#slice vancouver

[yeehawpim]

Hey y'all! I'm gonna be tabling at 🍋SLICE Mini Mart🍋 on Saturday May. 11!

(1638 Venables St, Vancouver) (FREE ENTRY) (12-6pm)

Come say hi!🤠

[andtodustwereturnoncemore]

Oh i always miss everything, come on quinn!!

[rickchung]

Slice of Life (dir. Gavin Matts & Joey Lopez).

After being denied the renewal of their lease for their local art gallery, the three owners convince each other to throw one last party, only to be stopped by the landlord.

[starry-hughes]

nothing but love

quinn hughes x reader

warnings: pining for one another, mention of alcohol (i think?), and alludes to sex (literally for one line)

summary: the four times quinn wanted to kiss you and the one time he did.

navigation

1 - The Bar, May 3, 2022

Quinn’s first time wanting to kiss you came early in your friendship. He had been forcing himself out of his shell, making himself attend events and go to bars with his teammates, longing for that sense of normality in Vancouver that he had back home. You weren’t exactly looking for anyone, although all your friends who had boyfriends and girlfriends just assumed you were looking for someone. They’d make comments that the relationship didn’t need to be serious, it could be a hookup or even a friends-with-benefits type of situation. You didn’t need any of that, hell you didn’t even want a relationship. 

Someone nudged Quinn as you approached the bar next to them. Brock Boeser who was determined to be Quinn’s wingman. “Dude no,” Quinn hissed quietly to Brock but it was too late. Your head had been turned, Quinn had only seen the backside of you until this moment. Brock leaned over in front of Quinn, tapping your arm that rested on the bar. 

Quinn didn’t believe in love at first sight until this moment. 

Your head turned and you saw the two hockey players sitting there. “Hi, I’m Brock,” he flashed a smile at you that typically made all the girls swoon, “My buddy Quinn here wanted to talk to you.” Brock patted Quinn on his back harder than you would ever realize. “Hi,” you smiled at Quinn, trying not to be hurt by the uninterest from Quinn. Brock was suddenly excusing himself and you absorbed his seat. 

“Did you really want to talk to me, or was that your friend trying to set you up?” You blurted aloud. Quinn chuckled, “Are you that good at guessing these types of things?” 

“I overheard him whispering to you. For a bar, the music is not loud at all.”

Quinn let out another chuckle. “I’m (Y/N).” For the shortest second, Quinn’s eyes flicked down to your lips and he wanted to kiss you right then and there. “Can I buy you a drink (Y/N)?” 

You nodded, “On one condition. I need you to know I’m not really looking for anything right now, I don’t know what I want in life. So, agree to just being friends?” 

“Agree.” He still wanted to kiss you.

2 - The Pizzeria, December 16, 2022

Quinn was in between games and you were feeling the loneliness of being single during the holidays. You tried to remind yourself that you weren’t looking for a relationship at this time. You had grown close to Quinn over the months you had known him. It was hard to keep up with him sometimes, he was traveling everywhere and sometimes you wouldn’t know where he was until you saw the game on TV. Not to mention, he disappeared over the off-season. 

He was home for a couple of home games when you texted him, asking if he was in town and if he wanted to get pizza. He was exhausted and knew he was playing against the Jets in less than twenty-four hours. Nonetheless, he was meeting you downtown. 

Quinn and you probably sat there for hours. Talking about random things and eating pizza was nice. Since he was gone over the summer and dealing with the Canucks, he didn’t really have a chance to see and hang out with you. 

You were there, sitting across with him, pizza in your hands and Quinn was just looking at you. He wanted to kiss you again. “What?” you laughed nervously, unsure as to why Quinn was looking at you. He shook his head, snapping himself out of the small trance he was stuck in. “Nothing, just thinking.” 

You shrugged and went back to eating your slice of pizza. Quinn needed to stop thinking about you in this way. You had made it clear back when you first met that this was strictly a friendship. You weren’t looking for something at this time and he wanted to respect that but that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss you.  

3 - New Year's Eve/New Year's Day - December 31, 2022, & January 1, 2023

Brock Boeser threw an impressive New Year’s Eve party. The team had returned from Calgary hours ago and now his house was decorated in cheap gold and silver decorations to ring in the new year. You weren’t sure when you got the random headband that read “Happy New Year!” but Brock was wearing the matching 2023 paper glasses. 

Elias had a party blower in his mouth, being obnoxious as the team was no longer focused on the loss to Calgary a little bit ago. Quinn wasn’t a huge drinker but he had a beer in his hand. You were talking Thatcher when Brock loudly exclaimed that there were two minutes to midnight. 

Most of the house emptied but you glanced around for Quinn. “Hi,” you smiled as you approached him. He was already taking off his jacket, draping it over your shoulder as you wore a gold dress to the party. “It’s cold outside,” he explained himself. 

The two of you were left alone in the house for a brief second before someone shouted to come outside. “Sorry that you guys lost,” you said. Quinn shrugged, “We can leave that in 2022.” Quinn let you walk outside first, following behind you. Brock’s backyard was full of people as everyone was suddenly chilly in the brisk air but vibrating with excitement for the new year. 

“One minute!” Someone shouted. 

“You look good tonight,” Quinn mumbled but you couldn’t hear him over everyone counting loudly. “What was that?” you asked. “Oh, never mind," Quinn's face flushed red.

You were there, standing next to him as everyone began counting down from ten. He wanted to kiss you. Fulfill the tradition of a New Year's kiss when the clock struck midnight. Five seconds but Quinn was still debating. He wanted to kiss you so bad. Three seconds and someone was getting ready to light the fireworks. 

“Happy New Year!” Everyone shouted. Fireworks were set off for everyone but you and Quinn. No kiss to set off fireworks between you two. “Happy New Year Quinn,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek. It would have to do for now. 

4 - Rogers Arena, January 27, 2023

Your phone had Quinn’s directions on it as you walked through the arena. He told you what signs to follow, who to talk to, and exactly how to get to him without looking like a fan. You didn’t have a jersey of his until right before the game. You were there to support him, you had to wear a jersey with his name on it. 

The paint on the wall was suddenly interesting as you waited for Quinn. Trainers and other staff members gave you odd looks as you waited. He had scored a goal in the first and assisted with another in the third. The Blue Jackets had been defeated. You heard Quinn before you saw him. He was talking to Elias and you became aware of the families of the players standing around you that hadn’t been there a second ago. 

He was showered, hair still wet, pleased with himself for the night. You had been pretty excited to see him, it was a thrilling game and the crowd was enthusiastic. The two of you made eye contact and he smiled, striding toward you. You met him halfway with a hug so strong you surprised him. 

“Hi,” Quinn laughed. “Nice game,” you commented, still hugging him. Quinn pulled away slightly and looked at you. It was taking all his strength not to kiss you right then and there. He didn’t care who was around him. He didn’t care about anything else besides finally getting to know what it felt like to kiss you. 

The air around the two of you seemed to freeze and you almost looked like you were going to kiss him. Time felt frozen. The sound of his teammates talking had faded away in a second and then all came flooding back. 

A hand on Quinn’s shoulder knocked him out of this point and time. You broke eye contact with Quinn and looked at Elias who had walked over. Elias was oblivious to what he had just broken up. “You coming out with us tonight?” Elias questioned you. “Yeah,” you swallowed hard, “of course.” 

+ 1 - He finally does it. 

Quinn was returning from the summer. He had spend his summer in Michiagan with his family but for some reason, he spent hours during the summer texting you. He was itching to see you and he wasn’t even dating you. 

He texted you and asked if you wanted to catch dinner the day he got back. He had a short time period between him coming back to Vancouver and the NHL Media Day in Vegas. He was here to drop off his suitcases and to have a meeting with the Canucks. 

You were ready for dinner and in the middle of getting your jacket on when Quinn called you. “Hello?” you answered. “I have to cancel I’m so sorry.” You frowned, feeling your heart drop. “I have this meeting with management and everyone I can’t miss.” 

You tried not to feel bad and tried to be understanding. “Okay.” 

Quinn sighed. He felt horrible. He wanted to see you, catch up with you, and finally act on the feelings he had been keeping to himself. “I’m really sorry.” Quinn went back to the meeting and even though it was an important meeting, he couldn’t get his mind off you. “Quinn? You ready to be the next captain?” someone asked as he was snapped back to the conversation. 

It was later that night. You had changed out of the cute outfit you had picked out for dinner. You hated to admit it, over a year ago you told Quinn Hughes that you weren’t looking for a relationship. And now, you were deeply in love with him. Not seeing him over the summer, only talking through text and short phone calls just made you lust more. 

Wearing pajamas, you walked to the front door after someone knocked loudly. You had left your tub of cookie dough on the counter to answer the door. You had thrown yourself a mini pity party after Quinn canceled dinner. You opened the door and Quinn was standing there, huffing and out of breath. “I had to take the stairs, someone let me in so I didn’t have to buzz you,” he huffed out. “Quinn what are you doing here?” 

He took a deep breath. “I think I fell in love with you when you sat next to me at the bar. I tried so hard to make myself not love you because that isn’t what you were looking for. I can’t do that anymore. I’m in love with you. I have nothing but love to give you.” 

You were speechless. You wanted to cry, jump into his arms, kiss him, all at the same time. “Kiss me Quinn.” 

“Thank god.” Quinn closed the gap between the two of you, hands cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. Every time he wanted to kiss you in the past were no longer on his mind, this was the only thing he wanted to cherish forever. You let him walk you backwards into your apartment and shut the door behind him. 

Quinn’s arm was wrapped around your body and your head resting on his chest. He didn’t want this day to end. He was on cloud nine. He would never get tired of you. The button up he was wearing when he arrived was on the floor along with his other clothes and your pajamas. “Why did you have to cancel dinner?” You finally asked. 

“Oh, they named me captain.”

[citruslullabies]

Hello my friend ☺️

Can you please do a Rich Dogday x Reader, where a random employee is flirting or trying to ask the reader out on a date but our lovely and friendly canine mascot gets jealous and clingy.

Note: Rich Dogday and the reader are together. Please take your time on making this and don’t forget to take breaks as well as eating snacks.

I love your fanfic work it’s very intriguing and amazing to read. I want to start writing some Poppy Playtime fics but I’m very anxious 😥.

I mainly write about MK 1 but I wanted to do something different. Never give up my friend. Greetings from Vancouver, Canada 🇨🇦 🥰.

Ahh! I'd love to read what you have to write! And hello from Indiana, the United States!

Trigger Warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: romantic

Requested by: lynn-w3st

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday (rich) x reader

Word count: 413

Passive Aggression

You and your husband Rich both worked at the Poppy’s Playco center. Rich was the mascot of Dogday, and you prepared snacks for the kids. You were on break and enjoying your own lunch, when all the sudden a coworker of yours walked up to you. It was a new hire, some dude that worked in the kitchen with you. He helped prepare meals while you prepared snacks. “Hm? Oh, hey. What's up Josh?” You asked softly while swallowing a bite of your sandwich.

Your coworker, Josh, sat down beside you and had a sheepish smile. He seemed to take notice of your ring but ignore it as he put an arm over your shoulder. “Heyyy.. so, I was just wondering.. would you like to go out sometime? We can go to the movies or something.” He cooed and had a large overly confident smile on his face. You seemed confused before awkwardly chuckling. “Uh.. sorry. But I'm married.” You responded, and before the man could continue persisting like it was clear he would do, your husband in his big dogday costume came over.

Rich walked over after hearing the conversation on his way to greet his spouse, and was not at all happy with it. He was fine with you, since you had respectfully told your co-worker that you were married, but he wasn't happy with Josh. The fluffy mascot carefully brushed Josh’s arm off of you and wrapped his own arms around you, taking the Dogday helmet off and kissing your forehead. “Hey, Angel.. What are you having for lunch today?” He cooed, asking while looking at the other man as if telling him to get the hint and back off. “Huh? Oh! I'm having a sandwich and some apple slices and carrots.” You answered happily, enjoying your husband's presence.

It took a few minutes, but it finally got through Josh’s thick skull to walk away. Of course sulking and huffing like a child being denied ice cream but still. Rich carefully peppered your head and face in kisses, rubbing your shoulder as he smiled. “That's good..” he hummed, finally having the pleasure of having his eyes on you and feeling his jealousy slowly wash away. He knew you were faithful, but it pissed him off when other people would ignore the ring on your finger or the ring on his.

You were his, and he was yours. He didn't understand why people seemed to lack the capacity to understand that.

Thank you for requesting!

[grapehyasynth]

💜 wilmon;

"This must be a mistake, I've always had this room to myself."

"This must be a mistake, I've always had this room to myself."

Wille knows it's the wrong thing to say as soon as it's out of his mouth, though to be fair, it's entirely truthful - for ten years he's flown into Toronto after spending Christmas with his family in Sweden, opting to take the long, luxurious train ride westward across Canada and back to what he considers his real life in Vancouver. He needs the time to shake off the holidays, and his parents, and the version of himself he becomes with them.

So he spends a ridiculous amount of money for a cozy cabin in Prestige Class, and he arrives early so that he can unpack all of his toiletries in his private washroom, and then he takes a coffee in the Panorama car for the first hour of the ride before he retires to his room to read. Which he'd been coming back to do now, except there's a man in his room. And this man has put his toiletries next to all of Wille's toiletries, and his shirts are hanging in the closet next to Wille's suit jackets, and he's sitting on the clean sheets of the bed, which - does that mean Wille is expected to sleep on the couch?

The stranger shrugs, his shoulders clad in a cozy green sweater rising almost to the lowest swoops of his curls. "Maybe they ran out of room this year."

Maybe they offered you a bargain rate, to cram one more person in, Wille thinks, because nothing about this man's scuffed shoes or worn suitcase suggests he could afford Prestige Class. This thought, thankfully, he has the foresight to keep to himself.

"If you're thinking about asking the conductor, don't bother," the man goes on. "I already did."

"I wasn't," Wille lies. "I'm Wilhelm, by the way. Wille." It's a peace offering, to mollify the man until he can find a conductor. Surely ten years of patronage should earn him a modicum of special privilege.

"Simon." Simon's gaze flicks between Wille's face, his shoes, the book in is hand. "Are you Swedish?"

"Uh, yeah. But I've lived in Canada for a decade now."

"Jag kommer också från Sverige," Simon says.

Great. As if sharing his cabin weren't already going to make relaxing difficult, now he'd have a constant reminder of Sweden and everything he's trying to leave behind before he gets home to Vancouver. "Cool," Wille answers in English.

Simon's expression barely changes, but the warmth is gone now, his face closed off and his smile less genuine. Wille fights a little shiver; he wonders what it's like to really get on this guy's bad side.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he announces. He hopes Simon will take the hint and excuse himself to the dining car, but Simon just nods and settles back on the pillows that Wille had been previously dreaming of falling asleep on tonight.

Wille has barely stepped under the hot water for a moment before the pleasurable hum of the train's wheels is sliced by a piercing scream from somewhere further down the Prestige Class train car.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Oh captain, my captain ☆—

request: Quinn telling Honey he’s captain

Who ever sent this in ILY!!! cause I've been dying to talk about them but no one ever wants to talk about them...

Au Masterlist!!

Honey and Quinn had barely seen each other since they arrived back in Vancouver, she understood, the offseason had been so relaxing and calm so the entrance back into the regular season meant that intense training would be starting up again.

Baby Warren babbled on his soft foam mat, drool all down his chest as his mum made his first bottle of the day. Her hips swayed along to the music playing on the radio, a grin on her lips as she finished brewing her second coffee of the morning. The music ended and the radio hosts started to ramble about the weather as she grabbed the year-old up off of the floor to put him in her high chair, a bottle in her hands and a little plate of sliced blueberries in her hand just in case he was still hungry.

The grin on Honey's face grew as she watched Quinn walk down the stairs in a dress shirt and pants, the collar undone as she fixed the cuffs of his sleeves. Her smirk doubled in size as he planted himself in front of her, a shy smile on his face as her hands ran over the soft fabric that covered his chest, landing on the buttons of his collar, doing them up for him. She stood on her tiptoes to place a messy open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, a shy smile appearing on his face as he abandoned the task at hand to grab her by the waist.

"You look so sexy, all dressed up," she grinned, he dipped down to place a slow kiss on her lips, both their cheeks a vibrant shade of red as she pulled away with furrowed brows, "Wait, why are you dressed up, I thought you were just training?" His lips formed a straight line, "I have a surprise," he grinned as her face softened, a look of wonder taking over her demeanour.

She fluffed up his hair, his thumbs running over the exposed skin of her torso, a grin taking form on his lips as he looked down to see her in her kinda revealing pyjamas shorts and an old Canuck shirt from his rookie year, the fabric of the neck stretched to expose her collarbone and shoulder. "Remember last weekend, when mom and dad came up to visit and the owners of the Canucks took us out to dinner?" she nodded and then let out a hiss of pain as Warren threw his bottle at the back of her legs, an apologetic look took place on her face as she grabbed their son from his high chair. "Sorry," she mumbled as Quinn took his son out of her arms and kissed his cheek, a giggle leaving Warren's mouth at the attention he was now receiving, "I do remember that though, it was nice."

Warren's hands gripped at his father's freshly styled hair, a laugh leaving Quinn's mouth as he wrangled his curls out of the baby's grip, "Q, I love you, but you're making me anxious," Honey said, her hand fixing his hair once again and then she positioned his gaze to look her in the eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, She motioned for him to spit it out, "Sorry, so we went to dinner and then later that night I got a call, and they asked me to be the captain, I was gonna-" she stopped his explanation and slammed her lips onto his. "Oh my god Q," she hugged him, placing kisses all over his face out of excitement.

"I don't even know what to say," She stopped kissing him and smiled at his shy grin. He looks at his smiley son and then back up at his wife, "I would've been okay with a 'congrats'" he shrugged. she shook her head at his stupid suggestion, "Dinner, maybe Brock can watch him, me and you dinner, with a nice dress," her eyebrows raised as Quinn nodded. "Or, we ask Brock to take him for the night, we order in, wine, no dress, no nothing, and-" he was cut off with a kiss as he chuckled into her excitement-fuelled kisses.

"Sounds perfect," she winked and snatched their son right out of his hands to feed him some blueberries, "You're gonna be late if you don't finish getting ready and get out the door," she motioned over to the clock on the stove, he kissed her one last time, and then placed a kiss to his son's cheek before he left to retrieve his suit jacket.

She smiled softly and placed Warren back into his high chair to give him the sliced blueberries, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as Quinn made his way to the door, "I'll be home early," he grinned and toed on his leather dress shoes, she turned to him nodding as he walked over one last time. she placed the plate away from her son, a grin on her face as her arms wrapped around his neck placing a slow kiss to his lips as he grinned into the long kiss.

"You're gonna be late," she mumbled against his mouth, as he pulled away. "I know, I know," he fixed the collar of his suit and his hair, a flustered smile on his face as he looked down to a blueberry-covered Warren who was waving him goodbye, "bye bud," he said wiping the mushed up fruit off of his son's cheek.

"Make us proud," she grinned, "Captain," the word sounded sultry rolling off of her tongue, Quinn grew flustered as he kissed her cheek and made a bee-line straight for the door.

Let's just say this is the night that Hayden is conceived...

-

-

-

[yeehawpim]

Hey y'all! I’m gonna be tabling at 🍋SLICE Mini Mart🍋 on Saturday July. 13!

(1638 Venables St, Vancouver) (FREE ENTRY) (12-6pm)

Come say hi! I've got a bunch of new goodies!🤠

[twohearts-hs]

Always & Forever One - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 2.3k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol & smoking. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

May 2012

Y/N was utterly and devotedly late. Never in her life had she been so late for a job. However, she came straight from the diner and believed she had a fifteen-minute turnaround but with traffic and Miranda being late to cover the rest of the night, she was utterly and terribly late.

Throwing her jeans and tee into the hamper, Y/N ran around the studio apartment looking for a black outfit for the catering event. That was the uniform – all black and it did not help that she was two weeks behind in laundry.

“Fuck it,” she whispered as she grabbed the black dress pants and a turtleneck. It stunk lightly of body odour and sweat, but with deodorant and perfume, no one would know.

Y/N threw the clothes on, grabbed her sneakers and ran out of the door before jumping on public transport.

She needed this job. It was the summer and between her summer classes and the two jobs, she was a busy girl. However, she had to maintain her grades to keep her scholarship and additionally, she had bills to pay. 

Y/N moved to Detroit three years ago to complete her degree in art history at the local university. It was a move she never expected as she was from a small town in Canada, however, she was a star field hockey player and had stellar grades. Universities were lining up for her to come to their institution. It was a choice between the local university on Vancouver Island, Michigan and Los Angeles.

The idea of being in a hot climate, tourism and above all a city filled with celebrities sounded dreadful. The idea of staying on the island off the coast of Vancouver in Canada did not sound as bad as she thought. She grew up in a small town, Ladysmith, the same town as Pamela Anderson was from. With a single mother, she grew up with surfing and the ocean. However, she wanted something different.

It was hard to leave her mother. Ree was all she knew since she remembered. It was just her and the surf shop downtown. Y/N loved that shop. It opened when she was three and she spent so much of her time in that small shop. It was her first job, her first paycheque and the first time she fell in love with the idea of surfing.

She was a fantastic surfer.

However, when the University of Michigan offered a full-fledged scholarship as long as she maintained her grades and she played on the field hockey team, she did not know what to do. The idea of being in the Midwest was scary. The idea of being away from the water was terrifying. The idea of being in the United States of America was intriguing. However, above all being away from her mother seemed ridiculous.

But she ended up in Detroit at eighteen.

Now, it’s been three years. She unfortunately, had to leave the field hockey team due to injury but she was able to maintain her scholarship. As long as she kept the grades.

Y/N needed to work though in order to pay her away in the city. Two jobs in the summer, one in the school semesters. She had the diner job since she was eighteen. Ted’s Diner downtown was her favourite place to be. Ted was amazing and as the owner he deeply cared for his workers. A sweetheart at heart, a recovering addict who believed in second chances and was always so kind. The whole team at Ted’s was a blessing her world. Miranda the single mom – reminded her of her mom -  who gave her a slice of pie every time she worked past midnight on the house as a thank you. Then there was Gavin, the chef who always made sure if she was ever interested in a night of rendezvous, he was there.

They understood that she was a student. An art history student to be exact. They gave her time to get assignments done at work while still paying her. It was a second home and she loved it.

The catering job was just for the nights. It was for the extra cash. She would dress in black and go to events where she would hold trays of expensive prosecco or finger foods for the rich. It was fine. She did not mind it.

However, she was extremely late.

“I am so sorry!” she yelled as she ran through the conference centre to the back. Pushing through the crowd, she made it to the back where she saw a very displeased manager.

“I am so sorry,” she began but as soon as she got the next words out, he stopped her.

“Never again,” Sean said as he held up a finger. “You’re forty-five minutes late. You look like shit, and you smell like grease. I expect something a little higher than this but obviously you have hit an ultimate low.”

“Just let me work and I promise I will make it up to you.”

Sean raised a brow and rolled his eyes.

“Last warning.”

Y/N gave him a curt nod before turning back to the kitchen and seeing her coworkers coming and going with their trays.

“You’re late,” she heard behind her before a jab to her back.

A yelp escaped Y/N as she turned to the voice. Meira, her best friend in Detroit was in front of her with a smirk.

“The diner,” was all Y/N said with a roll of her eyes. She placed her apron around her before grabbing a tray. “What event is this for?”

“PR for a sports team,” Meira hummed as she loaded her tray up.

“So, we are catering a bunch of athletes?” Y/N groaned. “Joy, joy,” with sarcasm. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she ran her fingers under her eyes to get rid of the mascara flakes.

“Indeed, we are,” Meira exclaimed.

Y/N walked out with a tray to the crowd of athletes, managers, perhaps musicians and more. It was a room of the rich and famous. Y/N began to make her rounds, letting people grab the drinks off her tray as she walked in circles. A smile was plastered on her face.

However, she could not even imagine how tired she was at the moment. She worked at eight a.m. that morning, did a twelve-hour shift that went over and now she was working for another four hours.

Who was this woman? A superwoman perhaps.

Marshall was standing beside Paul as someone in front of him talked about something he did not care for. A red bull was in hand as he nodded but let his eyes wander the crowd. He dreaded these events and he desired to leave.

Dressed in jeans, a tee, and a hoodie with a chain, most would say he did not put much mind into this event as others wore suits and ties. However, he was just here for the appearance for a couple of hours before he would dip.

It’s been thirty minutes and all he could imagine was going home and watching some terrible movie on the TV.

“I am going to bathroom,” he leaned over and whispered to Paul as he turned away.

Making his way down the hallway to the bathroom, he turned the corner and smashed into a body.

“Fuck!” he snapped.

Y/N watched in front of her as the whole tray of glass champagne flutes smashed on the floor. Hands up, she took a step back as the mess unravelled in front of her. Instantly, her face fell. She was utterly fucked.

Her eyes searched from the ground to the man who was the perpetrator of this event and instantly she let out a loud breath.

"You should watch where you are going,” Marshall stated with a roll of his eyes.

“Me?” Y/N cocked. “You’re the one who ran into me.”

"Well, maybe you should not be so short on corners.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she whispered as she sighed. “Obviously, you can do my job way better than me.”

Y/N did not need this. Not now, not ever but particularly not right now when she was already in deep shit. Now this happened. She was destined to lose her job.

Marshall saw her look down at the mess then up to her. She was pretty despite looking like she had seen better days but there was something about her attitude. She matched him which shocked him.

He nodded before biting his lip to find out what to say next. “I can’t do your job. Thanks for the offer though,” he commented.

/N sent him a clenched smile as she nodded. “Ok, well, you’re welcome.” She was about to turn around to get someone to help her clean it, but Sean appeared from the kitchen. His brow was raised, and he had his arms crossed.

“First you’re late and now you’ve smashed hundreds of dollars’ worth of drinks,” he said with sarcasm.

She let out a sigh as she tried to compose herself. Rubbing her hands against her thighs, she slowly turned to look at Sean.

“I am guessing I am fired,” she whispered, and all Sean did was roll his eyes.

“Obviously,” he stated before walking off.

Y/N glanced at the mess in front of her and the gentleman. He was older, a hat on his head and dressed down but she did not care at this moment. Instead, she removed her apron and as she was folding it.

“Did I just get you fired?” he asked.

Finally, he had the audacity to talk.

Y/N glanced at him and sighed. “No, I haven’t been the best worker so it’s not your fault.”

She was Canadian after all, and she mimicked that type of hospitality. Kindness and sympathy were all she believed in. However, now as she the man in front of her tried to show her a form of sympathy due to his own actions. She brushed it off.

“I have been seeing you working quite hard tonight so-“

“You do not have to be nice. I fucked up and honestly, yeah, you helped but I believe everything happens for a reason and obviously this job was not in my path,” she stated.

Marshall nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t fret it,” Y/N stated before walking off.

Meira came out with a concerned face. “I heard smashing,” she began.

"I need a smoke.”

Y/N sat on the curb outside, kicking her legs out as the cars drove by. She was on her second cigarette as she let her hair down. Meira appeared with a bottle of something.

“If you’re going to get fired, I may as well too. I stole this,” she hummed as she settled next to her.

Y/N chuckled as Meira handed the bottle of expensive champagne to her due to the fact she did not know how to pop one. After popping the bottle, Y/N brought the poison to her lips. Beautiful, smooth but bubbly and sweet with a hint of tang. Perfect for everything tonight.

“I needed that job,” she whispered to her friend.

“No, you didn’t. You like to have a healthy saving, but the diner pays your bills.”

Y/N groaned. “I have never been fired.”

“Girl, you were only working there for over three weeks. No offence but Sean was out to get you since the beginning.”

Y/N let out a loud frustrated groan. “If only that idiot did not smash into me, I would still have that job. Then he had the audacity to be rude.”

“You were rude back…”

“Yeah, but he smashed into me!” Y/N exclaimed. “I needed the money,” she said in a low voice, “really needed the money.”

“For?”

“Masters. I am one year from graduating and I have no money saved up for my masters.”

Meira nodded as Y/N brought the cigarette to her lips.

“You know those will kill you,” a voice said behind her. Recognisable, deep and masculine but soft at the same time.

Y/N turned around and glanced at the mysterious man behind her. Him. The perpetrator. Rolling her eyes she brought the cigarette to her lips.

“I know, that’s the purpose,” she stated.

Marshall nodded, shoving his hands in his jeans before taking a step from the shadows. “Look, I just want to apologise and give you this,” he said coming closer to her. “I got you fired, and you need the money more than me.”

He placed his hand out and she spotted the cash roll in it. Y/N eyes widened. Hundred possibly thousands were in there, but she knew she could not take it. There is no way she was taking the money from a complete stranger.

The man nodded towards his hand.

“Thank you, but I cannot,” Y/N said.

“Hey, I am the idiot who smashed into you which cost you your job,” he tried to bargain with her.

“You heard?” she asked.

“Everything.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I have been in your position before.”

“So, its pity.”

“No respect.”

She nodded. “I cannot just take your money.”

“Look either it pays for a part of your degree, or it sits in my bank account.”

Y/N sighed. “I am not someone who you could just pay for forgiveness.”

“I am not asking for forgiveness.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

“For you take-“

“Donate it.”

Y/N could not believe this man. He was just waving money in front of her like it was nothing. He was admitting that he was rich and powerful, yet he dressed if he was about to pick up some groceries. She could not accept this kind of money.

“A tip for your service,” he tried again.

“Just sit and have a drink. Have a conversation and perhaps you may get respect out of me.”

Marshall placed the cash into his pocket before stepping down on the curb. He sat next to Y/N as she bummed her cigarette out and brought the champagne to her lips.

“Meira stole this from the kitchen if you want some,” Y/N suggested.

“I don’t drink.”

“Admirable,” she commented as traffic continued to move in front of her.

“I think by running into Y/N you just saved her from four months of misery,” Meira said.

Marshall chuckled. “I try my best, but I am sorry for acting like a dick though. Respect goes out to you for the job you do.”

Y/N grinned and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Y/N is your name?” he asked. She nodded. “Marshall,” he introduced.

“Marshall,” she hummed, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“What are you studying?”

“Art history and Meira is in biology-psychology. What are you doing at this event?”

“Fulfilling my role.”

“Important or something?” she hummed.

“Something like that,” he hummed.

She nodded as she finished the champagne and placed her cigarettes back in her pocket. It was nearing midnight, and she had an eight a.m. shift the next day at the diner. She looked at Marshall beside her and she could admit he was cute. He obviously was important in retrospect of sports, but he seemed to keep to himself. She did not want to bug him, but as she got up, she checked her phone.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“What?” Meira said.

“Fucking Sam,” Y/N said and that was all Meira needed to hear to nod. “I will deal with him tomorrow.”

Marshall got up as well and placed his hands into his pockets.

“I have to go,” Y/N said, “I am up at like six a.m. for work.” She looked at the Marshall and placed a hand in front of her. “Truce. No running into me again?” she joked.

He chuckled and placed a hand in front of himself too. “Deal.”

“Thanks for the whatever this was, Marshall. Enjoy the rest of the event,” she stated as she grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulders.

“I am going to go home. I hate these things.”

“Fair. I would too.”

He nodded as she began to turn away. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Marshall,” she said as she wrapped a arm around Meira and they walked down the street.

All Marshall could think was, ‘who was this woman?’ as she was something.

____________

Author's Note:

Thanks so much for reading!

As said in my previous post, there will be 20 chapters as this book is completed. It's over 103k words therefore, it will be posted.

Send me your thoughts, opinions, love and more! I am excited to be releasing this.

Much love,

Ava <3

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A Good Samaritan who was stabbed while coming to the aid of robbery victim last year in Vancouver has had $2,000 in medical bills waived.

Meraj Ahmed, an international student from Bangladesh, suffered a sliced tendon in his left hand when he stopped a thief, in the process of stealing a piece of computer equipment, during a Facebook Marketplace transaction in December.

Because he had not yet signed up for B.C.'s Medical Services Plan (MSP) at the time of the stabbing, Ahmed was initially charged for the surgery to mend his hand and the follow-up medical treatments.

But much to his relief, on Tuesday, Ahmed learned officials had backdated his MSP coverage to Dec. 1, 2023, effectively erasing the debt. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[officiallyossy-haywooddent]

August 29th.

This is a fanfic / open rp starter so it’s kinda long. The writing might not be great, sorry.

TW for child death, loss of a sibling, minor mentions of bad parenting, minor drug use, minor toxic relationship

Every year without fail the week of August 25 was maybe the worst week of Ossy’s life. Every year they’d go through the same calls, same arrangements, same people. It never changed, even if their life circumstances did. Every year they would end up with a crown of flowers and a box of Halloween candy, completely and utterly alone.

It had been the same when they were eight and had been flown home from camp to give their testimony to the police. It had been the same when they were twelve, reeling from the loss of their brother and best friend and so, so many others; lost and alone in the middle of New York.

It had gotten worse when Ossy was thirteen, their palm sliced open over a marble altar, clasped in the hand of their best friend somewhere in the wilderness of the Yukon. Being fifteen in Gotham would be no different.

—

August 25.

It began, the preparations; the prayers. They called Frank first. Ossy hadn’t talked to him in years when it had first happened, he’d left the island with his mother to live with his grandmother in Vancouver, and they’d drifted apart.

A three hours on the ferry was a long time to travel to see someone, it wasn’t like they’d been good friends. They’d been five and eight, quietly talking in the forest behind their school every couple of days. That was all, Ossy didn’t think they’d ever speak to him again.

Then came the second war. He was there; they weren’t. He stopped by the med bay, asked where they’d been. They answered. He’d talked with them for hours, but he would always have to leave.

Nevertheless Ossy picked up their phone, dialled his number. They let it ring, once, twice. They hung up. It wasn’t right to bother Frank nowadays, and he hadn’t really known her anyway. Most people hadn’t.

They ordered a bulk box of Halloween candy. It would arrive in two days. They wished it would never come.

—

August 26.

Ossy’d found a place that did rush flower arrangements. They ordered three flower crowns, one for them, two for her. The place they’d gotten it, Belle Flore, was this tiny shop in North Gotham that imported seeds from everywhere in the world and grew all the flowers in a grow room above the store. The clerk, a red-headed guy probably less than a year older than them named Rhys, had been nice about the whole thing, suggesting an arrangement of Pheasants Eye, Prince’s Feather, Baby’s Breath, and Buttercup.

The combination was odd but sweet, symbolic. Buttercup had been her favourite after all. The crowns would be done in three days, the 29th.

Ossy would pick it up in the morning, flowers were always better fresh.

They spend the rest of the day asleep. The tranqs they’d gotten from Peter were nice, though they’d had to ration them out. They’d told him 2 wasn’t gonna be enough.

-

August 27.

Ossy sleeps through the day. They don’t move, but it’s fine. They don’t need to. Sleep is quiet, calming. Hypnos must have taken pity of them, each dream is an altered memory of their life before everything, a kinder one.

-

August 28.

The phone rings five times before going to voicemail, their mums soft voice letting them know to leave a message and that she’d get to it in the morning. She wouldn’t, not when she saw the caller ID.

“Hey, mum. It’s me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’m..I’m doing something for the 29th. You can always join me, I’ll pay for your flight and everything.”

Ossy pauses, taking a shuddering breath. It’s been a while since they’ve cried properly.

“…I miss you. And Grandpa. I’m sorry..about everything.”

They hang up quickly, regretting every second of it. She’d just delete it when she saw it, she always did. They leave the message anyway.

The package with the candy arrives at the manor, nobody asks what’s in it. Ossy doesn’t know if anyone even noticed it arrive. They request the day off tomorrow from the Deli, Mr. Maroni approves it. He’s been nice since he found out about the mugging, probably thinks they’re still scared of doing the night shift. They are, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

The night roles around and they pop the second half of a tranq. They don’t know if they want to wake up in the morning, sleeping away the 29th doesn’t sound half bad. It would be mean though, she would never have done it. She didn’t sleep, it was genetic. The gene had skipped Ossy.

-

August 29.

At 5:30 AM they show up at Belle Flores, it’s the same clerk, Rhys. He quietly hands over a pastel blue box with a subdued smile. He knows what the crowns are for, they’d told him. It’s easier to talk to strangers about these things.

Ossy stops back at the manor, grabbing the cats before hopping on one of the busses. They need to get out of the city again. Sometimes Gotham, with its constant noise and soaring buildings, felt like a maze. This then made them the rat, trying to find its way out before getting zapped.

The concrete held an energy they could never quite get used too. Ossy missed the blue pine of the salmon and rain forests; trees so large and thick they muffled everything within their shade, where oceans crashed against the conifered cliffs of their piece of home. They’d stolen that line from John Vailant.

The bus pulled to a stop outside a rocky beach. The cats had been quiet for the ride, good travellers. Ossy realized she’d never gotten to meet them.

They set up camp on a fallen log near the tree line, setting up a fence so the cats could be let loose to roam. Two of the flower crowns were laid side by side, the third resting on their head. It was good work, better than either of them had ever been capable of.

Ossy sat there for a while, listening to old songs they had long forgotten the words to, taking two bowls and pouring them full of the candy. It was stale, but that didn’t really matter. Stel had always saved her Halloween candy until Easter. They ate quietly, watching the cats play fight.

Ossy wasn’t sure how long it took for them to break down but they’d like to think it was close to an hour, a respectable amount of time to hold vigil before they imploded.

It was stupid for them to think they’d escaped it, moved past it. Not her death, no, they could never get over that, but being alone each year.

Not even having a picture of the family together. It was starting to get to them. Ossy would never admit it but they were starting to forget her face. People had always said they’d looked similar. They could never believe it. Stel had been good, so much better than any of the rest of them. Ossy would never be sure how she came from a family like theirs. Truth be told, they weren’t even sure what they looked like anymore, but that had little to do with the comparisons.

Ossy pulled out their phone, dialling half the numbers in their phone before deleting each one. They didn’t want to feel the need to explain it all to anyone. Deanna had told them to stop over analyzing their emotions, it wasn’t actually a form of processing apparently.

Finally, they landed on someone they wouldn’t mind calling. The gnawing sensation in their gut growing ever stronger as the phone rang, the soft click of the receiver letting them know there wasn’t really a way back.

“Hey.”

[starkraivennemad]

Rise and Fall

“When did you first know you were falling for me?” Greg broke the comfortable silence during dinner one evening.

“I did not notice I was falling and cannot calculate the exact trajectory.” Mycroft quirked a brow at the unexpected question.

Greg stifled his smile at the very Mycroftian response.

“Truth be told, Gregory, I have never been one for the phrase falling in love.”

“How so?” Greg sat back curious for the response.

“People say they fall in love. But what is the definition of fall? To come or go down quickly from a high place, to let yourself come or go down to a lower position, to become less,  to lose value.” Mycroft put his fork down and sat back. “Falling is uncoordinated; a generally unconscious act. No one wants to fall.”

“That is true.” Greg gave a nod of agreement. “The body instinctively tries to reach out, to brace itself against it. Falling is not something we want to do in any other circumstance.” 

“Exactly. So why is it allowed in love?” Mycroft took a sip of water. “It’s much better to rise in it.”

“To rise?”

“Yes. Rise: to move upward, to become higher, to advance to a higher level, to become stronger,  to be or become better, to make the special effort.” Mycroft gave a slight apologetic wince realizing how he sounded and cleared his throat. “Do you remember there was a riot in Vancouver, Cananda after a sporting event - specifically the photo of the couple kissing on the ground?”

Greg nodded. “I remember, it was everywhere. There was chaos all around them, police in the near distance. Yet they were kissing.”

“Precisely. For all that was going on around them, in that moment it, was just about the two of them. It's him giving her comfort in the midst of madness, and it comforts him as well for her to accept it and return it. That was a moment of rising in love between two people who had no idea the moment was captured until it was shared across the globe.”

“I see…”

“Do you?”

“Falling in love is relatively easy…” Greg grinned at Mycroft’s immediate scoff, “I said relatively.”

“Fine…” Mycroft started to eat again. “Continue…”

“You’re say falling in love is… that easy B-. It required very little effort to pass the test. Now you have time for that Saturday Social with your C, B- and maybe even B+ friends. And if that is all that’s wanted – it’s good. But then the Honor Roll comes out and you’re secretly upset that your name is not on it because you know you could have done better. Rising in love is not being satisfied with that easy B-.”

“Rising in love is not easy. It takes work, compromise, and yes, some sacrifice.”  Mycroft expanded. “You’re willing to put in the work for it. Give up a couple, perhaps quite a few Socials. Some who call themselves friends will mock you. They may taunt you with all that they think you are missing, but you persevere. And when you do finally show up at a Social again, you do so with a hard-earned A, maybe even an A+ and your name on the Honor Roll.”

Greg reached out and grasped Mycroft’s hand, understanding there was more than a bit of the autobiographical in there.

Loving a man like Mycroft Holmes – Mycroft Holmes loving a man like him had not come easy for either.

And they would not have it any other way.

“Yes, rising in love is work, but the payoff is so worth the extra effort. But…” Greg gave Mycroft’s hand a teasing squeeze and winked, “…you didn’t exactly answer the question.”

Mycroft chuckled, returning the squeeze. “I cannot tell you when I began falling, because it’s not the falling - the travel to the destination if you will, that I noticed, but the sudden landing in realization that I arrived. However, once I got over the shock that I in fact had fallen, I can tell you exactly when I chose to rise in it…”

Mycroft surprised Greg with a date and time.

Then Greg surprised Mycroft with the place.

“How…?!”

It was one of the rare times Mycroft outwardly showed genuine surprise and Greg treasured it as he answered. “I made you laugh and somehow a peach slice from your dessert slipped from the fork to your lip and down your chin before you caught it. For the very first time I had the thought of how badly I wanted to kiss the juice of the peach from your lips. That I wanted to kiss – more than just – kiss you…” Greg blushed. “Then just before we were leaving, somebody’s kid was running in the aisle and caused the server to up end his tray. They cleaned it, but not well enough…”

“Dear god, I remember. The floor had a slick spot. I would have entirely fallen on my face if you had not caught me. Still, I nearly brought us both down, you… were so strong… You held fast and we were quickly righted. It made me realize you were strong in many other ways and the way you looked at me just then – I wanted you to look at me that way… always. I knew I wanted you.”

“I grabbed you because I wanted no harm to come to you, not even as something as simple and physically harmless as simple stumble. And the look you saw…?” Greg held Mycroft’s eyes intently to his knowingly looking at him that way, “You tripped… and that was the moment I realized I fell.”

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

Read on AO3

@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 4: Fall

[taste-your-silhouette]

Hello, dove! how are you? I saw the "if not for you" work you did and loved it! i dont know if you are taking requests or not, but i was wondering if you could do some hcs or a small imagine where Damiano has a younger sister (23), and she follows him everywhere bc she hasnt seen him in a while and wants to tell him about a boy she likes and how to confront said boy. But then he gets mad at her by accident from stress and then it gets pretty angsty and ends with fluffyness! TYSM! take care <3

Hi, cutie! I'm doing great, how about you? I loved to know you loved "If not for you!! Thanks for your request, your idea was awesome, and I had a blast writing this fic, I hope you enjoy it 💙

Apri la vela, dai, viaggia leggera

Words: ~2161 The same A/N: Please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. (y/d/n) your date's name. 

You had just arrived in Rome. After enduring 3 grueling years in Vancouver pursuing an extension course, you were finally back home, near your beloved family. Those 3 years would have been insufferable if it weren't for one extraordinary individual.

(y/d/n) and you crossed paths at the beginning of the course. During the first year, you were simply pals. You were still recovering from a platonic love, and although taking the course offered a great escape, it could be downright challenging at times. You longed for home constantly, especially for your brother Damiano. He was your favorite human being, your superhero, and being apart from him for these 3 years was incredibly tough. Not being able to chat with him before bedtime and share your daily experiences was difficult. With the remarkable success of Måneskin, you adore the band and words can't express how proud you are of Damiano, Vic, Ethan, and Thomas. Yet, there remains a twinge of sadness, knowing that your brother is not by your side to offer advice and fulfill his role as the older sibling.

As Damiano's schedule was hectic, and communication was challenging due to the tour and its finals, your parents played a vital role in ensuring your homecoming was flawless. With Damiano's return too, everything would be as if it were an ordinary day until you arrived back home.

I'm at the front entrance, could you kindly open it for me? You sent a text to your mom, and within moments, she and your dad were beaming with joy that you had arrived.

After numerous hugs and a few tears, his parents called out to Damiano, who was upstairs, enticing him with the best trick in the book: using pizza as a lure.

"Finally, I was famished," Damiano grumbled as he descended the stairs. And when you came into his line of sight of him, he let out a scream followed by an expletive.

He dashed towards you and scooped you up in a bear hug.

"How? When did you get here?" he inquired, stepping back slightly to get a better look at you. "Look at you, all grown up!" He embraced you tightly once again, holding on a little longer this time.

After Damiano, his parents, and you shared more hugs and the atmosphere settled, the four of you gathered around the table to indulge in the pizzas that had conveniently arrived just moments before you. As you enjoyed the meal, you caught up on various topics, skillfully avoiding the secret you had been keeping from Damiano.

"Damiano, how long are you planning to stay at home?" you inquired.

"I have this whole week off, but on Friday, we're flying to Barcelona. The tour is in Europe now," he replied, helping himself to another slice of pizza.

"Hmm, that sounds cool. Can I join you?"

He glanced at you suspiciously, trying to gauge whether you wanted to come along to simply enjoy the show or if there was something more to it. Eventually, he gave in to the idea of spending more time with you, making up for the three years apart and his absence.

//

The days until Friday flew by, and you had a great time with your family and made some new friends. Even Vic, Ethan, and Thomas came over to your place to throw a small, wild homecoming party.

On Friday, Damiano woke you up with a scream.

"Rise and shine! If you want to keep up with the pace around here, you'll need to get up before the sun," he shouted, bursting into laughter and tossing a teddy bear at you.

You despised waking up early. Why not just tell him about (y/d/n) and go back to sleep?

Ahhh, the temptation is strong, but NO!

You gather the essence of your love for (y/d/n). Take a refreshing shower and grab the bags you packed for a few days away.

Throughout these days, you and Damiano had incredible moments together. You played tons of video games, he took you on a shopping spree where you got a whole new wardrobe, you binge-watched the Harry Potter movies, and finally finished Game of Thrones (a series you started watching three years ago but didn't complete due to the events that unfolded in your lives). You cherished the shared experiences and wished for a chance to update Damiano about your journey with (y/d/n) over the past three years. You were certain Damiano would adore (y/d/n), but you also anticipated his reaction when he discovered you were dating someone, especially someone living in a different country.

You're at the airport, patiently waiting for the Barcelona flight to board. Meanwhile, Damiano is peacefully snoring on your shoulder while you're texting with (y/d/n). It's becoming increasingly challenging to find the right moment to tell Damiano about your relationship with (y/d/n). (y/d/n) is eagerly anticipating his reaction, and each day that passes without you revealing the truth feels like a strain on your connection. It weighs heavily on your heart, causing aching discomfort.

"Y/N, are you embarrassed by me or something? 'Cause I just don't get it..." This question has been lingering in your mind ever since your last phone call with (y/d/n)

on Wednesday morning.

Feeling frustrated with the whole situation, you put your phone aside and gaze ahead. Vic, who is sitting across from you, notices your distress and furrows her brow.

"Everything okay?" she asks, without the sound of her voice.

You simply shake your head and rest it against Damiano's head, closing your eyes.

//

When you arrive at the hotel where the five of you and the whole team will be staying, Vic informs the front desk that you and she will be sharing a room.

"No, she won't. She's my little sister, I've been away from her for 3 years, she's staying with me," Damiano argues.

"She can't stand being attached to you anymore, you're so annoying," Vic retorts.

Just as you were about to speak up, Vic stops you, grabbed your arm, and takes the room card.

"Next time, be quicker, dummy," she playfully taunts Damiano, laughing.

You both laughed as he playfully cursed at the two of you.

As you enter the room, you plop down on the bed and let out a sigh.

"Okay," Vic joins you, sitting next to you and looking at you, "spill the tea."

And that's exactly what you do.

//

"Y/N, you gotta tell to Damiano soon, I get that you might be scared of his reaction, but it's inevitable, you know? Carrying this secret around will only strain your relationship with (y/d/n) and fuck off Damiano, whether he likes it or not, you and (y/d/n) will live happily ever after," Vic advised, playfully running her fingers through your hair.

You chuckled and couldn't help but laugh at her candidness.

"Worst case scenario, I'm right here in your room," you responded, still giggling.

"Exactly! And we can hit up some awesome party too."

Both of you burst into laughter as you reminisced about the last wild party she and the boys threw to celebrate your homecoming.

"No way! So, I'm gonna go have a chat with Damiano."

You leave Vic by herself in the room and head to Damiano's room, but he's not there. So, as you make your way down to the hotel lounge, you call him, but he doesn't answer. Finally, you spot him at the hotel reception, near the exit.

"Hey, frate!" you shout at him, and he looks at you with an expression on his face that you couldn't decipher quickly enough, as it soon fades away.

You approach him, but before you can start talking, he interjects:

"What's up? Talk fast, I gotta sort some things out."

"Oh, nothing, I wanted to have a chat with you."

He's busy texting someone while you're trying to talk to him, but he glances up at you and responds:

"Can't right now, I'm heading out with Ethan, ciao."

Without another word, he turns his back on you and joins Ethan outside the hotel, and they leave without making much noise.

//

Hours passed quickly after you returned to the room frustrated for not being able to speak with Damiano. At least now you can talk to (y/d/n) who is trying to talk to Damiano about you guys but he's just too busy for that. That reason is better than having no reason to tell why you haven't talked to Damiano yet.

You're with Damiano in the dressing room, assisting him in getting dressed for the show. This would be the perfect moment to talk about (y/d/n) with him if he wasn't so annoyed. He's fed up with having to sing "Beggin" all the time when they have plenty of other songs they could perform, and he's griping about the in-ear headphones that are bothering his ear.

"You're tightening that ropes too much," he complains about the ropes you're fastening around his thigh.

"If I don't tighten it, your pants will come off during the show because it'll come undone," you retort.

"Like I've never gone pantless before. You're fucking squeezing me!" He screams the curse word, and you give up, leaving him alone in the dressing room.

You find Vic and Ethan making their way backstage, and you join them.

"I can't handle Damiano and his diva antics anymore," you roll your eyes.

Ethan and Vic burst into laughter, joining you in making fun of Damiano.

"Let him go pantless if he wants, he's into that," Ethan adds, concluding the joke as you reach backstage, where the sound of screaming fans grows louder.

This is the best part of tagging along to their shows—right before the performance, you can feel the anticipation and longing of so many fans. Damiano is fashionably late to the backstage scene, looking like a true rockstar.

He may be an idiot sometimes, but he's still your brother, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride in your heart for him.

As they make their way to the stage, Damiano catches your eye, winking and flashing you a smile, all set to rock the crowd.

When the gig wraps up and everyone changes their outfits, they suggest hitting up an Italian joint.

Damiano's annoyance has faded away, and the vibes are on point. The four of you are buzzing with energy, enjoying each other's company after an amazing performance. Yet, deep down, the knowledge that you're keeping something from Damiano and the fear that (y/d/n) might think you're ashamed of them is truly heart-wrenching.

"Y/N!" Damiano shouts your name. "Are you deaf? I've been calling you forever!"

"What's up? I was lost in thought, and you interrupted my flow," you grumble.

He casually drapes his arm over your shoulders as you stroll together. The restaurant is just up ahead, and little do you know, it's bustling with life and radiating vibrant energy. That's your destination.

"I've got a question for you, sis," Damiano murmurs in your ear. "Do you know that jerk?"

He points at some random dude near the restaurant, except it's not just any random dude—it's your special someone. IT'S (y/d/n) !!

"What the hell? How is this even possible?" you blurt out, not waiting for Damiano's response.

You sprint towards (y/d/n) and wrap him in a tight embrace.

"I've missed you," he whispers in your ear as you hold each other close.

"I’ve missed you so much! How did you...?" You're cut off by Damiano, who has caught up with the two of you.

"Y/N, you've got plenty of great qualities, but being discreet and cautious isn't one of them. I noticed you chatting with him all the damn time, and you never mentioned a relationship until things got messy and I got pissed off."

"He slid into my DMs on Instagram," (y/d/n) chimes in, his arms still wrapped around you. "It all happened so fast. He even bought me a plane ticket to come here."

Damiano nods in understanding and adds:

"Since you didn't spill the beans, Vic provided me with some juicy details, like his name and the fact that he's your boyfriend, isn't he? Don't underestimate my stalking skills. And I needed to know who treated you so damn well while I was out."

You can't help but burst into laughter. This all feels like a crazy dream!

"I thought you'd lose your shit when I told you," you admit.

Damiano raises an eyebrow and responds, "Yeah, I had a little freakout, but Mom and Dad talked some sense into me. It's all good. I just want you to be happy, Y/N."

You grinned and embraced Damiano tightly, giving him a big hug.

"You're the absolute coolest brother ever! Love you, bro!"

Damiano burst into a boisterous laugh, his signature trademark.

"Love you too! Now let's head inside and grab some grub. I'm starving, and I want to hear the whole story of you two."

[bitchinbarzal]

little slice of heaven | life with otis

summary; today of all days, they know he’s their little piece of heaven.

warnings; this talks about parental death, more specifically Brock’s dad, Duke. If that makes you uncomfortable please don’t read.

-

This year was a write off, you’d decided.

It was horrible from the off set and throughout. To go from last off season getting married and buying your first home to this one, spent by your father in law’s bedside. You’d spent the first half of the year facing issue after issue with your house build and receiving time after time, negative pregnancy tests.

You weren’t even in Minnesota when it happened. You were in Vancouver closing on your house sale, Brock told you he wanted to be at home in case.

He didn’t say anything on the phone, he just cried.

“I’m coming baby, just hold tight”

The day of the funeral was quiet, nobody spoke much and you didn’t blame them.

Getting back to the house where it was just family felt nice, everyone in there was grieving the same.

You’d been feeling off all day, dizzy and sick.

“How’re you feeling my love?” You mumble, kissing his shoulder and sitting down next to him.

“Numb I guess, Petey called”

“Yeah he asked me how you were, said he’s sorry he couldn’t come on time” you smile, holding his hand “Im sometimes worried he’s more of your wife than I am”

He chuckles, the first time you’d heard him laugh in a while.

“I Just… it doesn’t feel real that he’s not going to be here for things like my first cup? Our first child” he deflates and you can only run his hand soothingly

“I know baby, I’m so sorry”

“He should be here you know? I know we’ve been dealing with the negative tests and I’m so proud of you for your resilience. He was so happy for us and he won’t be here to see it when it’s finally a good result”

You couldn’t say anything, there was nothing to make that feel better.

Later that night, just before bed in the bathroom you were watching your face and looking for a towel. You pulled open the cupboards and a box fell out.

An unused pregnancy test lay at your feet. You looked at it and thought about when you’d last taken one. Deciding to just use it, the answer would be the same but a little bit of hope never hurt.

You’d used it, say it to the side and forgotten about it. Shutting off the lights and heading to bed.

Middle of the night, Milo had jumped onto the bed and woken Brock up so he decided to go to the bathroom while he was awake.

He saw it sitting there, confused he picked it up to throw it away before looking

pregnant

He dropped it, completely shocked. Forgetting the reason he was originally in the bathroom he walked back out to the bed and shook you awake.

You groaned “What? If the house isn’t burning leave me alone”

He smirked “You really thought you could get away with not telling me you’re pregnant?”

Your eyes shot open “I’m what?”

He looks equally as confused “You didn’t know? Who’s test is that?”

It dawned on you then “In the bathroom? Show me!”

He went in and emerged with it, you were now sitting up and grabbed it. Tears immediately filled your eyes “Oh my god”

You gave your husband a watery smile “We’re pregnant”

Brock engulfed you in a hug, peppering kisses all over your face “I love you, I love you! We’re having a baby, our baby!”

Laying there, staring out the window for the next few hours was bliss. His hand rested on your belly until you fell asleep.

When the sun began to rise and he could hear you snoring softly, his hand still hadn’t moved.

“Thanks, Dad” he mumbled, looking out of the window and towards the sun rising above the trees.

otis duke boeser

february 11th, 2023

He was early, but right on time.

Holding Otis as the Boeser’s filed into the room you smiled at the family fawning over him “Oh my he’s beautiful y/n”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“He picked some day to be born, eh?” Brock’s brother laughs.

“Yeah, Happy Birthday Duke and Happy Birthday Otis”

[renlyslittlerose]

So my estranged grandfather passed away in the wee morning hours today. Seventeen years and one day since my Canadian grandfather died - which is very odd.

He wasn't what I would say was a good grandfather, nor a good father. He wasn't even a very good man. I started distancing myself from him around 2016, and was fully out of his life by 2018. He was verbally and emotionally abusive, enjoyed toying with people and their emotions, used people for his own personal gain, gaslit like it was his fucking job, and was generally neglectful to his duties as a father and a grandfather - especially to my sister and I. I can count on one hand the times he actually remembered my birthday when I was a kid, but even those moments were probably prompted by my mum or his girlfriend or his ex-wife.

But he had his moments, and I think I should say a few words about him and who he was.

He was born in a town in Hungary in 1935, near Lake Balaton. He was the youngest of the children, his brothers old enough to serve during WWII. During the war he talked about how he and his friends would go out to the abandoned battlefields and collect ammunition from the German and Soviet tanks, pile them in cow pastures, and set them off to scare the cows and other livestock. He said once school resumed after the war, a lot of kids came into class with missing fingers or even missing hands. He was lucky in that the only injury he received during his dumbass-ery was slicing his ass open on a destroyed German tank.

After the war he remained in the area, growing up with minimal education and helping run the household (his eldest brother had committed suicide shortly after the war was over). But in 1956, Hungary had their failed revolution in a desperate attempt to kick out the Soviet occupation. My grandfather wasn't part of the fighting, but he had enough sense to listen to one of the elders in the village who said that if they wanted to get the fuck out of Hungary and past the Iron Curtain, now was their time to run.

So he fled to Austria with some of his friends. They stayed in a refugee camp where he tried to learn basic English, before Canada accepted Hungarian refugees in 1958. So, along with some friends he'd made in the camp, he got on a boat and had a miserable trip across the Atlantic to the harbour of Halifax (he said that he could barely eat the entire trip because he was so sea sick). From there, he was put on a train that went across Canada, and he could get off on at any stop and just... start a new life.

It was, of course, the dead of winter when he and his friends arrived. Canada during the winter isn't pleasant - doubly so when you've come from the relatively mild Hungarian countryside. But one of his friends had family in Vancouver, and so he suggested they stay on the train all the way to the West Coast. Satisfied with this idea, my Papa agreed.

Only he made it as far as my home city in Alberta. You see, my city has this funky weather phenomena called a 'chinook.' Chinooks are when warm winds from the Pacific flow into the area and rush down the mountains and across the prairies, causing an inversion of air that rapidly warms up the city for a few days. We can go from -20C degree temperatures one day, to +15C the next. So when my Papa arrived in my city it was warm. Deceptively so. Ignoring his friend's suggestion they just continue on to Vancouver, my Papa decided to get off and start his new life.

The next day the train rolled out, and with it the freezing cold temperatures returned.

Despite it all he remained where he was. Life as a Hungarian refugee was tough. He knew very little English, and wasn't sure how to navigate life in a city that had developed past his home town in Hungary. He told me a story about trying to figure out how an automatic door worked, as well as trying to ask a store clerk where the bars of soap were, only to be taken to the canned soup aisle.

But as he learned English and adapted to Canada, he decided to sign up for architectural classes. He eventually got good enough at the gig that he became an expert in concrete as a building material, and helped to build one of the more iconic buildings in my city that is shaped like a saddle (which, if you know, you know).

In 1961, he and some fellow Hungarians decided to go to a dance at the local German-Canadian club where he met my German grandmother. She'd just moved to Canada, and had made the unfortunate decision to dance with the handsome Hungarian lad in the corner. Few months later she realized she was pregnant with my mum, and they got married before she gave birth.

Their marriage wasn't a happy one. But regardless, my Grandma had two more children with him before filing for divorce.

Growing up my Papa was always this strange, nebulous figure in my life. My sister and I were the eldest of the grandchildren, so we had to deal with his fumbled attempts at trying to be a grandfather when it was clear he didn't care. My mum would take us over to his house where they would argue the whole time, while my sister and I sat in the basement watching Jesus Christ Superstar on repeat. Gifts for birthdays usually came in the form of money, but I can remember the few times he actually bought me something. One time, he took me to the circus which ended up terrifing me because of the loud noises and bright lights. But instead of yelling at me or mocking me, he took me out of the show and bought me a teddy bear to sooth me. It was light brown with a white belly, with a yellow ribbon as a tie. I cherished that thing for a long time.

When I was old enough to carry a conversation, and he realized that I had an interest in ancient history like he did, we started chatting more. For a time it was fine. But then I realized that he liked to poke and prod and jab - liked to make people uncomfortable because it made him laugh. I would say something about my studies, and he would retort with something completely bigoted just to see me get flustered. I'll admit that I put up with it longer than I should have. The final straw was when I told him what my Masters studies would be on - how ancient Greek ideals on masculinity and male same-sex relations influenced the early German Gay Rights movement. His response was 'Good - show the world how your grandmother's people are a bunch of homos.'

He didn't believe what he was saying. He wasn't homophobic - unless he knew he could make it hurt. Which is almost worse, in a way.

After that I distanced myself. I didn't go to any family events he would be present at, and if I was forced to go I wouldn't speak with him. The last time I saw him was a few years ago when he was giving out cheques from his estate, under the assumption that he only had a few years left. I was surprised that I was even included, but then I realized that once again it was someone else in his life that had made sure I was looked after. This time it was my aunt.

I think the last thing I said to him was 'take care' or something along those lines. An impersonal greeting, one made out of social obligation more than anything.

I'm not sad about his passing, but I do worry about those who are left behind. My mother claims she doesn't care, but I know she still has lingering feelings - how could she not, he was her father, after all. My aunts are grieving terribly for a person that I never got to meet. Not really. My cousins who had a better relationship with him for the most part, are probably feeling the loss. And my sister, bless her, is worried for everyone else. His death will leave a crater in the family - one last 'fuck you' to his children, whom he loved to see fight over his affections and attention.

He had a lot of bad qualities, but some good as well. He was determined, he was curious, and he loved to learn. He was brave in the sense of leaving everything he knew behind just for a shot at something better. He had a good sense of humour (when he wasn't being a jerk), and I think deep down he did love his family. Just maybe not as much as he loved himself.

Nyugodjék békében Sandor 💕

[blurredcolour]

"Heya, Kid" | Part One - Impetuous

"Heya, Kid" Masterlist

Summary: Austin comes 'home' to have dinner with his Canadian family before filming begins on his latest movie. As an extra with a small part in said film, you allow your frustration at Austin's inability to see you as a women lead you to some impetuous actions. Actions that have consequences.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Impetuous Reader, Mild Violence, Threats of Sexual Violence, Discussion of Consent, Tears, Cats, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only

Author's Note: I've taken a lot of liberties with describing the reader's family here. I've also made the reader Canadian - it's not that bad just extra u's, free healthcare, higher taxes, and less gun violence. I'm probably going to be posting Part Two tomorrow. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6234

You thought you were over it.

The crush that seized you the first time you laid eyes on a tan, blonde, barely eighteen-year-old Austin Butler in 2009. Yet here he was, standing in the foyer of your parent’s large heritage home in Vancouver, his looks refined with age, and you could barely breathe.

Exclamations at how long it has been and how handsome he is and how good it is to see him rang out in the crowded space and you could not help the smirk at the exasperated look your sister was shooting you from behind Austin.

“I’m here too, you guys!” She eventually cried and your mother finally stopped smothering Austin and pulled her into a hug too.

You turned to go finish assembling the salad you had been asked to bring when a large, warm hand landed on your shoulder.

“Heya, kid.” He said in his remarkably deeper voice, still marred by his method-acting submersion into Elvis.

Fuck, you hated when he called you that. You were only four years younger than him, but when you had met that age difference had made you only fourteen. Still in middle school. To him you had been a kid and apparently always would be. You plastered a smile on your face and turned to look up at him.

“Hey Austin.” You somehow managed to speak, despite the rich blue of his eyes searing into every muscle of your body.

He pulled you into a respectful hug, not pulling you too tight, but you could definitely tell he had only gotten stronger since you had last seen him.

“Good to see you.” He nodded as he stepped back, and you nodded dumbly in reply before your mother was once again hugging him and pulling him towards the living room.

Thirteen years. Thirteen years had passed since your older sister had taken a job as a personal assistant/guardian in the flourishing Vancouver entertainment industry. Thirteen years since a young kid from southern California had come up to film Life Unexpected. And while the role had only lasted one season, their working partnership was still solidly in place thirteen years later. Wherever Austin had gone, so had your sister. At first, his career had been slow to take off and she had taken other jobs as well, but now. Now he was a full-fledged A-list movie start and she was his manager.

He had been such a sweet, lost little boy in 2009 that your parents had immediately adopted him as a member of the family. He had been around almost every day that summer and into the fall before the show wrapped. Swimming in the pool, soaking in the hot tub, eating your parents’ cooking, sleeping over in the carriage house. And even though he had not set foot back into their house since then, because he and your sister were together so often, he was the recipient of a yearly Christmas card and family letter (which your father affectionately called the brag rag). It was also why there were pictures of him scattered throughout the house, and he had been forcefully kept up to date on your graduation from high school and university, your first job, your own apartment.

You laughed as you reminisced about your teenaged self as you started slicing the cucumbers. How you had worn all your best clothes and borrowed a bathing suit of questionable coverage from your friend, trying to place yourself in his eyeline. And the whole time he had seen you as just a kid. As well as completely desperate, surely. Adding the last of the ingredients to your salad, you carried it to the dining table, impressed by the lengths your mother had gone with the table setting. There was also a huge roast in the oven with all the sides.

It was solidly in the no-man’s land between Canadian and American Thanksgiving; there was nothing special about today other than that fact that Austin was visiting for the first time in thirteen years. You leaned against the doorway of the dining room, watching him regale you parents with a story about the latest incredible celebrity encounter he had, you sister adding colour commentary.

When you met him, he had had a baby-face with Bieber bangs and well now…it looked as though some divine hand had honed his cheekbones and jawline until the were sharp and defined. The loss of the bangs was something to be celebrated, and his voice had dropped maybe half an octave...But those eyes had not changed one bit. There was a bone-weary look about them, but they were still a sharp, shining azure.

You would like to think that you had also grown up over the last thirteen years. That he could maybe, possibly finally see you as a woman. Because, yes, you had absolutely been thinking about his impending time in the city and what it might all mean. He had very neatly stuck a pin into that filmy, thin bubble of hope, bursting it ruthlessly, when he called you kid.

You father cleared his throat, startling you out of your thoughts and you swallowed sheepishly.

“Just wanted to know if Mom wanted to serve those cocktails now?” You quickly asked, glad you had arrived early and had a rundown of her menu plans. When she replied in the affirmative, you headed back into the kitchen to start mixing the cocktails per the recipe she had left out.

Filling the glasses, you carefully carried the tray into the living room, holding it out for Austin to grab a glass first before offering it to the rest of the family. Taking the last glass on the tray, you sat on the loveseat next to your sister, tucking the tray between the wall and the furniture.

“Cheers! Welcome back to your Canadian home, Austin.” Your father lifted his glass in a toast, and you all leaned in to clink your glasses together.

Settling back in your seat, you took a deep sip, pleased with how the cocktail had turned out.

“You make a good drink, kid.” Austin grinned and you bit your lip as heat flooded your cheeks and annoyance pricked your mind. A conflict of emotions in response to a comment that both praised and infantilized you.

“Thank you. So are you starting filming right away or…” You tried to steer to conversation away from your ability to make and drink alcoholic beverages as your grip on the glass was becoming precariously tight.

“Couple of days of pre-production, then yes. Friday, we start.” He nodded.

“You two will be working together!” Your mom suddenly gushed, and you looked down at your lap as there was something truly mortifying about the way she talked you up to other people.

“Did you follow in your big sister’s footsteps, kid?” Austin asked, surprise evident in his tone.

Your free hand bunched into a fist on your thigh as you raised your head again to answer properly.

“Oh, no. Just working a few days as an extra later in the month.” You took a fortifying sip of your drink. “Started doing it back in university for some sporadic income. Now it’s a bit of a hobby.” You shrugged a little as you fought against the tightness in your chest, born of the intensity of his focus on you, to fill your lungs sufficiently.

“Looking forward to it, then. Suppose you don’t know your scenes yet?” He tilted his head, matching you sip for sip.

You shook your head.

“I usually find out on the day I arrive, honestly. Should be a fun one, with mobsters and all.” You nodded and he replied with a smirk.

The timer went off, interrupting cocktail hour and your mother went to pull the roast out the oven. She called you in to help get the rest of the sides prepped and served, leaving your father and sister to entertain Austin. This was how it always went; you were after all the youngest and the only child who stayed in the city. Tonight, you were grateful for the chance to escape that intense gaze before you snapped at him and petulantly insisted you were an adult now. How embarrassing, and contradictory, that would be.

Not twenty minutes later, dinner was served. You sat beside your sister, Austin across from the pair of you, your parents at the head and foot of the heavily laden table.

“So, when are the rest of the people coming?” Your sister quipped and you all laughed brightly at your mother’s exasperation.

“Well now you don’t have to pack lunches.” She said pointedly to your sister and started to serve.

You pressed your lips together to hide your smirk and passed the potatoes along after taking a scoop. Once every plate was brimming with food, you all dug in happily.

“Delicious, as always.” Austin grinned at your mother, and she preened under his praise.

“So, are you guys all packed?” Your sister asked.

“Well, we’ve almost packed everything we own so I’d hope so?” Your father replied and once again everyone laughed at your mother’s expense.

“Four weeks in the Bahamas sounds like bliss.” Austin sighed, envy colouring his words.

“It’s going to be incredible, and we’ll be back in time for the holidays, too. Just sorry we’ll miss the most of your visit.” You mother patted his hand fondly.

You were impressed at her ability to remain upright under the brilliant smile he shone upon her and focused on taking a bite of all the different flavours on your plate. Eventually you had to lean back in defeat, your eyes bigger than your stomach. You shook your head with a sigh.

“That was delicious, mom. I just can’t…”

“And there’s still dessert!” Your father reminded you and everyone groaned remorsefully.

“A break, then. Let’s take a break in the living room.” She beamed proudly, loving to feed people.

You stood to begin collecting dishes, carrying them to the kitchen to pack up the leftovers.

“No no no, I’ll help her, you go sit.” You could hear Austin admonishing your mother gently and looked up as he arrived with an armful of plates.

“You can go sit, too. I’ve got this.” You murmured, feeling a bit guilty about how tired he looked.

“Gotta do something to earn my keep, kid.” He directed a playful smirk in your direction, his cherry pink lips curling up at the corner, before heading back to the dining room to grab some more dishes.

He made it halfway back to you before you realized you were still rooted to the spot before you lurched into action, filling tupperware and scraping plates and loading the dishwasher. Between the two of you, everything was cleared up and put away in short order and you rejoined the rest of the group in the living room.

In a room full of big personalities, you were happy to sit back and enjoy the flow of conversation around you. Work had been a bit hectic of late, with the end of the year quickly approaching, and you were admittedly tired. The ‘kid’ shaped bullets fired from Austin’s plush lips had done nothing to help either, draining you of all hope you had secreted away in the darkest corner of your heart. It was good to see him, undoubtedly, but also a bit of a let down.

Your mother stood to serve desert and you followed, carrying plates out to everyone where they remained in the living room. After you were all well and truly stuffed, you looked to your sister.

“Do you guys need a ride? I’ve got my car here.”

“Sure!” She replied with a nod. “I think the hotel is really close to your apartment?”

You nodded as the three of you stood slowly.

“10-minute walk, it’s really not out of the way at all.” You smiled and leaned in to hug your parents. “Safe trip guys, I’ll be checking the mail as requested.”

There were more hugs and farewells before you headed outside to your modest car, your sister insisting Austin take the front seat. You felt his eyes on you, watching you drive as though it was the most revelatory experience of his entire life. It did nothing for your nerves. Thankfully, he fell asleep before he managed to call you ‘kid’ again. You smirked as you met your sister’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Happens all the time.” She murmured and you shook your head.

Poor man must be exhausted…you almost felt guilty as you pulled up to the Parq Vancouver complex, where they would be staying and filming. You reached out to touch his shoulder gently.

“Austin?” You spoke softly and flinched as his had snapped out like a viper to grab your wrist, inhaling sharply, looking around defensively before he saw your face.

“Sorry ‘bout that” He mumbled; lips clumsy with the residue of sleep.

“It’s fine, it’s ok” You spoke quickly before he could tack ‘kid’ onto the statement.

It was difficult to ignore the way his firm grip felt on your wrist. The way the skin of his lightly calloused fingertips burned into yours. The strength in his hand. Somehow, you managed to hold out until he returned your hand, barely breathing, but still alive.

“Well…guess we’ll see you in a few weeks.” He smiled warmly, scrubbing the sleep from his face to step out of the car into a haze of flashing paparazzi cameras.

“Night sis.” Your sister patted your shoulder from the backseat, and you waved back at her as she followed him inside.

The next few weeks passed quietly. Your parents made it to the Bahamas without issue and were happily torturing you with gorgeous photos as you made the daily trip to check their mail. Truly you had not used your car this often since you bought it, everything usually within walking distance from your apartment. Two days before you were due on set, you received an email requesting that you shave you legs to meet wardrobe requirements. That was definitely a new one, but it was actually not the weirdest request that had been made of you as an extra.

You arrived on set at 6 AM, choosing to walk over as it, frankly, was the same amount of time by car and walking was free. Your eyes widened as you were informed that you would be one of a heap of women on a mob boss’s hotel bed, dressing in not very much at all. You briefly wondered who exactly was portraying this mob boss, but you were quickly whisked out to the production trailers parked alongside the building on Pacific Boulevard. They put you in a robe to go through hair and makeup, apply lotions and glitter to your skin to make you appear dewy and luscious. A few of the other women sharing the scene were in the trailer with you and it was thankfully easy to bond with them.

Wardrobe had you try on a few different lingerie combinations before you ended up in a black, lace-trimmed negligee with structured undergarments beneath to give you a perfect cinematic shape. Sliding the robe back on, you headed into the back entrance of the hotel with your new friends, riding the elevator up to the penthouse. The assistant director greeted you and showed you around the set, making sure you all felt comfortable before they blocked out the scene with the actor’s body double, allowing lighting and photography to get everything set. You could easily tell the man was not a stand-in for Austin.

To your understanding, there would be a romp with the mob boss, interrupted by a young, brash lieutenant. It ultimately involved a bomb being planted by said lieutenant and carnage would result. You were actually quite excited to play dead, you had never done that before, but that was still a few days off. Today was the romping.

Draped across the bed, you could not help but notice the body double of the young lieutenant looked remarkably similar to Austin’s proportions. A fact which was confirmed when the man himself sauntered in, wearing some perfectly tailor trousers, a button-up shirt, and a vest. He was in the midst of taking a deep sip from a bottle of water. A bottle of water which slipped from his fingers when his eyes landed on you, with four other women, barely dressed on the bed. Oops.

Your sister bustled in behind him to clean up and he looked down at her startled.

“Have you seen what they’ve done with your sister?” He gasped.

The assistant director started talking through the next part of the scene and you did your best to focus but could not ignore your sister’s attempts to calm him down and guide him out of the room. Not long after, Connor Richie, the tall, broad, muscular, dark-haired actor playing the aforementioned mob boss arrived in a silk robe. You found it difficult to breathe as it sunk just what you would get to do with that gorgeous man…with his long, wavy locks begging to be tugged.

He shook each of your hands warmly and you smiled up at him through your lashes, not trying to be flirtatious. It was a side-effect of the position you were in. And well, maybe a little flirtatious. You felt your skin warm with the grin he offered before he turned to the now-present director with an idea to do coke off one of the women’s bodies. The director loved it and asked for volunteers.

There was hesitation from the others, and well, you felt a bit bold, so you nodded.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

The grin Connor rewarded you with made you swallow roughly and almost bite you lip…thankfully you remembered you were wearing make-up and managed to stop yourself. Someone from props procured inositol vitamin powder, a painless prop for cocaine, and a hundred-dollar bill. It was decided he would snort it off your outer thigh as you lay on your side facing him. The five of you ran through the mechanics of the scene a few times before everyone felt ready and comfortable. Hair and makeup did some final touch ups before the camera finally started rolling. You found it remarkably easy to giggle and pet at Connor, licking your lips as they did some wide and mid shots before doing the closeup on your thigh. You were very thankful for all the attention makeup had paid to your skin.

He was kind, friendly, and more than a little flirtatious between takes and resets. It felt undeniably good to be seen as an attractive woman, so you did nothing to discourage his behaviour. You were so immersed in the entire experience that it honestly startled you when they called a break for lunch. You found yourself rather stiff as you slid off the bed and indulged your body’s need to stretch for a few moments. You did not miss the way Connor’s eyes watched your movements from the bed as he chatted with his personal assistant.

Sliding on your robe, you hurried down to one of the ballrooms where the lunch service was set-up for the production. You were about to carry your tray to sit with your scene mates, but your sister grabbed your arm and led you to a quiet corner.

“So! Fun role this time” She teased with a grin, and you looked down, suddenly embarrassed to have your sister call you out on it.

“I mean…I guess? You’ll get to see a very close-up shot of my thigh if you go see it…”

She snorted as you sat down at an empty table in the back.

“Well, Austin was shocked, let’s just say that.” She smirked and took a bite of her lunch.

You shook your head with a deep sigh.

“That’s because, to Austin, I’m still fourteen years old…” You stabbed the food on your plate a little too aggressively.

“Maybe so…I calmed him down, reminded him there was no way you could have given us a heads up because they take your phone when you’re on set.” She took another bite. “But Mr. Richie…well…” She grinned and you laughed shyly, shaking your head.

“He’s very nice and professional.” You murmured unconvincingly, pushing your next bite around on the plate before piercing it with your fork.

“And the looks definitely don’t hurt, hmmm…?” She waggled her eyebrows and you both cracked up.

“Man, it’s good to see you sis…” You slid an arm around her in a half hug and the two of you spent the rest of the lunch break catching up.

After lunch, because Austin was still wrapping up a scene elsewhere, you filmed some more footage of the bed pile until he was finally available mid-afternoon.

The shot where Austin burst in called for you to pull Connor’s face towards your crotch and you did not miss the way that the muscles of Austin’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. Thankfully, his character was supposed to look annoyed, but his grip on the bag of money (with a secret bomb planted inside), had his knuckles turning white.

As Connor’s character sat up to argue with Austin’s, you pressed up against his back as directed, sliding your arm around his torso and nibbling at his earlobe. One of the other women was attacking the other side of his neck as the last two were working at his robe. It all resulted in a writhing mess of flesh as the backdrop for an intense argument between the mob’s past and its future. You made the mistake of meeting Austin’s eyes during one take, teeth sinking in a little deeper into Connor’s earlobe at the burning malice that had his azure eyes blazing with intensity.

Connor hissed and gripped your thigh warningly.

“Easy there, vixen….” He growled and continued the scene.

The director loved it, thankfully. After they cut to shoot coverage from another angle, you pulled back and quickly apologized to him. He tossed his head back, laughing richly, hand patting your thigh where it still rested.

“Just fine, minx. It worked well. Do it every time.” He smirked back at you, and you grinned a little, looking up at him playfully through your lashes. Flirting without a single camera rolling.

There was a bang from the hall, making everyone jump. You saw your sister going running by, following in the direction that Austin had stormed off to. It was your turn to grit your teeth. Who the fuck did he think he was?! Your keeper?!

After an awfully long afternoon, the director called it a day before anyone went into overtime. There was still a lot of the fight to shoot, and the lead up to the explosion. Tomorrow would be just as long and gruelling. But when Connor kissed your cheek before sliding from the bed…you grinned to yourself a little. It might not be all bad. Despite the glowering, lanky blonde man in the corner.

The next morning, once you were finished with hair and make-up, you made your way up to the penthouse with your scene-mates again. But this time, Austin was waiting when the elevator doors opened, arms crossed.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” His tone negated the rise at the end of the statement that was supposed to make it a question. Made it a command.

“Uh, sure?” You looked to the assistant director, who was also waiting for the four of you, and they nodded.

“You can have five minutes, then we need you.” They led the other girls into the bedroom as Austin took you into one of the other rooms in the suite.

It was being used for storage, you guessed, based on the fact that it was full of camera and lighting equipment.

“So…what’s up?” You tilted your head, trying not to jump to conclusions. Despite the fact that you could feel in your bones that a lecture was coming.

“Look, kid, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Any of it. But we’ve already got a whole day of you dressed like…” His hand gestured up and down the length of you, even though you were still wearing your robe. Your fists clenched at your sides. “But Connor Richie?” He raised his eyebrows sceptically, the name obviously leaving a bad taste in his mouth as it came out through a pinched expression. “He’s not a good man, especially not for someone like you.”

Your own eyebrows rocketed upwards and all the bitterness you had been swallowing back as you tried to endure his inability to see you for who you were now…it crashed against the feeble dam you had built and burst forth.

“Someone like me, Austin?!” You snapped and he looked startled as though you had slapped him. “A twenty-seven-year-old, sexually active woman who willing consented to this part?! It’s been thirteen fucking years. I am NOT A CHILD ANYMORE. I do not have to take this shit from you just because you knew me for a few months ages ago. And for fuck’s sake, stop calling me kid!”

Not even waiting for a reply, not even wanting to hear one, you turned and quickly made your way to the set. As you walked you took deep breaths and physically tried to shake the anger off of you, but the crew was eerily quiet…perhaps you should not have screamed parts of that. But the audacity of that man!

“You good?” The assistant director asked, and you nodded firmly, finding a smile, and got to work.

Connor arrived not long after and you two picked up right where you left off, chatting and giggling between shots. Austin arrived just before he was needed, still visibly shellshocked and looking at anything but you. There was a twinge of guilt now, but Connor pulled your attention back to him with another question about you. He was so interested, and paying attention, and making you feel wanted. It was in such stark contrast to everything you had been feeling from Austin.

By the time lunch rolled around, Austin was no longer needed for the rest of the scene, and he took his foul mood elsewhere. Leaving you with Connor who, without you really realizing it, was slowly wrapping you around his finger. By the end of that day, he had you straddling his thigh, feeding him fruit from a tray. So, when he asked you to come back to his room…well you were worked up enough to agree. Worked up enough to be reckless and put your own pleasure first, even before common sense.

The looks on the faces of the other women as you left with his arm around you caused the first flicker of shame, but he squeezed your hip and winked down at you and you pushed it aside. The looks of the crew in the elevator with you added a little more fuel to the fire and you shifted away slightly, but he easily pulled you back against his side. As you waited for him to swipe his key card at his door, the look on Austin’s face as he stepped out of the elevator onto the floor had a scorching blaze of shame roaring through you. Connor simply pulled you into the room, and you were so startled you did not even have time to school your face in front of the blonde man striding rapidly down the hall towards you. Let your sudden fear and regret and shame show nakedly on your features.

Once inside the room, Connor finally let you go as he headed to the bar to fix some drinks.

“Uh, Connor, I just realized I should really return this wardrobe, so no one gets in trouble.” You started inching back toward the door, but he seized your wrist with his long reach in a somewhat uncomfortable grip that had your heart beating double-time as it slammed against your ribs.

“Oh, they’ll be fine. You’ll get it back to them tomorrow.” He grinned salaciously and you felt your skin suddenly begin to crawl at the meaning behinds those words. Every fibre of your being was filled with revulsion. It was the ‘no feeling’ from sex-ed class made real and it was filling you with waves of nausea.

“You know, I’m not feeling well I should really…” You feebly tugged your arm trying to break his grip on your wrist. All you succeeded in doing was making him clench his grasp tighter, make your bones creak and your skin burn. “Ow!” You blurted without thinking and he was suddenly right in your face, looming above you. That height and strength that were initially attractive were now sinister and imposing.

“Look here you little cock-tease, you agreed to come up here after riling me up for two days straight. You don’t get to fucking back out now.” He growled, smirking as your eyes widened in terror.

“Connor please, I have to go…” You yelped as he slammed you into the wall, making your throat close in fear.

“Oh no you don’t, not until I’ve had what a want.” He snarled and leaned in to shove his tongue into your mouth, making tears prick the corner of your eyes as you futilely tried to squirm away.

The sound of a fist pounding on the door made you jump in your heightened fight-or-flight state. Connor pulled back to shout angrily,

“NOT NOW!”

It made you cower against the wall, gripping your robe shut with your free hand as though that might stop him when he turned back to you. There were more door-rattling bangs followed by a rage-filled voice you barely recognized.

“OPEN THE DOOR, CONNOR.” Austin. It was Austin on the other side of that door. “Don’t make me make a fucking scene out here.” He growled a little lower and you swallowed roughly as more tears flooded your eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, California boy.” Connor snarled and released you to wrench the door open. “What the fuck?” He looked down at him intimidatingly.

Austin did not even look at him, leaning down to peer into the room, looking for you. He spotted you not far away and spoke your name gently.

“You want to leave?” He asked calmly and you nodded quickly. “Can you say it for me?” He repeated, and you were too distraught to realize that he was forcing you to verbally withdraw consent.

“I want to leave.” You said, voice shaking, but words clear.

Austin finally looked to Connor pointedly and the man stepped back from the door with a dramatic sigh, leaving a gap large enough for you to dash from the room into the safety of the brightly lit hall.

“Little cock-tease is all yours, bro.” Connor snorted derisively and slammed to door sharply, making you jump yet again.

Austin stood glaring at the door for a few moments before he turned to you, features softened.

“Let’s get your clothes.” He said gently and, once you nodded pathetically, led you back to the elevators.

Thankfully, the others were gone, and you quickly returned your wardrobe, dressing in your own clothing. Austin was waiting for you outside the wardrobe trailer, hoodie up, hat and sunglasses on. He smiled softly.

“Let’s get you home.” And you were happy to follow because he felt safe and kind, despite how utterly rude you had been to him that morning.

He took you around to the taxi stand and you settled into the backseat, hugging your knees to your chest. It was not at all comfortable in the cramped space but…how could you have been so fucking stupid? To go back to some random celebrity’s room just because… just because you were so angry at Austin. Because you were seeking validation of your womanhood in all the wrong places.

You could see Austin watching intently from his side of the backseat as uncontrollable tears were rolling down your cheeks and splotching onto the knees your jeans. The ride was only ten minutes and Austin paid easily before sliding out, coming around to offer his hand. You hesitated a moment before reaching out to take it, watching his eyes immediately drop to your swelling wrist. You sniffed and took his hand, pulling him into the building before the paparazzi caught up.

You led him up to your apartment, dropping your keys on the entryway table and smiling softly as your cat came trotting to the door to greet you eagerly. You scooped her up into a hug and turned to let her sniff at Austin curiously as he closed the door behind him. He scratched her head gently before you set her down and kicked off your shoes, moving to sit on the couch in stunned silence.

“Do you have some ice?” He asked as he found your fridge, looking into the freezer. He joined you in the living room with a zipper bag of ice, wrapping it in a tea towel as he sat down before holding his hand out to you.

You swallowed and set your hand in his again, sucking a breath through your teeth as he set the makeshift icepack on your throbbing wrist.

“Thanks.” You murmured and looked to his face quickly. “Thank you for…” Your voice broke before you could finish your thought and you broke into soft, shuddering sobs.

He pulled you close, setting your head on his shoulder, cradling your injured hand between the two of you thoughtfully. His free hand traced soothing circles against your shoulder blades. He was silent, even though he had every right to crow ‘I told you so!’ and chide you for being the stupid child you had protested that you were not. Eventually your sobs subsided, and you were able to take a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry…” You whispered tearfully against him, and you felt him tense.

“What on earth are you apologizing for?” He asked incredulously.

You pulled back to look up at him guiltily.

“Screaming at you…” You clarified before looking down at your hand cupped in his.

He sighed softly and you felt, rather than saw, him shake his head.

“I should be the one apologizing…I had no idea how offensive it was, just a nickname I never stopped using. I’m sorry. You are definitely a grown woman now and I did not mean to make you feel otherwise. I was unfair.” He smiled gently as you risked a glance up at him.

“Oh, I dunno, the rest of my behaviour today was pretty fucking immature…” You muttered self-deprecatingly and his fingers twitched against yours.

“Doesn’t mean you did not have to right to withdraw your consent…You always have that…” He replied firmly and you could see the muscles of his jaw working through the memory of Connor’s behaviour.

You were struck by how very grown-up Austin was. He always had been older than you, but it was truly refreshing to hear a man speak openly about consent. Your lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, and you leaned forward to hug him with your free arm.

“Thank you…” You repeated yet again and he squeezed you back a little. “I’m thinking pizza for dinner tonight…d…w…would you stay? Let me pay?” You bit your lip as you pulled back and looked up at him.

He nodded softly and pulled the ice from your wrist.

“Need to take breaks with this.” He said and went to put it back in the freezer as you pulled up your favourite pizza place. Once he returned, he leaned in and made his food choices with you before you looked to him.

“I need to shower all this stuff off my body, are you ok if I leave you alone with the cat?” You chuckled softly as the aforementioned feline jumped onto his lap and rolled onto her back. “It’s not a trap, she really likes tummy scritches.” You demonstrated before he nodded for you to go ahead.

You returned freshly scrubbed, damp hair air drying because it would just be styled again tomorrow. Austin was watching something random on TV with a purring cat in his lap and the scene made you smile softly. Your phone vibrated with the call from the intercom downstairs, and you buzzed the driver up, fetching the pizza boxes from the door and bringing them to the living room.

You asked him to choose a movie and he settled on Cool Hand Luke for its complete absence of romance. Once the pizza was eaten, you took the empty boxes to the kitchen and reapplied the ice pack. In your brief absence, Austin had laid down to rest his head on the arm rest and was now sleeping soundly. You smiled softly at how peaceful and innocent he seemed, his face completely relaxed in slumber, his long legs folded up to fit within in confines of the couch.

Loathe to wake him, you turned off the television and gently draped a blanket over his form, smirking as your cat settled against his abdomen, purring happily. Feeling more than a little ragged yourself, you crawled into your bed, falling into a restless sleep full of repetitive dreams about what tomorrow’s final day on set might bring.

Read Part Two

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