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aurorafables · 2 months

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From the Grey, Chapter 7.

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

Hi everyone! Here is a new part of the story with sweet moments between the boys 🥰😊 and some angst from the past.

Have a nice week! 🙂

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism

Word Count: 4.4k

Cross-posted: AO3

The next morning we had a small breakfast and packed up before we left. I quickly got rid of the rental car at the nearest drop-off point and we drove most of the way in Noah's car. We listened to music, Noah singing Taylor Swift while drumming his tattooed fingers on the steering wheel, and I watched him sleepily out of the corner of my eye, my head resting on the headrest of the seat. It was especially good that I didn't have to drive much, because I didn't sleep well that night. Although I reassured myself that nothing had happened - and this was also confirmed by the fact that Noah showed the same - negative emotions still swirled in me. Guilt that Maya deserves better than me. I'm afraid one wrong word or touch and I'll lose Noah because there's no attraction worth even risking our friendship for. I started whipping myself over and over when I thought about it. I can't act so stupid, I'm a grown man who has been in a serious relationship for almost eight months now, not a stupid little teenager who has no idea about the world.

“Everything is alright? You're very quiet today," Noah remarked, turning down the radio, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I slept badly,” I answered in a hoarse, sleepy voice, and at least I didn't lie to him with that.

“We will stop at the next gas station. I'll buy you a coffee,” he promised and smiled kindly at me, which I tried to return.

"I might not be the best company today," I said apologetically.

“You don't have to talk to be good company,” he looked at me sideways from under his sunglasses. "It calms me down when you're near me," he added much more quietly.

I pursed my lips, closed my eyes under my sunglasses, and wished he wouldn't be so nice to me all the time. It was as if his comment had fueled that strange feeling in me, which was pleasant, but I had to suppress it as soon as possible, because it would only cause my loss in the long run.

After a few minutes we pulled into a gas station parking lot, but Noah didn't get out of the car immediately. He unbuckled his seat belt, took a deep breath, and turned to me.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he began, which immediately made me pay attention to him, and suddenly the dream escaped my eyes. “My morning wasn't the best, and then…” he shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes “and then Karin called me saying she wanted to meet.”

Oh. I didn't expect him to talk about it, even though I could have learned by now that if I gave him enough time, sooner or later he would pour his heart out.

“What did you say to her?” I asked breathlessly.

“I said it's over. Everything, that was between us.”

My mouth twisted into a proud smile.

“I think you made the right decision. You've already finished it once, there would be no point to continue and hurt each other.”

"Yeah…" he said thoughtfully.

I swallowed the thoughts of how badly the girl had affected him, and that he could find a thousand better women than her if he wanted to, because I really didn't really know what kind of mental state he was in, and I felt that it would not be constructive at that moment.

“If you want to talk about this or anything else, I will be happy to listen to you at any time,”I said instead of my judgmental thoughts. Noah's grateful look made it worth it.

“Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for caring so much about me.”

“For a start a big cappuccino will do,” I joked with him to lighten both of our melancholic moods. Noah smiled but still didn't go. I could see he wanted to speak about something else.

“About what happened in the afternoon… I think it's also due to my fucked up mood.”

I blinked a few times and remembered our conversation two days before when we slept in the same room after stargazing and Noah apologized even then, though he didn't say exactly why. I felt that it would be no different now, but something told me that it would be better for both of us if I didn't mess this up. Besides, I felt equally responsible.

"Yesterday afternoon was particularly good," I said honestly, because no matter how messed up the ending was, we laughed and talked a lot before it, everything was almost the same as before.

Noah pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and scanned my face.

“So isn't that why you're in a bad mood?”

I'm in a bad mood because we almost kissed in the lake, completely attached to each other's bodies? Because I almost cheated on my girlfriend with my best friend? Or because I loved every minute when our bodies touched? Is the reason for this messed up mood that I get into the room, half lying on the floor, because my cock was throbbing so much after hearing his moans that I didn't even have the opportunity to sit on the bed? Or because of all the fucking sexy things my brain was creating and he was the main character in all of them? I have no idea what exactly the question was about.

“I'm tired, I could sleep here in the car, only my neck would hurt,” I answered. “Tomorrow, after a long sleep, everything will be much better.”

I really believed in this, because when I'm rested, it's much easier to cope with any test that life throws at me. Maybe I felt tired and bored, that was just a bad move and I could screw everything up - if I haven't done it yet - but tomorrow, fresh, I will definitely see things in a better light.

"Okay," Noah agreed thoughtfully, then grabbed his wallet and hopped out of the car. “A cappuccino, as you said. Anything else?” he asked with a smile as he leaned in the door.

“A chocolate chip cookie, please.” I returned his smile when he nodded.

He put on his sunglasses and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head. While he went into the store, I got out to stretch my legs and smoke a cigarette.

I was already getting back in the car when I saw Noah exit the small shop at the gas station and start heading back, but it seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed. He was stopped by a middle-aged woman with long red hair and a younger girl. I could tell by their body language how excited they were when they started talking. His presence has probably made their day better, but maybe even their whole week. I watched him as he bent down a little so the height difference would not be too disturbing, as he smiled restrainedly, but kindly, and paid attention to them. I felt a pleasant feeling move in my chest because I was in such an advantageous position that I could receive this attention at any time. Noah nodded, then smiled as they took a few selfies, he held the phone with his long arm. He pulled his hoodie up over his forearms, the muscles on which were tense and his dark tattoos glistened in the sunlight. His hair fell forward as they checked to see if the pictures were okay, and I wondered if I had ever felt as much desire for another man as I did for him. The answer was clearly no.

In high school, we were told a thousand times that we were gay because of our long hair and eccentric style, but I never seriously thought about the possibility, because for me the girls were interesting enough, anyone could say anything. Our friends also looked at us strangely when they found out that I lived with my best friend, but they didn't ask about it too much. Did Noah feel the same way? I remember a long time ago, at a party, he kissed a guy, but it was just a silly, drunken challenge, not a real kiss, and it didn't last more than a few seconds. He always had girlfriends and it never occurred to me that he might even be bisexual. And then there was Noah's mom…who loved to attack our friendship and all the good things that happened to her son.

It all started when two boys started teasing Noah at school, and one of my friends and I listened to it all. They made rude comments about his hair and figure, and when that didn't get enough of an impact and reaction, they started teasing him about having Asian blood in his veins. He was told that it was indeterminate whether he was a boy or a girl, just like in Japanese anime. I think this was the point where even though I hated conflict, I had to step in because I absolutely loved anime. And I didn't understand why you couldn't leave a boy alone who just wanted to write his homework.

It only took a couple of well-selected sentences from Davis and a few condescending glances from me to make the young boys go away in defeat. They wisely decided that it was pointless to confront the three of us, especially since my friend and I were several years older. We had a fist-bump with Davis, who immediately left for class, and only then did I turn to the boy, who got up from the bench and started packing his things back into his bag. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, his movements looking nervous. I've never been the type to initiate acquaintances. I hated big company and could only really open up to a small circle of friends, but… I felt I had to open up to him. Little did I know then that I was making the best decision of my life.

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

"I could have dealt with them alone," he declared instead of introducing himself. I wasn't mad at him though, I knew he was still in passive aggressive defense mode.

“I know,” I answered and smiled cautiously. I didn't want him to feel like I was laughing at him. “But I am desperately collecting friends who like anime.”

With this, I managed to remove some of the storm clouds from his face.

“How many friends do you have like that, Nick?” he asked with interest, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I hope you will be the first,” I answered honestly, for which I received a bright smile in response.

"Noah," he said, twisting his fingers, turning his gaze to the ground. "I mean, that's my name," he added, laughing nervously, looking up at me again.

"Noah," I said his name, just to know how it felt. I loved it.

In the weeks that followed, Noah easily fit into my group of friends. No one really noticed that he was three years younger than us. Even then he was almost as tall as me, and much more mature than his age would have suggested.

The summer holidays were approaching, the students were less and less focused on studying and wanted to stay more and more outdoors. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring from our last class on Friday and it would be the weekend. Not because I wanted to party - I've never been a party animal - but so that I can finally get a good night's sleep and draw as much as I like. I was decorating the edge of my notebook throughout math class, and when the bell finally rang, I was one of the first to get up, threw my things into my bag, said goodbye to the two boys I had been friends with for years, and stepped out into the hallway. Noah was leaning against the railing waiting for me, drinking a can of Coke and smiling when he saw me.

"Thanks for waiting," I told him as we walked out of the building. “This math class was dead boring.”

"I can't say that this was the most exciting day of my life either," he answered, smoothing his shoulder-length brown hair behind his ears. “But maybe it will get better from now on.”

“For sure. It is even more fun to sit in the church and listen to the teacher about nonsense.”

"Brr, don't even mention the church," he said with disgust on his face. I laughed to myself as he wrinkled his freckled nose, pursed his lips, and was visibly sick of even the thought. He said that his grandparents, with whom he lived, were very religious and forced him to participate in church work, even if it’s about repairs or fundraising.

We walked down to the front of the building when a bunch of young boys turned to us and giggled as we passed them. I saw in Noah that he was uncertain for a fleeting moment, but then he kept his head up and walked confidently.

“You shouldn't show off with me,” he remarked when we left the gate. “You must have noticed that I am not the most popular student.”

“Don't think I'm afraid of your classmates in diapers,” I snorted, touching my pockets. I couldn't wait to finally light a cigarette. I found the box with the lighter inside and took out a cigarette. I noticed Noah reach out his hand as well, causing my eyebrows to rise to the center of my forehead.

“What is that?” Noah asked.

“Aren't you too young for that?”

He just rolled his eyes, then grabbed my wrist where I was holding the box and took out a cigarette. He lit it with practiced movements and blew the first puff of smoke into my face, making me roll my eyes.

“Just because you're older, you don't have to play the adult.”

“Just because I smoke is not an example to be followed,”I retorted, but I couldn't take this conversation seriously either, and by the end we both laughed at each other.

“Don't worry, I already smoked before I met you.”

“Huh,” I squeezed my hand dramatically towards my chest. “Now a huge stone fell from my heart. I was already beginning to think that I had led you into trouble during our short acquaintance.”

“My grandparents won't be coming home until Sunday,” Noah explained as we got to their house. I looked up at the two-story building, which was surrounded by a large, well-kept garden, and nodded approvingly. It was the first time I visited them, only three weeks had passed since we met in the schoolyard.

"I guessed you were a little prince," I said with feigned seriousness. The house was about twice the size of the one I lived in with my parents and four siblings. Noah snorted, but didn't answer anything, he just opened the door with his key, and then we entered the hall one after the other. Even next to the coat hanger, the face of Jesus greeted me on the wall. It seemed that Noah was not exaggerating when he spoke about his grandparents' religiosity. I kicked off my shoes and continued to look around while Noah struggled with his tangled shoelaces.

“Who is she?” I asked, pointing to a beautiful woman in one of the paintings. Her brown hair was at least down to her waist and she wore a blood red cloak over her long dress which she held in her hands at her chest.

"Mary Magdalene," Noah answered as he straightened up. “She…”

"Many people believe that she was Jesus' lover," said a woman's voice behind us, and we both turned on our heels in surprise. "Hello, I'm Noah's mother, Elizabeth," the owner of the voice extended her hand to me with a soft smile on her lips. Her light brown hair was tied back in a bun, her nails were painted bright pink, and she wore a short black dress that showed off her long thighs. She looked barely over thirty, I would never have guessed she was Noah's mother. I would have guessed it was his sister.

“Good afternoon. I'm Nicholas,” I shook her hand politely. Her skin was hot and slightly clammy, her grip strong. Then we both turned to Noah, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, not moving.

“Don't you welcome your mother?” asked the woman, raising the glass filled with whiskey she was holding to her mouth with a smile.

“Why are you here? “Noah asked, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don't have the right to visit my son?” Since Noah didn't appreciate any reaction, she drained the rest of the drink from her glass and continued: “Your grandmother mentioned that you will be alone. I thought this would be the perfect time to get back together.”

When Noah told me about his bad relationship with his mother, I thought they didn't get along because of some sort of teenage rebellion. I never thought that Noah could act so cold with someone when I got to know him so friendly and kind in the last few weeks.

I followed him up the stairs with furrowed brows as he started without saying a word to his mother. When we entered his room, he immediately locked the door and collapsed on the bed, broken.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here.”

“It's okay,” I reassured him immediately and fell down next to him. "She doesn't seems that bad," I added, but I saw that pained smile on Noah's face that I haven't been able to get out of my head since, and I kept seeing it in my mind as his mother stabbed him in the back over and over again just to see him suffer.

I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf to look through his manga. He said he would be happy to lend me any of them if I wanted to read them, and I chose two. Afterwards, I sat back next to him and we were talking about school, when my sketchbook, in which I used to draw, came up.

“Shall I show you?” I asked Noah. His face lit up as he nodded, so I reached for the ceiling and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Noah leaned very close to my shoulder, which was decorated with a fresh tattoo. My first tattoo, a beautifully crafted bird wing.

“I want to tattoo my entire arm,” I explained to him, while he touched my skin, as if he wanted to test whether it feels different over the tattoo. - I designed this too, and if I collect the money for it, we will continue. Maybe one day I'll be a tattoo artist, who knows…”

Noah nodded and struggled to break his gaze to look up at me.

“Your drawings are very good, there is no doubt that you have a talent for it,” he said honestly. “I want a tattoo too.” He bit his lip as he thought. Then he slowly pulled up his t-shirt and placed his index finger on one of the small scars on his chest.

“Do you think these could be covered? There was this car accident and… I broke a few ribs, and then in the hospital they put tubes in… here too,” he smoothed a hand over the side of his chest. “Although the doctors said that it will almost completely disappear by the time I grow up, I still want something on it.”

I didn't know that particular accident was so serious that he lost his father and everyone died except him. I had no idea, it had been many months have passed before he told me about that summer day.

“They can surely make it disappear,” I answered him, while my gaze involuntarily fell on his ribs, which almost pierced his skin. Noah might have noticed because he quickly readjusted his shirt and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. I hated myself for making him uncomfortable, it was the last thing I wanted. I also put on my t-shirt and smiled at him from under my eyelashes.

“Can I have some tea now?” I referred to his offer from half an hour before. Noah nodded enthusiastically, and while he ran down to the kitchen, I picked up one of the manga and started flipping through the pages. He left the door ajar, so I heard him approach cautiously after five minutes, probably to avoid spilling the contents of the mug on himself. I looked down at the bottom of the page I was reading, noted the page number, and closed the book. Then I heard Noah's mother's voice. His speech was slurred, I could tell even though he was half-whispering.

“Your grandmother must be proud of you for being gay. She must be happy to tell it in church.” The smile immediately melted from my face and I sat frozen on the bed. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Elizabeth didn't even try to suppress her voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noah said quietly. His voice was laced with pleading and fear. My throat tightened. “Please…”

“More about who. Nicholas, if I remember his name correctly. Why would you bring a boy here and shut him up in your room?”

“Nick is my friend.”

“Who would want to be friends with you, baby?” asked the woman almost regretfully. “You are so naive, Noah. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”

My hands were clenched into fists, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and yet I didn't move. I was held back by my good upbringing, by the fact that my parents taught me to be obedient to adults. Later, I regretted a thousand times that I didn't stand by Noah and get him out of that family right away. That place was equal to hell on earth. I heard a door close and Noah finally entered the room. His hands were shaking, the tea between his fingers spilled onto the floor, but his face remained completely emotionless. I jumped off the bed and took the mug from him so he wouldn't drop it. This time, I locked the door and took out a pocket of tissue from my bag. He accepted without a word, wiped his hand, then threw it away and we sat next to each other on the bed.

"If you don't feel like staying, I won't be mad if you go home," he said without looking at me. He knew I heard every word of the conversation. His fingers dug into his thighs and his face went completely pale. I didn't really know what to do in such a situation. I felt uncomfortable, I was angry, but I wanted to help him feel good again. This was the most important thing, because over the weeks I slowly began to become completely addicted to his smile. I put the tea on the table and turned to him.

“Would you like me to go home?” I asked him because I had to know what he wanted.

Noah finally looked up at me. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes, his lips trembled.

“No. I want you to stay.”

His voice was childish, not the confident teenager I knew from school. I quickly realized that it was just a disguise, but I was relieved to hear his answer, because I would not have liked to leave him alone with that woman.

“Then I'll stay,” I answered and slowly smiled. It took a few seconds for him to return the smile, and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, I was satisfied with that. “Which anime would you like?” I stood up and started watching the DVDs packed under the TV.

“Choose something. Surprise me,” he replied with a slight challenge in his eyes.

It was the first and last time we went to their place after school. Afterwards, we always ended up at our house, and Noah didn't seem bothered by my loud brother, my hysterical little sisters, or the fact that the hot water kept running out late at night and we were forced to take cold showers if we were immersed in the conversation. If the milk ran out in the morning, he made his porridge with water and didn't complain if we had toast for lunch. I noticed how strange it was when mom or I hugged him. Like he doesn't know what to do with it all and is confused. But it only took a few weeks for all of that to change and he almost started demanding touches.

Noah walked to the car and turned back to make sure no one was following him before getting in. I followed his approaching steps with half-closed eyes, trying to figure out what had changed. Where was the tipping point when I started finding him attractive. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't figure it out and that only made me more frustrated. Noah got in and handed me the coffee and the paper bag, then pulled the hood off his head.

“I hope it didn't get too cold,” he said with an apologetic smile.

I tiredly returned his smile and handed the biscuit back to him.

“Half of it is yours. And thank you.”

He didn't argue for a second that I wanted to share the dessert with him. He began to eat the cookie with gusto, while I drank my coffee thoughtfully.

“Noah…we'll be fine, right?” I suddenly asked out of nowhere. My voice sounded so scared that I was surprised by it.

He looked at me confused, with a small crumb on his mouth that I was tempted to wipe off, but luckily he licked it off before I could move. He swallowed the bite and looked deep into my eyes.

“Whatever happens, we will always be here for each other. You are the only sure point in my life. Believe me, I will do everything to be your sure point.”

I nodded and closed my eyes again. I think that was enough to make me feel better, if only a little.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #jolly karlsson #nick folio #nick ruffilo #noah sebastian #bad omens band #nicholas ruffilo #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

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got-into-worm-by-mistake · 3 months

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Agitation 3.4 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

As I heard the front door open, I snapped the phone shut and jammed it into my pocket. I’d apologize for hanging up later. I definitely didn’t want my dad to see the phone. I didn’t think he would stop me from owning one, but ever since my mom’s death, cell phones had carried strong negative connotations. That, and I’d have to explain where I got it and how I’d paid for it.

I get that Danny has issues with phones, but that's nearly criminally irresponsible parenting, given the way Brockton Bay is.

I’d promised myself I would go the day after tomorrow. Face the music.

What music? I can't imagine her teachers will care. Her bullies might, but really, what the fuck else can they do if they still want to not get caught? Not much more than they already have.

(Did I jinx it? I think I probably jinxed it)

Rachel had been out of the apartment, the others weren’t specific on why and I wasn’t interested enough to risk looking too curious by asking.

Right now, Taylor's relationship with the Undersiders has a very "my friends... and Zoidberg" feel to it.

I had elected for both a combat knife and a telescoping police baton.

The Baton I see so often in every rendition of the Bank Scene! AYYY!

I kind of liked that it was a bit spartan, because it sort of fit with how I didn’t plan to be around that long while still feeling weirdly appreciative at being accepted as a part of the group.

There's nothing weird about being glad to have a place where you're actually wanted, Taylor. Reject heroism. Embrace villainy. Return to bug!

Alec’s movies from Earth-Aleph, the alternate Earth that our Earth had been communicating with since Professor Haywire tore a hole between realities. Media was one of the few things that could be traded back and forth through the hole. Long story short, you could get books, movies and DVDs of TV shows from the other world, if you were willing to accept the price tag. The benefit? I got to spend the afternoon seeing how the other universe had handled episodes one and two of the Star Wars films.

First mention of Earth-Aleph, and yes, a source of all the bits in fanfic where people reference Earth-Aleph media!

I'd have to go back to the first mention of Earth-Bet, but I feel like for most casual uses in-universe, people would still just say 'Earth' to refer to whatever their Earth is? You'd only clarify when it matters to specify?

Eh, minor thing, probably as much for clarity of readability as anything else.

By the time my dad got in, I had pork chops defrosted, dusted with lemon and pepper and sitting in a frying pan, with vegetables in the microwave. Cooking was sort of something you started doing when you had only one parent, unless you really, really liked takeout.

Not necessarily, but common, yeah.

He tried to hide it, but I could see a bit of disappointment. “Of course,” he said, “Your new friends?”

I get it. He's been trying to make an effort lately, but he started too late, and Taylor is instead a villain now. He doesn't know that, but he both wants to let her have friends, instead of smother her and stuff, and wants to keep her close to reconnect.

My mind started racing to anticipate questions and come up with plausible details. Should I use their real names? Or at least, the names they had given me? I wasn’t sure if that would be a breach of trust. I decided to use their real names for much the same reason I’d decided to use my own with them. It just prevented disasters if my dad ever happened to meet them, which was a terrifying thought, or if they called for me.

QUICK! THINK OF THE RIGHT LIES!

I was also under the impression that the courts didn’t always unmask capes when they arrested them. I wasn’t entirely sure what was up with that. It seemed like something to ask Lisa about.

I feel like this is a core enough element of the setting that if Taylor did any research at all, she'd have found it, and she supposedly did a good amount of preplanning?

Like, I get that this is a set up for future exposition, but...

“A boy, eh?” My dad wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Dad, stop! It’s not like that,” I protested.

I mean, I wouldn't say I ship Brian/Taylor, but her budding crush is kinda cute and entertaining.

And Wildbow will make me suffer for thinking that, because All Readers of Worm Shall Suffer

My dad smiled, “Impressive. Tell me they’re all excellent students that can serve as good role models for you.” I could have choked. Good role models? Them?

Heh heh heh

Arguably, Taylor would be a good influence on them.

Maybe.

One hopes.

I raised my eyebrows in question as I chewed. They had, kind of, but I couldn’t really say ‘They used Mom’s death to fuck with my head’ without having to explain the Emma thing.

TELL HIM TELL HIM TELL HIM

You’d think I would feel better, after opening up, but I didn’t. I felt frustrated, angry, awkward. It was a reminder that I couldn’t have a real conversation with my dad like I used to be able to

This, Taylor, is entirely a problem of your own creation though?

This time, though, instead of turning up towards the Boardwalk, I headed south.

Didn't an earlier bit imply that the Docks were just off the main road of the Boardwalk?

“Wasn’t sure if you would show up,” a male voice broke the silence. I turned to face Armsmaster, “I’m sorry. I had to hang up on your receptionist. Real life called.”

The Mental image of Armsmaster having a receptionist does not compute.

“I need to call in a favor.”

Well this will go splendidly!

#Taylor Hebert #Worm #Wormblr #Kylia Reads Worm #Agitation 3.4

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dalishessence · 7 months

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From the Nest to Flying Free

Book: Open Heart

Main Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Dr. Samantha Shepard)

Summary:

"Would you have asked me to the mall if we'd met when we were her age?" "In a heartbeat. Would you have said yes?" "Of course! I would have had a major crush on you." "It would have been mutual." In another life, Bryce Lahela met Samantha Shepard when he was nothing more than a "surfer who got good grades without trying", and Samantha was nothing more than the Lahela's live-in staff's daughter.

Rating: Teen (might change later in the story).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends to Lovers, First Love, First Relationship, Alternate Timelines, Flashbacks included, Dual POV.

Also available on AO3 here.

Chapter 1: Hatchling in the Nest

“Clear blue water

High tide came and brought you in

And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will…” ~ Taylor Swift

Bryce

2019 ~ 26 years old

Bryce hit the gas, his car speeding up despite the 20 mph speed limit sign. He was itching to get to one of the last, if not the last parking spot of Edenbrook Hospital, and he noticed another driver eyeing the spot. He blew past the car, nearly hitting another car, a luxury sedan, in the process – whose driver looked mildly annoyed – before sliding into the parking space and shutting off the engine.

The driver of the first car looked at him furiously, before driving deeper into the parking lot in search of another empty space. Meanwhile, the luxury sedan pulled up into a reserved parking spot that read Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

Shit, Bryce thought, but couldn’t help but chuckle. I almost hit an attending… Almost. He grinned, raising a hand in apology to the attending.

Dr. Ramsey narrowed his eyes, rolled them and shook his head slightly, before locking his car and going inside.

Bryce chuckled, and pulled his phone from its car holder. It was 5:45 a.m. and in the span of the last half hour, his phone had blown up with messages. There was a message from Alex, his best friend, wishing him good luck today. He smiled a genuine smile before texting Alex back.

There were also almost fifty messages in the “Edenbrook Surgical Interns” group that he’d joined a few days ago. Of course, none of them had actually ever met before – they’d all meet today – but he’d found the link to the whatsapp group on the Facebook group that someone had created for the 2019 generation of surgical interns in Edenbrook Hospital. So far, he’d talked to several people, and most seemed pretty nice. Bryce still knew they were his competition, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to be friendly. Anyhow, right now, several people were asking for directions, a couple others were already at the hospital and asking if anyone wanted to meet up so as to not go in alone… Bryce grinned and shook his head, wondering if anyone who was scared to go in alone was actually cut out to be a surgeon… before reminding himself not to judge and keep it friendly. Those who’d make the cut will make the cut, and those who won’t… It wasn’t his business. He’d make the cut and he knew it.

Bryce grinned and answered a couple of texts, before going to meet up with a couple of the interns who were by the basketball court. He got out of his car, shooting a grin at a couple nurses who were outside having a smoke and looking at him curiously – or at least, he thought they were nurses by the color of their scrubs. One of them rolled her eyes good naturedly, and the other grinned at him back.

He chuckled before making his way to the basketball court, and found a small group of seven or eight surgical interns chatting. He stepped up, introduced himself and shook hands with a couple of them. He immediately memorized a couple of names and faces. There was Rosa, who looked pretty serious and professional in her white blouse and blue-green blazer, and was one the few that shook his hand hard. As far as first impressions go, he thought she would probably be his biggest competition. There was also Thomas, who looked pretty friendly, clapping Bryce’s before adjusting his glasses that had slipped down his nose. The others didn’t make much of an impression.

They talked for a while, before someone suggested a friendly game of ball to get rid of the first day jitters. Bryce looked at his phone and since they still had time before orientation he agreed to a game. Thomas also joined, and two other interns whose names Bryce had already forgotten. Oh well, I’ll learn them during the year anyway, he guessed. Anyhow, between the four of them, they had enough players for a friendly game of two on two.

Bryce paired up with Thomas and the other two interns paired up, and the game began. One of the other interns had the ball and passed it to his teammate, but Bryce swooped in and took it. He feinted a pass to Thomas, and the other rushed at Thomas in an attempt to block him. In that moment, Bryce seamlessly turned, ran closer to the hoop and scored.

“Whoo!” He raised his arms, and Thomas ran to clap him high five.

A few of the other surgical interns watching cheered or clapped.

“1-0!” Thomas yelled.

The other interns laughed good naturedly, and the friendly game continued until Rosa yelled from the sidelines, “Guys! It’s 6:30! We’re going inside to register, get out I.D.’s and change!”

“Cool! Cool, cool, cool!” Thomas yelled.

“Raincheck?” One of the other interns asked.

They all nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go with them. Don’t wanna be late.” Bryce yelled.

Once inside, they were greeted by a tall, blond and blue eyed senior resident. “Fresh meat!” She chuckled. “I mean, interns! Welcome to the party. I won’t ask your names, or bother to learn them, because most of you probably won’t be here by the end of the year. My name’s Dr. Constance Davenport and I’m in charge of babysitting you this year. Now, come on, this way. I’ll take you to get your I.D.’s then show you to the locker room.”

Bryce grinned, not at all offended by her attitude. Some of his fellow interns were already grumbling or rolling their eyes at her, but Bryce knew that in this field, in this hospital, in this program, that level of confidence had to be backed up by talent. So the fact that she was that cocky meant she was probably that good, and she’d fricking earned it.

Anyhow, he followed his resident, got his picture taken and told her his name.

“Lahela… Hawaiian?” Dr. Davenport asked.

“Yep. Born and raised.”

Davenport nodded. “Huh… Let’s hope you make it, Lahela.” She tossed him his I.D. with a challenging grin. Then she looked back and saw that the line of interns had somehow gotten longer and sighed. Then she looked back to the group of interns who’d already had their I.D.’s and were waiting off to the side, and sighed. “Okay, I’m not going to have time to get you all your I.D.’s and show you around and stuff, so you…” She pointed to Bryce, Rosa, Thomas and their group. “The locker rooms are from this hall, through that waiting room, then you take a left, a right, another left and you’ll see it. Go.”

The surgical interns looked at each other and went on their way. Thomas, who claimed he had a good sense of direction, led the way. He actually did and soon they were in the locker room. Bryce pulled out his phone to check his Notes app, where he had written his locker number. He also took a clean towel from a towel rack nearby and went to his locker, which was right next to a cute Indian girl’s locker, mercilessly shoving a vintage leather jacket into her locker. As she saw him approaching, she looked him up and down critically.

He gestured to his locker and shot her a charming grin. “Hey. Looks like we’re neighbors. Bryce Lahela. Surgical intern.”

She merely looked at his hand. “A scalpel jockey, huh?” The corners of her lips twitched, and Bryce knew this was friendly banter. “Jackie Varma. Internal medicine.”

“You’re one of those, huh?” Bryce smiled teasingly.

“One of the actual intelligent doctors? Damn right.” She grinned right back.

Bryce immediately liked her.

Jackie sniffed the air. “You should shower before orientation, scalpel jockey.”

“Do you want me to take my shirt off? I mean, since we’re locker neighbors, you’ll have plenty of time to admire all this.” He gestured to himself.

Jackie did not seem amused as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, joy, all of my dreams have come true.” She said in a bored, monotone voice.

Bryce laughed, before grabbing his towel and heading in for a quick shower. He’d worked up a sweat during their brief basketball game.

After a quick scrub, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his locker, where he saw Jackie was already terrorizing someone else: a tall woman, clearly another intern, with long black hair that was dyed red at the ends.

“... How’d you make it through med school without ever seeing a bra before?”

“I’m sorry!” Bryce heard this other intern say as he approached them. “I just wasn’t expecting–”

The woman turned, bumping into his chest. Bryce chuckled, steading her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Go easy on her, Jackie. It’s the first day for all of us.”

For some reason, Bryce felt the woman tense immediately, and he briefly thought that maybe she didn’t like to be touched. But then she looked up, and he saw a very, very familiar face staring back at him, sending his heart into overdrive.

“Sam?!”

************************************************************************

1999 ~ 6 years old

"Bryce! Get down here, please!" His mother, Anita, yelled from downstairs. "Come meet Luna!"

Bryce looked up from his pull-back car -- or rather, his pull-back car parts. He hadn’t broken it. Not exactly. It’d just stopped working, and Bryce had wanted to figure out why. And what better way to do that than take it apart? But so far, he’d been on it for most of the morning, and he still couldn’t really figure out why. When he’d taken it apart, he was excited to find all these little gears inside, all different colors and connected to each other, and this metallic spring inside that he still wasn't sure what it did exactly…

“Bryce!”

The little boy got up with a sigh, and stood up. He’d come back and fix his toy car later. Better go see what Mom wanted now. She got annoyed when she had to repeat herself. And so he made his way down the stairs, only to find his mother sitting down on the couch next to a woman he’d never seen before. The woman was small, with long blond hair tied back in a braid, but what Bryce liked most were her eyes. She had pretty green eyes...

“Bryce! There you are! Didn’t you hear me calling?” His mom stood, the lady following her lead.

“Sorry.” Bryce mumbled.

“It’s okay, hon. Come meet Luna.” Anita smiled and gestured to the woman… Luna.

Luna smiled at him and knelt down to his eye level. “Hello, Bryce. I’m Luna.”

Bryce smiled back at her, his “megawatt smile” as Mom would say, before stepping up. “Hi, Luna. Who are you?”

Luna looked up to his mom, chuckling.

“Luna is our new housekeeper,” Anita told him. “She’s going to be helping me with the house, the cooking, the cleaning…”

“But Mom, you don’t do any of those things.” Bryce said.

Both women laughed for some reason he didn’t really understand -- he’d said nothing but the truth -- but he smiled, anyway. Maybe he was just funny.

“Well… he’s got a point there.” Anita smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“Children. Mine also just blurt out whatever goes through their heads.” Luna agreed, laughing brightly, before turning back to Bryce. “How old are you, Bryce?”

He raised his whole hand with his five fingers outstretched, like the big boy he was. “Five.” He said proudly.

Luna’s eyes widened excitedly. “Five?! No!”

“Yep!” He nodded eagerly.

“Guess what?! I have two kids and my kids are five, too!” Luna told him, dropping her jaw.

“Hear that, Bryce? You’ll have two new friends!” Anita told him, and he nodded eagerly. She lowered her voice, but Bryce heard her anyway. “I’m so happy we found you and your husband. Not just because of the jobs, but when you told us you had twins the same age as him… He gets so lonely here in this big house. He doesn’t really have many chances to socialize with other children his age, other than the occasional playdate.”

Luna laughed, and gently patted Anita’s arm. “Oh, well. My twins are a handful but I’m sure they’re going to get along just fine.” She turned back to Bryce. “Bryce, would you like to meet Sam and Alex?”

“Okay!” Bryce nodded, reaching for Luna's outstretched hand.

He took Luna’s hand with one of his and his mother’s hand in the other, and let both women lead him to the smaller house that was behind his. This house wasn’t really that small, it was just that his house was so big. It had a big backyard for him to play in, and a pool, and farther away it even had stables where the horses slept in.

Sometimes Bryce got lonely in his house, though. It was really big and had a lot of fun places inside and outside, but he always had to play alone because his mom and dad were always working, and Lucy had… Returned? Retried? Bryce couldn’t remember what his mother had said. Anyway, she had gotten older and she had to stop working in his house. That had made Bryce a bit sad, since Lucy always played with him when she wasn’t busy.

But now, his mom had found Luna, and Luna had two kids he would be able to play with! Bryce was really excited. He always wanted a brother, but his mom always said no. Maybe he could ask Luna’s kids to be his brothers. And instead of only one, he would have two now!

“Bryce,” Luna told him, squeezing his hand slightly when they came upon the small house.

There was a car and a truck parked outside, and a big man with black hair was carrying a giant box down from the truck like it weighed nothing. He set it down when he saw them, and walked towards them, nodding at his mom. "Mrs. Lahela."

"Jack." His mom nodded back.

Up close, he looked even bigger! He was bigger than his dad! Bryce was pretty sure this was the biggest man he'd ever seen. He hoped he would grow up to be as big when he got older.

The man, Jack, caught him staring and smiled. Like Luna, he knelt down to Bryce's eye level. "And who is this?"

"I'm Bryce!"

"It's nice to meet you, Bryce."

The man offered Bryce his giant hand, but Bryce wasn't scared and he shook it like he'd seen his dad do. The man's palm engulfed his hand, but he still shook it as hard as he could.

"I'm Jack."

"Jack is my husband, and the twins' father. He’s going to be your family’s driver too." Luna added.

Bryce nodded. "Hi, Jack. Are you going to drive me to school?"

Jack laughed. “Yes, Bryce, I am.”

"Honey, where are the kids? I wanted them to meet Bryce." Luna told him.

Jack smiled one last time at Bryce, before standing back up. "They're upstairs. Want me to go get them?"

"Please. Thanks, love." Luna nodded with a gentle smile.

Jack nodded and winked at Bryce, before going inside. Bryce watched him walk away -- he looked so cool! -- and tried to wink, too. He closed both eyes, scrunching them up a couple of times, before finally getting the wink right. He hoped he looked as cool as Jack did.

A few moments later, Jack finally came out, holding out a boy's hand… and a girl's. The boy had blond hair just like Luna, while the little girl had long black hair like Jack.

Bryce raised his eyebrows, confused. Sam and Alex were boys' names…

"Bryce… this is Sam," Jack raised his hand, dangling the little girl's arms as she looked shyly at Bryce. "And this is Alex." Jack repeated the motion with his son.

Alex waved excitedly with his other hand.

"But Sam's a boy's name." Bryce blurted out.

"No, it's not!" The girl, Sam, glared at him, her shyness forgotten at the insult. "It's short for Samantha! Samantha Keilani Shepard!"

All the grown ups laughed, while Samantha glared at him, pouting.

Samantha.

Bryce had never heard of that name. It was a big name. It was too big for such a little girl. No wonder they'd shortened it to Sam.

"Heh. Easy, Sammy. Bryce probably didn't know that." Jack squeezed her hand softly, smiling down at him.

"Sorry, Samantha." Bryce mumbled. His mom squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Sam let out a sigh, before her gaze softened. "It's okay… You can call me Sam, if you want.”

Bryce smiled at that. He liked Sam. Samantha was too long for her. “Okay, Sam.”

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Bryce.”

“Bryce…” Sam repeated.

“I like it. Sounds cool.” The boy, Alex, said.

“Do you want to be friends, Bryce?” Sam asked softly, looking a bit shy again.

Bryce brightened up instantly. "Sure!"

"Cool! Wanna see my room?! It’s upstairs." Alex asked.

"Okay!"

"You can see mine next!" Sam added.

"Mom, can I invite them to our house so they can see my room too?" Bryce asked, looking up at his mother hopefully.

She chuckled, before nodding. "Of course, baby."

"Thanks, mom! Do you guys wanna come to my house after? You can see my room, and then the pool…"

"You have a pool?!" Alex asked, his jaw dropping.

"Yeah! A big pool!"

"Come on, let's go!" Sam took Bryce's hand. Alex took her other hand, and she began leading them both inside.

Bryce followed them, very happy with his new friends. Even if one of them had turned out to be a girl instead of a boy, Bryce still had a feeling they'd all get along just fine.

#open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x f!mc #bryce lahela

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ess-presso · 2 years

Note

actually fuck tumblr fr cant believe they deleted my ask smh.

fear not im back :)

fic rec for u! it was only a kiss! by remuslives23 (wolfstar, they drink some firewhiskey and accidentally kiss. v cute)

miss taylor: the last great american dynasty, state of grace, & wonderland <3

i'll reanswer ur qs from last time:

ive got no allergies! that i know of at least. im safe for now. i truly fear the day i find out im suddenly allergic to a food i love (can that even happen?? i hope not)

i totally believe in fate, i think everything kinda happens for a reason and everyone meets people for a reason. if its meant to be itll be, and if its not meant to be then its just not meant to be. some things (most things) are out of our control so whats the point in trying to control what happens to us and who we meet. i say we go with the flow (i say this as the most anxious person on the planet who cant handle change or unfamiliarity)

i accidentally messed up a good friendship a few years ago, basically i wasnt there for someone when they needed me (to be fair we were both going thru it so i didnt even realize) but theyre happier now and so am i so all is well.

i wake up bright and early (its almost noon) i gracefully get out of bed (i drag myself out of bed) i make myself a hearty nutritious meal (i make coffee and some toast if its a good day) i get ready for class (i change into sweatpants and brush my teeth) i head to campus (my class is online. i stay in bed for the rest of the day)

fav superhero forever spiderman & daredevil. and thor cause hes a dumbass and funny but PETER PARKER & MATT MURDOCK MY LOVES!!!

id switch lives with someone crazy wealthy like elon musk or jeff bezos so i can drain their bank accounts and donate to people in need and solve world hunger <3 or maybe timothee chalamet cause id love to know what goes on in his mind hes so funny sometimes.

i wish i had written just lovers by zar bc that fic will forever be my favourite thing ever. its just so damn good and to be the author of it would be truly an honour.

i wish i had written maybe the iliad & odyssey cause 1. theyre freaking epic & 2. homer mightve not been a real person so if i was homer i would be an mysterious enigma.

ive never been in love actually, despite being a hopeless romantic. ive liked people but it never got further than that so ig im just waiting for the right person to come along !

im so loud as a drunk. i WILL sing along to anything playing and i WILL dance horribly. im also giggly cause everything becomes hilarious to me. i do sometimes get confrontational too but thats only if i drink white rum, for some reason.

our worst fight can hardly be considered a fight cause its so dumb but she had called me to ask if id be there for her bday party, i said i might not be able to cause i had 4 papers due the weekend of her party and then she got really upset cause she wanted me there and then i got upset cause i wanted to be there really bad but i was overwhelmed with school and exams and we kinda just sobbed at each other for like 10 mins before we hung up. she called me back a few mins later and we both apologized for being stupid and then i told her id get my papers done so i could go which solved our problem. luckily i did get my papers done in time and i made it🎉 i think i wrote almost 10,000 words in the span of 2 days it was torture truly.

prob last time i saw liv which was in january :( damn her for going to a diff city for uni fr. but we walked in circles around this lake for a few hours and chatted shit about the bitchy people we went to high school with & it was lovely.

jegulily i think yes! james has two hands. i havent read any of them yet but if i find a good fic i plan on it. plus i think their dynamic has good potential & i love each of the individual characters so very much so.

10 things i hate about you!!!!!! other favs include: mamma mia, enchanted, 13 going on 30, and princess diaries. tbh i dont watch a lot of romcoms so idek if these technically count as romcoms but whatever i love them so.

IT!!!!!!!!!!!! i was fucking obsessed with that movie in 2017 i made it my entire personality.

qs for u!

piercings vs tattoos?

fav superhero?

fav fic of all time?

what would your animagus form be?

what's your literary archetype? (fun lil quiz, i got ruler )

what are you like while drunk?

is it better to speak or to die?

preferred method of annotating books? (ie. do u add random commentary or do u add insightful analysis)

when listening to music, are u more of a lyrics person or a sound person?

thats all for now! praying tumblr doesnt fuck this one up too🙏

-bee :)

beeeeeeee :))))))

girl u gonna have to forgive me for this but I woke up and Tumblr was like 'u didn't save this draft would u like to restore it' and I was like 'YES MOTHERFUCKER' and it was ur other ask but I will answer these Taylor songs here !!!! and I got a free extra fic rec , so I'll give u 2 in the other ask .

(feeling sorry for ur poor old fingers u soldier)

tay tay -

the last great American dynasty - MARY MACDONALD - that song speaks of love and loss to me and damn it if it isn't Mary macdonald at the end of her life all alone and everything. I mean can u not just see her 'pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea'?

state of grace - JEGULUS - that entire song is basically regulus thinking about their love and how it was so unexpected 'I never saw you coming and I'll never be the same' (also James tearing reg's armour down ????)

wonderland - JILY / DRARRY - now hear me out , I think that the chorus bit where it's all 'didn't they tell us' and everything is a split convo between lily and James where she's all sad and depressed and mad and James is just there for her trying to convince her that it'll all be okay and they're fine. now , dreary , because I think 'didn't you flash your green eyes at me / didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire Cat smile' is such a Draco thing to say about harry. like he would be so so worried and harry would just have this complete confidence that everything would be a-ok.

#ess waters a plant #bee <33 #ess's marauders x ts crossover

0 notes

allsassnoclass · 4 years

Note

i hate that i didn't say hi in that last request. HI hazel what do you think about!! "MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER" for malum? that sounds like the malum i love!! love u <3

hello hello hello here you go!

Ficmas Day 4

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Christmas in London is very different from Christmas in Australia. For one thing, there’s snow on the ground. It’s not much, tramped over by boots and mixed with the dirt to create sludge along the streets, but it’s still present on the ground. For another thing, it’s cold. Australian temperatures can dip down in winter, but by December it’s warm again, summer sun heating skin from the moment you step outside. It’s strange to be at the end of December and have to put on a coat outside. It’s also a little colder than Australia ever gets, and Michael finds himself seeking out blankets inside the house and shoving beanies over his hair before he sets foot outside.

It’s also different because Liz is the only parent around. All of them had to barter extensively with their parents to convince them to even let them come to London, and once they realized they probably wouldn’t have Christmas together it prompted a new flurry of discussions about the exact timeline of the move. In the end, professional interest won out over familial traditions, and Michael isn’t upset about heading to London early, but he’s careful not to mention the ache of loneliness in his stomach when he calls home.

He’s not really lonely. He has Calum, Luke, and Ashton, and Liz ensures that they all eat actual meals and get enough sleep and always have someone to turn to when they need a motherly hug. They have a little fake tree with some lights and generic ornaments on it, and Liz has been snatching packages as soon as the post delivers them, shifty about the contents inside. Michael isn’t worried about gifts, because being in London is his Christmas present, and it’s kind of nice to get the full Northern-Hemisphere-Winter-Experience shown in all of the movies.

It would be worse if he didn’t have Calum. It would be worse if he didn’t have all of them, but Calum has always felt like home in a way that few other people ever will. He’s been Michael’s best friend through thick and through thin, and he’s the one who brought Luke into their life and who’s agreement to do the band kick-started their process. Michael can always count on him to cheer him up on bad days and share his happiness on good ones, and living in London is a lot like an extension of the sleepovers they’ve been having since before they hit double-digits. The biggest difference is that they’re in separate beds rather than piled sleeping bags on the floor.

On Christmas Eve, Michael wakes up late and spends a long time laying in his bed, debating whether he should bother getting up or let himself melt into his mattress. Luke and Liz had plans for the day that they had suggested dragging everyone else along for, but Luke’s bed is empty and Michael can’t hear other activity in the house, so they probably left already. Michael doesn’t mind. He’s been tramping around London a lot lately, and a day to recharge is fine with him.

When his stomach finally growls, he heaves himself out of bed, throwing back the covers and shivering at the change in air temperature. He needs socks. He needs long sleeves. It's winter in England, and that is not conducive to getting out of bed right now.

He manages to find socks that smell clean and a t-shirt that seems passable. Hunger pushes him towards the kitchen before an acceptable hoodie can be found, but he can always sneak into the other room and steal one of Calum's. Calum's hoodies tend to be some of the most comfortable, and he guards them carefully. He always lets Michael keep it on if he's caught wearing one, though, which is more than can be said for the other two.

Calum enters the kitchen once Michael's toast pops. Michael has an irrational fear that the toaster popping will startle him bad enough to bite the tip of his tongue off, so he's partially thankful that Calum makes his appearance then and distracts him, even if his presence startles him more than the toast ever could.

"I didn't know you were home," he says in answer to Calum's raised eyebrows.

"Liz took Luke and Ashton. They'll be gone all day."

"Doing what?"

Calum shrugs. "I think Liz is still getting presents for the family to send for New Years and wanted Luke to help. Ashton just likes being out of the house."

Ashton is probably trying to find gifts for his own family. Michael already sent some kitschy souvenirs for his parents, although they haven’t reached Australia yet. He'll get them something better later, when he actually figures out what they would appreciate.

"Toast?" he offers.

"I'm making noodles," Calum says.

"Can I have some?"

"Yeah, okay."

Michael hums and slumps against him. Everyone should have a Calum in their lives. He's a space heater and a chef and a great bassist rolled into one, and he's pretty low maintenance. Michael only has to give him undying love to get all of the perks.

They keep a comfortable silence while Calum cooks and Michael eats, enjoying existing together rather than filling the air with mindless chit chat. Michael takes a shower when he finishes his toast, and Calum has the noodles ready when he's done. After lunch, they migrate to the living room, taking advantage of the empty house to finally play Fifa uninterrupted. Calum wins more than Michael, but he's not mad about it however much he pretends to be. Calum is often humble to a fault, so Michael is happy to let him rub these victories in his face.

Calum goes to check the mail while Michael gets more snacks. He comes back with two packages, one that he distractedly puts on the couch and another that he looks at curiously. It's bigger than a shoe box, taped together securely over some colorful paper.

"What's that?" Michael asks.

"From my mum," Calum says. "Your mum sent Liz something."

"What? What is it?"

"I don't know," Calum says. "It's a crime to open someone else's mail."

"But it's from my mum."

"Maybe she and Liz gossip about you. If it's meant for you, you'll get it tomorrow."

Michael pouts. Calum is, unfortunately, very resistant to his pouting. He also takes the package and makes Michael put it in Liz's room before Michael can get too curious and start shaking it. He could still peak, but then he'd have to contend with Calum's disappointed face. That's not something anyone should have to face on Christmas Eve.

"Michael!" Calum calls from the living room. "Get out here!"

"Why?"

"Mum sent you something!"

Michael leaves the package on Liz's bed and tramps back to the living room. Calum grins and holds up a dark blue sweater with two white stripes stretching around it.

"My mum knit you a jumper!"

"For me?" he asks. Calum nods enthusiastically.

"Put it on," Calum says. "She wants a picture."

He holds out the jumper, letting Michael slip his hands in the arms and helping him pull it over his head. It's a little big, spacious and comfortable, and the yarn is soft. Michael doesn't know the difference between any of the stitches, but they're fun and feel fancy.

"She said she made it big so we can grow into them."

Calum pulls another jumper out, just like Michael's except in green. When he puts it on, Michael resists the urge to help fix his hair, unruly from the static.

"I can't believe your mum knit me a jumper," Michael says.

"She's going to do one for Luke and Ashton, too, but she wanted to get yours done quickly. She said you're an ice cube in our winters, so she was worried about how you were handling this one."

Michael feels a rush of affection for Joy Hood. The entire Hood family is his favorite family besides his own, even without considering the fact that Calum is his favorite person.

Calum snaps a selfie, tilting his phone so they both fit in frame. Michael presses close, faces centimeters away, and ensures that his grin is bright and happy, trying to push as much gratitude into one picture as possible. Calum doesn’t step away while he sends it and Michael once again leans against him.

“Tell her I love it,” he says, looping his arms around Calum’s waist. He slips his hands under the hem of Calum’s shirt and presses them against his stomach, making him squirm and swear.

“Get your icicle hands off me!” he laughs, but Michael has a grip now and doesn’t let him go until they’re tumbling onto the couch in a tangled, giggly mess.

“Still want to play another round?” Calum asks once he catches his breath. Michael considers it, but he can’t properly cuddle with Calum if he has to hold a game controller, so he shakes his head.

“Movie?” he suggests instead. Calum shrugs and grabs the remote, shutting down the game and switching the input so they can browse through Netflix. Michael stretches out and Calum fits himself against him, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover their legs. It’ll probably get too warm about thirty minutes into whatever they decide to watch, but for now it’s perfect. Michael tucks himself lower into his sweater and pulls Calum closer to him, savoring every piece of warmth he can get.

#my writing #malum #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #hey did you guys know that I love malum #because I do!#also apologies Taylor I got this out later than I wanted and you might be asleep? or getting ready to sleep?#if so hope you enjoy getting this gift in the morning #fun fact I looked up whether Australia says sweater or jumper #it seems like jumper might be it?

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mercy-burning · 4 years

Text

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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sweettsubaki · 2 years

Text

Ranking Buck's relationship from the most "Functional" to the least

because there's of course the fact that we all know calling a relationship with someone "Functional" is "not the way you talk about someone you're in love with" but it's also not true at all.

Reminder that a dysfunctional Relationship is a relationship that does not perform their appropriate function. It's not about long term or seriousness so here goes my rating, from most functional to least:

1. Ali Martin

She wasn't there much so there wasn't really anytime for it to become dysfunctional. Tho there are other reasons like:

See, Ali and Buck liked each other but they never tried to be more than what they felt. When things got too tough for Ali, she told him without expecting him to sacrifice who he was because she knew how important it was to him. It was a relatively serious relationship but not a long term one. They both knew it, they both agreed to it and that was that, making it the most functional out of all Buck's relationship for that simple fact.

1/10 on the dysfunction scale.

2. Abby Clark

We all know she did something creepy when she got his number. Still, he had the leeway to block her and at first it was mostly friendly. She still generally considered him a boytoy when things got more romantic whereas he was completely in it for the long haul. So we're off to a very rocky and unequal relationship.

However they still were fairly good at communicating their needs and their wants to each other as far as the day to day is concerned...before Abby left. They trusted each other and were fairly open. There was a partnership that we didn't really see with his other girlfriends. Taylor had a few in Treasure Hunt (412) but they were then mixed quickly with Eddie who took over by the end of the episode.

Abby's priority was Patricia so her being put first was not a show of dysfunctionality since Abby had been clear this would be part of the deal and Buck accepted it going in. Especially since Abby still managed to put Buck front and center several time without it being overtaken by Patricia so they managed to find a relative balance.

So, it was unequal yes but both of them found something they needed in it which is why Abby hadn't managed to truly broke things off and it took Buck months before he was able to let her go.

7/10 on the dysfunction scale

3. Taylor Kelly

Yeah she manages to beat Abby in my book. So let's start. We're gonna ignore season 2 because apparently Buck forgave her and she might have apologized off screen to Bobby (I doubt it but we don't know and the point is Buck seems to have forgiven her for some reason and Bobby seems to...somewhat tolerate her so...even if she apologized to appease Buck the point is, she's tolerated now).

So we start with her being a complete asshole and never apologized (yeah Buck wasn't great in that part of the story either but it's absolutely not comparable). Turned him down then changed her mind by kissing him when he was extremely vulnerable bc his best friend was shot in front of him and was surprised (if not annoyed) that he didn't chase her so she already beats Abby in the consent department. Then keeps the theme of considering him self centered by not understanding why he gets into danger from the double date with Veronica and Albert to 414 before the kiss all the way to 505 (so 5 months later) when he's trying to be vulnerable with her (don't get me wrong her comment isn't completely wrong in itself even if she doesn't understand where it comes from but the lack of empathy before, during and after is not good).

After that there's the matter of Buck's lack of trust toward her whether it's with job stories or their relationship (he thinks she's gonna leave him every time she does something different than usual, won't tell her about the kiss, reaches relationship milestones not bc he wants to but because of how she might react to a situation, ect...), there's the fact that her love is conditional (said she loves him because he helped her) and she doesn't want to be especially vulnerable with him (the only time she does is for the ILU scene and she dials it back down immediately...granted considering his later reaction and the fact he's probably her first ILU...is sort of understandable), then there's the fact we learn that he's completely right in not trusting her when it comes to his job's stories considering her conclusion to her backstory which is telling other people's stories to deflect from her own (also concludes by confirming she's still not telling him everything, which you know it's normal not to tell everything but you don't brag about it to someone who's trying to be vulnerable with you).

The fact that he was tempted by Lucy which, kiss or not is proof enough in itself to show that he's not well in his relationship (he was never tempted during his relationships with both Abby and Ali, even when they weren't there for a long period of time).

This relationship is based on fumes and smoke. They both want something serious but not especially with each other, so much as the other is the one here at that point in time so they are unwilling and unable to do what is actually needed for it to work. When they try to do them, the motivation is that they're needed for a relationship to work, not because loving the other makes them want to help/be there. And that's because while they're in it at the same time, they're not in it together, they're just there along for the ride.

9/10 on the dysfunction scale

CONCLUSION

Not only is Buck wrong in considering his relationship with Taylor to be his most functional one, but I personally consider it to be his least functional one.

Denial is strong with Buck and while he doesn't repress in the same way Eddie does (nor does he repress the same things), his level of repression is still high and his denial ability puts the whole thing on a brand new level which explains how he managed to stay 10 months with a person he trusts as little as he does Taylor (and I barely even touched how their different types of empathy affects their relationship and informs Buck's lack of trust in her.

Also a dysfunctional scale can change if you learn stuff like communication or empathy but it won't if the basis of your relationship is so off you'd need a soft character reboot for it to change (which can happen through trauma or breaks ect...but not a great look at the first version of the relationship)

#Ali Martin #Abby Clark #Taylor Kelly #Evan 'Buck' Buckley #911 fox #If anyone's asking him and Eddie are an 8/10 rn but it'd be easily solved if they lowered their level of denial #(Repression without denial is more easily helped). Because they've already got the trust; the love and the intimacy parts at a pretty good #level. They just need the communication to be able to open the gate

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sourholland · 4 years

Note

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind of Education: I Is For Impact Play (Chapter 8)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summery: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summery: A new week and a new lesson, but also a new challenge. How can you possibly find the courage to talk to your professor about your period?

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, conversations about and mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, discussions of impact play including: spanking, kicking, slapping, punching, floggers, paddles, crops, whips, and canes

Words: 10,391

A/N: Better late than never, right? Big apologies for taking so long to get this one up! Once again I've had to split a single topic into multiple chapters lmao. This one is mostly the theory part of the lesson and a bit of an info dump, but the next part will focus more on the actual smut.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod

You knew it was something you’d have to deal with eventually, that having your period would affect your lessons with Roger. But still you felt reluctant to broach the topic with him. It wasn’t something you generally discussed with people, especially not your professor (even if you were regularly sleeping with him). And you could already hear the lecture he’d give you about why you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell your sexual partner about your cycle, and about how he’d taught reproduction enough to not be phased by it. The problem was you weren’t really sure how you felt about having sex during it and you knew even less about whether Roger would want to. You were definitely going to have to talk to him about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to. So, wondering when the best time to bring it up would be, you checked the curriculum he’d written for you. Impact play. That was the topic for the week. Roger might consider you clueless about kink (as you’d learnt during the previous week’s munch), but you at least knew enough to know that impact play meant spanking. For a moment you were distracted from your worries about the conversation you were going to have, rather excited by what you’d just read. Spanking was one of those things you’d been expecting to try. When you thought about BDSM, spanking was the second thing to come to mind after bondage. It was one of those things Dylan had hinted at being into. A couple of times during sex he’d given your arse a slap and, though you’d never really asked for it you also hadn’t told him to stop. He never hit too hard and it added a bit of excitement so there was no harm in it. And you suspected he might be interested in pushing it further if you ever suggested as much. So, to know that Roger was going to run you through the basics of it and show you how it felt, you couldn’t help but be a bit excited. And maybe you’d be able to keep things over the clothes to start and you wouldn’t have to tell Roger about your period after all. The good thing with having an implant was that it reduced the duration of your period. It would have been nice if it stopped it entirely but at least it shortened it and made it a little lighter. So maybe you could organise a second session later in the week for the more hands on part of the lesson, and not have to explain at all. You left your apartment feeling happier and excited to see Roger that night. But you didn’t have to wait so long to see him.

You’d barely taken two steps inside when a familiar voice called out Ms Y/L/N and you found Roger walking towards you, his hand raised in a lazy wave. “Hi Professor,” you smiled, surprised but happy to see him, “I’m just on my way to class, what’s up?” “Oh, in that case,” he glanced over to a group of students ambling past you, “do you have time for a meeting before you leave this afternoon?” Your heart rate sped up at the serious way he looked at you over his glasses, “Umm sure.” “Good. I’ll see you this afternoon then. Don’t forget.” You nodded but a new worry had taken over your mind. There was only one reason he could want to talk to you. Your degree. If it was anything to do with his tutoring sessions then he would have just said it when you got to his place that evening. No, it must be to do with your class work. Maybe something had been wrong with your last exam? Possibilities were turning over in your mind as you resumed your path to your first class, each worse than the other. Maybe you’d misunderstood a question and gotten it completely wrong. Maybe he’d had to fail you. Maybe your overall grade had dropped. Maybe he was going to call the whole tutoring thing off because you’d gotten too distracted and done so badly on your recent assessment. You spent the entire day trying not to get too worked up about it, trying to tell yourself that if your work had slipped even a little he would have called to talk about it earlier, that if it really was as bad as failing his subject you’d have discussed it long before now. By the time your last class of the day ended you were somewhere between terrified about what Roger was going to say and relieved that you were about to find out.

Your hand was shaking as you knocked on Roger’s office door and pushed it open at his word. “AH, Ms Y/L/N, shut the door please and take a seat.” he said, shifting a stack of papers to the side of his desk. It was only once you were sitting that he seemed to look at you properly, “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.” “Professor I’m so sorry, I swear if something was wrong with my last exam then it wasn’t because of our lessons and I promise I’m not letting them distract me at all. I put so much time and effort into studying and if-” “Woah, woah, hang on. No one said anything was wrong.” Your breath caught in your throat and it seemed to take you twice as long as it normally would for you to understand what he’d said, “There’s not? Then....why am I here?” “It’s about tonight’s tutoring session.” “Oh?” “I wondered if you’d be okay making a small change to the plan.” “S-so nothing's wrong with my work?” Roger shook his head, “Your work is impeccable Ms Y/L/N. Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d assume the worst. I had no intention of worrying you like that. I was intending to mention it this morning but you seemed to be in a bit of a rush and I didn’t want anyone to overhear so...” he gestured vaguely towards you with his hands. You let out a relieved chuckle, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders, “What was the change you wanted to make?” “Do you know what we’ll be focusing on this week?” “Impact play, Professor.” “Very good. And do you know what that entails?” “It’s like spanking isn’t it?” “Spanking is definitely part of it, yes.” “Cool. But you’re not wanting to switch topic are you? Only I’ve been kind of looking forward to this one since it’s like proper BDSM stuff....or like, not that other things aren’t I just mean that spanking is part of what I initially imagined, y’know?” Roger held up his hand to quiet you, “I understand what you mean Ms Y/L/N. And it’s not that I want to change the topic, I just wanted to change where the lesson would take place.” “Okay...” you were a little surprised by that. Where else could he have in mind when your lessons were supposed to be secret. “I thought we might have the first lesson here.” “Here?!” “Keep your voice down, Ms Y/L/N. Not here exactly, not this office. In the first-year bio room actually.” “Why? Isn’t that kind of risky? What if someone saw?” Roger shrugged one shoulder, “It might be, but I think what I intend to show you could be covered as a biological experiment. Let me explain,” he said upon seeing your confused face, “So, as you no doubt remember, first years do a lot of dissection of various animals, working their way up to human.” You nodded, remembering hours spent bent over various carcases and cadavers. “Well, I thought it might be beneficial to show you some of the impact play tools we can use, demonstrating how they work and what effects they can have, but I don’t want to demonstrate them on you straight away. Luckily, it just so happens that one of the animals my first years are studying right now is pigs, so I thought we might use a pig carcass instead. Pig and human flesh are quite similar so you should get a decent sense of how being spanked with various tools will look and the impact they would have on your skin. We can compare being spanked by hand to flogging to a crop and so on. All without experiencing any pain at all. Of course, it is a dead pig so it won’t be exactly the same and you probably won’t see the same levels of bruising you would on a living human being, but it’s a good starting point. Plus this way you could try wielding the tools too, so you can get a sense for how they feel to use them and how much force is required to make them work.” You were taken aback by the explanation and had to stop your jaw from falling open as you listened. But Roger waited patiently for you to think it over and you quickly concluded it was a good plan. You could easily write it off as related to your dissertation if anyone saw and asked what was going on. It wasn’t at all related but Roger was about the only person who knew what topic you were researching so no one else would pick up the lie. “Okay then, let’s have the lesson here.” “Excellent. You really don’t mind hanging back?” “Not at all.” “Good. I think we should possibly wait until a little later before we start, just to let the place clear out a bit. Perhaps we could get some dinner and eat it in here before we head down to the room. You can tell me how you’re getting on with your dissertation.” “Okay, I like that idea.” “Shall I duck out and get us some food then? What would you like?”

After what could only be described as a minor argument about the merits of Mexican food, you and Roger eventually settled on a nearby Greek place. He tapped the order into Uber Eats and then went to wait for the delivery out on the street so the driver wouldn’t have to find their way through the numerous carparks and laneways on campus. You ducked out to your own car to drop off your bag full of books, though you kept your laptop to make notes on. It would also make your story seem more legitimate if anyone did stumble onto the lesson and ask what was going on. The thought of the lesson made you smile. Partly because you were keen to learn about the topic but also partly because you knew there was no way sex would be part of it. Roger would definitely draw the line at fucking his student in his classroom where anyone could catch you. And if you were going to be spanking a dead pig then you wouldn’t be asked to remove clothes or anything like that. So you wouldn’t have to discuss your menstrual cycle with Roger at all. You’d just say you were busy until later in the week when your period stopped and organise the follow-up lesson then and Roger wouldn’t be any the wiser. It was perfect. That, in addition to knowing nothing was wrong with your actual schoolwork, put you in a very good mood and you could have whistled with joy as you made your way back to Roger’s office.

By the time you’d finished eating, the sky outside the window had changed from a mix of warm pinks and yellows as the sun set and was gradually darkening the longer you watched. It was only when Roger glanced at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to seven that he decided the building would be empty enough for your lesson to start. He grabbed his own laptop as you grabbed yours and then led you along the corridor and down a set of stairs, taking you towards the back of the building where the hands-on biology lessons were held. Roger made sure the door was shut and locked before dumping his belongings onto a desk. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, before moving to the door to a walk-in freezer at the back of the room. Together you hoisted a large pig carcass onto a cart and wheeled it out into the main room. Roger then ducked back into the freezer returning, after a little rummaging, with what looked to be a child’s toy crate. It was made of yellow plastic and seemed light enough that Roger had no trouble hoisting it onto one of the desks, but it was not full of children’s toys. You couldn’t see everything immediately but poking out of the top was a long black handle with a leather flap hanging off the end. “Is that what we’ll be using then?” You were eyeing the box warily. “Yup,” Roger began pulling the items from the box one by one, laying them out on the desk, “I brought the box in earlier and hid it down here so no one would stumble onto it. I didn’t want any awkward questions. Or to have any of them stolen since they’re mine,” he added with a chuckle. You looked over the collection with interest, some of the objects familiar to you and some only vaguely recognisable, “Is that a hair brush?” “It is,” Roger winked playfully, “Kink can be very D.I.Y and the back of a hairbrush makes for a good makeshift paddle. The front of the hairbrush can be fun too actually. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to go through everything individually, explain what they are and what sort of effect they have and I’ll demonstrate them on our piggy participant. There’s also a few things I don’t have which we can run through at the end, sound good?” “Sounds great.” You sank into one of the nearby seats, pulling your laptop towards you, ready to take notes. “Right well. Impact play is a BDSM practice where one partner strikes another for sexual gratification. As you rightly said earlier this includes spanking but there's a little more to it than just that. You can slap your partner, punch them, kick them, whip them or flog them. There’re numerous ways to play with impact and as with all BDSM it’s important to negotiate what you want before you start. Being struck can leave marks of course. Brusies, welts, scratches, right through to cuts that draw blood. For some people, the marking aspect is an important part of their enjoyment, and they might go so far as to intentionally make the marks more apparent. But whether or not you want visible marks might be influenced by your job or the season or your social life or any number of other things. Personally, the marks are secondary to why I enjoy the forms of impact play I partake in. But my feelings aside, the nature of our lessons and the secrecy required, means I won’t intentionally be marking you anywhere that isn’t easy to cover up. If you even want to try it out. You might see everything today and decide it’s not for you and that would be okay.” “I don’t think there’s much danger of that Roger. Dylan’s spanked me a little before and I’m interested enough to try more.” “In that case then, you should know that physical pain is part of impact play no matter what aspect you try. And it can bring up more mental pain too, depending on the individual. Which is why I want to start with testing some implements on this pig. We can go through a few things and you’ll get a sense of them and then we can talk about what you might actually want to try or if any of it seems wrong for you. I’m also going to be much more diligent with your safe word in these lessons than any before. So what is your safe word?” “Pizazz, Roger,” “Good. Remember you can use it whenever you need to, even today. If things get too much for you I want to know.” “I know. I promise I’ll use it.” You were struck by how serious Roger’s tone was but understood it, after the conversation you’d had during your previous lesson. And, for the first time, you wondered if this would be a topic Roger would find hard to teach. “Thank you. I’ll check in with you every so often, especially when we move onto the practical lesson and you’re experiencing it firsthand. So, if I ask you what your safe word is, I need you to respond as loudly and as quickly as you can. It’s a way for me to gauge how well you’re coping and to make sure you’re still capable of using it.” “That makes sense.” Having assured himself of your understanding, Roger took a deep breath and smiled again, “Well, I have a range of different implements you can use here today but we’ll start with the most basic,” he held his two hands in front of him, palms towards you, fingers wiggling, “Hands.” You smiled at his showmanship but your gaze lingered on the offered view. His hands had always seemed quite lovely, even when he was just teaching you biology. The way they moved so delicately as he demonstrated necessary scientific processes for the class, or rapidly twirled pens around his fingers to impress new students. Of course, you’d felt them too since you’re first private lesson, the way he caressed you and held you. His fist tightening in your hair and his fingers plunging into you and making you moan and the way he’d gently stroke your skin as you were both regaining your breath. You were excited to feel the power in them as he spanked you. “Spanking is entry level impact play. Everyone and their mother has heard of it. It’s a common thing to see in pornography and even in Hollywood movies when they want to show sex as kinky. And because you don’t need more than your hands it’s easy to experiment with. Do you want to see what it looks like?” You nodded and Roger stepped closer to the pig, angling himself so you could see. Suddenly there was the sound of a clap as Roger’s palm hit the pig’s flesh. “See how my hand was open and my palm was flat?” Roger demonstrated again but slower so the hit barely made a sound, “But what if I do this?” He hit the pig again but changed the position of his hand. The sound of his hand colliding with the pig was deeper the second time around, “If you cup your hand, curve it slightly, you can change the way the spank feels and sounds. Just like clapping.” You experimentally clapped your hands together, first with open palms and then with each hand cupped so that the fingers wrapped around the back of the other. “Now you give the pig a try.” Feeling a surge of nervously excited butterflies, you got out of your seat and took your place at the pig. With a breath and a swallow you quickly brought your hand down. The slapping sound seemed to echo in the quiet room but it wasn’t as crisp as the noise Roger’s hits had made. With a look to Roger for permission, you tried it again, creating a slightly more impressive sound. “Good, now cupped?” You did it again, curving your fingers in a bit and bringing it down again. It felt more awkward than the open palm hit had so you repositioned yourself to hit the pig from a slightly different angle and tried once more. “Don’t be afraid to pull your arm back further. The more your rear back, the more force will be in the spank. Like this,” he pulled his hand back past his ear and swung down hard, the spank echoing around you. “Of course, you can also spank from a nearer point too. Spanking, and a lot of impact play, is best if you mix it up a bit, don’t stay in one rhythm too long, do some spanks with your fingers spread, or change how hard or fast they are. I might give a sub two or three hard hits each with a pause between but then I’ll switch to a more rapid series of spanks that don’t have as much force behind them but come faster.” You nodded and experimented with taking your arm back further, testing out ways to change the strength of each spank, until Roger finally called you to stop. “How did that feel?” he asked as you took your seat again. “My hand tingles.” “That’s normal,” Roger laughed, “in fact it’s one thing I really enjoy about spanking by hand. The sub isn’t the only one who feels the spanks, the dom gets some of the pain in his hand too, especially if the intensity ramps up or there's a section of quick-fire spanks. And that can a) help the dom understand what the sub is feeling and work out how long the scene should go and b) brings a sort of intimacy to the scene that is harder to achieve with a tool.” You hummed as you noted down what he’d said, “Have you ever spanked someone so much you injured your wrist or anything?” “No.” Roger shook his head, amused by the question, “My wrists are pretty sturdy. But a few times I’ve been left with a stingy, tingly hand for an hour or two. Which brings me to an important note about pain. There are two main types of pain you can experience in impact play. We refer to them as thuddy and stingy.” “Thuddy and stingy? What is this, an afternoon kids show?” Roger rolled his eyes, “The names are simple but they explain exactly what they mean. Some types of impact will have a stingy sensation which is usually superficial. It won’t go deeper than the first few layers of skin and probably leaves the skin feeling warm and a little tingly or like sunburn, y’know? It’s typical of spanks and slaps. Thuddy pain is deeper, it gets into the fat and muscles and tissue and aches more. And I’ll go through which tools cause which sort of pain as I get to them. Generally though, people who enjoy impact play have a preference for one or the other.” “And your preference is what?” “Thuddy. Definitely. Although I prefer inflicting stingy.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Now, I’ll go into details about ways to actually incorporate spanking into a scene later. We can talk about it while we’re negotiating our scene. Today is just about the practicalities and sensations involved in the different types of impact play. So are you okay to move on?” “Yup, definitely.” And then, sensing Roger might ask, you added, “Pizazz.” feeling pleased when you saw him smile.

“I don’t expect us to delve too deep into them but I think I should touch on kicking, punching and slapping. Kicking and punching are things I’ve not done. They can, obviously, be quite painful. But they’re pretty self-explanatory. From what I understand about it, and what I’ve heard others who enjoy that kind of thing say, kicking and punching can both be very intimate, similar to the way spanking by hand is, but in a more primal or animalistic way. Punching is, of course, done without any accessories but kicking often includes footwear of some kind. A lot of time it’s something like a steel-toed boot or something with a bit of weight to it.” “That isn't something I want to try.” You’d learnt a lot about how far kink went so weren’t completely shocked that some people would enjoy something as forceful as kicking, but it did take you by surprise to hear Roger talking about it. “What about slapping?” “How is that different to spanking?” “Well, you’re right, they are similar. But slapping generally refers to slapping on the face whereas spanking is usually on the, uh, derriere. Of course you can slap or spank other parts too. For clarity’s sake, if I say slapping assume I mean on the face whereas spanking is anywhere else on the body.” You thought about it for a second, “I’m not sure if I’d be game to try it but I do want to know more.” “Slapping can be fun. Again, it’s not one I do a lot but I have played with it in the past. It comes in handy for particular scenes and there’s a fairly bratty sub I’ve worked with who responds really well to it. The most important thing to know is that if you are slapping someone’s face only ever aim for the cheeks. There’s a lot of fragile places around the face and it’s close to the brain so you need to be careful not to do any lasting damage. Never hit the temples because you hit them with enough force and it can kill a person. Nose and ears are off limits too, anything that is important. You knew enough about biology to know Roger wasn’t making those rules up for fun. Noses were easy to break and hitting an ear too hard could damage someone’s hearing. But face slapping did still intrigue you.

“Well, I’d say the next – let's call it the next level – of impact play is paddling.” He picked up what looked to be a wooden plank with a handle. It was an inch or two longer and wider than his hand with small holes cut out in a repeating pattern over the flat side so you could look right through it. “They don’t always look like this. Paddles come in lots of different shapes and sizes. This is a wooden one but they’re also frequently made of leather and sometimes the leather ones will have one side that’s a little more padded than the other. That gives you a bit of versatility with the pain. You can start off lightly with the padded side to get you in the zone and then during the scene switch it to the firmer side that hurts more. Or, if you don’t have access to a paddle at all, you can substitute a hairbrush.” He picked the hairbrush up and waved it back and forth. “And that-” you pointed at the hair brush, “will feel the same as that?” you pointed at the wooden paddle, not quite able to reconcile the two in your mind. “Not exactly the same but close. Honestly you can get really creative with impact play and not spend any money to get nearly the same results. I mean a plastic hairbrush might take a few extra hits or a little more force to really bruise someone but they’ll still end up sore from it. Or, if the hairbrush doesn’t do it for you, dig through your draws and see what else you can find. Wooden spoons, cutting boards, rulers, leather belts, spatulas, rolling pins, ping pong paddles, anything you can get your hands on. Just be mindful of how easily they’d break or them causing more pain than you expect.” Again, you weren’t necessarily surprised by the lengths people would go to for sexual gratification, as Roger had put it, but it was a bit astounding. Still, you noted it all down just in case. “Now a paddle generally falls under the stingy category but you do tend to get a deeper bruise than with your hand. Different factors could alter the way it feels too. If you put less force into it the pain will fall more on the thuddy side, same goes for if your hits are slower. But the pain call also be influenced by the size of the paddle, the material it’s made out of, the texture of it.” “Texture?” “Sometimes paddles have added texture, so they aren’t just a smooth, flat board. They might have metal studs that are more raised than the surface of the blade – the part you hit with – or ridging that will imprint the skin. This one has holes in it which definitely changes the feeling, makes it more intense. As you strike and the blade hits, the holes do two things. They stop any air cushions forming that would lessen the impact and they sort of push the skin into the holes which means the pain isn't completely even along where was hit. Plus it also leaves these cool circle marks behind which is fun.” You realised you’d held your breath through the explanation, eyes following the paddle as Roger waved it through the air and ran his hands over it unconsciously. You hoped he had something more beginner friendly at home, though you couldn’t pretend you weren’t turned on by the way he wielded his weapon. “Using it is quite similar to spanking but your hand isn’t hitting, it’s holding onto the paddle handle. So you just pull back,” Roger’s arm went back and the paddle swung backwards,” and then hit,” he swung his arm forward, the paddle cutting through the air and landing directly against the soft flesh of the pig. It made a satisfying thwack sound on impact and when Roger’ brought it back again you could see the circular patterns he’d talked about. He demonstrated a few more times before he handed the plank to you. It was heavier than you’d been expecting, solid wood, but the handle fit into your palm comfortably. You ran your hands over the flat part, what Roger had called the blade, and felt the holes with your fingers. The weight made it a little hard to swing but not impossible. You managed to mark the pig as well, stroking the circular imprints with your fingers. “Try the hairbrush,” Roger said, swapping it for the paddle. Its handle wasn’t quiet as long, but it was lighter and you found your hits were harder with it, without you even trying. “Something to be aware of if you use an ordinary household item, or even just a different sort of impact toy. Because it’s lighter you can pull it back further and swing harder. A dom has to be aware of how much is going into each hit and how much their sub can handle.”

“So what’s after paddles?” “Floggers.” Roger picked his up off the table, “This is a fairly typical flogger. As you can see it’s made of black leather. It has the handle which is the thickest part and then a number of smaller tails. The tails is where you get the most variation which can be a stylistic choice or just a side effect of its price and overall quality. There’s a trick for knowing if a flogger is good quality or not. It should be pretty evenly balanced between the handle and the tails, so you should be able to do this,” he held out a finger and balanced the flogger on it carefully, the handle pointing out one way and the tails dangling over the other. You thought for sure it would tip forward onto the tails and tumble to the ground but it hung there perfectly. “Sometimes there will be more tails or they'll look different but no matter what, it should be balanced.” Roger gave a practiced flick of his hand so the flogger leapt into the air and he was able to catch the handle before it fell. “From a more stylistic point of view, you could get a flogger with less tails but they’ll be made of braids of leather which makes them heavier and thicker. Braided tails are also likely to have knots in the ends which can be a bit scratchy and even draw blood. They don’t have to be made of leather either. Rubber floggers are also popular. The tails on them tend to be more rectangular in shape, still flat but they have more edges and it actually feels like you’re being hit with more tails then there really are. And if you’re looking to really fuck someone up you can get hemp floggers. Sometimes they’ll look similar to this leather one but hemp is fairly stiff material and sometimes the tails will be shaped so that they’re sort of squiggly rather than flat lines. The squiggles hurt like a bitch, especially if they have knots at the end. Definitely start off with simple leather and work up once you’re more experienced.” Roger dragged the ends of the tails over his hand as he spoke, “I’d say this falls into the more thuddy type of pain. It can cover a large area of your body since the tails spread out and each of them creates an individual pain point. And because you’re being hit six or seven or nine or however many times at once, you can build up quite a rapid movement over a short period of time.” You eyed the dancing tails as Roger moved his hand through them, “How long are the tails? Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have so many bits flying in all directions?” Roger laughed, “Well yeah, kinda. I mean, that’s BDSM for you though, it gets dangerous which is why we’re all obsessed with safety. It’s a good thing to have noticed though, well done. The tails on this one are on the shorter side but some floggers will have much longer ones which means the dom can stand further back and still inflict a lot of pain. But you’re right, you do have to be mindful of the length and where they’re flying because a longer tail can potentially wrap around to somewhere you aren’t intending to hit. For instance, if you’re standing behind a person and flogging the back of their shoulder, you don’t want one of the tails to fly past their shoulder and around their neck. That would be incredibly painful and probably not what they expected or wanted from the scene.” “So you have to take into account the length of the tails when you’re negotiating the scene then? And know where on the body to focus the hits so you don’t risk causing the wrong sort of pain and ending it early.” “Exactly. That’s why negotiating the scene is important. Then both the dom and the sub will know what they want to achieve, what they want to get out of the experience, and they can tailor things to fit better. A lot of doms who are into impact play are likely to have multiple versions of their favourite toys – I myself have a few different paddles at home, I just didn’t bring them all in with me today – so by talking through what you want they’ll be able to choose the style of toy that will best fit the scene.” “So how do you use a flogger then? Is it the same as spanking and paddling where you just swing your arm forward?” “Sort of. Floggers have a few different ways to use them. There is of course the single strike option where, yeah, you do just hit them like you would with a paddle. I find that you don’t need to bring your arm back so far though, the movement comes from your elbow more than your shoulder.” Roger bent his arm so his hand and the flogger were roughly head height and then brought it down on the pig, “And you can change the angle of your single strike so that you hit them overhand or underhand or from one of the sides.” He demonstrated each direction as he said them, first bringing the flogger down from above, then swinging it up from below, then from the right side and finally a backhanded hit from the left. “But you don’t have to just pick a side to hit from. Paddles and hands are limited in how you can swing them but floggers have more movement. One way to use them is to swing them in a circle.” He moved back towards the pig to demonstrate, standing side on so that the tails whipped around and struck the pig, “I like starting off with circles because you can keep the pressure quite light. The tails sort of brush over the sub as they pass and it can be a good way to slowly build up. And then you can move into a figure eight as you get a bit harder.” Roger shifted his circles so they made a sideways eight in the air, subtly adjusting his stance so that the tail swished over the pig’s skin on both the forward and back motion. You watched, awe-struck by how easily Roger swung the flogger, falling into a rhythm quickly. It wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d suddenly change the speed or the force of the swing when you were least expecting it.

You were brought back to the present by Roger clearing his throat as he stilled the flogger, “The figure eight is why you should practice your backhand swing as much as any other. Because the tails will hit the sub on both the forward and back swings and you want them to be as even as possible.” He flipped the flogger in his hands, holding the handle out to you. It felt smooth and cool in your hand, lighter than the paddle had been. You swished it experimentally, trying to get a sense of how it felt in motion.” “Show me your overhand hit.” Roger said, leaning back against the nearest desk to watch. You tried to imitate how he’d swung it, elbow bent, flogger raised. It must have been good enough because Roger nodded and said, “how about underhand?” He kept calling out different directions for a while, testing your reactions but you felt it helped you get a better grip on the toy and you found yourself adjusting how you held it so your movements became more fluid. Roger watched you as you tried to keep up, his eyes locked onto your hands. Had you been looking, you might have caught sight of him subtly adjusting himself in his pants. Finally, he seemed satisfied that you could successfully single strike from any direction and asked you to try the circle and figure eight motions. They were harder to start, more awkward as you tried to work out the best way to move the flogger, and you caught Roger chuckling.” “Oi, stop laughing,” “Do you want some help?” he was still smiling but his request was genuine and when you nodded he stepped towards you. One of his hands moved to your waist as the other lay over yours on the handle of the flogger. You tried not to grin too much as he did exactly why you’d hoped, and you felt him so close behind you. “Like this,” His arm gently directed yours, the flogger beginning to move in a smooth circle. “Oh, not so hard then,” you laughed, half turning to face him, “Y’know if someone walked in now this would be pretty hard to explain.” His eyes darted to your lips, “Good thing we locked the door then.” You hummed, waiting to see if Roger would close the gap. He did a few seconds later, leaning in to kiss you softly. But the movement caused you both to forget about the flogger, your hands falling out of rhythm, and the tails whacking against your outstretched arms as they fell. “Ow,” you both groaned, Roger stepping away from you. It was disappointing but the disappointment was a little confusing. Surely you weren’t hoping for your professor to kiss you when you had no intention of sleeping with him that night. Roger laughed, “Maybe that’s enough of the flogger today.” “Might be for the best. Good thing I was so bad at it, otherwise we might have been really hurt.” “You weren’t that bad. You actually looked good with it before I brought in the circles. Quite sexy really.” “Thanks,” you said softly, trying to hide how pleased you were at that praise, “What else is there then?”

“There's only one more that I can demonstrate but then there’s a few others I’ll touch on quickly too. So the last one I own is a crop.” He picked it up off the table, his fingers sliding along the length of it’s handle as he spoke, “This one I would put in the stingy category. It’s fast and sharp. Again, you can get crops in a few different styles. They will all have a handle like this, long and thin and probably with a slightly thicker point towards the end that’s easy to hold onto. The difference will be in the bit you hit with. This one is based on the sort of riding crop that's used on horses, so it’s quite plain. There’s just this loop of leather which hangs off the end. But others can be more decorative. I’ve seen crops which had ends shaped like hearts or that had studs pushed into them. Some of them are padded and some have a more rounded shape. We like our variety.” “It looks scarier than the others I think,” “Yeah, they’re quite intimidating aren’t they. And if you do it right, it’ll make a noise through the air, which just adds to how intimidating it can be.” “Can you show me how to swing it now?” “Absolutely. Now, you want to stand a bit further back with a crop because there is such a long handle. And the magic is in the wrist with these. You just flick the wrist and...” You could hear the whooshing sound of it flying through the air before it cracked against the pig. “Now some crops are more bendy and some are more stiff so, if you get one, you’ll want to practice swinging it a bit before you use it on a person, to get a feel for it. The flexibility of it might dictate how you stand or how strong the swing has to be. Give this one a go though.” You felt oddly powerful as you took the crop and tightened your fist around the end. For a moment a vision of you decked out in leather dominatrix gear popped into your head and you nearly laughed. Unfortunately, the intimidating whooshing noise Roger had achieved was not as easy for you to make as you’d hoped, and the imagined power soon dissipated as you struggled to make the weapon sing. Roger however was not disappointed. “It takes practice,” was what he said when you lamented your inability to create the sound, “And you don’t have to have the sound to make a good hit. It’s just kind of cool.” When you still seemed disappointed he sighed. “If it’s any help, I can’t always make the sound either. And besides, I wasn’t intending to use that one on you, unless you really, really want to. I mostly brought it to show you as an interesting part of your theory lessons. And so you’d have a sense of what a cane is like, even though I don’t have any of them to demonstrate.” “A cane? Like....caning? Like what Victorian kids used to have done if they misbehaved or whatever?” Roger laughed, “Kind of, yeah. It does have a history in corporal punishment. Which, might I add, wasn’t just for Victorian kids. It was still a thing when I was a kid. We didn’t get caned, more likely to be whacked over the knuckles with a ruler, but still. I don’t think it really left schools until the 80s.” “Jesus,” “Yeah. Occasionally I do wish I could bring out a ruler to shut a kid up,” he winked in jest, “Anyway, caning for BDSM is similar and uses the same sort of tool. A cane, funnily enough. Canes are long and thin like a crop but without the leather flap at the end or the more padded handle area. Traditionally they’re made from rattan which is a type of plant, but you can also get synthetic canes which are covered in leather. In my experience synthetic canes are actually harder. Not to use, I mean in the way they feel when you’re hit with them. The traditional rattan ones require a lot of maintenance though. You have to water them between uses, literally soaking them in a bath of water so they don’t dry out and break. But the benefit with a rattan cane is that if you get it home and realise you’d like something a bit shorter, you can cut it off yourself and just sandpaper down the rough edge and it’s good as new.” “So are there any different version aside from synthetic? All the other toys had lots of variety.” “Hmmm, not really. Most of the difference will be in how thick the cane is, which can effect the feel of it a lot. A thinner cane will sting when it hits and the force will make the skin hug the cane so it leaves these long marks behind. A thicker cane though might sting less but it’ll still hurt a lot, just more thuddy. And you tend to get more bruising from the thicker ones.” “And do you use it the same as a crop?” “Mostly, yes. The biggest difference is that you can use a larger section of a cane. The crop has the specific bit at the end to hit with whereas a cane doesn’t have that limit. The most important thing to remember is to try and aim a little short of where you want to hit because if you hit with a part of the cane six inches down, those top six inches are going to hit as well, and with force behind them they will wrap around the person’s side or arse or whatever until they make contact. But other than that, it’s a similar motion from the wrist and uses a similar amount of energy. And canes can make the cool whippy noise too.”

“Is that everything then?” “One last one, really quick. Whips.” “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of whipping in kink.” “Yeah, it’s one of those things that gets mentioned a lot even if comparatively fewer people are actually into it. But everyone’s heard the phrase chains and whips in relation to BDSM. There's a few different varieties of whips but I don’t really know enough about them to know the difference. They all look like whips to me. Very cowboy. But they’re one of the more intense versions of impact play. The pain they cause is quite sharp and stingy and will be very localised to a specific point because they have the one tail, as opposed to floggers which have multiple tails. Whips are very capable of breaking the skin though and feel very intensely painful. I do not recommend them unless you discover you’re a masochist and you’ve tried everything else impact play has to offer.” “No need to tell me twice, Professor. Definitely do not want to try whips any time soon.” “That’s very reasonable. And that is all of the impact play options I wanted to go through. There’s a little more to cover regarding safety before I let you go for the night, but how about we put the pig away and hope no one notices it’s been marked by crops and floggers.” You chuckled and quickly moved to help Roger push the trolley back towards the freezer, locking the dead pig away securely, and to help pack up his toys. When everything was tidy again you re-took your seat, Roger taking the one beside you. It made the end of the lesson feel less like a lesson and more of just a casual chat, the topic of which happened to be BDSM. “The most important thing to remember when trying impact play is which parts of the body are safest to hit.” He paused for a moment, considering you, “But you’ve been studying biology for a while now, Ms Y/L/N. Care to guess which parts are safe and which parts you should avoid?” You hadn’t expected to be asked so took a moment to consider your answer, “Well, the arse obviously. Ummm.... I guess I’d assume the best places to hit are the bits with more meat on them.” “Very good. Entirely correct. There’s a reason most people think about spanking on the arse and that’s because it’s one of the best places to spank. Well, that and the fact that spanking is used so frequently in punishment scenes where you bend the naughty girl over your knee. But, yes, hitting the arse is good. Hitting the thighs can also be good, though the bit just under the arse cheek where it connects to the thighs hurts a lot. Which isn’t to say don’t ever spank there, just be mindful that it’s going to hurt more than directly on the arse cheeks. The pecks or breasts can be good places to hit, even the upper back where the shoulder blade is can be good. What about places to avoid hitting? Any ideas what those might be?” You hummed in thought, “I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to hit the spine since it’s so important.” “Right again Ms Y/L/N. The spine is definitely something to avoid. I don’t like hitting on the back much at all because there's too much important stuff there but I do know some others who don’t mind using a flogger there, especially while warming up before things get too intense. There are also the kidneys to watch out for,” he moved his hand to press against the spot on his own back, “because, as you no doubt know, part of the kidneys stick out under the ribcage so aren’t fully protected. Then a little lower down, just above the arse, is the tailbone which should also be avoided. “What about the neck? That would be bad to hit too, right?” “Yup. And that’s something to watch for if you’re doing anything on the shoulder blades. The spine of course runs all the way up the back of the neck and hitting there can do some very serious and lasting damage if you’re not careful. I know some people who will only flog the shoulder blades if the sub is wearing a collar because that adds a bit of protection around the C5 and C6 vertebrae but even so, better safe than sorry in my opinion. The front of the neck is also not good to hit since that’s where the vocal cords and all that is.” “Which is why you have to be careful with a flogger’s tails, right?” “Right. But what about on the front? Is there anywhere else you’d avoid?” “Pussy,” you said with a laugh. Roger laughed too, “Actually, depending on how it’s done, spanking a pussy can be quite enjoyable.” “Wait really?” “Yeah. I prefer doing it with my hand since you can feel when it makes the sub wet but it’s not totally unusual to use paddles or crops or even floggers down there too. I’m sure some people whip as well.” You gulped at the thought. “The biggest area to avoid on a person’s front side is the diaphragm and middle of the chest. There’s a lot of important stuff in there and a lot less tissue than elsewhere.” “Do people get badly hurt doing impact play?” you glanced over the list of places Roger said to avoid. It made it seem like almost any spanking was running the risk of more than just some bad bruising. “Sometimes.” Roger said seriously. He paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, “Things can go wrong. And when you’re playing with intentionally hurting someone, things going wrong can be very serious. I won’t pretend there aren’t stories of people trying impact play and ending up paralysed or worse. But if you’re careful, if you pay attention and only hit certain areas and are mindful of how hard you’re hitting, then you’re going to be fine. And that’s why we come up with safe words and talk through scenes before we do them. So that you can minimize those risks and have a chance to communicate any worries or concerns.” “But how can safe words help if you say them after you’ve already been hurt too much?” “Well, for one, even if you’ve been hurt badly, using your safe word can stop things from being made worse. But you don’t have to wait until you’re hurt to use the safe word. Yes, if I spank you four times in a row and the fourth one feels so bad you can’t go on, then you should use your safe word before I give you a fifth. But you could also use it after the third hit when you aren’t sure if you want the fourth. And safe words aren’t just about physical pain. If you start off excited but then feel anxious after two hits you are well within your rights to safe word. You don’t have to wait until the damage is done. And, obviously, it’s not always easy to tell if that one hit more is going to be enough to make you want to stop. You can’t always know if the next hit is going to catch your neck wrong and do serious damage. But if you feel at all worried that it might, speak up. Not just worried either. If you feel distracted or you think I’m not paying enough attention to how I’m spanking you, or if I move to spank and area you don’t want me to touch, tell me. There is no wrong reason to use a safe word, even if we’re only a few minutes into the scene. I’ve said before that I’d rather you tell me to stop than for us to go on and you not feel comfortable, and I mean it.” “I know, I guess I just never really thought about it being for mental stuff as well as physical.” “Mmm, I should have checked that.” “Well, let’s face it, you probably tried and I just didn’t pay attention. But, y’know, you’re very good at reassuring me when I start to get nervous.” “I hope that’s a good thing.” “It definitely is. I think if I didn’t have the reassurance, I’d chicken out of some things.” “As long as you’re aware of the difference between some healthy nerves and anxiety that could be a sign you should slow down. And that you keep telling me how you’re feeling.” “Of course I will.” “Good girl.”

An understanding seemed to pass between you as you sat in near silence, eyes on the other. Until Roger drew in a long breath and stood up. “Right well, I think that’s just about everything. Obviously we weren’t able to see the levels of bruising that different implements can cause but it’s kind of dependent on the individual anyway. Everything can influence the severity of bruises and other marks. Tell me what a bruise is.” “It’s broken blood vessels under the skin which cause discolouration.” “Bingo. Now, obviously being spanked with a hand will leave less obvious bruises than being hit with a crop will and usually a paddle will bruise less than....i don’t know, a leather belt. But there's lots of factors to consider. The sub’s age, diet, the colour of their skin, their hydration level, how much sun exposure they’ve had recently, stress levels, hormones. And the biggest of all is how much stimulus they receive on that part of the body. The more you hit a spot, the deeper it will bruise. So, don’t expect bruises and marks to appear exactly the same every time you make them. There are some ways to heighten or lessen marks left during BDSM, but I’ll go through those when you’re ready for our practical lessons. And we’ll also go through some ideas for popular scenes and positions before we settle on what our scene will look like.” Roger seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, “Of course, it’s not so late we have to stop. If you did want to start testing out some light impact play, or if you wanted to revisit a previous topic, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine.” “No,” you said much too fast, the suggestion catching you completely off guard. “Okay, no problem,” Roger said, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean...just that tonight’s not great timing.” You’d really thought you’d got out of having to talk about it but you could see Roger was going to ask what you were talking about when on a regular tutoring night you’d likely still be in his bed. All the same you couldn’t quite make eye contact as you explained, “My period started last night, that’s all. Makes things a bit awkward.” “Oh is that all?” You shrugged, “Yeah.” “Well there’s no need to feel awkward or embarrassed about that. And there’s no reason to hide it from me. Aside from the fact that I’ve been married and had kids, I’ve also been teaching biology for longer than I care to count, so I’m very familiar with the reproductive processes and the reality of the menstrual cycle.” “I knew you were going to say something like that.” “Because it’s true. And besides, periods are important to factor into our lessons because they can change how you’ll respond to various kinks. Fluctuating hormone levels can change how much you enjoy or desire sex, as well as the physical sensation of different forms of touch. A lot of women find breast stimulation uncomfortable in the lead up to their period because their breasts become tender at that stage of their cycle. It can also make vaginal sex undesirable, at least in the first couple of days if not longer, whether because of a physical discomfort or pain, or just because it makes sex messier and more annoying to clean up after. The hormonal shifts in a menstrual cycle can also effect libido too, either stopping you from feeling aroused or causing hyper arousal. And all of that is important to consider, especially when we get to other things like orgasm denial. So, don’t feel you have to hide your periods from me, okay? I want to know if something is going to effect how enjoyable these lessons are for you. And plus, I factored periods into the timeline, remember? If you want to postpone for a week we can. His little speech did put you at ease a bit, the weight of admitting the truth no longer as heavy now that he knew, but it still wasn’t an especially comfortable conversation, “Well, I should be okay to go in a few days.” “Would you be up for having sex on one of the last days of your period when your flow is a little lighter? Or would you rather wait until after it was finished?” You tried not to cringe too much upon hearing Roger talk about your flow, “After I think. I don’t know. How do you feel about it?” Roger shrugged, “If we were just having sex without the kinky stuff I’d be okay with period sex. It’s a little more effort since we’d need to put towels down and all that but I’m not completely opposed to it if we’re both in the mood. However, I think since we’re playing with BDSM it’s probably a good idea to wait.” You nodded, glad the topic was almost settled, “Yeah, that makes sense. I think I’d feel too self-conscious to enjoy any period sex but you’re definitely right about the BDSM stuff. Just makes it easier for my first time trying things out if I’m not worrying about, um, bleeding everywhere.” Roger gave you a reassuring smile which made your heart flutter, grateful he hadn’t made things too difficult or drawn out, “That’s settled then. We can put a pin in all of this for now and come back to it when you’re ready.” “Thanks. Will Friday suit? I think I should be right by then.” “Friday sounds great.” “Really? You don’t have to, like, pick up the kids or anything?” Roger shook his head, amused, “No. It is technically my weekend with them but they’re both staying at friend’s placed over night so I won’t see them until Saturday. Friday we can start testing some things and if we need to, we can come back next Monday and go through more. And I finish a bit earlier on Fridays so maybe we could start a bit earlier.” “Yeah that works for me.” “Great. I guess we should get out of here then.” Roger ushered you from the classroom and walked beside you all the way to the carpark, your footsteps echoing down the corridors. He chatted to you quietly about non-kinky topics, as if you’d merely ended up walking the same direction by accident, just in case anyone was looking. You were almost sad to reach your car, drawing the conversation to an end, “This is me.” “One last thing, Ms Y/L/M.” “Mmm?” “For homework-” “Homework?” “Yes. For homework I want you to watch some porn with impact play in it. You’ll find a few examples linked in a document I’ve dropped in our folder but feel free to find your own too. It can be spanking by hand or flogging or any other form of impact we discussed today, whatever turns you on most. Because I want you horny when I see you on Friday. I want you to spend all week thinking about naughty sluts who get spanks, knowing you’ll soon be one of them. I want you excited to be hit and wet at the thought of me spanking your arse and cunt while I fill your holes with cock. Is that clear?” Roger had leant closer as he talked and your stomach did a backflip as he stood up. All you could do was nod, completely lost for words as Roger chuckled and walked into the dark towards his own car.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #gonna try and get the next one written a bit quicker lmao

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finnyboywolfhard · 3 years

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Now That I Saw You- Chapter Six- Stay, Stay, Stay

Steve Harrington X Reader

catch up here

This Chapter is Inspired by Stay, Stay, Stay by Taylor Swift

summary: Steve and Readers first fight.

warnings: cursing, lil angsty obviously, lil fluffy too

word count: 3.2k

She stood in front of Steve sitting on her bed, watching as she got herself put together.

“Now are you sure you’re okay with me going to this lunch with your mom?”

“Y/N, I’ve told you a million times, she is not the one I have problems with. Please, go, have fun, but don’t let her tell you any embarrassing stories about me.” He pleaded jokingly from her bed. She walked to stand in front of him, in between his legs and for once being the taller of the two. He placed his hands delicately on her waist with his gaze remaining on her eyes.

“Oh so I should ask her to tell me the most embarrassing stories about you?”

“You’re evil, Y/N/N.” He said, squeezing her waist a little bit, causing her to yelp.

“You love it.” Her hands cup his face as she leans down to kiss him, only for a few moments before pulling away. “I’m gonna go grocery shopping after our lunch, will you be home to help me carry them in?”

“I absolutely will, just honk the horn.” She smiled and kissed him one last time and left to the lunch.

She had to admit that his mom was an incredibly kind woman, she asked thought provoking questions about Y/N’s life and career, and even complimented her on more than one occasion. And that was what made Y/N so angry at her. There was this beautiful, compassionate woman who was married to such a brooding, asshole of a man. How could she sit back and watch everything that Steve’s dad did and just accept it?

“So, tell me about how you and Steve got together.” She clasped her hands under her chin and glanced towards Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh, well, I had to find somewhere to live here before I fully accepted the internship and I stumbled onto Steve and Robin. I had lived with them for about two months, just getting to know them and hang out with them whenever we could. And it just kinda…happened. I fell for him, hard and fast, but also softly and quietly.”

“What was it about him?” She said, smiling, clearly much prouder of her son than her husband was.

“He was the sweetest person I had ever met. And when we told each other about our pasts, he was more than willing to admit his faults and patiently listen to the idiocy I had dealt with. He listened as I told him about all the little things I dream of doing one day, like decorating my first house or naming my first kid. He tried so hard to make me feel safe and heard, and he was there to listen every single time I had a bad day. It was sweet, the one day my laundry had piled up and I had let out a huge groan about having to do it after I got back from work later that day and when I came home, it was done and folded neatly on my bed. Something he said you taught him.” She felt her face turn up into a smile thinking of how happy he looked.

“Steve!” She yelled out as she walked into her room coming back from work. Her feet hurt from the heels she stupidly decided to wear, and her eyes burned from how many papers she read that used 8 point font. As she continued to stare at the clothes on her bed, her heart had swelled from the ridiculously kind gesture. She heard heavy footing trekking down the hall towards her room.

“Hey, are you okay?” He said with breathy concern. Her eyes welled with happy tears.

“Did you do this?”

“Uhh, yeah. I hope that was okay, I just know that you hate doing laundry and you were super busy, and I thought it might help you out a bit, but I also realize that it could maybe make you uncomfortable so if you never want to me do that ever again let me know and please know that I’m so sorr-“

“Don’t apologize.” She wrapped her arms around his torso, taking him in for one minute. This was all before they got together, but even then they both knew deep down this was something more. “Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Anything for you, Y/N/N.” To this day, it was the biggest and brightest she had ever seen from him.

“I used to tell him all the time that he was gonna make a very special girl very happy one day. He has always been the sweetest kid, and I got scared there for a few years with the people he was hanging out with. But he was a teenager; it was his time to rebel. He learned his lesson, and he grew up. But I think I am happiest that you’re the special girl he is making happy.” She placed her hand atop Y/N’s, who was coincidentally starting to cry a little bit. She thanked his mom a few times before they wrapped up their meal, already agreeing to have another girl’s day soon.

In the grocery store, Y/N was there for what she needed and she would not, she could not let herself get distracted. Which also meant, that she tried not to look up and that lead her to bump directly into someone.

“Oh! I am so sorry.” She looked up at who she hit and by whatever odds, it was Steve’s dad. “Hi Mr. Harrington. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, completely my fault.”

“Don’t worry about it Y/N, just don’t let it happen again.” He was clearly trying to make a joke, but it just came out slightly stiff and uncomfortable. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with my wife?”

“Oh, we just wrapped up like half an hour ago.”

“That’s nice. She’s been looking forward to it. What about my son, why isn’t he here helping you?”

“Well, I just came right after lunch, so he’s still at home.”

“Ah, he never has been one to help much.” Y/N didn’t know what came over her in that moment.

“Respectfully Mr. Harrington, I do not like the way you treat Steve, and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t degrade him both in front of me and to his face. He helps me with so much, god forbid he doesn’t help me grocery shop a singular time. Maybe consider that he doesn’t help YOU. You’re the one who made him feel unworthy and incapable. You ruined his esteem, and I am working so hard to work that back up.”

“Do you realize who you’re talking to? You barely know him, I’ve raised him his whole life. How I chose to raise my kid is frankly none of your business.”

“Except that he’s no longer a child. He’s a grown man with his own autonomy yet still feels like no matter what he does is disappointing to you. Let’s not forget, you’re the one who told him it was embarrassing that I have the better job. I am not impeding on how you raised him prior to his adulthood, that was your volition entirely, but now that I am in his life I would really appreciate it if you didn’t treat him like the dirt at the bottom of his shoe. It is counterintuitive to getting him, or me to respect you in any sense of the word.” His jaw hung slack when she finished her sentence. She plucked the box of pasta from the shelf from beside her and muttered one final sentence. “Have a nice night Mr. Harrington. I’ll see you next Thursday for dinner.”

By the time she had gotten back from the store, a solid 5 hours had passed. She honked the horn twice before popping her trunk to start unloading a few of the bags. If she had to guess in that moment, she would have said that there were enough groceries for two or three trips to get him into the house.

She grabbed a few bags as her boyfriend came running out.

“Can you just grab a few of those, I’m gonna come back out to grab some more after I set these down.”

“Absolutely I can.” She thanked him before wandering into the house, partially haphazardly as to not knock anything over with the bags on her arm. She set them on the kitchen counter and went to go back out, only to see Steve trying to carry every single other bag.

“Can you open the door wider babe?” She heard his voice shout out to her, sending her into a fit of giggles as she opened it further. He stumbled and bumbled throughout the house, trying to maneuver himself to the kitchen. He dropped the bags down onto the counter and let out a sigh before collapsing on the floor. “I’m dead. Dying. I won’t make it. Tell my mom I love her.” He said overdramatically from the floor. Y/N’s laugh illuminated the room as she dropped to the floor next to him. One of his eyes popped open and a half smile spread on his face.

“You are so absurdly dramatic.”

“You love it.” He mimicked her words this morning. She slapped his shoulder before pulling him up. They worked around each other trying to put away every grocery she had bought today.

“Tell me about your day love, I wanna hear how it went.”

“Lunch with your mom was great, she asked me about my life, my job, she asked about how we met and started dating. And she just reassured me a lot, she’s really wonderful. And don’t worry she didn’t embarrass you yet.”

“I’m glad it was a good time, I knew you guys would get along. When are you guys doing it again?” He asked, reaching over her to place a jar in the cupboard. He smiled down at her when he heard a light gasp from her not realizing the proximity. There was no one in the world made Y/N feel the way Steve makes her feel. The feeling of giddiness, that wasn’t quite the same as the butterflies she felt before. This time it was less nerves, and more excitement. Excitement that this was her person. That feeling of comfort whenever he was around, the warmth he provides both physically and emotionally. That feeling of luck she gets whenever she looks him in the eyes. It takes her breath away every time, she was lucky enough to be here with him.

“Well, that’s the thing. We made plans to have dinner together here next week. All of us, not just me and your mom.”

“Y/N…” Frustration laced Steve’s voice, and she knew it was going to get worse when she told him about what happened with his dad. “Why would you do that without talking to me first?”

“She asked and I didn’t think, I just agreed. We were having fun.”

“My dad is going to be such a prick.” Was this her sign? She needed to know it might be smart to tell him but she didn’t want to address it directly.

“Hopefully after today he won’t be.” She mumbled under her breath. Hoping, praying that he did not hear her.

“Huh?” He asked from the fridge.

“I need to tell you about something I did.” Her voice became dead serious in that moment. Chills spread across her body and she could feel her hands start to shake, grasping them together to hide it. He turned around swiftly, a look of concern spreading across his face. His eyes immediately went to find hers, but rather hers were turned to the ground.

“Y/N…you can tell me. It’s okay.”

“So, after Lunch, I went to the store, and while I was there I ran into your dad. And we chatted for a moment, before he made an offhand remark about you. And something took over and I…” She stopped in her tracks. “I told him to stop degrading you. Both to me and to you, and I told him that he was who ruined your self esteem and…I just yelled at him for how he treats you.” His brows furrowed and he ran his hands through his hair, tugging the top with one hand. His breath became very audible and he turned away from her. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Y/N begged to him. “Steve, please talk to me. I need to hear how you feel about this.”

“That wasn’t your place.” He said, sharply.

“In a way it was. He was talking to me about you, and I care a lot about you, enough about you to defend you against him.”

“Why? What could he have possibly said that needed your defense?” His anger was almost timid, like it was a cauldron on the cusp of boiling. Like it was building.

“He said you were never one to help, and then he dared to say that he knew you better than I did. As if he knows anything about you.”

“What if he does? What if he does know me better? He has been in my life for longer than you have. He fucking raised me. He’s MY father, Y/N. Not yours. I’m not a baby, I don’t need your protection.”

“Steve, you basically cried in my arms last week when he called you an embarrassment. You’ve told me how awful he makes you feel about yourself.”

“That still doesn’t mean you can blatantly disrespect him. You’re not the one who should be saying those things to him. I just-“ He was cut off by the phone ringing next to her. She took a deep breath and put on her customer service voice.

“Hello?” Fake enthusiasm dripped from her tone. From the other end of the phone Robin spewed on and on about why she had to go to her parents house and why she was gonna be late. Y/N just muttered along with understanding, not really worried about Robin’s scenario. “Yeah, yeah. I get it Rob. I’ve still got some groceries to put away, so I’m gonna go. I’ll see you whenever.” She heard the other end of the line cut off and before she could even put the phone back on the receiver Steve started again.

“Y/N, I just, why did you think that was a good thing to do?” He sneered at her, a way that he had never spoken to her before.

“I thought it was a good thing to do because I love and care about you. But sorry for that.” She started waving her hands at him while she shouted, phone still in hand. “Sorry that I don’t care that I have the conventionally better job. I don’t care that you never went to college, or any of the other stupid shit he worries about. Sorry that I don’t want to see you breaking inside every single time we have to see that man. But what do I know? I apparently don’t have good ide-“ Before she could finish the word ideas the phone was flung from her hand towards Steve. Completely accidental, but none the less fueled by her anger. It hit his shoulder with a thud.

“I can’t even look at you right now. I can’t take this seriously.” His eyes flashed from the phone to her and immediately back to the floor. He stormed off to his room, chuckling furiously under his breath, stranding Y/N to put the rest of groceries away.

For the rest of the night, all Y/N could do was sit and stew in her room. She knew he wasn’t gonna want to talk, at least not tonight, considering how viscerally angry he seemed to be. And she was starting to understand why, even if it was only a little. Her mind kept wandering and stumbling back to Steve. Especially how rooms felt emptier without him in them. There was no one she wanted to hang out with more in the world with him. Even if that meant they sat doing separate tasks, silently in the same room.

She drifted to sleep imagining Steve was in the bed next her, rubbing her back just the way she liked. Whispering to her gently, right before she fell asleep, ‘I love you’.

In the morning, her eyes peeled open and she immediately remembered what happened with Steve. She walked to his bedroom and tentatively knocked on the door. It was in that moment that she realized how foreign it was for her to be near his room, let alone in his room. It was always hers. When she heard no answer except a grumble, she squeaked the door open a tad.

“Hey. Can we talk? I don’t want to just leave this unresolved.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, come here.” This was how she remembered him, his voice soft and comforting, letting her know that everything was alright. She didn’t start laughing until he pulled a football helmet from under his bed and placed it on his head. She laughed and laughed until she swatted at his arm to take it off. He took off the helmet, laughing all the same and turned to face her. This time gazing fully and deeply into her eyes. It seemed like that was his favorite place to be.

“I want to apologize. It wasn’t my place to interfere in something very clearly just between you and your dad. I just get so protective and defensive, and frankly mean whenever anyone says something negative about someone I care about. I’m really sorry Stevie, I won’t let that side of me come out again and I’ll make sure to apologize to your dad as well.”

“Please don’t do that. He doesn’t deserve an apology, because you were right. I appreciate your apology but I think I was only mad because it was something I should have done ages ago. All my life he told me I needed to be more of a man, and when I thought I became the man he wanted me to be, he hated me for being a delinquent. And now, when I feel like I’m the most mature I’ve ever been, he is still treating me less than that. I think I got mad because you had the balls to do something I haven’t been able to. So thank you, and I’m sorry.”

“You are ten times more of a man than he will ever be Steve Harrington. You are the funniest, most compassionate, thoughtful, loving, comforting--granted horniest, but wonderful person I have ever and will ever know. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life laughing in your arms, regardless of what that man you’re related to has to say about it.”

“I love you so much Y/N Y/l/N.”

“I love you even more Steve Harrington.” They met in the middle for a short but sweet kiss.

“I’m sorry for being an ass last night, but Jesus did you have to throw the phone?” He rubbed his shoulder, and badly acting like he was in pain.

“Hey! That was a complete accident and you know it.” A loud chuckle tore through the room from Steve. He pulled her into him, her face pressing softly into his chest. She brought in a sniff, fully taking him in. This was comfort to her. This was peace, and she wished that stay there forever. She wishes that he would stay with her forever. She knew that the best thing for both of them was to just stay.

#steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you

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geminisholland · 4 years

Note

Hi! What would you think about writing a fic where Tom and reader are both working on a show or movie or something, and they have feelings for each other, but they're too nervous to do anything, and then they both end up in a prop closet or something alone, and then ✨stuff✨ happens? If not that's fine!!

a/n: uhhh i got really carried away with this, and am really obsessed with the idea so thank u for sending it over!! also actress!reader is like my favorite trope to read so it really was no shock this was my favorite to write! i also did my best to portray tom as the gemini man he is. also, my inbox is open, send over requests!

warnings: cussing, sexual tension u could cut with a knife, an intense make out sesh (no smut)

word count: 2211

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the long nights on set were beginning to catch up with you and your costars. every day you felt more delusional, surviving only by the caffeine that tom would bring every morning. it was really a routine at this point, you’d sit down in the chair of the hair and makeup trailer, and one minute later tom would stroll in with your exact order.

“and an iced matcha for the diva,” he liked to joke. that was his nickname for you, diva. he thought that maybe you’d pick up on his flirting if he started calling you names like diva, and princess. you payed no mind to him, because you thought he was making fun of you. that he didn’t take you seriously, and that was frustrating, because, well, you had feelings for him. you weren’t entirely sure how he felt about you, though, and it was driving you insane. you’d convince yourself you would be okay without him, that if he didn’t like you back, you’d survive it. but then he would walk in to the trailer, holding your matcha, and calling you diva. you couldn’t push aside the euphoria that rushed through your body every time he called you that. you actually really enjoyed it, but tried to ignore that as the embarrassment of him making fun of you settled in.

tom was really cocky too, but you assumed that came with being an excellent actor, and being quite successful. you’d talk to your friends about him, because when were you not talking to him? when were you not thinking about him?

“he’s so cocky, maybe i don’t actually have feelings for him,” you’d explain. “he walks around calling me names, who does he think he is?”

your friends would groan, because they heard this everyday. they would go from “yeah he sucks” to “aw, you should tell him how you feel, you two would be so cute together.”

you just felt so stuck. you’d act in scenes with him, and would feel the connection, but as soon as the director yelled cut the connection would turn to a code that you couldn’t decipher. you really couldn’t figure him out.

he would abruptly open your trailer door, and yell, “hey princess, let’s get going they’re ready for us!”

you’d roll your eyes, but walk with him to set anyways, because you enjoyed his presence. you were friends, at this point. he would invite you to his place for game nights, and take you out to dinner during particularly hard days. he would show up to your place, unannounced, with a pack of truly’s- just cause. you would give him rides to set, and get him his favorite food when he’s filming. you tried not to think about how often he would send you the “you up?” text, because you didn’t want to convince yourself this was something, when there was a possibility it was nothing.

but, you really liked him. he was tom holland, your celebrity crush. the person you’d call when you’re sad. the person who you’d run scenes with for hours on end, and never get tired of being around him. the person who you could just look at, and feel safe. he was home to you, you just didn’t know he felt the same. so, when the electricity went out during a particularly bad storm in Atlanta, and you and tom were in the supplies closet alone, you weren’t exactly prepared for what was about to happen.

“you really ordered an iced matcha while there’s, like, a borderline hurricane happening outside?” tom exclaimed. he stared at you as you stood up, and grabbed the drink from his hand.

“yes, i really did,” you shot back. “what are you gonna do? call me a ‘diva’?” you smiled at him, and his eyes slowly moved down your body than back up to meet your eyes. yes, he really did just check you out, but you were sure you only imagined that in your head.

“i might,” tom replied, then sat in the chair next to you. “it’s still early, though. there’s time to catch up on the name-calling.”

“i’m looking forward to it,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. sometimes pushing tom was fun. tom shot you a glare, and you smiled to yourself as you sat back down.

“weather is crazy, huh?” tom observed. “i’m not the biggest fan of big storms like this.”

you looked over at him, noticing the concern on his face.

“i think they’re fun, i absolutely love just sitting at the window, and watching rain,” you confessed. the two of you were looking at each other, the only noise was the rain outside the trailer. your heart was beating so hard, you were certain tom could hear it. just the two of you, alone in a trailer. nothing new, yet something felt wildly different this time. perhaps it was tom’s vulnerability due to the storm happening outside.

the feelings you were marinating in were disrupted by the trailer doors being opened, and the makeup artists walking in.

“so sorry we’re late, the storm is insane,” one of them apologized.

“no need to be sorry, tanya, we’re just glad you got here safely,” you replied. tom nodded his head in agreement, and they started to work their magic on the two of you. while in the makeup chair, you and tom decided at the beginning of filming that you would switch who plays the music every day. so, your day to play the music was today, and even though the two of you agreed on this, tom complained.

“why can’t i just play the music today? you always play the same songs,” he whined. you rolled your eyes at him, trying to ignore him.

“oh god not taylor swift again!” tom groaned. you loved that even though you were the one who was perceived as dramatic, tom was actually the diva.

“tom, shut up,” you said back. “you are so annoying when it comes to this shit.”

you looked over at him, and he was looking at you. his eyes sparkled in the light, and you felt your stomach flutter at the way he stared you down. you looked away, staring back down at your phone to try and recover.

a few moments passed, and the two of you were done with hair and makeup. now was the real challenge, getting to the set during the insane storm.

“where’s the umbrella, tom?” you asked while you looked around.

“i have no idea,” he answered. you looked up and glared at him.

“didn’t you bring it over here? i could’ve sworn you were holding one when we walked here twenty minutes ago,” you mocked. tom smiled.

“it’s right here, i’m just messing with you,” he replied.

“you’re so annoying,” you remarked.

you grabbed your script and the matcha, then made your way over, talking about the scenes you were shooting today. this was something the two of you did almost every day, you liked to rehearse your lines before getting on the stage. when the two of you arrived, you set down your script, but kept drinking your matcha as you and tom started blocking. this was something you did before every scene, and was what made your days so long. you had to work out every detail of the scene you’d be filming before actually filming it; which was time-consuming, and sometimes frustrating. you and tom were set up at a table for this scene, sitting across from one another.

“y/n, if you could just move your head more towards the right, we’d get a better shot,” the director called out. so you did, and in doing so, your hand moved with you, and knocked the matcha off the table.

“oh shit,” you said, looking back at the director with an apologetic face. “i’ll clean it up, don’t even worry!”

tom sat across from you, laughing at you as you scooped the ice off the ground, and put it back into your cup.

“that doesn’t sound good,” the director replied.

“no, don’t even worry! i’m totally cleaning this up, it’s gonna be spotless,” you breathed out. you were extremely worried, though. the green liquid covered the floor of the diner set that was built. tom eventually started helping you.

“this is ridiculous, y/n, you can’t scoop the liquid with your hands,” he observed. “let’s go get some paper towels, okay?”

you looked up at him with watery eyes, you were worried that you had just ruined a set that took a while to build.

“okay,” you agreed. the director walked up to the two of you, looking at the spilled drink then back at you.

“i’d think paper towels would be more helpful than your hands, y/n,” he joked. “don’t you think?”

you nodded, “yes, tom and i will be right back with those.”

you and tom walked in silence over to the supplies closet, where they kept the paper towels.

“so embarrassing,” you let out under your breath.

“what was that?” tom asked. he opened the door to the closet, and turned the light on. the closet was huge, so both of you went in to look for the paper towels.

“it’s so embarrassing, doing that in front of everyone,” you admitted. “i shouldn’t have had my drink there.”

tom scoffed, “oh please, we all bring our drinks with us when we’re blocking, anyone could’ve done that!”

you nodded in agreement, uncertain of your voice at the moment, so you opted to stay silent. the lights started flickering right as you found the paper towels.

“that was weird,” tom announced.

“yeah, that was weird,” you replied.

the lights flickered again, and within seconds you were in pitch black.

“wow,” you let out. “tom, where are you?”

“i’m right here,” he said. you laughed, because you thought it was a ridiculous answer. you put your arms out, and tried to walk towards him.

“do you have your phone? i need a flashlight,” you asked.

“no, i left it out there,” he replied.

“shit, me too,” you noted. “put your arms out, i can’t find you.”

“okay,” he said. you walked for a few seconds, then ran into him.

“there you are,” you commented.

“here i am,” he said. the two of you were standing so close, his hot breath was felt on your face. your eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and you could see his features now. you could see his lips. oh my god, you could almost feel his body against yours. you felt butterflies in your stomach as you realized just how close he was to you. you could just touch him, you thought. you could, you really could just grab his face, and kiss him. right here, right now.

“should we try looking for the door?” you asked out loud. the silence was killing you, you had to escape it. tom stood still, breathing harder with every second. “tom?”

“you talk too much, you know that?” he breathed out. you were so taken aback by that statement, your breath grew shaky. “every time i try to make a move, you talk. you just-you talk too much.”

you stood there, in the dark, in absolutely disbelief.

“oh,” you let out. you didn’t know what to do, you were frozen. your eyes were completely adjusted now, and you could see tom more clearly. his face, his arms, his hands, everything. his hands moved up your body, starting at your hips then making their way to your face. you brought your hands around his neck, you were breathing so hard you felt as if you could pass out.

“you are so beautiful, y/n,” he revealed. “so fucking beautiful.”

you smiled, although you weren’t sure he could see that. your hands moved to his face, you cupped his cheeks into your hands. tom moved his face closer to yours, cupping your cheeks as well. he placed his lips onto yours, then started to kiss you. like, really kiss you. not a cute, little peck that you would see in the movies. a rough, passionate kiss. the kiss you had been waiting for all this time. one of his hands dropped to your lower back, and he pushed your body onto his. your hands started to move under his shirt, as your tongues started to swirl together. your cheeks flushed as the warmth of his tongue and body encapsulated you. his hand moved off your cheek, and started to move under your shirt to take it off.

the door abruptly opened, and a bright flashlight made you and tom move your hands up to your face. your bodies broke apart, but the damage was done.

“tom, y/n, we need you back on set, they’re about to turn on the generator,” one of your costars said. “oh, don’t forget the paper towels.” they started laughing, as well as both you and tom.

the three of you walked back, and you wiped your mouth, then looked at tom. he smiled at you, then put his hand around your waist.

you leaned into him, then whispered, “we’ll have to finish that later.”

he shook his head in agreement, “okay, diva.”

taglist;

@zspideyy @lilhoodhippie @th45 @lmaotshollandd @hollandfanficlove

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x actress!reader #geminisholland

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amazingmaeve · 4 years

Text

Cardigan ↠ Sirius Black

━ “i’ve missed you darling.”

summary ━ sirius and y/n were in love at hogwarts. then he cheated on her with her best friend marlene. a couple years later the two run into each other again.

warnings ━ angst, fluff, swearing, kissing

a/n ━ somewhat based on cardigan by taylor Swift, also no voldy au so lily and james are alive. Also one huge time jump.

word count ━ 3.6k

“Sirius stop,” Y/N giggles as she thrashes on the bed. Currently Sirius was ticking her as moments before they were studying. She was supposed to be helping him in one of his classes but he got distracted.

Sirius looked down at his girlfriend with a smile appearing on his face. He truly did love Y/N with all of his heart. He began to press kisses all over her face, stopping his tickling.

“You know I hate that,” Y/N says with a smile referring to the tickling. He knew all the spots that would make her break out in a laugh.

Y/N sometimes wondered how she got together with Sirius. Before they met he usually slept around a lot while she wanted to save her virginity for someone important.

They had gotten paired for a charms assignment. Y/N would never admit it she was quite nervous about being with Sirius. She’s had a crush on him since their first year but he never really noticed her as Y/N didn’t like to be noticed. She usually kept to herself.

Except for her best friend Marlene. She helped Y/N and was always nice to her. She gave her the best advice that a friend could even ask for.

When the two started talking they realized that they had much more in common than Y/N thought. She thought Sirius Black was a narcissist fuck boy.

Y/N found out that he was witty, charming, and surprisingly nice to her.

Sirius always thought that Y/N was just some stuck up girl that thought she was too good for anyone. She came from a pureblood family so when she never talked to anyone he thought she was a pureblood supremacist. He found out that Y/N was smart, shy and didn’t like to have friends.

Sirius and Y/N started to enjoy the time they spent together. But the assignment would make them stop having interaction with each other.

Even after the homework they had done Sirius and Y/N decided to hang out more and soon more feelings developed. Y/N, who already had an attraction towards him, started to emotionally connect to him. Sirius, who thought Y/N was already hot, started to sympathize with her and her family problems since he had the same.

Soon Y/N met Remus, James, Peter, and Lily and soon started to connect with one another.

Sirius asked her out after James and Remus encouraged him to do so when the two figured out that his friend had feelings for the girl.

Y/N was on cloud nine when Sirius asked her out for the first time. At first she thought he was just planking her but soon realized he was very serious. With butterflies in her stomach she said yes to his question while a smile graced her lips.

Their first date was at Hogsmeade and it was magical to Y/N. Sirius kept making flirty comments all night making her feel more and more nervous.

The two talked and got to know each other more and at the end of the night Sirius kissed her before parting to their own rooms.

That night Y/N laid down with a dopey smile on her face. She felt the butterflies erupting in her stomach but she didn’t care. She felt like she was falling in love every second.

“I love you darling,” Sirius says softly as he lays on top of Y/N. She can feel the heat rise to her chest and cheeks.

“I love you more,” Y/N laughs her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. She gives him a cheeky smile playing with his hair on the back of his neck.

“Not possible,” Sirius says in disbelief. She was the light to his darkness in his life and he would never trade that.

“Uh how do you know,” Y/N asks as she sits up pulling him to a seating position. Her eyebrows furrowed in stubbornness.

“I just do,” Sirius says cockily and pulls her into a kiss straight after.

After the kiss she lays her head on his chest. Sirius pulls her hand to his intertwining their fingers.

They just lay there with Y/N on Sirius’s chest in a comfortable silence. His heartbeat calmed her down as she fell asleep on the boy's chest. Once realizing she’s asleep, Sirius kisses her forehead before attempting to leave her bed.

Only he couldn’t. Y/N had such a grip on him which made him stay. Sirius wrapped his arms around her and eventually fell asleep himself.

A few weeks later Y/N was alone in her bed wrapped in the blankets since it was especially cold. She let out a sigh as she rested her head on the pillow.

The night before the Gryffindors had thrown a party where everyone was drinking from the victory of the quidditch match. It wasn’t that much fun to Y/N.

Her and Sirius were supposed to have a date that night and she understood going to the party. But she’d expect him to at least talk to her that night.

Sirius spent most of the night talking and laughing to his friends. Y/N also saw him flirting with her best friend Marlene and she yelled at them before storming to her bed room.

She laid down and cried herself to sleep.

Now as she lays on her bed she might have blown things out of proportion. Maybe they were just talking and Y/N was just extremely jealous. Making something out of nothing she thought to herself.

She got up and got ready for her classes. It was early but Y/N wanted to go and see Sirius and apologize to him before classes began. She didn’t want her relationship with Sirius to be over because of one little spat.

Y/N treads across the floor to the boys room hoping that the other marauders were awake and somewhere else. Luckily she saw them walk to the main hall avoiding eye contact. That made her confused but she shook it off.

She sighed as she touched the door handle. She didn’t know what to say to him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be a jealous girlfriend’ would that work? Hopefully she thought.

Y/N turned the door knob with a smile to greet Sirius with. The smile quickly faded as she noticed someone else in the bed with him.

“Sirius,” Y/N snapped loudly as the boy was still sleeping. He groaned cuddling into the girl even more making Y/N more and more angry. Once she got a look at the girl Y/N scoffed as she saw Marlene.

“Go away prongs I’m tired,” Sirius groaned thinking it was James.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Sirius,” Y/N yelled louder, her voice full of anger seeing the boy she was in love with and one of her best friends in bed. She had mixed emotions, sadness and anger were the main ones.

Y/N could see Sirius' eyes widen in shock as he realizes he’s not cuddling with the girl he’s in love with. And the girl who has his heart is standing at the foot of the bed with anger written on her face.

Marlene and Sirius move apart noticing the girl.

“Love this isn’t-,” Sirius began to defend himself and got his boxers on but was soon interrupted. Meanwhile Marlene got her clothes on and left knowing the two need to talk.

“Stop,” Y/N snaps. Her voice is harsh which makes Sirius flinch at the tone. “I just want to know one thing,” She asks, her voice dripping in sadness.

Sirius’s eyes stay on his lap not wanting to meet her gaze. He most importantly didn’t want to see the tears that were gonna form.

“Did you ever even love me,” She asks, feeling drained. That question makes Sirius’s head snap up and pull himself to his feet.

“Of course I do love, I do still love you,” Sirius admits, walking over to put his hands on her cheek. She moves her face away from his hands which makes his face sadden even more.

“I can’t believe that I was gonna apologize for being a jealous girlfriend. Turns out my instincts were right,” Y/N bites her lip to keep her tears in. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Sirius tries to reassure getting his school clothes on.

“We’re done,” Y/N snaps as she walks out of the room slamming the door making Sirius flinch again.

Sirius sighs and sits on his bed putting his hand in his face as tears gather. He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was just one drunken mistake.

When Y/N yelled at him he thought a good idea was to sleep with Marlene. That was his drunken reasoning. He can’t believe he did this. He hurt the person he most cares about and he can’t even do anything about it.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. He ruined everything.

The rest of the day went by slow since Y/N had all of her classes with Sirius. It was hard seeing him and not talking to him. Marlene tried apologizing multiple times but Y/N shut it down not wanting to hear anymore excuses.

After a long day of school and avoiding people she realized that it was close to the end of her last year which was good. But the thought of not seeing Sirius still made her sad but quickly shut those thoughts.

She couldn’t keep thinking of Sirius. It hurt to think but Y/N was still in love with him which made some tears start to fall.

Luckily she was in the common room and most people were at Hogsmeade celebrating the end of the year. Y/N was happy since she took her N.E.W.T.s, which was hard since she took 8 of them, but she got significantly good grades. Even the good news of that didn’t make her feel any better.

She sat on the sofa putting her head in her hands letting the tears finally fall. She hated Sirius so much but Y/N couldn’t just stop loving him. He was in her life for a year and she can’t just erase that as much as she’d like to.

As Y/N quietly sobs into her hands Remus enters the room wanting to turn in for the night. But he stopped in his tracks as he saw her crying.

Remus knew the reason Y/N was crying. He cursed his best friend for breaking her heart and doing this to her.

He sighed and walked around to the couch to sit next to her. Remus opened his arms out for her. She accepts and lunges into his open arms crying into his chest.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Remus reassures using his fingers to put some of her hair behind her ear. She continues to cry through the heartbreak, her arms right around his waist.

“It hurts so much,” Y/N sniffles leaning up from his chest. Her eyes puffy and wet from the sobbing. “I thought he loved me.”

“He does, I know it,” Remus reassures her sternly. He knows Sirius screwed everything but Remus also knows that Sirius loves her and it was a mistake.

“He cheated on me. He broke my heart, my trust. How can you defend him,” Y/N looks at him in disbelief. When her and Sirius got together, he knew that she was a virgin and wanted to wait for someone who was special. And Y/N thought Sirius was that guy and she was going to let him.

Luckily she didn’t.

“He’s my best friend of course I’m going to defend him, but I’m not going to let him get a free ride for screwing up,” Remus explains softly and Y/N gets up as she scoffs.

“I can’t forgive him I just can’t,” Y/N whispers before walking away from Remus leaving him to think all alone.

Soon the ending of the year came and just like that four years passed.

For the last four years Y/N got a job as curse breaker and enjoyed the job. Other than that she didn’t do much, she didn’t have any friends except from work. She never got a boyfriend not trusting any guy that could potentially break her heart.

For a little while she kept in touch with James, Lily, and Remus. But soon enough they stopped calling so Y/N focused on her work.

Oftentimes she wondered what Sirius was doing, she also wondered what it would be like if he didn’t cheat on her. Would things be different? Would they be together? This is what Y/N usually thought about at night.

She shook those thoughts out thinking Sirius probably found a girlfriend and moved on. Y/N always thought she could move on but the wound Sirius left was big and no one could heal it so far.

So Y/N gave up on love at the moment.

After a long day at work she enters her flat. She stretches her arms and yawns, it was a hard day at work and very tiring. She sits on her bed and notices a note on the table besides her bed.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She reached her arm out to grab it and opened it. As Y/N read the letter she sighed as the words flowed in her mind.

A fucking reunion.

A reunion for all the people at Hogwarts and it was at Lily and James potters house. Y/N sat there for a few minutes contemplating on what to do. This could let her reunite with her teachers who were always proud of her. But on the other hand Sirius was probably going to be there and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

She puts the letter down and runs her fingers through her fingers getting some of the tiny knots out. Fuck it she thinks. She’ll go. It’s a risk but hopefully it’ll be fun.

A few weeks later Y/N stands in front of James and Lily’s house straightening her dress out. The last weeks were stressful but luckily work kept her busy most of the time. At night she thinks, what will I do if I see Sirius. Run the opposite direction suggests to herself but rolls her eyes thinking she’s crazy for talking to herself.

She tried making herself look presentable and hopefully succeeded. She sighed as she raised her hand to knock on the door. It took a few minutes before someone answered and that someone was the one and only Sirius Black.

His smile soon faded as he saw who was at the door. In her head this was the worst luck that could have ever happened to her.

“Can I come in,” Y/N asks as politely as she can. Sirius nods opening the door wider to let the girl inside. As soon as she’s in she gets as far away from him as possible.

“Y/N you made it,” Lily says surprised as Y/N runs into her.

“Yep thought I might show up,” Y/N says awkwardly rocking on her heels. She shouldn’t have come think to herself. “Well I’ve got to use the toilet,” She says before running off to the bathroom.

She locks the door with a sigh. Y/N looks at herself in the mirror. She’s already ran into two people she didn’t want to see. This night couldn’t get any worse.

She takes a seat on the toilet rubbing her fingers through her hair feeling stressed out. God it’s going to be a long night. Before she leaves the bathroom she redos her makeup so it looks better after messing it up.

Once she opens the door she paints a smile on her face to pretend she wasn’t having a freak out moment.

For the rest of the night she avoids the marauders by talking to some teachers who wanted to know what she was doing now. And Y/N thought that was it nothing interesting was going to happen that night.

How wrong was she.

Y/N thought she should apologize to Lily for being so flighty so she looks through the rooms to see if the redhead is anywhere. What she finds is worse.

She opens a door to this room and sees Sirius making out with Marlene.

“Oh god I’m so sorry,” Y/N gasps running out of the room. Of course they got together. They would be a much better couple than they ever did.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t be upset. Her and Sirius were broken up; she can’t feel like this. Hopefully they’ll work out better than her and Sirius ever did.

After that Y/N couldn’t be there anymore. She didn’t want to talk to Sirius and it to be awkward so she left and apparated to her flat, she got her heels off. They were killing her feet all night and she sighs in relief as they come off.

She gets her sweat pants and t-shirt on and gets settled into bed processing everything that went on that night. Sirius and Marlene come to mind. Instead of being spiteful she hopes they have a good life and that she can finally move on from Sirius and be happy herself.

In the next week Lily calls surprising Y/N. She didn’t think Lily would like to talk to her after her and Sirius were over.

They scheduled a lunch at her house to talk and catch up since they couldn’t at the party. Y/N couldn’t say no, Lily was being so nice to her and she didn’t want to be a bitch.

“I can’t believe you have a kid,” Y/N happily laughs as she sees Lily with her son Harry. He was only a few months old.

“I can’t either, life goes on so fast,” Lily smiles, kissing the top of Harry’s head as he sits in her lap. “Now that you know what I’ve been up to, what have you been doing these past four years,” She asks curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Well I became a curse breaker,” Y/N fiddles with her fingers in her lap.

“Anyone special in your life,” Lily asks, taking a sip of her tea. Y/N sighs not wanting to say what a colossal failure her love life has been.

“Nothing much haven’t caught a guy's heart,” Y/N half jokes with a laugh. “But I just want to focus on my job,” She says in a more serious tone, looking Lily in her green orbs.

“Sirius asks about you,” Lily brings up the boy.

“I don’t understand why I saw him making out with Marlene at the party,” Y/N asks confused, why would Sirius ask about her when he’s dating someone else.

“They aren’t dating, it's just a friends with benefits thing,” Lily corrects. After Sirius broke Y/N’s heart she was mad at him for some time but soon realized that he knew what mistake he made. Lily knows he still loves Y/N, he just made a mistake.

Before Y/N could say anything, the door to the house opened as booming laughter came through the halls.

“Lily sweetheart-,” James calls out, entering the room and stops talking after seeing Y/N sitting there. Sirius and Remus follow soon after and Sirius can feel his heart stop as he sees Y/N sitting there.

An awkward silence flows across the room as Y/N keeps her eyes on the ground not wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“We’ll give you some space,” Lily says comfortingly, taking baby Harry with her. When Remus or James don’t follow Lily comes back and hits them on the back of their heads. “Now,” Lily says sternly.

“I thought you loved me,” James says sarcastically following his love with Remus following him chuckling at his friend.

As soon as the three leaves Sirius makes his way towards the couch sitting next to Y/N whose eyes are still watching the ground. Sirius put his hand on hers the one on the couch.

“What do you want Sirius,” Y/N asks, tears gathering in her eyes. Sirius gives her hand a squeeze making her look up. He removes his hand from hers to put it on her cheek wiping the one tear that fell away.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius apologizes.

“Sirius it’s been years you don’t need to apologize all over again,” Y/N scoffs.

“Please just let me get this out and then you don’t have to see me ever again okay,” Sirius asks softly and Y/N hesitantly nods. “For the past years I regret not trying harder to get you back. And I know that you probably wouldn’t have taken me back but I should've tried. You were the love of my life, still the love of my life. I shouldn’t have let you down like this,” Sirius goes on and Y/N feels the same butterflies in her stomach from the first day she spoke to him.

“What about Marlene,” Y/N asks, remembering the party. Lily explained it to her; she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t covering for Sirius.

“Just a fling,” Sirius nervously chuckles. “You think we can try again,” He asks nervousness crawling in his stomach.

“Yes,” Y/N says a few seconds after he spoke. His eyes light up but Y/N puts her finger up. “But we take it slowly, we shouldn’t rush into this,” She explains. Sirius nods agreeing with her.

Sirius brings her into a hug. Y/N didn’t hug back at first but finally sank into his arms, resting her head on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat which calms the butterflies in her stomach.

“I’ve missed you darling.”

#sirius black blurb #sirius black one shot #sirius black smut #sirius black headcanon #sirius black imagine #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #sirius black #marauders #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers.

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

Tag List

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#better now #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

50 notes · View notes

blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

Some People Do | Nathan MacKinnon

title from an Old Dominion song of the same name. highly recommend a listen while reading.

the only other words I have are that I cried while writing this.

length: 6.2k words

I know that time just keeps going on And words by themselves can't right all the wrongs

No one ever claimed that dating an NHL player was easy. In fact, it was hard as hell. Dating the face of a franchise, the savior of a franchise, was hard as hell. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Nate. You loved him more than anyone else, more than you sometimes thought was possible. But sometimes you wondered if your relationship was doomed from the start, if carrying the weight of the expectations of Denver on Nate’s shoulders was too much for both of you to handle.

Nate had proclaimed himself unromantic before, but you didn’t really need flowers and extravagant gifts. With Nate, it was always the little things. He would cook you breakfast in the mornings before you left for work and he for practice. He would sneak into your apartment when you had a long day at work and clean up. (Never laundry though. He always said he was too scared of fucking that up.) It was letting you cuddle on the couch, no questions asked, no words spoken, on days you really needed it; he always seemed to know about those days even before you did. You knew the other boys teased Nate sometimes, everything from ribbing him about being whipped to roasting him for his somewhat abysmal gift-giving skills. Nate would just blush and give them that shy little smile you loved so much.

That’s the way things were for a long time. You were both happy, comfortable. You wondered sometimes, on the hardest nights, if you had gotten too comfortable. If you had forgotten just where you were, who you were with, and how lucky you were that Nate had ever given you the time of day in the first place.

You missed the drama of the Avalanche’s historically bad, never-before-seen debacle of a year that had been the 2016-2017 season and came into Nate’s life when they were back on their feet, making a name for themselves in the standings again. You still saw the damage it had done to him, though, in the way he blamed himself for losses, took them a little harder than anyone else– except maybe Gabe– in the way he dialed up his intensity even stronger than ever until he was satisfied. Except he was never satisfied, probably would never be, bar winning a Cup or three.

The Avs dug themselves out a hole. And then they hit a wall again.

It was the same old shit that always seemed to dog the team, injury after injury, games that just never seemed to go their way, no matter how hard they fought.

October started out fine. They won more than they lost, and it looked like they could have a chance at being something this year. The end of October came with a string of losses. Mikko went down with a lower-body injury on Halloween.

November continued a downward spiral. Nate stopped scoring, Burky broke his wrist, and they only won a handful of games the entire month. Nate started coming home late from the arena, sweaty and exhausted; you knew he was running himself ragged, literally, on the treadmill and on drills. His blue eyes were hard as stone, and the set of his jaw grew more tense with each loss the team strung together.

Road trips were the hardest. From the start of your relationship, you and Nate made a point to FaceTime during roadies. You looked forward to those calls all day, because no matter how terrible the game had been, Nate would see you and smile. You would always do anything for him to smile. The calls continued that terrible season, and for a while, it seemed like nothing had changed. Nate’s eyes were more tired than usual, his brow permanently furrowed, but you would answer the phone, and that would all disappear for a moment when he grinned at you.

You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. You were surprised to see that it was Nate. You hadn’t been officially dating for very long at all, and he had only left for the road trip that morning.

“What the hell is on your head?” was the first thing out of Nate’s mouth when you answered the call. Somewhere off camera, you could hear Tyson Barrie cackling.

Your hand flew up to your hair, which was wrapped in a towel. “It’s a towel, dumbass. And I just got out of the shower, I’m not wearing makeup or anything,” you whined.

Nate rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Tyson leaned into frame. “Hi, Y/N!” he yelled. Nate flinched.

There was a moment of darkness and what sounded like the two wrestling on the bed for a moment, before a whispered, “Get out of here!” and a door closing. “I’m sorry about him,” Nate said, picking his phone back up.

You just laughed. You had only met Tyson one time so far, and he seemed like fun, if not a little crazy. “Let me just-” You reached up to tug the towel off your head.

“No, don’t! I mean, I think it’s cute,” Nate said. You froze, staring at his blurry face on your phone screen. You were pretty sure he was blushing in the shitty hotel light. “I just- I missed you, and I don’t care what you look like. I mean-wait, I don’t want you to think you need to have makeup or shit on for me to think you’re beautiful.” Yeah, he was definitely blushing now. He was also smiling a little bit, cautiously, as if he was afraid of your response.

You smiled back, settling in against the pillows on your bed, and saying, “Nate, I literally saw you this morning.” He shrugged.

“Wanted to see your face again,” he mumbled. Then, “Can I call you tomorrow after our game, too?”

He did call you the next night, and the night after that, and then roadtrip FaceTime calls became a routine.

As the season went on, you waited by the phone every night Nate was out of town, but slowly the calls became few and far between, until they stopped entirely.

Most wouldn't forgive what I put you through But I'm here tonight, hoping some people do

Nate started watching game film obsessively, coming home and sitting up for hours. He would watch his own clips, his teammates’ clips, clips from every other team, watching for any mistake or flaw, some way to fix this. He’d always been so serious about schedules and routines, but he started coming to bed later and later. You always tried to get Nate to come to bed with you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and murmuring a, “Babe, c’mon, it’s getting late,” but he’d shrug you off and say back, “Just a few more minutes.”

You resigned yourself to going to bed alone. Cox started laying in Nate’s spot on the bed.

The Penguins came to town. The slump continued, for the team and for Nate. Nate got benched. It was December, and all the Crosbys and MacKinnons had come to town, too, planning to celebrate Christmas a little early while everyone could be together.

Bednar had told Nate he wouldn’t be playing against the Pens following a morning skate. Cale told you he had broken his stick against a wall afterwards. His temper followed him home, came back with a vengeance, and you would never forget the sadness on Taylor’s face and the anger on Sarah’s when he snapped at Taylor over something stupid and let the door slam behind him for good measure. He didn’t talk to any of you for the rest of the night, and he drove to the arena alone.

The Avs won in a game that was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Nate came home in a slightly better mood, apologized to Taylor, and started channeling his anger into his time on the ice instead. It might have had something to do with the fact that you were sure he hadn’t missed the way you flinched when he had yelled.

The end of December saw a win streak for the Avs and a scoring streak for Nate.

“I thought about asking for a trade,” Nate said casually one January night. It was the All-Star break, and Nate had found a cabin on a lake in California to rent for bye week. He didn’t look up at you as he said it, gazing instead up at the stars, and your heart broke.

Nate’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and it had been a comforting weight, but suddenly it felt like it would crush you. You hadn’t been in Denver for the drama of the last teammate that had requested a trade midseason, but you knew the tale, knew the bitterness that was still in that locker room. You knew how it could destroy a team. And you’d had no idea Nate was even considering it.

He kept talking. “Thought about trying to go somewhere where people didn’t care about hockey, somewhere where it didn’t matter if I had been a fluke.” His voice broke. “I just want out sometimes. Get away from all the fucking expectations, the hope that I’ll bring the Cup back to Denver, that I can be the next Sidney Crosby, just the next best thing out of Cole Harbour.” It was the first time you had ever heard Nate say Sid’s name like that, with venom and bitterness.

You were speechless, couldn’t find the words to respond to Nate. You weren’t even sure he wanted you to respond, to argue with him. So you just shrugged off his arm from your shoulders and pulled him into your chest, resting your chin on his head as you watched the stars together.

The trade deadline passed. Nate still wore an A for the Colorado Avalanche, and no one would ever know any differently.

I know you're hurt, I know it's my fault But I've kept "I'm sorry" locked in a vault

You called Sid late one night in March. He answered quickly, because he always did when you or Nate called, even though it was after midnight in Pittsburgh.

“Sid, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you had cried, with Cox curled up next to you on the couch in the dark. Nate was asleep upstairs, gone to bed early for the first time in a long time. Cox heard your tears and shoved his face into your hand, asking for attention, letting you use him as comfort. You petted him absently as you told Sid everything. And Sid listened, even as you told him stories of the season he already knew, told to him by Nate in similar late night phone conversations, even as it ticked past 1 in the morning in Denver. Sid waited until you finished talking before responding, spewing sympathy and advice that you only half listened to, still caught up in your thoughts.

In the best days of your relationship and in your worst, you didn’t know what you would do without Sid.

You thought back to the first summer you visited Nate in Cole Harbour. You hadn’t gone the first summer after you’d started dating, as you’d only been together a couple of months, although Nate had begged you pretty much the entire summer. The next summer, though, there was absolutely no getting out of visiting.

You had never been to Canada before, and you had grown up spending your summers on a lake, but you were convinced nothing would ever compare to Nova Scotia. Nate had laughed at you when you ran out onto his deck, a wide smile on your face. You spun around to look up at him.

“I love it here,” you said. Nate laughed again.

“You’ve barely even been here. You haven’t seen the good stuff yet.”

“I have a house, water, and you, what else is there to see?” Nate chuckled fondly at you.

You spent the day out on the water with Nate, Sid and the dogs. It was peaceful out there in the sun, the silence only occasionally broken by Sid’s ridiculous laugh or one of the dog’s barks. You were dozing in the sun when Nate came over to you.

“Come swimming with me for a bit.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m tanning, Nathan.” Sid laughed. Next thing you knew, you were being picked up and thrown over Nate’s shoulder. Sid laughed louder. Sometimes you really hated him and that fucking laugh. “Nate!” you shrieked. “Put me down!”

Nate simply said, “Okay,” before he was throwing you in the lake. You came up spluttering. Nate and Sid were both doubled over in laughter, and dogs were caught up in the excitement and barking.

“Help me out,” you whined, reaching a hand out of the water. Nate took pity on you and grabbed your hand.

You pulled him headfirst down into the water.

Sid came up to you on the dock on your last night in Cole Harbour. Nate was up at the house, getting you a blanket and more wine, and you were watching the stars.

“You’re really good for him, you know,” Sid said without preamble, settling next to you on the dock. You waited for him to continue. “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he has been this week with you here.” You blushed. “And you should hear the way he talks about you on the phone, God, I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to get him out of his head and stop focusing on hockey, I don’t know how you do it.” He paused, gazing up at the clear sky.When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Nate takes everything so seriously. He’s gotten pretty fucked up over bad relationships in the past. I was a little worried when I saw how fast he was falling for you, when he’d call or text me like a middle-school girl with a crush. But I don’t have to worry, because you two are so good together, like you’ve known each other forever, and will be together forever.”

Nate chose that moment to reappear. “Talkin’ about me?” he asked, pushing Sid out of the way so he could sit next to you.

“Only good things,” Sid smiled.

Nate draped his arm across your shoulders and the blanket over your legs. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” Nate whispered into your hair, brushing a kiss to the top of your head.

Nate came downstairs not long after you hung up with Sid. He found you crying on the couch, trying to muffle your sobs into the sleeves of one of his Avalanche hoodies. He made a soft, wounded sound, and you startled. You didn’t have a chance to apologize– for waking Nate, for breaking down– before he was climbing onto the couch next to you. He pulled you into his lap wordlessly, kissing away your tears, holding you as you shook.

He whispered sweet things to you as you calmed down, I’m sorrys and I love yous breaking the silence of the night. Cox whined, crawling his way into your lap as well. Nate’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing even, and you found yourself soothed by it. The two– well, three, if you counted the German Shepherd who was decidedly not a lap dog– fell asleep on the couch like that. When you woke up again, sunlight was streaming into the living room, and you were still safely wrapped up in Nate’s arms.

He looked younger, softer, in his sleep, the burden of being Nathan MacKinnon momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but stare, a soft smile on your face. Nate shifted under you a couple of minutes later, eyes blinking sleepily open. He grinned when he found you inches from his face, already watching him.

“Good morning,” he whispered, stretching up to kiss you gently. “D’you want breakfast?”

You buried your face in Nate’s neck. “In a minute,” you mumbled. “Comfy.” Nate laughed, loud, and you felt it in every inch of your body that was touching his.

As you sat sipping your coffee in the kitchen later, watching Nate cook you breakfast, like he had for so long, you could almost convince yourself that everything was fine, that the stress fractures of your relationship weren’t on the verge of breaking completely.

Some people say sorry to hear it's okay But I know it's not so you don't have to say That you understand 'cause I know you don't

In the living room where you had left your phone after last night’s phone call, you got a text. Then another. And another. Nate’s phone started ringing; his face went white, and he dropped the spatula he was using.

Confused, and starting to get worried, you set your coffee down and rushed to pick up your phone. The first thing you saw was a text from Mel, simply saying, “i’m so sorry.” Nate was still on the phone in the kitchen, speaking in an anxious hushed tone to whoever was on the other end. You ignored the handful of other texts you had received in favor of looking at your Instagram and Twitter notifications which were blowing up. You clicked on one with a shaky hand.

Your heart dropped. Your phone fell to the floor with a clatter.

In the kitchen, Nate’s voice rose, but you couldn’t hear any of the words he was saying over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

You sank to the floor and picked up your phone again. You had been tagged in a series of pictures, all of Nate. There was Nate with a girl in a bar, with a girl in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, his lips on hers. There was more than one post, too, all dated, starting all the way back in November. All nights when Nate and the Avs were on road trips. Different cities, too, but always the same girl.

Blonder than you. Prettier than you. Better than you, apparently.

There were dozens of pictures. Some were dark and kind of blurry, but all were unmistakably Nate.

You scrolled through all of the pictures again. Cox whined next to you. Nate still hadn’t left the kitchen, but you knew he had been tagged in all of the posts too. Texts and notifications were still rolling into your phone, from friends and family and strangers. You turned your phone off.

Then Nate was crouching in front of you, brushing your tears away. You hadn’t even realized you had been crying. You scrambled away from Nate’s touch like it burned you; his hand stayed outstretched in the air.

Just ten minutes ago, you had been beginning to think that things could get better again, that you could fix the damage in Nate, in your relationship. Now, everything you had known for the last two and a half years lay shattered at your feet, spread out for the whole world to see.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” Nate murmured.

A hysterical laugh forced its way out of your throat. Your hands were still shaking, but your anxiousness had just been replaced with anger. “I wasn’t supposed to find out like this, or I wasn’t supposed to find out at all?”

Nate flinched a little, and you felt a brief flash of vindication. “I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean what, Nathan? Didn’t mean for me to find out, for the whole world to find out? Or you didn’t mean to say it like that? Like you were just waiting for the right time to tell me, but it never worked out?” Nate had stood up again, but he wasn’t looking at you. “God, I was sitting around like a fool all season, waiting for you to call me, but of course you never did, because you had found someone better than me. Did she get to go to games, too, when you were flying her all across the country?”

Nate was flushed with anger now too. “You don’t understand-”

You cut him off. “No, Nate, I don’t fucking understand. I thought, I don’t know, maybe the past two years actually meant something. So tell me, make me understand, because you lost me a long time ago.”

“Just shut up!” You took a step back from Nate, though he hadn’t moved. You weren’t sure Nate had ever raised his voice at you. “We were in Ottawa in the beginning of November, and we all went out to a bar because we finally got a fucking win. She started flirting, and she had no idea who we were, and it was so nice to meet someone and not have the expectation of being Nathan fucking MacKinnon. I never had to listen to her lie to me about how well I played or some shit about how the team would figure it out, that we could get better.”

“Did all the boys know?” you whispered. “Have you all just been laughing at me behind my back all season, while I’ve been blindly in love with a boy who’s been flying another girl to all of his road games?”

Nate paled and took a half-step in your direction. You backed up again, until your knees hit the couch. “No, they- they knew I was taking the season hard, I guess, so they gave me space. Gabe might’ve been getting suspicious, but I- they would never do that to you.”

“Excuse me for not believing that. I believed you would never cheat on me, either, but here we are.” You turned to leave the room.

“If you’d just-” Nate was angry again. You spun around, your heartbreak fanning the flames of your own anger.

“If I’d just what, Nate? Stopped caring about you and hockey? Stopped supporting you? Stopped caring about us?” Your voice broke, and you blinked back the tears burning behind your eyes. You had started out yelling again, but now your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry I tried, Nathan. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You turned again, started making your way towards the stairs.

“Wait, Y/N, please.” Nate’s voice came out desperate, like he was choking back tears. You couldn’t possibly understand why; he had done this to himself. “I never actually slept with her.”

“Good for you, Nate.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I hope the PR team has fun trying to save you and your fuck-ups. The posterboy of the Colorado Avalanche showing his true colors at last.”

Nate finally let you turn and make your way upstairs. He didn’t follow as you made your way into the bedroom and packed a bag with enough clothes to last you until the next road trip. He was sitting on the couch, stiff and tense, but he jumped up when you came back down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, starting to reach out to grab your arm, but stopping himself at the last second, grasping at the air instead. “Please, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “But I can’t stay here. I’ll be back to get the rest of my stuff while you’re on your next road trip. Say hi to your other girlfriend for me.”

Nate followed you outside. Cox barked once as you climbed into your car. “But-but you live here, with us! Please, let me fix this.”

You turned to Nate one last time. “You know, you could have fixed everything else that screwed us up this season. I really thought we could’ve been fine. But this, Nate? I don’t know anymore.”

Nate flinched as your car door slammed. You watched in your rearview mirror as you drove away. His hands were shoved in his pockets, unmoving, and then he was out of sight.

You drove aimlessly around Denver for a while. You let yourself get lost before you found somewhere quiet to pull over. Except, the breakdown, the tears, never came. Instead, you felt numb and hollow. You had really been foolish enough to believe that you could love Nate through everything, and that he would love you back. Hadn’t Sid said it seemed like you would be together forever?

When Nate showed up at the game the next night with a fresh black eye, no one commented on it. No one commented on EJ’s freshly bruised knuckles, either.

The season ended quietly. The Avs had managed to turn the season around, stop the bleeding, but they never quite could fix the damage. You had moved out of Nate’s house after the fight. You rarely saw each other anymore, but you didn’t tell him you kept going to games until the very end. You just couldn’t keep yourself away, no matter how much it hurt to watch him down on the ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour. You stayed in Denver.

Sometimes you thought back to the beginning of your relationship with Nate. You remembered what it was like when you first met, when Nate was still shy and quiet. It had been so stupidly fucking cliche, too: in a goddamn Starbucks.

You listened to the man next to you in line rattle off a list of coffee orders, ranging from basic to borderline ridiculous. The baristas were already beginning to look overwhelmed as the cups lined up. He had the grace to look sheepish, at least, and tucked what looked like a ten dollar bill into their tip jar. You didn’t pay him much more mind after that, stepping to the side and trying your hardest to stay out of the way of other patrons while you waited. Then your grandmother had called, asking for technology help, even though you were hundreds of miles away from home, and you had other family that literally lived five minutes away from her. You were distracted and missed that a barista had called your name. You were still caught up with your phone and didn’t realize until someone was tapping you on the shoulder and tentatively saying your name.

You looked up, surprised, and your entire field of vision was filled with one very blond, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man. First, you made the connection to him being the one with the list of coffee orders in line next to you, and then, that the man standing in front of you, struggling to balance several coffee carriers, was Nathan MacKinnon.

“I grabbed your coffee by mistake,” he said. “It got mixed in with all our orders, and I only just noticed it had a different name on it. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled, taking your coffee. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear them call my name.” Nate still looked apologetic. “Did you lose a bet or something?” you asked then, looking at the stack of coffee cups Nate still held.

He grinned at you. “Something like that.”

You had left the Starbucks that day with Nate’s phone number. At the time, you had no real intent to use it; you didn’t kid yourself. Nathan MacKinnon was a former first-overall draft pick, hero of the Colorado Avalanche, and you were just some girl whose coffee he accidentally stole.

Nate texted you first. He did that a lot in the beginning. He was always a little awkward– a life spent focused on hockey meant that he wasn’t the best at small talk– but he was sweet and could make you laugh.

When he first asked you out, you said no. You had watched his face fall, watched him bite his lip and take a step back from you. You felt a surprising rush of sadness settle in your chest as Nate’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had said no because you didn’t want to be just another girl, another fling that meant nothing. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if that’s all you would be to Nate, and you were a little scared by how willing you were to see how far it could go.

“Ask me again in a couple weeks,” you said softly. Nate startled, still looking a little bit like he wanted to run. You looked up at him fondly.

Life went on in Denver that summer without Nate. You went to work. You went home to your empty apartment. Really, it wasn’t all that different from life with Nate in Denver, at least not in the last couple of months. You texted with Sid and Sarah every once in a while, but you got complete radio silence from Nate. Tyson Barrie texted you a video of Cox and Ralph playing one day in mid-July, and you could hear Nate laughing somewhere in the background. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to admit to how many times you watched the video, just to hear Nate’s laugh again, either.

“You are not getting my dog a fucking-what it’s called? A puppuccino?” Nate gripped his iced black cold brew tightly in his hand and glared at you. Cox sat patiently at your feet, eyeing the cup of whipped cream in your hand and licking his lips eagerly.

“It’s just whipped cream, babe! And, look, he likes them!”

Nate raised an eyebrow at you. You had forgotten that the trips you took to Starbucks with Cox while the boys were on road trips were secret. “Y/N.” Nate crouched down and squished Cox’s face. Cox looked unimpressed. “This is a highly trained guard dog. He does not need any fucking whipped cream.” Cox’s tongue darted out and licked Nate’s nose. It was Nate’s turn to look unimpressed.

You bent down to give Cox his puppuccino. He lapped it up excitedly, getting whipped cream all over his nose and whiskers. Nate rolled his eyes at the both of you.

“You’re not allowed to spoil our children.” You paused, still watching Cox try and get the last of the whipped cream out of the cup. Nate had never mentioned kids before, but you sometimes watched the smile he had when he played with Linnea or Sophie, even though he was still a little terrified of holding a baby. You looked at him, but he was still watching Cox calmly.

“Are you saying that Cox isn’t already your son?” you asked, only deflecting a little, and trying very hard to not picture Nate with a tiny baby of your own.

Nate scoffed. You both looked down at Cox, who had rolled onto his back, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Besides,” he said, tugging you closer by your hips, “I think Cox will be great with kids, and there’s only one way to find out.”

You just rolled your eyes.

You always had to grit your teeth and smile when someone heard that you weren’t originally from Denver and asked, pretty much without fail, if you had moved for Nate. The answer was always that you had moved for work and had met Nate by chance. If Nate was a part of the conversation, he would chip in that he’d had to work to even get you to consider dating him. He’d always kiss you after that, on the forehead, on the cheek, and he’d look at you like he was the lucky one. And you could look into his eyes and forget for a moment that you’d been upset.

You always wondered why everyone assumed you had dropped your life, your family and friends and your hometown just to follow Nate and his hockey career. Now, you were wondering if you were ready to drop your life, your friends, and everything you loved about Denver just to get away from Nate and his hockey career.

You didn’t hear from Nate when he returned to Denver for training camp. It hurt in a way you couldn’t articulate, a bone-deep ache, a hollowness that you had never felt before, the fear that you had both let your relationship go past the point of no return while neither of you were paying attention. You thought wildly as you laid in bed alone, if you would ever see Nate again, be able to look him in the eyes and tell him you loved him one more time.

Because you did. You still loved Nate, maybe always would, and you missed him, spent the whole summer missing him, had missed him long before he went back to Cole Harbour by himself. You were terrified that you lost the best relationship you’d ever had. You were too scared to reach out to him yourself, half-sure that he’d never even respond, and that would be all you needed to know that you had reached the end.

You watched the boys’ Instagram stories as they went golfing everyday after practice. You watched Nate smile and laugh with Gabe and Burky, though you noticed that the smiles never quite seemed to reach his eyes. You looked at the Avs’ social medias every day for the pictures they inevitably posted of Nate. He never seemed to be smiling. You would drive down near the Pepsi Center, only to see his face plastered everywhere. Seeing Nathan MacKinnon around Denver seemed unavoidable; he was on posters and on shirts and jerseys. Seeing Nate, though? Your Nate, with the lisp and the love for dogs, who yelled at his teammates on Fortnite and loved his family more than anything? You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again.

So whether you kiss me or you close the door Just know that I'm better than I was before

You were surprised when someone knocked on your apartment door one night after dinner, only a couple of days before the regular season began. You were even more surprised when you pulled open the door to see Nate. He startled a little when you opened the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb, allowing yourself to just look at him.

His summer tan had already started to fade. He was wearing jeans, but an old Avs T-shirt, and he was picking at the fraying hem. He was no longer as lean as he was the last time you’d seen him towards the end of the season, but he looked exhausted the same way he did in the final stretch.

It hurt to look at him for long, so you cleared your throat, tore your gaze away from the dark circles under his eyes. Nate shook himself a little, looked away from the 29 on your right shoulder. You had forgotten that you had put on an old, stolen hoodie after work. For a while, it had still smelled like him, but now it didn’t smell like anything.

“I thought you gave everything of mine back,” was the first thing he said.

You shrugged, tugging the sleeves of Nate’s hoodie over your hands. “Couldn’t bring myself to give it up.” You looked back at Nate. He looked pained. “What’re you doing here, Nate?” The exhaustion of the last couple months, the heartbreak, the worry, showed in your voice.

“I just-I wanted to see you. Wanted to try and explain, if you wanted to listen. I know I’ll never get the words right, and you could slam the door in my face right now, and I wouldn’t blame you. And if you do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you don’t, I will spend the rest of my life apologizing, trying to show you how much I love you.”

You covered your mouth to cover the sob that rose out of your chest. Nate’s eyes snapped up to yours, those bright blue eyes that you still loved so much, and he looked panicked. “Nate, I-”

“Look, if I were you, I’d hate me. Hell, EJ socked me, and I thought Sid was gonna leave me out on the lake to die when I first flew home. If you spend the rest of your life hating me, it’s all on me. You probably wouldn’t be the only one. But, fuck, Cox misses you. I miss you.” Nate stepped closer, reached out to brush his thumb across your cheekbone.

You let yourself revel in that touch for a moment before you took a step back, clutching your door for support. “I spent all summer wondering if we were over, Nate. Wondering what I could’ve done differently.” Nate bit his lip. He was still standing in the hallway outside your apartment. You hadn’t invited him in, and you weren’t sure you were going to at all. “I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can fall in love with you, be in love with you, and watch you go off on road trips and wonder if I can ever trust you again. I don’t know if I can do this,” you repeated.

Nate closed his eyes, seemed to be steeling himself for something. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I know it’s not enough, will never be enough, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

You hesitated. Nate blinked once, twice, fidgeted with the hem of his T-shirt again. It would be so easy, you thought, to let him back into your life.

You closed the door.

The last thing you saw was Nate’s face, hurt but resigned. You leaned back against your door, slid down to the floor, and let the tears that had been burning under the surface for months out.

Part Two!

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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