.”, you said genuinely.

“It’s my treat.”, he winked at you as he paid for the order. “Can I convince you to sit with me?”

“Barely.”, you joked and you could see a small smile on Tom’s lips. When your order was ready you found a corner in the shop to settle in. “So, this is not gonna be awkward?”

“Not if we don’t make it.”, Tom said as he took his first sip. He was right. But you didn’t know what to talk to him about. You had never properly talked with Tom other than sex talk and talk about that assignment and you had pledged not to go on a date with him. Did he just trick you into being on a date with him? No, no, this wasn’t a date. You quickly picked your first piece of your cinnamon bun. “So did you turn your assignment in for Professor Hayes?”

“Oh yeah, I did. Thanks for your help.”, you didn’t know how Tom would interpret your gratitude. “I heard he takes very long to grade though.”

“That’s true, he’s notoriously known for that.”

You looked back down at your plate. Your idea of a conversation was now over. But not Tom’s.

“See, I don’t want to annoy you with this, but”, Tom paused for a second to ensure he had your attention. “I really enjoyed… being with you. And I would really like to see you again.”

“Here I am.”, you laughed.

“Not like this.”, Tom rolled his eyes with a smile. “I would like to get to know you. Take you out on a date.”

“Listen, I haven’t done this dating thing for quite a while.”, you said.

“I know.”, Tom said and your heart dropped to your stomach. He definitely knew about your reputation then. Not the best conditions to start a serious relationship. “I’m sorry. That didn’t sound like I meant it.”, Tom was quick to correct himself. His hand went to the back of this neck. He seemed to be nervous. “I- I don’t-“, Tom tried to start again but interrupted himself a few times before finding the right words. “You don’t have to commit to anything if you don’t like.”, he said. “Just give me one chance, one date. And if you don’t want to see me after that again, you won’t have to.”

You looked down at the table, your left hand beside your plate, only inches away from Tom’s hand. Tom noticed you looking down at your hands and moved his hand so that his fingers were slowly grazing along your wrist. The soft and warm touch of Tom’s fingers on your skin sent shivers down your spine and left you aching for more. Inappropriate thoughts started wandering through your mind. You could lean over to Tom, whisper into his ear, leave for the bathroom and wait for him to follow you and fuck you quietly in the toilet stall. But instead, you turned your hand on the table, your palm facing up and making his fingers naturally fall into the dip of your hand. If Tom would stretch his fingers, they would slip in between yours and then this would almost be romantic.

You downed the rest of your Macchiato, Tom had almost all of his tea left, and you got up, your hand slipping from beneath Tom’s. “I’ll get back to you. Thank you for the coffee.”, you said with a small smile before you turned around, leaving the coffee shop to go back to classes while you were already making your mind up about Tom’s invitation.

Two days later, with Jenny’s stamp of approval, you walked down the corridor to Tom’s office. He had his office hours today and when you got there, there was already another person waiting. So you put your name on the list hanging on the office door and you sat down, waiting. Fingers fiddling in your lap, you thought about whether this was too inappropriate. But then you remembered that Tom had previously fucked you over the table and spanked you, so this shouldn’t be something out of the ordinary.

So, when the student in front of you left Tom’s office and you were called in, Tom’s face showed surprise. “(Y/N)?”, you heard him say when you turned your back to him to quietly shut and lock the door.

“Yes, Mr. Holland?”, you smiled as you turned around and walked up to him. Tom had stud up upon seeing you, but when you were in front of him you put your hand on his chest and pushed him to sit down in his chair again.

“What are you doing here?”, Tom asked, confusion written on his face.

To answer his question, you grabbed his hands by the wrists and guided them to lay on each side of your hips. You were slowly starting to regain confidence as you swayed your hips. You lowered yourself until you seated yourself on Tom’s lap with your legs spread apart to the sides. Tom’s grip hardened over the fabric of your white skirt. You leaned over to whisper into Tom’s ear.

“We have to be quiet, there are students waiting outside.”

“Fuck.”, Tom muttered under his breath.

You took the straps of your top and let them slowly slide down your shoulders until your breasts were on full display. As you pushed your body closer to Tom’s, his mouth found your nipple and he started sucking at it, while he pushed his hands to be under your skirt, kneading your ass. In return, your hand snuck down between your bodies to massage at Tom’s already hardening cock beneath his trousers.

“I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”, you whispered as you started to grind your hips down against his. Your hands now in his hair as he was sucking on your breasts and his hands pushed you closer to him.

Your hands now started to fiddle with the zipper of his trousers until Tom’s hands came flying to help you, his lips glistening with salvia from sucking at your skin. You briefly stood up so Tom could quickly get out of his trousers and boxers before you sat down on his lap again. As Tom was swiftly putting a condom on, you unbuttoned the front of his shirt, so that your bare skin of your breasts could press against the skin of Tom’s chest. With one hand resting on Tom’s shoulder and the other one grabbing his penis by the base, you guided yourself until the tip of his cock was nudging your entrance.

As you locked eyes, his hands underneath your skirt to hold your hips again, you slowly lowered yourself on his cock, savouring each inch, taking him in. When you were fully seated on his cock, you had to take a few breaths. While you always thought that getting fucked from behind would always make you feel someone’s cock a lot more, riding someone, sitting on his cock, was the way you would be filled up the most. As you started moving slowly back and forth to ease your way into it, you heard a low groan coming from Tom’s mouth.

“Sshh.”, you said as you smile at him. Tom shutting his eyes tightly, lips pressed together.

You were slowly moving on his cock just the way you liked it, no concern for Tom’s pleasure at that moment. Biting your lip, you also had to stop yourself from making needy moans. The feeling of Tom’s cock inside of you, nudging at your walls, filling you up so good, was driving you crazy, making your eyes roll back. You leaned forward just at the same time as Tom was slightly sitting up, so your breasts were now pressed against his bare chest, Tom’s hand holding you by your back gently. You were looking down at Tom, his eyes finding yours again. It felt as if a sweet taste unfolded in your mouth at the sight, at the feeling of his cock inside of you. So, you couldn’t do anything other than slightly lean down to him and catch his soft lips in a hard kiss.

Your lips moved in unison as you moved your body up and down his cock and you both allowed yourselves to moan into the kiss, sloppy but passionate. You ended the kiss with a soft bite into Tom’s lower lip and you picked up pace riding his dick. Using your hands, you pushed down Tom by the chest until he was leaning back in his chair, watching you as you worked yourself on his cock and your breasts ever so slightly bounced with your movement. He pressed his lips tightly together again, fingers digging into your sides. When you felt his dick twitch inside of you, you repeated that movement and picked up speed. Closely listening to the hitching of Tom’s breath you could tell that he was itching closer to his release. So you slammed down harder on his dick and just right when you were sure he was about to come you stopped and went painfully slow again.

“Fuck.”, Tom whispered as he let out a breath of air, he had been holding in. “You’re a fucking tease.”

You grinned with pride as you rolled your hips down into Tom’s hips slowly. Leaning forward you connected your lips to Tom’s neck and softly sucked there only leaving faint marks of purple. The thought of Tom facing other people in his office with soft purple marks on his neck, so faint that you would have to look twice to notice, was just so hot to you. Tom rolled his head back, giving you even more access to his soft skin. As you rolled your hips, sucked on his skin, you left soft kisses in between an occasional bite, which made Tom hiss. When Tom twitched his hips, you sat upright again, and you worked yourself faster on his cock again. This time you were determined to ride him until his high.

You started breathing heavily as you went up and down Tom’s cock with fast pace again. The way his cock was stroking your walls made you certain that it also wouldn’t take too long for you to orgasm. You put one hand on Tom’s chest to steady yourself before you moved it to the side of his neck to hold him dominantly. You could tell Tom was also only barely holding it together. So you only slowed down a tiny bit and you leaned forward. Using the hand on the side of his neck, you guided his mouth to your nipple again. You were now going a bit slower, but the tip of Tom’s cock was now hitting at a different angle, right into that sweet spot on your wall that drove you crazy. You worked yourself to penetrate that spot as Tom’s lips were sucking hard on your nipple before you felt him softly bite into the nipple and it sent you into oblivion. With such a hard bite on your lips, that you worried it would mark up, you came all-around Tom. You rode out your orgasm as best as you could, with Tom’s hands hard on your hips and his lips on your skin.

When you came down from your high, you didn’t stop the pace. Instead, you picked up even more pace, with one hand pushing Tom back into his chair, holding him by the neck. You moved your hips as hard and as fast as you could, and you felt Tom trying to thrust up into you beneath you. As your grip on his neck tightened his mouth opened with a silent moan and with tightly shut eyes and stuttering hips, he released himself into the condom. You slowed down your hips’ movements until Tom used the hands by your sides to stop your movements entirely, being oversensitive from the hard orgasm.

Tom’s head was fallen back, his breath fast, hands only resting softly on the tops of your thighs. You wished you could sit there forever with Tom’s cock slowly softening inside of you. But holding the condom by the base of his cock you slowly got up and you pulled up the straps of your tank top, so your breasts were covered again, your hard nipples still peaking through the thin material.

“You should probably get dressed again, you still have work.”, you said with a mischievous smile as you ran your hands through your hair to make sure it looked alright. Without a word, only a low groan, Tom pulled his trousers up and zipped them up again. You stepped closer to him again, your hands buttoning up his shirt, fingers softly tracing his hot skin. When you reached the last button, your look went up to find Tom’s dark eyes and you whispered. “Friday. Pick me up at 7 pm.”

And with those final words and an innocent smile you turned around and walked towards the door. When you unlocked the door and you took one last look over your shoulder you saw Tom standing there shaking his head with a soft smile on his lips.

Lesson Learned Taglist:

@deadlyaffairs @holland-aisesauce @buckysdoll @kittycatlover18 @softbaby-tom

if your name is crossed out it means Tumblr won’t let me tag you

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 5 years

Text

Husband - Eric Coulter

Pairing: Eric Coulter x Reader

Characters: Eric Coulter, Jeanine Matthews, Four Eaton, Peter Hayes

Warnings: N/A

Request: @cokecola4211: “Divergent imagine the reader is Four sister and she is pregnant with Eric's baby when she is captured by Jeanine men and stuff to get back at Four and Tris and she sees Peter and tells him that she is pregnant and that she never told Four.”

Word Count: 1126

Author: Hannah

Everyone would always tell you how lucky you were to be with Eric, and that you were the one person who had actually managed to get him to act like a normal human being,

You’d transferred to Dauntless along with your brother a few years back but whilst Four was bickering with Eric, you were growing quite close to him.

It had taken your brother a good whilst to adjust to the fact that you and Eric were together, but he eventually learnt to deal with it.

Of course, you and Eric had had your issues but the two of you were still a strong couple.

You’d been to the faction clinic as you’d been feeling relatively nauseous as of late and your suspicions had been confirmed – you were pregnant.

A part of you was absolutely terrified to tell Eric because you were unsure of how he was going to react but the part that scared you more was having to tell your brother.

Despite Four having accepted yours and Eric’s relationship but he still didn’t take well to comments about what went on behind closed doors.

Just as you were rounding the corner from the clinic, you were grabbed behind and a bag was thrown over your head.

You were aware that you were being moved somewhere – the fact that you had been thrown into the back of a truck, and then pushed out onto a gravel floor let you guess that much.

The people who were handling you were rough, and you were sure you’d come out with bruises the next morning; you had to only hope that you’d get that far with whatever was going on.

When the bag was pulled off of your head, it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright lights but when they did, you realised you were in some form of hi-tech lab.

It looked as if it belonged in Erudite.

Your suspicions were confirmed when Jeanine Matthews stepped into your line of vision.

“Hello Mrs Coulter,” she greeted you with a fake smile on her face.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Why have you dragged me here Jeanine? My husband has complied with everything you wanted him to do – we’re your allies!”

She scoffed. “You’re not here because of your husband my dear,” she stated in a seething tone. “It’s about your brother.”

You frowned at Janine’s comment. “My brother hasn’t been around recently.”

“Because he’s been trying to destroy me and our plans my dear.”

Your expression must have been confused because Jeanine sighed as if talking to you was a chore.

“And you are to be used as leverage,” she told you before she whirled out of the room.

Soon enough she returned but with Four trailing behind her.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of your brother, but you soon began to panic when he didn’t recognise you.

Reaching out to him as he stormed towards you, you winced in pain as he shoved you away and to the floor.

“Four! Stop it!”

The words fell on deaf ears as your older brother continued to push you down every time you managed to get up again.

“Tobias! You’re my brother, please, stop this,” you pleaded with him desperately, but he only kicked your abdomen causing you to curl over in pain.

Your mind went straight to the baby in your stomach and so you went into protection mode – he was not your brother and you had to protect your child.

As you continued to try to fight your brother off, you scanned the room for an exit.

When you spotted it, you grabbed a metal table leg from the floor and whacked your brother over the head with it.

Jeanine looked at you in shock and then her eyes turned to the unconscious Four on the floor.

Whilst she was distracted, you headed straight for the exit and thanked your lucky stars that it was open.

It wasn’t until you opened it, however, that you realised exactly why it had been left open.

Peter, one of the transfer initiates, was stood there with his gun pointed at you.

“Of course, you’d try to escape,” he seethed at you.

You sighed, holding your hands out to him. “Please Peter, you need to let me out of here.”

He scoffed as he shook his head. “You really think I’m that stupid?”

“You’ve never been stupid Peter,” you stated, trying to appeal to his ego. “You should have been top of the class and I told Eric that, you know this.”

He faltered slightly but still had the gun trained on you.

“I’m pregnant Peter, I haven’t told Four or Eric yet,” you quickly explained. “Just think of how grateful they will both be to you if you let me go.”

You could tell that your words were getting through to him – all Peter really wanted was the acceptance of Dauntless, he had been a major pain in the ass with a very big ego, but he was suited to Dauntless in certain ways.

As soon as Peter lowered his gun, you pushed it out of his hands and made sure to kick him to the floor.

You didn’t look back as you ran out of the compound, hoping to see at least one person you knew could help you, but you were unlucky.

The only thing you did see, however, was lines of the Dauntless initiates with guns in their hands and walking as if they were robots.

Trying your best to follow them, you soon found yourself in your old compound of Amity which was not a welcome sight considering the memories you had.

Once you were there, you spotted your husband up at the front of the line with a couple of the other leaders.

Making your way over to him, he spotted you and pulled you away from the crowd quickly.

“What on earth are you doing here?! You know that you can’t be here.”

You pulled him into a hug, not knowing what to say but only thankful that no one took him either.

“You should be at home.”

“Jeanine’s men dragged me to her lab,” you whispered in his ear. “She told me I was bait for Four and he came after me.”

Eric’s face contorted into shock as he pulled you into his arms. “She’s used it on him too, that’s why he did what he did.”

You nodded in acknowledgement and then looked up at him. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you Love, it really isn’t,” you told him, and a confused expression came across his face. “You’re going to be a Father, and we need to save our baby’s Uncle.”

#Hannah #Eric Coulter #Eric Coulter One Shot #Eric Coulter Imagine #Divergent #Divergent One Shot #Divergent Imagine #Request #Jeanine Matthews #Tobias Eaton #Four Eaton #Peter Hayes #Husband #cokecola4211

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blinder-baker · 5 years

Text

Carnations | I

Alfie Solomons x Reader

Synopsis - An anxious reader struggles at work

Warnings - Swearing, mild anxiety I guess

You had started writing as an escape. Scribbling into your book whenever things became overwhelming. Small little entries, long ranting speeches, or a list of words that just described the atmosphere. It was difficult to believe that it would clear your head, as your aunt had recommended. In fact, you had forgotten about her advice until she gifted you a notebook for your birthday. A pretty little thing. A black leatherbound book, with smooth pages and a fountain pen. You hated the idea of it going to waste, so you tried her idea. At first, you attempted writing one thing everyday, then it was just writing whenever you felt like it or there was a free moment. It became pretty clear to you that she was right as you filled up the book with ease.

For your next birthday, she bought you another book, almost identical except that it was in a navy blue. Your cousin even bought you a fancy thesaurus, though you suspected that it was supposed to be a gag gift. You kept it on the bookshelf in your room and let it gather dust.

Whilst you were aware of the importance of the book, you never shared it with anyone. Your family understood that it was private and you were sure that your friends hadn’t even picked up on it. But it was your safety net, you always slipped it into your bag when you left for work.

You loved your job, you loved your boss actually. Which could never be a good thing. You worked at the “Aerated Bread Company” of Camden town. A bakery that made rum instead of bread. You didn’t work in the bakery, per say, you were a secretary for Mr Solomons - the boss. Who was the exact man you were sweet on. However, he hardly noticed you, he barely looked at you when he barked his orders. But Ollie, his assistant, was perfectly pleasant and you soon befriended him and his wife.

The men toiled away as your heels clicked against the stone floor. The main room was a large hall, with a clear path down the middle to make for easy access to Mr Solomons office. It was an odd building. The majority of it underground, with a large staircase right at the front door. You had overheard people joke that it was like descending the stairway to hell. The entire building lacked windows and the small lights fitted into the ceiling were dim. But above the ground, was an actual bakery, albeit a small one. You estimated that it only made twenty loaves of bread a day and scarcely bothered to venture into anything else. There was no point, after all, everyone knew what this building really was - even the police.

None of the men bothered to look up as you walked past them. They knew who you were. You did not have an office of your own, instead, you had a desk about a metre away from Mr Solomons’ door. Everyone had the opportunity to watch you work, but they seldom bothered, you never did anything interesting anyway. In a way, you were proud of your desk, you kept it neat and tidy. Your typewriter was in perfect condition. You had brought in your own candles, as the light never stretched to you, but you didn’t mind, candlelight made your desk look prettier. In order to make it look nice, you had once brought in a small vase that you filled with carnations. The flowers cleared the thick air, which you were grateful for.

You often thought that your desk was exemplary, at least it was for you. It even had a view into Mr Solomon’s office door, though the glass pane was fogged and the blinds always closed during his meetings. You weren’t sure what drew you to him, he was a gruff man with a terrifying temper. But the way his hands gripped his cane, how he leaned back into his chair, his sharp wit, made him magnetic. A raw power not to be trifled with.

This is what you contemplated as you brushed the old petals onto the floor, the bunch was dying quicker than usual.

“Mornin’ Y/N.” Ollie greeted, heading into the office.

You beamed at him, flicking through the small pile of paperwork that had been set on your desk. Ollie was always running errands and rarely had time for the humdrum of paperwork. Which was precisely why you had been hired. You scooped the stack into your arms before heading to the records room.

The record room was another floor downstairs. Into the bowels of the building. You were sure it was the only room at this level. It lacked space and the more time spent down there, the more energy seemed to be sapped from your body. You clutched the quire of paper in one arm, allowing the other to grip the wooden banister. The lighting problem continued here as well, without a single bulb on the staircase and only one small lamp in the records room. Your fear of slipping and breaking your neck on these stairs was a completely rational one. Upon being certain that you had reached the end of the stairs, your hand groped at the wall to find the light switch.

You sorted the files rapidly, keen to return upstairs, the room’s aura clinging onto you like a blackberry vine sticks to a cardigan. Jogging up the stairs left you out of breath and you could feel your heart beating in your blouse. Even the air of the workroom was a relief compared to the record room. However, any solace quickly dissipated when you found someone sitting at your desk.

The man in your seat picked at your flowers with little care, discarding the colourful petals onto your typewriter. He looked bored as he ruined your pretty carnations and pried into your safe space. What right did he have?

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” You had meant to sound strong and professional, but it left your lips a timid squeak.

His sunken eyes looked up at you and his tongue darted across his lips. He pushed himself up from the dishevelled desk and walked into the light. You did not recognise the man. He was tall, and slender with a graceful air about him.

“I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” He was quick to cross the room, eager to stand in front of you. He towered over you, his breath hitting your forehead.

“Ain’t you all gussied up, looking like a dream in heels,” He remarked, his hand going to touch the collar of your blouse.

You shuffled backwards until you felt the wall against your back, the corner of the staircase digging into your spine. He pushed further, making your retreat futile.

“Careful there, it’d be a shame for you to fall,” His eyes held a certain malice with what surely was a threat.

Was no one else seeing this? Did they simply not care?

“If you’re looking for Mr Solomons, he’s probably in his office,” You tried to diffuse the situation. This couldn’t be your fault, you had done nothing but your job and yet here you were, cowering helplessly.

His lips parted slightly as he placed one hand on the wall beside your head, he found this funny. The only way to escape was to duck to the right, but risk falling down the stairs. Into the tenebrosity of the records room. He knew this. He did it on purpose.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, finding Ollie striding down towards you, he saw the alarm in your eyes.

“Mr Hayes? Alfie is ready for you,” Ollie tells him urgently.

Mr Hayes backed away from you, his eyes lingering on your shaking form. He smiled smugly, before turning on his heel and going into the office.

You wrung your hands as you stepped away from the staircase. Immediately, you began to restore your desk, avoiding Ollie’s worried gaze. You plucked petals from the keys of your typewriter and took the devastated flowers out of their vase.

“I don’t know why anyone would…” You sniffled, unable to finish your sentence. Small things found it easy to disrupt the balance of peace. Ollie took the flowers from your hands,

“Why don’t you take a break, there isn’t a lot to do right now anyway,” He suggested quietly, as if telling a child they were in time-out until they had their head on straight. But he was only being nice.

You nodded at him, allowing him to leave and continue his work. You took some time for a couple deep breaths before pulling out your notebook. This was the perfect time to pen something new. After some deliberation, your mind struggled to find anything you thought worthy. But you hated leaving a fresh page empty. You didn’t need to write about this, you could write about something else. Anything else. He did not deserve a page in your notebook, he found power in fear, like a coward. But you found yourself so easily overwhelmed, you were a gentle person. Peaceful - and that’s how you wanted your life to be. But in a simple moment, things came crashing down, they filled your senses and ached your soul. Maybe any other girl would have not cared, or pushed him away. But you weren’t a fighter, you didn’t have the confidence to bear the consequences.

Some people are just born to fight.

It’s not that they’re born brave. It’s not that they’re born strong. It’s just that the universe has decided that this one, this one will have grit and fire and steel in their blood. And it’ll be tested, this cosmic mettle of theirs. It’s what they know.

But some aren’t fighters.

They search for serenity and quiet, in small things like gossamer and silk. In paper and cotton. They’ll still face trial after trial, be damaged in countless ways. They can’t fight back, but that isn’t their fault, far from it. They’d rather find their peace another way.

I’d rather find my peace another way.

You read it over, and over. Before slamming the book shut and tossing it haphazardly onto your desk. What utter tosh, you thought. The page deserved to be ripped out and burnt. You brushed the hair out of your eyes and sighed. It was still morning, there were hours ahead of you. No one had ever wished for their bed more. You contemplated how long the meeting had been going on for. To be honest, you had no clue, an indication that you should invest in a wristwatch.

When Mr Hayes exited the office, you slumped into your chair. Not looking at him. You didn’t want to see him, never again. Instead, you stared at his shoes. He walked with arrogance, like he had won a bar fight. No one ever left Mr Solomon’s office with pride, he had a knack of conning them out of their profits. But not Mr Hayes, it would seem, though he might have been putting up a front. Unwilling to let everyone know he lost.

As soon as he ascended up the stairs and out of the building, Ollie scurried into the office. You watched carefully, he pressed himself against the door, as if he was blocking Mr Solomons’ view to the workroom.

He was not in there long, however, as Mr Solomons barged past him. A fire burning in his eyes. He walked towards your desk with his infamous stagger, trailing his cane alongside his feet. You sat up straight, gripping the arms of your chair, anxious of what he was angered about.

“Just sit tight for me, petal, right there,” His voice is mellow and doesn’t fit the tone of anger in his eyes. He ventured further into the workroom, surveying the men. They all kept themselves busy, minding their own business. They, too, could sense his rage.

He rapped his cane against the side of a barrel and all the men looked up at him. Mr Solomons rubbed his beard with his tattooed hands, he faced away from you. But you watched intently at the faces of the men. Expressions of mixed anticipation and horror.

“So, when a man comes in here, starts fuckin’ vandalizing shit. You all jus’ stand there?”

He spat slowly, allowing every word to sink in.

“And when, said man, traps a fellow member of staff, against the fuckin’ wall, YOU JUST FUCKIN’ WATCH, DO YA?”

Spittle flew from his lips and he bellowed out into the room.

For once, you didn’t feel anxious or overwhelmed, Mr Solomons’ shouting never bothered you because whenever he screamed at his employees he was trying to regain control. Control was important, it was steady. You were too absorbed in staring at him to take in the rest of his speech, but you were well aware when it was over.

“In my office, petal,” He commanded, with no animosity. You were not sure when he had started calling you petal. It felt right, it felt warm. You followed him with no hesitation. Your boss gestured for you to have a seat, yet again you did as he obeyed.

“Whiskey?” He offered, pulling open the drawer to his desk,

“Oh, no thank you, Mr Solomons,”

It was hardly lunchtime, you would hate to jeopardize your work by getting woozy on his drinks.

“It’s Alfie, petal, jus’ Alfie,”

You smiled politely at him and averted your eyes from his gaze.

#alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders x reader #fluff #carnations #Alfie Solomons

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