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pbandjesse · 6 months

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I got a little hurt at work today. And I am feeling it tonight. It wasn't a bad day at all though. I was just really ready to be home.

It was grey and raining again. I felt uncomfortable in the first two outfits I tired and the kast outfit wasn't much better. So I ended up leaving s few minutes late. But that was fine, no one is keeping track.

James left a little before me. And I drove to work. Not a bad drive. Though it started getting really foggy half way to camp and it was a little eerie.

I would spend the first hour or so working on seeing the ears to my move plushies. And it was nice to just focus on that task. Even if it's not technically work. And once I was done that everyone else was in and I was able to buy Heather for the info about camp all in. And I finally worked on the invitation for our house warming.

While I was working on the invitation Jess texted me that there was just an earthquake where she was!! A 4.8 magnitude earthquake on New Jersey. Apparently James felt it too! That's crazy. I wish I had felt it to just because I think it's interesting. But I'm glad it was just a little one and no one got hurt.

I would work on the journal/coloring/activity book for camp all in and it was fun. I hope Heather likes it. I tried to make it a good mix of things. I even had a page with jokes on it.

I would eat my lunch and work on my computer. And eventually around noon heather asked me and Sarah to come to the lodge to help clean after it was sanded and painted over the last two days.

We wouldn't just clean though. We also had a delivery of construction materials for the rebuilding of the nurses office. And after it was delivered to the wrong address and the. To us, it was not handled well and a bunch of it broke. Plus it started to rain and we didn't want it to all be ruined. So me and Sarah went to move everything.

And it was heavy. We had to make a million trips from the pallets for delivery and the inside of the building. And the knife Heather 's husband lent us was super dull so it didn't make the unpacking any easier. Heather would come help and we were able to get everything inside with minimal rain and we only found a few damaged boards, the one on the very bottom being the most destroyed.

I went to get the gator to collect the packing trash. I asked if I could keep the wood that was holding the flooring to the pallets and she said yes. Awesome. So I would deliver that to our car later on.

I would pick up Sarah, along with the wood and trash and we would drive around making deliveries before eventually landing at the lodge to help clean.

We would sweep and wipe things down and move furniture around. Just tried to bring everything back to order.

I was chatting with Heather and getting a lot done. And after we finished mopping the smaller bedroom Heather had to do some interviews so she walked back and I drove the gator.

I would take an hour break. Just scrolling on Pinterest and eating snacks. And eventually Heather asked us to come with her to do one more hour of cleaning. So we did just that.

I was already sore and tired but I didn't mind the mopping. So I worked on that while we kept moving things and wiping them down. Sarah and Heather got to a break point and went outside to discuss a trail ride Sarah might be working , and I kept mopping.

I would finish the room so I decided to quickly get the stairs. And it was great. Until I got to the very top and turned around and immediately fell down the stairs. I fell down about 8 steps and landed on the landing. And I was shocked.

I had landed hard on my lower back on the left hand side. Thankfully not landing fully on either wrist, or hitting my head. I did break the top off of the mop handle, and I was a little dazed, but I was okay.

I laid there for a minute deciding what to do. I texted Sarah but before she read it I muscled my way up.

I went outside and told them I fell and they were shocked and sorry they weren't there to help. But I was okay and laughing about it. Even if I was a little shaken.

We chatted outside about other times we have fallen, and eventually I decided that was me calling it a day.

I walked back to the office, checked in with Elizabeth and Alexi. Told them I fell but was okay, just sore. And said goodbye until the open house on Sunday.

I left and decided I had to eat something. And I landed on chipolte.

This chipolte has a terrible entrance and parking lot and I had to circle the block to figure it out. But I got it and got my food and half half. It made me feel slightly better but my cheeks were really flush and I was feeling weird.

I would leave there and went to the goodwill down the street. Where I had a couple good finds, though people were blocking the entire aisle basically everywhere and I kept getting trapped. But I still had fun and not only had great finds, I have a $9 off reward. So I also got a great deal.

I went home after that. And would message James to ask them to meet me outside to bring j. The stuff in the car. And they did and I appreciated them so much.

Thankfully I did not get stuck in the crazy traffic (and 10 police cars) going the other direction. Thankfully everyone wasn't blocking the traffic light.

I got home and James got eveything inside. I parked and they met me at the car and we walked to the house together.

Where I felt slightly overwhelmed by everything I wanted to accomplish. But I was able to chill when I saw my birthday countdown stickers are finally here. I'm thrilled, they look so good.

After photographing my stickers, I would work on putting stuff away and trying to clean up a little.

James would have a call with their friend Brooks. And I would vacuum my tanks and discover the ones lights are burning out? I'm not sure how to replace that so I might have to look into getting a replacement lid. Well have to see what I come up with.

Me and James would chill after the cleaning was done. And James would play video games and I would rest and watch them. And eventually I went to take a bath. Which made me feel a lot better and more myself.

After I got out of the tub I reminded James they said they would make us cake.

And they jumped right into that. James made me a chocolate cake and it was really good. We waited for it to be done cooking, on the couch. And we were just making eachother laugh so much and just having the best night. I felt so happy.

And I still do. Even if I had to much cake. I am really tired now though and very much ready to sleep.

And I have to be well rested because my parents are coming tomorrow!!! I get to show them my house!!! This is so cool. I am really happy and excited.

And now I am ready for real. I hope you all sleep great tonight, and have a beautiful day tomorrow. I love you all. Goodnight!

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cryptidsurveys · 2 months

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Saturday, August 3rd, 2023.

(From Thursday's trip to the Mountain Park.) 1 - What have you been up to so far today? Is that a typical thing for you to do on this particular day of the week? I was at the animal shelter from 7am-11am. Then I came home, took a shower, had lunch while taking a survey, scrambled to do some catch-up housecleaning (cleaned the upstairs bathroom, wiped down the kitchen counters, cleaned out the microwave, swept, mopped the kitchen and hallway floors, and vacuumed the rug under the kitchen table as well as the carpet in the family room), and now I'm here, trying to fit in another quick survey before snack time. Oh, and no, it's not typical for me to be at the shelter on Saturdays, but due everything going on lately, I'm there from Fri-Tues with Wed and Thurs off.

2 - Did you get a decent night’s sleep last night? How many hours sleep do you consider a decent amount? It was fairly decent, but I was still pretty tired when I woke up. I felt better and more energized as the day progressed, though. I tend to need at least 7-8 hours of solid sleep in order to function. I can go maybe a night or two on less, but then my body will retaliate.

3 - What is one silly thing that really gets on your nerves? Lol, when my dad tries to talk to me when I have the water running or some other loud thing is going on (like the dishwasher is running, etc). It's not the fact that he's talking to me; it's the fact that I can't hear him, and he just will not raise his voice to be heard over whatever-it-is. I typically have to tell him to wait until I'm finished so I can actually hear him.

4 - Who was the last person you saw who wasn’t family? What did you guys end up doing together? Leslie and Iris (management at the animal shelter). They said goodbye to me as I was leaving and Leslie thanked me for rolling with all the recent changes. As I mentioned in the last survey, Alex and Cassie are leaving cattery (Alex at the end of August and Cassie in two weeks), which leaves just Diane in the mornings five days a week, Kristen who is a relatively new hire two full days a week, and me (3 full days + 2 half days). They've basically got at least two full time positions to fill and maybe one more to be truly well-staffed and comfortable. But yeah, Leslie said, "I hope you're staying…" and I was like, "Yeah, I'm gonna be around forever." There's the dysfunction you're born into and then there's the dysfunction you choose, and the animal shelter is definitely the dysfunction I've chosen. You couldn't chase me away from that place.

5 - Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? Cold.

6 - Do you own a decent set of waterproofs? If so, what do you use them for the most? If not, do you think that would be something you’d find useful? Waterproofs…? Like a parka or jacket or whatever…? I think I have something for backpacking, but I haven't used it for years.

7 - Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Not really. Just catching up on some trash YouTube, kitty chores, and spending some time with my dad.

8 - How often do you get your hair cut? When hairdressers were closed due to COVID, did you try cutting it yourself at home? I give myself a buzz cut every 2-3 months. I was already cutting it myself prior to covid, so that wasn't an issue.

9 - What did you wear the last time you left the house? Is that different to what you’re wearing at the moment? Black pants, black t-shirt, blue animal shelter t-shirt. It is different to what I'm wearing now. I've got on dark blue sweatpants and another (surprise, surprise) long-sleeve animal shelter shirt. It says "Love is a rescue cat."

10 - Would you rather have a relaxing beach holiday or a more active holiday in the mountains? How about a relaxing holiday in the mountains? I just want to sit on a rock in the woods and be a lump for a while.

11 - Do you know how to tie a tie? No.

12 - How old were you when you first had a sleepover at someone’s house? Did you miss home? I'm not sure. Sometime in elementary school. I don't recall being bothered by homesickness too much.

13 - How often do you spend time with your extended family? Never.

14 - When you get up in the morning, do you have a set routine? Yeah. On animal shelter days (depending on the day + who gets there the earliest), I wake up somewhere around 5:30am-5:45am. Take a shower, brush my teeth, make my usual oatmeal concoction for breakfast, watch something on YouTube or read various comment sections, gather the rest of my things, pack a lunch if I'm staying all day, then sit and talk with my dad until it's time to leave, which is usually somewhere around 6:35am-6:45am.

15 - Do you remember the last time you cried? Were they sad or happy tears? Yeah. The Friday before last. They were sad, frustrated, lonely, defeated tears, but they were relatively short-lived. I try not to dwell on those moments and just keep pushing forward.

16 - What do you have planned once you finish this survey? Snack and catching up on some ALR BS, lmao.

17 - What was the last thing you cooked? Did you cook from scratch or just heat something up? I can't remember the last time I actually cooked something. I had a chicken salad for lunch earlier, though.

18 - Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows? Yeah. I'm fine with it plain, but adding extra stuff is fun too.

19 - What caused your last injury? I don't recall my last injury. I don't think random bumps, bruises, and cat scratches count.

20 - How many tattoos and piercings do you have? Do any of them have an interesting story behind them? Several tattoos, two lip piercings. None of them have an interesting story.

21 - What kind of flowers do you like the best? When was the last time someone bought those for you? Cliche, I know, but probably roses or cherry blossoms. Also wildflowers, but no particular type. Just a blossoming field full of them. I don't remember the last time anyone bought…oh wait, never mind, I did receive a sunflower bouquet at the volunteer appreciation dinner back in April.

22 - What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? Idk.

23 - Would you rather order a starter (appetizer) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? Dessert. I could probably manage three courses, but...ugh. I prefer to eat smaller meals throughout the day. Going out to eat throws that all off.

24 - How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all? Lol, my dad. If it wasn't for him, then I would consume almost no news at all.

25 - Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? My dad and I both had covid back in Feb/March of 2023. As far as I know, my mom hasn't had it.

26 - Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider? I'm not, and no, it's not something I would consider.

27 - Do you prefer rice or pasta? Probably rice, but I enjoy both.

28 - Is anything you’re wearing a gift? Who bought it for you? I guess the shirt was technically a gift. I got it at the volunteer dinner I mentioned above. I was going to buy it, but Leslie was like, just take it. :')

29 - What’s the dominant colour in the room you’re in at the moment? White, peach, and teal.

30 - Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed? Yeah, I threw in a load earlier.

#survey #surveys #personal survey #random survey #survey blog

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purplesurveys · 2 years

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1617

1) What’re your plans for the weekend? I’ve got an event today, so there’s that. I can’t wait for it to be over; I’m supposed to be dealing with 300 attendees today – literally 10 times as much as I would normally deal with – so with me pushing the extrovert agenda for an additional day in the week, I’m pretty sure I’ll be speeding the fuck back home the moment it’s done.

2) Could you ever be vegetarian - why or why not? I don’t think so. I wanted to start having a vegan lifestyle in the past; but idk I like certain food too much to completely let go of them. Like sushi.

3) Name a quote from your favorite TV show: “This is not meth.”

4) What time did you wake up this morning? I woke up at around 7:50 since I had to be at the dentist by 9 to get braces.

5) What chores do you do around the house? I mop and sweep the floor daily since it gets very humid in the day, making the floor sticky and gross-ish to walk on; I wash the dishes and fold clothes; then I also do the cleaning-up after the dogs. Not so much ‘around the house’ but I’m also mainly in charge of bringing them to the vet and shouldering the bills.

6) Do you like windchimes, or do they annoy you? I can live with or without them, but I honestly feel like it would annoy me if heard on a daily basis, lol. I would like having them around the most if I was on vacation somewhere remote. 7) How much sleep do you usually get a night? Anywhere from 5-7.

8) If you could have any outfit, cost not an issue, what would you get? I don’t have any outfit ensemble in mind; but I would love some new pairs of shoes. It’s not that mine are on the verge of breaking apart; but it’d be nice to just have a bigger variety to choose from. 9) Do you play any instruments? I don’t and can’t.

10) What song would you say describes your life right now? Would probably be more relevant a little later, but Hectic by RM and Colde.

11) Do you have snacks lying around your room? Yeah, I have a bag of truffle-flavored chips in there.

12) Did you get up to much today? If it’s morning, what are your plans? Yep I’ve already accomplished one errand this morning (getting braces), but I will be very busy in about an hour or so, since my calltime to the event venue is at noon. I’ll be manning registration so it’s gonna be the most socializing out of everyone else in the team bleck. I’m so excited to get back to my bed.

13) What’s your favorite animal to see in the zoo? None; I usually feel a pang of guilt even when I see animals I would love otherwise, like elephants, eagles, and deer.

14) When do you start back to school or college? I graduated college three years ago and don’t plan on coming back for a masters or doctoral degree.

15) What other social networking sites are you on? I’m on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and now Bondee lmfao.

16) What was the best year of your life? It used to be 2014, but it has since been dethroned by 2021. It would be very hard to top it, too.

17) What plans do you have for the rest of summer? We don’t have ‘summer.’ We just have hot and very hot.

18) How old is the person you like right now? I’m not into anyone. 19) Do you get an allowance? How much? Well no, I’ve been earning my own money since I got a job.

20) What games console is your favorite? What about favorite game? I’m not a big gamer. I enjoy watching walkthroughs, but I never pick up a console or controller myself.

21) If you could go anywhere right now, where would it be and why? HOME. Be with the dogs, laze around, watch YouTube. The work week had been pretty busy so I wanted to make the weekend a time for relaxing; but I can’t for half of it.

22) Do your parents nag you a lot? What about? It’s more of just subtle callouts/reminders not to spend as much as I do on K-pop and to be responsible with my money. They’re not as naggy as they used to be.

23) What is there on the walls of your room? Nothing. When I repainted it last month, I didn’t return the posters and frames on the walls anymore. Nothing but fresh white paint on it now.

24) Is there anyone that just really annoys you? Sure.

25) What are your plans for tomorrow, anything good? Aside from our usual Sunday mass, nothing. I hope there’s nothing else that comes up; I didn’t have a weekend last week and now my Saturday is also taken. If tomorrow happens as planned, it would be the first time in like 2 weeks that I can get to spend the weekend at home.

26) If you could wake up tomorrow being able to do one thing perfectly, what would it be? Dance.

27) You have two wishes to make to help the world, and one can’t be “another wish” or anything similar. What wishes do you make? Clean water and ample supply of food.

28) Do you reckon world peace is possible or are we just too selfish? History has shown us time and time again that it isn’t. People are always looking for something to gain.

29) Do you listen to Bright Eyes? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them. 30) Are you interested in politics, or do you just not care? Very interested. Those who choose not to care don’t really sit right with me.

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linasobsessions · 4 years

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Are you sure about that? OR 4 times you were just a hookup + the one time you weren't {Matthew Tkachuk}

AN: First time writing on this blog after probably one and a half years. But this idea just kinda stuck in my head

Word count: 3.2k

Hooking up with Matthew was easy. The first time he took you home was after a night out at a local bar with his teammates, just having won an important game and being a step closer to clinching a playoff spot. You had been out with your girlfriends trying to escape the stress of college exams.

You already had a couple of drinks and since your friends were much wilder than you, you decided to get some water to sober up a little. At least one of you had to stay conscious this time and not black out. Waiting on your drink you tapped your fingers on the wood of the bar to the beat of the music playing in the background when you felt another person sliding in next to you.

Deciding to ignore it you took your water that was finally handed to you. You pulled some bills out of your pocket to pay but were stopped midway.

"Put it on my tab."

The deep voice left a shiver down your spine as you turned your head to look at the man next to you. The first thing you noticed was the curly blonde mop of hair on his head, wild and tamed at the same time with racing stripes shaves into the sides. You let your eyes wander to his face, over his sharp, scruffy jawline to his clear blue eyes. His lips wore an smirk that made you want to roll your eyes at him as the next sentence left his mouth.

"Are you Tennessee?"

He went back to smirking as you only raised your left eyebrow. He leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear, making sure you heard every word he said. This could either go really good or really bad.

"Because you're the only ten I see."

Now you did roll your eyes. And it seemed like he was enjoying that he was annoying you. You leaned back to get more distance between the two of you and looked into his eyes. They shone with mischief and you made it your mission to put him in his place.

"Did this line ever really work?"

He shook his head and looked down at the beer in his hand. You noticed his hands fidgeting around the bottle. Was he nervous?

"No. But I thought someone like you would be annoyed at a line like this. And I was right. You see, it's kind of like my job to get under people's skin and it seems to work outside of that too. I'm Matthew."

He held his hand out to you. And as much as he annoyed you, you were intrigued by him as a person. He seemed like someone you had to get to know. So you accepted his handshake and told him your name as well. Back was the smirk on his face and you knew another remark would follow.

"It fits. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous person."

Your head snapped down in an attempt to hide the blush that was spreading over your cheeks. Grumbling a 'shut up' while shoving his shoulder. That pick up line started out an amazing conversation and at the end of the night you and Matthew were like old friends. During the conversation you switched back to cocktails so it was no surprise that you were getting more affectionate. While Matt was telling a story about how he beat up his younger brother Brady when he was twelve you couldn't help yourself to reach your hand out and run your hands through his curls. It was incredibly soft and your sexual frustration made you wonder what it would feel like to tug on it while his head was between your legs. Matt seemed to notice you starting to press your legs together to relive the pressure between your legs. Back was the smirk of the beginning of the night as he rested his hand on the top of your thigh and leaned in again. Your noses were brushing and if one of you moved only one inch your lips would touch. It made you restless.

"You wanna get out of here? My apartment is just around the corner."

You nodded and he paid for the drinks and pulled you outside to get to his apartment. The rest of the night was spent kissing each and every inch of skin with hands roaming around each other. Your bodies were moving in synch and if wouldn't have felt so amazing you might have been worried about the fact that his body felt familiar to you already.

When you were done he fell into the pillows next to you, both of you panting heavily. Assuming this would probably be a one time thing you got up to clean yourself up in the bathroom before starting to get dressed. Matthew lifted his head and looked at you through half-closed eyes. As he noticed you were getting dressed he sat up and fidgeted with his hands again.

"So this might sound weird. But can we do this again? I had a really good time tonight and I feel like we could be really good friends."

Confused by his words you raised an eyebrow for one last time that night. His face now wore a smug smile as his thoughts seemed to have traveled further.

"And the sex is great. So it would be a win-win situation for us. I just can't do a relationship right now and it would be cool if we'd have a casual thing."

As you shimmied back into your jeans you let out a giggle. And then you noticed your blouse on the floor. Ripped. He really had ripped your favorite blouse. Your eyes searched through his bedroom to find something else to wear. And you were successful. Grabbing the Grey hoddie laying on the floor and pulling it over your head you turned back to Matt to give him a cheeky grin.

"Well since we're friends now you won't mind me taking this, do you? Give me your phone so I can put my number in there."

He handed you his phone and you saved in your number with a wink emoji next to it. You gave it back to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"Until next time Matty."

And you were out of his apartment.

-----

The the next couple of month the hookups with Matthew became more and more regular. But you also became really good friends. You hung out at his apartment a lot and you could talk about anything and everything for hours. The flutter of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach when you were with him were blatantly ignored. You couldn't afford to fall in love with him. He had been clear from the beginning that he wasn't looking for a relationship so you granted him his wish. That didn't mean that your heart didn't ache when his phone lit up with a text from another one of his hookups and he was quick to kick you out of his apartment. Not that you would ever tell him that though.

Even when you now were considered close friends it still surprised you when Matt invited you to a team party. They had clinched a playoff spot and were now celebrating it. At first you didn't want to go. You didn't know any of his teammates and in no way wanted to intrude on their celebration. But Matt had insisted.

"Come on, babe. I need you there. You're on of my closest friends. It wouldn't be the same without you."

Babe. That had been a nickname he began using for you. It didn't help the feelings blossoming in your chest. It made it even worse. And that's also what made you break in the end.

The amount of people in Mark Giordano's house was overwhelming. People were crowding around a beer pong table and you could see some space had been made in the dining room to have a dance floor. Matthew pulled you into the kitchen first. He knew you weren't that great with new people and really shy at first. So he would get you a drink to loosen up and make you more open. While your drink was strong he just grabbed himself a beer and pulled you further to the living room. He soon found Noah and Jonny who smirked as they saw him approach with you holding his hand. Noah saw this as an ultimate opportunity to tease Matt.

"Oh would you look at that! Chucky got himself a girl. About time!"

Your cheeks glowed with a blush while Matthew only laughed and made sure to disagree with him.

"Noah shut your mouth. This is my friend (Y/N). I told you about her."

You looked at Matthew with wide eyes. He had told his teammates about you? What else had he told them?

Noah and Jonny introduced themselves to you and before the conversation could start up again a brunette head full of locks pushed themselves between Matt, Noah, Jonny and yourself.

"Matthew you brought someone! We seriously need more girls here. To even out all this testosterone."

You blushed yet again. Why would they not stop assuming you were together. The girl grabbed your hand and gave you a bright smile.

"I'm Meredith, Jonny's fiancé. Come on. I'll introduce you to the rest of the girls."

Before you could say anything else, Meredith had already pulled you away from Matthew. The rest of the night wasn't as bad as you would have thought. The girls were incredibly nice and with a couple more drinks in you were dancing with all the girls. It was a fun time.

Something you didn't notice though, was that Matt was keeping an eye on you the entire night. And it was so blatantly obvious to everyone else except for you two. Jonny nudged Noah when he noticed Matt looking after you yet again.

"Just a hook up my ass. Look at him."

------

Sadly the season had ended sooner for the Flames than they would have liked. Being eliminated from the playoffs in the first round wasn't a great feeling and it was showing. The whole city felt like it was in a slump. You could only be thankful that Matt was back in St. Louis so he wouldn't have to witness it. Even if you missed his presence.

Back in St. Louis Matthew was also missing you. He had gotten so used to talkinh to you so often and spending time with you as much as he could that he swore that he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms. He constantly checked his phone to look if you had texted him and was looking through old photos of you. And again. It was incredibly obvious something had change.

Brady thought his brother was sick because he wasn't chirping him as much anymore. But then he heard Matt talking to you over the phone. He had never heard Matthew talk so soft with someone. Usually it always was snarky remarks and sometimes even straight up rudeness. But this was something else. Compliments, encouraging words and even the phrase 'I miss you'. There had to be something up with him. So he brought it up at breakfast the next morning.

Everyone else was already down at the kitchen table. Brady and Taryn were eating breakfast while Keith was reading the daily newspaper and Chantal making herself breakfast when Matthew came down. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, which he did. What his family didn't know tho was that he had been on the phone with you for hours, even falling asleep on facetime at about 3 am. Matt rubbed his eyes as he pulled a bowl out of a cabinet and made himself some cereal. And Brady, on brand with he was, saw the perfect opportunity to embarrass his big brother.

"Matt, who were you talking to last night?"

Matt's head shot up so fast it was almost impossible. The kitchen went silent as four pairs of eyes were now on Matthew's face. He felt a blush creep up on his cheeks. Chantal narrowed her eyes at her son's blushing cheeks. He never blushed. Not even when he was young and had his first crush on a girl. Never. So this was news to the whole family.

"Uhm-"

Matt brought his hand up to scratch the back of his newly cut hair. You had scolded him last night that he better get back to clagary with curls or else. You were about as intimidating as a playful puppy, but he would never tell you that.

"I talked to a friend. She's back in Calgary and going through a tough time with college right now. "

Now Taryn's eyes were the ones narrowing. Damn those Tkachuk girls and their true suspicions.

"A female friend? Is that even possible for you?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. Of course his sister would eventually chirp her brother. He should be used to it by now. No family member is safe from chirping. Maybe their mom. But otherwise no one.

"Yes a female friend. We only hooked up a couple of times. She's just a friend that I have fun with from time to time."

The whole family except for Matthew let out a groan. No one wanted to know what or who he was doing in his free time. But Brady was still not convinced with that answer. There had to be something else.

"I don't belive you. You would not be this soft for someone who is just a hook up or a friend. There's no way."

Matthew tilted his head at the statement of his brother as if he wanted to challenge Brady.

"Well she is. Don't put your nose in my business."

-------

The emotion in the locker room were going wild. Defeating the leafs was one thing but defeating them at home with a shutout was something else. Matt had scored a goal so it was understandable he was over the moon. As they started to get out of their gear Matt looked at his phone. Just as he had expected it showed a text you sent immediately after the game. A smile lit up his face.

'Congratulations Superstar. You played a good game today, that goal was incredible. I'm so proud of you. Btw thanks for letting me stay at yours. I would have never been able to concentrate with my roommates at home.'

Gio, who had been aware of the situation with you both, noticed him looking down at his phone. It was as if Matt had heart eyes. And he had been observing the pining for too long. He had to say something.

"(Y/N) texted you?"

Matt looked up from his phone and at his captain. He nodded with the smile still on his face.

"Yeah. She congratulated us on the win and thanked me that she could stay at my apartment."

Now it was Gio's turn to look confused.

"Wait -. She's staying at your apartment? Why?"

Matthew shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Yeah. Her roommates are always incredibly loud so when exams are coming up I let her stay at my apartment. She can concentrate better then."

Gio shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. And he's had enough. It was about time Matthew realized what was on front of him.

"Are you sure she's just a hookup? Well friend with benefits or whatever."

Matt nodded, completely sure of his answer.

There's was no way you were more than a friend, was there?

"Well it seems different to me. You spend like all your free time together. You bring her to teamparties and then watch her so nothing happens to her. When we're on the road you're constantly texting and she's staying at your apartment while you're not there because she's studying. Sounds a lot like a committed relationship to me. Figure it out. Before one of you gets hurt."

It was like an enlightenment for Matt. He realized that every little thing had first been done because of the connection you both had. That connection had later been turned into love. He had fallen in love with you without even knowing it. But he was sure that you felt the same.

He couldn't wait to get home to you. The whole flight back to Calgary he had been antsy and was fidgeting with his hands. Something he knowhe had done since he met you. You made him nervous.

He opened his apartment door to find you sitting at the kitchen table with your laptop and books scattered all over it. You were still studying. With long strides he walked up to you, something you haven't seen him do before.

"Matty what -"

You couldn't even finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. His hands cupped your cheeks as you clutched onto his wrists. Still overwhelmed with that kiss you couldn't bring a word out. Matthew could.

"I am completely, utterly, stupidly in love with you. And I know you feel the same. I'm so sorry that I'm such an idiot and didn't notice before."

With a small smile you moved your hand from his wrist to his cheek as you pulled him to you to kiss him yet again.

"You're right. I am absolutely in love with you too, Matthew Tkachuk."

------

You were back in the bar you first met Matt. It brought back good memories and you couldn't wait to make more. Different to that, you were now out with the Flames and the other WAGS to celebrate an important home win. You and Matt were sitting in a booth with Jonny and Meredith as you and her were talking about the wedding preparations she had made. Matthew was talking with Jonny about something completely different but the slight glances and his hand on your thigh made you aware of his constant presence and his protective nature over you. Not that you were complaining.

After you had talked about the wedding bouquets her and Jonny had chosen, you turned to Matt.

"Babe, I'm gonna get myself something to drink. You want something?"

He shook his head and pecked your lips.

"No baby, I'm good. You go ahead."

You made your way to the bar and ordered something to drink as you felt someone tapping your shoulder. Assuming it was one of the WAGS you turned around with a smile that quickly fell when you saw the stranger before you.

One thing you could describe him as was sleazy. He had gelled back hair and his smirk was probably supposed to ooze confidence. For you it just made your hair stand up. And not in a good way.

"Hey. You alone here? I can show you a good time."

He moved closer as you pressed yourself against the bar and were looking around for your boyfriend.

"Actually-"

You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence as you heard the voice of your boyfriend freeing you from this suffocating and uncomfortable situation.

"Hey! That's my fucking girlfriend, you dipshit!"

#nhl #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #calgary flames #flames #matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk x Reader

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silkenstarlight · 3 years

Text

a night in crimson valley

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Crimson Valley Motel. After she is accosted by a drunk John Walker, a familiar face offers her protection and comfort.

Pairing: Biker!bucky x bartender!reader

Warning/s: language, violence, alcohol use; sorta fluffy end

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s note: I’m unsure whether I want to turn this into a series; please let me know your thoughts!

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Her nose burned with the scent of blood and cheap vodka, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

In the early days, when she had first been stationed at this bar, she had stocked the cupboard beneath the register with supplies. Lemon-scented bleach, candy-blue windex, a dried up tube of wet wipes. Every night before closing, she had tugged on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and gone to work. Rubbing, scouring, swabbing away every spilled shot, every stray fingerprint. The dirt and spit and grime seemed to accumulate instantly, and yet, she continued her sisyphean housekeeping, trying to paint over the bar’s run-down reality with a layer of chemical gloss. But, all of that effort was to no avail; this was a roadside establishment, so there would always be sloppy drunks, and there would, most assuredly, always be bar fights, new stains to replace old. No use in hiding it.

Now, she’d grown numb to it, the cleaning supplies below the register covered in an ever-thickening coat of dust. The once shiny, lacquered surface of the bar now reflected dully beneath the low light, encrusted with old dirt and sour deeds. The floor was sticky, a years’ worth of spilled cocktails accumulating in a tacky glue trap. The mirror behind the bar, its surface cloudy and warped, reflected the late-night debauchery of men in desperate need of respite.

Every night, she wiped foggy glasses with the same gray, fraying rag, watching the same blurred, bearded faces pass through. The Crimson Valley Motel, owned by (Y/N)’s father, was a dependable option for truckers looking for a night away from the cramped quarters and lumpy cots of their vehicles. With its low nightly fares and extensive parking, and her father’s promise of discounted drink prices at the attached bar, customers returned without fail. Even still, she tried not to grow too attached to any patrons. They were just passing through, after all, with separate lives waiting for them beyond the road and the walls of the motel. But, sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself.

Bucky Barnes was one such case.

The first things she had noticed the moment he walked into the bar two years ago were his eyes. Piercing blue, stern and ever-watchful, set beneath the overhang of his perpetually furrowed brow. That first night, he had nursed his whiskey glass with two gloved hands, staring at the bar’s surface as if he were trying to memorize every intricacy and flourish in its woodgrain. She had appreciated his presence ever since, so quiet and watchful, a stark departure from the raucous drunkards and wild military men who usually frequented the Crimson Valley Bar. And, despite the fact that he drank as much as the other patrons, he never seemed affected by the alcohol, his gaze as clear and haunting as ever, even well into the dark hours of morning. It almost made her laugh, his perfect stoicism and strong jaw, the classic image of unperturbed masculinity. But she could sense the ghost of some deep sadness in the downturned set of his mouth. His shoulders always seemed tense, and he continually shifted his weight in his seat, peering over his shoulder every once in a while, as if suspicious that he was being watched. It made her swallow any skepticism about his demeanor, instead deciding that he was likely a very broken man, deserving of the space and quiet his countenance demanded. For that reason, she never asked him any questions, never made a move to satiate that burning curiosity within her. Better to keep a respectful distance than stir up unwelcome memories.

She had never even really spoken to him, and only knew his name because she once caught his signature on a receipt. By the time she read it, he had whisked away to spend the night in his motel room and prepare for departure early the next morning.

Whenever he came back, it was like she could sense his presence, could feel his steely gaze sweeping the bar. It was comforting, a sweet bubble of solace beneath the humming neon and peeling rock n’ roll posters, a space of quiet surrounded by the pressing screech of electric guitar and deep boom of drums. She never knew when he would return, his trucking routes and schedule difficult to predict with such minimal information, but she secretly looked forward to it. Another day, another opportunity to unwrap the quiet mystery of Bucky Barnes.

Tonight, the bar was crowded. Hopeful thoughts of seeing Bucky retreated to the very back corner of her mind as she poured sparkling streams of amber liquid into lines of waiting glasses, shaking and stirring and swirling again and again in the rote, mindless motions that a full house required. She had no room to daydream, not on a Saturday night, when more lonely truckers sought out the bar for company, and when the local military base flooded in on their night out. In a room full of loud men with wanting mouths, she needed to work quickly.

On nights like these, the men mostly left her alone, too absorbed in their own festivities to take much note of her. Beyond the simple “pleases” and “thank yous,” they seemed to recognize that any attempt to strike up a conversation would interrupt her flow and leave her begrudging, frustrated, and not exactly an ideal conversation partner. But, some men couldn’t take a hint.

She had been cutting lemon wedges, concentrating on creating an even slice and avoiding her fingertips with the dull knife blade. She counted each slice before pouring the wedges into a chilled metal bowl, her movements precise and rhythmic. 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3--

“Hey, bartender! I asked you a question.”

She knew it was John before she even bothered to look up. She sighed heavily, placing the knife on the counter and wiping her hands before tilting her gaze upwards.

John Walker was another regular here, but her opinion of him was very different than the tentative infatuation she harbored for Bucky Barnes. To put it simply, she did not like John. Whenever he swaggered past the bar’s threshold, flanked by his two favored cronies, she shuddered. Unlike the relatively polite regulars who frequented the bar, John was demanding, expecting (Y/N) to cater to his every whim without complaint. He was, apparently, a favored recruit at the military base. She just thought he was a privileged asshole. One time, he refused to tip her because she didn’t smile at him when she served his drink. And, another time, he broke his glass on purpose just to watch her clean it up.

Now, he was staring at her, head cocked and arms crossed, expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard him utter.

She sighed again, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, John. Didn’t catch your question.” Her voice was flat, lacking in genuine sympathy. “Mind repeating it?”

“Can’t even listen,” he said to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. “As I asked earlier, did you water down my fuckin’ snakebite?”

She stared at him, eyes boring into his cold blue ones, and she thought for a second. She was annoyed by his interruption, but this could go poorly if she didn’t handle it with care. If she said the wrong thing, he could get offended, and she was the only woman in a room full of men. She could hold her own in a fight and had some experience with self-defense, sure, but that wouldn’t hold up against a man with John’s stature and training. She couldn’t predict if any of the other men in the room would come to her rescue if things went south, but she couldn’t really blame them. He was tall and strong, and had a temper to boot. But his fragile masculinity, which compelled him to talk down to her and order such ridiculous drinks as a snakebite, wouldn’t survive if she talked back. So, her decision was made.

“Well, John,” she said, her voice low as she smirked. “Usually, you’re already plastered by the time you make it to my bar. I always have to water down your drinks because you can’t hold your fucking liquor.”

His face darkened, brows drawing downwards in a chilling expression of anger. He gritted his teeth together and pushed back from the bar, motioning to turn away from her and back to his friends. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”

She cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, just last weekend, you threw up all over the parking lot. My poor Pops had to clean it up.” She chuckled at the memory of her father, grumbling with a bucket and mop in hand, as John sat with his head in his hands in the front office. “You might not remember it, John, but I do. We all do.” The incident had occurred well before closing time, so many of the bar’s customers had seen it with their own eyes. One or two had surely caught it on camera.

“Are you fucking mocking me?” A vein popped out on his neck, his face growing read and hot.

She felt her pulse rise in fear, but she ignored it, hand resting next to the knife on the counter. “Maybe I am.” She leaned forward, leering at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it?” He laughed incredulously, picking up his half-full glass and examining its amber-colored contents briefly before hurling it at the mirrored wall behind her.

She ducked, shielding her face from splattering liquid and broken glass. “Shit.” She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantically clambering below the bar for the cleaning cupboard. She knew how this encounter would go, but she was starting to realize that she shouldn’t have pushed it. He had never actually threatened her physical harm before, resigning himself to simply being an asshole. Tonight, that had obviously changed.

“Nuh-uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice was still loud enough to pierce her eardrums over the pulsating music. He reached down to where she was, grasping for Windex in the dusty, cavernous cabinet, and roughly gripped her hair in his fist. He pulled up harshly, causing an unpleasant sting to radiate down her scalp. The breath caught in her throat.

She had fucked up. Badly.

He wrenched her close, until their faces were just inches apart. He examined her face, his own visage arranged in an unpleasant sneer. She looked straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down, even though she was frightened of what he might do.

“I should put you in your place.” His voice was quiet, only audible to her. She shuddered, lip curling in distaste. The sour taste of bile rose on her tongue at the violating way his eyes scanned her face, as if he were a predator examining his prey. A few patrons were watching, pausing their conversations to watch the show. But, none were helping, jumping up to arrive at her aid. A dark pit grew in her stomach at the observation.

He loosened his grip on her hair and she moved to pull back, but before she could, he spit in her face, a thick, hot wad of saliva landing on her cheek. Her mouth gaped in disgust, nose flaring, and she stepped back, wiping the insult from her face with her sleeve and slipping the knife she had been using earlier into her hand, concealing it behind her back. She retreated until her back was flush with the mirror behind her, eyes flitting wildly, trying to find a gap in the crowd where she could disappear and distance herself from him. But all she could see was his face, his hooked nose and hooded eyes, that awful, sneering expression, as he prepared to jump over the bar and bridge the gap between them.

But, before he could, his head slammed into the bar’s wooden surface with a sickening crack!

Her mouth dropped open in confusion, the rushing bout of adrenaline quickly waning in her veins as she took in the sight of John, head pinned to the counter by a gloved hand. Wait, is that--?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up from John’s floundering figure to find Bucky, his hand firmly wrapped in John’s hair, his face contorted in an expression of rage. She had never seen him like this, nose scrunched, eyes dark. His eyes briefly flickered to hers, and when their gazes met, his face softened slightly, as if to provide her with some sense of reassurance. The breath stalled in her throat, but before relief could flood into her limbs, she saw John stirring in Bucky’s grip.

“What… what the fuck, man?” John turned his head, cheek pressed against the bar’s cool surface, to stare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy.” Bucky’s voice was gruff and uncaring.

“Buddy?” John scoffed.

“Well, what’s your name, then?”

A laugh rose in John’s throat, bubbling over into a bitter, joyless sound. He was trying to intimidate Bucky into backing off, shifting his weight below him in an effort to distract him.

It didn’t work. Bucky simply pressed John’s face even harder into the counter, until the breath whooshed from John’s lips in a muffled, defeated gasp.

“I asked you a question.”

“Fine-- fine. Name’s Walker.”

“Well, Walker,” Bucky replied, leaning in close until his face obstructed John’s vision. “Keep your fucking mitts off my girl here.”

“What?” She couldn’t help it as the question left her lips in a surprised gasp. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to her again, lips pulling down in an embarrassed grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to call her that.

That moment was enough time for John to act.

Bucky grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps as John pushed out from under him. There was no time to think, no time to act, before John strode towards Bucky and socked him straight in the nose, Bucky’s head whipping violently to the side.

(Y/N)’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She stayed anchored to her spot in front of the mirror, unable to move. There wasn’t much that she could do. Now that John had initiated a physical fight, he likely wasn’t going to stop throwing punches until either he or Bucky collapsed. And with Bucky eliminated as a threat, there would be no one standing between John and her. With that thought, she brought the knife out from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. She watched Bucky and John with rapt attention, waiting for the fight to turn back in her direction again.

Blood began to gush from Bucky’s nostrils in a thick stream, staining his lips a wet scarlet and dribbling down his chin. But, he smiled, shaking his head slightly and chuckling darkly.

“You’re really askin’ for it now, Walker.”

Before (Y/N) could even blink, Bucky sprung, landing a jab and a right cross that hit John square in the chin. He grabbed John by the collar and slammed him into his knee, the pure force knocking the wind out of John’s chest with a meek groan. Bucky pushed John roughly into a table and John stumbled, causing a chair to clatter and fall, but he remained upright, leaning heavily against the table.

“You going to fight back at all?” Bucky’s goading tone took (Y/N) by surprise. Why was he egging him on?

John snorted and cracked his neck, trying to shake an encroaching sense of uncertainty from his limbs. He pushed off from the table and began a slow, circling orbit around the center of the room, sizing Bucky up with a violent, wolflike gaze, pushing the other customers flush against the wall. Bucky simply stood in place and watched, trying to anticipate John’s next move.

John stopped circling when he was directly across from (Y/N), Bucky between them. She felt John’s gaze slide from Bucky to her, his eyes languidly raking over her body, sensing out her fear. When he saw the knife in her hand, he raised an eyebrow in disapproval, shaking his head. Her heart pounded, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins once more.

John widened his stance and bent his knees, assuming an athletic stance in preparation to tackle Bucky. Bucky imitated his movement, planting his feet firmly into the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, once, twice, and then, he took off, running towards Bucky at full speed.

The room watched in silence, holding a collective breath. The only sound was the pounding of John’s boots against hardwood, the music paused long ago.

He hit Bucky with the force of a mack truck. It was enough to knock anyone off their feet, even someone who had fared as well as Bucky in the fight so far. John hit him so hard that they went flying, suspended in the air for a moment. For (Y/N), it felt so much longer, watching her savior struggle against the grip of his opponent in midair, uttering a quiet “Shit!” as his back slammed into the floor. And then, Bucky was still, John crouched over his immobile form, a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

(Y/N) felt her body move off its own accord, pushing away from the wall, past the safety of the bar’s counter, towards the aftermath of the fray. Her legs quivered, a hard lump rising in her throat as she pushed towards the edge of the crowd. She couldn’t see Bucky’s face, his head concealed by John’s hulking body. A shudder wracked her body, her hope waning.

It was like John could sense her presence. He looked up, his sickening grin showing glistening, too-white teeth. She flexed her fingers, adjusting her grip on the knife. John’s eyes caught the movement, sensing the glint of low light against the blade, and he smirked. He was about to rock back onto his knees, to get up and finish what he started, when Bucky’s head slammed into his.

Disoriented, (Y/N) stepped backwards, once again flush with the crowd. One moment, she had been preparing to fight, to let the blood-soaked evening devolve into even more violence. Then, the next, Bucky had suddenly reanimated, an almost superhuman force driving power into his limbs. He bucked John, still reeling from the unexpected headbutt, off of him with an aggressive, thrusting twist. John tumbled and collapsed on the floor next to Bucky, who slowly knelt, then stood, eyes on John the whole time. When John didn’t budge, splayed on the floor with a distant, vaguely dazed expression, Bucky turned his gaze to (Y/N).

The room was dead silent, save for John’s labored breathing and the sound of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood as he slowly walked towards (Y/N). The room seemed to fade around the two of them, the confused, awed, and fearful faces of the spectating patrons blurred together in an anonymous mass. It smelled of sweat and rust and spilled liquor, but she didn’t care, because Bucky was okay.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked the rest of the room, not taking his eyes off of (Y/N), even for a moment, lest she disappear, or worse. But she didn’t, staying rooted to the same spot, eyes glistening with gratitude. And no one responded to Bucky’s challenge.

When Bucky came to a stop a foot in front of her, the other customers began to quietly file out, afraid to utter any remarks that may provoke another altercation. John’s two cronies picked him up from the floor, hefting his arms over their shoulders and bolting for the exit, his boots dragging on the floor. (Y/N) watched them exit, watched them stuff John into the backseat of their car before they peeled out of the parking lot and took off with the screeching sound of retreating rubber.

“You know,” Bucky said, his voice soft in spite of the evening’s violent course. “You don’t have to worry about using that. You’re safe with me.” He pointed at the knife, still clutched in (Y/N)’s hands.

She looked down at the knife in her hands and then looked up at him, formulating a response, when she noticed that he had a gash on his jaw, as well as a still steadily-flowing nosebleed. The knife clattered to the floor as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was thick with worry, regretting the fact that he had suffered for her sake.

He shook his head. “I’ve gotten worse.”

“Let me help you.” She glanced urgently around the bar, now empty save for the two of them. “I can close up and bring the first aid kit to your room. I owe you, after all of that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He paused for a second, considering. “But, sure. A couple of bandaids wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there in ten.”

His brows creased together slightly, a chagrined smile curling his lips upwards. “Oh, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. We didn’t see where Walker went. He could be waiting just outside with those two other guys.”

She knew that both she and Bucky had seen them drive away, but she nodded anyways. “Alright. Just let me grab the first aid kit and my keys.”

“Deal.”

She picked the knife up from the floor and walked back to the bar, placing it gently in the sink. As Bucky walked towards the entrance, surveying the parking lot outside from the small, frosted window, she reached into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, pulling out a rusted, white box with a blaring maroon cross emblazoned on its front. She blew off the thin layer of dust that coated it and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook next to the mirror and joining Bucky at the entrance.

He turned towards her, noting the first aid kit, and grinned. “Room 102, here we come.”

She returned his smile as he opened the door, midnight air washing over them in a brisk, drafty waft. They stepped outside, engulfed in nighttime chill, and she shut the door and locked it, fumbling with the cold metal of the keys. Bucky stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, his body emanating an intoxicating warmth. She welcomed his proximity, wondering if he could sense the fact that she was cold, as they walked across the parking lot to his motel room.

He pulled his key from his back pocket and slid it through the card swipe, the door unlocking with a crisp click. She was looking out at the parking lot, at the trees and darkness beyond, wondering if John and his friends were in fact lurking out there somewhere, biding their time for the right moment to strike again. He was definitely the type to hold a grudge for a night like this. If he didn’t retaliate tonight, he would soon, would let her soak in the fear for a few days and then arrive at the bar unannounced with dues to pay.

Bucky cleared his throat, and (Y/N)’s attention snapped back to him. She looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and found that his smile was gentle and knowing.

“You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with a welcoming warmth. The door shut behind them. He walked over to the little oak nightstand next to the single queen-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp, its bulb washing the room in a dim, glowing halo of amber. She sighed, muscles relaxing, seeming to melt into the warmth, into the comfort of being somewhere besides the bar. She placed the first aid kit on the bed and shrugged off her cardigan.

“So, doc,” Bucky teased, approaching her at the foot of the bed. “What’s the plan? How’re you going to fix me up?”

“Well,” she said, squinting as she examined his face. “We’ll have to wash all that blood off first, so I can assess the damage.”

He gestured to the bathroom with one hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the bathroom and he flipped the light on, its white fluorescence a stark contrast from the soft light in the other room. She grabbed a bleach-white washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and turned on the faucet, dampening the cloth under the steady stream of water. She turned off the faucet and stepped back as Bucky leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“This might sting,” she said quietly, stepping into the space between his legs, his stance framing hers. He simply nodded in response. She tried not to think about their sudden proximity, the fact that she was alone in a motel room with a man who had risked his own safety to protect hers, a man she had been secretly pining over for a while now. Instead, she smoothed the wet washcloth in her hands and brought it up to his face, dabbing gingerly at a stream of blood that had dried on his cheek. When she brushed against the cut on his jaw, he winced, a sharp huff of breath leaving his nose.

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to handle the cloth with light fingers. “He really got you there.”

“Even if that’s true, part of me thinks I should thank the guy.”

(Y/N) paused. “W-what?”

“Well, he’s an absolute ass. Deserved what he got,” he chuckled. “But now, I’ve got the pretty girl who works at my favorite bar taking care of me. It was definitely worth a couple of scrapes.”

“I--” her response died in her throat, choked by the deep blush that was creeping up her neck. She paused dabbing at his face, looking at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, noting her creased brow and parted lips. “Too soon.”

“No-- no. It’s okay.” She shook her head and smiled, moving the washcloth to his upper lip as she wiped away the evidence of his bloody nose. I just didn’t think you felt that way, too.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, (Y/N) trying to avoid direct eye contact the whole time, lest her blush return, his face was clean. She stepped back and examined her handiwork before throwing the bloodied washcloth in the waste bin and leading Bucky back into the main room. She sat down on the bed, its springs groaning in a rusty bounce beneath her, and she opened the first aid kit, searching for a suitable bandage for his jaw. He knelt on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in with his arms but refusing to let his touch drift any closer without permission. He watched her fingers flit indecisively between the different band-aid choices.

Finally, she plucked one from its box, carefully unpeeling its wrapping. Bucky tilted his head slightly, allowing her easy access to the cut on his jaw, and she delicately placed the band-aid over it, careful not to press too hard against the tender skin. Her touch unconsciously lingered a moment longer, lightly caressing his face with the pads of her fingers. But after a few seconds, when she didn’t pull away, they both inhaled sharply, his face quickly growing hot. Their eyes met, and she dropped her hands to her sides, his piercing blue gaze boring into hers.

He blinked and stood, walking over to the door and hunching down to glance at the parking lot through the peephole.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) said, voice hushed as she snapped the first aid kit shut. She stood, grabbing her cardigan, preparing to meet the cold outside and run to her permanent room. “Thank you. For everything.”

He turned away from the door. “Hold on.” His voice was grave, a stark contrast to the light, flirty turn of the evening since they had entered his room. “We still don’t know if he’s out there.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and shifted her weight, silently grateful for his hesitancy to let her be alone. “What are you suggesting?”

“You can take the bed.” He gestured to the spot on the carpet between the bed and the door. “I can take the floor.”

“A-are you sure?”

“If I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “But, it’s your decision to make. I can walk you back to your room, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She thought for a second. She agreed with Bucky’s observation that John may still be out there, lying in wait, and he had been spot-on with the remark that it would be frightening to be alone after tonight’s violence. So far, Bucky had proven himself to be good. She felt comfortable around him. He didn’t try to touch her, and he still gave her options, despite the fact that he seemed oddly protective of her. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t try to slip into bed next to her in the darkest hours of morning. He was a good man. He would live up to his promise and give her space, acting as a blockade between her and the outside world. For tonight, he would be the promise of warmth, of comfort, of safety.

“I think I’d be more comfortable here. With you.”

“Alright.” He offered a simple reply, walking over to her and taking the first aid kit and her cardigan from her, placing them on top of the dresser. “You’ll be safe with me,” he reassured her, bending down to look her in the eyes when he said it, uttering each word with heavy truth.

She nodded and bit her lip. When she felt her blush creeping back up her face, those stern, icy blue eyes of his fixated on her, she turned away, directing her attention towards the bed, hands smoothing over the covers. She grabbed a pillow, its blanched case stiff and rough from continual washing, and handed it to him. He smiled and took it, humming a low laugh and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

She pulled back the sheets as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy, her body absolutely exhausted, but grateful for a safe place to rest after the day’s peril. She felt herself lull into a hypnotic state of rest before she could even pull the covers over her body, listening to the rumble of the motel’s heater and the whoosh of cars driving past on the distant highway.

Bucky finished in the bathroom and tiptoed to the closet. He grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf, its woolen fabric starchy and coarse, and plopped it onto the floor next to his pillow. Then, he looked down at (Y/N), curled up on the bed, already halfway into a dream. He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, and he reached for the blankets on the bed, pulling them up over her sedated form. She shifted under the covers, settling into their warmth, and he turned off the bedside lamp, the room submerged in a sudden, but not unwelcome, darkness.

✧

She woke to light streaming through the gap in the curtains.

The room smelled of lavender detergent and carpet cleaner, and of something distinctly masculine and unfamiliar, the scent of mint toothpaste and rainfall. She stretched, her body grateful for a restful night as memories of the previous day trickled back in. John’s threats, Bucky’s heroism. Her shyness, her inability to tell him how she felt, despite the fact that he so clearly reciprocated those feelings he had hinted at.

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. On the floor next to her, the spare blanket was folded neatly, the pillow she had given to Bucky the previous night stacked on top of it. His duffel was gone from its perch on the dresser. Any trace of him had disappeared, save for the scent that hung in the air and the memories that clung to (Y/N)’s brain.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She had a lot of work to do today. She supposed that she should probably clean up the bar after last night’s incident, and should break open the cleaning supplies that she had left untouched for so long. She wished that she had had the chance to say goodbye to Bucky before he left, a faint sense of longing gripping her throat. But, at least the cleaning would take her mind off of that, for the time being.

As she stood, she brushed through her hair roughly with her fingers, gathering the first aid kit and her cardigan. She surveyed the room one last time, bathed in soft morning light, when a square of white on the nightstand caught her eye.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she walked over, abandoning her things on the bed. On the nightstand was a notepad, an uncapped pen sitting next to it. A brief note was scribbled on it.

Call me if he comes back.

Or, if you need me. For anything.

-Bucky

The message was followed by a phone number.

(Y/N) ripped the note from the pad and stared at Bucky’s slanted, spiked handwriting for a moment, noting the sharp angles and rushed script of his letters.

She stuffed the note in her back pocket and smiled.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes self insert #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier

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tacticaldiary · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I request a scenario where the reader gets into an accident after a fight with any of the karasuno boys? Idk but im just in the mood for some regret and angst

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Have fun! :) @nachotrash

My Fault

Pairing: Reader x Sugawara Koushi

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Arguments and accidents often go hand in hand, as the pair learn quickly.

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“Maybe I’ll just leave then!” Y/N exclaim angrily.

This was the third time this week Sugawara had blown her off to go hand out with his friends and Y/N was sick of it. She was sick of getting ready and feeling excited, only to be crushed 10 minutes before they had to meet. She had waved his apologies off the first two times but now? She’s had enough of this.

They had been having a go at each other for a good half hour now, their voices escalating from soft explanations to frustrated yells.

“Don’t be dramatic, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes a little.

“It doesn’t seem like you want to be around me anyway!” She scoffs, finally turning away from him and grabbing her jacket from where she had thrown it over the back of the couch. Sugawara’s anger dies down a little as he realises that Y/N actually means to walk out.

“Hey, wait!” He takes a step towards her and reaches out to grab her wrist. “Sweetheart, wait a second-”

“Don’t!” she snaps yanking her wrist away. “You’re free to spend the night with your friends, Koushi. Don’t let me hold you back.” She turns on her heel and ignores his pleads, slamming the door shut on her way out.

Sugawara stands there for a good minute, shocked. He can’t quite believe he had driven her to the point of leaving. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, thinking about their ‘conversation’. He had indeed cancelled on their plans...thrice, but Y/N had claimed it was alright with her. His eyes widen as he starts to realise how she was right.

He was neglecting her. He let her go. Why hadn’t he stopped her? How could he have let this happen? Oh, God, was she crying when she left, he can’t remember and-

A clap of thunder startles him out of his thoughts. He looks out into the night as droplets of water start to pitter patter onto the window. He scrambles to grab his own jacket, cursing himself for waiting so long to go after her. He never should have let her go in the first place. What if she was hurt?

The cold wind sinks its teeth into her and prickles her skin uncomfortably the moments she steps out onto the sidewalk. Pulling her jacket closer around her, she clutches her arms close to herself, letting out a watery sniff. She refused to go back, even if it was freezing outside. How could he be so insensitive?

She missed her boyfriend. That was it. All she wanted to do was curl up in his arms and watch a movie like they usually did. She hadn’t seen him at all thi week, and she missed his smile, his laugh, his teasing. She can’t see how he doesn’t see things from her point of view.

Didn’t he miss her?

The thought allows the tears she’d been holding back to sting her eyes and slip down her cheeks. Did he not like spending time with her anymore? When did that start? She claps a hand over her mouth as a tiny sob escapes her lips. Tears cloud her vision, making everything a soft blur. She refused to go running back to him with an apology. If he wanted to make things right, Sugawara would have to come to her, she decides.

Sniffing she moves to wipe the tears out of her eyes. Too caught up in her misery, she doesn’t hear frantic footsteps behind her, nor does she hear her name being called. If she had turned around Y/N would have seen her boyfriend running to her, a look of fear and worry on his face.

She also fails to notice the bright headlights heading straight towards her, a car swerving off the road, skidding her way. The blaring horn catches her attention, attempting to warn her, but it’s far too late.

Y/N doesn’t even get a chance to scream. The crunch of bone and Sugawara’s yell is instantaneous...and then there’s nothing.

A steady beeping noise slowly drags her back to consciousness. As the seconds tick by she can start to hear someone sniffling, smell the clean smell of a hospital, and feel someone holding her hand. She groans after a while and summons enough energy to crack open an eye. The action drains her, as she stares at the ceiling. The warm hand suddenly disappears and is replaced with a familiar mop of grey hair.

She sees her boyfriend looking down at her, tired and frazzled, his eyes rimmed red from crying. Y/N sees his mouth moving, but can’t really register what he’s saying. SHe feels warmth in her chest as she realises that he’s here, he’s actually here with her. Smiling a little, she feels the edges of her vision go black again.

“...K-Koushi?” she mutters, almost indecipherable, before she falls back into darkness. If she had stayed conscious for a little while longer, she would have seen Sugawara panicking and calling for a doctor.

The second time she wakes up goes much more smoothly. Her eyes flutter open easily this time. She yawns a little and stares at the tiled ceiling for a bit. Shifting a little, she winces as her arm throbs, looking down she frowns upon seeing her entire forearm covered by a cast. Now that she’ss thinking about it, her whole body aches. Sighing, she suddenly notices someone’s in the room. Looking over, she sees Sugawara slumped over in the chair next to her bed.

He looks dead tired and is in the same clothes she last saw him in. Shifting in a attempt to sit up, her cast bumps into the edge of the bedframe and she hisses in pain. The soft sound is enough to wake up the guy, who groans a little and sits up, rubbing his eyes.

All thought of going back to sleep are thrown out the window as he sees Y/N wide awake.

“Y-Y/N!” he stands suddenly and rushes over to her. His hands over in front of her hesitantly, not wanting to touch her and accidentally jostle an injury. He drops them to his side. “You’re alright.” He says looking over her.

“Koushi.” She tilts her head and Sugawara catches the bruises on her shoulder that disappear into her shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says moving closer, his voice a little choked up. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. If I’d listened you wouldn’t be here, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I-”

“Koushi!” She cuts him off. “It’s alright.”

“No! No it’s not. It’s not! Your arms broken because of me, you’re in pain and-”

“And it’s not your fault.” She frowns. “Last I remember you didn’t hit me with your car.”

“But I-”

“...you still hurt me. But I’m alright.” she reaches out and tugs on his sleeve pulling him closer, wrapping her good arm around his middle. He gingerly puts his arms around her shoulder and very gently squeezes. She huffs out a laugh against his chest. “I’m not made of glass y’know.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.” he mumbles into her hair. “‘M sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice is muffled aas he nuzzles into her hair, and Y/N can feel drops of tears on her head. She whispers reassurances as he apologises over and over again, regretting the whole day.

Y/N lets him hold and fuss over her the whole time she’s in the hospital. He never leaves her side the whole time.

Request Are Open and Appreciated

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midnightwhispers12 · 3 years

Text

So, I have this idea in my head, and I’ll never write it out into a coherent fic, but the basic outline is:

The story starts with a montage of Stiles doing his caretaker-shtick - grocery shopping, cooking healthy meals, washing dishes, cleaning up the pack’s shared spaces, planning ahead for who needs to be where at what time, making sure everyone has everything they need, doing laundry, reminding the ‘wolves to schedule themselves off when they inevitably forget what day the full moon is again, etc, etc.

But.

The thing is? Stiles hates it. He HATES it. He started doing this stuff for his dad after his mom died and his dad disappeared into the office and a bottle of Jack, but it was always an obligation of the “if I’m more useful and less trouble, maybe he’ll want to spend time with me more often” variety. Their relationship eventually got better again (mostly), but if Stiles stopped doing the household chores, they just didn’t ever seem to get done. And eventually, they’d be out of food for the second week in a row, or he’d run out of clean clothes, or bathtub would be growing the mold that aggravated Scott’s asthma again, and Stiles would give in and just take care of it. And after enough times of trying to subtly shift some of the responsibility back onto his dad, and it failing every time, he just quit trying. It was less infuriating to do just do it himself.

When he moved in with Derek, some small, unspoken part of him was hoping that things would change. And, in Derek’s defense, it’s not like he just immediately refused to do anything around the apartment. But Stiles had a long habit at that point of just doing what needed done, and not waiting for someone else to do it. So he’d pick up groceries on his way home from work or class, and it wasn’t like he was going to intentionally not get the bananas for Derek’s nasty protein shakes while he was there anyway. He’d do his own laundry, and throw Derek’s laundry in too, because there’s no need to waste water on two half-full loads.

And slowly but surely, almost without even realizing it, he was back to being responsible for ALL the household chores. It only got worse once the pack filtered back in to living in Beacon Hills full time as they finished their degrees. A pack meeting needed to happen, so who was responsible for planning it? Stiles. Who was in charge of knowing when everyone was available? Stiles. Who had to clean up when the pack showed up uninvited and left their living room and kitchen in shambles? Stiles.

It’s not like he got to just stop taking care of his dad’s house either. He didn’t do as much anymore, but he and Derek had dinner at his dad’s at least every Sunday evening. They used to bring take-out over, but after the Sheriff gained 20lbs and got chewed out by his doctor for his cholesterol levels, Stiles went back to cooking for all of them every Sunday. Which turned into bringing groceries over for the meal he intended to make, because John didn’t have what he needed in the house. Which turned into bringing over a week’s worth of groceries, because the pantry and fridge were completely bare. Which turned into meal-prepping for the next week after dinner, while his dad and Derek watched whatever ESPN was showing, because seriously, eating fast food six days a week was just beyond unhealthy. And if he wanted space to cook, he had to do the week’s worth of dishes piled up in the sink. Plus, he always wound up cleaning whatever bathroom he used if he needed the toilet while they were visiting, because... gross. At least his dad seemed to be doing his own laundry now?

It doesn’t happen all at once, of course. Things build up over time, so slowly he doesn’t notice taking on one more task, and one more, and one more. No one likes doing chores, right? But someone’s got to do them. Someone has to plan ahead for the pack. If he sees that something needs done, it’s best to just go ahead and do it and get it over with, right?

Until one day, he’s just exhausted. It doesn’t make any sense, because he slept a full 7 hours last night, work is no more stressful than normal, there’s not a murderous monster of the week trying to kill everyone, nothing is wrong - everything’s actually been going surprisingly well for a while now. But Stiles is still completely and utterly wiped. Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something? Since it’s Saturday, he decides to just take it easy and hopefully he’ll feel better tomorrow.

Derek comes over and scratches his scalp, taking a beyond obvious sniff of him (weirdo werewolves) when he sees there’s no breakfast happening, but just kisses his head and gets himself a bowl of cereal when he doesn’t smell anything amiss. The pack comes over and someone throws together sandwiches for lunch, and then they order takeout for supper. His dad shows up after his shift is over, and really, it’s a pretty typical Saturday, other than Stiles staying on the couch most of the day, instead of being up and moving around constantly. By midnight, he still doesn’t feel sick, which is good, and his mind and body both feel a little more rested. But he’s still somehow... existentially exhausted, maybe? Or something like that anyway, he doesn’t really know. It doesn’t make any sense!

But then he gets up to go to the bathroom and refill his water bottle. He looks around, and sees the clutter around the living room - the scattered pillows and blankets, magazines and books, cups and popcorn bowls, crumbs everywhere, water rings and greasy fingerprints on every flat surface. He walks into the kitchen and sees the sink completely full of dishes, the countertops piled with empty takeout boxes and trash. His foot actually sticks to the floor when he takes another step, where apparently someone spilled something and didn’t clean it up. The half-bath off the kitchen is occupied, so he shuffles toward the bedroom, and sees the laundry basket piled high; he usually does laundry on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t get to it this morning, and clearly Derek didn’t either. He finally makes it into the master bathroom, and sees Derek’s wet towels from this morning thrown on the floor.

As Stiles takes care of business on auto-pilot, he thinks about needing to go to his dad’s house tomorrow - planning what to make for the week, picking up groceries on the way there, cleaning the kitchen, cooking supper, cleaning up, making meals for the rest of the week to put in the fridge, cleaning up again, probably cleaning the bathroom.

He thinks about all the other things he’ll need to do tomorrow here at home - laundry he didn’t get done today, cleaning the living room and kitchen where it was left a mess, which means dishes, trash, sweeping, mopping, and picking up all the clutter, at least. Then MORE meal planning and grocery shopping because he didn’t get that done today either. The pack decided earlier that they wanted to go to the beach next weekend, so that’ll need planned - who’s driving, where they’re going, food and drinks to buy and pack, sunscreen, towels, after-sun gel (because werewolves always say they can’t burn, but then they do, and they WHINE, it’s so ridiculous), extra clothes because someone always forgets, talc powder and wet wipes to get all the sand off before they get back in the car, umbrellas, toys to make sandcastles (and enough shovels that the giant children won’t fight over them), a volleyball for the net... so many things. And if he doesn’t plan ahead for it all, and gather everything they need, then no one will, and it’ll be a miserable trip full of grouchy ‘wolves.

The more Stiles thinks about everything that needs done, the heavier the invisible weight on him feels, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling more tired than he did when he woke up this morning. Derek walks into the bedroom, apparently to change out of his tight jeans and into sweatpants for the last movie of the night, but he throws his jeans down on the floor NEXT to the laundry basket, which is RIGHT THERE.....

And something snaps in Stiles. The proverbial straw has officially broken the camel’s back, and he’s just DONE. He can’t remember the last time anyone else did a chore, or cleaned up their own mess. He’s not entirely sure how everything got to this point, but he’s abruptly furious enough to make sure it doesn’t continue on this way.

Derek trails off from his last sentence, looking over at Stiles when he smells the boiling rage coming off of him, and follows after Stiles as Stiles stalks back out into the living room to glare at all the people gathered there, werewolf and human alike. One by one, the pack notices the steam coming out of Stiles’ ears, and fall silent in apprehension. Stiles is irritated and annoyed pretty frequently, but this level of anger is rare. What’s the deal?

The deal is - Stiles is on strike. They are a bunch of full grown adults, and as of right now, they’re going to have to pull on their big wolf undies and start acting like it. He is DONE acting like their parent, and he’s not going to do it anymore. If they want to eat, they’ll have to cook. If they want to eat nothing but fast food and die of a heart attack, that’s their choice to make. If they want to live in filth, so be it. If they have a miserable trip to the beach because no one planned ahead and packed the necessities, well, it sucks to be them. If they schedule themselves to work on the full moon, that’s their own problem, he’s not warning them or fixing it for them anymore. He’ll be getting a separate laundry basket for himself, and if Derek wants clean clothes, he can wash them himself.

They want to know what happened to family/pack taking care of each other? You know what, what DID happen to that? When’s the last time anyone attempted to take care of something for HIM? When’s the last time someone else saw something that needed done, and just did it? Or do they even SEE the things that need done anymore? No, because they’re too used to Stiles just taking care of it, and they don’t have to think about it. But this system has turned them all into spoiled, ungrateful brats, and he’s not enabling that anymore. He’s just not.

At first, the pack thinks Stiles is just being overly dramatic, Derek had warned them he wasn’t feeling well, after all. But over the next few weeks, they start to notice. Things just aren’t getting done. Who was responsible for this before? Oh yeah, Stiles. Why don’t they have want they need? Oh right, Stiles stopped packing for anyone but himself. It’s just little things here and there at first, but they add up quickly.

Meanwhile, Stiles has given himself permission to quit carrying the mental load for everyone, and he’s stopped trying to take care of every single little thing for a giant group of people, and he’s feeling so much more relaxed than even he expected. Yeah, it’s a little strange not cooking for Derek, but they had a long talk about it the day after Stiles exploded rage all over everyone, and Derek sees where he hasn’t held up his end. Stiles staunchly refused to do any household caretaking for the next month, and Derek agreed; they’re going to talk about it when the month is up, and decide then how they can fairly divide their responsibilities. No one else in the pack has even tried to talk to him about it, not even his dad. They did show up for Sunday dinner like usual, but when Stiles refused to cook or clean the kitchen so someone else could cook, they wound up just ordering from the local pizza place. Stiles felt a little guilty as he watched his dad eat greasy pizza, but he reminded himself over and over that his dad was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

It takes time for the pack to feel normal again, and Stiles sometimes feels a little guilty about that too, but Derek is on his side, so it’s bearable. Derek is the one that had to clean up the mess the pack left when they all stormed out the night Stiles went on strike, after all. Slowly though, one by one, the pack members come to Stiles and each one quietly apologizes for taking Stiles for granted, for not appreciating everything he did for them. Over time, they all begin to take up more responsibility for the pack, and as a result, they feel more invested in the pack too. They become less a group of people thrown together, and more a cohesive unit. Stiles does start contributing again, but he’s careful to only take on his share. And he has to take some deep breaths to not burst into tears the first time a pack member comes over with a haul of junk food for movie night, and they actually thought to bring him Reese’s cups and Twizzlers, his two favorites.

He thought life was good before, and it was. But this? This is better.

#sterek #teen wolf #fic outline #more than I thought I’d wind up writing? but still not a real fic #and I don’t THINK I’ve read this exact plot line anywhere but I’m also very aware it’s not a super original idea #it’s probably completely OOC but i don’t care #because chores suck and one person shouldn’t be responsible for all of them #everyone should contribute

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Confession.”

Hope you guys have a great Monday, and hope you like the story.

The rundi pilot maneuvered his ship around a chunk of space debris, cutting low as he watched the slow and leisurely path of the rocket as it began on its trajectory towards the moon. Radar was almost impossible to use in the debris field these humans called an orbit, so it was up to his eyes to make out any incoming hostels.

They circled low and then wide around the slow moving rocket keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors , which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.

***

A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn’t seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things,though a part of her said that was not the case.

She had been suspicious of the Un president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations . At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two.

The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.

And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.

She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once . She imagined that such a stunt wasn’t entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.

The chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant, “The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.

She nodded slowly, “Good work, keep an eye out.”

***

The Un president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn’t over. She glanced into the crowd expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.

Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her.

She glanced upwards towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn’t much feel like clapping with them.

She turned on her heel and walked down the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.

She sat down next to Admiral Massie arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.

“That didn’t exactly go as planned.” he muttered softly.

“It will if your men are ready.” She snapped back her palms cold and sweaty.”

Admiral Massie nodded, “Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision.” He glanced towards the lectern, “So I would keep ahold of that red folder of yours.”

On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir’s camp licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.

The UN president leaned back in her seat, “You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later.”

He stood and nodded slowly, “Of course madame president.” he turned to walk away catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn’t much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.

The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.”

***

Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn’t like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn’t really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.

Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favores with the people rather than doing the right thing. Plus she found the president herself to be superficially charming but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his affect on her to begin with.

She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.

‘Please help us.’

Admiral kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn’t noticed?

‘Look up.’

jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun. She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.

‘Now look into the crowd.’

She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.

Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.

‘Not a starborn, A halfbreed, my name is Eris, Admiral Vir’s…… daughter/’

Oh…. oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of hsi reports.

“What do you want.” She mouthed quietly.

‘We need your help, the UN president is planning to have Admiral Vir Killed, and Admiral Massie is on his way to make the order, please, you have to do something.”

Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet very quickly glancing at the Un president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her

“Are you feeling well Admiral.”

She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath, “I…. Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it’s the heat.”

“You should sit down, have someone bring you some water.” The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn’t just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.

“No I….. I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?”

The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi’s retreating figure.

***

General massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two thousand year old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.

That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth’s defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defence against extraterrestrial attack. General Massie made a face, though he wouldn’t doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those xenos fuck them over.

Everyone in their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.

The thought made Admiral massie cringe. It was a well kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn’t nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn’t allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.

And Jupiter how he hated that man.

Stupid, juvinile egotistical xeno fucker.

Today was the day all of that came to an end.

He cut right just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.

“Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over.”

“Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over.”

He turned on the screen giving himself time to look the radar over as twenty dots appeared on screen.” Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year. WIth a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.

“fFlight one this is Earth one, Operation After Apollo is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident.”

“Roger that Earth one.”

“You TRAITOR!”

***

Admiral Massie spun in his seat eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man’s order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.

She was too late.

The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly Aimed her handgun at him her grip steady her aim true.

“Call off your dogs.” She snarled

Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.

“Flight one this is earth one…” her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.

But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.

The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.

Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn’t expecting but should have.

She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his ar, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.

He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.

Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.

She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.

He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency ready to call in lunar support.

There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning her her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.

Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red, “Nice try, Kelly.”

***

Donovan Red waited spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the omen. The group of them weren’t soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn’t imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to be good.

“Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy.”

“Yeah Cinderella, I copy.”

“See anything?”

“Nope not a….” he paused, “Wait.” there was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk, “Hold that thought Apollo.” he detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.

A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here.

It began to accelerate.

He accelerated after it

Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.

Thunderhawk has made lock. The cool female voice said from his console.

“Oh shit, Admiral r-’ He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere blasting the thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It’s wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.

“What the fuck!.” he turned to fly after it, but was stopped.

“Red, stand down that's a Rundi UAV.”

“Rundi, I thought it was the rundi we were worried about,” He called in confusion.

“Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked on us. It looks like they’re helping.”

He grunted and cursed under his breath, switching the coms, “Boys and girls if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side.” Just then another thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the thunderhawk attempted to escape.

It cut upward, justin time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.

The thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.

“Good shot, girl.:

He said over his radio.

“Thanks boss.”

***

Admiral Vir floated before the console knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.

“Admiral what the hell is going on.”

Adam took a deep breath, “it seems as if we are under attack.”

The two of them exchanged glances, “From who! What the fuck!”

Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them, “I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head

“What are we going to do!”

“Radio Houston.”

Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did they heard only static, “Shit…. Something is jamming our coms.”

Adam took a deep breath, “Well I guess all we have is Donovan and the Rundi to protect us. Lets’ hope they do it right.”

***

Admiral massie laughed, “You’re as dumb as you look Kelly.”

She stood slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.

She didn’t generally tend to agree with massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm, “You aren’t going to get away with this.” She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs

Massie was too amped to notice.

“Doesn’t matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir.”

“Whose Idea was this, the President or yours.” She held her hands out to the side.

“Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow, “Is it wise to incriminate your friends alone with you.”

“That bitch, I could care less. And if i am going down she is going down with me. The president make think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead than it doesn’t matter what we did because diplomation relations will dissolve and it will be all over.”

He lifted the gun to her face, “Goodby kelly.”

She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind, “May I say one last thing.”

He paused.

“Turn around.”

“Very funny, he lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came. Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down. Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.

She took a deep breath, “Great timing you three.

Sunny nodded, “Anytime.”

Admiral kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn’t get through, “Damn it.” She cursed turning to look at Sunny and the others, “I was too late, the ships have already been deployed.”

She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty, “Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don’t want her to have time to cover her own ass.”

Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction

Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral massie.

Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny’s eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.

“Did you catch him?” The Chairwoman asked

“No thanks to you.” Sunny snarled

The chairwoman waved her off, “I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn’t do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early.”

Admiral kelly stood slowly, “You knew about this.”

The charwoman shook her head, “not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assasination attempts on Admiral Vir’s life. I’ve had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld. She sighed and I called the hit on him with those pirates knowing who Captain kell was hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could.”

Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face, “You called a hit on him!”

The charwoman did not seem perturbed, “Those pirates couldn’t have…. How do the humans say…. Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leather of the anti alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn’t have said who.”

“And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass.”

The chairwoman hissed, “do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy. Not on your life. I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life . I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.

***

One of the silver UAV’s exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with lunar forces for backup.

They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the thunderhawks forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.

He spun down and under cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.

There was no way there were going to keep up with this for long.

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elvendara · 3 years

Text

Mysme Reverse Big Bang

This was such an exciting project! I got to work with the

AMAZING, FANTABULOUS, INCREDIBLE, TALENTED, SKILLED, BEAUTIFUL @koutone !!!

We gushed, we sighed, we giggled over YOORAN and brought you some angst!

Here is my half of the contribution for the @mysme-rbb ! Make sure to check out @koutone 's art too! It will make you WEEP!

AO3

*spoilers for Mystic Messenger's Secret End*

The room was dark and stuffy, as if the window hadn’t been opened in months. Saeran knew that wasn’t the case, he’d been over just a few days ago. Yoosung and he had been seeing each other exclusively for almost a year and traded spending the night at each other’s places. His house was more comfortable but sometimes they didn’t want to be bothered by his brother, Saeyoung and his wife MC. It wasn’t that they minded hanging out with them, it was just that sometimes they wanted to be alone.

The younger man was an avid texter. There were times when Saeran would have to mute his phone, as it could ping ten times in thirty seconds, every thought something to be shared. It didn’t bother him one bit, though Saeran preferred to read and answer maybe once an hour. It was a system that worked well for them both. Yoosung had early on let him know that he didn’t need to respond to every text. The last several days however, Yoosung’s texting had begun to dwindle. It was so slight that at first Saeran had not noticed. Once he did, he assumed it was because his boyfriend was studying for upcoming exams, but complete silence was not something he would ever do. There hadn’t even been a single complaint about being too tired to study. He would usually try to engage Saeran in conversation so he could procrastinate. To so suddenly go radio silent for several hours was not normal for the blond. Saeran had then tried to call him, but the calls went straight to voicemail. It seemed like a giant red flag, so he had decided to check on him.

Yoosung’s room was notoriously chaotic, clothes strewn about, empty soda cans, and a trashcan that was constantly overflowing. Yet Saeran had never seen it this bad. He had to sidestep several aluminum cans and a couple of convenience store plastic food containers, and he might have stepped on a half-eaten piece of pizza. He shook his slippers off and hoped he could keep his socks clean at least. When he finally made it to the window, he threw the curtains wide open. There was a startled sound from the middle of the room and Saeran noticed a blonde head pop up. Yoosung rose to his feet, his hands over his sensitive amethyst eyes. His blond strands were in disarray and he made it more so by running his hand through the yellow locks. He sniffled, bleary eyes swollen and red, it was obvious that he had been crying for a good long while.

“Yoosung! Oh my god what is going on? What happened?” he hurried to the man, forgetting all about opening the window and letting the stuffiness out. He reached out to take his boyfriend in his arms but Yoosung startled him.

“Don’t touch me!” he slapped Saeran’s hands away. The red-head backed up a step and held his hands out in front of him.

He looked at his boyfriend critically from head to toe. There was something wrong here. This was more than just sadness. Saeran recognized the symptoms, knowing that while Yoosung hid his depression well from others, he had always been completely open with Saeran about it. This episode looked like it was going to be a hard one. He usually let Saeran comfort him quite easily and he had never seen him so angry either.

“OK.” he tried to stay calm, knowing how easily it was to overstimulate someone who was having a depressive episode. He wanted desperately to take Yoosung in his arms but knew from personal experience that it would be one of the worst mistakes he could make. Any contact when he didn’t want it would be catastrophic. He kept his voice even and tried not to sound condescending.

“How...how can you look at me! How can you love me? You can’t! I know you can’t!” Yoosung spat, some blond strands plastered to his forehead from his sweat. “You hate me! I would hate me if I were you!”

“Don’t say that. I don’t hate you Yoosung, you didn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“That’s not true! I was blind, and stupid! How could I believe she was so innocent? I should have known! I knew her the best besides V! I should have seen it! He tried to hide it, hide what she was! I did the same thing. I didn’t see who she really was because I didn’t want to! She was a monster, and I...I... I’m a monster too!” he screamed, his tightened fists striking at his thighs. It tore at Saeran’s heart.

“Please...please stop Yoosung.” Saeran pleaded, his own tears trailing down his cheeks uncontrollably.

Yoosung fell to the floor and began to slam his fists against his head. Saeran didn’t hesitate, crouching down and grabbing his wrists to pull his fists away from his head. Yoosung reacted violently, slamming his fists against Saeran and connecting with his nose painfully. It made him see stars, getting hit on the nose was excruciating, as the stinging sensation confirmed. No wonder so many defense experts taught how to do it in several different ways. He shook his head and tried to clear it, attempting to keep his balance as Yoosung kicked out blindly, hitting his legs and arms. Saeran fell back, his bloody nose forgotten as he fended off the sudden attack. He understood it was a defensive coping mechanism and not Yoosung trying to hurt him on purpose.

“I said don’t touch me!” he screamed and scuttled backwards. “I don’t deserve kindness. I deserve pain. As much pain as you went through. As much pain as everyone else that she ensnared went through! I should have seen it! But no, I didn’t want to!” he pulled his knees up to his chest and hid behind his hands sobbing uncontrollably. He continued his tirade but the words were unintelligible.

Saeran wiped his bloody nose absently with the sleeve and sat heavily. He felt useless as Yoosung raged out of control. This wasn’t the first time, but it was turning out to be his worst yet. The younger man was usually bubbly and happy, though Saeran was well aware of his depressive side. It mostly manifested with mild symptoms. Quiet crying, some shaking, negative thoughts but it had never been this severe. Yoosung had never said such horrible things about himself. He wondered what had triggered the intensity of the outburst. He got up on his knees but refrained from getting any closer to his boyfriend.

He watched helplessly as Yoosung’s body shook, the only sound between them the occasional sob and cough that wracked his body. He looked so frail, so vulnerable, as if he could be snapped in two with a snap of his fingers. He sat there in silence and felt Yoosung’s pain. He sat in the pain with him. He shared it as best he could. Whether the blond wanted him there or not, he wanted him to feel his presence. It tore at his heart to see him like this, knowing all he could do was be there. As bad as it was to go through an episode like this, being on this side of it, in his opinion, was much worse. He felt helpless, impotent, useless.

Once Yoosung’s sobs subsided somewhat Saeran spoke softly, “Yoosung, please look at me.” Yoosung only shook his head, the despair coming off him in waves. It was devastating to witness, and it made Saeran feel even more respect and appreciation for what Yoosung went through as he suffered his own bouts of depression. When they had first began to date Saeran had tried to hide those bouts, but it had only made the ensuing explosion worse. Yoosung had taken his verbal attacks with patience and love, never showing irritation about any of it. It had taken months for the red-head to realize that Yoosung was there to stay.

Now Saeran could see what a Herculean task his boyfriend had had. Several times over. The least he could do now was be there for Yoosung, no matter how much vitriol the man threw at him. This wasn’t the real Yoosung. The kind, compassionate, ray of sunshine. Yes, this was part of him, but it was a deceptive part, something deep inside of him that felt wrong or guilty for things he had no control over.

He looked like a lost child, frightened and alone. Saeran scooted forward, being careful not to come into contact with him. “I know you feel out of control right now.” he spoke gently. “And that’s OK. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yoosung shook his head muttering, “No no no no no... You don’t know SHIT! How could you! She hurt you, she hurt you for years! She’s my cousin! How...how can you look at me? I’m so ashamed! I’m nothing, I’m dirt, garbage! You deserve better.” he closed in on himself, his body molding against itself.

Saeran sobbed, his body shaking as he cried for the pain Yoosung was in. “Babe please, don’t do this, don’t say those things, they aren’t true.” he leaned forward wanting desperately to touch him, holding his hand out, hovering an inch from the man.

The blond looked up, red rimmed lavender eyes swimming with tears. The pain in them was agonizing. He kept his hand where it was, aching to touch him. Yoosung moved, kneeling and sitting back on his heels. He lowered his head as he rested his palms on the floor. Saeran retreated his hand back to give him room, fingers itching to settle on the mop of unruly strands.

“Yo...you don’t hate me?” Yoosung murmured quietly, his voice hoarse from so much strain. Saeran noticed stains on the front of the blond’s shirt and wondered how long he had been in this state.

“Never. I love you.” the red-head said soothingly. He dared to lay his hand on the man’s shoulder. He felt Yoosung tense up and made ready to lean away from him, but then he felt a shudder run through his body as his shoulders rounded inwards. Yoosung hugged himself and rocked back and forth, tears falling freely. Saeran wasted no time in wrapping him in his arms, whispering in his hair, rocking them both. The blond wept, his body vibrating, pain washing through him.

Saeran held him as they both sobbed. Sharing their individual pain and taking comfort from each other. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, the rocking slowing to a gentle sway. Yoosung wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt and lay his cheek against Saeran’s chest letting out a huge sigh. “Talk to me.” Saeran said, cajoling him to voice his fears. Hoping he had calmed enough to do so.

The blond buried his face in Saeran’s shirt but his tears appeared to have been spent. “I’m so ashamed.” his voice was muffled as he spoke against the red-head's shirt.

“Of what? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Saeran soothed, rubbing Yoosung’s back gently.

“I let her go. I... I helped Zen help her escape.” His voice sounded like he was on the verge of more tears but they didn’t fall.

“You didn’t know.” Saeran kissed the top of his head. “Something happened, tell me.”

Yoosung hesitated. He clutched at Saeran’s shirt. He shook his head but finally took a deep breath and the red-head waited to hear something that was sure to be painful.

“She called me.” he breathed in a rush, the words seeming to need to be evacuated quickly. Saeran tensed at the revelation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I heard her voice. All she said was my name and it made me nauseous!” Yoosung cried. “I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom. I don’t even know where it is now. I don’t care. I don’t want to touch it ever again. Oh God Saeran, I’m sorry!” he wrapped his arms around the older man. “I’m sick and disgusting, why would you want me? I admired her, loved her. Part of me still cares about her! How can you stand being with me when I’m such a monster?”

Saeran swallowed, closed his eyes, and tried to do the breathing exercises he’d been taught. Knowing that her voice had touched Yoosung’s ears made him almost as nauseous. He breathed in through his nose deeply and let it out through his mouth while tightening his arms around his boyfriend. The man he loved, who loved him. It wouldn’t do to lapse into his own episode and even though she had reached out to Yoosung, she could no longer touch him. He was free. Free of the pain, the fear, the brainwashing, the addiction she enfeebled him with. Free of the lies she fed him for years, that made him a true monster.

He made some shushing noises as he got himself under control, having Yoosung in his arms helped immensely.

“I know I sound crazy. The words come out of my mouth and I know they’re wrong but I can’t stop them. I feel like I’m losing my mind. It hurts. It hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before. So deep I don’t know if it will ever stop hurting.”

“You’re not crazy, you’re just in pain and I know what that feels like.” they held each other, Yoosung still weeping softly against him. He felt the tension in Yoosung’s body loosen up as the blond leaned heavily against him. “You’re not a monster, if you were you wouldn’t feel like this. She’s been a big part of your life, of course you still care about her.”

“But...”

“No, no buts. This isn’t about me, this is about you. Come on.” he stood and pulled Yoosung up with him. He led him gently to the unmade bed. Saeran sat and lay Yoosung’s head on his lap. The blond curled up and snuggled against his thigh. The red-head ran his fingers through Yoosung’s hair, letting the golden strands fall through his fingers.

“Tell me about her. Before all of this. Tell me about the girl you knew. The one that inspired you to be a better person.” he whispered. The ache in his heart was palpable. Talking about Rika hurt him, but not as much as he thought it would. The initial shock had already worn off and all he cared about was helping Yoosung.

He felt the man stir beneath his hands, shaking his head awkwardly.

“Tell me. I want to hear.” and he meant it. Every word. He wanted to know the woman Yoosung knew. Wanted to understand what it was about her that had captured a young man’s admiration and respect. It took a few more cajoling words and murmurs but Yoosung finally opened up. He told Saeran about a young, vibrant, kind woman, who helped others, who inspired more from a young man. Yoosung fell asleep mid-sentence as Saeran’s tears fell silently above him.

#my posts #Yooran #mysme-rbb #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #@koutone #best partner #spoilers #for AE #depression #angst #hurt/comfort

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kitty0boy · 3 years

Text

Uh ohhh, back again. So this time it’s, you guessed it, Marichat. I will write other love square fics in the future but for now I must feed my Marichat starved ass. As always, Adrien is 18, Marinette is 17, and this time, Chat pays Marinette a visit, while drunk. Nothing smutty just dumb Chat Noir. And I checked, the drinking age in France is actually 16 so this is very much legal. Enjoy!

—————————

Adrien was bored, so incredibly bored in his absolutely massive room. Despite having a rock wall, a piano, an arcade machine, a Foseball table, a wide screen television, a computer, and an entire wall full of CDs, Adrien was bored. He felt bad that he didn’t appreciate all he had, but the simple fact is that he would give all of it away in a heartbeat, and you know what? Maybe he should. There are thousands of kids in Paris that would kill to have a fraction of all he had. And he was rich anyways so he could just buy something else. He sighed and Plagg lazily rolled over on his desk. “Are you as bored as I am?” His Kwami asked. “Yup.” He replied. What to do what to do. “You know Plagg, I kind of feel like pissing off my father right now.” He said nonchalant. “Who are you and what have you done with Adrien?” Plagg teased, earning a giggle from his wielder. Over the years Plagg seemed to rub off on him. He was still a hundred times more responsible than Plagg but he wasn’t a stick in the mud when it came to rules. He wasn’t afraid to piss of Gabriel or disappoint him anymore, he didn’t spend much time with him anyways. “Well then,” Plagg said, floating up “let’s see what we can find.”

————-

Marinette had finally figured out a routine when it comes to being the guardian. The Kwamis were allowed out of the miracle box for two hours everyday. She would set up snacks, board games, arts and crafts and more to keep them entertained. In exchange, they would stay quiet so that people wouldn’t be worried for her, plus it helped to not have the Kwamis ripping her room to shreds. Their time out of the miracle box had just ended. She had already cleaned up the board games and brought the plates down stairs. She was about to change into her pjs when something poked through her window. It was a black glove. She squealed and tried to quickly pull her shirt back on before he could come in. “Chat Noir! What did I say about knocking?” She quickly stuffed the miracle box into her closet before approaching the window. He didn’t climb in right away though, instead he dangled from the window sill. She poked her head out and made eye contact with him.

“Look Marinette, now I’m the damsel I’m distress, waiting for my hero to save me.” He slurred his words a little which was odd. Playing along she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up through her window. Instead of standing and climbing through the window. He dragged himself in and slumped to the floor with his back against the carpet. “You know, you’re strong for a little person.” He giggled. “Ok kitty, get up.” He followed orders and stood, but he swayed slightly and laughed more when she held him steady. He reached up and, booped her. What? She knew he was a dork but he never usually acted like this. Then the faint scent of expensive wine hit her nose. “Chat are you drunk?” He crossed his arms infront of him. “No I’m not, I’m Chat Noir.” He laughed at his own dad joke. “Yeah ok, you’re drunk.” She sighed and rubbed her temple. “Just wait here a minute.”

She went downstairs and got a glass of water and some croissants for him to snack on. She opened the trap door, “Ok kitty, time for you to sober up.” She looked at him, still standing in the same place she had left him. What a goof.

“Come sit Chat, we can watch a movie while you eat.” He obeyed and collapsed dramatically onto the chaise lounge. “Can I get cuddles Marinette, your knight in shining armour is touch starved, only the cuddles of his *hic* purrincess can save him from this curse.” She giggled, “Ok, but after you eat first.” He sat bolt upright and seemed to regret that decision because he slumped and collapsed again. She laughed and he pouted, “Chat oh my god, you don’t have to rush, I’m not leaving.” He smiled clumsily, was it even possible to smile clumsily? He sat up in slow motion, no he actually tried to move in slow motion before slowly reaching out and grabbing a croissant. “Chat you’re going to kill me,” she laughed “you don’t have to move in slow motion, you can eat at a normal pace.” Somehow, he didn’t understand the concept of normal because he shoved the whole croissant into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. ‘How was that even possible?’ she thought, did he have power she didn’t know about? Like stretchy mouth or something? She stared at him dumbly as he inhaled another croissant. “Ok kitty, this time we’re going to take bites.” She picked up a croissant and took a bite out of it, “Like this see, bites.” It was like teaching a toddler, she had done it in the past but said toddler wasn’t drunk and 6 feet tall. Chat didn’t grab the last croissant on the plate, instead he took a regular sized bite of the croissant in Marinette’s hand, chewed and swallowed. She laughed again, he was such a dork. She decided that it would just be easier to let him eat the croissant like that so she fed him the rest and adjusted her computer on the desk so it was facing them. She handed Chat the remote. “Ok kitty, you pick what movie you wanna watch and I’ll be right back ok? Don’t go anywhere.” He gave a toothy grin before sliding to the ground and sitting against the chaise lounge. She sighed smiling and walked towards her bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

When she walked back in, Chat wasn’t scrolling through movie options or even sitting up right. He was lying, on the ground starring blankly at her ceiling with the song “Despacito” playing from his baton. She walked over to him and kneeled by his face, “Chat Noir what are you do-?” He placed a finger on her lips and slurred out a “Shhhhh.” Before a tear rolled down his cheek, she looked at him, mixed between trying not to laugh and concerned. “I’m in my feels princess.” He said before deeply inhaling. “DESPACI-“ her hand slapped over his mouth before she rested her head on his chest and wheezed out a laugh. “Chat oh my fucking god.” She said between giggles “You have to keep quiet, my parents would kill me if they found out you were here, and drunk no less.” He reached up and put his hand on top of her hand that was currently silencing him, instead of pulling it off, he kissed it and smiled at her. Her face turned beet red as she stared at him. That is until he licked her hand. She pulled her hand away and wiped it on her shirt. “Chat!” She exclaimed, he brought his hands behind his head and smirked at her, “Who’s the loud one now little lady?” She blushed again, if it wasn’t for the fact that he just licked her, she might have stammered too. Instead she just shook her head, “Come on Chat, let’s watch a movie.” His eyes lit up and he stood, jumping up and down, “Do I get cuddles now?” His tail swished behind him. Was he a dog or a cat? She laughed and agreed before the pair settled on the chaise.

————————

The sun was beaming on his face when he woke up. He was surprised he didn’t have a headache. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw, was pink. Lots and lots of pink. His eyes shot open and looked around before landing on a mop of Raven hair. Marinette was cuddled up to him, her arms encircling his torso while her head rested on one half of his chest, one of her legs crossed over his. ‘Oh no, oh shit shit shit.’ He gulped before slowly moving his hand down her back, oh thank god, she had clothes on. He smiled down at her and soon, she blinked up at him. “Good morning Marinette.” He said, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Ah so you’re sober I see, don’t worry, nothing happened.” She said reassuringly. He ran a hand down his face, a gloves hand. Ah so he came here as Chat Noir. “Do you remember anything?” He shook his head and she filled him in. “Well I’m glad I didn’t do anything stupid.” He laughed, “Nope it was more like babysitting an overgrown toddler.” She laughed, he smiled. “I’m surprised you don’t have a headache.” She said, “It’s probably the suit, it will probably get worse when I take to suit off.” He made to leave but Marinette held him down. “Nope, I had to babysit you all night, I request cuddles as payment.” He sighed before rolling onto his side and nuzzling his face into her neck. “Fine by me purrincess.”

He was right, his head nearly split open from the hangover, but it was all worth it.

—————————————

Thanks for reading!

#marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb fanfic #marichat fanfic

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

Text

Is it possible that you write a fic where Robbe is feeling a bit frustrated as Sander found new friends at school, and he spends a lot more times with them now, maybe too much as he starts getting late at some of their dates? Bonus point if one of his friends doesn't like robbe that much and Robbe knows it?

Part 1 - hint of dirty talking, but it’s really a hint, if you blink you might miss it

It’s been five days. Yeah, Robbe is actually doing a countdown. He doesn’t really have to, based on the number of times he checks his phone to see the day and the amount of time he goes to Sander’s Instagram or their conversation.

He’s been trying to be patient and understands he brought this upon himself, but it doesn’t make it less painful. The cold shoulder behavior he’s been receiving for the past...well, five days. Robbe is ignoring all of it, still texting Sander all day long like he would if they were talking.

to Sander: I think I got a good grade on today’s test. I hope I did, don’t feel like studying anymore.

Hope you’re having fun <3 I miss you

You would laugh at me if you were seeing this. I tried making that pasta you taught me. I mean...it’s eatable so that’s good?

My mom said it’s delicious and for me to thank you for teaching the recipe. But she’s my mom so I can’t take her word for it, I think it turned out okay

He stares at his screen, bitting the corner of his bottom lip, his arms a little tired from being up in the air, holding his phone for so long, rereading the messages he sent today. He types the last one for the night.

to Sander: I’m going to bed now, wishing you were with me. I love you <3

And he puts his phone on airplane mode, checking his alarm for the next morning before putting his phone down on the nightstand, far away enough that he can’t reach easily if he decides to text Sander in the middle of the night, asking to talk just to be ignored one more time.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, starting to worry the second he puts his head on his pillow every night, overthinking everything he said, afraid his words were enough to make Sander change his mind and break up.

He has a few more tests, and some assignments to give to his teachers, but in every free minute that he has, Robbe is checking his phone, knowing what he’ll find: his messages with no answer. Sometimes Sander will at least read them, but he never answers properly. He likes Robbe’s messages or sends a few emojis that can have so many interpretations.

The school is his main focus during the weekdays, his only way to worry about something else other than his relationship, but he does everything automatically not needing to use much of his brain: wakes up, eats breakfast with his mom, goes to school, does whatever test he has, leaves his assignments, watches classes, gets on his bike and goes home.

He doesn’t feel like skating and spending his time with the boys these days. It’s stupid, but he gets even angrier if he remembers what Sander said and his reaction. So he decides to leave Aaron, Moyo, and Jens be for now.

Robbe moves to his side under the sheets, opening Instagram again. It’s Friday night, finally, and Jens insisted on him to go with them to this new bar close to his place, but Robbe was tired after so many tests and he wanted to be alone. Or with Sander, but that he couldn’t do.

Sander posted a piece of art earlier and tagged some of his friends in it. Robbe opens every one of the links in hopes to find a story or a picture with his boyfriend in it. He leaves the worst one for last. And of course, that’s where he finds something.

Adi posted a bunch of videos during the whole afternoon. Robbe rewatches them more times than he should, just to hear his boyfriend’s voice or to see his blurry smile when Adi films him looking at some art, his favorite camera under his arm and around his neck, laughing over his shoulder to look at Adi when he’s making fun of how Sander would rather look at more art in their free time instead of going out for some drinks.

Robbe didn’t know Sander’s friends were going and he can’t stop himself from wondering why they could go and that wasn’t even offered to him. He stops before he can start disliking Adi even more for no reason other than the boy is not his fan either. He opens the stories again and tries to take a screenshot of Sander’s smile, his messy hair that’s needing a haircut if Sander’s words are something to go by.

Robbe keeps his opinions to himself for four more days, trying not to let Adi get under his skin with all the stories, all about Sander. Or the pictures he posts of all of them at a bar late at night, smiling from ear to ear. He knows part of all these posts is to annoy him. That’s what Adi does, he doesn’t like Robbe and he’ll make sure to piss him off whenever he can. Showing off how Sander is having fun with him and the boys.

to Sander: ’m happy to s you and Adi aer having fun. Hope he wont maaAke you hate me:)

Robbe texts his boyfriend on the tenth night when he’s drunk after going out with the boys because they wouldn’t let him go home yet again. He’s struggling to change to go to bed, wishing he had warmer, stronger hands to help him with that. Robbe won’t get an answer and he’ll be hungover the next morning so he turns his phone off and passes out on his bed.

It feels like he blinked his eyes and when he opens, his mom is carefully putting a big bottle of water on his nightstand and leaving him be for a little longer. Robbe lifts his arm, feeling it so heavy and tired, but he manages to grab the bottle, turn to his side and drink half of it, hoping it’ll help.

He can’t put it back on the nightstand so he leaves the water on the floor and falls asleep again. Using his hand to cover his eyes, wanting to cry and call Sander to break things up already if that’s why he’s trying to do with this stupid silence.

His phone lightens the room suddenly and Robbe opens his eyes, trying to understand where the light is coming from. He looks around himself, everything is exactly as messy as he left it so he puts his head down, staring at his phone until the light fades back to black. He stretches his phone and finds it, letting his arm fall back on the mattress with the phone. His eyes are fighting to close again, but Robbe presses his fingers on the sides of his phone to see what’s going on.

earthlingoddity tagged you in a photo

That’s unexpected, but Robbe clicks on the notification, rubbing his eyes with his other hand to wake up enough to see what he posted.

He clicks on Sander’s username, opening his feed to make sure he saw it right. A picture of him that Sander took and never showed him. He can post a picture of Robbe, but not reply to his messages.

It’s ridiculous how fast his half-asleep, deprived of touch body responds to the caption Sander wrote underneath the picture.

I keep my visions to myself

It's only me who wants to

Wrap around your dreams and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

Robbe lies on his back, reading the caption a few times. It’s not even that sexual, but it feels like it. He opens their conversation, still no new message from Sander so he closes it again, opening the camera. Looking at himself, the sheets falling closely around his legs, Robbe thinks about being stupid and reckless and desperate .

Maybe that will make Sander reply to him for once. Letting his rush of adrenaline take over, Robbe lifts the sheets, looking at the door to make sure it’s closed. He’s harder than he anticipated which is a little embarrassing considering that absolutely nothing happened, but fuck it. He takes the picture of his naked torso, his shirt rolling on his chest from him probably moving too much while asleep, his lean, way too skinny legs, and his grey underwear.

to Sander: you can’t write things like that

And he sends before he can think about it. It’s been a while since they did this. Exchanging photos, but Robbe waits, keeping his phone unlocked. Sander sees the photo right away, but there are no bubbles indicating an answer.

Robbe lets himself wait for five minutes. Sander liked the photo, but didn’t answer, didn’t send a text. Just like the universe is trying to send a clear message, when his phone hits 12:45, it turns black.

“Shit…” Robbe slams his phone against the mattress, hating himself for being so stupid and needy.

Sander really left him on read after that photo.

Robbe rushes out of his bedroom, clicking on the screen a bunch of times to make sure he’s completely out of battery. His mom doesn’t know his password either so he’s not risking her seeing what he just sent to Sander.

“Mom?” He finds her in the living room, soft music playing in the background, everything is off the floor so she can clean it.

“Yes?” She stops her dance party while mopping the floor, turning around to look at him.

“Can you do me a favor?” Robbe keeps pinching the inside of his cheek with his teeth, the embarrassment still filling his every thought like his mom can see in his face what he did five minutes ago.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I need you to keep my phone hostage for the next 24 hours.” He offers his phone to her, trying not to worry. It’s just 24 hours and Sander hasn’t replied to him in days, it’s not like he’ll miss much if he keeps his distance from his phone for a whole day. She frowns, but smiles softly, holding his phone carefully.

“Okay…” Robbe smiles at her, and she looks at the black screen, “Can I ask why?”

Robbe tilts his head, looking around, not knowing what to say, “I just have some important things to do for school and so I need to focus.”

She doesn’t believe him, keeps staring like she’s waiting for him to tell the truth, but he doesn’t want to and she doesn’t ask either, putting his phone inside her pocket.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, sweetie. If you need anything, just ask.” She says and he nods his head, thinking about making them lunch as a thank you, trying to keep his mind away from Sander and how unfair he's being.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

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exosmutfactory · 4 years

Text

Apart (Part 2 to Fallen)

Part 1

word count: 3158 (how tf!?!?)

Baekhyun feels uneasy the second he’s back inside the house; the air seems to be ten times colder without the warmth of your smile and the soft laughter of your daughter filling the air.

His fingers mindlessly trace over the patches of fabric you lovingly stitched into his coat after all the times he carelessly snagged holes in it from yanking it off of the hanger. He knows it’s selfish. Not properly sending you on your way to mask his own hurt at seeing you and your daughter venturing off on your adventures without him. Your world-stopping smile, pregnancy glow, and the two sets of heart softening doe eyes looking up at him too much for his tired form to bear. Too much for him to deal with his guilt without falling apart in front of you.

He hates it — hates how hard it is to be around you lately. Always feeling as if he is stepping on eggshells in fear of stressing you out. Your soft smiles and sweeter words whispered to the precious symbol of your love growing inside of you brings tears to his eyes that he has to hide every time you gaze up at him from across the living room when he steps through the door. You mean the world to him and he’d do anything for you. No matter how many long hours he spends cooped up alone at the office, or sleepless nights from attending to your daughter when she cries for him in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t change a single part of your lives — except for last night.

His heart aches at the thought; fists clenched and bile rising in his throat. Remembering the deceitful men urging him to take more drinks, and the woman he practically had to shove off his lap.

♡♡

Baekhyun’s heart beat is pounding furiously in his ears, the only thing stopping him from going into a blind rage is the thought of you waiting up for him at home. With your pretty doe eyes and worry-melting smiles. Just your presence alone can calm him down.

He steps over the threshold without a word, hanging up his cream colored coat as he’s struck with the reminder that he is two hours late again. The underlying implications of that puts him in an even sour mood. He’s so stressed out lately that just the thought of anything more than a cup of coffee makes him feel sick to his stomach, and even more ill at the fact that you’re probably thinking he doesn’t enjoy your meals anymore. Meals that you usually store away for later, yet tonight you are—

“How was work?” Your voice is soft, always understanding in wake of his more often than not pleasant moods. His heart flutters as he quietly moves over to the coffee maker, mindful to carefully brush off his shoes before stepping onto the newly mopped floor. You turn away from him and he frowns, guilt budding in his chest as you distract yourself with the dishes. He knows how hard it is for you to have to take care of things around the house while having a bun in the oven.

“The merger bailed.” He mumbles, taking a few minutes to remember what you asked him.

“No.” You gasp, spinning to him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “Why? You’ve been working on this collab for months-”

“They wanted us to travel with them.” Anger once again fills his veins while recalling how disrespectfully those bastards spoke of you; a bitter smile forming on his lips. “Apparently a 7 months preganant wife doesn’t make the cut.” Fuckers. The lot of them.

“Y-You can go, I mean.” Your stuttering breaks him from his revengeful thoughts. Looking so small in his eyes with your hand over your adorable stomach and a plate of food balanced in your other hand. “I-I could let the baby spend the week at-”

What? “Where will they go?” Baekhyun panics. Why would you want your daughter to be away? Did he do something wrong? Are you—

The crashing of the plate to the floor startles him; hours of your hard work scattered like his barely contained emotions. “Where will they go?” He repeats softer, roughly carding his fingers through his ruffled hair. Did he startle you? He didn’t mean to. He’s just so—

Baekhyun raises a brow, swearing that he heard you say something in that cute way you like to utter things under your breath. His eyes widening at your state, hands outstretched to help you back up only to stop, a memory occurring to him. You screamed at him every time he attempted to help you pick up fallen food during the earlier months of your pregnancy. Proclaiming that you were ‘capable of doing it’ yourself while sternly pointing him towards the cupboard that you keep the cleaning supplies.

“I-I got work in the morning,” Baekhyun mumbles. The last thing he wants is to fight you. He doesn’t want to risk what regretful words he’d spew if he stays any longer; quickly going over to open the supply cupboard for you and setting the first-aid kit on the countertop just in case you accidentally prick yourself. He tentatively retrieves his coat from the rack, meekly uttering, “I’ll be at Chanyeol’s. Don’t wait up, okay?” While pulling the door closed behind him.

♡

Yeah, he’s still upset. Very upset. He’s been working on that stupid merger for 4 months. Hours upon hours spent worried over how he’s going to pay off student loans, provide for your growing family, and help your little stars through college. The weight of all the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he has resorted to shutting down and shoving his own feelings aside. He’s got a beautiful daughter, a beloved wife and another little one on the way. All of them are depending on him and he cannot under any circumstances afford to disappoint them. For what is the sun without it’s pretty planets circling around, leaning on it for stability and warmth? Nothing. But a big ball of pent up energy marching on its own journey to collapsing upon itself.

Suddenly, the sky is covered with dark clouds; the bottom dropping out from under the fluffy accumulations of rain. It’s pouring out; the heavy droplets pelting down on the roof remind him of all the times he went out his way to go pick you up in the middle of storms such as this one. Because it’s not safe for you to be driving out in the rain — driving out in the rain.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, ripping a new hole in his coat as he rushes to put it back on, throwing the front door open with half the mind to lock it behind him because you always chastise him over leaving the house vulnerable — but right now you’re fucking vulnerable!

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters, yanking the door to his black Audi open just as the squealing of car tires in the distance reaches his ears.

Baekhyun freezes, grip tight on the doorframe and hair matted to his forehead. Because just up the road is a car accident with what he swears is your car and it doesn’t look pretty.

“Oh my god.” A neighbor gasps, her leashed puppy cradled in her frozen grasp.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop to think; he fucking runs.

An ambulance is already weaving through the crowd as idiomatic bystanders block their way to the flipped over white Honda surrounded by broken glass on the sidewalk. The shrill screams of a frightened child — his child! — has him pushing his way through the crowd. Scrambling to the driver’s side of the car.

He wrenches the dented back car door open, tentatively brushing glass away from her tear streaked cheeks. Thanking every higher being that she only has small scratches on her little face. He scoops her out of the ruined carseat and cradles her to his chest, trying to soothe her as paramedics rush over to pull you from the car. Fuck. You —

Baekhyun’s head snaps up, wordlessly hurrying over to them on quick feet while they pull your unconscious form from under layers of broken metal and glass. A glance alone shows that you weren’t so lucky to leave the accident with only a few scratches on your face. No, there’s large pieces of glass distorting your delicate skin and a waterfall of red washing away in the rain.

Baekhyun barely hears a word that the person next to him is saying, only catching the phrases “child” and “hospital” before snapping out of his trace. “W-Wait!” He walks as fast as he can with your shaking daughter in his arms, “I’m the husband, I—” He chokes, eyes stinging with the realization of what is unfolding in front of him. Your limp body being lifted into the back of the ambulance. “I’m her husband.”

The paramedics usher him inside, offering a seat and asking to check up on the trembling toddler in his arms.

“How far along is she?” One of them asks, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck.

“7 m-months.” His voice comes out hoarse, a lump forming in his throat as he watches her slide it over your stomach. The lack of reaction from the little life inside of you makes more tears pool in the corners of his eyes. “I-Is the baby okay?”

She only gives him a solemn look, uttering some type of medical code to one of the other paramedics jotting down notes on a clipboard. “We’re almost at the hospital. Can I take a look at her?”

Baekhyun blinks through his blurry vision, reluctantly handing the small girl in his arms over to her. He shivers, just now feeling the coldness of his soaked clothes; swiping his drenched hair out of his eyes while graciously taking the thick blanket offered to him.

You couldn’t arrive at the hospital fast enough for him. He doesn’t know how much longer his heart can take seeing you like this — like a shattered irreplaceable vase missing the pieces to put it back together. Lifeless. Never to be the same again.

He barely registers the commotion as the paramedics roll you out of the ambulance and through the lobby, only stopping when a nurse holds him back from following you down the hall. “I’m sorry, Sir. You can’t go back there.”

“I—”

She swiftly shakes her head, standing her ground as he feels as if his whole world — his whole life is being flipped upside down. Less than an hour ago, your glowing figure was smiling up at him. Less than an hour ago, he thought that nothing else could get worse than the stress he faces every day. Yet here he is now, helplessly watching you and your daughter get taken further into the hospital — farther away from him. The man who vowed to be with you; in sickness and in health. In times of hardships and your greatest accomplishments. The same man who swore that no matter what came your way, you would face everything together—

Together…

Baekhyun plops himself down in an uncomfortable plastic chair; his head hanging low. How could he have forgotten such a thing? All the promises of sticking by your side through everything and anything. Of trust, leaning on each other — communication! When’s the last time he told you about his tiring days at work just to end up smiling by the end of the night while held in your loving arms? Or heard you complain about your feet hurting only for you to giggle soon afterward when he accidentally tickles you with his diligent massage? Or dared to reach across the body-shaped pillow that has taken up space in your bed to pull you to his chest. Did he really let himself get carried away by his own self doubts and fears?

Baekhyun’s breath hitches, his heart stopping in its tracks. Did he seriously hide himself away thinking the pain of being unable to reach him wouldn’t hurt you? Wouldn’t make you… You want to leave him?

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Surrounded by the endless amounts of people being rolled in the never-ending stream of patients in the hosiptal. It seems as if everyone has gotten into bad accidents today, but no amount of blood and body disfigurement can erase the horrific image of your helpless child — of your lifeless form being carried out of that battered car.

“Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun’s head shoots up to the light blue and white dressed man in front of him. “T-That’s me,” He croaks, throat hurting from holding back tears while hurrying to stand up.

“I’m Dr. Kim,” The man holds out his hand, introducing himself — uselessly, Baekhyun thinks.

“H-How are they?” He manages between shaky breaths, five seconds away from crumbling into a heap on the porcelain white floor.

“Your daughter and son are okay.” The doctor states calmly, flipping through papers on his clipboard.

Baekhyun breathes a small sigh of relief, heart calming down a little. “And my wife?” His tone hopeful; eyes pleading. The uncertain expression on the doctor’s face enough to knock the wind out of him, “Follow me.”

He trails after the man; right on his heels, gulping down the panic steadily rising in his chest as they turn the corner at the end of the long hallway. The doctor opens the door, wordlessly stepping aside to let him enter the crowded room. At least three nurses are stationed in the room. One fussing over a small bundle in their arms and another with his daughter outstretching her arms towards the bed on the right side of the room. The sight of you nearly sends him falling to his knees.

“Your son is 5 pounds,” The brunette softly says over the loud cries of your daughter. “He has to spend a few days in the NICU until we—”

“Give her here.” He demands, arms held out to take his daughter away from the blonde nurse struggling to hold her squirming form. She’s quick to hand the child over, watching enviously as the little girl settles in her father’s arms, loud wails simmering down into quiet whimpers.

Baekhyun slowly makes his way over to the bed, carefully lowering her down between the spaces free from all the tubes attached to your pale form. She wraps her arms around your bandaged arm, doe eyes still brimming with tears. He hates the panicked confusion swirling in her shiny orbs. Hates how lifeless you look against the standardized hospital sheets and the gauze wrapped around your head.

“She lost a lot of blood.” The doctor tentatively notes, dismissing the nurses from the room. The brunette sets the baby down in the bassinet next to the bed before departing as well. “And hit her head pretty hard on the dashboard… The baby had to be taken by C-section,” He adds, noticing Baekhyun’s eyes drifting over to the little one squirming in the bassinet. “We want to keep an eye on his vitals for a few days.”

“And my daughter?” Baekhyun mumbles, he can’t bear to raise his voice. Can’t bear the slow beeps of your heart rate echoing around the quiet room.

“Nothing but a few scratches.” He sees the doctor raise his hand from his peripheral as if to place it on his shoulder before reconsidering it, lowering it back down with a clear of his throat. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

Baekhyun barely acknowledges his words, shaky hands reaching out to cradle your ice cold one in his own. Unmerciful tears swarming his eyes. He doesn’t hold them back this time.

“I’m sorry.” He barely registers the pain of his knees hitting the tiled floor, head bowed as he folds in on himself, weeping so hard his shoulders quake from the built up emotions rolling through him by waves. Much more choppy than the ones that lapped at your bare feet dipped into the ocean all those years ago. At the edge of the world. Where nothing else mattered but your bright smile and your heart racing against his own.

“I-I’m sorr—” He chokes, hot tears flowing down his cold cheeks. Why did he pull away from you? Why did he have to go and hurt the sole person he would lay his own life down for? What if you never wake up? How will he explain to his daughter that her mother won’t be around anymore? That your son won’t know you at all anymore? You who were strong enough to stick by his side, filled to the brim with endless bounds of unconditional love despite how he treated you instead of the actions promised within your shared vows until you couldn’t — he made it so hard that you couldn’t anymore.

“I don’t deserve you.” He sniffles, voice cracking through his trembling lips. Hands clutching tightly onto your own. “I don’t deserve you at all, but please.” He can barely talk around the waterfall of tears pelting down his face, the sting of them worse than any downpour imaginable. “Please don’t leave me alone like this, baby. D-don’t.” He reaches up to cradle your cheek in his palm; the sound of his heart breaking nearly audible in wake of the healthy glow now gone from your face. “Open your eyes,” He breathes, fingers caressing your cheek. “Open your pretty eyes, baby. Tell me your love again,” He pleads, tears wetting the sheets and the fabric of your hospital gown. “Come back to me again.”

He drops his head again when you give no signs of hearing him; his hand slipping down helplessly back to your own grasping aimlessly at his — your hand!

Baekhyun nearly gets whiplash, eyes shooting up to meet your tired ones. The relief of seeing you looking back at him has him jumping to his feet, almost tangling himself up in the tubes attached to your body if not for your quiet warning reminding him. He settles for continuing to hold onto your hand, squeezing it softly as it slowly warms up the longer it is held within his, “You came back.” He whispers, astonishment clear in his hoarse voice.

“You came after me.” You utter right back, lifting your arm to let your daughter snuggle closer into your unbandaged side.

“Of course I did,” Baekhyun’s eyes flutter all over your person, heart leaping in so much joy he wonders if you can feel it racing between your intertwined hands. “I’d die for you.” He declares, words resonating through both your chests like the meaningful ones exchanged five long years ago.

“And I’d live for you.” You proclaim right back; smile bright and eyes lighting up at the small cries of your symbol of undying love.

#Baekhyun angst #I mispelled hospital THREE TIMES glad I read over it #bbh-net #let me go take a longggg break woo #Fallen

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smallerinfinities · 4 years

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Quarantine Day 26

a/n: in which Shawn gets a haircut

yeah...I couldn’t help myself. I watched so many youtube videos for this 😂

warnings: 2.6k of fluff and like a whisper, A HINT of smut

“That sounds nice…”

Shawn’s fingers paused against the vibrating strings. He leaned back against the couch toward your disembodied voice rounding the corner. You walked into the living room with a glass of red wine, your cheeks already fully flushed from the alcohol, wearing one of his Givenchy sweatshirts and a pair of little hot pink sleep shorts.

“Just working on something to record later,” he smiled, continuing his strumming and plucking, little head nods on heavy beats to mark the time. “I’ll send it to Teddy later...she misses the studio.”

He’d been shacked up with you for twenty-six days in your tiny apartment. When the stay-at-home order came down from the city, he’d rushed over, just an overnight bag full of clothes and his guitar case, not wanting to be alone and not wanting to be in chaos at his parents’ house. Aaliyah was doing remote school and whining about college applications everyday, he’d said, not a place he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time. Sometimes you thought it was a lie, seeing how easily he fit into your life. He belonged here with you. Especially when he’d come up behind you while you waited for your morning coffee to suck on that place behind your ear. It always ended up with the two of you back in bed for an hour longer than you should have been. It had happened again this morning. Thank God it was a holiday.

Now, he was stretched out on your L-shaped couch, the only luxury you’d allowed yourself when you moved out of your parents house. It was the dominant feature in the room, heavy and royal blue, one of those couches that you sank into when you sat down. His legs were propped up on the ottoman in front of him with his acoustic in his lap.

You sat down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest and using one as a makeshift coaster for your stemless wine glass. He stopped playing again and shifted closer to you, patting his lap for your legs. You smiled at him, stretching your legs out across his thighs, and let him rest his guitar on top. When he started plucking the strings again, you could feel the vibration of the sound against your skin.

He hummed random words and noises to the melody with his eyes closed, lost to creating but content to be here touching your skin. Your legs rubbed comfortingly against his own bare ones. He’d taken to just wearing t-shirts and boxers around the apartment, no need to get dressed if he wasn’t running to the grocery store or to the door to get the food delivery. You reached out and ran your fingers through his floppy curls, one of them getting caught in a tangle.

“Baby,” you said, causing him to strum slower, “you need a haircut.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, changing to a minor chord to amplify his woe, “it’s been bugging me for awhile but I don’t have anything to cut it with. Not even at home.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t had anyone but Anna touch his hair in five years.

“I can cut it.”

He stilled immediately, his eyes bugging a little as he loudly swallowed.

“I….I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” you swung your legs out from under the guitar excitedly. The instrument protested with discordant vibrations. “I have some clippers left from my last dumbass boyfriend who was obsessive about his stupid sideburns. I can watch a YouTube video. This could be fun!”

The reticence in his eyes was screaming at you, but you were on a mission now. You sprung up from the couch, half sprinting over to the closet in the hall to dig out the gray plastic box that held the clippers and all the attachments.

“See?!” You showed him the case, already turning on your heels toward the bathroom.

Shawn sighed again, knowing it was a lost cause now. At least my hair grows fast. He would probably be able to hide out for as long as it might take to grow back. He leaned his guitar against the couch cushions and pushed himself to stand, following you to the bathroom. When he got there, he had to swallow a chuckle.

“I’m trying to find some hair cutting scissors!” You yelled, digging underneath the sink, even though you were only a couple of feet away from him. He bit down on his fist, his shoulders shaking. You were bent over, hot pink shorts stretched over your gorgeous ass just tight enough to see the black lace hugging your curves, but the hood from his sweatshirt had come up over your head so you looked like a sexy burglar.

“Take your time,” he snorted.

“Shawn!” You whipped around, missing scissors gleaming in between your fingers, “so help me God, I will cut off your favorite curl if you laugh at me.”

“Okay, okay,” he straightened, gulping, “where do you want me?”

You grinned, “well, I always want you between my thighs, but for now can you grab a chair from the breakfast table?”

He nodded and disappeared back down the hall, his curls shaggy and swaying with his walk. You plugged in the clippers and set the scissors on top of the set of towels you’d pulled from the linen closet. Satisfied that everything you’d need was accounted for, including the overgrown mop you’d be cutting as Shawn returned with his chair, you pulled out your phone and opened up YouTube.

“Sit,” you said, pointing to the chair but not taking your eyes off your phone. You pulled up a quick video about cutting tools and how to use them, running through clipper sizing and how to blend. Simple enough.

“Okay, okay, this seems pretty easy,” you nodded, staring at Shawn’s reflection in the mirror. He looked….petrified. He was breathing shallow. His shoulders looked like they were glued to his ears. Your eyes widened and you leaned over him, “honey, are you okay?”

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out, it’s just hair,” he looked up at you like a lost puppy.

“I know you don’t want me to fuck it up, and I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay,” he exhaled in a rush, his shoulders relaxing down to their normal position. “Have you done this before? Like used clippers ever?”

“Once or twice,” you said, not inviting more questions on your qualifications. You didn’t want to tell him that you’d done this exactly once on your best friend in high school who wanted an “alternative” haircut when she came out to her parents. It looked basically like the picture afterward, think Hayley Williams but a lot shorter...and half buzzed. The 2000s were weird.

“Now take off your shirt,” you instructed, pointing the scissors at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he couldn’t help but smirk as he stripped his vintage Sting tee off. His skin was still just barely freckled from his Mexico holiday vacation. You traced them with the tips of your fingers until he shivered, moving your hands down, through the unkempt hair there and back up to squeeze his shoulders. He melted in your hands, dropping his chin to his chest and moaning.

“Good,” you said, “now turn and lean back.” Turning on the sink, you reached for a comb, “we’re doing this salon style.”

He did as you asked, dipping his head almost all the way under the faucet. You combed through it, making sure the whole mop was wet. He looked a little like a water spaniel wading through a lake. You grabbed his expensive shampoo that smelled like bergamot and patchouli and lathered it into his hair.

With everything going on in the world, outside, in their city, the act of washing his hair was soothing. Simple, task-oriented, clean. You understood why people did this for a living. Shawn let out a moan when your fingers dug deep into his scalp and your knees buckled a little. You washed out the suds and applied conditioner, turning off the sink to let it sink in.

“This is nice,” he whispered with his eyes closed like it was a secret. You wiggled your fingers above his face, letting little droplets fall, giggling when one fell on his nose. He scrunched his face up and let it fall down the side of his face.

“Did you know,” you said as you flipped the water back on to give him a final rinse, “that I’m very happy you decided to come quarantine with me? I would have gone insane.”

He opened his eyes and smiled one of those big Mendes toothy smiles, “I didn’t even really think about it. I just packed my bag.”

You grinned back at him, turning off the water and grabbing at a towel to dry his curls, but before you could get back to him he shook his head, sending a shower of man-smell infused water everywhere.

“SHAWN, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He doubled over laughing, catching the towel you launched at his head. He scrubbed vigorously at his hair while you toweled off, slipping off his sweatshirt and revealing the bralette you had on underneath. It barely concealed your nipples. If he was gonna distract you, he was gonna get distracted. When he out from under the towel his curls were frizzed out, sticking out from his head at all angles. His breath stopped on a quick inhale and his face immediately flushed.

“Honey, I,” he stuttered, “I can’t focus with you like that.”

“Oh, good thing I’m the one with the scissors around here,” you quipped, pushing him back in the chair and draping the damp towel over his shoulders.

You grabbed a random hair tie from the counter and parted out the top section of his hair, the part that would stay longer after you trimmed the back and sides. His eyes were closed again, probably to block out the anxiety of watching you in the mirror. You took a minute to say a little prayer. Please, God. Don’t let me fuck this up. The fucking fangirls will murder.

You flipped on the clippers.

His hair fell to the floor in little tufts, coloring the floor with dark clouds. You used the second longest setting, making sure he wasn’t losing the wave in his hair at any point. The reference picture in your head was from around the Seoul show last year. It was a good length. Curly all around but not too unkempt. It was your favorite hair.

You stopped about three-quarters of the way to the top section, switching to the longest setting to blend up to the top of his head. There was something to be said about hair just long enough to grab onto. You’d test it out later.

The top was going to need scissors. You flipped off the clippers, returning them to the case, and picked up the sharp shears. Shawn gulped again, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“I saw that,” you chided through the comb in your teeth. If you were being honest, it looked pretty good so far. No weird lawn mower tracks or weird chunks missing. The waves were still there. A whisper of labradoodle but not full on sheepdog. That was the goal. Nothing crazy.

You took his hair in inch wide sections from right to left, trimming about an inch off everywhere, a little more in the wilder areas. He reached up to run his fingers through it before you were finished.

“Hey!” You swatted his hand away, “let me finish before you check my work!”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and bobbing his knee up and down. Impatient bastard, you thought, snipping a few more curls. The only ones you didn’t really touch, maybe a quarter inch here and there, were the curls toward the front. The ones that dropped down into his face and across his forehead. You liked those, loved to push them back in the morning when he looked down at you, naked and pressed against his chest. You ruffled his damp hair to see how it might curl and retract.

“Shawn,” you leaned down to whisper in his ear, “you can look now.”

He slowly peeked with one eye, then with the other, his eyes growing wide when he saw it fully. He got up out of the chair to lean up to the mirror, inspecting and combing his fingers through it about fifty times. You grabbed some oil off the side of the sink and ran it through the top, letting it soak in and tame the frizz drying into the curls.

“So,” you needled, “do you like it or what?”

“I…” he rifled around in his toiletry bag, pulling out a little black box of hair paste, “I think I love it.” He smoothed some of the cream between his hands and fingered it through the ringlets. They snapped and bounced back on top of his head.

“Holy shit, thank God,” you exhaled in a rush, sitting on the lid of the toilet while your heart rate slowed.

He stopped and looked over, his big green-brown eyes asking questions.

“I mean, I wasn’t worried,” you backtracked, stopping when he lifted an eyebrow. You huffed. “Okay, I was a little worried...the fans...they’re vicious! And it’s your hair! You could probably trademark it for fuck’s sake!”

He tipped his head back and laughed loud and long, some stray cut hair falling from his neck to the floor.

“You know, I thought about halfway through that it’s good I look so sexy in backward baseball caps.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, obviously suppressing a laugh at his own bad joke. You got up and shoved him in the shoulder, crossing the hall to your bedroom. He followed closely behind.

“I don’t give a fuck what the fans think about my hair, you know that,” he leaned on the door frame and watched you dig for a dry shirt. You pulled out an oversized Maple Leafs tee and bent to throw it on.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he stopped you, catching at the shirt and letting it fall to the floor. “You gave me a haircut, so now it’s my turn to give you something.” He threaded his fingers with yours and led you to the edge of your bed, setting you down and stepping back.

“Now, do you like my hair?” he asked, kneeling in front of you, busying himself with untying your shorts. He mouthed at the inside of your thighs, pausing only to grip your shorts and panties in one hand and drag them down your legs. His lips returned to your skin, closer and closer to where you wanted him.

“Yes,” you moaned, widening your legs and combing your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Yes, what?” he smirked against your pubic bone. His hand slid up your belly and pushed up the barely-there bralette, pushing you back to lay against the rumpled sheets. He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue, not dipping inside until he got his answer.

“Yes! Oh, God,” you fisted the waves at the nape of his neck. Perfect. “Yes, I love your hair!”

“Good,” he reached up to kiss you just once before returning to his throne between your legs, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen, aching clit, “that’s all that matters.”

Words were lost to moans and shaking limbs and muffled curses. It turned out his hair was, in fact, just long enough to grab onto.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272 @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280 @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #quarantine fic #my writing

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bumbershots · 4 years

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California.

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her.

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked.

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

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